#'What do?' is the big question of our times

[centrally-unplanned]

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet. 

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.

[crushpunky]

drew tells a story about actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this one’s a bit short, but it was suggested and i thought it was really cute so yk i had to write it. based off of drew’s recent esquire interview <3

“Your audition tape for Queer was a slam dunk, can you tell us what you did for the tape?” Drew read the question card.

“Oh, this is actually a funny story.” Drew laughed to himself, crossing his legs. “The first one I had my good friend Rudy Pankow help me tape it. I usually have my girlfriend help me, but she was shooting at the time.”

“One of the scenes was me in bed, I believe, and so Rudy came to my apartment,” Drew explained, speaking dramatically with his hands, “and I had my camera and tripod set up and I was laying in the bed, kinda sort-of framing myself and he came in was like… ‘so what are we doing’?”

Drew laughed, “and I told him, ‘just trust me, ok, I need your help’. Then, as if it couldn’t get any more suspicious, my wonderful girlfriend, y/n, gets back from shooting and walks into our room to find me and Rudy on our bed with the camera set up.”

“I was like, ‘babe I promise this is not what it looks like, I’m just filming an audition’, but she was already like on the floor, crying and laughing.” Drew grinned at the memory, the site of y/n’s smile and adorable laughter playing in his mind.

“But, I appreciate him for helping me with that… and y/n for not freaking out at the strange site she walked in on.” Drew laughed, flipping to the next card.

“Oh, speak of the devil, your good friend y/n y/ln was quoted saying, ‘Drew is probably the scariest sweetheart you’ll ever meet’,” Drew blushed as he read, “what is it like finding the balance between ‘scary’ and ‘sweetheart’ roles?”

The quote was from an interview when someone asked y/n if she ever felt intimidated or even scared working opposite Drew as the big bad Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks. While the scenes between their characters on OBX would certainly get intense at times, it wasn’t very often she was “scared” of Drew. After all, she knew her boyfriend better than anyone else and knew the big heart hiding behind his imposing exterior.

“Wow, I’d like to thank my ‘good friend’ y/n y/ln for that wonderful quote.” Drew grinned, scratching his jaw bashfully. “Well I certainly like to challenge myself, and y’know depending on where I am, that could come in the form of more intense roles or more grounded or more kinda… soft? I don’t know. Y/n says I need to be in a rom com, so maybe that’ll be the next step after this.”

[xetlynn]

I crave s2 claggor x reader cuddling please 🙏🙏🙏 I just need to lay in a warm bed with that man for as long as possible

<3

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Dramatic Needs

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which [name] is in desperate demand for attention. (super short)

I tiredly slam through the door of my own home. I didn’t even know the time due to how invested I was in the work I did with my friends. Powder pushed us to keep going even though we were all on the brink of falling asleep. 

I shut the door behind me, leaning on it for a moment with my eyes closed, kicking my shoes off. I look around my apartment for my boyfriend of four years. My feet shuffled underneath me, somehow keeping me going toward my shared room. I opened the cracked door, pushing in and plopping right down on the bed behind Claggor who was seemingly doing something since he wasn’t paying attention to me. 

I let out a large huff of air from my lungs, clinging onto the sheets. He doesn’t even flinch. I pout, sighing once again. I see his head go up for a moment only to go back down to whatever he was doing. I scrunch my nose. Getting upset.

“Sigh!!” I flip over dramatically, flinging myself up against my boyfriend's back.

“Sigh! I’m dying!” I cry out, closing my eyes and sticking my tongue. Pretending to be dead. 

Silence. 

“The only cure… is! Attention!” I smack his back with the palm of my hand. “If I don’t get it in t-minus five seconds it will be the end for me!” I exclaim. More than five seconds pass and I sit up angrily.

“What is more important than giving your obviously distressed girlfriend attention?” I ask, shoving his shoulder but it doesn’t even move him. “[Name], please.” He laughs.

“I’m trying to finish this list.” He pushes me with his hand on my face. I fall back onto the bed, getting right back up and leaning over his shoulder. “Are you almost done?” I quietly question. He scoffs out a laugh, shimmying his shoulder to get me off but instead I grab onto both and then wrap my legs around his waist from behind. 

“I’m just trying to make sure I’m remembering everything.” He tells me, grabbing onto my calf with his free hand, massaging it gently. “It looks good enough to me.” I kiss his back. 

“I’m sure it does.” He shakes his head at my behavior. He reads over his note and writes one last thing before putting it on his nightstand.

My legs squeeze around him and he stands up. My arms quickly went around his neck. “Ack!” He grabs my wrists, loosening them. “Where are we going?” I sluggishly posed, resting my head on the nape of his neck. 

“To get some water before bed since you always need it in the middle of the night.” He answers, his hands go to my thighs to make sure I stay up. “Awe, you know me so well.” I raspily coo. 

Claggor gets the big bottle of water and heads back to our room. He sits on the bed letting me uncurl myself from him and climb into my side of the bed. 

He reaches over me, putting the bottle on my nightstand. I watch his facial expressions as he makes sure to set it on a coaster. His tongue sticking out since he was stretching out his body then goes back to his side. 

“Alright, you have my undivided attention now, honey.” He places the blankets over us. “Good. I deserve it.” I yawn, stretching my legs. He snickers. “I want to cuddle.” I tell him, throwing my body over his, his arms instantly embracing me. “Alright.” He whispers.

“Want to tell me about your day?” He asks, his hand rubbing up and down my back. “Mm, boring. I want to listen to you talk.” I tiredly say, closing my eyes. My arms were around his neck as my right leg hooked over his torso and my left leg laid on the bed. 

“Well, I had to stop Mylo from embarrassing himself in front of Gert for the hundredth time.” He chuckles and I hum out, amused. 

“Then I just helped out Silco and Vander for the rest of the day, just waiting for my lovely girlfriend to come home.” He kisses my head a few times. “You’re obsessed with me.” I whisper. 

“I guess so.” He squeezes me and I let out a small huff. 

“I’m falling asleep.” I mumbled right as I was dozing off. 

“Love you too, hun.” I feel his body shake from him laughing at me but I was already in dreamland to say anything back.

[askagamedev]

There’s a lot of noise online about live service games being detrimental to the quality of games, such as initial launches being bug ridden and with incomplete features. Is there any truth to this last statement? And are the spending patterns reflecting the idea that people are dissatisfied with this model of monetization?

I think that it is true that initial launches are indeed more bug ridden today than they were before day 1 patches were possible, but the reason for this is much less nefarious than most are imagining. I was already working in games before that big change happened and I saw what happened from the inside.

Before we could patch, producers would cut content and features much more mercilessly because we lacked the time to finish that content properly and still pass certification. We couldn't ever modify or add stuff to the disc or cartridge, so we had to make sure that what went out was the most stable thing we could. Stability was more important than scope, so we'd see stuff get cut near the end all the time. There were a lot of features and content that players never saw because we couldn't get them polished and stable before the game had to ship. If we were lucky we managed to save some of it for expansion packs but most of it never saw the light of day. The last few weeks of the project were mostly wasted sitting around and waiting because we couldn't ever risk making any changes that weren't addressing cert-blocking bugs and we would mostly wait around to find out if cert had gone through.

Back then, the burned and duplicated disk sent to retailers was the final pencils-down-step-away moment. The gold master is what got used to duplicate all of the discs and we couldn't make a new one. Further, all of those duplicated disks out in the wild would forever hold the "final" version of the game, bugs and all. The only way a new version was possible was another print run, and that only occurred in very rare cases where the entire first print run sold out and there was enough demand to print a second run... and the publisher felt it was worth going through certification a second time.

With the advent of internet-connected game consoles and networks, we got the ability to push out post-launch patches including day 1 content updates. With the ability to patch came the potential to finish some of that nearly-complete content that we used to have to cut for stability purposes. Instead of focusing on stability, we could actually push fixes later and fit more content into our releases. This meant that we could also shift people to work on post-launch content, rather than simply sitting around and doing nothing while waiting for cert results. We could fix bugs and work on new content and features during that time and we could leverage all the expertise and experience we had earned in the years of development up to that point.

To summarize - in the olden days, we had to cut a lot more content and features that were close to being finished because we needed to go pencils-down for certification. Today, we can continue working on content that would have been cut because we can patch fixes into the game. This results in overall buggier content and features on average at launch but it also results in significantly more content and features on average at launch than before.

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[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[pandapetals]

Couple Questions

You and Logan answer some cute couple questions!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: not the usual update but I saw some couple questions on pinterest and thought you know what…im gonna do this because it’s cute. i may or may not also have headcanons for them lol.

What were your first impressions of each other?

You : grinning "I thought he was rude. He barely said hello when I first arrived at the mansion, just mumbled something and walked away like I wasn’t worth his time."

Logan : smirking "To be fair, I had a lot on my mind."

You : "But then I caught him staring at me in the library one day, and I thought, ‘Huh, maybe he’s not as grumpy as he looks.’ Turns out I was wrong—he’s grumpier.” teasingly nudges him

Logan : chuckling "You done? ‘Cause my first impression was that you talked too much."

You : mock gasp "Excuse me?!"

Logan : shrugging "But you had this fire about you. Didn’t take crap from anyone. Thought that was… different." pauses, his voice softening "And your laugh. First time I heard it, I couldn’t get it outta my head."

Describe the moment each of you knew you had feelings for each other.

You : thoughtful smile "I think it was when Jean told me Logan liked me. It just… clicked. All the banter, the little glances, the way he’d hover nearby even though he pretended not to care—it all made sense. Once I realized it, it was like… yeah, I like him too. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time."

Logan : scratching the back of his neck, pretending to look annoyed "She’s makin’ me sound soft already."

You : "You are soft."

Logan : ignoring her "For me, it was probably when I realized she wasn’t offended by my attitude. That’s when I knew she wasn’t just anyone. She was my someone."

Did either of you fight your feelings, or was it easy to accept?

You : snorting "Oh, we both fought it. He avoided me a lot of the time. I overthought everything —does he like me? What if I’m imagining it? What if I ruin our friendship?"

Logan : dryly "You do think too much. Me? I didn’t avoid you."

You : glaring playfully "You literally avoided the library for two weeks, and that’s your favorite place!"

Logan : grinning faintly "Alright, fine. Maybe I fought it a little. Was scared I’d mess things up. Didn’t think someone like you would want someone like me."

You : softly, brushing his hand "You’re an idiot for thinking that, but you’re my idiot."

When was the first time you said “I love you”? What prompted it?

You : "It was after a nightmare. Logan woke up in a cold sweat, muttering apologies for scaring me. But he hadn’t scared me—I just wanted to comfort him. And in the middle of me rambling about how it was okay, it just came out: ‘I love you.’"

Logan : quietly "Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from someone. But when she said it, I couldn’t stop myself. Told her I loved her right back."

You : smiling softly "And then you called me a ‘damn fool’ for putting up with you."

Logan : shrugging "I stand by it."

Who is the big spoon, who is the little spoon?

You : "Oh, Logan’s the big spoon, obviously. But sometimes I’ll be the big spoon when he’s had a rough day. He pretends to hate it, but I know he secretly likes it."

Logan : grumbling "I don’t need a damn cocoon, sweetheart."

You : grinning "But you still let me."

What’s your favorite quality about each other?

You : "Logan’s loyalty. He’ll protect the people he loves with everything he has, even when he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved back."

Logan : looking at her, his voice softer "Her heart. She’s got this way of makin’ everyone feel like they matter. Like they’re worth somethin’. That’s rare."

You : teasingly "Stop, you’re gonna make me cry."

Logan : smirking "Good. Payback for all the times you make me feel stuff."

Who is the messiest?

You : raising her hand immediately "Me. Absolutely me."

Logan : snorting "Finally, somethin’ we agree on."

You : "Hey, at least I know where everything is in my mess. Your ‘organized’ piles confuse me."

Logan : "It ain’t hard, darlin’. One pile’s for weapons, the other’s for books. What’s so confusin’?"

Who sings in the shower?

You : grinning mischievously "Logan does. And he doesn’t even realize it half the time. It’s adorable."

Logan : deadpan "I don’t sing in the shower."

You : "Oh, so the other day when I walked by and heard you mumbling ‘Sweet Caroline’ under your breath, that wasn’t you?"

Logan : grumbling "I was hummin’ it. There’s a difference."

You : sarcastically "Sure, tough guy. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Who likes horror movies? Who likes romance movies?

You : grinning "Logan likes horror movies, obviously. He’ll sit there, all serious, like nothing phases him. But I swear I caught him flinch once during The Exorcist ."

Logan : gruffly "Did not."

You : "You did. Anyway, I like romance movies. Logan pretends to hate them, but he always ends up watching them with me."

Logan : smirking "That’s ‘cause I know you’ll cry, and I gotta be ready to hand you tissues."

You : rolling her eyes "And yet, who was tearing up during The Notebook last week? Hmm?"

Logan : groaning "Alright, fine. I might like some of ‘em. But don’t go tellin’ anyone."

You : "Oh, your secret’s safe with me. But I’ll totally remind you next time we watch Pride and Prejudice ."

Logan : grinning, pulling her closer "You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart."

What’s your favorite memory of us?

You:thoughtfully smiling “That’s hard to pick. But… I think it was when you planned that romantic getaway for my birthday—you bought me that dress. Or when you wrote that for me poem and gave it to me for Christmas.”

Logan:grinning faintly “You mean the one where you cried ‘cause I wrote you that little poem in the book?”

You:mock gasping “You wrote me a poem , Logan. Of course, I cried! I still have that dress, by the way.”

Logan:chuckling, his voice softer now “That was a good one. But for me? I think it’s our wedding. Just you, me, and those vows I wrote on a scrap of paper. You called me an idiot for cryin’ halfway through.”

You:sniffing dramatically “And I’ll call you an idiot for it again, but only because you cried first. You set me off.”

Logan:smirking “You weren’t even gonna cry ‘til I pulled out that damn lucky pen you gave me.”

You:“Well, yeah, it’s our lucky pen, Logan! What did you expect?”

Hugs or kisses?

You:grinning slyly “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Logan:raising an eyebrow “Really? I’d say hugs.”

You:blinking in mock surprise “Logan Howlett likes hugs? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Logan:shrugging, smirking a little “What can I say? There’s somethin’ about you wrappin’ yourself around me that just feels right.”

You:melting a little before recovering quickly “Okay, you win that one. But kisses still come with extra perks.”

Logan:grinning wickedly “Oh, I know.”

Who finds it harder to admit they’re wrong?

You:“Oh, Logan. 100% Logan.”

Logan:gruffly “What? That’s not true.”

You:glaring playfully “Logan, you once argued with me for three hours about the best way to cook eggs—only to realize you were wrong and never admit it.”

Logan:grumbling “That’s ‘cause your way still doesn’t make sense.”

You:crossing her arms “Oh, it makes perfect sense, tough guy. You’re just stubborn.”

Logan:grinning faintly “Alright, fine. Maybe I don’t like bein’ wrong.”

You:“Maybe?!”

Who’s the boss in the marriage?

You:smirking, pointing to herself “Obviously me.”

Logan:laughing softly “Yeah, you think so, huh?���

You:“Logan, who does the meal planning? The laundry schedules? Who makes sure you actually remember birthdays and anniversaries?”

Logan:grinning “Alright, you. But who fixes stuff when it breaks? Who makes sure no one bothers you when you’re havin’ a bad day? Who makes the coffee in the mornin’ exactly how you like it?”

You:softening, smiling sweetly “Alright, fine. We’re both the boss in different ways. But let’s be honest—when it comes to arguments, you fold first.”

Logan:mock scowling “Only ‘cause you give me those damn eyes. Ain’t fair.”

Who has the best jokes?

You:grinning smugly “Me. Hands down.”

Logan:snorting “Yeah, okay. But only ‘cause your jokes are so bad, they’re funny.”

You:“Excuse me?!”

Logan:grinning “Sweetheart, half your jokes are puns. Don’t get me wrong, I love seein’ you crack yourself up, but best jokes? Nah.”

You:frowning in mock offense “Fine, then let’s hear one of your so-called ‘good’ jokes.”

Logan:deadpan “Why’d the history book break up with the science book? No chemistry.”

You:blinking, then laughing despite herself “Okay, that was actually pretty good. Damn it.”

Who is grumpier?

You:“Oh, Logan. No contest.”

Logan:shrugging, unbothered “Yeah, probably.”

You:giggling “You’re basically a walking thundercloud until you’ve had your coffee. And even then, you’ve got about an hour before you start growling at people.”

Logan:smirking “That’s true, but you’re no ray of sunshine when you’re hungry.”

Who gets angry when they’re hungry?

You:immediately “Okay, fine. That’s me. But in my defense, you always know when to feed me before I get too hangry.”

Logan:chuckling “Damn right I do. Learned that the hard way on one of our first dates.”

You:giggling “Oh, you mean the time you forgot to feed me after making me hike five miles, and I almost bit your head off?”

Logan:grinning “Yup. You didn’t even wait for the food to hit the table before tearin’ into me. Thought I was gonna lose a hand.”

You:grinning sheepishly “Hey, at least you didn’t run for the hills.”

Logan:softly, leaning closer “Nah, sweetheart. I’d take your hangry self over anyone else any day.”

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 8

When John opens his eyes it is to a ceiling. That is his first indicator that something had truly changed.

He remembered bits of his last few weeks. His men had found him and pulled him from a gulag, an outdoor prison in northern Siberia. He had lost a lot of weight to simply keep warm enough to move breath. Turning his head with aching slowness he found the other side of your bed rumpled and still releasing heat.

“I’ve got him. I’m sorry I didn’t see your calls last night. John was at the door knocking and once I got him settled I couldn’t spare a thought for my phone.” Your voice shifts as if you are pacing in the hall. “Can you bring by some clothes and his toiletries?”

John rolls enough to rest his head where your smell remains the strongest, listening to you and his muppets plan on how to care for him while he heals. John knew he would need time to heal from this.

“When you get here can you stay long enough to help me get him washed up? I know he will feel more human with a little care.” A pause as you listen to whoever is on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I will ask him. See you soon.”

He would smile if his cheeks could contract with his face on the mattress. John had decided in Siberia that if you would have him he would marry you the moment he could stand for longer than ten minutes without needing a rest. You had mumbled to him in your sleep when your eyes could no longer stay open last night. Resting on your chest he felt the most tethered to his body and this planet he had since he had been taken.

The door opens on silent hinges. You find him instantly with his face pressed into the mattress. He hears you moving but doesn’t shift yet, waiting to see how you would react. Two fingers touched his pinky. As that had not been what he expected John pushed up with one arm to look at you.

Kneeling by the bed, chin resting on the edge you watched him.

When he caught your gaze you smiled at him so gently he felt a knot of emotion loosen ever so slightly in his chest.

“Hi, John. Can you stand?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded damaged even to his ears.

“Alright, let’s go brush your teeth then and get you some breakfast. One of your guys will be coming over soon with clothes and to help you in the shower. I have just two questions for you about all of this okay?”

John braces for a question that will turn over pain, memories wriggling like worms in the warmer soil of home.

“First question, do you want eggs, bacon, and toast or oatmeal for breakfast?”

He blinked at you. The words should have all made sense in that order but they didn’t. You wanted to know what he wanted to eat?

“Oatmeal,” he creaked.

“Wonderful, I have fresh fruit and jams and syrups. Now second question.”

He braced again.

“Your Lieutenants would like to know how you got off base. Can you tell me?” You look at him with such concern, as if you were worried he did something that might hurt him further.

The broken laugh hurt his throat. It caused his chest to ache with unshed tears as well. You rubbed a hand over his wild hair as his laughs morphed into tears. When he had cried himself out, a wet spot on your bed and your eyes glistening as well he told you.

“I got to my desk, pulled out my emergency cash, and walked out.”

“You just walked out?” The incredulous look you give him warms him. Even frostbitten and thin you stare at him as if he could hang the stars for you.

“Yeah, waved by to the guards as I passed and waited for my cab.”

You stood on your knees pressing your forehead to his.

“I’m so glad you made it back to me,” you whispered, a single tear falling to his wet spot on the sheets.

“I fought,” he whispered back.

“And you made it. Now I won’t kiss you until you have clean teeth.” You send him a big, bright smile. “Up you pop. If you’re stable on your feet I will leave you in the bathroom and get our oatmeal started.”

To his chagrin, John was stable on his feet. He didn’t trust himself to not actually fall over if he faked it so he let you lead him to the closed lid of the toilet seat, hand him a new toothbrush, and slid from his view. The comforting sounds from the kitchen slid through the space. With his mouth clean he did feel more human like you said he would. Keeping a hand on a wall John made his way into your eat-in kitchen, the bright space warmed him from the inside out with bright colors and thriving plants on the counter.

The instant you heard him you turned and pulled him into your arms. You feel like home. He holds you until the oatmeal begins to bubble. Twisting in his arms you turn off the stove and try to move to get some bowls.

“John. You need a shower, one of your guys will be here soon to help you wash. You are already shaking. Go and sit down.”

He takes the command, getting a small thrill of you telling him what to do. You serve him up as much as he will eat and by the time Roach arrives, John is falling asleep at the table. He gives John a gentle hand and helps him in and out of the tub leaving John feeling cleaner than even the time his grandmother had washed him and stripped a layer of skin from him. Roach settles him into bed with only a pair of boxers, John’s preference of sleeping wear when given the chance and John is asleep before he is fully covered with the blankets.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

That’s how your relationship officially starts with John you think, with him sinking into your bed in the middle of the night after escaping unspeakable horrors. He recovers day by day. His men visit and often spend the night on the couch. They loved him and wanted to see for themselves that he had put on weight and started smiling again.

The day he went back to work again he came home early to take you on a proper date. He wore his Christmas suit and you wore your New Year’s dress. John told you he had informed all of his muppets to stay away tonight, and that he would shoot anyone who tried to crash your date.

You weren’t worried. You were almost positive that he wouldn’t shoot to kill. But you had also gone ahead and texted the guys that if any of them appeared at your flat tonight then you would personally take in all of their pants a centimeter at a time until they busted through seams like the Kool-Aid man through a wall. They had all gotten the message.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[miaoua3]

(pairing: dino x f!reader)

based on that one video of vernon trying the food that dino made and immediately thinking it’s bad when vernon said that it’s chewy oh my baby how i love you

“babe? could you come here for a second?”, chan lets out from the kitchen, his voice sounding unsure and hesitant.

sensing that this is more than just a favour you could do for him, you get up and walk to where he’s standing in front of a stove.

looking at him expectedly, you smile “yes? what is it, love?”.

fidgeting with the spoon for a moment, he then takes a bit of a food from the pot, before he blows on it to cool it down. slowly bringing it to your mouth, he questions “could you try this and tell me how it tastes? i’m not sure if it’s all that up to your tastes.”

you just take ahold of his wrist before bringing the spoon in your mouth, choosing not to respond to his question and instead just do it.

you chew on it for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, trying to identify everything that he put in it.

hm, maybe a bit more salt would be good you think to yourself.

before you even have the time to open your mouth to sound your thoughts out loud, he interrupts you.

“i knew it, it tastes bad right? i’ll just throw it out a-and we can just order something-“.

sensing that he’s spiralling quickly, you immediately bring your hands to his cheeks and turn his head to yourself.

“hey, hey, hey, baby no, that’s not what i was going to say. i just thought that it could use a bit more salt but otherwise everything is fine, it tastes super yummy.”

chan just looks down to his feet that are fidgeting lightly. you look him with eyes full of pain before you move closer, leaning your forehead against his own so his eyes are forced to look at your own again.

“channie, my love, what is this about really? you know you don’t need to stress this much over some food. plus, you know that i would eat anything you’d make for me, because everything you make tastes divine.”

chan’s hands come to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, insecurity very visible on his face. you rub your thumbs against his soft cheeks as you wait for him to answer you.

after a minute, he finally quietly says “i know i’m not the best cook, so i just wanted to make you something as a way to improve my cooking skills, so you wouldn’t have to do it all the time, like you are doing at the moment…and what kind of boyfriend am i when i can’t even make anything that you like?…”.

your eyebrows furrow on their own as he continues to speak, heart breaking at how broken and sad his voice sounds.

deciding that you have heard enough, you bring his big and buff body down to your height, hugging him tightly as a way to reassure him.

you sigh before you start speaking against his ear “oh my love, you have to stop being so hard on yourself, baby. you know you are the best boyfriend there is, especially for me. you do so much for me, that i actually feel like i’m not doing enough for you. you are always there for me, you take care of me both emotionally and physically. i haven’t paid for anything ever since our third date, and you know how that makes me feel. the cooking…it’s the only thing i know i can do to repay you for being my perfect other half and for everything that you do. so it’s really not a problem for me.”, you pause so you can being his face in front of your own again. “you need to start believing me when i say that nobody could take care of me the way that you do, nor that i want them to…you are my soulmate, sweetheart, okay?”, you finish.

chan has to blink his tears away as he nods his head quickly before he hugs you tightly, hiding his face in your hair.

rubbing his back in comfort, you add “plus you shouldn’t be cooking according to my tastes, you know i like my food so salty, it gives me kidney stones.”, as a way to lighten up the mood.

and as he chuckles, you know that you’ve succeeded in doing it.

then again, if that hadn’t work, you would’ve tried another 200 different jokes, just to make him smile again.

because channie should only be smiling and be happy. because it’s what he deserves.

[sombredancer]

Li Lun, a villain I feel for (Pt. 2/4)

So, by the beginning of the drama LL says that he wants to kill all of ZYZ’s new friends. In fact, he just likes talking. He says: “Let’s kill ZYZ’s friends starting with Baize Goddess, like the previous time” so the viewer thinks he killed previous goddess off, but later we learn that he didn't do it. Even if he has a perfect opportunity to kill someone of ZYZ’s new friends without ruining his own schemings, he does pretty nothing to achieve it. He just stands and talks. Because he doesn’t really want to kill anyone, including ZYZ. He wants to attract ZYZ’s attention and to make ZYZ stop ghosting him.

Li Lun speaks to Big Bad in Mask while possessing a courtesan. Meanwhile, he lends Truth Eye to Ao Ying so she could see his true self.

LL joins hands with Big Bad in Mask, not knowing he was the one who tortured demons in that bloody dungeon (yeah, LL is not the smartest guy of the Universe). By doing it he tries to achieve his own goals. First, he wants to break free from his custody, and second, he wants to get attention from ZYZ, who ignores him.

In order to break his chains LL works as matchmaker for ZYZ and his girlfriend, so they could fall in love with each other and find and unite pieces of Baize token, because only if the token is intact, it can be broken and its spells can be dissipated. He is not a saint, so he kills some folks (by possessing them or just because) and tricks other demons into helping him, although he is said to value his own kind more than anything. It means he goes through break-up with ZYZ so badly, that even his principles fade into the background for his anger and pain. Or it’s just another script flaw.

Li Lun behaves himself very much as a ghosted ex-boyfriend (in fact, he is), and I understand him well. He goes through stages of acceptance: throws himself from denial (ZYZ is no better than me, why don't you treat him the way he treated me?) through anger (ZYZ, I’ll kill your friends and make you suffer!) to bargaining (Why does he find you better than me? What if you would be like me, would he still love you?).

To talk about his feelings with someone, he uses the only way to leave his dark lifeless place of imprisonment, which is possessing others. At first, this ability and an omnipotence of it looks intimidating, but later we learn that he cuts his lifespan by a half each time he does it, so his need to talk to someone is very desperate. (Later, LL says that it was his way to enjoy the world and freedom but GJM never showed us such a use of this LL's ability). ZYZ knows that destroying LL’s leaves (through which he possesses bodies) will hurt Li Lun, yet he does it anyway, and LL kinda... enjoys it bitterly. As if the fact of him being not ignored by ZYZ is more important that his wellbeing. It's miserable and pathetic, but understandable.

And anytime LL tries to get some answers for his questions, ZYZ and his friends say something like “You don’t understand a thing, I won’t bother to explain, though.” or “We have friends and ZYZ is our boyfriend, and you are a lonely loser!”. How it supposes to help LL understand his wrongs? I have no idea.

Ghosting your ex is the sure way to make him a villain.

LL breaks free from his jail and destroys a “support beam” of the “wall” around demon ghetto. An accent on “I’m destroying the wall” is strange, because I can’t understand the gain demons will have when they aren't in their ghetto anymore (and it obviously should be). Would Great Demons even the scores of victims if not only humans would catch and torture demons but demons would also catch and torture humans, or what? However, it sounds pretty fair, as long as said Baize Goddess’ and ZYZ’s protection of demons consist in only preventing them from going outside their ghetto without passport, LOL.

Although LL is free from the seal, he is still dying from the fatal wound causing by ZYZ 8 years ago. His true body is smoldering slowly, so he has got not so much time left.

For plot purposes, the main heroes need to visit LL’s birthplace to get the last cup of magic water to fix Baize token and to restore a “support beam” of ghetto’s wall. What would a normal villain do, knowing about it? Yes, he would spill it. What does LL do? He, in fact, hands it over to the main heroes. Yes, stained, but LL was a student of Mountain God, too, so he could know that there is a way to restore the pureness of magic water, and the best way to destroy the token for good is to spill this water.

During their visit LL kidnaps ZYZ’s girlfriend (it is funny that the main heroes don’t notice it for something like first five minutes 😅) and has a phycologist session with her (in which she is a psychologist). They have a superstrange conversation, something like: LL: “ZYZ supposed to be my friend but ghosted me for no obvious for me reason and I’m hurt!”. WX: “Oh, it’s because you are a loser with no friends, ZYZ did everything right!”.

Then ZYZ and his current boyfriend come and LL tries once more to tell ZYZ that he is hurt, but ZYZ has absolutely no desire to talk to him or to explain to him something and acts like they were never boyfriends and LL is his archenemy.

So, they fight and ZYZ hurts LL with Everburning Wood once more, now deliberately. LL dies, and although ZYZ has red eyes at this moment he never thinks of LL again. So, LL is right: ZYZ is a hypocrite with double standards. It is such a contrast with the stories of the main heroes and ancient dragon gods, in which killing your friend for Higher Goals is a tragedy.

But there is a plot twist ahead!

Here is Part 1 Here is Part 3 Here is Part 4

[rushingheadlong]

(Left: Photo from an ebay listing from Magnifico Vintage Magazines; Right: Photo from a PDF scan from worldradiohistory.com)

I stumbled across this article (from Record Mirror magazine, 30 March 1974) and wanted to share it because it’s a fascinating follow-up to this article I’ve previously shared from Melody Maker which was printed a week prior. 

The Melody Maker article looked at the role of big business in the music industry, specifically by using Queen and another band Merlin as examples of “hyped” groups i.e. artificially manufactured to generate maximum interest. While this may be somewhat accurate for Merlin, it’s not true for Queen at all - and as the Record Mirror article above shows, they were not happy about this comparison.

(Left: From Record Mirror magazine; Right: The photo in question from Melody Maker)

Lead guitarist Brian May picked up the paper and waves it under my nose. "This article is the biggest load of rubbish I've ever read in my life", he declares vindictively. "Look, there are people going to read this article - some of them won't have heard of Merlin and some of them won't know us. The headline screams out commercial pop. They've printed a very old picture of us, which we hate, looking extremely poppy and underneath it is the word HYPE. The whole article says in a suggestive way that Queen are a hype."

So Brian is certainly not happy with the Melody Maker article - or at least he doesn't like the photo they chose! I suppose he would've preferred something from the Queen II shoots instead, though it is rather funny for him to call a photo taken only a year prior a "very old picture of us".

But alright, surely the rest are concerned with things other than how they look...

(Left: Roger quoted in Record Mirror; Right: Freddie quoted in Record Mirror)

"Freddie and I used to sell old clothes. In fact Freddie used to design and MAKE our stage costumes. We've always taken care to make sure that our clothes are just right and look good. Perhaps they'd prefer it if we went on in dirty jeans, but we don't really think the public want to look at that. I think they'd rather see something that looks good." ... "Oh, really," [Freddie] exclaims in disgust, "this paper has no flair - I mean to print this picture three times in succession... and just look at my arms!" He was horrified, "look how fat they appear, now my arms aren't like that at all - what do you think?" He rolls up his sleeves for me to inspection and I'd like to state here and now that the poor dear's arms are quite, quite slender!

...okay, that's on me, I should've realized that the two fashionistas in Queen would have thoughts about their appearances and such. Or at the very least I should've expected Roger to bring up the Kensington Market stall! Poor self-conscious Freddie, but at least it seems like the interviewer reassured him about his arms!

Enough about clothes and photos though, I wonder what else the opinionated Roger Taylor had to say about the Melody Maker article?

(Above: Roger quoted in Record Mirror)

"That's exactly how we think it is," joined in their drummer Roger Taylor. "Supported by the fact that they've compared us to a totally new band who we've never heard of. We don't want to say anything against them, but apparently they're just a straight pop band. Whereas we've been playing and working up to this for years. Christ, I'm 24, Brian's 25, Freddie is 27, John's a bit younger 23. Plus the fact that we're all intelligent enough not to want to be put across in that way. We want to put our music first."

Honestly, Roger makes a really good point here. When the Melody Maker article was printed, Merlin had only been together in their current form for less than a year and had only released one single. Their first (and only) album wouldn't be released for over 6 months, and unfortunately they would be disbanded by this time the following year.

That being said, the emphasis on their ages is very funny to me because while Merlin might be a young band, the individual members weren't exactly far off from Queen's own ages and experience.

Their lead singer, Allan Love, was born in 1946 just like Freddie and had already been in the music business for seven years. The youngest member of the group was guitarist Jamie Moses, who was only 19 at the time, but even he had been performing semi-professionally for six years. In fact, all the members of Merlin had some degree of previous experience in other bands and the rest of them were right around 23-24 themselves, the same ages as Roger and John!

But speaking of John, what does he have to say about all this?

(Above: From Record Mirror)

By this time John Deacon (who reminded me of the Alice's doormouse) had woken from his slumbers (too many late nights and early mornings), he was reasonably cheerful for someone who had had his clothes ripped off the day before. "By the law of averages," he was saying, "it's someone else's turn to be ripped off today."

That's a lovely tidbit of wisdom at the end there, John, but what on earth is that about your clothes being ripped off?? Unfortunately there's zero elaboration on this in the article, so I guess it's just left to us to imagine.

So, any final opinions from the boys?

Above: From Record Mirror magazine

Phew! If after all that you think that the lads are hypersensitive to criticism and feel animosity towards their critics, then let Roger put you straight. "No, we don't hold grudges - we just go round and wrench people's arms and legs off. Or send them bags of wet cement, nothing too violent!"

Amazing response, perfectly executed by the one who would later refute a Rolling Stone article about Queen by writing them a letter on an airline sick bag.

Never change, Rog. Never change.

[hello-sweetheart]

Fame and Fortune

Do you dream of glory? Crowds of thousands all adoring beneath you. The roaring cheers echoing in the arena. Countless of small white lights held up like beacons creating a sea of waving stars all for you. Breathless exhilaration has your chest heaving, skin glistening and damn. To feel like a god: never ending, eternal.

What would you be willing to do to get it?

What are you willing to sacrifice for fame?

Who are you prepared to lose?

Could the love of millions be worth the love of one?

——

[Backstage: Corroded Coffin Global Tour-Los Angeles, Ca]

Eddie is pacing, more than just pre-show nerves numb his hands. His cigarette burns quickly, ash falling on the carpeted floor, but no amount of nicotine filled lungs will fix this. Gareth, his drummer and long time friend, is watching him pace, eyes pleading.

“Is it worth it, Eddie?

We all got what we wanted; why are we miserable? You can’t lie to me, we all feel it. I see it in everyone, even you! You haven’t been the same since—“ He receives a withering glare from the frontman and sighs, speaking softer.

“I miss mom and my little sister. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them… I’m no longer drawn in her crayon family portraits, did you know that? Does Anne even remember me, anymore?

How can you keep going like this and expect us to do the same? I’m grateful—I really am—for you. You got us where we are now, a fantasy that we never even dreamed would become reality. It was amazing, I’m glad I got to experience it all with you, but I’m tired. I’m so tired guys.

I just want to go home.”

The long drag he takes burns his throat,

“Look, we’re all tired, I get it. Really, I do, this tour has been… particularly grueling I’ll admit, but come on. This is our last show, the big finale! We’ll give them all we got and then we’ll be able to take a break to freshen up before doing what we do best: creating kick ass music.

Like always. You’ll feel better after this, we always do after the last show—“

Gareth cuts him off, his patience clearly stretched thin.

“No, Eddie, listen to me! It’s different this time. I’m happy with the money we’ve made, we all have enough to live comfortably and I’ve been thinking that, you know, it’s time to settle down. I can’t do that if I’m always working. This, the band, it doesn’t… it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

Jeff stands and his imposing figure makes Eddie pause from wearing a path into the floor.

“He’s not the only one, man. Im sorry, but its killing me. We don’t expect you to give it up either, you can keep the band name, find new members, keep signing… But for us? We can’t keep going, man. This is the end of the line.”

‘Not him too. Fuck. Fuck!’

“No! What am I—I’ve given up too much for this, you can’t just, fucking, bail on me!” This band, playing with his friends, it’s become his entire world. He’s lost too much to get here.

“Woah, woah, hey! No one fucking told you to and you know it. We’ve always had your back no matter what, but anything you chose to do is on you. Not us. The least you could do is extend us the same fucking curtesy and respect the fact that we’re fucking done with this bullshit.”

His gaze is venom as he looks at band, Grant and ‘Freak’ silent but agreeing with the rest. They refuse to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turns and leaves. They’ll be starting in 15 minutes.

Fucking cowards. Ungrateful bastards.

A memory plays in his head. Brief and intrusive. The voice of someone long gone from his life rings in his mind.

“I’ve missed you, Ed. Are you done at the studio, yet? When are you coming home?”

“Steve, this is important. You know this. I’ll be pulling a few more all nighters here—this album has to be perfect, baby.”

A crackling sigh is barely audible through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry. Miss waking up to you next to me.”

“Miss you too, baby. You’re my world you know. Love you more than anything.”

“More than music?” It’s a timid question.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he’s the only one to laugh into the receiver.

“Right… night, Eddie.”

“Wait, Stev—“ fuck. It was only joke. Whatever, he’ll apologize tomorrow.

Right now, he has music history in the making.

[joffyworld]

Šamaš I -

The Shunned Sun's Son

Nobody remembers...

One...

I remember the sun;

How it burned my retina and touched my skin.

I remember the sand and the desert's strewn hues,

How it stretched so far I could never imagine it's end.

I remember the clacking of the horses hooves;

How they whinnie'd and neigh'd as they trotted afar.

I remember well the hot, harsh sun;

How it sunk it's rays, seeped deep into purple flesh.

I remember the tears;

How the years of servitude and solemn silences had been repaid in kind.

I remember the fall;

How I trod for miles and days, in any which way I could conceive to heave my wounded soul.

I remember the offer;

How they extended their hand and told me of their plans to redeem that which we had both just had stolen.

I remember the son...

Two...

There was nothing to lose by the time I had met him.

No course of action set but to survive without question.

Those were the dark days:

Before we had found our ways, struck down the clouds and figured it all out; How we would arise from these trials and tribulations.

That is to say;

We weren't yet homeward bound into those higher graces. We hadn't yet found our way out of the cave system that we resided in;

Depression.

Yet that is also to say we hadn't yet lost hope. Hadn't found ourselves falling from the ends of our rope. We clung tightly to the middle, ever so tightly to that middle that had the rope ever frayed we might've let ourselves choke.

Depression's a bitch but so were we.

We made our days carefree and aimless. Because who is more dangerous than the nameless and faceless? We moved through the shadows, yes we clung to those shadows, they embraced us when the world didn't. It was all we could know.

I remember the cub...

Three...

He'd never had to run.

There was a fire in his eyes, I remember it well. You could immediately tell there was a chance to excel. You could immediately see, no matter who he'd want to be, he would achieve it without question, time wasn't needed to tell.

He'd never want to run.

The fire in his eyes belied the fire in his heart. The fire was in there it just needed a spark. The spark that was needed was the guidance of our teaching, could we do what was necessary? Was it even enough?

He'd never be able to run.

Fire burns hot, this we know well. Those that burn the brightest burn the fastest, this we could all tell. The fire needed to be tempered, it had to be made embers and if we left it too long it might have burned us as well.

In a way he did run.

He retreated into those books we had banned, but he was fast as a gun. Every book we confiscated was another library raided, had we taken from him the chance to learn and have fun?

Of course we had. That was the plan wasn't it? To take from him the powers of our collective knowledges? To shake and stutter his incorrigible courage? To destroy the foundations of the most powerful puppet? To take from the child, to break this poor child. We thought we were helping, it was all proven wrong.

I remember the spawn...

Four...

They say there is strength in nobility:

A chance to make right your wrongs and face your true enemies, a choice to be made about who you really ought to be. Yet that choice is no choice if it's formed by your destiny. We rail against it as if destiny can be history, then fail to mention that we follow it anyway blissfully -

Unaware.

That's what we were, maybe still are. We thought we had our work cut out for us, that naught was FUBAR. That we could recover and find our place amongst these stars; that form our galaxy, though tragically we forgot to search far.

Then destiny blessed us again.

I remember looking down at the small child that stood there. Dirtied clothes, big eyes and no traces of hair. Built wide, like her smile, nary a sound in the air. Not tall, but built short without a singular flair.

Destiny was a strange patron.

It had given us a family we could never have dreamed of. It gave us small hopes and small comforts that we could never conceive of. It took and then gave and then took again without recourse. But when all seemed hopeless again, it came back with kind re-gards.

Years passed and none changed. Months flew by and yet we all stayed the same. Number four grew stronger, number three grew bolder, number two grew shoulders for them to cry on and complain.

I remember the hatchling...

Five...

He was perhaps the most interesting.

Certainly the most challenging.

We kept things simple,

We tried to keep it all slow.

But there was no stopping him.

Every day was another spent running at the gym.

Every activity a festivity, never a solemn slow hymn.

There was no sort of pace,

That we could ever control.

He completed us as a family,

He reformed our lost souls,

Gave us back what was taken,

So many decades ago -

Humanity.

But fate is a cruel mistress still,

And you reap what you sow;

Tragedy....

"I have received a prophecy...

...I am sorry little ones,"

"We Have No Choice"

[ickytreats]

One order of perv little sister? 🎂 I tried to make this both for cunnie and girl cock

Perv little sister that loves to watch her big sister change. She's just so pretty! Always sneaking into her room just to cuddle up to her. Grope her with the excuse that she just wishes she could look as pretty as her big sis.

Finds her sister's toys and uses them on herself. Sits outside sister's door at night listening to her play with herself with the same toy. Has secretly filmed her sister multiple times and gets off to them.

Eventually little sister “accidentally” walks in on Big Sis playing with herself. Plays dumb questions about what she is doing. Climbs behind her as Big Sis tells her no and panics. Grabs a vibrator and presses it onto Big Sis causing her to let our a squeal and melt into Lil Sis. Enjoys the pleasure before snapping back at how wrong and icky it is that Lil Sis can't do that to Big Sis.

Little Sis just giggles and “hugs” her from behind. Really is just holding her down as she presses the vibrator onto her again. Watches as Big Sister squirms and tries to hold back her moans. Raises the setting and grabs another toy fucking Big Sister with it.

Big Sister tries to tell her no, tries to squirm away but fails. Cumming to her Little sister playing with her. Making the biggest icky mess she has ever made as Little sister giggles putting the toys down. Running her hand on big sis parts licking up her cum.

[shaylogic]

Joshua Colley on Monty: Adventures & Mysteries, Friendships, Joys & Fears, Thoughts on Niko, Crystal, and Jenny, and Facing the DBDA World Unburdened by Homophobia

[Transcription of my linked Joshua Colley Cameo]

Hello, Shay! It is me, Josh. Um, thank you so much for getting this Cameo. Thank you so much for supporting me. You said, "Hello <3" Hi! "What are some more mysteries and adventures you would've liked to see Monty go on with the detective agency friends? Which members would he get closer to over time?" Oh my gosh! Well, I think him and Niko would've been *crosses finger in the "tight" gesture* locked in. And I also think him and Charles probably would've been locked in. I know he was kind of--Monty was kind of a hater at the beginning. Um, but towards the end he--he turned it around. So I think they--they would definitely get along. Um, and I don't know, I think I would love to see--in my mind, in, like, another season, or y'know, like, Monty would be like, slowly--he would get turned back into a human, but then he would be slowly turning back into a crow until--like his end transformation would be like, him in human form but he had wings. So I think uncovering that kind of mystery could have been really fun. Um, and just more--just more adventures. I mean, those mysteries were so fun in season one. So, um, that's what I would've loved to explore, but we're just going to have to use our imaginations. Um, you said, "What were his thoughts on Niko, Crystal, and Jenny? Did the butcher shop creep him out after Esther's kitchen and blood magic?" Um, probably. *nods* I think he--I think he loves Niko. Um, I think he was just, like, vibing with Crystal. I think he was scared of Jenny, for sure. Um, but love all of the actors that played those parts. We had a grand old time. Um, "What are some of Monty's biggest joys and fears?" I think his biggest joys are probably just, I think he really liked the romance of it all. And like, just getting to explore his new human body was probably really fun. And his fears were probably his mom. *laughs* I would have to say his mother--and his heartbreak. Um, "It occurs to me that Edwin's life was heavily affected by homophobic society, but Monty was pretty isolated from other people and queer history/culture. How might he have adapted to going out into the dating world on his own?" Ooh, I don't know. I think--you know, in the world of "Dead Boy Detectives"--um, I kind of like the way. . . it wasn't that big a deal that Monty was a queer character. Um, I like the--how natural it felt, and how--um, yeah, I don't know, I just really loved that. And I think, um, I know that's really a big part of Edwin's. . . um, y'know, arc. And so I think it was nice for Monty to be kind of just confident and um, naive, in a way, to that. . . side of--of things, you know what I mean? And I think that's what made him so wonderful and. . .um, sweet. And lovable. I love Monty, and I'm so happy that you loved him, too. "Thanks so much for your work, and your answering these questions." Oh my gosh. Of course, anytime, Shay. Thank you so much for watching "Dead Boy Detectives". Thank you for supporting me again. Um, it seriously means the world. I hope I get to meet you one day, um, and answer more questions, and give you a big hug. But, until then, *gestures between his face and the phone* we're just gonna' have to do it through the screen. Um, but yes, thank you for all the love, um, and, I'll see you soon! *aggressively peck-kisses the phone camera* Bye! *sing-song cutie voice*

Loved this so much! And I still do love Monty <3

Joshua Colley is still on Cameo if you'd like to support him.

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 1 of ?

Weee okay I've shirked the responsibility of my big girl job this afternoon to work on something that is kind of a mix of a few ideas that lovely readers suggested. There's a few different ways this could go in my head, so I've got some planning to do (suggestions always welcome...)

There will be more than just Geta in this one, so please, if General Acacius and/or Lucius Verus are your faves, STAY IN LINE.

Warning: None so far...?

Disclaimer: ONCE AGAIN-- I am merely a dreamy, horny bitch-- this is not historically accurate besides what google could tell me in the first couple results. I am here for a juicy, slow burning time, not a historically accurate time.

The cart rattled and swayed down the steep road leading into Rome. It carried 10 prisoners, including Aia, from all across the northern part of the empire. It had been a journey full of sickness and hunger, she had lost count of how long they had been traveling-- a month? 2 months?

She could feel the pit in her stomach grow as the view of the Colosseum, once far off in the distance, was getting closer. What would become of her? Aia tried to imagine each fate that could await her and every one she imagined was worse than the last. 

"oh look at this one!" a dirty Roman man clung to the cart and touched her hair.

She tried to hit him but he jumped down quickly upon seeing her fist pull back. Was this to be her life now? Fending for herself at every turn? She fought back tears for the thousandth time since she had been captured. Rome would never see her cry. 

As they approached the city proper, carts of the caravan fell away, until it was only the prisoner carts left. They had made their way to what she assumed was the slave market. Romans dressed in elaborate togas roamed the market place, inspecting slaves like they were pieces of fruit-- it made Aia sick. 

"Alright! Everyone out!" it was the grating voice of her captor, Titus. 

Aia was herded out into the market and made to stand in a line with others that had made the journey with her. Titus grabbed Aia's arm and dragged her through the maze of stalls to a grand tent that stood on the outskirts of the market.

Titus lifted the tent flap and pushed her in.

A man sat back on a divan, nursing a goblet of wine, "Titus! What have you got for me today?" the man stood up and greeted him.

 " Well, Faunus-- this is Albina, a very pretty thing we picked up in Gaul. She was trying to sabotage food stores at a legion outpost up there. She's a feisty one, put up a good fight before we could subdue her. She's quiet though, you won't get much backtalk from her."

It was true, Aia hadn't spoken a word to Titus or anyone else in the caravan for that matter, since she was captured. 

"Albina! Will I see her beauty and radiance when she's... clean?" Faunus asked, surveying her with an air of disgust. 

Titus laughed, " once she's clean, you'll see why I brought her to you!"

Aia's stomach dropped, what was she destined for in Faunus's grip? Why would she need to be beautiful?

 'Well Titus, you have never let me down yet with the women you bring to me-- do we have ourselves a deal? At our usual rate?"

Faunus and Titus shook hands and roared with laughter, like old friends. What had happened to the other women Titus brought to Faunus? Aia was taken to a thermae and ordered to clean herself up, with the help of an attendant and under the watchful eye of Faunus's henchman. In spite of her worries, she allowed herself to enjoy the hot water, the beautiful smelling soaps and oils that the attendant washed and coated her in. However, it was never lost on her the fact of her situation: she was being prepared for someone.

The question was, for whom?

A painful ache of memory found it's way into Aia's mind-- this preparation-- it reminded her of her wedding night. She pushed the memory of that night, and her beloved husband, Dago, out of her mind.

   As the sun set over Rome, Aia was further prepared by one of Faunus's slaves.

She was a kind looking older woman, who smiled sadly at her. She dressed Aia in a beautiful stola and brushed her hair back into a sweeping style. "

Do you know where I'm going?" Aia whispered to the woman, desperate for any hint of what awaited her.  

The woman answered barely above a whisper, "the palace"

"Please do you know anything more of what awaits me?" Aia pleaded.

"Emperor Geta..." the woman whispered singularly. 

So that was her fate: to be a plaything for one of the twin rulers. Aia felt a numbness seep into her being at the thought. Even in Gaul the cruelty of the emperors was widely known. 

Despair wanted to burrow deep inside her, but as scared as she was, she promised herself then and there that Geta would not break her. No matter what happened, she knew who she was, and not Geta, nor anyone in Rome, would cause her to forget herself. 

The door opened suddenly and swiftly, causing both Aia and the old woman to start. It was Faunus barging in, a sickening smile on his face. 

"Titus was certainly right! You were worth every denari, Geta will be pleased!" he exclaimed to himself. 

He grasped Aia's face roughly and looked her in the eyes, "yes...you'll make him a very happy man, I'm sure..." 

------

The Imperial palace was an intimidating and domineering presence in the darkness of night, and Aia's heart thumped wildly as Faunus's carriage pulled them along the road up Palatine hill.

" You are not to speak unless spoken to-- which shouldn't be a problem, since you seem to be mute!" he chuckled to himself before continuing, " You will obey Emperor Geta's every command in the instant he states them. You must maintain your beauty, of course you'll have other slaves to assist with that... and don't even think about trying to escape-- this is as much a fortress as it is a palace, and you will be caught-- and severely punished."

The carriage came to a halt and Faunus ordered her out, a guard immediately taking tight hold of her arm. Before the carriage pulled away, Faunus raised a finger towards her, "if you somehow displease Emperor Geta and you tarnish my reputation as a trader... I promise you, I will kill you."

And with that, the carriage disappeared into the night. 

The guard escorted Aia to a back entrance into a kitchen and through several hallways. She was in a maze,-- a beautiful, terrifying maze of marble columns, grand mosaic floors and frescoes at every turn. Incense burned in every corner creating an intoxicating haze that made her slightly dizzy.

They rounded a final corner where a sentry stood outside a magnificent set of doors. The guard released his grip on her arm and walked away, without a single word. 

Aia was now on her own. 

The sentry stepped aside and Aia approached the doors, turning the intricate handle of one and pushing it open with great effort. To her surprise and great relief, the vast room was empty.

The sentry pulled the heavy door closed behind her as she stepped further in. She had never in her life been in the presence of such opulence and it overwhelmed her.

A small pond stood front and center and she could catch the glimmer of small fish in the light cast from the oil lamps; the bed, which seemed to loom ominously to Aia, was larger than any she had seen before, the frame cast in bronze and decorated intricately with mother of pearl. She found herself lost in thought, taking her new surroundings when she heard the creaking sound of the door opening. 

Geta walked in with an air of confidence that Aia found immediately off-putting. He smiled when he saw her and rubbed his hands together as if he was about to devour her.

"You.. are beautiful" he stated singularly, surveying her head-to-toe and up again. He had clearly expected a reaction from her, but Aia stood stock still, mostly out of fear, as much as she would hate to admit it. 

He gave her an amused look, " what is your name?" 

Aia again stood still, not saying a word. Geta stepped towards her and she caught the scent of myrrh.

"Your name." his voice had lost it's amused edge and Aia recalled Faunus's warning.

 "Albina" she answered quietly. 

"Albina" he repeated with a smile, satisfied for at least the moment.

He took a seat in a lavish, carved chair by the pond, not taking his eyes off her. 

"And what corner of this glorious empire are you from?" She could feel her fist clench slightly, a movement that Geta caught.

He met her eyes again and smiled cruelly, " what conquered land are you from?"

" Gaul." 

"Ah, a beauty from Gaul. Faunus always knows how to please me," he exclaimed with a clap that reverberated off the impossibly tall ceilings. She winced at the sound, the nausea and nervousness ever mounting in her stomach. 

"Albina... Albina.." he said to himself as if tasting the name.

He sat up very suddenly and smiled at her, "Now, I venture to guess that as a prize caught in Gaul.. your real name isn't Albina, is it?"

Aia said nothing and kept her face neutral. 

"What is your real name then?"

Aia again said nothing.

 " Tell me your real name, now."

She could see a flush of anger rise in his face as he stared her down. 

"Guard!" he shouted in an instant, causing Aia to nearly jump out of her skin.  

The sentry walked in and Geta beckoned him closer till he was whispering in the guard's ear. She could hear nothing but the sound of her heart beating wildly.

Geta dismissed the guard who then took Aia by the arm, leading her hastily out.

Had she sealed her fate?

Tagging @bridgertonbee1814 and @quuinyoung

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for part 2.

[hephaestuscrew]

On the one hand, I love to reread my own posts because that's content tailor-made to focus on the things I like to think about! I agree with all of these opinions and interpretations!

But on the other hand it's a dangerous game because there's always the chance that I'll find a typo in a post from six months ago that I proofread three times before posting and now has lots of reblogs.