#and definitely NOT about fictional characters

[ohnoitstbskyen]

One of the more interesting theories I've seen is "The Arcane is a metaphor for The Narrative, and Act 3 is about the characters breaking away from the path the Arcane set for them". (Admittedly, there's still a good chance that they're going to become something close to their League selves, but for the sake of the fic, "League Canon" is different from "The Predetermined Path The Arcane Has In Mind".)

I mean, that's definitely A Way™ to try and thematically integrate something like Ekko's time travel into the story... but I don't think they should or will do that, because it kinda flies in the face of everything Arcane has otherwise been about.

Arcane has been about how class and systems of power push people to act in certain ways, it has been about privilege and deprivation, it has been about how cycles of violence and trauma forcibly replicate themselves under oppression, and it has been about the ways in which all of those things can push people to become the worst versions of themselves with the absolute best of intentions.

See Silco and Vander both acting out of love for their cities to try and make the best future they can for their children and fellow citizens, and the consequences of both their methods. See Viktor and Jayce trying their damndest to invent something that will make the world better, vs the pain and devastation their Hextech causes in the world.

Season 2 goes HARD on this too - Caitlyn being enabled and very actively pushed by her class position to turn her grief and trauma into authoritarian oppression, Vi letting guilt and obligation push her into becoming a part of it "for the greater good" because she's desperately trying to live up to what Vander taught her by example.

And saying "ah, no wait actually, it is The Narrative Of The Fiction that is causing this to happen to us!" very badly undercuts all of that. The whole narrative up until this point has been about how bad systems make monsters out of good people, and to pull back the curtain, Wizard of Oz style, and find that it was just A Guy doing it, some wilful entity imposing a narrative on the world... that's a very different kind of story.

At worst, it would turn Arcane into metanarrative wank - a corporation jerking itself off over its IPs and cinematic universe, or writers jerking themselves off over how important and powerful writing is, why, it is the most powerful force in the entire world of our fiction! (looking at you, Game of Thrones Season 8).

From the very start, what I have feared the most is that Riot would turn Arcane into a story not about its characters, but a story about the League of Legends™ family of exciting and highly engaging intellectual properties which we are excited to leverage in a cross-brand synergistic market activation. A story whose ultimate point is "buy League of Legends skins and get excited for Phase 2 of the League of Legends Cinematic Universe!"

So yeah... I would like The Arcane to be a thing inside of its own universe and bound by its rules, not a thing which represents the commercial concerns of the world we live in. I hope you are not correct about that interpretation.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 06

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Prisons are noisy.

I went through the security check and was ready for the visit, waiting in a room with several tables where emotional family members awaited their loved ones who could walk through that door at any moment. The minutes on the clock with hands, hanging on the wall in front of me, moved with hypnotizing slowness.

Tick. Tock.

It didn’t take long for her to come, hands restrained by handcuffs and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Not very different from her daughter in physical appearance, even though the daughter was much prettier. I saw her neck stretch as she searched the room for someone she knew, and when she spotted me sitting there waving with a small smile, her posture stiffened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Crystal barked, sitting in a chair across from me. Without any manners, she didn’t even say good morning.

"I found this in a pile of mail and saw you needed a visit." I signaled with the paper between my fingers. Opportunities rarely landed so easily in my lap, but this one was worth thanking the gods for.

"But it wasn’t your visit I asked for! Where is my daughter?"

"Was there a problem with your watch? You’re nine years late to ask if she’s found a place to live!"

"That’s none of your business!"

"Everything concerning her is my business. Don’t be ridiculous!" I said, loosening my tone slightly.

Crystal looked around uneasily. Her nails were dirty with soil, and she looked sweaty—I guessed it was from the prison’s activities. Clearly, the days here weren’t treating her well, judging by her expression and the size of her dark circles.

"How did you end up here?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "No… wait! Let me guess! This is definitely your idiot boyfriend's fault, isn't it?

"I need to talk to my daughter," she completely ignored my sarcasm and dragged the chair closer to the table.

"Don’t tell me you’re hoping for her help to get out of here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Her silence made it inevitable for me to burst into laughter, shaking my head slowly. Leaning forward, I rested on my elbows on the table to speak as quietly as possible.

"You know when I’ll let you get near her again?" I whispered into her wide eyes. "Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You realized you’re alone, and she might be your only source of money and a ticket out of here. Only for you to then go after that man and keep ranting about her on social media like a lunatic, giving even more material for the people who hate her to make her life a hell!"

It was impossible not to notice the sudden change in her expression. With me, she could show her true face without hesitation. Playing the victim wouldn’t work.

"And what makes you think you have the right to come here and tell me what to do?" she questioned, lifting her chin as if she were in a position to challenge me. "I don’t think we’re that different when you took advantage of my daughter’s open door to keep destroying the little she had left!"

"EVERYTHING THAT FUCKED HER HEAD UP UNTIL NOW IS YOUR FAULT!" I spat, pointing a finger at her. From the corner of my eye, I saw the guard adjust his position as the conversation escalated. "No matter what I did to fix it, you always seemed to be there like a damn shadow to remind her where she came from!"

"I’m sorry if you wasted nine years of your life, boy."

Suddenly, that sentence felt like a shock through a high-voltage wire, and I stood frozen, staring at the apathetic face of the woman in front of me. I couldn’t say for sure if I had wasted nine years of my life while we were together, when I knew nothing but her. No other feelings, no other touch—nothing that didn’t come from her. All because I refused to live something different, something that didn’t include her, even if it meant facing hell every day.

I blinked a few times and clenched my fists before my thoughts could drag me into a place I couldn’t return from now.

"If it’s up to me, you’ll rot in this place, and I’ll do everything to keep her further away from any news about you."

Crystal swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting nervously, tensing as my presence loomed over her. I leaned down to leave one last message in her ear.

"And I’m sure you’re still in touch with that boyfriend of yours. Don’t forget to tell him he can’t keep running from me forever," I whispered with satisfaction, hiding a little laugh.

Slowly, I straightened up and looked down at her one last time, seeing her as still as a statue, staring blankly at the table. I stepped back gradually and walked toward the exit, dreaming of the moment I’d finally rid myself of that place with its strange smell.

When I arrived at the studio, the band was in their respective spots, rehearsing on their own. Everyone was laughing at something that quickly lost its charm the moment I crossed the door, as if a dark cloud had invaded their colorful world.

Chewing my gum with more intensity, I hardened my expression as soon as I saw Landon sitting on one of the stools, like an audience interacting with the performance on the small stage in the center of the room.

I didn’t miss for a second that his eyes—and his stupid, unfunny jokes—were directed at one single person, who seemed to find joy in even the wind brushing through her hair. I shot him a brief glare that could have pierced his body while the energy drink can in my palm seemed to disappear under my grip. We worked at the same record label. He was the owner's son and the vocalist of some irrelevant band. Naturally, we didn’t get along.

“You’re late, Noah!” The lone feminine voice broke our eye contact, and I turned to join the others. I didn’t bother looking at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched her adjusting her guitar while he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

More precisely, off her long, tattooed legs, exposed by a short plaid skirt.

“I’ve got a watch,” I replied.

An awful silence filled the room in seconds, and Folio broke it with a casual drumbeat, a habit whenever we traded jabs.

“And you, Landon?” I asked while checking the microphone setup. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I remember booking this space just for my band today.”

“No one complained about me being here before. We’re just hanging out, chatting, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry about it,” he said, smirking. “Ruffilo was giving me a few tips.”

It felt like my face had been plunged into a tub of lava, the heat rising so fiercely in my cheeks. If the mic stand could talk, it would probably beg me to stop gripping it so tightly.

“I don’t see any problem with Landon watching the rehearsal.” Strangely, she seemed overly agreeable today, her sultry tone almost convincing if I weren’t paying attention. Actually, I knew perfectly well why she was acting so liberally—she was high.

“But I do,” I snapped without taking my eyes off him, still lounging in his seat like he owned the place. “We already have enough issues with band members getting distracted, and the last thing I need is a pest hanging around!”

“Buzzkill.”

I caught a whispered insult from afar, followed by their shared laughter, which only fueled my rage.

Jolly and I exchanged glances, and I was sure he was thinking exactly the same thing I was.

“I won’t ask you to leave again!” If my eyes had the power to kill, his body would have been shattered to pieces by now.

“Okay, okay! See you later...” He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging in mock surrender. “Oh, Noah, almost forgot—I’m hosting a little party at my place, just something casual with friends. It’d be cool if you came with the rest of the band.”

And who said we were friends?

“See you there!” Folio shouted from the back of the room.

Landon nodded, and just before leaving, I noticed him brush his hand against hers in a slow enough motion for her to take whatever he handed her and tuck it into her pocket. I took a deep breath as the door shut, leaning my head against the microphone stand with my eyes closed while my bandmates silently gestured to one another to start playing.

“It’s too late…” she began, testing the microphone.

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Okay, okay!” Jolly intervened. “It’s fine; we’ll start over.”

The intro of Take Me First started again, and I saw her clear her throat, straightening her posture as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Even after all these years, she still warmed up incorrectly, yet her voice seemed to defy every logical explanation, getting better every time despite her doing everything wrong.

Every time she opened her mouth and delivered a line, my mind entered some hypnotic state. My body didn’t care about the destination, as long as she was guiding the journey with her characteristic husky, dramatic tone.

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I ordered. “Start again.”

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I repeated. “You’re still coming in at the wrong time!”

Her lips trembled as she huffed in frustration, and without saying a word, she excused herself, marching across the room to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Have you lost it? She’s coming in at the right time, according to the new intro!” Jolly snapped, impatient. “If you’re going to nitpick, at least point out real mistakes!”

“Jolly’s right, man. Chugging all that energy drink is probably messing with your chakras!” Folio teased, punctuating his words with a playful cymbal crash.

“Folio, where did you even get the idea that energy drinks can do that?” Ruffilo asked, spinning his neck around with a puzzled expression.

“Let’s continue the rehearsal,” I said over my shoulder, watching them exchange glances.

“But she hasn’t come back yet…”

“If it mattered to her, she’d be here. Let’s go!”

Without questioning, they returned to their positions, and the intro started again. I cracked my neck from side to side before leaning into the microphone. During the opening bars, I closed my eyes, trying my hardest to pretend she was in some parallel space where her shadow couldn’t reach me.

But all it took was opening my eyes to collide with reality.

The bathroom door was still shut.

After practice, everyone grabbed their things and left for their destinations.

I have to admit, I felt betrayed, but screw it.

Lying on the couch in the living room, nothing seemed to hold my attention. I couldn’t watch a movie, couldn’t read, or even jot something down in a notebook because even the sound of the pencil scratching the paper annoyed me. I picked up the guitar and placed it on my thigh, hoping silence might serve as inspiration, and on the first chord, my luck had the string snap.

“Shit.”

I sighed, bored, banging my head against the back of the couch. On the floor, there was a pile of crumpled-up balls of paper from all my failed attempts at composing something. My mind was emptier than my stomach.

“I hope your little party is awful, sweetheart,” I murmured sarcastically to myself. Maybe talking to myself was the last stage before fully surrendering to madness.

The light of headlights in the garage caught my attention through the window. Judging by the incessant chatter, it was the guys—they were laughing and coming inside with parallel conversations and an armful of grocery bags. When I came face-to-face with them, I did a mental roll call, frowning when I noticed someone was missing.

“Huh,” I hesitated, crossing my arms and leaning against the couch. “Weren’t you all at the same party?”

“No, we changed our minds and went to the supermarket,” Ruffilo shrugged, lifting the bags. Suddenly, all the smiles disappeared. “She’s not here?”

My feet went numb, and for a moment, I thought I was floating, the ground vanishing beneath them. What pounded in my chest could easily be mistaken for the echo of a drum, grating against my ears. I didn’t fully understand why, but there was an unsettling itch beneath my skin that spread throughout my body, like a thousand needles piercing all at once.

“Shit.”

“Noah, where are you going?” one of them shouted, but I was already out the door and in the car, turning the ignition with the same speed I left the garage.

I was definitely speeding, but my vision felt too blurred on the city’s narrow streets as I swerved past car after car. The tightness in my chest gripped me diagonally, and I used my finger to loosen the collar of my shirt, trying my best to breathe in slowly and stay focused on the road.

Every time I heard a horn, it had the power to jolt me back to reality, preventing my car from crashing into another on the shoulder. The closer I got to the address, the more my agony escalated, and the harder it became to fight against the paralysis threatening my body.

I parked in the first available spot I found. Cars were haphazardly positioned with no room to maneuver, so I had to vault over a few hoods to get through. Loud music and a dense crowd amidst smoke—the party at Landon’s was so packed and noisy it was impossible to hear my own thoughts. Dodging a few girls drinking and bumping into a guy, I ended up with an entire drink spilled over my hoodie.

He was ready to curse me out but paused when he looked up and smiled.

“Noah? Noah Sebastian?” he squinted, double-checking what he was seeing. “Hey man, would you mind taking a picture with me? My sister loves—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, turning my back on him, breathless, my heart hammering at a wild rhythm. It felt like I was getting closer.

Instinctively, I decided to head upstairs. On my way, I ran into Landon. He was stumbling over his own feet, wearing star-shaped glasses, nearly collapsing onto me. Luckily, I pushed him off just in time, throwing a punch that sent him sprawling onto the floor, creating a circle in the crowd.

Shaking my fist in the air and ignoring the murmurs, I took the stairs two steps at a time. As I reached the hallway, my insides twisted in dread over what I might find. Kicking open the first door, I found a couple—clean. The second door revealed some people passed out. The third was empty, aside from the mess.

That left me with only one option.

At the end of the hall, there was only one white door, which I assumed was a bathroom. I forced the golden doorknob and found it locked. Panic flared through my body. I slammed my shoulder against the wood, breaking through on the second try.

The music became just a distant echo.

And my heart was on the verge of stopping.

It was impossible not to collapse onto the wet floor beside her as soon as I saw her pale, unconscious body with liquid trickling from her lips. Despite my panic and groans of anguish, I forced myself to check her pulse. I abandoned every rule about not touching her again, cradling her in my arms and thrusting my fingers into her mouth to reach her throat. But there was nothing to pull out, and even if there had been, she was too limp to expel it.

“No. No. No. No,” I repeated in desperation, holding my phone to my ear while dialing emergency services. “Stay with me. Keep breathing. Please. Please. Please!”

I had no idea if I was doing the right things, but I was alone and couldn’t think of anything else besides needing her to come back. Her face was so sunken I could see the blue veins stark against her skin. Her well-shaped lips were dry and cracked, contradicting the increasingly shallow breaths escaping her nose.

“Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing,” I kept repeating, pressing my lips to her forehead, feeling something wet and salty transfer between us as the hold music played in my ear. “Please, my little storm.”

The music outside drowned out my cries of pain—not physical, though. My body felt numb, like enduring a long episode of cramps. All the pain was internal, dissolving as I watched her grow colder in my arms.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75

[deanmarywinchester]

okay too-earnest longpost about erotica below the cut. everyone look away

this has definitely been said before i just needed to articulate my thoughts on it but. the operative fantasy of a huge percentage of explicit fic isn’t falling in love, or specific kinks, it’s “a novel sexual experience, that I don’t have to negotiate or ask for, that completely turns my brain off (and kinks on/undoes my deep-seated psychological issues) in a way I didn’t previously know I needed.” from my limited experience with romance novels there’s some overlap but some stuff here feels specific to fic. and obviously this is a huge generalization, caveat that it applies /in general/ to the more popular fics in the mostly-genre fiction fandoms ive been part of in the last ten years, etc etc. Okay.

there’s a lot I could raise as examples here but one is this specific ofmd fic (for all ofmd created one of the most embarrassing fandoms ever it also brought some of the most talented and deranged fic writers out of the woodwork). in it, Izzy Hands, mr. pain kink dogmotif himself, stops pining for his boss Ed to care about him long enough to have mindbogglingly unsafe sex with a certain pirate from a different tv show, which makes ed crazy enough to give izzy what he actually wanted. and I have no actionable desire to be kept at knifepoint and bitten bloody but this fic is still blisteringly hot because 1) it’s a fantasy of someone immediately and unspokenly clocking what gets you off (in a way nobody, maybe even you, has before) and 2) it gets at izzy’s issues re: nobody liking him enough to claim him and the fact that he desires pain as a proxy for that kind of claiming

and I feel like this is why the “it was nothing like kissing a woman—women were Soft and Feminine while kissing Guy McMan was like Sandpaper and Whiskey” thing that we all make fun of now was an extant trope — it’s the misogyny, yes, but it’s also the novelty, the “i never knew I wanted this before but knowing that I want it has fixed me.” as a supernatural fandom scholar I can use the fandom popularity of rhonda hurley’s, uh, contribution to dean winchester’s psyche as another example here. and as a throuple scholar this is also the power behind leverage’s Hardison/Parker/for-the-first-time Eliot fic, and challengers “any two of us are at each others’ throats but add the third and for the first time I feel completely understood” fic. novelty! someone knowing you in a way you don’t have to ask for or explain to them! with your dick out!

and the second part of the phrase, “a novel sexual experience that kinks on/undoes your psychological issues” is also a big part of the fantasy, like. this is why it’s fun for people to start a new piece of media and point a “praise kink” beam at the guy who’s never felt good enough, or hit characters who grew up under oppressive institutional authority with hammers the cat o’nine tails.

and marinating in this soup does funny things to your sexual development. as a longtime fic reader you might not end up with a forcefem kink but instead a “watching The Character realizing they have a forcefem kink” kink. I don’t have a thing for pain, I have a thing for “being in someone else’s brain as they experience pain as sexual for the first time and get an endorphin high.” much different disorders that can come from getting your sex ed from worse places than extremely online writers but disorders nonetheless

[timberlakefan96]

“Bitch, where the fuck are the other grimy detective games?”

Are you serious right now.

LA Noire, Shadows of Doubt, Heavy Rain, Fahrenheit, Hotel Dusk, The Wolf Among Us, The Sinking City, Pathologic, Judgement, The Gabriel Knight series, the Batman Arkham series if you want to count it, and then if you’ll allow me to stretch the definitions of “detective” And “grime” just a bit in either direction, you’ve got the Phoenix Wright series, Ghost Trick, What Remains of Edith Finch, Detroit become Human, The Silent Hill series, The Sexy Brutale, Cyberpunk 2077, the Witcher series, Paradise Killer, every Lucasarts adventure game ever made (give or take), the Deus Ex series, Famicom Detective Club, Alan Wake 1&2, and that’s all ignoring the fact that the original tweet didn’t even say “games”, she said “stories”, which, please don’t make me recap the long history of the Murder Mystery genre and pulp fiction.

Also Harry IS a middle-aged white guy. Like, I get where you’re coming from, and he’s definitely not the Nathan Drake style action hero Everyman, but his white-middle-aged-male-ness, and his abject fear of his own internalized mediocrity from the same is the springboard for his entire character arc.

Also also, the tweets didn’t even say she DISliked it, or wants to change it, just that it would be cool if this level of quality and style of gameplay was used in another, additional, tertiary game with a less well-warn hook, which as far as takes about DE go is is…fine? Harmless, at best? She didn’t say anything about systemic oppression, or politics, or softening the messages, or really anything about the story and themes, other than she liked it. There’s a whoooooole lot of putting words into mouths that don’t belong there.

I dunno, there’s a lot of dog-piling going on here that just smacks of typical GAMER(tm)-flavored “love my favorite game or die” pretentious bullshit, which is probably the bigger sin. You can’t tell me Harry Dubois wouldn’t also rather be a girl looking for her kitten in a small village in the alps.

I hope the "What if Disco Elysium was about a witch finding her cat in the mountains" post never leaves the gaming discourse vernacular. It will never not be funny to me bc it's got all the Gamer Entitlement™ levels of CoD bros throwing hissy fits about "woke" shit but instead of being couched in far right reactionism it's the exact kind of "Kingdom of Conscience" style liberal outrage at anything with conviction and beliefs that DE waxed on about. Like even chuds who get mad that the game calls you out for being racist interact with the themes of DE better and understand them more than Cat Lady did.

[cyandreamzaceattorney]

✦ AA girls getting boba tea ✦

A few days ago I felt like drawing Ema, Kay, Maya and Franziska hanging out and drinking boba tea, cuz I really like the idea of these four having a friendship group :-D however, I unfortunately couldn't fit all four characters in so I (mostly) cut Franziska from the pic. Sorry Fran fans! I do love her but, I wanted to draw the other three girls a bit more (cuz that's just the mood I was in) and didn't want to stray away from this specific concept as I felt really inspired to draw them walking while chatting with boba tea.

Overall I do like how this picture came out, even if I definitely rushed it a bit (I think this was mostly because I got hyped over getting time to draw again, cuz I've been busy on and off). Unfortunately I lost my favourite brush liner before doing lineart on this and halfway threw my other liner magically dried up! So that was frustrating but, I worked around it and want to regain confidence in using fine liners so kind of a useful problem lol. I also decided to change up how I draw Kay in my art style a little and I think I like it :3 And, really like the outfits I gave the girls. Even if they are simple. They're also summer outfits because Australia is once again breaking the record for hottest summer (and it's still technically spring (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)). Fun fact, Ema is wearing a striped shirt as a reference to the stripe motifs in her aai design!

Now time for boba tea hc's cuz why not XD. Maya has a Taro milk tea with the regular black pearls, because it's purple and in my mind Taro and chocolate being her favourite flavours just makes sense. Kay has a iced tea with lychee jelly (mainly cuz I didn't feel like colouring the jelly but I see Kay liking lychee), idk what flavour her tea is, but it's probably a fruit flavour cuz in my experience ice teas are often fruit flavours. I also have the random hc that whenever Kay gets boba around Miles she gets a weird combo (e.g. chocolate milk tea with green apple pearls) just to see his upset reaction lol.

Ema and Franziska also have boba, you just can see it cuz Ema has them in a shopping bag which Kay is in front of. As for flavours, Ema's is definitely chocolate milk tea cuz her snacks in the English version of the games seem to be similar to tee vee snacks (idk if tee vee snacks are a thing in us, if they aren't they are small long cookies cotted in chocolate, kinda like pocky but much shorter, but thicker and fully coated) though I can also see her getting brown sugar with black pearls. Franziska I could see getting something like the regular tea flavour (which is called "Thai tea" or "original flavour" depending on the boba shop I go to) with no pearls or jelly because in my mind she doesn't like them :P, in general I don't think she'd like a lot of sweet flavours but that's because I hc her as not liking sweet food for no logical reason, my brain has simply decided this ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Hope you all enjoy this drawing and my super austic ramble about what boba tea I think these fictional characters drink XD

Next traditional drawing will be in a new sketcbook as I'm almost finished this one (and the last pages won't be as fanart so I won't post them here). I'm shocked cuz I haven't finished a sketchbook in less than a year for several years now! But this makes sense because I drew a lot this year for several reasons :-P

[catras-breakup-song]

i’m not gonna lie… i’m lost here. is this supposed to be an 4nt1/cr1t1c4l post? if so, i genuinely don’t understand the point being made.

is it that playful banter is a bad thing? is it that being too hands-on violates unspoken boundaries? the message is so unclear to my autistic ass…

oh, wait, OP provided tags:

so aside from the fact that they are absolutely not sisters by default, least of all canonically (even if you do interpret them that way somehow), nor was it ever intended by nate stevenson, i’m still having trouble figuring out how this is problematic.

in which ways is lighthearted touch totally contradictory to passionate kissing/caressing? why can’t partners who are dating do both, especially in different cultural environments such as the horde where intimacy is discouraged and friendly sparring with familiar peers is a safe expression? if it’s so different, what are we as the audience supposed to interpret from their style of physical affection by the final season? side note, but aren’t we supposed to consider the latest version of anything in general as the most accurate?

now i have a question lol, did you take this moment literally at her word, and all the other times she repeated it?

also, my friend just pointed out that this is the classic homophobic talking point of "they seem to just be very good friends! they were roommates!" lmao. i've never agreed with accusing anyone who cr1t1c1z3s catradora of lesbophobia, which i'm not doing necessarily, because that's simply not how it works, however i found this funny and partially true so i'm keeping it in.

the lip bite was included unintentionally 👀

anyway, as i’ve discussed on this blog before, i’m very arospec and it’s inseparably intwined with my identity itself; i also project that onto catra. something we often bring up in that community, is romance-favorability (as its own spectrum of range all the way to blatant repulsion btw) — which is a personal preference that’s defined as exactly as it sounds like and occasionally revolves around fictional depiction as separate from one's own reality — and arguably more importantly, amatonormativity — which is an arbitrary set of rules for romantic expectations set up by an alloromantic society. this is typically thought of as common denial of the idea that someone could actually want to separate themself from needing a life partner in marriage, but can very much be applied to an annoying list of what draws the line between romantic & platonic relationships. that line is very individualistic and is to be decided on such a level only, and it doesn’t even get into what queerplatonic means, a concept saved for another day!

my point is, the OP seems to be trying to claim that catradora objectively cannot be read as romantic because their dynamic growing up & early-on in the story doesn’t perfectly meet socially-constructed standards of what that should look like. i say we need to eradicate those standards altogether! it’s up to catradora to decide what they are, if anything specific at all, not us as the audience — assuming they could’ve had the words at their disposal to knowingly describe it. going back to my earlier paragraph above about how limited they were in the fright zone, i’ll borrow a quote from a comment i made on one of my recent reblogged posts (which is a great meta on how their mutual desire was uh... definitely not platonic):

"Catra and Adora’s desire for one another is shown in a variety of ways, mostly indirect. There are a lot of glances - until season 5, not the kind of open leering at one another that we’d seen between other characters. Mostly it’s fairly playful - wiggled or cocked eyebrows, glances at each other while smirking, that kind of thing, or really intense and somewhat angry glares when they’re fighting."

it's really bothering me that i can't recall where i read this from before, but someone analyzed before how, growing up, catra & adora didn't have a good sense of how to label their relationship with accurate terminology despite being subconsciously aware that they, whether they knew the other reciprocated or not, loved each other "like that." unfortunately, they couldn't further explore it because such love & affection was seen as a punishable weakness in the horde, so they resorted to the only safe option they seemed to have, which was subtle body language and play-fighting as [testudoaubrei-blog] described above.

also, since this screenshot is included in that post... i would be amused to read an explanation of how THIS LOOK from catra is "platonic with a capital P", because i'm not even sure if it's up for debate to be quite honest with you:

ESPECIALLY with the "i always have!" line (which 4nt1s like to doubt, but i don't care, it's official!):

[cosmic-canines]

i know i love you (im just not sure how)

a poem attempting to define hazy, indescribable feelings (which is definitely NOT about fictional characters, not at all, not me i could never)

i suppose it all began because you were there. you always were there, and i guess i finally realized that. it was dark. so very dark. and i knew you were afraid of the dark, but i asked you to rescue me anyways. i knew it was selfish, but then again, you were always the light, weren't you?

i struggle with feelings, you know that. they're big and complex, and i am just a boy in a world that makes me feel small. when i first felt these things i thought i could shake it. but the more i try to escape, the more i draw closer. and the more i try to figure us out, the less i really understand. i know i love you, im just not sure how. is it love like a birthday card, is it more like close friends? or closer to a love letter, will i see that in the end? maybe i am wrong, and this is not love at all. do i just need you because i have no one else to catch me when i fall? i keep failing to find words, to explain my reeling mind, i keep failing to discern, if our stars align. and if i know you well, then i know that you are too, i guess its still a world where we all just live confused. i know i love you, im just not sure how. ive searched this place for answers in all the ways the earth allows, and now i'm lost again, but with this feeling, ill make do; i guess i'm okay to be lost, so long as i'm lost with you. i still don't know what this is, or why it falls on me but i know when i'm with you i am truly feeling free. so now we're lost in these vast cosmos, i'm sure we'll be just fine i may not know the answers, but i'm happy you're still mine.

[sparvverius]

i'm intentionally out of the loop for any and all frevblr beef but it seems just a little bit silly to me to say that there's a "fanon" version of these historical figures and that people should like the REAL version instead. cause like. unfortunately the real version has passed on from this life.... so has every person that knew them....... we think and talk of these people in a speculative and interpretive way not out of preference but because that is the only way that anyone can have any access to them at all anymore! however if you ARE communing with the real saint-just PLEASE let me know

[thelonelynindroid]

He's so caffeine dependent. I need him

[buckleygrace118]

the new video from oliver and ryan on the 911 set is making me think thoughts. I saw someone say that they are on madneys terrace and I don't know if that's true. I have bad memory. but what if buck and eddie get invited to maddie and chims house for dinner and they just keep acting like boyfriends the entire time. like full on love-dovey stuff. and maddies just staring at her brother like you just broke up with your ex bf at least try to act broken hearted about it. and chim isn't even surprised at this point bc this is just every day for him. and maybe we get a maddie eddie scene where they connect and talk about chris or something. that would actually be so beautiful. I WANT IT!

[anim-ttrpgs]

I want to provide an example of a dungeon crawl for the people who have only been exposed to dungeon crawling through shitty D&D5e modules or bad games of telephone about what classic dungeon crawling looks like.

I’m gonna try not to go into too much detail just because if I do, I’ll be here all day and night because this campaign is so good and all of the characters have so much depth but I still have to give context. (welp, i made it pretty fucking long anyway, but I think it paints a clearer picture that way.)

This is an mildly homebrewed* AD&D2e “troupe campaign” with rotating DMs starring a fictional band of mercenaries called the White Company(not to be confused with the actual White Company or the other fictional White Company) in an alternate history 1390s-1430s England with elves and wizards and shit. I’m really getting to put my Masters in medieval history and culture to good use for once. There’s a rotating cast of characters, as parties are formed from the larger pool of characters in the White Company to undertake mercenary jobs.

*one of the biggest homebrew rules we use is that there is no magical resurrection. Instead of dying instantly with the expectation that they can be magically revived later, characters who fall to 0 HP must receive medical attention from somebody who has the Healing skill immediately, and make a Constitution-based roll to see if they can pull through. If they don’t die, they still permanently lose 1 point of Constitution and must spend weeks or months recovering before they can fight again.

This is happening in a real 1979 D&D adventure module, adapted slightly to fit our setting, but it’s still genuine classic dungeon crawling. The DM is sticking closely to it and just presenting the sandbox for the PCs to do stuff in.

TL;DR: (also spoilers. Skip the TL;DR if you want to read this as a narrative without knowing what happens)

A classic dungeon crawl is not just a dull slog through a bunch of rooms full of monsters and back-to-back boring slap-fight combat. One may encounter:

>yes, monsters, definitely. Some will be out in the open, some will ambush the party, and some will be easy to ambush by the party, but rarely is fighting and killing them the only option. Combat happens either when the party screws up, or when they initiate it on their own terms.

>other adventurers looting the same dungeon

>hidden treasure

>monsters that are basically a trap and puzzle themselves and can’t be fought by just making attack rolls at them

>monsters that can be talked to and negotiated with

>environmental storytelling that can also be hints about hidden traps, monsters, etc.

>boobytraps

>secret doors

>plenty of moments for the characters' personalities to shine

(END OF SPOILERS)

The White Company is currently under the employ of a certain castillan who is having to fight against a pretender to his claims to his lands. The lord that this castellan owes fielty has noticed that a certain village has stopped paying their taxes, and asked the castellan to deal with it. The castellan told the White Company, currently on his payroll, and the White Company sent a small group of mercenaries to either investigate or rough the peasants up until they pay. (Medieval mercenaries nor classic D&D adventurers were exactly heroes. Members of the White Company have engaged in some real moving acts of heroism in this campaign but that’s a different story.)

The White Company party consisted of 8 PCs, because AD&D expects bigass parties. We‘ve had parties of up to 13 PCs before in this campaign, because this is before D&D got embarrassed about its wargaming ancestry. This might sound scary but honestly AD&D2e does not make it hard for a player to play multiple characters at once. It’s expected.

Anyway, they passed a ransacked wagon on the road while traveling to the village. When they got to the village, everything was just fine, no great plumes of smoke or burninated peasants. So they asked the village headman what the deal was, and he was like “What do you mean? We sent the taxes last week.”

Well, that was the ransacked wagon. Here I’m going to start really fast-forwarding.

The White Company mercs did some investigating and found out who sacked the wagon, kicked their asses and ran them off, and discovered just the slightest hint that there was more to this story..

More investigation, a discovery that there’s a greater conspiracy afoot, a fight with two spies that left Elora the Elf bedridden under the care of the local barber-surgeon after getting stabbed in the gut(one party member down.)

Fast-forwarding more. They discover that the old abandoned fort that’s full of monsters is actually where a contingent of the bad guys have made their forward operating base. This abandoned castle is supposedly full of monsters ever since the calamity that made everything full of monsters but that’s another story too. God I’m bad at brief stories. Anyway the bad guys have some tricks for avoiding the monsters on their way in and out apparently.

So, it’s time for the White Company to assault that abandoned castle. That’s a dungeon, and now it’s dungeon crawling time. Using a huge amount of money they found during the investigation, they subcontract some more mercenaries, a party from the Badger Company, and also convince the village headman to levy some peasant militiamen.

Now the party is 24-strong, almost half of that being archers.

I’m fast-forwarding some more. They had a little.. incident where they ran into a group of adventurers trying to loot the place, mistook them for the bad guys, and shot two of them with crossbow bolts. Luckily, and due to the medical skills of some of the party, those two survived, but one of them will be on crutches for a while. After that embarrassing misunderstanding, they find the way down into the lower floors of the castle, but before they go, they want to make sure there’s no chance of anything coming behind them, so they investigate every room on the upper floor. Ordinarily, going around provoking everything in a dungeon and having back-to-back combat encounters would be inadvisable, but they’re 24 men strong. They find a room full of giant rats and shoot them to death with crossbow bolts. They find a giant lizard thing asleep on a rock and shoot it to death with crossbow bolts. They find a giant snake in its nest and shoot it to death with crossbow bolts. Then a giant tick drops from the ceiling and bites into Abigail, the youngest White Company member present, right through her mail armor. They stab it to death but its sucker thing is buried deep in there and they can’t just pull it out because it’s got barbs. She was at very low HP after the initial bite and just ripping the thing out could easily nick the artery and kill her. Luckily, Herr Rike(Fighter-Thief) and all around unpleasant woman, is also a barber-surgeon, and several of the spellcasters can provide a limited amount of magical healing. She had to strip down while the men averted their eyes and stood watch. While Abigail, teary-eyed, bit down on the shaft of a crossbow bolt, Rike was able to carefully cut the thing out of her, with magical healing coming right after to ensure that this doesn’t, well, completely disable the use of her arm. After a few moments of recovery (accelerated by the magic), Abigail got dressed again, and soon had the gruff men of the Badger Company clapping her on the back and congratulating her for making it through that. “We’ve all been there!” “Yer a real mercenary now!” “That’ll put some hair on yer chest, figuratively!”

(I’m making sure to include all this stuff in detail to dispel the myth that “dungeon crawling means no roleplaying.” That part kinda was “back-to-back combat” but only because the party went out of their way to find every monster, all of which could’ve been avoided otherwise.)

Each of these encounters lasted like 1 combat round and less than 15 minutes of real time even with that many characters, because AD&D2e combat doesn’t fucking suck.

There was some treasure to find too, pretty valuable stuff, but for the sake of this not being even more overly long the only thing I’m going to mention is a large jug of lamp oil.

Descending the stairs, a man and woman of the Badger Company were suddenly dropped down on by two acidic green slimes. The party quickly discovered that these could not be conventionally attacked, especially not while they’re clinging to the distressed Badger Company members. Slicing and stabbing the slimes with swords does nothing obviously, and risks further injuring their allies.

Thinking quickly, Abigail has the idea to try scraping and shoveling the slime off with her shield, which kind of works, and everyone with a shield follows suit. The slimed Badger Company mercs survive, managing to avoid total disfigurement too, but are in no condition to continue. Their armor and helmets and weapons have been ruined by the acid and they’ve lost a lot of skin. Everyone whose shield was used to shovel off the slime also lost their shields as the acid ruined them.

The man and woman that got slimed had to go up stairs and wait for the return of the larger group, it was a really good thing that the party checked every corner of the upper floor and killed anything that could be a danger to two unarmed and critically wounded people. Herr Rike was the one who told them to go upstairs as she poured water over their wounds, washing away acid and chunks of melted skin, and, sarcastically in her horrible voice, said that everyone would vouch for the woman’s virginity.* Herr Rike’s voice “sounds like a saw.”

*In the Middle Ages, an unmarried woman’s virginity was pretty important to her societal respect, and if she was left alone with a lone man for too long, someone may call her virginity into question. Of course the joke here is that everyone knows that no matter what, they aren’t going to get it on while bits of their skin are still sliding off. None of the Badger Company thought it was very funny.

With the slimes pooled on the ground, they were hardly a threat, they’re super slow and you could just sorta step around them, but they still needed to be dealt with to not become a problem later. Herr Rike went back upstairs and got that jug of lamp oil and poured it on and around the slimes and lit them on fire. That killed them.

So now the party is down two fighters and nearly all of their shields.

It’s dark down here obviously, and several people are carrying torches. Going is a bit slower in the poor lighting. Herr Rike makes a Detect Noise* check. She hears something like faint grinding of stone to the east. This huge band of armed and armored men coming into the castle has definitely made a ton of noise, so Rike’s impression of this sound is that the bad guys have heard them coming, and hid behind some kind of secret door in the stone walls. She tells everyone to keep a look out for any weird cracks in the walls.

*AD&D2e doesn’t have Perception like D&D5e. If it’s in front of them they can see it, if it’s making noise they can hear it, if it stinks they can smell it, etc. However, characters of the Thief class can make a skill check to listen closely for the chance to hear extremely faint sounds that wouldn’t normally be audible.

They check a few yards to the west first, finding two sturdy doors with fine, brand new inset locks on them. Rike tries, but fails to get through these in any way, so they move on to the south and find a long hallway full of cell doors. In the cells are months-old rotten corpses with visible wounds in most of them. It doesn’t look like the starved to death. The stench is almost overwhelming so they turn back and go north to the last door.

To the north they go through a room filled with, like, garbage. Dirt, broken bits of wooden furniture, rotten animal hides, and even what might be feces. Everyone is checking the ceilings carefully now too after the tick and the slimes, and this ceiling looks like it’s on its way to caving in, but not any immediate danger. They go to a door on the far end of the garbage room and open it. All the while, Herr Rike is checking for traps both passively* and actively. There don’t seem to be any traps, but the stench of the next room still hits them like a wall and makes Abigail and some of the others gag. It smells like “unwashed flesh,” in modern terms, it smells like a Magic: The Gathering tournament in there. Rike is unphased, and hisses out into the darkness “Come out, I can smell you.”

*Like I said before about perception, the main way to check for traps is just the player asking the DM “does my character see any weird stones on the floor ahead? Can he see a tripwire behind the door? When he opens the door, can he nudge it open with his sword while standing to the side in case anything shoots out?” and so on, but Thieves can also make skill checks to passively notice them on top of that.

After a few seconds, there’s a loud, low growl from the far corner. “I can smell you too..”

An enormous, grotesque figure steps into the edge of the torchlight. He’s easily nine feet tall and looks like if you took an already large man and stretched him out in all the wrong ways. He’s wearing a loincloth and a huge cape of animal hide, and carrying a full sized halberd that he’s big enough to use as a one-handed weapon. He scrapes it along the ground menacingly, making a horrible sound, but not the same sound that Rike heard earlier with her Detect Noise ability.

Rike doesn’t back away, but holds her crossbow casually in the crook of her arm. They’re about 10 feet from each other. She says in her hoarse, raspy whisper. “So, you can talk. Do you have a name?”

The hulking monster growls his answer. “Lubash. Do you?” He sounds almost as bad as Rike.

“Yes.”

“Hmph. Rude not to answer..” he grunts in annoyance.

“What are you doing down here, Lubash?”

“I guard this place for the people here. Eat people who come in.” He grins, showing jagged and pointy teeth. “Great gig.”

“Congratulations. Do you know who you work for, Lubash?”

“Do you?”

“No, we’re here to find that out.”

“Good luck...” He grins again.

“Thank you, Lubash. Are you going to get in our way?”

Lubash Points his halberd towards the doorway where Rike stands, looking behind her at the dozens of armored men carrying swords, polearms, and crossbows. “No. I go out there, I die. You come in here, you die.”

“We can agree to those terms. Where do that door behind you lead?”

“That’s my pantry.”

Rike nods. She’s not 100% sure that she believes him, but there’s no dice roll for that in AD&D2e, so it’s up to logic and the DM’s description of Lubash’s body language. She decides that even if he is lying, that she would rather not press him and get in the way of that halberd until she has exhausted all her other options. “One more thing, Lubash. Do you know your bosses are holding out on you?”

“How?”

“There’s a dozen corpses in the cells down the hall. They aren’t letting you eat those?”

“No, those aren’t mine, here before I got here. Nasty, rotten.”

Rike attempted to weaken Lubash’s trust with his bosses, but seemingly to no avail. She said goodbye to Lubash and closed the door, then she sprinkled more of the lamp oil all around the floor and flammable objects of the garbage room, and left the other door to the garbage room just slightly open, propping the jug up on top of it, so that if Lubash tries to follow them, he’ll get a nasty splash and then go up on flames at a brush with one of their torches. Plus, the shattering of the jar would alert them.

Now despite the smell, the path of least resistance was south, past the wall of cells with dead bodies in them.

Rike moved forward, noticing nothing out of the ordinary except a greater amount of dust in the mostly empty room further down compared to the rest of the place so far, as if no one had been down there in a long time. It wasn’t exactly *obvious* in hindsight, but she should have known better still. As she stepped into the room down the hall, there was a faint flash of light as she seemingly crossed some kind of invisible line, a magical trap! Someone with more knowledge of magic might have been able to see more of the signs if they were in front, but it was already too late. There was a shuffling sound from the cells as all twelve of the corpses rose to their feet. Most mercenaries immediately realized what was happening, and everyone quickly readied their weapons, falling into formation shoulder-to-shoulder with the archers and spellcasters in back, and three men in reserve watching the doorway with the jug in case Lubash decided to try and make a move for them while they were preoccupied. The line was close to the cell doors, with gaps where every other man stood a few feet back, creating mini chokepoints and kill zones at each door where each one corpse would trickle through and have to fight alone against three mercenaries rather than meeting them all at once. Ceridwen, a druid spellcaster, cast a spell, Fairy Fire, which highlighted the first row of walking corpses in the dark, giving the party a bonus to attack rolls against them.

The dozen walking corpses stood and shambled forward slowly enough that the mercenaries got 2 rounds to act before they were upon them. They shot a volley of crossbow bolts and arrows. The projectiles sunk deep into rotten eye sockets, chests, and shoulders, but at best it just made some of them stumble. Another volley. Even more hit this time, with a couple of criticals for what should’ve been massive damage, but the undead just kept walking forward until they reached the line of spears and swords. In mechanical terms it seemed that they took reduced or possibly even zero damage from piercing attacks like crossbow bolts.

Both players and characters started to get pretty nervous as we started rolling for all these melee attacks and it started to seem like despite stabbing big holes in them with spears and slicing off hands and arms with swords, the undead just didn’t stop. It was the last melee attack of the mercenaries’ round that finally “killed” one. One of the mercenaries using a quarterstaff managed to crush one’s head against the stone wall and it finally stopped moving. Seeing this, those that had them, which was quite few, switched weapons to clubs, thinking that the only way might be to bash them with bludgeoning damage. After another round, another corpse was “killed” with a sword, but it’s still possible that they only take half-damage from slashing weapons. Chrysanthemum, another White Company fighter, brought her weighted grain flail down on another corpse, shattering its skull with such force that flecks of bone sprinkled everyone around. She let out a girlish squeal of disgust.

Piercing weapons were definitely a no-go after one of the corpses just kept walking down the shaft of a spear after being impaled, and grabbed the spearman’s neck, pulling at it until it ripped a small hole in the front, dropping the man into a pool of blood. Another woman was hit so had in the head by one of the corpses unnaturally strong blows that she would’ve surely died if not wearing a helmet. She could still stand, but had to swap out, an archer from the back drawing his sword and stepping in to take her place. One of the other militiamen grabbed the bleeding man and hoisted him backwards out from under the feet of the melee, where Ceridwen quickly got down on her knees to bandage the wound, even though it seemed futile. For his trouble, as his attention was momentarily averted, the militiaman who pulled him back was lunged upon and grabbed into a bear hug by another corpse. He could hardly yell as three ribs cracked in quick succession.

Rike beat that one’s skull in with her baton until it loosened its grip, but she and Abigail still had to pry its arms off before the critically wounded man could be dragged off the front line. With was another round of chopping and beating the remaining corpses down before the coast seemed clear.

The whole combat sequence lasted maybe 6 rounds, and took about 45 minutes of real time, even with over 30 combatants total to make rolls for. It was a nail biter, and would’ve been much worse if the mercenaries hadn’t made such good use of positioning and formation.

Rike quickly went to see to the wounded with Ceridwen. Putting her ear to the crushed man’s chest, she could tell that he hadn’t punctured a lung, but it would still be best to move him as little as possible. She then set to helping Ceridwen carefully clean and bandage the other man’s neck wound. She tended to him last because, having seen the wound happen, she knew that if he hadn’t bled out of suffocated before she got to him, that would be the only indication that he could be saved.

It might as well have been a miracle. The wound exposed part of his trachea, but just missed the jugular and carotid. As long as it was kept clean and bandaged, he had a chance to live. The men cheered and praised God as loudly as they dared to in this place.

As Rike stood up from him, she commanded four of the men to make a stretcher out of an old tent and carefully carry the crushed man upstairs. She jerked her head to the side to indicate the bleeding man, the motion just for an instant shifting her mail gorget and helmet’s visor enough to expose the rough, pale scar tissue across her own throat, speaking in her raspy whisper of a voice. “He can walk.”

The party regrouped after taking the wounded men upstairs. (Again, really really good thing they made the call to hunt down and kill everything on the upper floor.) This hallway was the furthest east they had been, but it seemed to be a dead end. Rike and Ceridwen set to work looking for that secret door. It took about half an hour of searching (in game time, like 1 minute of describing their actions in real time) before Ceridwen found something. She pulled it, and a wall nearby slowly slid down, exposing a narrow passageway.

The funny thing was, the sound of that secret door opening was absolutely not the sound that Rike hear with her Detect Noise ability earlier either, and the dust and cobwebs beyond indicated that this secret passage had not been used in months. So, like, even though they thought they heard a secret door, they were wrong, and it’s only through dumb luck that they stumbled upon this. Like a broken clock.

That’s where we left off in the last session.

Sorry that was long as fuck but I hope this paints a clearer picture of what a classic “dungeon crawl” is actually like to those of you who have never experienced one.

Oh and if you’re wondering the DM told us later that those walking corpses take normal damage from Slashing and Bludgeoning attacks but always 1 damage from Piercing attacks.

"D&D can do anything" and "I don't like dungeon crawls, I enjoy real role-playing" are two statements that often go hand-in-hand and the ironic thing is that the latter statement betrays a very shallow understanding of role-playing while being really snobby. What's even more hilarious is that it's like baby's first RPG elitism, like yeah most people go through a "I like real role-playing" phase but to go through it while putting on airs about the dungeon game while at the same time dismissing dungeon games is real funny.

Anyway, wherever people pick up the idea that dungeon-crawling, the playstyle most supported by D&D, is somehow pedestrian, it very quickly leads to bargaining, like surely if dungeon-crawling is actually bad and for babies then D&D must be capable of so much more, right? Well, truth is, not really, D&D kind of sucks for things besides that.

Where a lot of people go wrong at this point is contending that therefore D&D must be flawed as a role-playing game: like, if it actually kind of sucks for most playstyles besides dungeon-crawling and we've already decided that dungeon-crawling isn't real role-playing, then surely D&D must be bad as a role-playing game?

The issue of course is that most people don't ever interrogate their starting assumption of dungeon-crawls being bad. And truth be told most people who claim to hate dungeon-crawls have never actually played a dungeon-crawl. At most they've played a dungeon-crawl themed linear succession of combat encounters. (I remember this: once when I posted about dungeon-crawls being good, actually, someone responded with a "well I can see the appeal but personally I couldn't enjoy a game that's just back-to-back combat" which is a whole misunderstanding of dungeon-crawls as a genre.)

Anyway so the great thing is that once you re-examine your assumptions about what counts as "real role-playing" and conclude that a dungeon-crawl is as much real role-playing as whatever the fuck Critical Role is doing then you find whole new vectors of being a snooty blowhard and it rules. You can make fun of D&D players in so many new ways,

[canisalbus]

This isn't really a question, but damn- you know you're getting popular when your ocs- which are unrelated to any fandom- is getting both fan art and an entire fanfiction dedicated to them.

I know, and I feel exceedingly lucky to be surrounded by such creative people. I love my characters dearly of course, but the fact that they're resonating this strongly with others as well is staggering. I can't thank you enough.

(edit: Maybe I should mention that if anyone ever feels inspired to write something about my dog boys, I'd consider it an honor. You can ask for my permission or advice if you're unsure but it's not mandatory. Just try to treat them nicely if you can? You don't have to adhere to their established canon, but don't publish anything you wouldn't want me to see. And send me a link please, I'd love to take a look).

[cloudyvulpine]

hate when i'm info dumping about a *FICTIONAL* villain and someone has the audacity to be like "but they've killed people" or "but they've committed crimes"

i know

but they aren't real

i still want to make out with them

[ramshacklefey]

Oh yes, and in general, these books are an excellent example of "if your characters act like the world is normal, the audience is probably just gonna roll with it."

There's a lot to be said about how/why to make that work, but it mostly boils down to, "Is this something the average reader of this genre is familiar with?" and/or "Is it similar enough to real-world concepts that they'll get the point?"

Governor Module... Hm don't know that one, but 1) it was hacked, so it must be a computer thing and 2) its purpose is pretty obvious from the name and what the character said it can do once it's hacked.

The feed? That's a new word, but okay, it says "entertainment feed" and you can watch shows and stuff with it. That sounds like a kind of internet thing, I know how internet thing works.

Streaming media at work? Everyone knows this! Oh, we can stream media directly in our brains here? Baller.

Giant sand worm? Everyone knows giant sand worm!

There's that feed thing again. Oh we can also send messages using it! Definitely an internet thing.

Laser guns? We fuck with laser guns. Laser guns in arms? Gotcha, character is either a robot or a cyborg, let's keep reading and find out which.

Hopper? New word but obviously a flying vehicle based on what they're doing with it.

Etc.

And really, we see this all over in fantasy and science fiction writing!

Star Trek didn't get around to explaining how warp drive works until TNG, but it's clear from the beginning that it's how spaceships go fast (and remember, this was a pretty new idea at the time).

Teleporter? Ok we've seen stuff where people disappear from one place and reappear somewhere else, now we have a device that does it.

Light saber? No idea how that works, but I know sword and I know light and it's glowing so ok cool.

If something is really new and really strange and really important to the plot, you can go back and give more explanation later. But you can get a loooong way by just. Showing characters using and interacting with things to explain what they are and how they work.

And if you really do need to explain something, a couple sentences will often do, and we can discover more about it as the story goes on.

Jedi?? No idea, but everyone knows knights. Yep and these are good knights, got it. Ohhh, there are evil knights too.

The force? Oh, it gives these Jedi people "powers," so like. Makes them superheroes or wizards. Some kinda magic field. That's neat!

Ah ok, this Darth Vader guy is one of the magic knights. Oh shit he just choked a dude out from across the room! So that's one of the "powers" the Jedi have.

(Martha Wells takes this to an extreme, but also by almost never explaining exactly how anything works, she leaves herself open to just go, "Oh yeah it does this too, but it can't do that" later on in the story.)

An important writing lesson I'm taking away from Murderbot is that you don't always have to ease your readers into the world and the characters and speculative concepts. Sometimes you can just start with the fun part where there's a sandworm trying to eat someone and that's fine too.

[itsdefinitely]

do girl jeri and boy jerry exist explicitly to torment me

[blackbird-of-the-dawn]

I like to think that during those centuries of learning engineering and science-fiction science (still skeptical it would have taken Loki—a literal god and someone who’s already lived hundreds of years—multiple centuries) that Loki would have left clues around. Wherever and whenever he was, hoping Mobius would find it, maybe one day piece it all together… I mean he wanted to tell him, to explain, but here just wasn’t enough time…

I like to think that Mobius is making a plan to get Loki back. He’s gonna figure it out with OB. And they’re gonna do it on a timeline so that TVA time-wise there is no change before vs after plan creation.

I like to think they could figure it out in time before INFINITE branches makes accessing Loki *literally* impossible.

I like to think that after some time, Loki gets into a little hibernation mode, somehow time feels different to him… the loneliness doesn’t feel like it lasts as long as it does (being able to keep an eye on Mobius definitely helps).

I like to think that somehow, Mobius makes it. He’s mildly startled to find Loki being all blue-skinned (but it would make more sense). I like to think he would gently wake Loki up. I like to think there’s tears in their eyes as they gently hold each other’s faces. (Or maybe a giant hug. Maybe Mobius even makes a comment about how his Loki That Remains looks good as King of Time.)

I like to think that however Mobius got those branches to separate, Loki closes them back up for a moment. Let a little time pass.

They can finally hold each other. They can finally kiss. They can finally love each other with no one looking, no worlds ending. No need to be anywhere else with anyone else.

I like to think that all the timelines that are near the throne at that time get just a lil bit brighter and happier. That if you could, you would see their love radiating out and infecting those branches with hope and comfort.

…I like to think that one of yall talented artists might just draw this scene out cuz for the LIFE of me i cant draw… :):)