#❝shining beacon!❞ | original posts

[justanisabelakinnie]

I was pretty bored yesterday and in a bitter mood and so I ended up spam-reblogging a shitload of anti-Madoka Magica posts(and no I’m not sorry, because no matter fucking what I will never stop hating on that trashfest of an anime), and obviously there’s nothing much really that I can say about it that hasn’t already been said by both me and other people in the past but lemme just say how FUCKED up it is…that grown men can look at a genre full of light and hope and female solidarity and empowerment for girls that teaches them that they can be whatever they want to be and that they should never stop believing in themselves and striving for greatness and go “nope, fuck that, instead of all of that happy fun girl power shit let’s write an edgy grimdark dystopia where being a girl with dreams and a desire to strive for greatness is a bad thing that can only end in suffering and punishment, where the survival of the universe and progress of humanity literally hinges on girls being tortured and killed en masse for wishing for something that would make them happy, where girls are universally portrayed as overemotional and impressionable and susceptible and weak and must slay each other in order to survive because they’ll go berserk and monstrous once their power inevitably gets the better of them, and where the only way to escape this ending is by dying and being erased from existence, because that’s the best girls can hope for, and as the icing on the sour cake, let’s aim it at an adult male audience so that they can watch girls suffer and perish and be psychologically broken for their own entertainment, all because they wanted something for themselves and had the gall and the selfishness to go after it.”

And instead of people seeing it for the sexist torture porn that it is it gets glowing reviews on every platform, people eat this shit up and say that this sleazy adult male-aimed show about barely adolescent girls suffering because they wanted something more for themselves is feminist actually, that actually all of the turmoil that the girls go through is a totally girl power metaphor for how girls suffer at the hands of patriarchy in the real world, and how the torture porn got subverted at the end when really all the end did was show the girls continuing to suffer because of their wishes but hey at least they’ll get the sweet release of death in the end, and how the all-male writing staff definitely meant for this to be the next feminist coming of Jesus despite the fact that they say they weren’t inspired by any Magical Girl works that came before them and were instead inspired by porn games…Madoka is the most progressive and revolutionary anime ever really, even more so than those insightful shows about Magical Girls that are actually aimed at girls and actually feature female empowerment and angst done well and not just for the sole purpose of letting men watch female characters suffer, those other shows are just stupid and shallow and bland and don’t know what they’re talking about, Madoka is where it’s at. Take it from me, a 35-year-old man who has never seen a single Magical Girl anime in my life except for Madoka Magica. If you don’t agree with me or if you dare to critique my soulless male gaze moebait, then you’re obviously just dumb and ignorant and don’t understand the deep philosophical nuances of this shoddy anime, I mean just look at Madoka’s mom! She’s the breadwinner of her family! Sure she’s not important to the plot on a whole and it’s not like Heartcatch Precure has done this character archetype better or anything but she’s proof that the writers are feminist icons who set out to empower women! Now watch as me and the rest of my Madoka-loving friends proceed to bully and harass the shit out of you for not sharing our vapid opinions until you either delete your account, change your tune and say you like Madoka now and were so wrong and stupid before, or stop talking about how much you hate Madoka entirely. And anyway teenage girls really ARE irrational, hysterical, and constantly on their cycles. Of course they’ll get taken advantage of for it! That’s not misogynistic to point out, that’s just the biotruth!

[ghostboneswrites2]

I really resonated with Daryl x abused reader could you maybe do one where the reader doesn’t let their past define them and shows little signs of abuse like they’re super cheery and happy and doesn’t let their past get them down and but maybe reader has a ptsd attack by Daryl after he confronts her about being so happy especially in an apocalypse and they just realize they relate to each other even if they’re personalities are so drastically and Daryl just comforts reader 🫂

The Painted Bunting

Era: Greene Farm

Summary: Daryl is paired with you on the search for Sophia and snaps at you after growing tiresome of your seemingly endless kindness.

Note: No more laptop for now since the cord broke so I hope you’ll all forgive the lack of my usual post formatting :(

Warnings: profanity, mentions of past abuse, grumpy sassy asshole Daryl (the man we originally fell in love with)

Banner credits on this post

        Shining hair in the rays of the sun, an infectious laugh, a beaming grin that never seemed to dissipate. A glowing beacon in the dark. That was what you were. And, admittedly, it got under his skin a little, so Daryl tended to avoid you. You weren’t oblivious to it, but you accepted it for what it was. After all, you couldn’t win them all, right? 

        You had always been that way; soft, gentle, graceful, kind. If you had never let the past change that for you, you certainly wouldn’t let present day events change it, either. Maybe the world had become a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. 

        Daryl thought that what really gritted his teeth about you was that through everything that had happened, you never changed a single bit. Not like the others had; not like he had. 

        After the world fell, after the camp by the quarry was overrun, after the CDC, after Sophia had gone missing, you remained exactly the same. For all of the afore mentioned, Daryl found you to be one of the most vexing people he ever had the displeasure of interacting with, second only to Shane, who could have easily been traded off for his own brother, Merle.

        Needless to say, he was peeved at the idea that you were sent on search duty with him after he hurt himself in the ravine. Rick decided a buddy system would be beneficial to all of the search party participants, and you volunteered to tag along, because of course you did.

        You weren’t so much looking forward to spending so much one on one time with the man, yourself. You didn’t necessarily have an issue with him, but you were all too aware of the issue he seemed to have with you. Really, you couldn’t relate to him at all. Not everyone around camp was perky and sweet, and rightfully so, but Daryl was such a brooding presence and you just couldn’t put yourself in that frame of mind.

        The two of you had set out just after dawn and the hours ticked by as you made friendly conversation and Daryl occasionally offered you a measly grunt in response. 

        “Do you think we’ll find anyone out here?” You asked. “I mean, aside from Sophia. I know we’ll find her.”

        “Pro’ly better if we don’t find nobody else.” Was his first verbal response all day. You shrugged. 

        “I don’t know. Could be good. I’m sure there are people who could really use some help.”

        “Ain’t our problem.” He argued. “Gotta look out for our own. The hell you worried about helpin’ strangers for when we ain’t even found the little girl we’re after?” 

        “Oh, no.” You chuckled nervously. “It’s not that I was just —“ You cut yourself off, sensing an oncoming ramble. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

        “Mm.” He hummed, pausing his footsteps to take a breath and scan his surroundings. After a moment, he continued forward, and you followed without question . Admittedly, you had no clue how to track, so if anything you were there in case he got hurt.

        “So, if someone needed your help… You wouldn’t help?” You asked innocently.

        He whipped around to face you, the aggression behind his motion drawing you to a dead stop.

        “The hell’s your problem, huh?” He snapped. You blinked. “It’s the end of the goddamn world and you’re askin’ me about some hypothetical moral dilemma? Let me tell you somethin’, girl; ain’t no damn morals in the apocalypse. Ain’t no more law and order! It’s just us,” he paused, sending an arrow through the skull of a walker that had crept up behind you. You flinched and turned to watch its carcass thud on the forest floor. “And them.” He concluded. 

        “I—I was just making conversation.” You mumbled timidly. 

        “Why? It’s not a social call! We’re out here to find that little girl. This is why I didn’t need no damn babysitter.” He complained.

        “I was just trying to be nice.” You defended.

        “Nice?” He scoffed. That simple word seemed to trigger something in him as his eyes lit up with aggravation. “Don’t you get it? It ain’t about bein’ nice anymore. It’s about survival. Got dead people standin’ up and eatin’ people and you’re worried about bein’ nice. Walkin’ around passin’ out water and food and gigglin’ with everybody like we ain’t got a bunch o’ dead bodies stumblin’ around us just waitin’ to take a bite out.” 

        Maybe it was the way he raised his voice, or the way his eyes shot flaming daggers of fury right through your chest, or the way he threw his arms down and spat words at you like you were some puny, wretched little thing. You didn’t know what it was, but somewhere in the whirlwind of heated exchange, his voice slowly blended together with the other voice — the one that still lived in the back of your mind and ate away at you every day.

        The voice that belonged to your own father, the one person who struck true, genuine fear in you. Before you knew it, that old sensation of real terror, the one you’d buried somewhere deep inside you and covered with cement, was breaking free and engulfing you. 

        You were frozen, like a fawn under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The humid air felt like a thick paste as you struggled to gulp it down and catch a breath. At first, Daryl felt inclined to criticize your tears as a show of weakness, fragility, inability to handle a little raise of the voice. He quickly noticed, however, that this was no simple burst of reactionary emotions. No, this was something much deeper and it was rattling you to the core. There was a distant look in your wide eyes, one that he came to recognize, even if it took him a minute. 

       He shifted on his feet, scanning you, unsure how to intervene. 

        “Hey.” He eventually called out, but it was clear his voice wasn’t reaching you. This was the final piece of confirmation he needed. You were having an episode, the kind he experienced a few times when he first got out of his father’s abusive home. 

        He sighed and grabbed your trembling shoulders. You jumped but you didn’t flee or strike out. His touch seemed to dry you out and shrivel you up like a raisin. You shrank into yourself, hyperventilating. 

        “C’mon.” He said softly, ushering you done to your knees. “Hey. Ya gotta breathe.” 

        Your breathe only became more shallow and forced. Tears poured down your cheeks as your chest got tighter. 

        “Just breathe. That’s the only way it’s gonna stop.” He urged. He went to grab your wrists but you panicked, snatching your arms away and falling down on your back. 

        “No! Get away! You can’t do this anymore! I’m not a little kid!” You cried out.

        You were making quite a bit of noise by this point, between the gasps for air and the sobs. He crouched over you and grabbed your shoulders. 

        “(Y/N), ya ain’t there anymore. Wherever it is, it’s gone. In the past. It’s just you and me right now, and we ain’t there. We’re here.” He soothed, hoping his voice could find you somewhere in the abyss. “Just listen. Ya hear that? It’s a Painted Bunting. Look,” he pointed up into a tree at a bright multicolored bird, similar in its beauty to a parrot, only much smaller. “It’s right up there. Ya see it?” 

        Your breathing had started to slow down now, those shallow inhales finally reaching a little deeper within. Your eyes lazily followed his finger to the bright little bird singing a flute-like melody. 

        “Ya see it?” He asked again. You managed to nod once, still holding your arms tightly to your chest as you laid flat on the bed of leaves and twigs. He took a moment to see you, to really take you in, and he realized you were beautiful. Not just in the way a pretty girl with a nice personality was beautiful, but in a way that left so much of who you really were unsaid.

        “Just watch it.” He whispered, glancing back up at the feathered creature, hoping it would stick around long enough to bring you back down to earth. “They take two years to look that pretty. Did ya know that?” He asked, glancing back down at you. Your eyes were still on the bird, but you shook your head no. “Yeah. Only the males, too.” He added. “Otherwise, they’re just kinda greenish and yellowish.” 

        Once your chest was rising and falling with a steady rhythm, you finally looked over at him. Humiliation began to set in. You quickly sat yourself up and brushed the dead foliage away from your clothes and hair. 

        “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.” 

        “‘S okay.” He shrugged, standing himself back up as well. “Happens.”

        “Yeah, we’ll, it shouldn’t. Not nowadays.” 

        “Can’t help it when it does.” He assured you. “I get it.”

        “Maybe I should head back.” You suggested.

        “We both can. If ya wanna. It’ll be dark soon anyways.”  

        “I don’t wanna make you lose your trail or.. Ya know.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

        “Nah. Ain’t no use after dark, anyways. We’d just be stumbling in circles and bumpin’ into each other.” He insisted, contrastingly soft in comparison to before your episode. 

        “Oh. Right.” You nodded. Just as you got ready to turn back toward the farm, he cleared his throat.

        “Ya wanna talk about it?”

        “About what?” You turned back to him. He shifted his weight anxiously, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Offering an ear to listen was at least ten yards outside the perimeter of his comfort zone. “About that?” You asked. “That was nothing. Just something stupid that happens sometimes. That’s all.”

        While his tone was much kinder and warmer than before, yours was cold, dull, and tired. Those episodes could take a lot out of a person, and he was no stranger to that fact. 

        “Sometimes it helps.” He said. “Talkin’ about it. Makes it a little less…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted. “Less, uh… Consuming.”

        “It never gets less consuming.” You argued.

        “It does.” He insisted. 

         “And how would you know?” You asked, impatience lacing your words.

        “I used to get ‘em too.” He admitted. “Been awhile but… I just get it. That’s all.”

        You studied him. In all the weeks you’d spent around the man, you’d never seen him so genuine, or really so open. He never seemed to look at you like another person. You were always just another load on his shoulders. 

        “My dad.” You finally spoke. He nodded.

        “Me too.” 

        “I’m sorry.” You sympathized.

        “Me too.” He agreed. 

        “We should go.” You sighed, turning away again. 

        This time you didn’t wait for him, you just started walking, until he called out behind you; “‘M sorry.” You stood still, but you didn’t look back. He knew he had your attention, though, and he knew he had to say something else. “I know I did it this time. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that.”

        “It’s okay. Maybe you were right.” 

        “Nah.” He shook his head, taking slow steps to catch up to you. “I wasn’t. It’s good. Ya didn’t let none of that shit make ya bitter. Keep it that way. Else you’ll end up a grumpy redneck.” He joked. You suppressed the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

        “Maybe the grumpy rednecks of the world got it figured out.” You said, walking again once you felt him catch up. 

        “Nah. I don’t know shit about shit.” He admitted, eliciting a small laugh from you. You shook your head.

        “I don’t think anyone does.” You reasoned.

        On the hike back to the Greene farm, you two shared some light banter, some stories of the past, some laughs and extended looks. He grew finder of you that day. The critical glares he’d send you from a distance were replaced with admiration and respectful nods. You’d often catch him looking and flash him a big smile, waving at him before you attention was drawn elsewhere. 

       You both learned that maybe the two of you were differently colored fruit, but you grew from the same tree, and you weren’t so different after all. And, that sentiment was never lost or forgotten. It carried with you for as long as you two knew each other. 

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

[playchoicesconfessions]

Sent by anonymous

‘I understand many of the critiques of Blades 2 but the fact of the matter is after 3 years of waiting, combined with the way the fandom created this bubble of perfection around the original book and placed it on this pedestal as some shining beacon of literary excellence? This book was never going to be able to meet people’s expectations, let alone exceed them.’

POST/CONFESSIONS DO NOT REFLECT THE MOD’S PERSONAL OPINIONS!

[roachliquid]

The Symbolism of Fingers: A Brief* Look at Morality in Fallout

*For given values of brief.

Fallout (the TV series) is, without a doubt, an incredibly nuanced study of morality and ethics. Platforming off the karma system from Fallout 3 and New Vegas, it does everything in its power to deconstruct the idea that there's such as a thing as a "purely good" or "purely bad" person, and especially addresses the notion that morality is clear-cut and doing the right thing is always easy.

Nowhere is this more emphasized than in its main trio: Lucy, the shining beacon of Good Karma, Maximus, whose Neutrality expresses as a struggle between his desires to do the right thing and his completely understandable urges to be petty and vindictive, and The Ghoul, who probably has a Karma score of -2000 by the time he's officially introduced.

Obviously, the system this is based on is a horrendously butchered view of karma to begin with, but that's not really what the show is concerned with. Instead, its focus is on how its characters navigate the difference between how they - and others - perceive morality, and the actual difficulty of making sound, compassionate decisions in a world of immense complexity.

One of the ways this conflict is shown, and the focus of this post, is during the time when the Ghoul has Lucy as his hostage. Having such radically different approaches to the world around them, they truly seem like the paragons of good and evil - Lucy has the best of intentions and constantly advocates kindness, while Cooper acts like an utter bastard regardless of the circumstances at hand. And to an extent this is true! Lucy, while has many flaws and doesn't always do the right thing, is genuinely a kind, caring person. And Cooper genuinely does horrific shit when he damn well knows he has other options.

But then these characters meet a nearly-feral ghoul, and suddenly the rules change.

Lucy, of course, is horrified when Cooper puts the man down. As is completely understandable - she did not understand the circumstances behind his actions. Her view of morality up to this point has been that if it looks cruel, it must be cruel - and the same is true for kindness. It's the product of her being raised in a fascist pseudo-utopia where one of the highest virtues is to be sweet and positive of all times.

(There's a post to be made about that, and how the character of Betty in particular embodies this duality, but this is about fingers.)

It's partly because of this event - as well as the constant stress and anger that builds as the Ghoul tries to break her endless optimism - that causes Lucy to finally, momentarily lose control. At first she simply tries to run, but when that effort fails and Cooper corners and catches her, she acts in pure desperation and bites off one of his index fingers.

Cooper, of course, takes this as a victory - a sign that he's begun to break through her insipid worldview and start her down the road to adopting his brand of cynical hyperpragmatism. He also - likely in part because he's a spiteful bastard - cuts off her finger and hangs onto it so he can sew it onto his own hand later.

But shortly before that point, Lucy has a misadventure of her own - in which her original finger is replaced with one that looks like it came straight from a corpse, and she learns for the first time that things aren't always what they appear. This comes in the form of an especially brutal lesson, when what she sees as an act of kindness blows up in her face and instead causes preventable deaths.

She also, crucially, learns that what she thought was a senseless act of cruelty - Cooper killing a ghoul on the verge of going feral - was actually a rare act of true compassion. That he did the only thing he could have done, both to minimize the man's suffering and prevent him from harming anyone else. She realizes, for the first time, that her view of their differences is not entirely accurate: she is not perfectly good, and he is not perfectly evil.

This discovery is marked at both ends by a gunshot - Cooper's mercy-kill, and Lucy's desperate first use of a real gun when she is forced to kill Martha to save herself. This is significant not just because the events parallel one another, but because of what happens surrounding this event - when Lucy and the Ghoul, partly literally and partly symbolically, exchange their trigger fingers.

This serves to bridge the two in multiple ways. First, it symbolizes a kind of yin-and-yang balance - each of them has a small amount of what makes the other tick. And second, it serves as a physical reminder of their recent actions; Cooper the Evil has brought real, tangible good to the world, and Lucy the Good has in turn brought tangible harm.

Either way, the message is clear: Pure good and pure evil don't really exist, in philosophies or in people. Not just because life is complicated, but because people are complicated, and no one's philosophy, however firmly they maintain it, holds up 100% of the time. Not necessarily because the worldview is flawed - though in this case, both definitely are - but also, crucially, because no one is an infallible moral actor. Our actions are driven by feelings and judgment, and no matter what standards we hold ourselves to, there will be times when one or both of those things leads us in a different direction than what we had planned.

[mysticstronomy]

ASTRONOMER'S SOLVE THE 60-YEAR MYSTERY OF QUASARS!!

Blog#292

Saturday, April 29th, 2023

Welcome back,

Scientists have unlocked one of the biggest mysteries of quasars -- the brightest, most powerful objects in the Universe -- by discovering that they are ignited by galaxies colliding.

First discovered 60 years ago, quasars can shine as brightly as a trillion stars packed into a volume the size of our Solar System. In the decades since they were first observed, it has remained a mystery what could trigger such powerful activity.

New work led by scientists at the Universities of Sheffield and Hertfordshire has now revealed that it is a consequence of galaxies crashing together.

The collisions were discovered when researchers, using deep imaging observations from the Isaac Newton Telescope in La Palma, observed the presence of distorted structures in the outer regions of the galaxies that are home to quasars.

Most galaxies have supermassive black holes at their centres. They also contain substantial amounts of gas -- but most of the time this gas is orbiting at large distances from the galaxy centres, out of reach of the black holes. Collisions between galaxies drive the gas towards the black hole at the galaxy centre; just before the gas is consumed by the black hole, it releases extraordinary amounts of energy in the form of radiation, resulting in the characteristic quasar brilliance.

The ignition of a quasar can have dramatic consequences for entire galaxies -- it can drive the rest of the gas out of the galaxy, which prevents it from forming new stars for billions of years into the future.

This is the first time that a sample of quasars of this size has been imaged with this level of sensitivity. By comparing observations of 48 quasars and their host galaxies with images of over 100 non-quasar galaxies, researchers concluded that galaxies hosting quasars are approximately three times as likely to be interacting or colliding with other galaxies.

The study has provided a significant step forward in our understanding of how these powerful objects are triggered and fuelled.

Professor Clive Tadhunter, from the University of Sheffield's Department of Physics and Astronomy, said: "Quasars are one of the most extreme phenomena in the Universe, and what we see is likely to represent the future of our own Milky Way galaxy when it collides with the Andromeda galaxy in about five billion years.

"It's exciting to observe these events and finally understand why they occur -- but thankfully Earth won't be anywhere near one of these apocalyptic episodes for quite some time."

Quasars are important to astrophysicists because, due to their brightness, they stand out at large distances and therefore act as beacons to the earliest epochs in the history of the Universe. Dr Jonny Pierce, Post-Doctoral Research Fellow at the University of Hertfordshire, explains:

"It's an area that scientists around the world are keen to learn more about -- one of the main scientific motivations for NASA's James Webb Space Telescope was to study the earliest galaxies in the Universe, and Webb is capable of detecting light from even the most distant quasars, emitted nearly 13 billion years ago. Quasars play a key role in our understanding of the history of the Universe, and possibly also the future of the Milky Way."

Originally published on www.sciencedaily.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, May 3rd, 2023)

"HOW WAS THE BIG BANG MODEL MADE??"

[iaure]

I've only seen Godwyn x tarnished posts made by Wxnheart. I know Godwyn x reader content are scarce. So what's your take on a Yandere Godwyn?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i have thought over this ask quite a bit! godwyn is one of those characters that is simply quite difficult to write for, because of how little there is of him so far...hopefully shadow of the erdtree answers some of the questions!! but with lore videos galore (thank you zullie! thank you smoughtown!! thank you vaatividya!!) i have gotten quite the grasp on him! youtube comment gave me the cliffnotes ! ꒰♡˃̶̤́ ꒳ ˂̶̤̀ ꒱

warning: this goes into spoiler territory for elden ring

♡ originally, godwyn had seen you a little more than a subject.

♡ he had much to focus on. the emotional care of malenia and miquella was left to him, the golden order was to be left to him...he could not waste his time.

♡ he was a paragon. kind, good, strong, brave...and quite so lonely.

♡ with all that time spent on other pursuits, he wasn't really allowed the pursuit of himself.

♡ there was always something to be done.

♡ but one day, there's rumour amongst the demigods of someone who's managed the capture the hearts of many.

♡ godwyn is...confused. what?? that doesn't make sense.

♡ and like I said; at first, you were just someone else. another person in Leyndell who existed.

♡ but then, slowly, things began to shift.

♡ you didn't demand of him tasks, or ask him for some great favour. you would simply greet him and move on.

♡ the same could not be said of the Lands Between. he was always demanded of something, unless you were there.

♡ you had become a beacon of rest.

♡ the nobles hated to speak of their favours around you. you were an outsider.

♡ and godwyn could not be more grateful.

♡ he found himself hanging around you more and more often. part of him felt guilty.

♡ he felt like he was using you as a shield. but when you were around, he could do absolutely insane things-like sleep. or lay in the grass. or watch the stars.

♡ he began to see the Lands Between in a different light. no more was his soul a slave to the work thrust upon him.

♡ now, he wanted to dedicate himself to the feeling of being around you.

♡ but not everything could last.

♡ he began to feel guilty. he was using you as a shield, but what did that mean for you? were people getting upset at you for constantly getting in the way of their taking advantage of him?

♡ godwyn wouldn't stand for that.

♡ he needed to take care of you like how you took care of him.

♡ he was about being fair, about being equal. but he felt so far underneath your gentle demeanour that it seemed cruel.

♡ his mind was consumed by his adoration of you. you had become his shining light. the leading glow. the golden order could not possibly compare to you.

♡ perhaps you were some sort of outer god, intent to consume his heart and wrap your teeth around his soul.

♡ but he would accept that. one last favour, to the one he favoured above all.

[echoes-lighthouse]

Cecil and Echo: The Full Story

Previously: Toga / Tate

I did a poll for how I should share my selfship stories, and ‘text post with illustrations’ won the poll, so I’m doing a full post for each of my f/os! They’re written to be as understandable as possible for people unfamiliar with the source, but I'm.... not sure how Welcome To Night Vale will be for people who haven't listened to the podcast lol

This selfship is a bit of a hard dynamic to impart because this self-insert is very much not a person but I hope I got it across!

Chapter One: Backstories 

Cecil was born in Night Vale, a timeless and unknowable town. He was born in the 80s, although which century is uncertain, and was a teenager in the early 90s. When Cecil was five, it was prophesied that he would become the Voice of Night Vale, and his father left their family soon afterwards. His mother resented the prophecy and the role it had in the disintegration of their family, while the town began to treat Cecil differently with the knowledge of his future role. When Cecil was fourteen, his mother also left: Cecil’s older sister was forced to drop out of college to work for a place for them to live. 

Far above Night Vale is a star, not part of any recognized constellation, but burning brightly enough for Night Vale residents to see it in the darkened skies of evening. 

Chapter Two: First Meeting

At sixteen, Cecil started as an intern at Night Vale’s Community Radio station. Sharply aware of his sister’s resentment at having to work for both of them, and the pressure of the prophecy as the Voice on his shoulders, Cecil’s anxiety was reaching critical levels. 

One night, sitting outside in an old ritual circle, Cecil looked up at the sky and made a wish that he wouldn’t be lonely forever. His eyes settled on one of the stars as he whispered, a secret from a boy at his limit. 

And the star fell: out of the sky, out of its original form, and into Cecil’s hands. For a moment, formless light filled his palms. Then Echo took form, and Cecil was filled with the knowledge that Echo would always be with him, and his wish was granted: he would never be lonely. 

Chapter Three: Getting Together Growing Up 

Echo is with Cecil for his last two years of high school: inseparable, always sitting on his shoulder or hiding in his pocket. Cecil survives his first year at the radio station and the two of them celebrate by running away for a night in the forest, sometimes dancing and sometimes singing and sometimes lying still, looking up at the other stars above them. 

When Cecil graduates, his sister is set free: the radio station starts to pay Cecil enough for a little Night Vale apartment, and Echo fluctuates in size to help carry the furniture and boxes, always shrinking back to their familiar size at the end of the night, to curl up on Cecil’s pillow and burrow into his hair. 

Night Vale goes through a fluctuation and when the fluctuation finishes, Cecil is the host of the radio station, and has always been the host: his prior teacher is forgotten by all but Cecil himself. With the new money and position, Cecil takes some time off and goes to Europe. 

Echo is with him for the wild days of exploration: a new Cecil for every town, a new world at every train stop, the decades falling at their heels, Night Vale a glowing beacon behind them, waiting to guide them home again. In most of the towns, Echo remains an unobtrusive glow on Cecil’s shoulder, but occasionally it walks with him and dances with the strangers in the bars, bringing them back to Cecil for approval, the shining lure of an anglerfish. 

Eventually, Cecil is tired of Europe: tired of being a stranger, and tired of the endless re-invention. He brings them back to Night Vale, and it’s never felt more comfortable in the little town. 

Chapter Four: Where We’re At 

Adulthood is new to Cecil, the flush of Europe still fading from his cheeks. Night Vale itself is new again when they return from the trip: a new bowling alley, a new pizza place, half the residents new but settled for generations. Still, they greet Cecil as their radio host, and express their interest in his European travels. 

Echo and Cecil settle into their routines: days at the radio station, evenings wandering the town, and nights in their quiet apartment, listening to the hum of government helicopters overhead and the singing of the stars beyond that. 

Cecil is an endless well of energy and enthusiasm, rediscovering their home again: the residents, the shops, the gossip. Echo loves to sit on his desk, just under the microphone that broadcasts his voice to the rest of the town, and let his voice wash over it. It shares Cecil’s love for Night Vale, a faithful reflection of his emotions and priorities, and sees the town as an extension of Cecil in many ways. 

And one day in the future, a newcomer will arrive, and Cecil will fall in love. But for now, he is still finding himself, and the true story is yet to begin.

[taciturnpoet]

okay here is the promised anderperry Icarus and the Sun/Apollo post because @73647e enabled me lol

this will be mostly rambling because I love this comparison (and use it a lot) so be happy if there is even a single coherent thought in this okay? talking about this makes my brain go FAST and I went over this about a thousand times so bear with me here

When I had first started thinking about this, I had originally thought of Neil being the Sun and Todd being Icarus. But then I realized no, their dynamic shifts and actually switches roles after Todd does the poem in Keating’s class.

In the beginning, Neil is the one that draws Todd into the group and persuades him to join the poets, all while also encouraging him to be himself and speak up more. While Todd is not only falling for Neil, he’s also trying to take Neil’s advice to heart since Neil is what Todd wants to be.

Neil could befriend a brick wall if left alone with it long enough. Everyone likes him and believes that he is made for great things (though not the same great things he wants to do), and you can tell that Todd wants to get to that point himself eventually. Todd’s been told his entire life that he will never amount to anything unless he becomes this thing he doesn’t even like, and Neil is more of what he aspires to be.

Then the poem in Keating’s class happens and things change.

After the poem, Todd starts to come into himself a little more. He’s gaining confidence in himself and his work—the work he wants to do, the work he’s passionate about—and he’s joking around and talking more with the poets. (Even though this scene is deleted, and I think that’s a crime) he reads a poem out loud to them and Keating at the end of the movie without Neil there.

Now, we know why Neil isn’t there, but that’s not important yet lol

Neil has been Todd's safety net, the person that kickstarted his self-confidence growth and made him truly embrace himself in the long run. By the end of the movie, Todd can show other people his work without Neil having to be there, which is a major development from Todd in the first poets meeting too afraid to speak and always looking to Neil for guidance.

When Todd is helping Neil practice his lines on the dock—another criminally deleted scene—he’s excited. He’s teasing Neil and playing around with him and becomes what he had the potential to be at the beginning of the movie with the help of Neil and Keating. 

Todd’s decided that he wanted to be his own person. He’s not going to try and live up to his parent’s expectations of him becoming a second Jeffrey, he’s going to pursue his writing and be his own person, and he appears to become so much freer after that realization. He’s embraced his passion for writing and poetry and pursues his art without hesitation, just as Neil wants to do with his acting, becoming a shining light of possibilities and potential, and most of all, freedom. 

After the poem, the glimpse of Todd’s brain, and his passion, Neil almost views it as something holy. In Neil’s eyes, Todd and his freedom are something to strive for, to look up to, and hope for like it's something divine. In a way, Todd becomes a symbol of freedom and passion, a beacon of everything Neil could be and wants to be/do.

I know we as a fandom talk about this a lot, but look at the way Neil looks at Todd after the poem, the way the sun is shining on his face and lighting him up only in the way it does whenever he’s having a Moment™ with Todd. No, seriously, it does that to him both when he decides to audition for the play and after the poem, but practically nowhere else in the movie.

Insanity. Anyway.

But then, during this same time that Todd is embracing his freedom, there is Neil. Neil who is practicing and alive and passionate while preparing for the play, making plans for the future, and dreaming of pursuing this life as an actor.

 ["God, for the first time in my whole life, I feel completely alive!" // "Most people, if they're lucky, live about half an exciting life. If I could get the parts, I could live dozens of great lives!"]

And yet, there is another Neil. The Neil who gets confronted by his father and told to stop doing the play, to stop acting, and give up his dreams, his passions, and what he believes to be his life, all to stay stuck in the existence his father wants him in. The Neil that goes to Keating for help and cries that he’s “trapped.”

The moment Neil decides to lie to Keating and tell him that he talked to his father, the moment he chooses to continue with the play and acting despite everything that could happen is the moment he cements his place as the Icarus in their dynamic. He chooses to ignore his father’s warnings against participating in the play and does it anyways. He chooses freedom and passion over safety. Neil chooses to fly.

Neil chose to take a chance, to try and escape and join Todd on the other side of freedom and authenticity, where he could pursue his dream and become an actor. He has his moment to shine, to taste the warmth of the stage lights akin to sunlight as he brings the play to life. All the possibilities, hopes, and dreams, all within his reach in the form of a crown made of sticks and leaves in a small-town theater. He can see his friends and his teacher in the crowd and feels invincible and in his element, bigger than life.

But then comes the melting of the wax and the plummet back to earth as he sees his father’s angry face in the back of the theater, and he knows.

He knew that there was no going back now, no reversing what he’d done, the fact that he’d lied to the two most influential men in his life for just a chance to join the other side. And yet, as someone pointed it out recently (I can’t find the post right now, I’m so sorry), there is a moment when Neil comes out after the play, and he smiles at his father, an attempt to see if maybe he won’t be falling tonight. But then his father doesn’t smile back, and everything goes by in a rushed blur of a freefall.

All of the poets try and reach out to him, to talk to him and congratulate him on his way out, but the only one he looks at is Todd. Todd, who’s so excited to see him afterward, tries to talk to him and get him to come back with them, but Neil smiles sadly at him and lets himself be dragged away. He knew he couldn’t put off this fight with his father forever and decided to stop hiding from it. He’s falling and isn’t trying to stop it.

I think Neil looks at Todd the way he does before they leave because a part of him knows he’s not coming back. He doesn’t want to go, but he can’t slow it down and spends his last moments with them looking at the boy whose become his Sun.

The descent is quick after the car pulls away, and Neil cannot stand up to his father. Every moment that led to Neil’s decision to be a part of the play, to follow Todd, is in the sun's bright light. It makes sense then that he’d die at night, with death embracing him with the sound of a gunshot rather than water splashing.

Todd finds out about Neil's death after sunrise. It's gray and quiet, but the sun still rises even after he knows Neil isn't rising with it.

And he's devastated, and he's angry, and he's no longer afraid to show that. He gets mad at Cameron for blaming Keating for Neil and believing he would kill himself under any circumstances other than his father. [“That is not true, Cameron, you know that. Keating didn’t put us up to anything. Neil loved acting!”]

Then, he gets mad at Nolan, talking back to him in front of his parents in that sham of a conference and in front of Keating's class as Keating is leaving. The same Nolan Todd nearly cried in front of on his first day at Welton because he was so afraid to speak his mind, to stand up for himself.

Todd is grieving, he is angry, and he is stronger than he was at the start. While he stands on his desk for Keating in a show of support, in thanks, he is also standing on his desk in thanks to Neil. For Neil.

Neil's gone. And yet, Todd shows his strength. He stands up for the ones he loves and is thankful for while also standing in defiance for those who played a hand in Neil's end and killing their dreams. He appears to smile ever-so-slightly when Keating looks at him, and Keating must know he'll be okay. 

His best friend is dead. The actor who brought a play to life and cast light everywhere he went was gone, but Todd isn't. Neil's light only reflected what Todd still had and would dedicate to Neil.

The freedom, art, and life that Todd now held were what Neil fell for, and Todd would spend his life creating in memory of the boy who fell trying to join him. Todd had to ensure that everyone would know the story of Neil Perry as much as they did Icarus. They were so similar, after all.

(this started to change halfway through, so idk if it makes sense but that’s fine. please talk to me about anything like this I get so excited about it lol)

[ronqueesha]

I've been thinking about altering something about Sarit and her backstory for a while now.

I think I'm going to remove the idea she was born in the poorest slums of Neon. Instead, she spent her childhood in The Well, the dirty, impoverished and hazardous community underneath the shining capital of the United Colonies.

The Well isn't quite as corrupt and full of desperation as Neon's capitalist hellscape. But people still struggle to survive in the literal underbelly supporting the gleaming beacon of civilization above ground. Sarit would still grow up sickly due to the industrial pollution that fills the air of the filthy underground environment. Her only companion on those long years spent in bed coughing up blood would still be the second-hand terminal her parents managed to give her. So she could browse the Net and educate herself on a multitude of topics. From technological skills to gender.

I've just been thinking that if Sarit grew up on Neon, it creates too many unrealistic steps for her to grow up as an educated UC scientist. She would have to not only forge multiple false identities and break multiple laws even before starting her mad science spree, she would have to spend years evading two different interstellar governments. That just seems like a stretch, especially since she does eventually become a wanted person due to her illegal experiments with cybernetics.

But if Sarit was always a UC citizen, even if one of its poorest, she wouldn't need to use so many criminal methods to obtain her higher education, or even utilize UC healthcare for her transition. Those things would be totally legal, if difficult to obtain for someone from her disadvantaged background. Which would give her more time to spend in universities without constantly looking over her shoulder.

Also, the longer I've developed Sarit, the more I've forgotten that I chose the "Extrovert" trait for her. Ingame, it means she must have a companion (Andreja) in order to avoid penalties to her stats. But over time, I've accidentally started thinking of Sarit as this anti-social, introverted, loner of a person. When my original idea is that she's supposed to be a ray of sunshine who thrives around people.... she just also is obsessed with cutting off her own body parts in order to replace them with machinery.

She can still find her own body frail and insufficient due to her multiple illnesses and frailties while still enjoying other humans quite a lot. And this would also vibe better with the spicy headcanons I've posted on pillowfort. Sarit is kind of a freak in bed, not a wilting wallflower that recoils at the touch of another person. (spending her youth on the net is 100% the reason. and hey, with access to the UC's net, Sarit might have had access to way more debauched stuff than Freestar's net)

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

Makoto's distorted persona: Jeanne d'Arc

Yes I know I am very original. I had a much more detailed write up about Shadow Makoto about 2 months ago but school really made me forget it all 👹

Background: A national heroine of France. Born a peasant girl and through divine guidance, led the French army to restore King Charles VII during the Hundred Years' War. She was burned by the English for heresy.

Now Joan of Arc is a very famous figure and has been connected to the Niijimas and honestly just any female character who has a leadership position so Makoto having Joan of Arc as her corrupted persona is not very original but 🤷‍♀️

So besides Joan of Arc's associations with leadership and the military, she was assigned to Shadow Makoto due to her story about how she was led by 'divine voices' throughout her life. Shadow Makoto rules with an iron fist under her belief that the desires of the people that she hears are telling her to take leadership and take control over their lives. It's essentially an inversion on Joan of Arc's story as while the voices Joan of Arc heard were ultimately for the good of France, Makoto's ultimately do not help the people of Japan who become dependent on her as she dictates every bit of their lives in her position as a goddess alongside the other Phantom Thieves.

Shadow Makoto is meant to be a shadow who shakes things up. She's essentially a wake up call boss and character. As explained in Makoto's post, her palace is much more difficult to navigate and she is very ruthless towards the Infiltrators but regarding her character, she's the start of the Thieves' bad traits really getting emphasized. Ryuji, Yusuke and Haru had bad traits brought up too but they all had explanations related to trauma, Makoto's explanations have trauma as well but she's the first character who will show that the Phantom Thieves aren't shining beacons of moral righteousness and are ultimately human not just in their pasts but in their character.

Makoto is a perfectionist who showed in her intro that she believed a lot in the social hierarchy and followed the set social structure. When she joins the Phantom Thieves, she does start to see past this but she does ultimately decide to be a police commissioner which is a noble goal but her lack of second thoughts regarding becoming a member of the police shows that she still has a lot of faith in authority which the other Phantom Thieves don't have which is why her palace is very rule based and dictated by order.

The power of a god twisted Makoto to the person she could become in her path to becoming the police commissioner as reaching that position requires years and years of work and having to work in a system that is beyond broken and corrupt. Shadow Makoto 'fixed' the justice system by taking complete control of it as its leader not just as the police commissioner but as what is essentially its Empress. Technically it would be Prime Minister since her palace setup is more modern but Shadow Makoto's reign is absolute and under divine rule so Absolute Emperor is more accurate.

When Makoto is stopped and she is no longer corrupted, she would seriously reconsider her dream of being a police commissioner. It's a good dream and has some personal ties to her but she's seen firsthand how much it destroys people like her sister Sae. With her character she would most likely not give up on it entirely but she would take some time to explore other avenues of a much freer existence before throwing herself into the grueling work of police because while it is important to reform society, Makoto can't reform society when she's still stuck in her own bubble because the reason society went to shit was because it's a world filled with hundreds of thousands of millions of different people with different circumstances, wishes, dreams, etc.

Now for the appearance of Jeanne d'Arc as Shadow Makoto's corrupted persona isn't super fleshed out but an idea my friend came up with is that Jeanne d'Arc would be based on this cover on Born this Way by Lady Gaga

To give body horror and be a throwback to Johanna but obviously more twisted and corrupted. The motorcycle would be more demented as Jeanne d'Arc than Johanna to highlight the fact that its a corrupted persona but also Jeanne d'Arc was quite a violent woman which is only natural in the military but is commonly glossed over by people talking about her story.

When Jeanne d'Arc is no longer corrupted, her form changes to a chariot to highlight how Makoto is no longer taking the lone path of a ruler but the path of a leader who supports and is supported by others.

[triassictriserratops]

about that pearl anon earlier i just want you to know when i read the pearl scenes in mj when i was a preteen i knew there was some sexual subtext going on but i hd no way to articulate it. so idk youre not weirdo for reading the text the way you did cause i saw it too

In response to this post and this (original) post

Hi Anon! Just call me Captain Subtext. Wherever there is sexual subtext to be found - I'll be there. Wherever there is queer subtext to be found - I'll be there. Wherever there is dramatic irony or ironic symbolism - I'll be there. Just shine the "pearl" beacon into the sky and I'LL BE THERE 🦪🦸🏽‍♀️

[windvexer]

waait. how do you actually consistently go from the basic divinatory interpretation to the nuanced and detailed one? currently this level of detail is Exactly what im trying to accomplish. im happy with the feedback i get and the last year and a half ive done more progress than i did in 7 years of reading casually but i lack that oomf.

did you base this on a very specific card combo? is it something that you and your divinatory spirit have agreed on specifically? whats the actual process? btw just wanted to say thanks for posting such consistently cool stuff 🍻 invaluable

Hi! Great question.

I worked heavily with Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson during this process, exactly because it cuts through quite a lot of the fluffier nonsense we now see with cards.

When I started developing my notes, I sat down and decided that I would only include statements which were specific enough that they could not apply to a majority of situations.

In more modern texts, almost any card can be applied to almost any situation because the meanings are like, "this is a good time to start a new project! Power is around; is it your power, or someone else's power? Maybe your project should be contemplating power!"

Which is encouragement that applies about equally well to someone deciding what career path to take as someone trying to figure out how to elude the police in a murder investigation.

So the actual process, the lighthouse that was my beacon into a harbor of meaning, was that the meanings I generated must be so specific that a seeker could easily say, "sorry, that's not what's going on with me at all."

Which has made reading a lot easier and a lot more accurate.

Like, if you think of a note to add and get anxiety about it being so specific that seekers would immediately know you're wrong, you're on the right track.

So, as an actual process, I'd open up my word processor, read the entry in that book mentioned above, and start with a few key words.

Ace/Swords Key words: Authority, triumph, and conquest. Borders and confinement, and overcoming them.

I based the key words off of historical meanings of the cards, but also based on my own feelings about the card.

I worked on these notes by contemplating card meanings, exploring my own ideas about the cards, and also trawling modern meanings (after all, people have had great ideas about tarot since the early 1900s - no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater).

Then, I created my notes structured as sentences that might actually be said to a seeker.

Meanings: Do not trust that person. Are you actually helping, or are you steamrolling the victim? No, they're not going to apologize. You're making up a lot of stories to justify your bad decisions, but this time your friends are right.

(**the above meanings I made up for this post; don't add them to your personal notes about the Ace/Swords!)

I added notes until I felt every facet of the card had been explored. I often went back and edited old entries. Often, when working on a new card, I'd realize that it overlapped too much with a card I'd already written up, or that it gave me new opinions on an old card. In these situations I worked with both entries until I was satisfied that the cards were all represented in a unique way.

Some cards ended up relying almost entirely on historical meanings. Some cards ended up being much more modern. Others ended up being a lot less based on external sources at all.

I also took care to note down omens/portents when possible. "This card is an excellent omen; success is assured." "This is one of the worst omens in the deck - there is nothing you can do." And so on.

When I worked with my spirit, he directly told me what to type. A lot of his meanings were much more biting than mine were. He's a very direct guy.

Because the meanings are so direct, reading has become easier - it's a bit like sliding panes of glass over each other and finding the places where the light shines through; the thread of truth common to all cards.

Now, all that being said - I rarely work completely within this system. When actually doing readings, I also use other various methodologies to interpret the cards.

Knowing lots of methodologies of reading tarot is IMO like speaking many different dialects. It's all one language, but as a translator of the cards, you can pick up so much more nuance if you know more forms of the language.

[dndfantasygirl]

Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 20: Orpheus)

Rating: Mature Word count: 4k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, potentially life-altering decision, angst, brief flashback to Astarion's ascension decision

Summary: When their original plan fails, Delphie has an important decision to make...one that Astarion is desperate to avoid.

*Link to AO3 Post

*Link to Previous Chapter

As Delphie stands before the imposing figure of the Netherbrain, she senses the weight of its gaze like a physical force pressing against her being. Despite not meeting its eyes directly, she can feel the piercing intensity of its glare boring into her soul, sending a chill down her spine.

The Netherbrain's presence is overwhelming, its sheer power emanating from every pore. Its eyes, glowing a sinister shade of red, seem to pierce through the darkness.

Without warning, a surge of crimson energy erupts from the Netherbrain, a tangible wave of dark power that courses through the air like a raging tempest. Caught off guard, the wood elf and her companions are swept off their feet, their bodies hurled backward as if caught in the grasp of an invisible force.

For Delphie, time seems to slow as she is propelled through the air, her senses reeling from the onslaught. As she hurtles through the air, her mind becomes a whirlwind of memories, each one a precious fragment of her life that flashes before her eyes with vivid clarity.

She recalls the day she first met Echo, a tiny hatchling emerging from her egg, a symbol of new beginnings and endless possibilities. The image of Vesper and Pax struggling to break free from their own shells brings a smile to her face, reminiscing on the gentle encouragement she offered them, nurturing their growth with her own hands.

The memory of Shadowheart envelops her in warmth, the embrace they shared upon her return to the Dragon Cove, a silent testament to the bond they share, forged through trials and tribulations.

Thoughts of Lae'zel stir a mix of emotions within her, their brief yet heartfelt exchanges echoing in her mind, each word a thread in the intricate tapestry of their friendship.

Gale's unwavering support and vast knowledge of magic flood her thoughts, a beacon of guidance in her journey to master the arcane arts, his presence a source of strength in times of uncertainty.

Wyll's overprotectiveness elicits a fond chuckle from Delphie, his steadfast loyalty a testament to his dedication to her well-being, even in the face of danger.

Karlach's sharp wit and humor shine brightly in her memories, a source of levity amidst the darkness that surrounds them, each quip a reminder to find joy in the midst of adversity.

Alden's fatherly advice echoes in her mind, his wisdom a guiding light in the brief but meaningful interactions they shared, leaving an indelible mark on her heart.

Her step-siblings, despite their draconic nature, remain steadfast allies, their choice to retain their humanoid forms a testament to their commitment to strengthening their bond with her.

But amidst the kaleidoscope of memories, one figure stands out above all others – Astarion. From their rocky beginnings fraught with mistrust to the profound connection they now share, Delphie reflects on the transformative power of love amidst chaos and adversity. Despite the scars of their past, they have found solace and strength in each other's arms, learning to love and be loved in return.

As the abyss looms ever closer, Delphie finds a sense of peace within her heart. If this is to be their end, she realizes that every moment, every trial, and every hardship was worth it, for in the embrace of love, even the darkest of times can be illuminated by its radiant glow.

Suddenly, a surge of energy disrupts the despair settling over her. She feels herself being pulled forward, a familiar sensation of magic enveloping her senses. With a start, she looks up to behold a swirling vortex of cerulean light materializing behind her, the unmistakable sign of the Emperor's arcane prowess.

Before she can fully comprehend the situation, the Emperor emerges from the depths of the portal, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the chaos unfolding around them. With a casual gesture, he commands the forces of magic at his disposal, sending Delphie and her companions hurtling back into the shimmering depths of the portal.

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

I pulled you out just in time. The situation is worse than I thought. This is an elder brain no longer. The magic of the crown has caused it to evolve.

"Oh, really? I had no idea," Astarion interjects with sarcasm as he extends a hand to help Delphie to her feet.

Beside them, Lae'zel and Shadowheart rise from the ground, their expressions a mirror of the tension rippling through the group.

Delphie's brow furrows in frustration as she struggles to regain her footing, Astarion's supportive grip anchoring her against the disorienting aftermath of their hasty escape.

"I thought the Netherstones were supposed to allow us to dominate the brain," she groans.

I thought so too, but that was when I believed it was still an elder brain. It has been anticipating our every move from the start. We will need to rethink our plan.

With a furrowed brow, Delphie casts a suspicious glance at the Emperor as he floats away, his form receding into the distance.

Though his words ring with a semblance of truth, Delphie's intuition prickles with distrust, a nagging sense of unease gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. Despite the urgency of their situation, she cannot shake the lingering doubt that shrouds her perception of the Emperor's motives.

Beside her, Lae'zel shakes her head in disbelief, her expression a reflection of the collective frustration shared by the group. They follow the Emperor with grim determination as he leads them across multiple large floating platforms.

The githyanki's power will see us through one last time. If we do not do this, all is lost. This may be our last chance to defeat the brain.

Lae'zel pulls the hammer from her Bag of Holding, her gaze lingering on Orpheus's restrained form with a pang of remorse.

Orpheus floats several feet above the ground, ensnared by the crimson tendrils of magic emanating from clusters of fiery opals. Bound and helpless, his once-proud visage now bears the weight of captivity, a tragic testament to the sacrifices made in the name of their cause.

As the Emperor approaches Orpheus, Lae'zel's eyes flicker to him with suspicion, a silent warning of her vigilance against any treachery that may lurk beneath his facade.

I have assessed our encounter with the Netherbrain from every angle. I know why we have failed.

The group watches in silence, their breaths held in anticipation as the Emperor's piercing gaze falls upon Delphie.

The problem was not the stones, the problem was you.

Delphie's emerald eyes narrow, her arms crossing defiantly as she meets the Emperor's gaze head-on. "Excuse me?" she retorts.

You can only make one move at a time, but the Netherbrain calculates every possible move at once. It knows what you will do, it knows everything you could possibly do. You cannot outmaneuver it. To defeat it, you would have to think like an illithid. Better yet, be one. Your mind is not capable of this. Mine is.

The air crackles with tension as the mind flayer extends his clawed hand toward Delphie.

You will give the stones to me. I will assimilate Orpheus, and then I will be able to leave this Prism to face the brain.

The wood elf's instincts bristle with caution as she meets the mind flayer's stare, a chill running down her spine at the thought of surrendering the stones to such a malevolent force. Her grip tightens around the Netherstones, a surge of defiance rising within her as she braces herself against the mind flayer's insidious machinations.

Before she can respond, Lae'zel steps forward, the Orphic Hammer held aloft in a gesture of defiance. "Assimilate him? Tsk'va!" she spits, her voice dripping with contempt. "No, now is the time to liberate him!"

With her hands planted firmly on her hips, Delphie adopts a posture that speaks volumes, her demeanor reminiscent of a parent reprimanding a wayward child.

"No, you're not. Furthermore, I don't trust you," she declares, her voice carrying a note of resolve that brooks no argument. Despite the Emperor's assurances, Delphie's intuition continues to prickle with suspicion.

You still don't trust me? After all we've been through?

"Oh, please!" she scoffs, her eyes rolling with exaggerated incredulity. "You act as though you haven't tried that one on me before, and just so you know, it's never going to work."

Astarion's lips curl into a faint smile as he observes Delphie's spirited defiance, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. She's come a long way since their paths first crossed. It's a strange juxtaposition to think back on the wood elf's earlier days, when she was plagued by social awkwardness and shyness. And yet, even then, there was a fire within her, a fierce spirit that refused to be suppressed.

He remembers fondly the moments when Delphie would unleash her sharp tongue, fearlessly confronting those who crossed her path. It was a quality that never failed to elicit a smile from Astarion. It's one of the many things he adores about her.

I have been your salvation from the very beginning. Your knight in shining armor.

Delphie's laughter cuts through the tension like a blade, a sharp retort to his claims of grandeur.

"You were my knight in shining armor?" she scoffs. "That's hilarious because from what I recall, you tried to force me to consume a tadpole that would cause me to become half-illithid. You were trying to force me to become the one thing I've been trying to avoid for the past few months. That's not a very knight in shining armor thing to do."

I freed you from the nautiloid, prevented you from crashing to your death. I have protected you ever since - at no small cost to myself. I came to you as a leader, but I did not shy away from showing you vulnerability. I needed you as much as you needed me.

Delphie's resolve remains unyielding, her gaze narrowed in skepticism as she listens to his claims.

"The only people I ever needed are standing beside me at this moment," she retorts. "I never needed you. Don't you DARE put words into my mouth that I would never speak."

Her words are like a slap in the face, a stark rejection of the Emperor's attempts to rewrite the narrative of their relationship.

I'm just like you. We have the same enemy, the same story.

Delphie's response is swift and merciless, her words dripping with contempt as she delivers her final verdict. "We might have the same enemy, but we're nothing alike," she declares.

Enough! Release the Netherstones to me.

With a snarl curling her lips, the wood elf spits out a single word that echoes with the weight of her defiance: "No."

The Emperor's expression darkens.

You have exhausted our alliance, and in doing so, you have ruined us all. I did everything I could to avoid this, but it seems you have whittled my options down to a single one. In order to survive, I must now join the Netherbrain.

With a flick of his wrist, the Emperor summons a swirling portal of dark energy. Without hesitation, he steps through the portal, leaving Delphie and her companions stranded in the desolate expanse of the Astral Plane.

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

Delphie turns to Lae'zel with a desperate plea in her eyes. "Give me the Hammer."

Without hesitation, Lae'zel obeys, handing the Orphic Hammer over to Delphie with a solemn nod. Gripping the weapon tightly in her hands, Delphie arcs her arms back, channeling all her strength into a single decisive strike.

With a resounding crash, the head of the Hammer collides with one of the clumps of fire opal, sending shards of crystal flying.

The party watches in tense anticipation as the fiery prison around Orpheus begins to crumble, one of his hands dropping free from its constraints.

Undeterred, Delphie repeats the motion, shattering the fire opal on the other side of Orpheus with equal force. As the last remnants of his captivity fall away, Orpheus falls to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to regain his bearings.

The party cautiously circles around him, their weapons at the ready as they prepare to face whatever challenges may lie ahead. Delphie holds out an arm to stop Lae'zel from approaching too closely, her instincts on high alert.

"Careful," she warns, her voice low and cautious. "He might not be very friendly after an aeon of captivity."

As Orpheus attempts to stand, his movements are slow and unsteady. With a flick of his wrist, he summons a nearby sword to his hand.

Delphie takes a step forward, her voice steady and measured despite the gravity of their situation. "Orpheus," she begins calmly, her hands held up in a gesture of peace, "we're not here to hurt you. We need your help."

Orpheus's gaze narrows, his expression hardened by years of captivity and betrayal. "You reek of illithid," he snarls. "You took advantage of my powers. And you slaughtered my honor guard. Nonetheless, it seems we must be allies."

Lae'zel bows her head respectfully, acknowledging Orpheus's lineage with a sense of deference. "Your Majesty. The Prince of the Comet, Gith's true heir. It is an honor."

But Orpheus's response is swift and cutting, his disdain evident in every word he speaks. "Do not patronize me," he retorts, his tone dripping with venom. "You rejected the illithid when it no longer suited your needs. No doubt you freed me because it suits you now. I will never forgive nor forget your abuse of my powers."

Shadowheart steps forward, her voice cutting through the fraught atmosphere with a sense of urgency. "The Emperor held all the cards until now. We freed you at the first opportunity," she asserts.

But Orpheus's response is swift and merciless, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "That is false," he retorts, his voice dripping with disdain. "You had the opportunity to surrender yourself to my honor guard. They would have given you a noble end."

His words hang heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the choices that led them to this moment of reckoning. As the gith prince circles the group, Astarion instinctively positions himself protectively beside Delphie.

"My guard would have freed me," Orpheus continues, "and I would have stopped the elder brain before it evolved into a Netherbrain. All of that suffering - avoidable were it not for your actions."

The weight of Orpheus's accusation settles like a leaden weight upon the group, casting a pall over their already fraught situation. Despite their best intentions, they find themselves confronted with the consequences of their decisions.

"As much as I love a good drama," Astarion interjects, his tone devoid of its usual jest, "it seems now is not the time. The Netherbrain is currently in the midst of executing its Grand Design."

Delphie's expression hardens with determination as she nods in agreement. "Astarion's right," she declares, her voice ringing with resolve. "We need to stop bickering and end this, now."

"In this, we are aligned," he concedes with a weary sigh, his gaze meeting Delphie's with a sense of resignation. "I am obliged to overlook your transgressions. We will destroy the Netherbrain together, and put an end to this nascent Empire before it expands into the stars."

"The ghaik was correct about one thing," Orpheus adds. "The Netherbrain's power is beyond us. At this point, it will take an illithid to unleash the full potential of the Netherstones."

Delphie's brow furrows in contemplation as she weighs their options, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty and doubt. But before she can voice her concerns, Astarion's voice cuts through the silence, his concern evident in every word.

"Darling, you're not seriously considering turning into one of those tentacled freaks," he says, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

Delphie forces herself to meet his gaze, her resolve steeling against the doubt that threatens to consume her. "Can you excuse us for a moment, Orpheus?" she requests, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within her.

The gith prince nods in understanding as Delphie leads Astarion away

"Please don't do this, Delphie," Astarion begs. "You promised you'd listen to me when it comes to making foolish decisions."

Delphie's heart clenches at the anguish in his voice. "What choice do I have?" she whispers. "I can't ask that of any of you. And I sure as hell can't ask that of the last person Lae'zel is devoted to."

Desperation flickers in Astarion's gaze. "Surely, there must be another way," he insists. "There always is. You've taught me that much, haven't you?"

Tears well up in Delphie's eyes as she shakes her head. "Not this time, dretri," she murmurs, her voice choked with emotion. The thought of what lies ahead fills her with a sense of dread, but she knows that there is no turning back now.

As Delphie turns to walk away, a hand closes around her arm, halting her in her tracks.

"No, I won't let you," the vampire spawn declares.

But Delphie's resolve remains unshaken, her eyes flashing with a steely determination. "It's not your choice to make."

Astarion's gaze softens as he meets her defiant stare, his heart heavy with the burden of his own helplessness. Tears begin to well in his crimson eyes.

"You're right," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not my choice to make, but you need to understand, not everything is your burden to bear. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

With a sad smile, the wood elf reaches out to cup his cheek with gentle fingers.

"And you've made sure of that, Astarion," she murmurs, her voice laced with gratitude. "I will never forget that and will always truly be grateful for it...but this is one time it does. Please understand."

A tear falls from Delphie's cheek. She leans forward to press a tender kiss to Astarion's lips. "I love you, dretri."

Tears glisten in her eyes as Astarion's desperate plea echoes through the Astral Plane. But despite the pain that lingers in her heart, she knows that there is no turning back now. She wipes away the tears that threaten to spill over. Without a backward glance, she strides confidently over to where Orpheus stands.

"Delphie, no!" Astarion's voice rings out behind her, a desperate cry that tugs at her heartstrings. But she knows that she cannot falter now, not when so much is at stake.

"Orpheus..." the wood elf begins, her voice faltering for a moment as doubt creeps into her mind. But before she can finish her sentence, a strange sensation washes over her, a tingling at the back of her mind that sends a shiver down her spine.

Delphie's breath catches in her throat as she feels the presence of another consciousness brushing against her own.

"Orpheus-" she starts again, her voice trailing off as she senses the familiar touch of a tadpole connecting with hers. Hesitantly, she opens herself up to the connection, knowing full well who it is that seeks entry into her mind.

As Delphie connects with Astarion's consciousness, a flood of memories washes over her, each one a vivid tableau of their shared experiences together. Through his eyes, she sees herself as she has never seen before: laughing, smiling, crying, and above all, loving. She witnesses the moments they have shared, the joy and the sorrow interwoven like threads in the tapestry of their lives.

But amidst the chaos of their shared memories, Delphie sees something else, something deeper and more profound than she ever could have imagined. She sees herself being spun around the dance floor at Cazador's ball, the music swirling around them as they move in perfect harmony. She sees herself sharing a smile with Astarion after their performance with Alfira and Volo.

However, it is the memory of their kisses that resonates the most deeply within her, a testament to the depth of their love and devotion. As she feels the echo of his nonexistent heartbeat pulsing with affection, she is overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions, a flood of warmth and tenderness that washes over her like a gentle caress.

But amidst the love and happiness, there is fear, a shadow that lingers in the corners of their shared consciousness. She feels his fear for her, a palpable presence that tightens like a vice around her heart. She feels it when she screams at the top of her lungs in the zaith'isk, when Cazador lets her fall into the abyss, when she drops to the ground lifelessly after Bhaal claims his blood back.

In that moment, Delphie finally understands. Astarion hasn't felt these emotions in two centuries. He needs her. She is the light to his darkness, the anchor that keeps him tethered to the world of the living.

As Delphie's consciousness lingers in the shared realm of their minds, a familiar voice echoes through the recesses of her thoughts, cutting through the haze of memories and emotions with startling clarity. It is her own voice, laden with a sense of urgency and warning, a reminder of the dire consequences that await should Astarion choose to undergo the ritual of ascension.

"The ritual will consume your humanity," she hears herself say, the words ringing in her ears with a haunting resonance. "All of the good that's left...it'll all be gone."

In an instant, Delphie is transported back to the pivotal moment when Astarion stood on the precipice of ascension, his resolve tested by the allure of power and immortality. She feels the weight of his uncertainty, the tumultuous storm of emotions that raged within him as he grappled with the choice before him.

"I've told you many times before, darling. I'm not good. It's not who I am."

"That's who he wants you to be. You're free now, dretri. You can choose to be good. You are good," she insists, closing the distance and tenderly caressing his cheek. "You are so much more than him, Astarion. I want you to live a life you'll be proud of. There has to be another way to end your suffering, and I'll help you find it. But there are innocent men, women, and children in those cells. You can break the cycle, my love. You can be the change that ends this torment."

Astarion, grappling with his emotions, feels a solitary tear trace its path down his cheek. "I just want to protect you."

Those five words echo in her mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder of the bond that binds them together, even in the darkest of times.

But as Astarion tears his mind from hers, Delphie is left grappling with the weight of his words, the truth of his feelings echoing in the recesses of her thoughts. She glances back at him, her heart breaking at the sight of the pain etched upon his features. In that moment, it finally occurs to her that if she evolves, she won't be the only one affected. The repercussions of her decision would reverberate far beyond herself, touching the lives of those she holds most dear.

The realization hits her like a bolt of lightning, jolting her from the depths of her despair. With a heavy sigh, she admits defeat, the words falling from her lips with a sense of resignation. "I can't do it."

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

Had this card finished for a while before posting, but I was kinda insecure about it lol. I talk a little more in depth on this card's Patreon post (you can view and download it for free btw), but long story short, I got stuck in my head about whether I was embodying the symbolism of The Star and then I realized I didn't have to have a one-to-one counterpart to every Rider-Waite-Smith card lol.

Once I wasn't so stuck in my head, I realized I really like the way this card came out! I usually struggle to draw fire, but I found this quick tutorial and it actually gave me a process to try! Would recommend!

But let's go ahead and talk interpretations. They'll be below the cut as always:

After The Tower's destruction, The Star rises from the wreckage-- a shining beacon of hope.

While you likely experienced a period of pain and upheaval in the past, the presence of The Star suggests that good things are coming your way.

The Star is a card of hope and renewal. It reminds us that even though we went through trauma or generally crappy situations, we can emerge from them confident that things will get better. There are good things coming and we're urged to focus on those.

A lot of the symbolism within this card is somewhat religious in nature. The original woman is kneeling down with one of her feet seemingly walking on water, an homage to the Christian understanding of Jesus. The Star appears to be very in touch with the higher power within her whether her understanding of it stems from religion or her own spiritual beliefs.

In this way, we're urged to have faith in the forces we might not be able to comprehend. Sometimes singular or series of events can happen without us putting much effort into their creation. Sometimes, something we wanted or needed comes to us even when it didn't seem at all possible. The Star urges us to have faith in ourselves and trust that what we want will come to us.

Be confident in yourself, have hope that things will change, and begin to free yourself from the fear that keeps you from living authentically.

Reversed, the once hopeful figure of The Star has lost their glow. They've become lost in their pain and struggle to find any reason to stay positive. There's only so much a person can take before they feel beaten down and hopeless.

An important distinction, however, if that a reversed Star does not mean you have no hope. There are still plenty of chances for our situations to improve and for us to heal, this reversed card simply indicates our own feelings and thoughts.

While it can be frustrating to hear that something's 'all in our head', a reversed Star can be looked at as a sign that we have the power to make things better. Whatever higher power put us on Earth also gave us the ability to alter our reality and create a better life for ourselves.

Of course we may need help along the way whether that be a therapist, doctor, support group, or our loved ones, but that help is out there.

Even a reversed Star is a message that the worst of our pain and suffering is over. The pain we suffered is real and valid, it always will be. But The Star reminds us that we have the power to heal from it and come back stronger than when we started.

When designing this card, I wanted Haruka to represent the Star in question.

After Kiryu's entire family died, he felt like he had no reason to stay alive. The whole reason he went on his journey in the first game was to be reunited with the people he loved. He was willing to forgive those that had hurt him and move on, but in a very short period of time, everything was taken from him.

Everything except Haruka.

Haruka isn't free from suffering, either; her mother was taken from her and her father tried to kill her, but she serves as an anchor for Kiryu to hold onto his desire to live (even if he continues to struggle in the future).

She's an opportunity for Kiryu to get away from the Tojo Clan-- the organization that gave him everything he loved, but also took it away so many times. A beacon of hope leading Kiryu towards the life he actually wants.

Things aren't easy. Healing from such intense trauma rarely is, but there's hope for this little girl who never had a proper family and this man who just lost his.

Fate seemingly destroyed both their lives, but it seems like it also gave them everything they needed to find new meaning in the mess left over.

[sorushing]

Okay Okay Sorusing you've got me intrigued: What is FLY?!!!!

thanks for asking @sanfangirl !!! It’s my favorite things ever: superheroes, secret identities, and Hiccstrid. and modern AU, of course.

(So, FLY was the title I picked after seeing one of those motivational posts of it being an acronym for “first love yourself”. In the original iteration of this AU, it used to be more important, but the actually flying is also important lol. It’s not really that good of a title anymore but eh.)

—

This is my superhero AU (“really, not much to know” is actually the AU of this AU) in which Astrid is training to be a superhero sidekick at school. Her family name is disgraced, so she cannot become a “solo” hero without lots of extra work in college. She has extremely good control over her water powers.

in this universe, everyone born in “The Above” (artificial flying islands above th earhipelago after a war) is born with something called a “karyon”: a mark/bead on the neck that grants them powers by using a particle called dust.

I have an entire 10 minute explanation on dust that is plot-relevant but I’m skipping it right now for brevity’s sake

one day, she is confronted with an odd situation: a vigilante who’s powers don’t work how powers SHOULD work, fighting a new kind of villain that recently popped up. He doesn’t have a karyon, and neither do these new villains who seem to permanently be beserk and incapable of human speech or thought.

after this odd meeting, she wakes up in the middle of the night, outside her house, after having an odd dream, and her powers are…off. Instead of water manipulation, she can now fire off odd spikes…and why can she smell so well?!

—

She eventually discovers more about the situation: these new villains are people controlled by a villain that the vigilante - whom she’s dubbed “black” - calls “The Queen”, and are being hypnotised to do her bidding.

she eventually agrees to help him out, and joins him in his fight against her, since the heroes aren’t doing anything about the situation and she knows they won’t budge any time soon.

The vigilante calls himself “Night Fury” which as her laughing at first: him? Name himself after the unholy offspring of lightning and death that all of the Seven Families boasted to have survived encounters with?

But then she realised that his powers fit the creature to a T: the lightning. The super speed. She invisibility.

and then, more puzzle pieces click. She’s somehow gotten the powers of a Nadder. All of these new villains are dragon themed…so the Queen must have some obsession with the ancestral dragons.

things spiral from there.

—

on hiccup’s side of things, life isn’t looking great at all: the only person in the above who doesn’t have a karyon.

he has three and they all don’t work properly at all. They even cause him so much harm that he had to undergo surgery to get one removed.

His father is the shining beacon of his family, the leader of the Seven, superheroes of epic proportions who are gods among men, essentially.

his mother is Skullcrusher’s second in command who has control over the Alpha Matrix, a device that monitors all superpower usage. (And a certain kind of superhuman but shhh he doesn’t know that)

and then, there’s him, Hiccup. he’s just a screw-up. He is not worth of either family name and knows the other relatives in the council are dying to kick him out and leave him nameless. To make him a nobody.

So it doesn’t surprise him in the slightest when his father sends him to live with his aunt to avoid the media.

hiccup knows it’s to hide the fact that his son is weak, or that he even HAS a son, but alas.

-

when hiccup was young, a supervillain did something to his karyons. Hiccup knows better than to ask which villain.

For whenever he asks; his father or mother just shake their head or freeze, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

he knows his karyon was messed up by a villain, and someday? Someday he WILL find out which villain and give him a piece of his mind. —

things don’t exactly begin to look up once the dreams start.

dreams in which is body doesn’t ache whenever he gets into contract with high concentrations of dust.

Dreams in which he can freely leap across rooftops, dreams in which he is fighting villains effortlessly from afar with his lightning powers - well not completely effortlessly, but still!! - and shows great mastery over his lightning and super speed-

powers which he doesn’t have. At all.

or…does he?

things derail further once a certain blonde girl in blue begins to pop up in his dreams, stubborn, fierce, and…wait isn’t that his classmate?!

-

also another fun fact: Gothi is a tattooist in this AU.

—

eventually, the other dragon riders would show up…but I’m not that far yet.

———

this is my oldest au and the one that has been reworked the most.

anyways I think I should stop here before I type an entire essay. Thanks for asking :D

[writing-with-sophia]

Metaphors and similes

Metaphors and similes are both figures of speech used in literature to create comparisons between two things that are not alike. So what are they?

Metaphor is a common figure of speech that makes a comparison by directly relating one thing to another unrelated thing. Unlike similes, metaphors do not use words such as “like” or “as” to make comparisons. For example, "Life is a journey" is a metaphor that compares life to a journey.

Simile is a figure of speech that compares two things using "like" or "as." Common similes include the descriptive phrases “cool as a cucumber,” “cold as ice,” and “sly like a fox.” Writers often use similes to introduce concrete images into writing about abstract concepts. For example, "Her eyes were like diamonds" is a simile that compares the woman's eyes to diamonds.

Metaphors and similes are very common in literature. Here are some tips for using them effectively in your writing:

Be original: Try to avoid clichéd or overused metaphors and similes, such as "life is a box of chocolates." Instead, try to come up with unique and creative comparisons that will grab your reader's attention.

Be specific: Use specific and concrete language in your metaphors and similes to make your writing more vivid and engaging. For example, instead of saying "the sky was beautiful," you might say "the sky was a canvas of pink and orange, like a painting come to life."

Use appropriate comparisons: Make sure that your metaphors and similes are appropriate for the context of your writing. For example, if you're writing a serious essay about a difficult topic, you might want to avoid using humorous or lighthearted comparisons.

Avoid mixing metaphors: Be careful not to mix metaphors, which can confuse your reader and detract from the impact of your writing. For example, don't say "she was a ray of sunshine in a sea of darkness" and then follow it up with "but her smile was a beacon of hope."

Practice: Like any writing technique, using metaphors and similes effectively takes practice. Experiment with different comparisons and see what works best for your writing style.

There are several ways you can practice using metaphors and similes in your writing. Here are a few ideas to get you started:

Read examples of metaphors and similes in literature: Reading examples of metaphors and similes in the works of other writers can help you get a better sense of how they are used effectively in writing. Look for examples in poetry, novels, and other types of literature.

Brainstorm comparisons: Set aside some time to brainstorm different comparisons you could make in your writing. Start by thinking about a particular topic or theme, and then try to come up with unique and creative comparisons that relate to that topic.

Practice rewriting sentences with metaphors and similes: Start with a simple sentence and practice rewriting it using a metaphor or simile. For example, you could start with the sentence "The sun was shining brightly" and rewrite it as "The sun was a bright, glowing orb in the sky."

Use prompts: Use prompts or writing exercises that encourage you to use metaphors and similes in your writing. For example, you could write a poem or short story that uses a specific metaphor or simile as its central theme.

Get feedback: Share your writing with others and ask for feedback on how effectively you've used metaphors and similes. Consider joining a writing group or taking a writing class where you can share your work and get feedback from other writers.

And finally, here are some little exercises for you. I'd be happy if you give them a try and post back in the comments!

Practice rewriting a familiar story or fairy tale using metaphors and similes to create a fresh perspective. For example, you might rewrite "Little Red Riding Hood" as a story about a "brave young warrior" who must navigate a "forest of shadows" to defeat a "ferocious beast."

Write a descriptive paragraph using at least three different metaphors or similes to describe a place you've visited. For example, you can describe a beach as "a vast, shimmering expanse of golden sand," "a playground for the waves," and "a canvas painted with the colors of the sunset."

Choose an object, such as a tree or a piece of furniture, and write a descriptive paragraph using at least three different metaphors or similes to describe it. E.g. describing a tree as "a sentinel standing guard over the forest," "a wise old sage with branches reaching to the sky," and "a living sculpture carved by the wind."

By using metaphors and similes effectively in your writing, you can create vivid and engaging descriptions that will captivate your reader's imagination and bring your writing to life.

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