#May even rework some personalities

[peapod20001]

*looks at some of my ocs*

What if I just...redid your face?

[felixandresims]

KICHEN 2Point0 :)

It’s been well over a year since the last Harlix collaboration, but we are happy to finally be able to announce the KICHEN 2Point0! It all started way back in 2019 with the original KICHEN, so we decided we wanted to bring it back full circle and finally focus back on our much-loved room of the home. A lot has changed over the past 4.5 years, not only in our own personal work but the multitude of custom content creators that also now create kitchens for your Sims. In 2019, there were slim pickings for your homes. Now, there is such a vibrant array of content to choose from, and it really is an excellent thing for all.

In the years that followed, we have really focused on improving our technical skills and artistry, which we hope you can see with this latest set. The stand-out item for us both in the original KICHEN was the wishbone chair. We have personally both tried to find another dining chair that tops it and failed miserably! It is just the perfect chair for use in so many different settings, whether it be modern or even a rustic setting; it’s just so versatile. It deserved an update to our latest techniques and colours & it’s the only item from the original KICHEN set that has been reworked for this newest iteration. Also, back in 2019 we were a little too scared to use our internal name for that item, but in 2024 we are happy to share the appropriately named WISHBONER chair with you 😆

The KICHEN 2Point0 is also designed to fit perfectly into our current Klean & Soho sets to fulfill the kitchen part. For some reason, we always seem to be in sync with our set themes, and no more so than with Klean & Soho. The overlap was very scary tbh, with many Pinterest pins selected independently but shared in common, so we decided to do this 2 part collaboration to create a kitchen to fit both of our current sets, with the hope of creating a much more in-depth set which includes all elements required to make your dream kitchen. This first part focuses on the foundations of that dream kitchen.

All items are Base Game compatible and can be found by searching the b/b catalogue using the keyword 2Point0. As the items are designed for both of our current sets, they will also appear when you search using the keywords KLEAN or SOHO.

Set Items include:

- Counter (raised with legs) - Counter (standard) - Island (raised with legs) - Island trolley (3 pieces) - Cabinets (short) - Cabinets (tall) - Appliance Cabinet - Fridge Nooks (high & low) - Built-in Sink (wide & standard) - Dining Table (1, 2 & 3 tile) - Wishboner Dining Chair - Shelving (multiple height endings, middle & standard end pieces) - Hanging Feature Pendant Lights (multiple variants)

Now on Patreon Early Access

Public release on the 7th of May

The collaboration will continue next month and focus on appliances and clutter for your kitchens.

[celaenaeiln]

Hiii, I don't really know if you made a post about this or not, but can I ask what you think of damian and dick's relationship? you have a really deep insight on the bat family's relationship, so I'm curious on how you would describe those two

Damian and Dick are probably the most important to each other in the family with the other being each other's most favorite person in the world. Dick is Damian's father, brother, mentor, and best friend. Actually it's reflective of Dick's relationship with Bruce but none of the toxic expectations and brute force of misplaced responsibilities.

Dick is loving and understanding of Damian and he's able to read him before Damian can even express his words.

For example, when the Black Lantern things open the caskets of Martha and Thomas Wayne, Dick asks Damian to help him wrap up the bodies but-

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

He's able to anticipate and take care of Damian before Damian can even tell him what he's thinking. That's the level of love and understanding Dick has of him.

Damian is insanely protective over Dick. When Deadman, Boston Brand, jumps into Dick, Damian gets super protective of his Batman.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Also Dick CANNOT STAND IT when someone hurts or insults Damian.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #1

Honestly I think Dick loves Damian's sass. Even when he says he wants to kill people Dick's just like, "not today another day kiddo" which is just super heartwarming when you hear their banter.

Anyways, Dick and Damian have the funniest back and forth!

Batman and Robin (2009) Issue #21

Damian values each and every word of Dick's.

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #1

While Damian respects Batman for what he created and wants to be appreciated as his son, Damian just loves Dick for who he is. I know some people think Bruce may be jealous of Dick and Damian's relationship, and while it's possible, I think Bruce is just super proud and happy. His greatest joy in life comes from Dick succeeding and he would have found it weird if Dick and Damian didn't get along because he inherently believes that Dick is the peak of goodness.

What I love most about Dick and Damian is that Damian is always shown as a loveable kid when he's with Dick. In the Batman and Robin (2011) comics with Bruce and Damian vs the Batman and Robin (2009) comics with Dick and Damian, Damian is much softer. Part of this comes from Bruce's refusal to treat him as robin originally, but their interactions are more stilted than the easy-going and funny ones between Damian and his big brother. But here's where it gets interesting. The writers write the characters in terms of how they would react to each other. What perception they would have of each other. So subconsciously the writers are creating the characters based on how they look at each other - meaning, Dick only sees Damian's good sides and finds his darker ones humorous whereas Bruce sees more of Damian's darker sides and has to rework himself to acknowledge Damian's growth.

I find that so fascinating how a character's personality in accordance with their relationships feeds back into the writer's writing rather than the writer influencing the relationships.

The most Dick has said about Damian willing to kill criminals is-

Batman: Streets of Gotham Issue #3

Another reason why Damian values Dick aside from being on the receiving end of his unconditional love is that Dick treats Damian like an equal. Dick doesn't command Damian to stay at his side at all times, he send Damian to do one task while he finishes up the other half. This indicates the amount of trust and faith he has in Robin's abilities and Damian in turn respects that.

Something that needs to be brought to attention is that just as much as Dick stops Damian from killing people, he is also his number one aiding and abetting partner.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #1

I LOVE THE MEAN LITTLE GRIN ON HIS FACE!!

My favorite part is Dick makes time for Damian just to have fun. He's a mentor and a father, but he's also the best brother someone could ask for.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #4

Honestly Gotham War Issue #138 was so confusing to me because there's just no way Damian would pander mindlessly to receive Bruce's acceptance. He literally broke from Batman to become his own person - he ran away - and suddenly he's back and begging for Bruce's love?? Even fighting over Dick is fine but the lack of connection between them?

Damian is single handedly the most important person in the world to Dick.

Damian is Dick's son.

Robin (2021) Issue #5

I find their relationship special because this is the only in his entire time life that Dick has ever given away a family momento of his own volition first. His parents and his background mean the utmost to him; he cradles the memories with longing and love. But inspite all this, he's giving away the last piece of family history. No, giving away isn't the right word. He's passing down his legacy. Damian is his son, he's literally inheriting the Grayson legacy in the way that only Dick can give. Bruce gave the kids Dick's mantle but he cannot give any of them Dick's history but Dick gave that to Damian. That's beautiful.

He straight up says it too

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

"When your dad came back, there was a moment I thought it would be better for you if you stayed with me. As my partner. As my..." "Really?" "Yeah."

DC SAID DICK AND DAMIAN FATHER AND SON RIGHTS AS CLOSE AS THEY COULD WITHOUT TAKING AWAY BRUCE'S BLOOD CLAIM.

Damian considers Dick his father.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #18

"Finding a new life. Considering a child to replace me. I don't know what I will be...alone. I need you here, Richard."

"Considering a child to replace me. "

Damian is heartbroken at the idea that Dick will have a kid and move on.

He loves Dick so much he goes all the way to Bludhaven just because he loves and misses him after Bruce took over as Batman.

Nighwing (2016) Issue #20

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"Are you with me Nightwing? The odds are completely against us."

"When did we ever let something like that get in the way? Robin the boy wonder, Damian."

Batman Incorporated (2012) Issue #8

"So far I'd say you've been my favorite partner. We were the best, Richard. Not matter what anyone thinks."

Robin (2021) Issue #5

Nightwing (2016) Issue #20

The world can stand against Damian but Dick will always be on his side.

Which is a problem in recent DC works because

Dick & Damian:

og panels Batman & Robin (2009) Issue #17

[aemonds-sapphire]

Punishment

Summary: Ser Erryk makes the mistake of looking for too long at you and Aemond makes sure he pays for it.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Jealous/Possessive Aemond. Exhibitionism. “Just the tip”. Dry humping. Creampie.

A/N: If you recognise this is because it’s a rework of a short fic I posted a few days ago. I added a smut scene and some other minor changes. Hope you like it!

A/N2: Can be read as part 2 of “Precious Stones”, but also as a stand-alone.

Word count: 2.5k

“Ask Ser Erryk if he wishes to preserve all his limbs intact.”

“My prince?”

“You heard what I said, Cole.”

To anyone unaware of what had provoked such serious solicitation, it would seem that Prince Aemond was merely poking fun.

But Aemond does not fool around when it comes to what belongs to him.

You swallowed your wine quietly, crossing eyes with Ser Erryk Cargyll whose stare was bold enough to have your heart clench.

And it was not because you welcomed the daring attention, but because you knew Aemond wouldn’t.

Aemond Targaryen had made his claim, and anyone who dared defy him would face the consequences.

You watched as Ser Criston Cole walked towards Ser Erryk to deliver the prince’s message.

His reaction was appalling.

The young member of the Kingsguard, entrusted with protecting Prince Aegon, decided that scoffing and chuckling was an appropriate way to respond to Aemond.

How wrong he was.

Sitting beside you, Aemond shifted in his seat, eye fixed on the man in front of him. “What is so amusing, Ser Erryk?”

You thanked the Gods that the king and queen were absent from supper, but you weren’t as fortunate when it came to Aegon.

“Oh, this ought to be good,” said the young prince, relishing in the eminent conflict.

Ser Erryk dropped his smile at once. “Nothing, my prince.”

“So you laugh at nothing? That is… concerning.”

Aemond was an expert where taunting others was concerned. He would know just what to say and how to say it, in order to set anyone off, ultimately prevailing as his skill with sword matched his words.

The silence was so thick you could hear the flames flickering on the candlesticks and the wind wailing angrily outside.

“Aemond…” you began, placing one hand on his thigh.

“Give me one reason not to behead you.”

Ser Criston Cole was tense through and through. “Prince Aemond, what happ—”

“Now why would you behead Ser Erryk, dear brother?” Aegon spoke, visibly amused. “Is my safety of no concern to you?”

Oh Gods…

Helaena would have no part in this, and simply kept to herself, lowered gaze and focused on downing the food in her plate.

“Stay out of this,” Aemond said calmly, his eye never leaving Ser Erryk.

A wise person would have followed this warning, but Aegon was not wise. In fact, he was a fool who thought himself to be wise. And there was no bigger foolery.

“I shall not,” Aegon voiced his indignation. “What is his crime, brother? Staring at her?”

Cold sweat ran down the back of your neck as you felt his eyes on you.

“Prince Aemond, I meant no disrespect,” Ser Erryk said as dutifully as possible given the current situation. “I apologise.”

Aemond gripped your hand tightly. Even though he excelled at keeping his composure, he had difficulty reining in his feelings when it came to those he cared about.

Aegon huffed in annoyance, twirling the fork in between his fingers. “Ruining our meal over some wench… I mean, really, Aemond…”

At this, your lover rose to his feet, banging his fist on the wooden table, nearly spilling the glasses of wine in the process.

But his anger wasn’t aimed at Aegon and his infantile demeanor.

After all, the cause of such commotion was far simpler.

Ser Erryk had made a mistake, and now he would pay for it.

“I may have lost an eye,” he told the kingsguard, voice dripping with poison. “But you are the one who is too blind to see that there is no scenario in which you come out victorious.”

The man responsible for prince Aegon’s well-being swallowed hard, but stood his ground, not showing anything other than respect for the dragon prince.

“Prince Aemond,” Ser Criston spoke once again. “Let us all calm down. I will make sure nothing of the sort happens again.”

Aemond chuckled. “First and final warning. Next time, you will not be so fortunate should you glance in her direction again.”

The young man nodded, staying silent.

“Mother will be delighted to know you’re threatening to kill my protector because of our sister’s lady-in-waiting,” Aegon said, clearly wanting to provoke his younger brother.

Aemond snapped his head at him. “If your own protection was of any concern to you, you wouldn’t dismiss his services so you can disappear into Flea Bottom,” a smile curved his lips as Aegon’s face dropped. “Do tell mother. Tell her that my flaw is caring for those I love, as she does. See how far that will get you, dear brother.”

Aegon’s eyes shot daggers at his younger brother in silence, and you vaguely wondered why he hadn’t snapped at his words.

But then again, Aegon thrived for simpler things in life other than picking fights with someone who could best him in whatever weapon of choice they’d decide to wield: sword or words.

As such, the rest of supper remained uneventful, with Aemond keeping one hand firmly on your thigh at all times.

That sense of belonging swept you off your feet completely.

Knowing that Aemond would not hesitate to let others know how strongly he felt about you.

By the time all cups and plates were emptied, Aegon left his seat, waving one hand dismissively at Ser Erryk as he exited the dining hall, proving once more that Aemond’s words had been true.

Aemond scoffed, raising to his feet while taking your hand in his. “Shall we?”

Heat flared in your cheeks as he tightened his grip lightly on you.

Nodding, you crossed eyes with Helaena. “I shall meet you in your bedchambers, my lady.”

Her eyes dropped to the sapphire necklace you had put on and she curled her lips into a warm smile.

Aemond held your hand closely as he paced across the room, until he was standing in front of Ser Erryk.

“Seeing that my brother won’t require your services, may I make use of them?”

It was a simple inquiry and it sounded innocent enough coming from him, but the look on Ser Erryk was far more revealing.

Criston Cole shared the sentiment, stepping between both of them. “Prince Aemond, I-"

Aemond heaved an audible sigh that effectively silenced him. “Ser Criston, you forget I’m skilled with my dagger,” he said, removing the blade from its sheath, twirling it effortlessly in his fingers. “If I wished to bring harm to Ser Erryk, I would have done so before you could blink.”

The young member of the Kingsguard did not seem all that convinced, but stepped aside regardless.

A mischievous smile danced on Aemond’s lips as he sheathed the dagger.

The sudden realisation that he was up to something suddenly hit you.

Never letting go of his hold on you, the three of you paced quietly along the vast corridors of the Red Keep.

There was certainly no need for Ser Erryk’s services and, for a fleeting moment, you wondered if Aemond actually intended to harm the young man.

But your fears vanished quickly when you reached the door to his bedchambers and watched as Aemond asked him to stand guard.

Ser Erryk held a blank expression, not daring to look at you.

Your lover let go of you hand and you felt him get behind you, pressing both hands on your shoulder.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

As soon as those words left his lips you turned to face him, embarrassed washing over you. “Aemond!”

One hand slid to your neck, slowly bringing his warm fingers to angle it, exposing more skin to his touch.

“Answer the question, Ser Erryk,” he said, caressing you with his thumb. “You may look at her now.”

His face hardened before your eyes, and he swallowed hard, probably thinking it was bait.

Embarrassment eventually subsided and made way for a fluttering sensation in your stomach as Aemond’s tender caressed kept you yearning for more.

Ser Erryk eventually turned his gaze to you. “Yes, she is, my prince.”

A low chuckle escaped Aemond’s lips before pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

Your eyes immediately fluttered shut and you thanked the Gods that his hold on your shoulder was enough to ground you, for your knees momentarily faltered.

He lingered for a while before drawing back, leaving a wet spot that made you shiver. “Do you trust me?” Aemond whispered in your ear.

You shouldn’t.

You couldn’t

But you wanted to.

Just to see how far he’d go to make you his.

“Yes.”

You open your eyes only to be met with Ser Erryk’s that seemed to be fixed on you.

“Ser Erryk,” Aemond said in between scorching kisses to your skin. “Would you want to touch her?”

The young man blinked in confusion. “My prince?”

“Oh, do not misunderstand,” he said and you could feel his smile. “It is not an offer.”

The hand on your shoulder moved to your belly before he settles his forearm right under your breasts, pulling you into his embrace and sealing your heated skin of with another kiss.

“Answer it.”

Through half-closed eyes you watched Ser Erryk swallow, visibly unsure of how to react. “No, my prince.”

Aemond scoffed, pulling you even closer, until you started to feel the outline of his cock being pressed firmly against your ass. You parted your lips, unable to control your breathing as pleasure overtook your senses.

His breath fanned your neck one last time before he let go of you at once.

“Ser Erryk, you are to guard this door.”

He threw one last look at you, straightening himself.

Aemond swung the door open and pulled you in, and before you could process whatever was happening, he had you pinned against the wooden boards until the foor slammed shut.

“Aemond…”

But he would have none of your words.

Hunger and possessiveness commanded the kiss he took from you, framing your hand with his strong hands, and grunting from having his cock rubbing against you.

He tore his lips away, ruffling the fabric of your dress up your thighs. “Legs around me. Now.”

The sense of urgency in his voice jolted you, but you immediately wrapped one leg first and once he had it secured with one hand, you lifted the other, immediately bringing your core into contact with his strained cock.

Aemond immediately bucked his hips into you, purely out of reflex, and you moaned as he held your jaw with his hand, forcing you to gaze at him.

“He’s… outside… my prince,” you managed to breathe out, nearly rolling your eyes when the fabric of his pants rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“And he will know I’m the only men who is ever allowed to have you,” he said before pressing hurried kisses along your jawline. “He will hear it.”

Lust had taken over and guided your body to sway alongside his, welcoming his desperate thrusts and your own need to quench the thirst you had for this man.

Your eyes had fluttered shut when his took your lips in his, but quickly snapped open at the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn.

Aemond had removed his eyepatch and his stare nearly took your breath away as he lifted his dagger to rest on the sapphire necklace he had gifted you.

You widened your eyes and let out a gasp once he dragged the cool metal along you skin, careful enough not to hurt you, settling it on the neckline of your dress.

“Do you trust me?” he asked for the second time that night.

You bit your lip, staring into his own sapphire. “No.”

“Allow me to change your mind.”

And with no further warning, he slide the dagger into your dress ripping it at the front, the tearing sound filling your ears.

You watched in shock as he threw the dagger to the blade to the floor.

Had Ser Erryk heard it too?

Even if he had missed it, he surely wouldn’t be able to miss the obscene noise of Aemond latching on to an exposed nipple, desperately sucking on it.

“Aemond…” you gasped, feeling your own wetness starting to coat your folds. “Aemond… Aemond…”

You kept on repeating his name like a prayer, not sure whether you were urging him or simply too lost in your own pleasure to say anything else.

He grunted as he rolled your nipple in between his teeth teasingly.

It was your time to snap your hips into his, and he immediately halted his ministrations to let out the most delicious growl you had ever heard.

“The many times I have wished to take you like this,” he whispered into your lips, rolling his clothed cock against you, one hand resting on the sapphire necklace. “You’re mine.”

A deep moan filled the room joining the rhythm sound of your body being slammed against the wooden door, certainly letting the man on the other side know the how it sounded to defy Aemond Targaryen and what he deemed as his.

“Ask him,” Aemond suddenly whispered as he fumbled with his pants.

“What…”

His hand finally managed to spring his cock free and, wasting no time, he pressed it on top of your soaked folds, applying just enough pressure until it sank in between them, relishing in your wetness.

“Tell him who you belong to,” he managed to say in between heavy pants.

As if to serve as motivation, he moved his hips to have his cock sliding up and down, the underside rubbing your clit.

“Ser Erryk…” you said, grasping his shoulders with both hands to keep the balance. “Ser Erryk…”

“Yes, my lady?”

His voice was low but firm, and you nearly let out a another breathy moan when Aemond brought his lips to your neck, sucking soundly.

“Who.. who..” your voiced died in your throat as the young prince’s cock relentlessly collected your wetness and spread it. “Who do I belong to…”

The member of the Kingsguard cleared his throat. “To… prince Aemond.”

Aemond removed his lips from your skin and planted a kiss. “Just marking you. Ser already Erryk knows you’re mine, and now others will, too.”

At this point you immediately realised you weren’t going to last much longer. Between his thick cock rubbing steadily into you and his words of lust, you knew your body wasn’t meant to withstand the unbearable level of pleasure.

You reached your peak first, crying out his name and pressing your head firmly against the door as your body rolled and your walls clenched around nothing.

Aemond pressed his forehead to the door, panting heavily into your ear. “Let me… just the tip…”

“Gods!” You sobbed as pleasured blinded your vision.

You felt him quickly shift under you, and gasped loudly once you felt him push the head of his cock into you.

Your legs quivered reflexively as he spilled profanities in High Valyrian as your walls clamped around him, rhythmically pushing him over the edge.

By the time Aemond went over the edge, you had already descended from your high, but still managed to find bliss in feeling the hot spurts of cum dripping from you.

Aemond threw his head back and his lips parted in a loud growl that you were sure would be heard across half of the Red Keep.

Both of you were left panting and by the time he had let you slide off his waist, you were able to feel the droplets of his released coating your folds and sliding down your thighs.

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?

[snapscube]

Wait, what's the difference between benchmark 2 and benchmark 1? :0

LOTS of stuff. there was a lot of feedback about how the first benchmark (particularly the character creator portion) was causing characters to look somewhat uncanny. there were some texture issues, some modeling issues, some surprising oversights, and the character creator still containing the old lighting systems and environments of the base game was really fucking with the vibe. personally, i still think it was an overall improvement and u could def see it more in the benchmark cutscene itself with the dawntrail environments, but there were very fair concerns. it's not particularly surprising that with such a massive update there would be more oversights and issues than we're used to. BUT, with the new one they have fixed a large majority of the problems! including:

entirely reworked character creator environment. this is easily the largest scale change. they updated the lighting systems, removed dynamic weather conditions and lighting changes so things stay consistent, updated foliage and textures to represent dawntrail quality, removed the vignette around the screen, and more. they even added a new lighting mode in the "aether" environment that gives your character a very natural and consistent studio lighting so you have an environment that better represents your character's base skin tone. it's so, so good. look at the new foliage and lighting in the black shroud environment.

2. they improved shading in the actual dawntrail environments as well so characters keep a nice amount of depth on their face even in dimly lit zones

3. eyes no longer look dead in low light as the shader system that replaced the highlight texture has been strengthened so eyes now properly are very pretty and shiny

and then yeah like i said there's a lot of texture fixes they made like moon miqote having their fangs reduced and lalafell having scary teeth scaling :)

and you may be thinking "wow this is a lot of work to put into at the last second just for a benchmark" but the cool thing is that ALL of these changes are being applied to the actual expansion. so people's feedback towards the benchmark actively improved the launch state of the expansion itself!

im just very happy about dawntrail :D i cant wait for the end of the month aaaa

[theminecraftbee]

vault god facts for the new vault hunters watcher

(IE: hey hermitcraft fans HERE ARE YOUR GUYS TO DO LORE WITH)

so, there are four in-game vault gods. however, you'll sometimes hear people like hbomb refer to the "vault gods" when talking about the vault hunters devs. that, or blaming the name of douwsky, the janitor. those are not the gods i'm referring to here but ask me about my iskall headcanons as a result of this sometime.

each god has altars in the vault, which will ask for a specific sacrifice in order to give you favor with that god. they also have idols, which raise your favor and have bonuses depending on which god the idol belongs to (as well as bonuses to things like amount of mana and how fast you recover from status effects).

having favor with a god can confer upon you bonuses within the vault, and has a compounding effect the more favor you have.

raising favor with one god will eventually lower favor with another (assuming update 12 keeps that mechanic), so the hermits will eventually develop certain gods they each individually have more of an affinity towards, depending on their play style. this can be seen in the vault hunters stat screen, so keep an eye out!

you used to be able to get negative favor with the vault gods, and they'd hurt you in the vault. this has largely been removed in this version of vault hunters (unless they put it back in update 12, i haven't quite caught up with the mechanical rework from this update). pete had a whole arc about this in season 2 of vh smp.

when vault god favor activates at the start of a vault, the gods have quotes they state in the chat. from these, you can pick up a bit of their personalities.

they have official art! that being said, even with this official art, people like to interpret them a lot of ways, so go crazy go nuts!

it seems the final boss may have something to do with these figures...

the four gods are as follows:

idona, the malevolent is the red vault god. their altar asks you to kill mobs as sacrifice. when you have favor with idona, you earn more soul shards while killing, have higher strength, and are more effective at killing mobs.

tenos, the omniscient is the blue vault god. their altar asks you to give up levels as a sacrifice. when you have favor with tenos, you find more items while looting, those items are rarer, and generally you'll get more out of the vault.

wendarr, the timekeeper is the yellow vault god. their altar asks you to give up mana as sacrifice. when you have favor with wendarr, mana regenerates faster, you can have more time in the vault, and generally things that take time will move more in your favor.

velara, the benevolent is the green vault god. their altar asks you to give up health as sacrifice. when you have favor with velara, you can get regeneration, have more hearts, and generally you'll be healthier and heal faster. additionally, velara is the god that punishes you for using healing potions in the vault by cutting your healing efficiency by a large amount. only use vault potions if you don't want to anger them.

and that's some vault gods knowledge for you to lore with! have fun! :D

[emonewtype]

So I've been doing some thinking on the rumors of a TotA remaster and how it would work out with a pattern I've noticed: even now with Graces remaster announced, every tales game to get a remaster for modern consoles and steam had, at some point, a downloadable PS3 version, and I assume that these PS3 versions are what the modern versions are further modifications of. An Abyss remaster would be the first time that method would be impossible, leading to two possibilities:

1) They go all the way back and painstakingly force the nearly 20 year old PS2 version to play nice in HD and on modern hardware, in a massive W for old games preservation and providing hope that we may one day get Destiny Directors Cut

Or, the option that I can't stop thinking about:

2) Unlike the previous remasters, they instead choose to go for a full remake in modern Tales style, in the vein of what we've seen Capcom do with their Resident Evil, with script details changed, gameplay completely reworked, and likely an all new voice cast for the english dub.

If they do go with that second option, then as with all full remakes these days, the fanbase will probably debate which is the better version, and I find it hilarious that this fanbase, of all of them, will all have to ask the questions:

Do you love the Original, or the Replica? Can you find room in your heart for both? How much of a difference is there between them, really? Are those differences important? Does that importance come from something inherent in what was changed, or does it come from your personal relationship with it? Does the existence of the Original make it okay to judge the Replica at a higher standard than normal? Does the existence of the Replica make it okay that the Original will be forgotten?

I'm starting to feel for Natalia, and how she was so fond of Asch.

[ukiyowi]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 (𝟓𝟒𝟎𝟓)

ETERNAL CHILDHOOD

The place Neverland (asteroid 5305) comes from the works of J.M Barrie where characters like Peter Pan, Captain Hook and the Lost Boys come from. Neverland talks about never growing up. In my opinion, wherever this asteroid is in your chart it can signify escapism (where you escape to when the world's troubles come your way).

NOTE: THESE ARE JUST MY OBSERVATIONS don't take my word as gospel~

Navi

∞ 1st: You may turn to childhood hobbies, maybe playing games you played in your early years, or focusing on your outward appearance, trying to feel better through fashion or makeup, express yourself in terms of your appearance. This placement may indicate talking to yourself/giving yourself very frequent pep talks and/or affirming a lot.

∞ 2nd: You could turn to things that give you comfort like foods that you've liked for a long time, like you may eat or drink or go/order food from somewhere you like. It can also suggest that you may either window shop or spend money on things you like. It could be like a reward system, you are rewarding yourself for getting through the tough time.

∞ 3rd: Probably will turn to reading or debates, I've noticed 3rd house also concerns itself with commentary so maybe you'd watch commentary videos on YouTube, something that will get the gears going in your head to distract you from the problems you may be facing. Could also spend time with your siblings if you have any.

∞ 4th: You'll turn to your family, maybe a maternal figure when you are in trouble. You may seek solace from elders around you, probably go to them for advice or just to talk. I've noticed some people with this placement throw themselves into academic work/they'll start researching on random topics and go in-depth as an escape.

∞ 5th: You create, I have a friend with this placement and she goes complete re-enactment of her favourite movie scene either out loud or in her head because it makes her feel so much better/works as an outlet, you may paint/draw too OOO or watch dramatic movies that is also something I've noticed.

∞ 6th: You move, you need physical movement may it be going on a run or exercising (something related to health) or simply pacing around the house makes you feel better. You may start making plans/timetables for yourself as it may act as a distraction. You may throw yourself into work and surround yourself with projects so that you constantly have something to do.

∞ 7th: Personally noticed that yes they may try to escape using relationships both platonic and romantic and getting lost in them treating them as ideal even when they're not BUT ALSO I've noticed that these placements usually may play uhm dating simulation games? Like good old fashioned otome games or something this is just a personal observation because I too have this placement and uhh :D

∞ 8th: I have a friend with this placement and as typical as it may sound she either goes and interacts with NSFW stuff or masturbates, they may also spend kinda recklessly or play gacha games (or actually gamble) this could be linked to reckless spending OR on the flip side trying to earn as much as I can usually for others benefit like through fundraisers.

∞ 9th: I've noticed they go into their mind, probably try to analyse the situation. I've seen that they may research on an array of topics as well just whatever interests them, they may also look towards religion if they are religious or look towards spirituality, trying to find solace or answers in a higher power, the escapist tendencies may lead to becoming parts of communes

∞ 10th: The typical and often true answer, they throw themselves into work BUT I've noticed that they try to change themselves, like major changes, they may try to change their entire persona in a small period of time, from how they're viewed to how they dress. They essentially want to rebrand and rework.

∞ 11th: Spending time with close friends, for a lot of them probably spending time online, coming online can especially give them a break from reality, also the type to havemore online friends as well, they could also get into a lot of volunteer work, probably having to do with mental health or old ages homes.

∞ 12th: One is sleeping I don't know why but I know 2 people with this placement and they just go to bed, if not that then it's either journaling like art journaling or poetry writing, romanticised poetry that too, a lot of the times they just get lost in a daydream, in an ideal world where whatever they're escaping from doesn't exist, probably also the type to isolate themselves.

-♡♡♡-

[kerubimcrepin]

Dofus: The Production - what is left of the old movie

Originally, the movie was supposed to tie in with the game and the Welsh & Shedar series, and be a trilogy.

As we had already explored on this blog, this did not happen for a variety of reasons.

Welsh and Shedar got cannibalized by other projects due to its cancellation, and the script of the movie "Dofus Book 1: Joris Jurgen" had to be completely rewritten from its old plot;

In that movie, Joris was likely supposed to be a street urchin, who survived together with Lilotte, who was a rogue, and the trailer we have for the older version of the movie reflects that:

As we can also see from the trailer, and the poster featured earlier, proto-Kerubim is also a part of the movie, and Khan was not yet meant to be a boufbowler.

(And considering the posters, the cat that inspired Kerubim's design was also a part of the movie. I wonder if it's related to Welsh's cat from Welsh and Shedar? But maybe I'm just crazy.)

Subsequently, the movie came out at a much later date than planned originally.

(two images included because, bizarrely, there are two versions - one with Joris's tail censored, and the other with his tail uncensored. This proves that already at this point they had a draconic backstory in mind for him, though we do know that at the time of Wakfu season 1 (and, likely, the cancelled DS game, as was noted in my post about it) it was not the case.)

Also, interestingly, it is the only art of this time to include the tail. A possible error on Xa's part, or something that was considered very briefly?

In the end, Kerubim (as well as Simone) swallowed up not just the design of Welsh's cat, clothes, and Ecaflip friend;

He also got the role Julith was supposed to have, both metaphorically, and also literally.

Or not entirely — considering the fact that Joris was supposed to spend time with him anyway, since we have art of Joris on his mount from that old draft.

It's quite interesting, to think of all that could have been different in the 2009-2012 version of the movie!

But even during the making of the second draft of the movie, a lot of things have changed. From the first idea of Joris winning Kerubim back at a pachinko machine, to the concept art of Joris's non-possessed appearance.

The movie was being actively rewritten at the time of the making of Aux Tresors, so some of the early drafts were already tied in with its canon — taking place in Astrub, to be specific — but not with its ending, because the show was still ongoing.

At one point there was supposed to be a whole cast of Huppermage characters, and judging from the fact one of them is mentioned in the following text, they did play some sort of role in the plot:

It is likely that from this early draft it was decided that Joris would be a boufbowl fan, which was then worked in as a plot point in Aux Tresors.

(Stélina may be a proto-version of Bakara.)

It also seems that at this stage, it would be likely that Lilotte was reworked to be the Princess of Bonta, before eventually becoming the Ouginak we know and love.

After this Ankama once again returned to the concept of Lilotte as an orphan, though — even when the movie was still set in Astrub!

And it seems that the draft involved travel between Astrub and Bonta, judging from the usage of a Zaap to attack Luis.

And even at this point they have come up with the tragically cut "Joris and Khan go to adult industry workers and Joris (10yo boy) engages in depressed underaged drinking" scene.

(I'll never forgive Ankama for cutting this. I still argue that it's in character for Khan, our detested/beloved turbovirgin, to do this — as long as he doesn't get together with any of the women due to thinking himself "too good" for them.)

Also, at some point the gods were supposed to play a role. And personally, I am glad it was cut — it feels a bit too grand for the first movie in what was supposed to be a series.

I don't have any grand statement, or conclusion, but it is interesting to see all the ways the movie has changed.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Perhaps, if he had bothered to ask for a second opinion, Shadow Milk Cookie would have been told he shouldn't be doing this. Luckily, he hadn't, so he manages to confidently prepare the magic circle with very little concern towards the appropriateness of his own actions.

He steps back to look over it once more, checking for any errors, before finally setting the chalk down. Brushing off the dust from his hands, Shadow Milk admires his handiwork in the light of the crescent moon, his dough crawling with accumulated anticipation.

He noticed it a long time ago, the suffocating blanket of churning emotion that often drapes itself over him, heavy and dark. It isn't his own emotion, he realised that quickly, because it weighs over him instead of burrowing into his chest, and nothing happened to him personally to prompt such tumultuous feelings. This realisation was soon followed by another – namely, that some sort of external being must be the cause, and it must be following him, if its presence is plaguing him so strongly. It comes and it goes, but it always returns, and he is finally going to find out what it is.

So Shadow Milk is looking forward to this. It is his specialty as the holder of the Light of Truth, after all, to reveal unknowns, and this unknown has long become personal.

With the magic circle ready and the moon in the sky, there is no reason for him to wait any longer, so he doesn't. He steps carefully into the circle, making sure not to disturb the lines as he makes his way to the middle, and with a sweep of his robes, he settles down into a sitting position.

This spell is a difficult one because it was found incomplete, the rest of it either lost to time or unfinished. It had taken quite a lot of reworking to finalise something feasible, in between all his other duties. There is also the added caveat of it being a Black Magic spell, but Shadow Milk had found a compromise for that, which is precisely why he chose to perform it under the smiling crescent, mere days away from the new moon, instead of the full moon.

Regardless of the effort required, if everything went well, this spell should allow him to make contact with the being that had been following him, whatever it may be. More specifically, it should open a mental connection, allowing them to have a conversation even if this being was something incapable of speech.

That alone was worth all this effort. After all, Shadow Milk had plenty of questions to ask it.

He plants his hands on the ground, drawing power from the moon tentatively like unspooling a thread. It starts to spill in quicker, wilder, and he makes sure to remain calm as it seems to buzz and writhe through him, focusing on redirecting it into the magic circle. It begins to glow a cold white, and Shadow Milk feels his dough prickling like it is being watched, that familiar presence growing heavier around him like a blanket. He bites down on his excited smile.

Don't worry. Just a little bit more, and we'll finally meet.

Shadow Milk's hands twitch with the force of the magic coursing through him, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as the shadows in the room seem to congeal, growing thicker and pooling out of their hiding spots. They eat away at the magic circle, closing in on Shadow Milk swiftly, and he welcomes them as they eagerly swallow the circle, the floor, the walls, the room, everything.

What happens next is difficult to describe. He doesn't feel the ground fall out from under him, he just realises it is no longer there. It is so dark that it makes no difference if his eyes are open or closed, and they don't seem to adjust no matter how many times he blinks. It only makes the surrounding darkness begin to squirm in strange patterns, as if alive. He suddenly feels strange and cold.

But most importantly, he feels like he is submerged in those restless emotions, his every move weighted like he is underwater. They nearly choke him, stronger than he has ever felt before, and delight bursts in his chest in jarring contrast, thrilled that the spell seems to have worked.

"Hello?" He calls out, his voice echoing in a way that makes his ears ring. For a moment that feels like forever, there is nothing but a deafening silence around to greet him.

And then, he is attacked with blinding light.

Shadow Milk rears back as much as he can manage, instinctively shutting his eyes at the assault, and raises a hand to shield them when he immediately tries to open them again, curious of the source. Squinting past the shade of his palm, he finds dozens of white suns glaring down at him, their light doing nothing to penetrate the overwhelming black of the void.

"How are you here?" A voice calls back, hoarse and whispery and frantic, as if it had never been used before, and Shadow Milk's breath catches.

Upon closer inspection, the suns surrounding him are actually the pupils of a dozen huge eyes, bearing down on him with wide-eyed focus from all sides. Shadow Milk soaks in the attention, joy bubbling nauseatingly in his stomach like soda, his mind running so fast that his thoughts become incomprehensible.

"Who are you?" He asks, the question almost bursting right out of his chest with how suddenly it comes. He can't quite look at the eyes directly, with how blindingly bright they are, but he does his best to hedge in quick glances.

There isn't a response, not from the voice or the eyes, but that doesn't deter him. Now Shadow Milk has unshakeable proof that the being is here, capable of conversation, he doesn't need any more encouragement to keep going.

"I'm Shadow Milk Cookie, though you must know that already." He introduces himself with a polite nod of his head, somewhat entertained by the thought of his eldritch companion being shy. When that doesn't garner any meaningful result, he tacks on, lightheartedly, "Isn't it a bit rude to not introduce yourself back?"

The eyes blink at him, the syncopated movement rippling through the nothingness.

"...There is nothing to introduce." The voice replies reluctantly, though it sounds more stable than before, slightly stronger as it curls around him. "I don't have a name anymore."

"You must have a name," Shadow Milk urges with a creeping smile, "or at least something I can call you."

There is another stretch of silence, long enough that Shadow Milk is forced to reconsider his approach, before it is graciously broken by his companion, who must have come to some kind of conclusion.

"You can call me the Beast of Deceit, if you must call me at all." The Beast offers, and if Shadow Milk's attention hadn't already been fully devoted to it, that certainly would have done the trick. "That is all anyone calls me now."

"The Beast of Deceit." Shadow Milk repeats the syllables carefully, tasting them as he brings a hand up to the warm pulse of his Soul Jam. Something clicks pleasantly in his mind, like a perfect solution to an equation that has been bothering him. "Then you're almost like my other half, aren't you? Since Truth and Deceit are direct opposites." The thought is nice enough, he supposes, but more than that, it is intriguing. "Is that why you've been watching me?"

This must be the wrong thing to ask, because the Beast skates past his question entirely, eyes squinting as if pained. "You shouldn't be here."

"And yet, here I am. It took quite a lot of work for me to get here too, so you'll understand that I'm not in a hurry to leave." Shadow Milk explains amicably, hoping that if he was clear with his intentions, the Beast might entertain a more fruitful conversation. He pauses, looking around at the surrounding infinity. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Nowhere you would want to be." The Beast says cryptically, its voice slowly moving, collecting somewhere in front of him. It's a bit disorienting.

"...You aren't very good at holding a conversation, are you?" Shadow Milk sighs, not unkindly but certainly with growing frustration. Still, he has considered this possibility before, of his unknown companion being uncooperative, so he tries again. "Isn't it unfair for you to not answer any of my questions, after following me around for so long? I think I deserve an explanation, at least."

"I have no explanation to give." The Beast's tone is flat. It's… a disappointing response, frankly, but Shadow Milk smiles through it.

"But you can't deny that you are the one who has been following me." He counters, his voice light and pleasant so it doesn't come across too heavily as an accusation. "Your emotions are very palpable, so your presence isn't subtle. There is no mistaking it."

The coiling thickness of those emotions seem to shift around Shadow Milk now, almost self-consciously, but they do not lighten. Such strong negative feelings - he is fascinated by them, the researcher in him wanting to know what exactly could cause them.

The Beast sighs as if it is carrying the weight of the world on its shoulders, and the sound finally settles in front of him entirely as some of the eyes slide closed. The clashing light and dark begins to morph before him, a faint silhouette forming and rising out of the nothingness.

Shadow Milk watches, enraptured, as the shape of a Cookie emerges, dripping with the void itself. He looks battered, wrapped in dishevelled black robes with equally dishevelled dull hair. It is covered by a dark hat shaped like a crown, with what must be his Soul Jam set in the middle, its blue the only splash of colour to be seen. His eyes are covered in a thick black blindfold, and he holds a staff protectively in front of himself with both hands, eerily similar in style to the one Shadow Milk left outside of the magic circle, if not for the vertically oriented eye.

All in all, he does not look intimidating. If anything, he looks like a chess piece.

"I apologise for that, then. I wasn't aware my presence would disturb you so much." The Beast mutters, as if he would prefer not to be speaking, his form not quite fully formed. "But you shouldn't be here. Please leave."

"You don't look like much of a beast to me." Shadow Milk comments warmly, extending the friendly compliment in the hopes of distracting the Beast from his complete lack of intention to leave. Even so, his words are genuine. "That title doesn't fit you at all."

The Beast frowns, ducking his head lower. "Don't act so familiar with me. I am called the Beast of Deceit for a reason." He hisses, but it holds no malice, only tiredness. Then, after a beat, he repeats, firmer than before. "Please leave."

The title really doesn't suit him, though. Shadow Milk ponders this for a moment, before mentally renaming him as the King instead. A poor excuse for a king, perhaps, but that still felt far more appropriate than a beast.

"...Will you really not tell me anything?" Shadow Milk asks finally, growing more subdued. "You must know, since you have been following me, that I have worked hard to be able to contact you like this."

"I have nothing to tell, I have already told you that." The King reminds him quietly, unimpressed, turning his head away. "I apologise for your wasted time, but it was unnecessary to begin with." Then, after a beat, he repeats, an attempt at a lacklustre command. "Please leave."

Shadow Milk hums under his breath, pondering this too. This isn't going exactly how he had hoped, that is true, but to call his time wasted is completely incorrect. On the contrary, all this encounter has done is make his curiosity peak, even more invested in this mystery than he was before.

Maybe it was for the best that the King refused to tell him anything. Thinking about it now, wouldn't that have been too simple? It is more fun to unravel some things himself, and Shadow Milk is certainly capable of uncovering the truth behind this odd apparition.

It is his virtue, after all.

"...Alright." Shadow Milk nods, taking one last lingering look at the King, before closing his eyes. "If you insist, I'll leave."

The King doesn't reply. That's fine. Shadow Milk focuses on searching himself internally for the tether to his physical body, for the anchor that is the magic circle. Since this is his first time casting this spell, and the way the magic twists is unfamiliar, it admittedly takes him a moment to get a hold of it, but he does.

Concentrating on that anchor, he calls himself back to his body.

Much like leaving, returning is just as hard to describe. There is no jolt, or impact. Everything simply returns – his senses, the floor beneath him, the sound of the wind outside the window – from one moment to the next. He shudders as he gets reacquainted with his body, or rather, his body gets reacquainted with him.

The chaos of those negative emotions are awfully thick in the air, squeezing around him tightly like they hope to crumble him. Shadow Milk relaxes into it, releasing his grip on the flow of magic and the spell itself, and opens his eyes.

There, in front of him, the King is suspended in the air above the outer edge of the circle, unmoving. His form flickers, translucent and blurring at the edges. Slowly, unnervingly slowly like he doesn't know how to use it properly, he turns his head.

"...What is this?" The King whispers, the words almost dissolving into the ambient noise, his grip on his staff visibly tightening.

"The spell I used to make contact with you forged a connection between us." Shadow Milk says patiently, making sure his expression is open and welcoming, the same one he uses when introducing himself to new students. "If my presence could be projected to wherever we were previously, then naturally your presence can be projected here too. It's only fair, since you were watching me anyway, weren't you?"

Shadow Milk rises to his feet, brushing dust off his robes with both hands. The King says nothing, but he can practically feel the frown directed at him.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me anything. That's okay!" Shadow Milk assures, lifting his gaze back to that blindfold, that staff, that Soul Jam, near identical to his own. His curiosity burns.

"You don't have to tell me," he smiles like a promise, "I'll find out for myself."

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

story playlist

The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song. 

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness. 

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff. 

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed. 

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws. 

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet! 

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form. 

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.” 

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs. 

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…” 

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight. 

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it. 

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her. 

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity. 

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her. 

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day. 

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall. 

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.” 

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking. 

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.” 

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?” 

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.” 

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she? 

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation. 

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected. 

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair. 

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails. 

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.” 

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building. 

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering. 

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor. 

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing. 

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera, 

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello. 

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you. 

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things? 

I hope to hear from you soon. 

Best, 

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat. 

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers. 

Prince Aemond, 

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold. 

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers. 

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat. 

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more. 

I wish you well. 

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk. 

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified. 

Lady Stark, 

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well. 

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries. 

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was. 

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for. 

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory. 

Were they strangers now? 

Does he remember her? 

… why does she still wish to see him? 

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

[sleepingdeath-light]

minthara smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; disney anon (02/12/23)

fandom(s) ; baldur’s gate 3

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; minthara

outline ; “I've been summoned by your BG3 request call 🫡 Can you please do some Minthara x reader relationship and smut headcanons?”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, strict dominant!minthara, sadist!minthara, submissive!reader, masochist!reader, bondage, marking kink, pet name kink (mistress), edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, use of sex toys (strap on)

note ; as i’ve never written for minthara until now, her characterisation may be a tad shaky here/worth a future rework lol ^^

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

first things first, but minthara is a strictly dominant person so there’s less than zero chance of you ever getting her to hand over control to you (not even as a type of roleplay) — and not only is she strictly dominant, she’s also a very strict dominant who isn’t afraid to punish you for acting out of line and/or being a brat

though there are occasions where she can appreciate the opportunity to fight you for the right to dominate you — she fell for your strength and capability in battle, after all, so the occasional chance to experience that side of you again is certainly welcome (… so long as you clear it with her first, otherwise she may just see it as you actually being a brat and will punish you accordingly)

she has very specific expectations of you once you two start incorporating a formal dynamic into your bedroom, which includes everything from establishing a thorough and methodical aftercare routine to discussing how she ought to punish you for breaking the rules — each rule has its own sort of punishment, of course, and she’s very particular about having each punishment be suited to the offence committed (e.g. minor infractions and slip ups are met with softer punishments whereas majorly bratting out will have you bent over her knee and punished immediately), and she always makes a point to have you state your ‘crime’ and it’s set punishment in full before moving on to actually punishing you (this is partially to humiliate you and remind you of your place, but it’s also her own way of making sure you understand what’s being done and don’t think you’re being hurt without reason — she may be a sadist, but she’s not that cruel… not with you, anyway)

due to the above mentioned discussions, minthara absolutely excels when it comes to aftercare — loving you and being gentle with you may not come easily to her given her background, but she nevertheless does whatever she can to ensure you’re well taken care of to the best of her abilities: washing you by hand, bringing you filling foods to eat, fetching water, and talking through what happened to ensure she didn’t go too far and that you did actually enjoy yourself no matter how taxing the session was on you

of course she makes a habit of altering/adjusting her punishments based on your limits and boundaries, but if you have no objections to them then her default punishment for severe infractions is as follows: minthara restraining you so professionally and tightly that you can barely move at all, her using her hands and/or strap-on to bring you to the brink of climax and either pulling away entirely to edge you or giving you a completely ruined orgasm, her not stopping until you’re weeping through your words as you beg her to please let you cum/finish properly and promise her to be good, and her finally giving in to your pleas once she’s decided you’ve earned it (or not giving in at all if you were especially bad or bratty beforehand)

as mentioned above, minthara is extremely proficient when it comes to bondage and is more than happy to show off her talents whenever the occasion arises — whether you want something minimal but practical, something to suspend you, or something with a little more flare to keep you in place as she ruins you, she’s more than capable of adapting her style to suit each of your needs and wants in the bedroom

because of how intense sex and foreplay with her can get, she makes sure that you remember every established safe word and action before you two actually do anything — actions in case you’re gagged or too overwhelmed to speak, milder safe words in case you need a break but don’t actually want to stop, fake safe words if you’re participating in a sort of primal play, and an actual safe word if you want her to stop

once you two are in an intimate situation you’re expected to address her as ‘mistress’ lest she have to punish you for your defiance — she may be swayed to let you call her something like ‘mommy’ (or ‘mummy’ depending on your preference) if it’s something that you’re really into and if you’ve been good enough to earn a reward, but her preference will always be towards ‘mistress’

she has a big thing for marking you as hers and will do so however you allow her — whether that means going out of her way to buy you a formal collar once you’re committed to each other, or settling for something a little more primal (welts on your ass/thighs/chest from impact play, bite marks on your neck/chest/stomach, bruises on your hips/thighs/wrists [if bruises show up on you], having you wear something of hers that will fit you, etc.)

(in other words; minthara doesn’t like sharing and makes it clear as soon as possible that you’re hers to use and that others ought to steer clear if they know what’s good for them)

she loves it when you’re vocal and will (lightly) punish you for trying to stay quiet without her explicit permission to do so — whether you lean towards being more quiet (whimpers, panting, whispers), or are much louder in bed (moaning, groaning, crying out), minthara loves it all the same because it lets her know that she’s the only one that is making you be that vocal and she isn’t shy about how much that fact inflates her ego

for her own part minthara is never particularly loud but she is very vocal, making sure to narrate everything she’s doing as she does it (or even just before if you’re blindfolded) and that you’re aware of exactly what she thinks of your current state — sometimes that means straight-faced comments about how obviously aroused you are and how it’s clear you’re enjoying yourself, other times her commentary leans towards being more humiliating/degrading/derogatory, occasionally she’ll slip into her native elvish dialect and you won’t be able to tell what’s actually being said beyond general assumptions based on her actions and her tone, and other times it’s a mixture of the two

very rarely will she outright praise you — only when you’re being exceptionally well behaved/good for her or when it’s clear you’re in dire need of encouragement because of something like sub-drop (it’s just… not in her nature to praise you needlessly, so give her some leniency here)

is definitely appreciative of you making an effort to dress up for her, but she has a strong preference for seeing you in leathers over some impractical frilly number — she can appreciate the intricacy of certain lingerie designs, she’s not oblivious after all, but that doesn’t change her thoughts on the matter

[likeabhosz]

JACEGAN BRAINROT HAS TAKEN OVER, I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DOWN SOMEWHERE SJDJSJDJ

I believe we can rework the pact of ice and fire to fit the show canon, just with a different context. In fact, I think it's necessary to have it to push Cregan and the greater northern army back in action towards the end of the war! Walk with me here -

Conditions

- The Battle of the Gullet should, at earliest, occur mid-season and be replaced with minor battles where the Winter Wolves participate in. Jace and the dragonseeds can fight in these battles before getting called to the Gullet. Despite this, Jace should still be skeptical of the dragonseeds - I imagine he'd learn to like Addam, maybe even Hugh, but I don't see him respecting Ulf anytime soon lol.

- Cregan is among the Winter Wolves at first but has to return to Winterfell at some point so that he can march back with a bigger army for the hour of the wolf (can be before or after Jace dies)

Scenario

- Jace and Cregan can take a bit of time to re-establish their friendship during and in between the smaller battles. Jace finally gets someone to talk to about his fears re: possibly facing his own succession war once his mother passes the crown. Cregan swears allegiance to Jace. He tells Jace that his claim is solid and deserved, but if it came to a war, Cregan would back him. Jace may or may not mention the conqueror's dream - it will definitely be a more convincing reason for the Starks to back Rhaenyra's line, but I personally prefer it if their pact hinged less on prophecy and more on their actual relationship.

- boom, PACT. The conditions for this may or not be the same as in the book tbh. Honestly, it wouldn't matter, it went unfulfilled on Jace's part because he died T__T still, Cregan has so far only promised 2000 men to fight for Rhaenyra - as far as his father's oath is concerned, it has been fulfilled and if he wanted to, he can excuse himself to prepare for winter. A renewed pact with Jace will push him to bring a larger army, both to secure Rhaenyra's reign and the claim of her named heir.

On how Cregan goes back to Winterfell, I imagine two scenarios:

- There are problems up north due to winter. Cregan is compelled by whoever he left in charge to come back and fix things. If he leaves before the Battle of the Gullet, he promises to make good on the pact (Jace and Cregan part and promise to meet on the battlefield, then hunt and feast after the war, optimistic vibes huhu). If it's after, the scenario below can also apply.

- Grief-stricken at what happens to Jace, Cregan himself retreats back to Winterfell to build his bigger army to avenge Jace and end the war. The remaining Winter Wolves stay and support Rhaenyra's army.

I kind of want to work all of this into a fic haha, I wish I had the time, lol.

[chirpsythismorning]

Fun fact: In the original pitch for Stranger Things, El had a little brother.

After being rejected by almost 20 studios for the Montauk pilot, the Duffers were finally green-lit by Netflix. It was at this time that they began casting and then writing the first season officially, which included reworking a lot of that first episode.

This led to the removal of the brother reference, and with it, removing any sort of arc El could have had about her apparent brother.

But the thing about this moment, is that it might not have been scrapped entirely...

Going into the final season, no one can explain why or how El recognized Will back in 1x02. And while there are plenty of things on the show that are left unexplained, with a small portion likely left that way with the intention to uncover it later, what sets this moment apart from the rest is that there are very few possibilities here.

Because for starters, the story presents El's ability to see people in the void in s1 as requiring either a picture of that person for reference, or having met that person before.

But when El see's this picture of Will, she's never met him before. Or maybe she has, but we wouldn't know because they never showed us. They could have just not done this scene at all, given that it's clearly a copy/paste/edit of something scrapped from the pitch. Or they could have even still included it, but explained it.

One explanation could be that the lab had shown El a picture of Will before, similar to what they did with the Russian agent they wanted to spy on. But then that begs to question, why would the lab show El a picture of Will? Why would they want to see what he was doing? That alone is incriminating in and of itself, implying that Will is more connected to the lab than we realize.

The only other, and frankly most likely explanation, would be that El stumbled across Will at some point on her journey between escaping the lab and Will going missing. This is actually something that happens in The Other Side comic, which explores all the things Will may have experienced during his time in the Upside Down.

Though it’s worth noting the comics aren’t technically canon, and I highly doubt they would outright spoil everything in relation to Will’s time there, years before it was intended to be revealed. But still, let's humor this for a moment given that I do think Will's time in the UD is going to be very relevant in s5, which means it's highly likely they will finally address how exactly El saw him.

Basically, in the comic, Will see’s El walking through the woods, almost apparition like, glowing as she passes by, while also sporting the Benny’s burgers shirt. This means they would have crossed passed within a short span of time, between when El escaped Benny’s when the agents arrived, but before she was found by the boys.

Though it’s worth noting that we’re seeing this all from Will’s perspective. This means from the UD, Will was capable of seeing El on the other side, despite them being on different sides. And not only that, but she also looks back at him.

What confuses me about this, is that it doesn’t make sense for El to be in the woods, only to randomly decide to pop in to the void for a moment. She was trying to escape the lab and everything that came with it. I doubt she had any desire to lurk back there for some reason, not until someone encouraged her to. Not to mention, it would make no sense for her to go there and see Will if she wasn't even looking for him in the first place. And so this would mean Will and El could see each other, with Will being in the UD, and El being on the other side.

While it does seem pretty far off, given that you would think Will and El wouldn't be able to see each other from different sides, it is true in the story that El not only recognizes Will, but knows that he is in danger. She mentions that he is hiding specifically.

Which means she has likely seen him within the last 24 hours regardless.

This, in combination with Will being able to respond to El in the void at the end of the season in Castle Byers, when no one else outside of Terry and flayed-Billy have been able to, seems to imply that there is indeed something special about Will that makes him capable of communicating with El from the UD. Not only that, but El also seems to have an ability to be in this constant knowing state of how Will is doing, without even checking again to confirm. She's just certain of it. And she seems terrified about it.

Going forward, El never uses a picture of Will to find him. She never did. And more often than not, they don’t show us what she see’s either, not until the very end. And that’s the moment they reveal that he was able to communicate with her.

Again, there was really no reason to have El recognize Will. If anything it complicates things. But the fact that they chose to introduce this concept, with a scene from the original pitch that was related to El’s younger brother, with her pointing at his name cryptically, startling Benny, only to revamp it and have El not say anything at all while pointing at the picture of Will, startling Mike… It just really makes you stop and think.

Which brings me to the other aspect of this that might have people doubting, which is that El’s brother was originally younger than her.

We know Will is not younger than El, so how could this apply to him?

Well, it might be helpful to consider that in the original script, El was actually 10 years old, while the boys were always 12. Meaning that for some reason, they decided to age her up to the age of the boys, aka the same age as Will…

Ever since @erikiara80 shared this brother discovery with me, I have been sort of reeling. It then led to other little discoveries of changes they made between Montauk and Stranger Things.

It’s important to understand that the Montauk bible and the original script precedes what we ended up with in the final product, with it finally changing and evolving months, maybe even a year since that original vision. Even casting occurred before writing started for the first season. We know this because casting announcements were made in June and August of 2015, with writing not starting until August going into early 2016, simultaneously while they were filming.

And believe it or not, what I've discovered is that a lot of the changes they made between their original plans and what we see in the final product, have to do with not only Willel, but also Byler.

If you've read the original script for Montauk, you'll know that Mike's crush on Jennifer Hayes was focused on right from the jump, along with the birthmark on his face being focused on, which was the main cause of the bullying he experienced.

This has actually been talked about recently, and some of the claims people make do fit with what I am genuinely starting to consider here, which is that the initial plan for what makes Mike an outcast shifted.

I think when they completed casting, and started actually deep diving into what they wanted this world to look like, both from a short-term and long-term standpoint, they were presented with some pretty interesting discoveries, arguably already hiding in their initial plans without realizing it.

And this is where it sort of becomes a 'chicken or the egg' situation. Because which one came first? Byler or Willel?

I can't say for certain, because obviously this is all just speculation. But in the case that Willel came first, I think Byler would come very naturally after that.

The Duffers themselves are twins. Then they hire Noah, who is a twin. Then they're thinking and planning for El's past and how her family all fits into this, and they're thinking... wait a damn minute... We could totally Star Wars this bitch!

And then when they think it couldn't get any better, they uncover another layer that they hadn't planned or really considered in their initial plans.

While Will was always going to have sexual identity issues according to the Montauk bible, meaning that the writing process for him likely involved sitting down imagining scenarios that encapsulated this arc for Will from the beginning, they were simultaneously now finding very interesting aspects of Mike's character that made it hard not to at least consider the possiblity that Mike is not exactly straight.

Just think about it. The Byers and Wheelers are basically polar opposites on the spectrum of what a family looks like. While Will's discovery and acceptance of his queerness is interesting to explore because he comes from a low-income, single-mom household, all while having been bullied for years based on his perceived queerness, he also has a mother and brother constantly reinforcing that they will accept him no matter what. They've been sort of hitting us over the head with it for years, and so it wouldn't be very satisfying for his entire arc to merely lead up to something we've known all along. It's pretty much a given at this point.

On the other side of the spectrum, Mike comes from a more upper-middle class family at the end of a cul-de-sac, more aligned with what a nuclear family looks like. Mike's family is also presented as being more conservative, and while Karen does give that very queer-coded speech to Mike in s1 (I'm convinced they only wrote this after deciding to explore queer-coding more heavily with Mike), it also comes with comments from Ted and even still Karen that hint that they are probably not as open-minded and accepting as Will's family is to him. Which means Mike's arc would be a lot more about acceptance around him from his loved ones who we have been led to believe might not be as accepting of his queerness in contrast to Will.

And so as they're putting this story together, and they're being presented with something very interesting. Two similar experiences that play out in different ways because of the characters circumstances.

Will goes missing, and his twin sister with a buzzcut pops up and has the ability to help them find Will.

This leads to several moments where El is being compared to as not only a boy, but Will as well.

Now suddenly, their initial plans to have Mike's arc be about having a girl be interested in him and to hopefully have his first kiss and feel like less of a loser, starts to look a lot like what the experience a queer kid in his position might encounter growing up in the environment that he did.

And if you don't want to take my word for it, just hear the Duffer's themselves hinting at what they initially planned for Mike and the fact that it changed.

The changes don't stop there.

Believe it or not, 'It was a seven', did not exist in the initial pitch. When the boys went outside bickering over Nancy, they leave right after that.

Another thing that changed from the first script, was Scott Clarke's introduction:

And so you might be thinking, who cares? What does that have to do with anything?

Well, it's interesting because the line we end up with on the show is arguably one of the most on the nose Twelvegate proofs to date. Mind you, this is from the first episode:

Why chuck the original version, which was arguably more interesting and fascinating in terms of it hinting at the mysteriousness surrounding this story, only to replace it with him listing off tips about their upcoming test?

Well, I think it's the irony of it all. Here Mr. Clarke is practically telling us where to look to figure stuff out for ourselves what is going on, with all the kids filing out and ignoring him...

I relate to Scott a litttle too much in this shot here, any time I try to drop Willel evidence.

And the changes go on, as they obviously would.

Things like Terry Ives not even being El's mom, but actually a man who more so aligns with the characterization of Murray.

And one very interesting one I almost overlooked was in Hopper's introduction, where instead of a kids drawing done by who we assume to be Sarah, we actually see a picture on the wall of him and his wife and daughter... Interesting that they decided to switch it something that is a lot less definitive in presenting what Hopper's past looked like...

If you've made it this far, congratulations.

If you still think I'm out of my mind, just remember that El was going to have a brother in the original script, but they scrapped the scene and gave a near identical one to introduce her connection to Will instead 😘

[narcoticwriter]

I'm Finally Breaking My Silence.

I can't take it anymore. Someone has to know about this. It's been years since the realization dawned on me and years since I've kept my lips sealed, but I can bear it no longer.

It makes no fucking sense how the tall Genshin women have heels.

This is a meme, but I'm also on something else entirely. Maybe it's delusion.

I don't care if it's for the fanservice, I don't care if it's hot, and I certainly don't care if people like it because it makes no sense whatsoever.

I don't know how people can run around in varying landscapes and roads on heels. I don't know how the heel itself would survive such treatment. And I don't know how the wearer, no matter how skilled, would not trip and fall on their ass.

Some instances can be afforded more forgiveness than others, but this will not stop me from compiling a list of how I feel about them individually and as people:

Actual Insanity -

Beidou: The Alcor is a wooden boat. One day, that heel is slipping through a small hole in the floor, snapping off, and sending her careening across the starboard. Someone's going to laugh. And then they will be tossed into the brine before being pulled back out and promptly begging for forgiveness. I cry.

Jean: The Gunnhildrs are masochists. The pain is worth it for Mondstadt, as always. How does she do it, running around everywhere and carrying the Knights of Favonius on her back? There's no way that she doesn't kick off the boots while sitting at her desk when it becomes too much to bear.

Dehya: When she says that she wants to slay on the battlefield as much as her looks, I did not think that the shoes would also be a thing to consider. And in sand? Are you mad? Those heels are sinking. No wonder her burst cancels when she jumps. Imagine having to rework your precarious footing every single time.

Yelan: This sick woman unironically likes it. She probably enjoys the sensation of pain every single time it becomes borderline pleasurable. It doesn't help that she looks forward to it being treated too. Herbalist Gui is getting really sick of having to wrap her feet in gauze after slathering it with medicinal foot cream.

Rosaria: I don't know if she's capable of caring anymore, actually. She doesn't seem to process this the same. The woman has an aesthetic to commit to and she doesn't do anything halfway, including her fit. She says she doesn't get drunk, but you know damn well that it and the nicotine numb the pain.

Eula: Anyone who says that they can do reconnaissance work and wear those things is lying, and Eula Lawrence is no exception to this rule. To add insult to injury, she also has spurs on them. Spurs on those beasts of shoes. Respectfully, she needs to twist her ankle and be put on bedrest for the day, so she can think about it.

Candace: I can't believe that this mentally brought me to my fucking knees. How dare you? You live in an area that is mostly sand and dust! You go out in the night and kill things! You're constantly out and about taking care of things! WHY ARE YOU IN SUCH HIGH HEELS?!?

Shenhe: (head in hands) I don't even know if she knows that this isn't normal to wear. I'm going to Cloud Retainer's domain and demanding that she be put in something that makes more sense. She lives in the mountains for Archon's sake! She may not act entirely human, but trust me, she is one at the end of the day.

It Makes Some Sense -

Kujou Sara: She's won, actually. Geta are allegedly much more comfortable to wear than heels. She slays, stays stylish, and isn't suffering while doing so. Good for her, because this is one of the only wins she has in a long, long list of L's, mostly attributed to Yae Miko if you take the time to really look at it.

Lisa: Is she really going to be running around all that much? No! Because she has her little helpers to go around and do things for her. And even if she has to go around by herself, she does so at a rate that isn't breakneck speed. Also, I personally believe that she has some potions and enhancements to help out with it.

Ningguang: She barely gets a pass. Barely. I personally don't believe she takes that walk around the pier every day. It's every other day at the most consistent. At every other function, you can trust that she has a seat and that she's not on her feet. She can afford to have such accommodation.

Raiden Shogun: If her body wasn't a puppet that she made for herself, I would absolutely put her in the other category. She absolutely made sure that she wouldn't feel pain while wearing those things and it shows with how she's able to move like she does in combat.

Yae Miko: I won't call it foul and say that since she can shift into a kitsune form, she's not going into this category, but provide the proof in other ways. Do you really see her going anywhere in a hurry? Precisely the point. She could probably get away with people carrying her places.

[AAAAAA] -

Arlecchino: I have no words for the atrocity that is those heels. None at all. If I think about them too much, I'll start frothing at the mouth, and not in any good way.

Conclusion - My heart weeps prematurely for Clorinde and Navia. Fontainian fashion can kiss my ass. I mourn their feet.