#Because like... I feel like making designs for each of them all and its itching HARD on my brain...

[v10l3tz-thmblr]

Working on a big video atm, but have Lancelot teaching lil Galahad some words <33

Got the audio from here!

[horizon-verizon]

Isn’t it kinda weird that people ship daemyra? I'm not targeting daemyra, but the shippers. Though their relationship was acceptable in their era, I see many fans using this as a pretext to actively endorse it, which is problematic. It's one thing to acknowledge the historical and cultural context of a relationship, but it's another thing entirely to romanticize or ship it when we now have the knowledge and understanding that one of the individuals involved is a child.

Need your opinion on this

DISCLAIMER: I am a Daemyra shipper. Read with caution.

You're essentially asking why it isn't a dealbreaker? You could refer to my post HERE, but here it is in short:

Perhaps I'm going to be flowery, exhaustive, and "purple prosey" again, but I think it is basically that that very context creating the exploration of a tragedy of forces stronger than oneself. People love tragic tales, esp doomed ones. It's almost always validating in that there is a persistence of self against outside pressures that may or may not (but usually does) have said pressures be compulsions to conform against one's own happiness or authenticity, even and sometimes especially when the couple dies at the end. That in of itself is a sort of "resistance" that's supposed to coincide with GRRM's whole thing of "choosing life in spite of death" or "we found love in a hopeless place" sort of thing in ASoIaF, but for royals and in a royal iteration.

Rhaenyra's story is a doomed one not because she was the entire cause of the Dance pr some evil temptress but bc the historical actions of her ancestors and the feudal-patriarchal system they all live under has already set up designs against women and those the women could use to occupy the positions granted to men. GRRM loves his tragic tales of love; look at Rhaelya! But they also tend to--long way forward--lead to strains of hope in later generations...which works to make the whole thing even more bitter sweet and melancholy. They also both buy into it of course, which certainly contributed, but from the jump we know these two will not succeed. So from there it's a thing of enjoying the couple as they are and what they serve in the narrative. Oh, and of course the true star is Dany, and Rhaenyra had to die for Dany's story to be what it was (death of the dragons, women subjugated, Targs losing their sense of self leading to the Rebellion).

When there is no or mostly and actively morally upright party like a Daenerys, humans will root for the most impressive, thrilling, or aesthetically beautiful story/characters/relationships that scratches that itch some. You can certainly whack GRRM for creating so many ships that are this too-taboo thing(s), but people are very prone to misleading some things about people-as-people that I think (even with the historical inaccuracies GRRM defends as "accurate" about ages when noble people married) the writer does convincingly capture between this "conversation" in his work about the relationship between environment and choice. At least for enough people that there is something to how he's doing it.

And then, yes, sometimes people will over-romanticize, and much more than I think you're imagining it, anon. I've read some fics...let's say that sometimes people feel the need to dramatically change the characters that always puts me off bec it erases what was fun about them in the first place.

Here it is written in another way:

A)

The draw of Daemyra for a lot of people is that CONSIDERING THE CIRCUMSTANCES AND EVEN DESPITE/BECAUSE OF THEM, they had one of the most the strongest bonds for the longest time (and yes, even with Daemon loving Laena) in the orig story and they matched each others' drive/fire/pride (the last in all its meanings). They seem (operative word here) to understand each other the most, were the most comfortable with each other, and were the others' biggest support.

Again, it's not exactly the incest but what the incest/age gap (IN THE CONTEXT GRRM CREATED) does for the bond that comes to be.

Daemon for all intents and purposes could have become a perfect culmination of patriarchal privilege and male pride: one of the best warriors of his time, access to one of the most formidable and impressive creatures through his state of birth, action-oriented but not opposed to using strategy tactics, nearly irresistible to women an attitude and inspiring enough to men both in the story and in the fandom with his charisma, blah blah. And he certainly still had all those things or was written that way.

The kickers are that he's forced to acknowledge his truer desires to support his family towards prosperity and survival--where his loyalty to Rhaenyra comes in--and those desires are so much a priority he basically shuns much else, or at least removes himself from that, and thus he cannot/does not bother to put on much airs or try to gain approval...which is a very common thing amongst nobility who often curry favor or imagine themselves to be "good" people because they follow an honor code. There's a "purity" to that, an shameless honesty that draws people in similar to how some people feel about Oberyn and Jaime. And it especially is very attractive to people who have quite a bit of shame themselves over love and sex (for whatever reason, religious shame, queer shame, female shame for sexuality and desiring a stronger partner even anyway) and are (at first or never) inclined to not to try to ennoble it but are lonely and looking for a story of a strong connection/ride or die. That loyalty to Rhaenyra is a "flaw" that some men in the fandom never forgave GRRM for.

Rhaenyra similarly could have been a typical or ideal princess--either way, people wouldn't have liked her or found something to say was a damning "flaw" to say she deserved her fate-- and in some ways, she was. Loved wearing luxurious things and showing off her beauty, beautiful, fertile. But she's inplacably different from the ideal of Andal patriaechy be

Rhaenyra "replaced" Daemon as heir, yet instead of really planning her downfall and committing to his ire against Viserys (yes after being forced away), he appears accept his subordinate position towards the middle and end of his life, even before they marry and fully commitsd to her without losing his own...je-ne-sais-quoi. Despite her loneliness and the surrounding doubt around her for being a female heir, Rhaenyra never seemed to seriously lose her belief in her right to occupy that sort of space and never demurred like some other female characters we (pre-the rise of YA fiction and the Capable+Alluring MC Girl/Woman) were familiar with WHILE not being that kind or good a person (the trope of a Steel-Under-Silk strong, Lady usually has the Lady be good or kind of selfless, sometimes to the point of self effacement). Both had a sort of belief in themselves to a degree and under contexts that put off both readers and their own contemporaries--for different reasons...sometimes the same ones. that sort of symmetry is very appealing BECAUSE OF AND UNDER THE CONTEXT of a world and system (unequally, but the closest it's gotten and could get).

B)

The argument of "for the time/environment", I think, is for use of when we have people claim that some characters like Ceryse Hightower, Larra Rogare, Daemon, Viserys I are pedophiles...when we have Robert Baratheon, Craster, Walder Frey, etc. right there. that they go out of their way to mess up children or teens bec they are genuinely want them for their teenhood/childhood. The childness (full knowledge of childness) is exactly what they aim for.

Sure, none of these characters do not and cannot have the exact same moral systems or values as real moderns (sometimes Western people) do...because they simply do not have that framework to live on and through. So automatically saying a character is a pedo or a groomer can be hasty and inaccurate.

SOMETIMES (again, Walder, Craster, Robert).

It requires one to think about what a groomer or a pedo really is. Which I've squared down to the person wanting to prey on what is known to them and everyone around them as a "child" or "too young" that is socially excluded from every practice and dynamic of sex and romance that adults are expected to participate with each other, and not with said child (or simply manipulate them away from their security/non-security to do so) because the "child" cannot develop psychologically/physically when said adults interrupt their development and/or make them think is one thing when it is the other. Characters like Daemon, Viserys, etc. do not try to seek out what is recognized as "children" or "childlike" (and the "young maidens" or virgins the text states weirdly juxtaposes the lack of Daemon continuing said behavior into his adulthood, which true groomers/pedos always do). All this is strictly against the idea of him being a "groomer", even though like other men and a few women, he gets into something with 14/15 yr old Rhaenyra...

HOWEVER, it is true that patriarchies tend to apply sex-purity values in ways that inevitably encourage attentions on teens (as these are the closest) AND this ALSO doesn't mean that GRRM wasn't/isn't trying to say that this is still a wrong thing for 111 A.C. Daemon to have done and that it wasn't potentially screwy. (I think this is kinda what also "saves" it for some people, that the narrative acknowledges this particular crazy as crazy).

And just as with Dany and Drogo and the age revealed at her first pregnancy, even with Dany having been a bridal slave to Rhaenyra's princess and thus presenting a more visceral stake the latter doesn't have, determining how one sees Dany's regard for Drogo as blatant victim-mindset. For Daemyra, though, it's still not exactly the same and it's just that there isn't much for a claim, story-wise not life wise, of blatant you-know-what-it's.

There are about 4 main theories as to why Daemon of the bk does what he does with Rhaenyra:

he wanted to get back at Viserys for all the years of his ignorance and the recent event of his shipping Mysaria off only her her to lose what would have been Daemon's first kid (so a denial of person, position, and his own heir/family when he seemed to start trying to make himself after a long series of war in the Stepstones, also trying to make some "glory" for himself that Viserys--for him--keeps preventing or ruining)

he thought that the issues of succession Rhaenyra or even Viserys might have with the burgeoning greens, esp Otto, would be better handled if he forced Viserys to have him and Rhaenyra marry and combine lineages...tag him in, coach, he's been ready and you're not doing the job right, so let me in (ironically, I think this is very Visenya-coded...no one is going to be as competent and dedicated as me...just [ugh] with all the male trappings and privilege that shaped his...all that) -- a burgeoning storm they all had to prepare for, and he has to be there for them to survive -- he sees Rhaenyra at court surrounded by greens and is so offended he's even more determined--some might read "desperate"--to handle things even with such little...grace, shall we say

he was "tailoring" and "preparing" Rhaenyra to become more like the wife/partner that would make him most happy and rationalized that he would pay her back with his "hand" and sword, bc they were the best bet for their house...yeah...

when he got there and saw Rhaenyra in her "marriageable" state, he became attracted to her and similar to Laena and the duel, decided to "risk" the damage to his own rep...without letting himself onvder over the possible damage to Rhaenyra

or, ALL OF THE ABOVE...SOME OF THE ABOVE

Whatever Daemon did with her/to her (sex, kissing, near-sex, groping, etc., we don't know what happened but I think it was either sex or something that looked like it would definitely lead to that), it wasn't based on a habit and intention of straight up p*dophilia. More so him being very selfish, continuing the pattern of Targ men Targ-menning against their female counterparts. Using Rhaenyra against Viserys, putting his foot down, whatever.

Therefore he was still abusing his experience and relation with her, the "child-not-child-who-should-have-been-seen-as-a-child-but-wasn't-bc-society-and-patriarchal-selfishness/advantage". So I don't fault or perfectly disagree with people who say "groomer!" After all, their priority is not allowing other crazy people or out already-male-scorched world in further footholding for nonsense in the real world. Can't call them stupid or morally incorrect for that or being concerned. However, I still think there's a misunderstanding of what's being conveyed by the text versus what such a thing would be in real life (Watsonian vs Doylist) AND we can't stop ourselves form writing or showing even the odd and taboo or genuinely concerning stuff when there's something to be shown/told.

It changed to what it needed to be, became what was its potential, AND Rhaenyra was set to marry someone else (before the confirmation that it was always gonna be Laenor, and she didn't know it was him until last minute) who she would likely never be able to trust because of her position, men, yada yada. Might as well be someone she cared for her entire life and we know would not go out of his way, even shift for someone he thought was "worthy", and whoo-boy, was Rhaenyra "worthy" to Daemon. Again, refer to the doomed narrative.

Now Daemon here is so not exactly a good guy if he:

was willing to use his own about-to-married-off-and-subiect-to-purity-politics-standard-that-could-affect-her-reputation both as a girl/woman-as-a-female-heir niece in this way, even if it was after Viserys basically caused him and Mysaria to lose their first kid and came after years of Viserys basically ignoring Daemon--Daemon's eyes, bk and show--in favor of a man who could never hope to be as loyal as Daemon....IN FACT, THIS PROVES HE WAS NEVER THE "GOOD" GUY (I'm yelling at some fics)

prioritizes "sameness" and it comes off as arrogance--"only people like me can handle all this"...however, he'd be not totally incorrect (just annoying to some, charming to others, a little bit of both and feeding-into-each-other for others-others). He's not only a person who grew up, like both female and male nobles, value having the highest classed and prestigious person as a potential mate even if it may contradict "obedience" and he like others wishes to, he also. Again, the appeal of SYMMETRY. And sameness (albeit, in lesser degrees) does have an importance in how many people define what their ideal partner is. Not have the same hobbies or ways and color of dress, but values. Which Rhaenyra and Daemon have the potential of to the max.

If a potential partner's "worth" to be of a certain category or class...but it's fun to see shamelessness at a point AND such shamelessness works to, again, support said female character bc it's a great pair to loyalty, which Rhaenyra needs a lot of and assurance of from. And, no, I don't think she got enough of that from Harwin for all that she did love him (if they did become lovers...but I know you know they were, come on now). Those two had to hide; Rhaenyra's not a hider, not where it doesn't concern her kids' safety at least.

C)

Ironically those assurances come from the reversed--or at least done a little topsy turvy--familial relations, feudal constraints, AND the reality of Targaryens being both a part of this society but also not really on part because of their dragons/innate magicness but also because they are the ruling family.

They are apart from most people around them and find more things in common between themselves, us against the world (yes, in the bk, too); isolated always--unless you're like Rhaena, Dreamfyre's 1st rider, who could and did find female friends everywhere and discovered more freedom and comfort in them through their woman-ness than anyone in her family...but even then, she was more or less emotionally isolated just by being such a woman and a Targ, and the male stink still manages to encroach its way in through Androw Farman and the love she had for Androw's father/her lover's love for said Androw. and as royals, they are by social definition not in physical proximity, thus not as easier seen as any more than political figures/leaders. I mean, sure, we might say "boo hoo", and we'd not be totally wrong, but there is still an effect of treating people not like people that humans have never been able to rein in, and it's important to how the Targs handled many things and were perceived, thus how they responded--queue Jaehaerys I. When we especially talk about the costs to oneself and to how others treat you under the nonphysical protections of power. Whether for good or ill.

Contrast to Jaehaerys and Alysanne, who, thought GRRM notes as one of the greatest pairs, also end up separated by Alysanne's & Jaehaerys' fights over their children's safety and places in the succession, with the obvious running line of it going back to misogyny for the sake of assimilating/holding power instead of using it for making the said society a little better/a lot better.

Contrast to Daario and Daenerys (yes, yes, why would I compare PoV character's observations of a person vs a history book, we get it), Daemyra/RoguesDelight has Daemon knowing and giving more suggestion of longevity bc it's suggested in the text that he had access to the most intimate stirrings of Rhaenyra's head (final letter at Maidenpool as well as all I said above) in a way Daario never did or wanted to with Dany. Oh, of course Daario knew Dany loved her people, was lonely, was all that and the 3rd; but I trump that up to be his observation of what she needed and wanted so he could indulge in being with such a woman and profit from it. Even though he wasn't exactly terrible or whatever, or impatient. This is far from Dany's fault, tbc. Daario is gonna Daario. But, as one person kind brilliantly explained about Dany being a goddess in Twitter:

Part of her struggles is w being dehumanized as a symbol of power but she constantly subverts that by placing the weight of her responsibility/influence into liberating ppl.

Jaehaerys I sorta sets himself and his later scions, by contrast, even with it having had the desired effect of getting people off his back about sibling incest. So does Aegon I, tbh, when while it left the Targs the ability to adapt to their necessities concerning succession, his and his sons leaving it open to duking-it-out...then Aegon named heir over Rhaena...made way for the first stone against women in their house....those most necessarily it seems (after the Dance).

Anyway, they were pretty solid until Rhaenyra's kids started falling like dominoes and were caught in a deceit.

D)

I remember an ask I got once about Daemon showing Rhaenyra explicit imagery in S1E4, where anon said that him doing so proves he is a groomer in the show, where Rhaenyra is 19 instead of 14-15. And adult but just barely AND a lot of people hold that grooming--nonsexual, too--can happen to people to people as old as 34. Personally, I think that the latter is more general manipulation more than "grooming", but I digress and it doesn't really work for 18-20 year olds and up, who again, are practically teenagers.

But I brought up my misgivings about Daemon wanting to abuse children/children adjacent for its own sake already, and it's less evident in the show where the show makes it a point that he wanted Rhaenyra at most stages of her life (when again, she wouldn't be a child-child to them, scowl at GRRM, not me):

the beach scene in S1E7 with adult Rhaenyra, we all saw them heave for each other

we hear/see nothing of his messing with too-young girls after said marriage...the narrative implies he was likely imagining it as some "perfect" Valyrian bride...who happens to be around the same age as state as his niece (still problematic for all the implications of Rhaenyra's significance to him----both in the nature of sex work affecting women/girls AND we really didn't need to hear of that without proving how old those girls usually were to be so used like this as proxies…this is where I personally would have rolled my sorry self out) -> -> -> the probable immediate recall of Jorah doing similar with Dany OR simply Mysaria's observation of this unconscious/repressed desire/teasing him and show!Daemon never having actually done these things -> -> -> of course this could be due to any number of reasons, like his frustrations with Viserys manifesting in looking for a companion in the closest person possible more than that sort of desire

Mysaria: What troubles you, my Prince? I could bring in another. Perhaps a maiden. I have several. I could even arrange one with silver hair. [pause]

This included language of "could" and "perhaps" and "even" (as if this were a thing that she knows it's out of the ordinary) plus her solicitousness to meet his silence and disappeared enthusiasm indicates that show!Daemon was not in the habit of messing w/very young sex workers as bk!Daemon is rumored and told (A Question of Succession):

"and was said to have an especial fondness for deflowering maidens"

Language is important these types of documents. We're given an entire description of his philandering and the contrast of "he sampled" (definite, final, statement-to-not-be-doubted), but there is room with "was said" for Daemon to not have gone around this particular act of seeking out virgin girls. Like how one would say now "I heard such and such also went pulling people's pants down after Marcus saw him go into a strip club" or "people say that Marsha went to Payless for her prom shoes".

Active ("he sampled") vs passive voice ("he[...]was said") can be pretty important to indicate what def happened vs what people believed and could have happened but was never proven. But what do I know, I'm just a probably too-biased Daemyra shipper (this genuinely was not to be snarky, really, you can take or leave my points).

END

For me, it's more when Rhaenyra & Daemon both get older that they shine and I "approve" or really most enjoy Rouges Delight (bk ship name some have taken to call Daemyra) whatever you want to name and distinguish the couple. (I prefer their younger interations [pre E6, S1] in the show not bc Emma is a bad actor--they re not, they're just underutilized and Rhaenyra is written so...terribly that I can never get as into it...I liked Daemyra when they reconciled in S2, for example, but I hated how they got there and not bc of "the ship is sinking" but bec it genuinely was not written well and depended on diminishing both characters). I'm not, however, out here trying to say that anyone else should love this ship, this couple, this story just as much as I don't really mind people not getting into GRRM's writing.

The 111 A.C. issue, there is a certain odd quality it of being obviously out of line and manipulative...while evidence of being a convergence of long-held tension, a beginning towards an inevitable outcome years down the line. SYMMETRY and good writing. I suspect that part of the appeal for some is that push-pull of the delight of "matching freaks and the moral conflict of "but....he's her uncle and he's 2x her age and/or they probably did things when she was way too young", but that's a whole other thing. It keeps people engaged and is perfectly symptomatic of that quality of medievalesque/historical fiction, sure, but bc humans love to play with taboos in fiction...to a certain point. (Personally, again, it is that later timeline that "saved" Daemon for me, as flawed as that may be.) They can indulge in the curiosity of the play of "what ifs" GRRM writes and the subsequent quandaries safely in fiction without getting openly judged & misunderstood for wanting such stories. Sometimes we "play" too close to the sun, though, I admit.

So unless someone's gone off the deep end trying to say that they wouldn't be bothered by a 15 yr old and her 2x older uncle smooching in real life, or try to deny that Daemon was performing, it really doesn't discomfit me that much in the grander scheme of things to me.

Again, I can't blame HotD for uping Rhaenyra's age AND people for just not jiving or hating the ship just as there are those who cannot ever get into ASoIaF for the incessant (to them, too often unpunished by the narrative) incest even outside of the Targs alone. And I get how this is just not going to be enough or that he later is her strongest supporters is enough for a lot of people. But I do want the air cleared a bit and explain the position from where I'm standing. Could change, but I dunno about that. Perhaps this all too biased a breakdown. I warned ya.

This is all in regards to shipping, of course. 😉 Anyway, watch out, there might be more freaks about you in your everyday life like Daemyra shippers, anon!

[beyond-far-horizons]

The Promise of Shonen...Part 1

the-ancient-dragon-of-the-north I totally get the feeling about feeling disappointed by a Shonen that showed promise. Happened with Naruto, and while I never watched Bleach or Fairy Tale, my friends still talk about how disappointingly they ended. What would you personally like to see in a Shonen and its ending?

This is such a great question so I decided to make a separate post if you don't mind?

What would you personally like to see in a Shonen and its ending?

I wanted to explore this more fully because it might take us to the heart of the problem and also I don't like criticising something without mentioning possible solutions. But please skip to the end to get an actual answer as this good quite longwinded! [Edit: I've had to make this 2 parts because Tumblr doesn't like long posts anymore.]

Background

Anyone who follows this blog knows what a fantasy and sci-fi enthusiast I am. I've loved the fantastical since I heard my first fairytale and Greek myth. I followed that thread to anime via a variety of paths - dubs of animes like Pokemon and Yugioh before I knew what they were as a child and then via Studio Ghibi, but it was really my friend showing me Fruits Basket that got me hooked on anime as a storytelling medium. From there I danced around Shojo and Shonen mainly, always following that thread of the fantastical and mythic. That led me to Naruto almost 15 years ago and that's when I really became aware of Shonen as a genre, its highlights and its less than desirable tropes. I fell in love (and hate) with Naruto and Bleach and later One Piece and at the same time got hooked on Attack on Titan until it hit its Marley reveal whereupon the story lost its edge for me and I eventually dropped it all together. I check in now and then with One Piece and go through revivals of Dragonball Z and Yugioh Duel Monsters which I've always had a soft spot. After Naruto and Bleach ended and the rather unsatisfying conclusion to One Piece's Dressrosa arc I found myself falling out of love with Shonen, until last winter where I caught sight of some AMVs of Jujutsu Kaisen's (JJK) heartbreaking Hidden Inventory arc and against my will found myself investing in it despite everything I'd heard about the harrowing events in the story and the increasingly choppy writing. JJK has just ended in a rather unsatisfactory manner and it's got me reflecting on what keeps drawing me back to the genre and why I keep getting turned off by it.

What I love about Shonen

I think what I specifically love about Shonen is the combat. I love fight scenes and warriors combined with myth, magic and the search for meaning. Shonen, specifically Battle Shonen, really scratches that itch, especially with its East Asian roots it almost always combines martial arts with weaponry and magical combat where as Western media often doesn't do this as well. Plus I love the varied worldbuilding which often takes inspiration from Eastern mythologies and philosophies. Eastern philosophies and religions are a major inspiration to my own spiritual practice, although I also draw on Western traditions as well, however I tend to find Eastern philosophies more advanced so storytelling and life lessons drawn from them can be more profound. There's also an interesting dialogue between Japan and the West which continues to be explored through manga and anime, so witnessing how countries inspire and comment on each other and their art styles is cool.

In terms of art style and visual characterisation, Shonen can have some beautiful to downright outrageous character designs! I have a real weakness for beautifully drawn male characters like the Uchihas from Naruto, Byakuya Kuchiki from Bleach and lately Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru from JJK, but you also get gorgeous female characters too. One Piece's designs are always varied and interesting, like I couldn't imagine myself falling for a 10 ft tall, sadistic dude dressed like a flamingo, but Doflamingo is so fantastic from his backstory to his voice acting that you just get swept along. I particularly recall Bleach as having some stunning panels too, Tite Kubo really knew how to make a manga look good.

But really it's the visuals combined with the storytelling that draws me to Shonen. It's hard to quantify how much it's inspired me as a writer/creator, but I love how archetypal it is. With its focus on differing ideals, fascinating magic systems and bonds, Shonen often for me physicalises the emotional conflicts of life. I'm particularly drawn to stories that try to tackle the hard questions like Naruto's focus on the cycle of hatred or JJK's reflections on humanity's negative emotions being like cursed spirits. How bonds and rivalries can positively and negatively affect such dynamics and how we as readers and fans can potentially learn from these relationships and their interactions with the world around them. As someone trained in Jungian psychology, the mythological symbolism is often writ big, especially in common tropes like the rival or the villain being the main character's 'shadow' and how coming to terms with them is often about coming to terms with unacknowledged aspects of oneself. Naruto in particular was very good at this - Talk no Jutsu gets a lot of slack, some of which is valid, but I still find Naruto an excellent counter to some toxic tropes that dictate boys and men can't talk through their problems. I liked how Yuji - JJK's MC has a similar sort of empathy.

Continued in Part 2....

[diableasura]

Now that i've watched every one piece movie that isn't a retelling of an anime arc or straw hat chase i'm gonna go ahead and indulge in the very human tendency of ranking them in order from best to worst (SPOILERS!!!!):

One Piece: Strong World. Maybe it's because this was the first movie i watched and my first experience with one piece in animation but strong world has remained my favorite since day one (though the second place is very very close i must say). The straw hats are all great and have their little moment to shine the plot is solid and they do a great job with nami, out of the four straw hats with a movie more focused on them she's by far the one that gets the best treatment. Strong world is in the perfect position of being a pre time skip movie, so it's not dragged down by the expanding cast of post time skip, but also since it was the tenth anniversary movie they put in more effort than with the previous movies and it shows. Also sanjis cowboy outfit instantly makes it top tier.

One Piece: Film Gold. I'm... kind of obsessed with this movie?? Seeing the straw hats in a heist really scratched an itch i didn't know i had but my god does it feel good. The designs really excelled here the crew looks gorgeous throughout the entire movie and tesoro's island is so interesting and fits very well in the one piece world. Tesoro is also my favorite villain of any movie, i've seen people say he's the perfect blend between crocodile and doffy and that's so true lmao. Loved having zoro as the damsell in distress, inject that shit straight into my veins i love it when the strong character is the one in need of rescue. Everyone was very cool during the heist but i remember really enjoying franky and luffy's dynamic cause lbr we're kinda starved of it in the manga so it was nice to see them interact so much here. Overall amazing movie and the only one i've rewatched out of all of them.

Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island. This movie has become a cult classic amongst the fandom and with good reason. It breaks away from the loud spectacle of the other movies and is quieter and more unsettling and so far the only example of actual psychological horror in the lore. I've talked about this before but that final scene with the straw hats cheering luffy on even while they're being consumed by the baron and luffy struggling to the brink of death to save them changed me... I love seeing this family love each other so much!!

Clockwork Island Adventure. I know, I know what's the second movie doing so high up... but it was just so good!! It's very short but that's just a benefit to the plot and i love the gimmick of each straw hat being captured one by one till it's just luffy remaining and the one who has to free them (can you tell i love the movies where the straw hats are kidnapped and the others have to rescue them?? that's my drug). Sanji's fight in this movie kicks ass too, the animation is gorgeous.

One Piece: Film Red. This might seem like a sin, to have this movie so far down the list cause i've seen its pretty unanimously tied up with baron omatsuri as the best movie but to be honest i feel like that's just recency bias. The movie is still a spectacle and the songs slap and yes one of them was in the top 5 of my spotify wrapped this year lol. Uta is a good antagonist but i was never that hooked by her shared past with shanks and luffy, mainly because it's so aggressively impossible for it to be canon, it almost broke my suspension of disbelief. Zosan sleeping side by side was pleasing to my monkey brain and it almost made up for including st charlos in the movie seriously what the fuck was he doing there-

One piece: Stampede. The start of this movie is amazing cause they come up with the perfect competition to have all of these pirate crews on the same place but it quickly devolves into a "how many characters can we fit in" contest and the plot quickly turns into "lets all beat up the villain", which is fine! I did like seeing so many characters, at one point half way through the movie crocodile just appears out of nowhere lmao but hey i'm not complaining i love crocodile. Usopp is the straw hat who's focused on the most in the movie and i feel conflicted with what they did with him cause it just felt like they were making him go through his water 7 arc all over again by having his inferiority complex flaring up. And usopps arc was amazing in water 7 but reviving it for this movie felt a bit weird and repetitive. Despite this though i was very happy seeing him getting the focus, usopp is a painfully underrated character so having him on the spotlight is always welcome.

Dead End Adventure. This movie is a lot of fun. There's a bar fight, a secret pirate race and sanji being his sneaky self and helping out luffy during the final fight. Whats not to love?

One Piece: Film Z. Much like Stampede, i really enjoyed the start of this movie cause the monster trio get to briefly fight the big baddie together, but the plot kinda loses some steam for me after that. Also they tried to make the admirals sympathetic cause the villain is a retired admiral who was once their mentor but i really really really dont care about the marines at all so that was a bit awkward. The straw hats look stunning in this movie, i love that in the movies they give them a million different outfits and the ones from this one absolutely slayed.

Choppers Kingdom on the Island of Strange Animals. Another fun movie where all the straw hats get a moment be cool. There's a kid on this island who i found completely insufferable but i can forgive this movie cause this is also where zosan have that famous scene where they praise the other to their defeated oponent, which made my monkey brain happy.

One Piece: The Movie. This movie's biggest misstep is that sanji isn't in it, but even with this critical flaw it was still quite enjoyable. Zoro is very funny on his own but add luffy into the mix and their dynamic was hilarious. Usopp as always was great. The villain is small potatoes tbh but not really the important part of the movie, which focuses more on the relationship between the kid they meet and his gramps. The final message was surprisingly very sweet. Also sanji appears briefly in the end credits to appease me.

Giant Mechanical Soldier of Karakuri Castle. This movie is a-okay. The villains are a complete joke and it takes the crew less than five minutes to deal with them. The crew dynamics carry all of my enjoyment with this one.

The Cursed Holy Sword. Yeah... this movie commited the unforgivable sin of having zoro as the main focus and yet managing to do absolutely nothing interesting with him. Even if they did shamelessly create kuina 2.0 with saga, they could've delved into how zoro would react when two different duties (his promise to saga and his position as the crew swordsman) clash against each other... but instead we see no conflict with zoro, even though we all know this situation would be conflicting for him. They just make him scowl throughout the whole runtime and thats just not who Zoro is... Luffy and usopp are a lot of fun though.

TL; DR my ranking is:

Strong World

Gold

Baron Omatsuri

Clockword Island

Red

Stampede

Dead End

Z

Choppers Kingdom

One Piece: The Movie

Karakuri Castle

Cursed Holy Sword

Conclusion: the one piece brainrot is no joke.

[beeblackburn]

Top 5 favourite films?

Thank you, @hiddenlookingglass!

Before I continue, I have to give the obvious caveat that I haven't watched a ton of films, relatively speaking. I think most of these films were watched last year alone. And, making this list, I have to give honorable mentions, because, fuck me, originally this list was seven entries and, short of cheating this ask to write out top seven or ten, it was never going to happen without title-dropping the runner-ups, so here goes:

You Were Never Really Here: Take the premise of John Wick, drain it of all the orchestra and slickness, ground it in broken people, scarred by violence in childhood to adulthood, and polish it off with some of the tightest film editing and sound design in the industry, and you get my unquestionably favorite anti-violence film.

The Final Exit of the Disciples of Ascenscia: A lovely and tragic indie gem of an animated film about a cult, one that finally clicked the appeal of them without diminishing their harm, and one that breaks me in touching on my own questions of loneliness... and whether being in an unhealthy dynamic is better than being alone.

Paddington: The second one is undeniably an even better film, but this one's rain scenes and leisurely narrative feels cozier to me. Whenever I feel like complete dogshit, I rewatch this, because Paddington's charm and earnestness winning over the Browns before realizing he found his family and home with them is hrrgh.

The Green Knight: A visually sumptuous banquet of the senses, trippy and wondrous in how it depicts Gawain's knightly trials, with moral and literary themes that scratch my itches and a fantastic leading actor who carries the film, complete with an ending that brings it all home, landing with such an earned emotional punch.

The Witch: Eggers' mastery at inhabiting the psychological reality of his time periods is impeccable, and it all started with this horror tale of a family plagued by the supernatural outside their walls... and religious anguish and Puritan misogyny among its members. Paired with a hell of an ending and arresting last shot? Delicious.

And, now, onto the proper top five!

1. Everything Everywhere All at Once

Look, is the script overstuffed with exposition about how the multiverse works? Yes. Is it ultimately narratively unwieldly, even faking us out with a false climax, and increasingly uneven to the end? Yes. Are some of the jokes pretty juvenile in the "haha, dildos are funny" realm? Yes. Could it have been more queer? Yes. Is the conclusion a little too tidy and pat, especially for my Chinese childhood abused-ass? Yes, yes, yes. There are definitely fair criticisms that I can agree to, but...

Every time I revisit this film, it wrecks me a whole another way. I never escape this film emotionally unscathed, I philosophically and morally match to it like an alternate version of me jumped into my mind, slipped into my flesh. There are at least five scenes in it that crack me open like a chestnut and I'm left a blubbering mess and astonished at how it manages to tie together all the chaos at the end in such believable catharsis that I can still buy into.

It's still an amazingly-acted film that allows for a rough, unpleasant, and embittered middle-aged female protagonist to lead the events, quite a few ladies dictate and command the plot, and manages to juggle a ton of disparate tones, balancing genuine pathos with bathos, and emotional weight undergirding every bit of silliness and goofy concepts it throws at you. It's still a multiversal familial drama that, at the heart of it, is centered around the experience of what if our first-generation immigrant parents made different choices, that failure can be its own positive experience in a lifetime full of not living up to your parents-demanded potential, and that, in depressive ennui, loneliness, and intense nihilism, all we can do is love, embrace what little joys our speck of lives get, and be there for each other. That, despite the material hardships and pain of a life, our connections still matter enough to keep at it.

It throws the totality of everything beyond the universe at our minds and senses, even down to "talking" rocks and sausage-fingers people, calling to the sheer information overload that most everyone in 2022 felt keenly, acknowledging that it can be such a burden that threatens to hollow us out with existential indifference... and earnestly makes its own case against that. If nothing matters, if all we do and are is worthless in the grander scope of the universe, then these moments we're facing right now, the people in our lives, they matter.

We're not built to attend to everything everywhere all at once. We'll always feel the whisper of what-ifs, the weight of different paths not taken. We might even be useless alone. All we can really do, in the end, is be there for these moments and people around our present. I can't help, but cherish this film on those grounds, but it offered such an awe-inspiring, emotionally resonant experience that it jumps up to my favorite as a result.

2. Pig

How has this masterpiece of a debut, depicting grief, human connection, the heart and art being hollowed by loss and commercial concerns, and masculine vulnerability with such finesse, flown under the radar, nor been nominated for any major accolades? I'm genuinely asking, because, aside from maybe one particular scene that tries to fake us out into thinking it'll become a more conventional John Wickesque revenge thriller, I don't see any crucial flaws that wouldn't warrant it in the discussion as one of 2021's best films. If you haven't yet, treat yourself to one of the best films I've watched.

I watched one of its mid-section scenes, that speech, you know the one if you've watched it, on its own, and wept at the power of its acting, dialogue, and direction by itself. The fact that I still broke down, despite primed, when watching it in the context of the full film should tell you how good Sarnoski's hands are at his first try as director. He brings an intimacy and restraint to the camera in capturing the events in the film, often situating his central characters against the wider scope of his landscapes and environments through a wider lens, showing them as small people against the greater beasts of being scored by grief and loneliness.

Though, given I brought up John Wick, one facet these two share, despite the bait-and-switch of premise, is that almost every character, no matter how minor, has a personality and some texture of history with the protagonist, by direction or sheer acting. Sarnoski just trusts us to infer the weight of history between our characters and, if you want to know how well that approach turns out, Cage's performance should be the clear-cut sign. If you have any doubts of how good Nicholas Cage could be, and trust me, I had a few, this is easily his subtlest, most restrained performance. No signs of a Cage hamfest, this is him at his best and minutely controlled, portraying a stoic man whose hardened demeanor and lack of social graces belies a painful past and years spent in intentional human disconnect.

And how we disconnect from other people bleeds into this narrative, permeates like an unspoken wound that won't scar and heal without proper treatment. Our central characters are haunted by ghosts in the narrative, unable to process what they've lost or reach out to others, for fear of surrendering to the totality of pain from that absence. But there's also disconnect from retreating to what others want, never showing ourselves and only what's acceptable to our social peers, our patrons, or our families, and it costs us piece-by-piece until there's slowly nothing left of us.

And it ends up on an unexpected climax and such a gentle note about masculinity, about how men suffer in trying to bear their griefs stoically, instead of permitting a chink of vulnerability. I dare not spoil more, you have to see it for yourself in how it succeeds in defining its own terms for masculinity and how much emotion cracks through the narrative. It's a film that divulges into the nature of art and food, and how they can bring forth an invitation of connection to others, and it deserves so much consideration and attention, given how much of a powerhouse it is.

3. A Ghost Story

Oh, this sleeper hit of heartache. I knew, going in, that the ending scene would cut to the emotional bone, having checked it out in a clip before, but the knife this slid between my ribs was unexpected in its depth and sharpness, especially given when I watched it. This was after I watched both Pig and The Green Knight, both stellar, emotional films, and while I think Lowery's later work there is better put-together in both pacing and visuals (A Ghost Story absolutely has scenes that drag, and I genuinely think one in particular suffered from overstaying its moment and not fitting Lowery's strengths as a visual/atmospheric director), this touched me so much more in its statement of grief and time.

I've watched enough films to get a decent grasp on my tastes, and its meandering, contemplative, more mundane fares that let scenes breathe in their silence without a quippy aside. This one suffused me in its haunting, contemplative atmosphere from the halfway point, lingering onwards and well after it ended. Lowery's direction is grounded in its intimacy, choosing to focus long stretches on mundanities other directors would've skipped past, as if to say these small moments, daily and common as they are, are what's most important in the grand scope of life and what we focus on, despite the vastness on time upon us all.

And the time spent during grief is where the film guts me in its first half. Going from cozier domesticity, full of lived-in marital discussions and intimacies, to the tangle of strangers sorting through the post-death ceremonies and the silences in the griever's life, booming from the absence of their beloved. Those long, uninterrupted shots, from then on, serve to point out how life persists after our bereavements. There is such attention and empathy to the camera, in how the director wants to show how people cope with grief, how it dogs our every movement, weighs down our limbs, loosens out the tears inside, and make us focus our energies on such simple things like eating food in the dark, to fill the hole our losses leave behind.

But if some trace of us survive as ghosts, upon death, then loss cuts both ways, and it's here that this film truly unmakes me in how it handles grief and remembrance on the ethereal side. Using ghosts as a speculative vehicle, it invites us to see how differently they experience the passage of time, as these beings are temporally untethered, but stay geographically tethered to a particular land. There's such a bitter loneliness to their existences, how being unravaged by time means they are unable to grieve being left alone themselves, they cannot move on by the temporal march by itself.

It's a beautiful, tender film, where centuries can pass by in the blink of a transition, but tiny affections take up whole minutes. A quiet narrative where snapshots of marriage and the tolls of grief take up uninterrupted stretches, letting them sit inside us and linger. A poignant story that ponders, sincerely, if something, anything survives of us after we are gone from this earth, or if we are doomed to have our impact on this mortal plane swept aside and forgotten after we pass away and time moves on from us.

4. The Last Duel

I have a confession: this is my first and, so far, only Ridley Scott joint for various reasons. I don't love R-rated films, I easily get squeamish over live-action gore, and his biggest film and the one most people remember him by was Alien, which wasn't The Thing graphic, but definitely still above my comfort level! So I never touched him for a decade and a half. Now, later, I watched some of the earlier grisly parts of Game of Thrones and found out he directed plenty of period dramas, which was more my speed, and I got the opportunity to check his The Last Duel out with a group viewing. Now, given that preamble, imagine how I felt at its opening scene: a slow-burn of an opening with a lady being dressed before a duel between two men, shot in the same way they are being armored, as if she bears her life as well on the line, and bears witness to two knights charging at each other, before they converge, both hoping to break bones and shed blood.

That, and the subsequent Battle of Limoges, would absolutely impressed onto me that holy shit, Scott directs action in two minutes unquestionably better than some directors do in entire films. He portrays the inherent viciousness, filth, and ferocity of battle in a way that immediately clicked to me as a fan of Joe Abercrombie and a lesser one of Miles Cameron. And armor matters! But that, by itself, wouldn't have made for a favorite of mine. No, it's how this is a proper medieval legal drama with three central, compelling characters at its heart, each explored through a Rashomon-style framing device, and a heartbreakingly timeless message of what a rape victim's choices are in the patriarchy. Does it have its flaws? A few admittedly key ones of editing and dialogue that give away its directorial intent, but nothing so critical to weigh it down from its vaulted highs.

What's amazing about this film, and one of the key things I respect about it as someone who wants to write in that age, is how much, for the majority of its narrative, it is grounded in its medieval realities without turning its characters into anachronic mouthpieces. It has a showcase of warriors scarred and visually worn down by the wars they waged, discusses how the Black Death affected medieval economics and taxes, deals with betrothals and the dowries involved, and how waning wartime fortunes in a lord can sour the pot there, and the turmoil of marriage life, especially how reproductive knowledge intersected with beliefs about rape and love at the time. It admirably enmeshes itself so utterly in the culture of that age, that it's depressing to consider just how much patriarchal culture hasn't changed since then.

And how it divulges into patriarchal culture with nuance, and how women become victimized by it, is so key to making the proceeding duel all the more impactful. Because, as the framing device shows, these men don't come from a vacuum of their medieval culture, their egos and entitlements and self-justifications were shaped by their sexual circumstances and chivalric tales, and there are countless others like them who've done just as bad, if not worse, to others. It's why, even before the duel's outcome is set in stone, the crushing truth of the matter is... no matter the result, at least one individual dies, but the patriarchal apparatus stands, grinding up women in the future as it did the one witnessing the duel.

It's unflinching in its depiction of medieval culture, it's brutal in its violence, both warfare and sexual, and it demands an expectation of ambiguity in the character psychologies and gives no easy answers on how to deal with the patriarchy, especially when, as a lady of the time, you were dependent on the men who uphold it, at the mercy of their actions for your justice. It's why the last third is so harrowing: before the duel, before the trial, even before the incident, countless women went through similar horrors without the spectacle of public scrutiny. The final emotional context leaches the initial excitement when we return to the opening, leaving behind only cold understanding and terrible tension, no matter how much thrilling combat clashes and clangs in the winter air. It's my favorite period drama so far, and I don't expect it to be beat anytime soon.

5. The Secret of Nimh

Another confession: I didn't watch this, front to back, until the 30th Anniversary screening at my local Cineplex theater last year. Not that I didn't love what I saw in clips and pictures, but when the full film was on Youtube when I was in my teens, I neglected to watch it all the way, then it got taken down for a long while. There were other animated films and I didn't relish checking it out in separated clips. So, I knew a bit of what to expect, but boy, this whole film on the big screen was a greater feast for the eyes than any recent Pixar film I checked out. Does it have its problems? Yes, it's definitely narratively uneven, even rushed at times. I do wish some characters got more fleshed out and more time was given to the runtime, as a result. And I can 100% get the criticism of that climax resolution being a deus ex machina, even if I don't agree with it.

But, also, it's fucking The Secret of Nimh. Every frame here feels like it was downloaded from my mind, every sketchy bit of animated linework like it was distilled from my meaty head pulp. Its gothic and dark sci-fi aesthetics are unimpeachable to me, no other animated film comes close to approaching how much I viscerally crave their visual trappings. Say what you will about Bluth, and I certainly have my opinions about his stinkers, but even in them, the man and his team can draw up gorgeous, magical backgrounds and artistry. They're fascinating, lovingly animated and/or goddamn horny messes, bless them. You get a consistent grainy sort of texture in the linework, in the animation models themselves, that I can't help, but always adore with my eyes, hitting a sweet spot with me in this particular feature animation of his.

Even through the more childish trappings like Jeremy and the simplicity of the quest structure, how it balances those with its more heady themes always intrigues me further as an adult, like how we'll uplift our lesser animals before disregarding them, leaving them with the alienation and consequences of those experiments, and how the arrogance and selfishness of humanity manifests in our creations as a result. There's also bits of understated worldbuilding one catches better as an adult, like the fact that the non-Nimh associated female animals have no first names and are surname-defined by species (Auntie Shrew) or by male partner (Mrs. Brisby), suggesting a patriarchal ecological system. And, even before all that, the poignancy of a mother's quest to suck in her fears to protect and save her child from death only enriches with age.

None of this would hit as well, if not for the characters, even the supporting cast being animated to give them such fluid energy and expressive body language in the best of Bluth fashion. Most are dimensional enough in script to make the overall cast a cut above the typical animated fare, even the one-offs or the minor ones that appear in one scene or two. But the crown that completes the jewel of this production is the lead herself, Mrs. Brisby. She's easily one of the best, if not straight-up so, animated protagonists ever. Female leads weren't unknown back then, but mother leads? Almost unheard of, back then. And a huge part of that best status, what cements her place as such is that she's vulnerable throughout the movie. She's just a small mouse in a world full of giants and monsters, and she never fails to be scared at the vastness of the obstacles in her path. Yet, she doesn't whine, nor cower when the chips are down. By all accounts, her storied husband should've been the hero here, carrying out this mission to help cure his child... but he's gone, and Mrs. Brisby has to rise up to the occasion, stir up her courage to go on this sprawling quest, face down horrors and ancients again and again, all for her child. No one expected this of her, and she's always fearful every step of the way, but her conduct always reminds me of the GRRM quote, that being afraid "is the only time a man can be brave," which Mrs. Brisby demonstrates so much, with such earnest vulnerability.

The Secret of Nimh is a lot of things. It's a story about the vastness of the world as a little person in it through the perspective of a mouse, with horrors and monsters beyond your comprehension and understanding. It's a cautionary tale about human hubris towards nature and how our creations risk being condemned by the same flaws we ourselves succumb to. It's a three-way struggle between nature, science, and the unknown beyond our knowing grasp. It's a beautiful series of nature and grotesque sci-fi backgrounds and animation work, through some of the most expressive body language, facial emotions, and voice acting with talking animals, worthy of being Disney's creative challenge at the time, and especially now. It's a dreamy fairy tale narrative, where the hero must undertake a quest for a reward at the end, except this protagonist dwells in the shadow of the hero that should've been. Deep down, at its very beating heart, it's a mother journeying to the ends of her earth to protect and save her child, with fierce fear and clear courage. It's my favorite animated film.

[fandsart]

i’d love to see double date or tattoo fic for stobin (from the stobin month prompts)

I asked for requests because I could not choose between them and then you sent me a choice. Fear not, I will combine. Gonna ignore that tattoos weren’t legal in Indiana until the 90s, as it seems everyone is doing that anyway

Double dates make things easier. Nobody blinks an eye at what the activity they’re doing implies when it’s being done with two girls and two boys. It already looks like a double date. If they’re all giggling—as a group—well, no one really questions it. Still, they try to go out of town for it. The people in town know them too well. Assume that Steve and Robin would be dating which is uncomfortable on its face, but even if they were willing to go the beard route, that leaves Vickie and Eddie to pretend to be a couple, and they aren’t the closest. It would be a difficult idea to sell, long term at least.

It’s fun exploring the towns over too; places they’ve never been. Just walking around and finding things to do on the date as they go. Vickie once described it as like window shopping for date samples and then making a meal from the samples. Though she used more words to describe the idea.

So they’re wandering the area, looking in at random shops when Eddie suddenly shouts, “Oh my god, I totally forgot I’ve been here before!”

“Define ‘here,’” Robin prompts.

“This town. I drove over here last year for my wyvern tattoo.”

“I think, only you could forget about a town you went to a year prior,” Vickie says.

“What reminded you?” Steve asks.

“I recognize this area. The tattoo parlor is, like, a block away.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s the drive back that gets them talking, because Eddie has a strict rule regarding not getting impulse tattoos after getting the one his bats now cover, but he’s always itching to get more ink. The only issue comes with committing to a design and figuring out whether he’s actually prepared for the permanency of his choices or if he’s just so desperate to make himself into a work of art that he’s willing to take any image and slap it on his skin.

“If you want something meaningful to put on your skin, why don’t you just have someone you care about pick the design?” Vickie asks. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have any regrets then. I mean, unless you have a falling out with that person, but if it’s someone you really trust it would probably have to be, like, way down the road.”

“Oooh, Stevie, wanna get matching tattoos with me?”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if there’s anything that would be fitting for you to get that I would be also super comfortable having on my skin. No offense.”

“Course not, love.”

“But I could probably think up something for just you.”

“Aw, just for me?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“But yes?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’ll doodle you up something all for you.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo,” Vickie says, directed at Robin. “Maybe a matching one would be too early for our relationship, but corresponding ones could be cool. If you’re down for it. Like if they work as a pair, but could be viewed on their own just fine? But they would be meant to represent ourselves more than each other, you know?”

“We could get our instruments done.”

“Yes!”

“We aren’t heading back now for you to get that done,” Eddie says. “You’ll have to wait.”

“Obviously. We’d need to set up what they’re going to look like anyway.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised with how little a tattoo artist can work with. I know your instruments are kind of complex, but you could at least get a pretty good simple version of them. More detail means a higher price anyway.”

“We should probably sit on the idea for a little bit anyway,” Vickie says.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

“Wat’cha workin’ on?” Robin asks, pulling on her uniform vest, ready to start the few shared hours of work she has with Steve after school.

“Brainstorming ideas for Eddie.”

“Oh, the tattoo! How’s it coming?”

“Not well. I feel like if I saw an idea I could tell you whether he would like it or not. I know him well enough for the yes or no of it, but coming up with an idea myself is so hard. I know how Eddie thinks, but it’s not how I think, so I’m drawing a blank. You and Vickie made these decisions look so much easier.”

“Well, maybe if you tried to look for something you have in common like Vickie and I did…”

“It’s not… Look, I’m not upset that me and Eddie are so different. I love him for it. I just wish I could do this for him. I’m glad that you and Vickie being so similar works for you, but so does my relationship the way it is.”

“Well, obviously it’s not working that well.”

“Shut up, we aren’t going to break up over my uncreativity. Eddie’s just usually the creative one in the relationship. I mean, the reason he asked me to do this is because he’s literally so creative he won’t think his choices through.”

“At least he’s self aware enough to recognize that in himself.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe instead of brainstorming for just Eddie you should do some practice brainstorming first.”

“‘Practice brainstorming?’”

“Like a warm up. Like, you know how professional artists will, like, warm up by drawing a bunch of circles on a page before working on their actual pieces.”

“... No?”

“Ok well they do. Basically what I’m saying is that if your issue is that you don’t think the way Eddie does, then you could at least get into the mindset of thinking about what makes a good tattoo first. You think more similarly to me than you do Eddie, so if you were picking out a tattoo for me, what would you pick?”

“Well obviously a trumpet is an easy go-to. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “One thing you could do is get the word for robin—like the bird—down in every language that you know. And then you could add one whenever you learn a new language.”

Robin hums. “I might use that, but no time soon. I’ll have to think on it. Any other ideas?”

Steve snorts. “Ice cream.”

“That doesn’t even work out of context. The only way that could work, like, as something that represents me, is if you get a matching one.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, yeah, the only way I’d even get an ice cream tattoo would be if you were getting a matching one.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I don’t know. The Scoops uniform had, like, a patch on the shoulder. I’d probably do that.”

“Well if that’s the metric we’re using, my uniform had it on the vest. That puts it on my…”

“Your boobie.”

She elbows him lightly. “Gross.”

“Oh, whatever! It’s part of your body Robin. How can you not bring yourself to name a part of your own body?”

“It’s gross that you’re the one saying it.”

“But you also don’t say it!”

“I’m also not getting a tattoo there.”

“Then just also get it on your shoulder! You don’t have to follow the logic.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

A couple weeks later sees Robin getting two tattoos. A trumpet on her left forearm, the same place Vickie got her clarinet, and an ice cream on her right shoulder in the same place as Steve’s. And Eddie is absolutely obsessed with his new tattoo of an african death-head moth. He named it Andrew. Steve may have recruited Dustin for help on getting past “moth.”

Despite being their most physically painful double date, it’s probably one of their most fun ones. Having some kind of goal and actually getting something—an actual physical thing—out of it makes it feel like they’ve achieved something. Maybe they should start structuring their dates a little bit more, even if it’ll be a little more tricky to keep their relationships on the down low.

It’s not longer “stobin month” but I will continue taking requests from the prompt list by @lesbianancyy because I wanted to take more in the first place, but I got these out late, because I’ve been super busy

[meduthenitediaries]

Megan - III

Dear Diary,

Something strange happened today. Mrs. Rosewood told us that Meduthenite Syndrome is getting worse. People all over the world are getting sick, and it’s spreading fast. She said its a pandemic now, and today was our last day of in-person classes. We’re all going home with laptops, and our classes will be online until further notice. She said it would only be two weeks, but it might be longer. We knew this might happen. This is not what was strange, well not completely. What is strange is how everyone acted the whole day.

I stopped paying attention after that because I started to feel scared. During her talk, some kids kept looking back at me. Were they scared of me? Or just curious? Maddie and Alyssa wouldn’t even look at me.

I already sit away from everyone as it is, that just made it more obvious.

When Mrs. Rosewood continued with the lesson, I asked for the bathroom pass and cried in the stall. I don’t remember much of the day after that. When we got our laptops, I tried to say goodbye to my friends, but it was weird. They said they’d see me around and that two weeks would go quickly, but they seemed off, like they didn’t really want to talk.

They’ve been acting like that for a while now. When I think about it, I first noticed it on Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day has always been one of my favorite days of the year. I always make my cards a few days before the holiday, making sure I have the perfect ones for everyone in my class, even the teacher. I loved picking out the cutest designs and spending hours adding stickers and writing little notes to make everyone feel special. I always made the best ones for Alyssa and Maddie because they’re my best friends! We give each other small gifts with our cards, like candy or friendship bracelets, and it makes me really happy! Plus, I bring in cookies that I make with my mom. We always bake heart-shaped cookies the night before. <3

This year, though, it was different. Valentine’s Day came a few weeks after I got sick, and I noticed something had changed. I still made cards for everyone in the class, and I still brought in the cookies. But when I started handing out my cards, something felt off. The smiles I got in return didn’t seem genuine, and people avoided looking me in the eye. It was like they were trying to be polite but wanted to keep their distance.

When I was done handing out cards, I went back to my desk and looked at the small pile of cards I received. There was one from Alyssa, one from Maddie, one from Mrs. Rosewood, and one from Tyler and Jordan. But they gave cards to everyone, so it didn’t feel special/

I thought there might be something wrong but tried not to dwell on it. The next few days were mostly normal, but now with today’s news, it feels like everything is changing, and I won’t even get to see them.

They sent us home with a letter to explain what’s going on to our parents. I know Mom spoke to the school a few times over the last few weeks about this possibly happening, so it won’t be a total surprise to her.

I set up my laptop while mom made dinner. She liked to cook on the few nights a week that we had dinner together. But when we sat down to eat, she had to take a call about a patient! I wanted to wait for her to eat but I know how those calls go. They always last longer than expected, and dinner gets cold. So I waited a few minutes before starting without her. When I was done, she was still on a call so I went to do my homework. She ate dinner on the couch after watching her show.

After my homework, I looked up  information about the pandemic because I was curious. There are almost 100,000 people sick with Meduthenite in 12 different countries. It sounds like a lot/ Almost 2,000 people have died from it already.

I already have a cough. Just the other day my throat started itching which makes the cough worse. 

I wish I wasn’t curious.

Bye,

Meg

[tamaharu]

have you ever held a snake? its cool how their bodies work. anyways this isnt good but i was losing my mind over not writing anything this summer so approx 850wds of hiccup and toothless (mostly hiccup) trying to figure out how a body works prior to a prosthetic.

The first thing Hiccup learns about the body is that you don't notice how it all works until you're already looking for it.

The second thing Hiccup learns about the body is that it is immaculately designed.

Oh, sure, there are flaws. On humans, this includes soft skin that can easily break, teeth that can rot and corrupt the mind with them, and an infuriating lack of natural weaponry compared to most other animals. Narrowing it down further, Hiccup can point to a few personal flaws, size and stature chief among them.

But, on an architectural level - and Hiccup, who is, among other things, something of a self-taught engineer - he can appreciate the thought Odin must've put into it.

Bones that feed in together, muscle stretching and compressing without even having to think about it, organs packed together but hardly straining, joints swinging on their axels - it's interesting, what you can feel if you pay attention to it.

Only, he's not trying to get a feel for his human body. There are a lot of things he can notice about it, a lot less he can fix. No, it's on his mind because he's paying heed to something much more important than his own body: Toothless' body.

It's all well and good to design a tailfin based on sheer observation, prior knowledge of aerodynamics, and sheer stubbornness, but if you want a prosthetic to work, you have to pay attention not only to the look of the lost limb, you have to watch for the way that limb was supposed to work with the rest of the body surrounding it.

After the first failed flying attempt - only half-failed, Hiccup reminds himself, trying not to get overwhelmed before he's even truly begun - Hiccup spends more time watching and feeling than designing. It's hard for any Viking to sit back and wait rather than brute force his plans, but in the same way they only half-failed, Hiccup feels like at this point he's only half-Viking, and he has to adapt to a strangely dragon-like patience if he wants to get anywhere.

He still brings Toothless fish, and they start to play with more abandon now that they've reached a middle ground, which helps put him in frequent physical contact with the dragon. Seeing the way a muscle moves and feeling the way a muscle moves under his hands as Toothless swings his tail is just as different as watching from a distant cliffside and watching from right next to him.

Toothless grumbles when he puts his hands on him, but Hiccup just grumbles back, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, turn over. I want to see how the muscles on your underside tense when you do that." If Toothless doesn't want Hiccup prodding, he's a giant firebreathing lizard who can damn well get the boy to leave him alone if he tries. Still, fair's fair, and in return, even though Hiccup has a reason and Toothless very much does not, he lets the dragon prod at his body too, via snout and paws.

Between the two of them, the pair quickly learns where the other is ticklish, where there are complete no-go spots, where it really hurts to receive deliberate pressure, and where it really doesn't. Additional lessons include the staying power of dragon spit (much to Hiccup's displeasure and Toothless' amusement, it does not wash out), the power of opposable thumbs in satisfying itches (much, much better than Toothless' clumsy claws), and the different ways they keep warm (he can produce fire, but Toothless is cold-blooded at the end of the day and Hiccup is not, so they each bask in each other's warmth as necessary).

It's more information than Hiccup could've ever dreamed about when he went looking for Night Furys in the Book of Dragons, nearly overwhelmingly so, and the only thing that doesn't make him start babbling from insanity is that he's fairly sure it's just as strange to Toothless, too. Who knows when the last time a human and a dragon both got to examine a living specimen was? Hiccup has half a mind to believe they're the first, and it only makes him more excited to throw himself into his work.

Eventually, he thinks he's got the right details, pretty sure he knows the way Toothless' fin tail positions itself more accurately than even the dragon knows by instinct. It reminds him of when he was five and held a snake for the first time - smaller than the dragon but reptilian all the same - and felt the way it tensed its joints and muscle so deliberately to inch across his arm. He'll have to keep tweaking, considering the movement as he flies won't be the same as he's learned on land, but it's enough, it has to be enough.

It's crazy, but Hiccup thinks he knows enough about dragon anatomy to make this tail thing work.

Months later, he thanks Odin that when Toothless helps bite off the damaged half of his left leg, the dragon knows just as much about human anatomy in return to leave him his knee.

[archivist-the-knight]

oh my god... spoilers under the cut but i need to talk about here for sweethearts

this is the first arcadekitt game i've played [not the first ive seen!! i saw my neighbor enid in a playthrough format and decided to check out the author's other work.] and??? best one i could've chosen i loved the experience.

first off even without the plot twist the game is really good. its so sweet and genuine, all of the characters are super nice and the dialogue feels natural. each character is likeable, and you have equal reasons to like and dislike each of them. their flaws are balanced out as equally as their pros. also?? the pride flags were really cleverly incorporated into the designs. especially acanthibar... the others are cool i love em but acanthibar... he takes the cake. the aro sleeves... the trans sash... he's giving it his all dude highest respect for my frog guy. also, i do like how the pride flags kinda matched with each of the characters personalities if it made sense? there's more to be said about that but biggest example i can draw from is vatilis and crowven... vatilis, try as they might, wears their heart on their sleeve and has a hard time keeping their emotions down, so theirs is a sweater that compliments the rest of the outfit, but you can still see it. crowven is casual about it, if you bring it up he'll confirm it with pride and isn't as scared of hiding his emotions. his main alt sprite is him itching hsi nose with the pride bracelet hand...

also mary... the fact that until we see her most of what we've heard about her is the fact that she's "scary" and weird from netina, and that she doesn't like being called that from crowven. and when we actually meet her... she's so kind, out of everyone in the game she has the most decorated, personality-filled room, and is generally just a big sweetheart. also points. she and reggie are autism4autism ace4ace they're literally adorable together... who gave them the riiight oh my goddd /pos

anyway!!! :-3 i really like games that subvert your expectations both narratively and aesthetically. which sucks, because i don't see it done often. but??? oh my god here for sweethearts filled that niche perfectly... the genuine suprise i felt hearing them mention "hunger" until i realized... the protagonist never mentioned anything beyond "i'd feel nice" to why they wanted that connection... and then i was pleasantly surprised by the twist that the protag was here to feed off of the heartbreak ooooh my god... genuinely everything i had building up for the dance stopped in the best way possible.

like the signs were pointing towards natina being the secret killer, but... reginald being the supposed killer the ghost saw was actually the first witness of the crime, and twyla actually being the one to commit the murder? and how, once you realize this, it's already too late?

and twyla being onto us the whole time... asking us if we eat in our room at all, having gunther distract us when she literally said she just needed him out of the way for a little bit to get his keys, which she could have easily done without us. once you get that information, so many events prior make so much sense! hell, some of the incorrect dialogue makes sense! of course we'd accidentally slip up, we're hungry and desperate!! its just .... ooo eated. pun intented.

anyway the only real con i had about this game was that there wasn't a seperation between how you presented and what pronouns people used for you. but even then i'm fine with that!! theres only like two moments that i encountered it, its fairly casual and ultimately didn't take away from the experience. + i know it would've been hard to code... the game already has so much going for it in that department so i get it!! and plus... they were all conveniently terms i'm okay with being used for me so there's that hehe [oh they also all still use they/them for you no matter what. its just like a few instances of them calling you pretty so again; its okay and in fact im fine with it being kept that way tbh]

regardless!! i had so much fun with this game, please play it on itch.io its free and really entertaining. it takes a while to complete, it took me an entire afternoon, so keep that in mind. but i personally really liked it!!

bonus... the player character looks exactly like me/one of my sonas. HELP...

[lillotte17]

Stars Choose Their Lovers

AN: Because I enjoy making myself sad, I liked the thought of Aziraphale and Crowley having a relationship before the beginning, so I leaned into it a wrote a scene of them in the garden of Eden before Crowley manages to tempt the humans with any apples.

I might come back and add more scenes if the mood strikes me, because the concept is still good, but for now it's just a one shot. :)

~~~

The garden is nice.

Aziraphale supposes that was the entire point of the place, but that didn’t make it any less true. It hummed and bustled and sighed and rustled with everything new and green and growing. In Heaven every sound sang the same, and it always had, and it always would. Every angelic voice was pitched to match in flawless ethereal harmony forever. It was undeniably beautiful, but after a few millennia, its loveliness began to stagnate a bit in Aziraphale’s estimation. It seemed to sound an awful lot like emptiness.

Especially after the Rebellion.

It had not taken Aziraphale long to realize that he had no great fondness for war. There hadn’t been much of a choice about fighting in it, though. Heaven couldn’t simply roll over and let the demons take control of the universe, after all. He had apparently done his part well enough to get assigned to the Eastern Gate of Eden, but the victory had felt as hollow as their Heavenly choirs.

They had lost fellow angels. To both the Fall and the fight that followed. He knew he should not question the Almighty’s decisions. He knew that Lucifer and his ilk were traitors bent on destroying all of God’s new creations. And yet, whilst all the other angels reveled and rejoiced at the ruin and damnation of their former brethren, all Aziraphale could feel was grief.

Being in the garden is better.

None of the new animals make any serious demands of him. The whole of the Heavenly Host is largely focused on the initial pair of breeding humans and what they might be up to, which means that he has mostly been left to his own devices. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to stand in the vicinity of an apple tree and occasionally waggle his finger at anything that came too close. He likes to sit in the shade and feel the solid realness of the place surrounding him. He likes to smell the sweet freshness of the water and the wind and the plants. He likes that the light shining down on his face is warm and golden, and when the long days finally draw to a close and the sun sinks behind the garden walls, he likes to stand in silence and watch the stars.

He hopes that the humans are enjoying them.

The serpent arrives on the sixth hour of the sixth day.

Aziraphale never worked on the designs for any of the garden’s snakes, but he still knows that this one is different. It’s absolutely enormous for starters, but besides that, it also happens to exude an air of malevolence that none of the other occupants of Eden seem to possess. Its yellow gaze lacks the rest of the animals’ simple-minded innocence. And it keeps staring at him.

A demon, then.

Even with the war and its centuries of battles, Aziraphale has never actually killed anything. He would prefer to keep it that way. The peace between them is still fragile, the ink on the truce they signed still metaphorically wet upon the page, with both sides still bruised and aching. Itching for an excuse to lash out at each other once more. Any other angel might have seen this as a good enough reason to start something, but he does not have any direct orders to attack the members of the opposition, and so he won’t. The plants and the animals here are all still newly-made and delicate, and he is meant to be protecting them. Starting an all-out brawl in Eden would create yet another battlefield, and decimate the garden. But perhaps even more than that, he simply does not wish to fight anymore. Flaming sword be damned.

Aziraphale is to guard the Eastern Gate, and the Tree of Knowledge, and thwart the wiles of Evil. He can do all of that without smiting anything. Besides, the demon has not seen fit to do much more than skulk around, watching the humans and himself and the apple tree without doing much to interact with any of them.

It hardly seems worth killing them over.  

He half-heartedly shoos them away with the sword a few times, when it looks as though they might be about to try something, and the snake slithers off without complaint. No words exchanged. No threatening postures. Almost as if the demon is not particularly interested in fighting either.

It feels like a rather uneasy stalemate, but Aziraphale finds it much more tolerable than the alternative. By the end of the day, he is tentatively hopeful that this is the way things will continue for some time. The pair of them circling each other, going through the motions of fulfilling their duties without ever actually landing a hit for either side.

And then the sun goes down, the humans go to sleep, and the serpent unfurls itself into a shape not so different from Aziraphale’s own.

The angel is standing on the wall, looking down into the garden. The demon steps out of the shadows of the trees below and tips their head back, angling their gaze towards the sky. They cut a strange, lanky, angular figure, and they move as though they haven’t used a pair of legs for getting around in quite a long time. The whole of them seems to sway as they walk, black wings stretched wide to help them keep their balance, brushing gently through the foliage as they go. Their robes are as dark as the surrounding night, and the angel might not have noticed them at all if it hadn’t been for their hair. Wild and bright and flickering behind them like the flame from Aziraphale’s sword.

Out in the open, the moonlight paints the edges their features in silver, and if the angel had actually needed to breathe, he might have been in real trouble, because the whole of him freezes on the spot.

Brow furrowed, lips parted slightly, and golden eyes wide with wonder and grief and unfathomable longing, the demon stares up at the stars with a face that Aziraphale had only ever thought to see again in dreams.

He should maintain his distance, he knows. He should hold himself away. But something in the center of his being is raw and wounded in a way he hasn’t felt since before the Rebellion, and when those brilliant yellow eyes finally slide down from the starlight and find him in the dark on the wall, he is fluttering down to join them before he can quite help himself.

The demon tilts his head at him curiously when he lands in the grass a few feet away, but they do not seem particularly afraid. They do not threaten him, but they do not greet him, either. They do not call him by his name.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asks at last, having thought of nothing better to fill the gaping silence between them.

The demon shrugs carelessly.

“Head office just wants to keep the playing field even, I reckon. Prove that even though we lost, we’re not gone. Got to keep the Almighty on her toes. Or something like that, I dunno. She probably doesn’t even have toes.”

Aziraphale manages not to roll his eyes, but it is a near thing.

“No, I meant what are you doing here?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! Why did they send you here, instead of…someone else?”

The demon laughs, and it is a sharp, mocking sound.

“Who else should they have sent instead?” They wonder.

‘Someone I didn’t know. Someone I didn’t-’

“Oh, never mind!” He snaps at them instead, heat rising in his face. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re a demon.”

“You thought that Hell might send someone up here who wasn’t?”

“No, of course not, I meant-” He nearly bites down on his own tongue to stop the sentence from completing itself. He meets their gaze. Holds it longer than he should. Looking for traces of lost things. A hint of deep brown in a field of yellow. “Do you…know who I am?”

“Course I do!” The demon grins toothily. Aziraphale’s throat tightens as surely as if they had wrapped all ten of their long fingers around it and squeezed. “You’re the Angel of the Eastern Gate. God’s chosen little cherub to mind the Tree of Knowledge. Very important, I must say. Very imposing. You must have made quite an impression with the right people during the war.”

He is not certain if he feels more staggered by disappointment or annoyance, but his wings droop just the same. He glances away. Tugging at the sleeves of his tunic in agitation, floundering a bit as he struggles to think of a reason not to leave.

“You say that, but you don’t seem to be particularly intimidated by me.” He notes glumly.

“Hm, should I be?”

“I am the one with a sword,” he reminds them.

“And are you going to use it on me?” The demon wonders with a wide, curling grin.

Aziraphale makes a face.

“Well, It would serve you right if I did!”

They laugh at him, not sounding the least bit cowed. There’s no meanness in it this time, though. None of their earlier mockery. If anything, they seem genuinely amused. Golden eyes catching specks of starlight, reflecting their delight.

He opens his mouth, their name bright and burning on the tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of it, in the end. Purses his lips tightly and swallows it back down. The fallen angels had lost their names along with their grace and…everything else. It wouldn’t be right to use it now.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?” He asks instead, sounding terse and feeling haggard. “The humans are both sleeping, you’ve got no one to lure in with one of your evil schemes.”

“Oh, I dunno,” the demon shrugs again, still smiling, “There’s always you, isn’t there?”

Aziraphale stiffens, expression souring exponentially.

“That is not funny,” he huffs, sticking his chin out and puffing himself up a little as he turns away. He stretches his wings wide, intending to retake his position up on the wall. The demon takes a half step closer, edging around him before he can get away.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that, alright?” they say in a rush, holding up their hands in a gesture of peace, “Nothing in my job description involves tarnishing anybody’s halo, I’m just here to ruffle some feathers, that’s all. And…”

“And?” 

 Their gaze slides back up towards the sky.

“And I wanted to see…”

Aziraphale follows their line of sight. It really is quite beautiful. The colors are not nearly as vivid as the view from the nebula he remembers them making when they first met, but it is certainly nothing to turn one’s nose up at.

“You wanted to see the stars?”

“Nng, well… Yeah.” They grunt, looking a bit uncomfortable about it and scratching a spot on their nose. “Believe it or not, the view from Hell leaves a lot to be desired.”

“You don’t say.”

The stand together in silence for a time. The demon watching the heavens. The angel watching them in turn.

“You know… You can see even more of them from the wall.” Aziraphale mentions casually, finally turning away and spreading his wings again to fly off.

“Was that an offer?” The demon wonders.

“It was a statement,” he replies coolly, “What you decide to do with that information is entirely up to you.”

Without a second look back, Aziraphale flaps his wings and takes off. It is a short flight back to his initial perch, but he makes sure to keep his eyes fixed on the empty wilderness beyond the garden walls. He doesn’t wish to give the impression that he is hoping for the demon to follow him up, after all.

Barely a minute passes before a fluttering of dark feathers has the demon landing deftly on the wall beside him. They give a low appreciative whistle, turning this way and that as they try to look in every direction at once. Aziraphale fights the urge to smile.

“Well, you certainly weren’t lying about the view from up here.”

“I never lie,” Aziraphale sniffs, “I’m an angel.”

“Of course not,” they smirk, “Otherwise you’d be just like me, wouldn’t you?”

“Well…that is…” He trails off, but the demon seems to have gone back to looking at the stars, so it doesn’t seem to matter much that he is lacking a witty reply. The yearning has crept its way back into their expression, and Aziraphale aches to see it despite himself.

“Do you…remember anything at all from when you were an angel?” he wonders.

“Mm, I remember… Not much, honestly.” They confess with a deep exhale of breath they had no need to be holding. “Just enough for it to hurt. Which was the point, I imagine.”

“They said it was meant as an act of mercy.” Aziraphale says without much conviction.

“Did they, now?” they chuckled dryly, “And does that seem merciful to you?”

“I don’t know,” he admits with a shake of his head, “I suppose it is kinder not to remember all the things you must have lost after the war. There are few things I would not mind forgetting.”

“Even if those memories are what make you who you are?”

“Well, it isn’t as though it changes your soul, does it?” Aziraphale asks, giving them a sidelong glance.

“I’m not so sure,” they grunt in reply, “I mean…I know I’m not the same as the angel I was created to be. I can’t be. Not anymore.”

“But maybe someday… I mean, the Almighty could always change their mind.”

“Even if she did, I wouldn’t.” They hiss out, sharp and fierce. Aziraphale flinches slightly, and they relent somewhat. They sound both resigned and determined as they continue. “Choices were made. Bridges burned. The angel that I was before… They don’t exist anymore. They’re gone. Forever.”

Aziraphale feels cold and heavy. As if his wings could not even begin to bear his weight if he tried to fly off to somewhere else. He can tell that his expression is starting to crumple in on itself, so he turns away.

He remembers, even if they cannot. The way their face lit up with unbridled joy and wonder. Wings and arms and hair all bouncing with delight. Always moving, always reaching out with curiosity and optimism. Watching new nebulas and galaxies and solar systems bloom in the empty darkness of space. Watching him.

Soft hands. White feathers. Crisp clean robes. Gold-limed beauty in both word and silence. Questions and hope and creation. Everything gentle. Everything new.

They hadn’t put a name to anything. There was no word for it yet. It hadn’t been invented. But something about their companionship had struck the very chord of their existence, and the resonance of the harmony they made together felt strong enough to shake the very stars.

Or at least, Aziraphale thought it had.

“I…I’m sorry to hear that.” He squeezes out at last.

“Are you?” The demon wonders, peering at him curiously.

“I am.” He says quietly, refusing to meet their eyes.

“Well…stop it.” They say, their mouth twisting up into a frown. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

“Of course.”

“…”

“…”

“…You’re still doing it, aren’t you?” They accuse after a few more moments of awkward silence, narrowing their eyes at him.

“You are not the only one who lost things in the Great War.” Aziraphale snaps.

The demon blinks at him, slightly taken aback.

“No…I suppose I’m not.” They huff, shaking out their wings a little. “And you have to remember all of it.”

“I do.”

“I guess I’m the lucky one, then.” They chuckle darkly. “First time that’s ever happened.”

“How do you know that you are the lucky one if you can’t remember anything?”

“Nnngh, well… That’s…a fair point.” They concede with another long breath. “I still remember the stars, though. That’s something.”

‘The stars, but not me,’ Aziraphale smiles bitterly.

“They are beautiful,” he notes instead.

“I think I might have made them,” The demon tells him, golden eyes scanning across a billion specks of light, as if trying to gather every last one, “Not all of them, mind you, but a fair few. Mine were further out, I think. Hard to find them from here.”

“Well, so long as you don’t cause any trouble, you can look for your stars as long as you wish,” Aziraphale says.

“I think…that they remind me of someone.”

Aizraphale freezes.

“Oh, really?” He asks, striving to sound casual even as his voice rises a full octave. “Who?”

“Hm, not sure,” they hum, mostly to themselves, “I feel like I’d know them if I saw them, though.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, but the rest of his features remain remarkably unimpressed.   

“Would you indeed?”

“Nngh, pretty sure.” They pause for a moment to consider things. “Then again, might be best if I don’t. Probably lead to something messy. That’s the trouble when you don’t remember people. No way to know what the last thing you said to them was. Don’t much fancy the idea of some angel seeing my face and smiting me on sight because of some row I can’t remember.”

“You know that this person is an angel, then?” Aziraphale presses.

“Well, I know they must have been before, you know, all the fighting, anyway,” the demon shrugs, “We were all angels at one point, weren’t we? But I suppose they could have fallen, too. Doesn’t seem right, though. I think they would have found me already if they had.”

“Perhaps they were lost during the war?”

“…You might be right,” they agree, slowly, “But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I think…if they were completely gone, it would feel less…”

“Less what?”

“Less…everything.” They say, making a fluttering gesture with their hands to emphasize the point.

“I see,” Aziraphale says, even though he is not entirely certain that he does, “So, are you going to try looking for them? You star angel?”

They shake their head at him.

“Can’t see much point in it, really.” They tell him, a smile curling up the edges of their mouth that does not reach their eyes. “The angel they knew is gone, like I said. And so are my memories. I don’t even know what we were to each other. Best of friends. Worst of enemies. Annoying workmates. Doesn’t matter. It’s all gone. It’s too late to get any of it back, now. All that’s left is the stars.”

“All that’s left is the stars,” Aziraphale repeats quietly, a tremor running through his voice, “And even they will be fading out soon. It’s nearly dawn. Come on, we should both get back to the garden and go our separate ways before the humans wake up. Don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea. We are enemies, after all.”

The demon grins at him, wide and sharp and toothy, spreading their wings wide before fluttering back down into the greenery.

“Aren’t we just?”

[astranauticus]

ok one last post about the Project to truly exorcise it from my brain. just some process/design thoughts (also now that it's done if you want to read my liveblogged whinging for whatever reason here it is)

first off some stats because i kept stats like the nerd that i am:

time wise making this animatic took about 93.5 hours give or take (thanks procreate process replay) spread across exactly 2 months

anyway when i said i finished this project mostly through stubbornness and sunk cost fallacy this is what i meant lol like a lot of my thought process through this was just 'no way in hell am i letting some of these drawings disappear into my drafts forever'

on average each frame took about 2 hours 45 minutes but thats a bit of an overestimate since i forgot to count some of the animated bits from the first two lines (so id guess the actual number is more like.. 2 hours 20 minutes?)

btw that line with the starry apparition fading away? 12 hours total

the single longest and most painful frame to draw was the one of the crew walking through tu'narath (5 hours 30 minutes) because a. perspective b. architecture design c. for some reason i put a lot of detail into rendering the armour on all the githyanki i drew why on earth did i do that

(its especially painful bc that frame was one of the ones that didnt... feel like an important enough moment in the actual story of the show to be worth capturing the way the wish or even like, endellion is, i just needed to put that there for the storytelling flow or whatever of the animatic itself and it bothered me so much)

one other interesting little mishap was that i did all of these on canvas size 1080x720px (so that's why the youtube resolution isnt particularly high lmao) which is why procreate let me put an absolutely absurd amount of layers in one canvas (all 8 frames of with memories projected on the astral sea were done on one canvas. 159 layers) because the layer limit for that canvas size is 400 BUT. i accidentally started the starry apparition fade on an A4 canvas (my default canvas size for like all my normal fanart) and i only realised after finishing all the lineart and starting on colouring because i hit layer limit so i had to resize the canvas which did... interesting?? things to the lineart resolution

also if youre wondering how i drew K-LB that many times in something resembling timely fashion the answer is i sacrificed some... amount of sleep to 3d model and rig him in blender which. honestly? i consider it a roaring success

splitting the frames by bar was a Choice and certainly a choice ive.. had doubtsTM about but thats the kind of thing you cant really change without bringing the whole project crashing down so if the frames seem to move a bit too fast im so sorry there was really not much i could do there

idk if people actually noticed the very very tiny drawings of the crew moving around on the ship in the 4th line especially since they sometimes get obscured by the subtitles but the REASON for that is in my original drawings the subtitles went in the top left corner but they kept conflicting with other stuff so i just gave up and threw them to the bottom (also i originally included the chinese lyrics but then i got lazy lmao)

anyway that little detail like VR-LA angstily looking at the sea reminiscing about the JourneyTM and the crew sort of appearing along with the memories of their adventures together was one of those things that seemed SO COOL in my head but once i actually execute it its like. hmmmm not sure if that worked out the way you thought it would buddy. also the tiny crew was EXTREMELY hard to draw so put that down as another point in 'me subjecting myself to deeply painful and out there compositions for no good reason'

anyway i called this my magnum opus but i do actually have some thoughts about another one (a companion piece, if you will) for another song by the same band because now that i know what capcut can do im.. really itching to try something a little different because this like powerpoint presentation style? fully a product of me using iMovie as my only available video editing software for the past like 7 years of my life

[protect-namine]

final performance thoughts (kisa's route) and I guess just overall thoughts on the game.

the thing is, I did expect the final arc to be a bit (thematically) underwhelming because it's hard to follow up oh rama havenna when both the play and the lead up to it was perfectly executed. and I mean, I was right, but I'm still a little bit disappointed lol. I see what ishida and towada wanted to do with the "jack jeanne" role, and I was really hoping it would land hard during kisa's route. it didn't hurt the game, but it also just. could've been more.

some thoughts on sissia of the central nation:

great music, probably has some of the best costumes for the cast. jj being a visual novel definitely removes some of the showmanship but I understand how sissia would be amazing to see live. it's like if you watch a mix of the greatest showman and les miserables. the border performance is like if a circus performed on the barricade from les mis.

I'm sure ishida and towada was itching to write a greater message with sissia but they're at least aware that they're writing an otome game lol

I think because all the actors have already gone through their character development in previous arcs, the rehearsals seemed a bit too easy? sissia rehearsals have to accommodate seven routes, so I imagine there are individual conflicts in each LI route. but when it comes to kisa's route, neji didn't really give anyone a challenging role. I realize that my favorite element of the story is when actors struggle to connect with their character, and there wasn't much of that in kisa's route. and because kisa's route focuses on sissia's relationship with the kielce troupe instead of individuals, there is a loss of intimate character moments that usually make neji's plays so good

the conflict was more around quartz vs amber. it's nice, but man I kinda wish the winter performance rehearsals was saved for the final performance because having neji give every single quartz member challenging roles to overcome for the finale with the help of kisa acting as the glue that keeps them together? and them winning because of it? feels like a better way to show that "gear" metaphor they love to use

but I also prefer that mitsuki was the one doing that during the winter performance, so idk. I get it

(watsonian) you know, I was gonna say that I can't believe that neji thinks sissia is one of his best plays when oh rama havenna exists, but actually, that's very in character lmao. neji himself didn't understand what made oh rama havenna entertaining. he's a writer whose inspiration can sometimes work on a deeply unconscious level sometimes.

I also just realized what else was lacking in kisa's route. I wish there was more improv!!! every quartz play has an improv scene that's designed to go straight to the actor's heart. sure, sou did improvise his monologue and kisa did tsuki's line at the beginning, but it's not the saaaame. it's not the same as figaro riling up charles riling up mary, or rukiora/mitsuki's "that applies to you too", or neji and kisa reworking mukai's characterization the day before the performance without telling anybody. I wish someone had thrown an improv scene at sissia. or even better, maybe kisa met eyes with chui in the audience and went off-script.

I like the exploration of gender expression in the game, so I was disappointed that they didn't really do more with the jack jeanne role. they SAY it's a revolutionary concept in univeil but like. there isn't anything in the script in kisa's route that really highlights how she's neither/both jack or/and jeanne. again, doesn't really hurt the game and its overarching themes, but it just could've been more. it could've landed harder. maybe it's highlighted more in the other routes though (I have high hopes for mitsuki to at least touch on this), so we'll see.

the closest we get is mitsuki and mare's commentary on it, as well as the audience's, but like. that's outside perspective. the actual play itself doesn't really do anything about it? neither does kisa's voice acting lend itself to being ambiguous about gender, which was supposedly the goal. if anything, it was closer to her voice acting as maiden. I thought her voice acting for chicchi and charles were closer to what the jack jeanne role intended, but that's just me

but!! for all the finale lacked, chui made up for all of it. which is ironic, but really, there's like so many things going on with the neji/kisa/chui dynamic on a relationship and theme level. love whatever's going on with them. I am petitioning for sui ishida to write a side story where they're all amber students

anyway, kisa is a great protagonist and I'm really glad all her lines are voice acted because I don't actually self-insert that much in these games. going through the other routes will be painful because this is 80% common route, but I am also so glad the common route is long but sprinkled with a lot of flavor text (I finished one route and I've only gone through 21% of the text). very slow burn. I'm also the kind of person who usually would just do 1-2 routes and move on, but because the common route is so long, all of the characters have endeared themselves to me, so now I do want to go through all the routes. amazing.

but I have to make the executive decision to do neji and mitsuki's route last because if I finish them first, I really will probably not do anyone else's routes. to me, neji is the deuteragonist of the game even if he's not intended to be.

[valthevalkyrie]

The Philtre (4)

The Run. The Hunt. The Choosing. The Devotion. A series of events traditionally used to test skill, wits, honor, loyalty, virility, and survival. If you can’t catch your Omega, or any Omega for that matter, you were never worthy of them to begin with. Curtis has his eyes on the Omega who's been Unclaimed for the past seventeen years.

Pairing: alpha!Curtis x omega!reader (tall, mid 30s) Word Count: 3.6 k SeriesWarnings: NONCON/DUBCON, A/B/O, canon style violence, tall!reader, reader is 6', Curtis is 6'4", language, fighting, explicit smut, rough sex, hate sex, possessiveness, jealousy, probably incorrect descriptions of archery type things A/N: I'm so sorry this is nine months late!! i got stuck on a part and lost my muse. But good news (?) I was laid off last week and will have a couple months free to write more. Special thanks to @brunetteavenger for all your kind words on the last chapter, I'd look at them all the time to motivate myself. Hope you enjoy 💕

This is a (soft!dark/dark) fic, and contains the usual elements and themes in dark!fics. It is explicit in every sense of the word. PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOUVE READ AND UNDERSTAND ALL WARNINGS.

masterlist series masterlist

They trade shifts after four hours, the moon’s light making its way through the foliage, making the forest floor sparkle like reflections in the water. After what feels like 30 minutes she finds herself being woken up again by Yona.  “Wake up,” she whispers. “Someone is coming.”

“Handle them.”

“No,” Yona taps the center of her chest. “Something’s not right.”

She sighs. As tired as she is, she sits up and mentally prepares herself to fight again. Her best student was proving to be a not so great companion for a Run. She drugged herself and was now refusing to handle intruders even though she was more than capable. But she had to have faith in the girl’s Intuition as it was one of the strongest she’d ever encountered. “Make sure all the weapons are in the tent, then stay inside.”

Although her eyes itch from lack of sleep, she makes room for Yona who comes back in soon after, weapons in hand. When she goes to take the girl’s place outside, she’s pulled back. “No. Something’s not right. You must stay inside.”

With the help of the moon, she could see the young girl’s fear. She can’t help the confused furrow of her brow. Why would she need to hide? She understood Yona’s hesitation due to her lack of experience, but it made no sense for her to be hiding as well.      

“Can you sense how many there are?”

Yona just shakes her head.

Her mentor scratches at her ear and looks down, contemplating her choices. She was never one to cower away from anything, although she eventually nodded her head. With every pull of the zipper, less and less light made its way into the tent. When she zips the tent shut, the darkness is almost overwhelming. It didn’t take long for their eyes to adjust to the darkness and although there wasn’t much light coming in, they could make each other out. 

“Be sure to focus on your breathing and calm your heart. Let them think we’re sleeping.”

She hears a twig break in the distance as she finishes instructing Yona. The girls strain their ears, listening out for the intruder’s next move. They can’t smell them at this distance, so they’re not sure yet what their designation is. 

Things are quiet for a while and she can’t tell where the intruder has gone until she hears the shift of leaves on branches at what should be the entrance to their little clearing. If she weren’t so quiet right now, she’d have missed it. 

Whoever they are, they're light on their feet. She can’t hear them walking, but she can sense them getting closer. 

The feeling of being watched starts to set in. She knows they can’t see her, but eyes are on their tent all the same.

The closer they get, the more a bitter twang begins to settle in her nose. They must be an alpha. An arrogant alpha, because the more they approach the tent, the heavier their footsteps get. 

Either they think they’re too asleep to wake up to the sounds of their footsteps or they just don’t care at this point if the girls wake up. 

The footsteps slowly but surely circle the tent at a distance, and with every lap they get closer until they stop at the entrance to the tent. The older of the two slowly gets a grip on her hatchet as they wait with baited breath for the entrance to open. 

As they wait, the heat in the tent increases, no breeze to filter through as their temperatures rise. The girls are sweating, one shaking with fear and the other with fury. Yona twitches violently, a sign that her cramps are worsening. Her hand searches for her godmother’s and when she finds it, she squeezes it tight. The older woman can hear Yona begin to pant as the pain builds. In an effort to make sure no sound escapes the young girl, she redirects the hand holding hers to Yona’s mouth. Right as their fingers brush over her cheek, a clear whine escapes and everything stills.  

The intrusion to the tent never comes. Instead, the footsteps begin to circle the tent once again except they got further out. Over and over again the mystery alpha circles them, breathing harder every time. Farther and closer, farther and closer. Just when they think the intruder might have left, they start their pacing once again. Teasing them, surely knowing they’re awake at this point. 

On the latest rotation the footsteps stop once again at the mouth of the tent and the harsh breathing outside stops. Instead of opening it, the alpha presses their face against the fabric and takes in a deep breath, deep enough that the fabric makes an imprint of their nostrils. 

Enough bullshit, the older omega thinks and slams the handle of the hatchet into the nose of the intruding alpha. 

They cry out and she rushes to open the tent, Yona’s efforts to pull her back useless. When she makes it out she sees a familiar face, their scent hitting her at full force. 

“Franco.” There was a reason she couldn’t tell who it was, the old man’s usual scent was as bitter and rank as they come. “Why are you here?”

“The same reason any of us are here,” he gurgles through a broken nose. “To find a mate.”

While her godmother had a respectful reputation, Franco’s was anything but. He had a history of mates who died young, only two produced him heirs. One died young and the surviving one was no better than him. No one who had any self respect associated themselves with them. 

Until Wilford took over the clan. 

He gave Franco the Elder and Franco the Young positions of enforcement, giving them the freedom to harass who they liked with minimal repercussions. The power had gotten to their heads.

“If I remember correctly my last words to you were that if I were to see you again, I would kill you.”

“Your exact words were, ‘if you try to mate me again I will kill you’. I’m not here for you, you’ve aged out of your value.” His gaze settles behind her. “I’m here for her.”

She does nothing to hide her noise of disgust. “That’s not going to happen.”

“The code of honor dictates I be given a fair try.”

She turns to look at the girl who is sweating profusely and clutching her stomach. Yona was in no shape to fight. Franco was right, the code of honor gave him the right to a fair try, but she couldn’t risk the young girl’s life. If the fight didn’t kill her, a life with him would.

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Oh please,” she sneers. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”

“Let us not forget who left you that scar,” he indicates to the one on her eye, “in your prime.”

“I was seventeen.” She gave a dark laugh. “I was nowhere near my prime.” She considers him for a moment. “Leave now, and I give you my word that I will not kill you.”

“I would rather you give your word to let me have a go at the youngling.” He takes a step closer as he wipes at the blood coming out of his nose.

She sneers, “take one more step and-”

Yona calls her name. When she turns, she sees the girl in obvious pain but with a fire in her eyes. 

What her mentor doesn’t know is that Franco the Elder had been following her around their town, whispering profanities at her. Dark promises of how she would be his and all that he would do to her. 

It ends tonight.

Everything she had done until this point was in an effort to perform without the looming greatness of her godmother’s reputation. Regardless of her failure in that venture, she knew she had to do this for herself. Her intuition had made her aware of Franco’s lurking even when he wouldn’t approach her. 

“I’ll have a look at his offering.”

“Oh, I have no offering,” he sneered. “I prefer the combat method of The Choosing.”

With obvious effort, she straightens her posture and her hand leaves her abdomen. “Fine.”

“Yona, no.” Her godmother turns to her. “There is no need to prove your abilities. I know how capable you are.”

“This isn’t for you. It’s for me.”

There is obvious conflict in her face as she deliberates. She’s close to saying no and fighting Franco herself, when she sees the determination in Yona’s face. 

“Very well, then.” She turns to Franco. “You may have your chance.” 

Franco grins, his teeth red with blood.

“No weapons. You fight as equals.”

Franco makes a show of throwing down his only weapon, a hunting knife. Yona had no weapons on her to begin with.

She moves in front of her mentor, taking a deep breath to center herself. As she settles into a fighting stance, Franco’s grin widens. He follows her movements in an exaggerated manner.

“I can smell your cunt from here, little one.”

Yona says nothing, adjusting her stance.

“You’d best prepare yourself for a life with me.”

Still nothing.

“I can’t wait to feel your virgin cunt squeeze me tight.”

She pays him no mind and focuses on the task at hand and doing her best to push aside the pain. While she made a fool of herself the entire Run so far-ignoring common sense and years of training-she knew better than to make the first move. 

So she waited while filth spewed from his lips. The longer she waited and said nothing, the angrier he got. 

“You stupid little bitch. If you thought my other mates had it bad, just wait until I get my claim on you.” And he swung.

She ducked and jabbed at his face but he dodged the hit. She set out with another hit but he grabbed her hand, pulling her close while slapping her in the face. 

The hit was enough to make her lose her sense of direction for a moment and he took advantage and pulled her by her hair. He pulled her back to his front and took a deep breath of her hair. 

“I knew you wouldn’t put up much of a fight. I knew your dirty little cunt wanted me.” He inhaled her scent again and groaned. “You’re the sweetest one, yet.”

Yona took advantage of his distraction and slammed her elbow into his diaphragm, winding him. As soon as he let go she spun around and punched him in the face. Right hook. Left hook. Uppercut. 

She takes him by the shoulders and slams her knee into his abdomen and lets him fall to the ground, wheezing. 

Yona bends down. “You may be bigger but you’re old and slow. I reject your offering and deny you my devotion.”

As she turns to walk away, he grabs her foot and twists it while bringing her down to the ground with him. Yona’s chin hits the ground on her way down and the pain of the fall and her heat blinds her while Franco’s hands wrap around her neck. 

“I never yielded, you stupid fucking cunt.”

Yona’s hands scramble trying to catch his but he just squeezes harder, straddling her legs and pinning her down. 

Yona’s godmother watches on in horror, waiting for the girl to break free from Franco’s hold. But she doesn’t. As the seconds wear on and she sees Yona’s face start to turn blue, she knows she must throw out the code of honor if she wants to save the life of her ward.

She tightens her hold on her hatchet and rushes forward, slamming the handle into the side of his head. When he falls over, she adjusts her grip and swings down with as much force as she can, lodging the ax in his skull.

Dropping next to Yona, she moves to give the breath of life to the youngling. A few tense moments and frantic breaths later and Yona begins to cough. 

Her godmother sobs in relief and mutters a quick and thankful prayer to the Mother. 

About fifteen minutes later Yona is sat near the campfire with a blanket from her pack wrapped around her. The temperature had seemed to drop dramatically after her close call with death. Her heat had intensified, making her feel cold and the sweat on her body only made her feel colder. She was borderline delirious.

“How are you feeling?”

Yona whimpers as another cramp wracks through her body. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Well, our heats have been provoked and you haven’t had many to begin with. They get easier to deal with over time.” She places a hand on Yona’s knee. “You did very well for your first Choosing fight.”

“Didn’t yield,” Yona groaned.

“That aside, you did very well. I’m proud of you.” She runs a hand over Yona’s sweaty hair, making her way to her back to give her a few soothing rubs. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

The older omega makes her way to the bags. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she double and triple checked them.

“Where’s all the food?” There’s no answer. “Yona. Did you eat all of the food?”

The girl’s whimper serves as her answer. 

She sighs. “For the love of the gods, Yona.” 

The only time she could’ve had to eat what was left of the food was during her short watch, her cravings a result of her heat. It could also have been the nerves. Gods know the girl had been wracked with them since the beginning. 

She pinched her nose, took a deep breath and looked back at the girl. “Alright. What’s done is done. We can only move forward. I will go hunting.”

“D’you wan’me to come?”

“Absolutely not. You can barely stand. You can barely talk. I need you to stay in camp.” As she gathered her weapons Yona doubled over again in pain. “Come. Sit here.” She helped Yona sit closer to the fire. “Did you bring your bow?” The girl shook her head. She sighs. “Here. Take mine.”

“How’ll you hunt?”

“Don’t worry about that. I want you to stay focused. Anyone comes in, you shoot first, ask questions later.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She grabs her pack and heads over to Franco’s body, struggling a bit to take the hatchet from his skull. Pinning his head down with her foot, she yanks it out. “Now, be sure to drink plenty of water while I’m gone, don’t leave the camp, and for the love of the gods do not fall asleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She nods and turns her back to the girl. Her chest is tight and her shoulders tense. She doesn’t like the idea of leaving the girl alone. Although she did a good enough job fighting off Franco the Elder, the fact that her ankle was most likely fractured and her heat was getting worse worried her. She could only pray to the Mother that Yona had enough strength to fight through the pain once more if anyone breached their camp. 

She can’t help but compare Yona’s first Choosing fight with her own during her first Philtre.

She’d turned down a few offerings for The Choosing by the time an alpha decided her first answer wouldn’t be enough. 

He was a belligerent old fool who had been tired of being alone for so long. He demanded she fight with him. And fight with him she did. Her anger got the best of her and she killed him before he had a chance to yield. 

She knew of the rumors of her stringing up alpha’s intestines like a garland and placing their heads on spikes. It was mostly true. It was not her promised who became her first kill, it was the old man. Her fury over her promised not coming for her as they had agreed had consumed her. In her mind, she was at war with any and all alphas who dared approach her with no respect in mind. 

Thank the gods Yona turned out so different to her. Sure, she was different enough that she made incredibly poor decisions in the heat of the moment, but she was different enough that she couldn’t see her turning out as bloodthirsty as she had become. 

As she makes her way through the wood, she goes surveying the ground, trying to find any kind of tracks. It’ll be a little harder to hunt without her bow and arrow, but she should be able to make some traps.

Disregarding the deer tracks she finds, she instead zeroes in on the rabbit tracks, moving slowly once she finds its burrow. Retrieving the necessary materials, she constructs a simple snare. Once that’s done, she settles down a ways away and waits and hopes it doesn’t take too much time. She doesn’t want to leave Yona alone for too long in her condition. 

After waiting for about ten minutes, she hears a rustling behind her. Turning her head, she catches a whiff of alpha. Rolling her eyes, she stays sitting, hoping they don’t notice her so she can have peace while waiting for her food.

It doesn’t work out in her favor. 

A breeze passes by and she shuts her eyes in frustration as she hears the footsteps stop once her scent reaches them. They slowly make their way to her and as they get closer, she can make out several pairs of footsteps. 

Eventually they make their way to her, surrounding the tree she’s sitting against. She pays them no mind, inspecting the dirt underneath her fingernails.

One of them calls out her name. 

She looks up and can’t help the smirk that twists her lips. “Franco the Younger.”

“How are you doing on this fine evening?”

“I’m doing just fine. Just waiting around.”

“For what,” a woman asks.

“For an alpha like one of us, obviously,” Franco answers. “I’m not sure if any of you are aware, but we are in the presence of the longest reigning Unclaimed in the clan.”

Sparks of interest erupt in the eyes of the other four alphas.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Frankie, but I’m planning to round out my Unclaimed years at an even eighteen. Possibly even twenty.”

“You just haven’t had someone like one of us to try for your hand.”

“I’ve rejected many types of alphas over the years. Your father being one of them.”

“Ah, but he was close,” Franco traced the shape of her scar over his own eye. 

“That’s fair,” she nods. “How about I make the same deal with you that I did with your father not too long ago. Leave now, and I give you my word that I will not kill you.”

Franco and his goons laugh. “There is no way my father took that deal.”

“You’re right,” she takes her pack off her lap and situates it next to her. “That’s why he’s dead.”

“Impossible,” he growls.

“You see this blood?” She lifts her hatchet. “It’s certainly not mine coating it.”

His lip curls in fury. “This bitch is mine.” 

Slowly rising to her full height, the others could not have done a worse job at hiding their shock when they all took a step back. Caked in the blood from earlier, covered by the darkness of the night, and six feet tall, she was sure she was quite the sight.

She places her ax in its holster at her thigh, making sure the blade is covered. Walking out into the light of the moon, she makes sure to bump shoulders with him as she walks past. “Let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”

Like father, like son, Franco the Younger pulls out a large hunting knife.

“I’m going to gut you like a fish,” he growls.

“I’d like to see you try.”

They circle each other for a beat before he lunges for her. She grabs his hand, throwing an elbow to his face and turning into his body before slamming an elbow to his gut.

Disarming him as he catches his breath, she turns and jams the knife into his neck. His eyes are wide as they look into hers, mouth gaping as he falls to his knees. She places her foot at his chest and kicks him back to pull the knife out of his neck. 

As he bleeds out onto the forest floor she turns to the others.

Everything stills for a moment.

An animal squeals in the distance.

The alphas rush at her and she slits the neck of the one closest to her. She spins out of the way of his falling body and uses that momentum to throw the knife into the chest of the next one. 

The third alpha tackles her to the ground. She throws a punch to her face and tries to push it back. The alpha tries to wrap her hands around the omega’s neck and they struggle a bit before the omega takes a deep breath and goes limp. This gave the woman on top an opening to choke her.

The alpha’s distraction gave the omega the chance to reach for the ax strapped to her thigh. With a practiced hand, she quickly unsheathed it and swung at the woman on top of her.

Blood spattered her face as the ax struck the alpha’s head. She quickly pushed her off before looking for the last alpha. 

He was laying face first on the ground with an ax in his back. 

As she rushed to her feet, a tall figure came out of the shadows.

Her eyes widened. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t caught the new scent in the air. “Curtis,” she breathes.

They stare at each other for a beat before he breaks the silence.

“Why’d you tell the kid I was dead?”

A/N: You have no idea how long I've been wanting to write that last part 😩 It was one of the first scenes that popped into my mind once I had the series idea fleshed out. Please, please, please tell me what you think, I'd love to know your reaction to that last bit lol

P.S. can anyone teach me how to make skinnier dividers that have a transparent background? mine never work no matter how hard i try lol

[demonfox38]

Completed: Quest: Brian's Journey

Question: have you ever unironically loved something a majority of people consider awful?

Like, I don't mean a shitty person. I’m talking crappy media. LIke, is there at least one movie that was featured on "Mystery Science Theater 3000" or "Rifftrax" that you would watch without jokes? Do you have any cheap sci-fi novels or trashy paperback novels that are falling apart from how often you've re-read them? Have you ever seen a kid's show that was clearly just a ploy for marketing toys and loved it regardless?

I'm bringing this up because, in order to talk about "Quest: Brian's Journey," I'm going to have to talk about "Quest 64." Like, what I find genuinely special about that game, and why I consider this game's existence a miracle.

If you can't understand loving garbage, you're not going to get anything else out of this evaluation.

"Quest: Brian's Journey" is a 2000 Gameboy Color RPG that takes the root function and plot of the Nintendo 64 game "Quest 64" and "demakes" it for the lower-powered hardware. In some fashion, it could be considered a sibling to titles like the GameBoy version of "Metal Gear Solid," "Resident Evil Gaiden," and "Perfect Dark." Those titles were at least associated with games from the PlayStation and Nintendo 64 era that people generally considered good. The predecessor for "Quest: Brian's Journey," on the other hand…

Look. I know why "Quest 64" is bagged on. In an era bursting at the seams with FMV cutscenes, nascent voice acting, and long, complex storylines, "Quest 64" is downright rudimentary. Would it have done okay, had it been released at the beginning of the Nintendo 64's life? Maybe. But, in 1998? In the era of Squaresoft's indominable reign in the west? It was—and to some extent remains—a joke. Doubly so after more successful Nintendo 64 releases (particularly the big gun "The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time", released only a handful of months later.)

Would it have been nice to have some level of cutscenes and puppetry in "Quest 64"? Absolutely. Maybe something more than a text crawl for an ending? Duh! "Quest 64" is a game released in a beta state, desperately needing at least six months of polish before it should have been dropped on the planet. But, for all its perceived flaws, I don't hate "Quest 64." In fact, I very much enjoy it! The game is lively, colorful, pleasantly varied in character and enemy design, and relaxing to play. For me, it scratches the same itch as archery or pool. It's a game that values positioning, accuracy, and exploration. All good stuff! Drop on top of that a leveling system that augments stats based on your actions and enemy reactions, and grinding suddenly becomes both rewarding and addicting. Like, no matter how you screw up, at least you'll be making progress.

Despite liking "Quest 64," it took me a long time to hear of its follow up games. (Yes, that's right, games. But one is just a "Dig Dug" kind of clone, so don't get too excited.) Like, I only heard about "Quest: Brian's Journey" a few years ago when it was featured in an RPG Limit Break race. I'm still baffled it took me almost 20 years to hear about it. Like, hell. Am I really that much out of the loop, or was there just nothing in terms of marketing for this game? I mean, I'd believe that, but I still feel weird for being so clueless as to its existence. Talk about totally missing your audience.

I suppose when your audience is one of out a million people, someone's going to slip through the cracks.

Despite being a rudimentary port, "Quest: Brian's Journey"'s plot ends up being more complex than its predecessor. The beats are mostly the same, with the hero leaving his monastery home to pursue his father across his Celtic-inspired homeland, acquiring magical stones and driving off monsters and demons in the process. However, more effort has been put into illustrating each plot point, clearly and precisely spelling out or expanding each beat of the story like…I don't know. A real video game! Additional boss fights are also present, giving a little bit of an extra surprise to players of the first game. Granted, it's not the most complex adventure in the world, but it gives way more personality and explanation to characters than before. Like, I can better understand Colleen's hatred for the pirate Kiliac, and Leonardo's whole deal makes way more sense.

Also, the fate of Brian's father is 100% not missable this time! So, hooray for clarity! Could have done without the bit where a 14-year-old princess is being forced into matchmaking, though. That's just weird and creepy.

Most of the environments from the previous game are here, minus Glencoe Forest. (Like, I can see where it roughly was, but it's just tiles instead of its own area.) While not a one-to-one map recreation from the previous game, it's parsable enough to know what is what. Most of the difficulty navigating them is due to the maze-like structure of most environments. Granted, missing treasures is not that big of a deal. The game is very generous with item drops in battles, and you'll easily max out your spirit statistics before you find them all in game.

It's wild how easy it is to overclock Brian in this game. Like, it's mostly the same leveling system as before, taking into account a player's actions and suffered damage to augment health, MP, evasion, defense, and the aforementioned spirit pool. In "Quest 64", it would take days to fully max out your statistics, with players often finishing their game at 40-43 spirits per element out of the max of 50. Here? It all accumulates way faster. Like, I easily hit the 50 max spirits per element before reaching Brannoch Castle (the penultimate dungeon), and I was able to max out HP just casually goofing around after beating the game. The only stat that was a pain in the ass (literally) to level up was defense, and even that is easy to push up to at least 70.

The battle system is intuitive, especially for people who have played the previous game. It's just A to whack with a stick, B to line up spells, and Start to use items. About the only curveball here is the way you learn spells. Previously, "Quest 64" only cared about a single element's level before granting you spells. "Quest: Brian's Journey" wants the player to be more balanced with their element spread, requiring certain levels in each element to grant the player a spell. For example, the first healing spell used to be granted at a Water level of 6. Now, it requires a split between two or three levels between Water and Earth. Not exactly the worst trick, considering how a skilled "Quest" aficionado is already dumping stats into those elements first, but it's good to know about.

Honestly, all of the elements are balanced much better in this game. Like, I watched a Wind Cutter 3 easily dump 200+ damage into a boss, killing it off in two turns. Absolute improvement!

In terms of enemy design and placement, it's mostly as previously experienced. Like, there are some augments, like how fast Merrows can be. But, again, if you know the first game, you've got this one. The only real bastard here is King Beigus, who can easily drop 150-180 HP if he wants. Otherwise, it's very manageable. Possibly, abusable, if you know how to play around spell area limitations!

Something's not quite right with the top-down perspective. Like, I appreciate a column-based spell hitting as high as it does, but it wouldn't look right in 3D. Imagine a geyser of water shooting 6 feet to the right instead of 6 feet vertically, and you'll get what I mean.

The translation for this game is off as well. Some enemy names and spells are mistranslated (most notable "Vanpire's Touch," which was correctly translated as "Vampire's Touch" previously.) I suppose having different companies publishing this series will have details like that slip through the cracks. THQ, Konami, Sunsoft—what a weird mix! Any port in a storm, huh, Imagineer?

I'm honestly surprised that this series' developing company is still around, as of 2023. "Medabot" money is strong, I guess!

Aesthetically, the game looks and sounds like what a competent Nintendo 64 to GameBoy Color port would be. Even acknowledging the limitations there, I do think it is a little visually disappointing. A lot of the spritework is small, so some character and monster details are lost to the compression. It's also limited palette-wise, leaving the previously vibrant environment and characters mostly some shade of cream or brown. I've got no complaints for the musical composition, though. Like, yeah, there's still a natural limit being hit. But, it went from a mid-tier midi arrangement to a competent square-wave arrangement with every tune still being recognizable, so I can't bitch about that! Very pleasant.

If you found "Quest 64" to be an enjoyable experience, "Quest: Brian's Journey" is a natural and easy recommendation to make. Granted, that's like saying, "If you enjoy making taxidermy arrangements using the corpses of squirrels, you'll find doing the same with mice to be equally enjoyable!" At least, to some people. I suspect there is an overlap between players who liked this game and would like the NES games "The Magic of Scheherazade" or "Faria: A World of Mystery and Danger," but again, I may be speaking in tongues.

Do you want an old fantasy game with an easy and quirky battle system that lasts about 10 hours? If so, here you go! Enjoy getting into mouse taxidermy.

I mean, there are worse ways to develop your skills.

[sm0k1ng-k1lls]

right. my first writing here. please dont shit on me its my first time posting my writing here. and this is the first draft soo

TW:$h, gender dysphoria, queerphobia, religious trauma, implied smoking

artist

four.

my mum lathers lotion over my body after a bath, saying what a ‘pretty girl’ i was with ‘smooth supple skin’. the cold and slimy lotion stays on my skin, prickly and wet, and i swear to never apply lotion, ever.

eight.

we sit in class, you and i, hands touching each others’, my short hair sticks out like hay bales and your long hair runs down your shoulders, velvety and soft. our fingers touch our arms as we take gel pens and glitter pens and decorate the canvases with splashes of colour.

thirteen.

red is my favourite colour. it dances around, elegant like a ballerina and tears prick at its eyes as Swan Lake nears a melancholy minor. the pain is nearly invisible with the spectacle, the appetizer to a four course meal. it burns like a fire on a cold winter night, its warmth enveloping me in a hug.

sixteen.

red does not go well with skin. it leaves traces on my beautiful unmarked canvas, the ladder like rungs leading to a void of emotionless emotions, black and white and grey but with darker greys and lighter greys. i have to draw curtains over my once-pretty canvas. maybe its time to clean up, put away my paint and brushes, return the key of the studio to the landlord and resign from tenancy. deep down i know despite this i might reopen the art studio.

eighteen.

i sit in the shower with my canvas torn and broken, my skin raw and tender. i scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub. i still can feel lotion on my skin. i have to wash it away. i have to wash it away tears prick at the corner of my eyes, i move a hand to wipe them away.

nineteen.

i sit on the surgical chair, arm held out as the artist inks my skin with intricate patterns and designs, they say beauty is pain but it isn't because how can i say that when i’ve been ugly my whole life? my arms are covered in inked skin, each centimeter of skin covered in tattoo ink, the inks covering up the shame i have carried. i am running out of space but my body isn't a canvas to drive a knife into so i succumb.

sixteen.

your pen draws designs on my hand during art class, us sharing earphones as sad screaming songs drown out sad screaming us and we are tired because our whole lives we have been screaming and yelling and calling out but all you do is stick your fucking fingers in your ears and play pretend. we are tired. our throats are raw and tender and itch like hell and our voices are raspy, we cannot scream so we take pens and write and draw and mark our skin with our cries. that night, the picture of a guitar plugged into an amplifier stays on my hand while i shower, sticking out my hand to prevent water washing it off.

thirteen.

it is suffocating me, my skin. it wraps around me and squeezes me tight, squeezes any ounce of air i have left in my black lungs. in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. i shake and shake and shake. i cannot breathe and i cannot see. the tight fabric crushes me in a hug. i try to draw in a breathe, wheezing. the rough fabric scratches my skin, makes it red and sore. it is not my skin and i cannot breathe.

twenty-three

the hospital air is sterile and stale. the fluorescent bright white light stabs my eyes and the monotone sound of beeping fills the air. i grin tiredly. finally, at last. under the hospital gown are bandages and under the bandages are two scars, jagged and unsymmetrical, right on my chest. i am me, my skin is a canvas and i ink it in whatever i want. my canvas is mended, the hole in the middle tenderly patched up.

sixteen

we take our glitter pens, red, purple, pink, orange, blue, grey. the teacher drones on and on about ‘discipline’ and ‘tidiness’ and ‘morale’. i only know black and white. but artists mix colours, don't they? greys and whites and blacks, all different tints and shades and colours. right equals wrong and wrong is right but in the name of Pastor i am wrong, a sinner and that i’ll rot in the depths of hell, orangey red tongues tasting my tainted soul, savouring the wrongness in me and the devil placing his burning hand on my cheek and tells me ‘you’re safe with me now’

thirteen

i hide in changing rooms and don't change outside. for all the beauty in thorns and roses people were shell-shocked when i said i like the red of blood when i pricked my finger on brambly bushes. i quite liked the deep scarlet that was smeared across my thumbs. if i looked in a pail of blood i’d lose myself in the depths of shades. scarlet dries a burgundy brown on warm skin-canvases.

four

mummy said that she liked the tattoo of the butterfly on my hand that sammy gave me. i was so happy. sammy’s my best friend. i want to marry her when i grow up, it would be me and her and we’d play with barbies all day and draw on each others' hands and give each other fake tattoos. mummy said to never get real tattoos, it would be painful and it would roowin my skin. what does roowin mean? im gonna draw on sammy’s arm tomorrow.

[kid-sid]

Designed and made a mini line of art toys a few months back, TRAGEDY BOO BOO.  Basically the idea was to make little keychain guys, each with their own tragic backstory, to weather the woes of the world with you. I’ve made a total of 18 of these freaks now, we’ll see if I ever take pictures of the rest. 

Back of box: MISERY LOVES COMPANY. Life is hard and it hurts to try- Tragedy Boo Boos won’t sugarcoat the tougher parts of how it feels to be alive. They offer no shield from the woes of life but quiet company in these dark days. Each lovably unloved darling of despair has their own uniquely tragic backstory to share and a sturdy o-ring attachment so you can clip them to any bag, hook, toe tag, leash, or funeral pyre you see fit. Equal parts nihilistic, gloomy, and strange, these portable portents of pity were built to love and made to cry. Much of the time we are left to go it alone, but if this is really the way it’s going to be, Tragedy Boo Boos would rather go it with you. 

Character tags:

This is BABYFACE- darling of the underworld, emissary of The Storm, and heir to the Great Dark Eternity to follow. But what does that mean? Babyface doesn’t know. All Babyface knows is the yawning embrace of the Pale Oozing Itch of the Beyond.  To remedy this endearing naivete, Babyface has traveled to the mortal world to gain a better understanding of what they will someday destroy. They have since come to love the fleeting, frustrating, poetic, and stupid nature of life on earth all the more for knowing it will soon be gone. But in this journey of discovery, Babyface is alone- as are we all. Babyface wonders if maybe you’d like to be alone together, for what little time we have left. 

SKULLTOPOPOPOLIS is a tortured soul- literally. Part cenobite, part grim reaper, and all pocket-sized hellraiser, Skulltopopopolis is responsible for the suffering of the ten thousand in/human souls they have reaped in the last 666 years. Armed with a legion of the unhappy damned and a penchant for pain, this little masochist enjoys eternal torment, acupuncture, and harvesting the skulls of the wicked and the virtuous alike. Skulltopopopolis isn’t here to harvest your skull just yet, but maybe you’d like to hang out or something until then?

Jeepers creepers, keep shut those peepers! THE OMEN is an ossuary-dwelling totem of occult power and prophecy. The Omen sees all. Their eyes see in Absolute Truth, reading the heaving beating fate of reality itself. But for The Omen to realize this reality is for this reality to realize, past present and future, and simultaneously lock all things at the heat death of the universe and its birth in perpetuity. Thus the Omen’s eyes of horrible clarity have been pinned shut for the (un) foreseeable future. Regarded by some as an insidious curse and by others a living arc of the covenant, The Omen regards nothing. Because whether they are martyr, ghost, baby, or goat, they can see clearly that they want to be yours. Can they look for a friend in you?

LITTLE DEADIE had a taste for the sweeter things in life- so much so that their excessive consumption of sweeteners, creamers and all breeds of syrups ironically put them into a seemingly permanent vegatative state. Little Deadie’s friends and family loved them dearly, and buried them in a lovely little coffin full of flowers. What they didn’t know is that Little Deadie was not comatose, but a very heavy sleeper. Unfortunately, all that sugar Little Deadie once loved so much had made their fingernails brittle, and their clawing did naught but scratch up the inside of the lovely little coffin. Buried, beloved, from toe tag tip to tombstone top, darling Little Deadie- taken from us all too soon, but given back to you. Will you be sweet to them?

BOOBA BAT was tragically crushed flat by a 16-wheeler one night while taking a quick nap in the middle of a four lane super highway. Unfortunately, they died instantly. Fortunately, the collision of the road killing squashed Booba’s guts in just the right way to pop their unborn baby out and onto the street. Happy birthday GRIM BABY! Now wherever Grim Baby goes, Booba is never far behind. Connected by the umbilical and by love, they cut quite the street meat set. Won’t you join their happy little family? *Booba actually has a little pocket that GB can tuck up inside of.