#and the acting is fantastic across the board

[khaothanawat]

what i appreciate about midnight motel is that it’s super fast paced, in a really engaging and hilarious way, but it’s also slipping out details about the characters in what feels like the slowest way possible.

the details get fed to us in tiny slithers, flashing unobtrusively up onto the screen in between the beats of the main story - and that makes the pacing of those reveals feel dissonant to the rest of the episode in a really cool way.

and it’s fascinating because it feels like they’re just leaking out small drips of information and then not talking about them again.

but because this is a dark comedy, it’s so hard to know how seriously to take it all - like, are these tiny bits of character story clues as to what’s actually going on? or should we just be taking it at face value, for the wild heightened reality it is?

we’re halfway through and there are all these tiny little plot threads that are appearing without being resolved - like who has pat’s money, what was up with that conversation between mote and doy about kat, who is the boss, what the fuck even happened to pat exactly. also why could tawi from not me track pat’s car, but not his PHONE? bitch, you don’t have find my friends on? also i have questions on literally everything involving sun and kat. so so many questions. also is mote really a teenager bc off jumpol is my age and i look youngish but “teen” is a stretch and like… off… off, my hetero husband, i swear i’m gonna save you from being cast as a teenager one day like i KNOW you’re talented but you don’t deserve to be teencoded like this like i’m gonna help i’m gonna get you out of here-

i’m just so curious as to whether i should be paying closer attention or not to the little things the show has been quietly telling us, or if it’s simply better to just go with it, because it’s a 6-episode comedy that repeatedly breaks the fourth wall, and why think about it too hard.

[shiverandqueeef]

hm. finally saw Talk To Me. not sure how i feel about it. gotta digest and process, ya know? i mean. the ending was clever, sure, but was it emotionally satisfying?

[driftbit]

Made during the fantastic @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza for Oh No :: He Said What? by Nothing But Thieves. I have a whole AU I want to write in my brain which I'm gonna brain dump below. :] I might write it eventually. once I'm not in four different events at once. @-@

Okay SO. It's set in a cyberpunk-y city where megacorporations own everything and it Sucks for most people. But not for Joel! He's some kind of influencer/maybe a solo singer/artist act and he works for one specific talent agency. He's really well known, and kind of their main Face. Etho is an android at the same company who is half Joel's assistant, half rat to the upper administration board. The reason why he's an android is because that means he doesn't need sleep or food, so whenever he's not in Active Assistant mode, he's basically scouring the web to make sure that Joel's image is Perfect. One night, he ends up coming across a post that's a video someone took of Joel where Joel is basically BASHING the company he works for and lowkey admirers; it's really Typical Joel Trash Talk, but it's started to really tick some people off. He's saying that the company/fans would be nothing without him, they wouldn't be successful or anything were it not for his talent. Naturally, Etho has to report it to the higher ups, who aren't pleased that Joel is shit talking them and being like, they're nothing without me etc etc. So the managers order for Etho to Take Care Of Joel. Problem: they're not specific with what this means, though, and Etho Genuinely isn't sure if they're asking him to straight up kill Joel or to just take him out of the public eye for a bit. Etho opts to start with the latter since that'll give him time to mull over what he should do, and they go on a little Road Trip.

Eventually Joel ends up seeing himself from an outside perspective while on the trip through different newscasts and strangers' reactions, and realizes how Bad this all looks once he's out in the middle of nowhere, outside of his cushy life, seeing how Normal People live and are effected by capitalism. And only then slowly does he realize Etho took him out of the spotlight on purpose; Etho might have been asked to Make Him Go Away. In my head the whole fic ends on a cliffhanger of literally Joel begging Etho not to kill him and Etho Finally feeling prepared emotionally to do it. :]

Also, since you've made it all the way through my ranting, pls check out this live version of Oh No :: He Said What? IMO it's even better than the original recording. Beefy ass bassline.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Screw everything else inject On1y into my damn veins

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Aug 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 5-6 of 12 - Extreme introvert dealing with a very hot, very drunk, very affectionate extrovert was an excellent experience all around. “I was drunk and talking out of my ass, but I wasn’t lying” maybe one of the world’s greatest confessions. How meta that he’s checking out the book of the story that he’s in. Carry on boys, very enjoyable, very Thai BL.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 12 fin - It’s cute. They are all very cute. I do like it when high school BL gives us a coming out sequence. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it’s a trope that goes with this particular setting really well, and I just like it when it’s done nicely. I’m not sure I needed it to totally dominate the final episode of the series. But it was fine.

I gotta say, Fourth is an absolutely outstanding actor. He really did knocked it out of the park in this last episode especially. 

In conclusion:

It was fine and it was charming, but it was also a little lackluster. Thailand managed to take one of Japan's softest cutest most bonkers BLs in recent memory and make it softer and cuter and... dull. They did this by watering it down. JBLs almost always have an edge to them, even the rom-coms, by dulling the edge, MLMU lost a great deal of the sparkle and tension as well. What an office setting managed to mostly maintain in the consummate hands of TayNew felt somewhat lackluster when handed off to the next generation and a high school setting. Cherry Magic was a lovely reinterpretation, Mix Up was an amateur's watercolor rendition of a colorful oil painting. Am I being harsh? G4 tried their best, and Fourth turned in some outrageously good acting in the latter half. But the show? It was fine. If you like water colors and you haven't seen (and loved) Kieta Hatsukoi. 8/10

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 fin - This was the first hint we got that the lead's relationship was anything more than sexual. And it was utilized for a breakup?! JJ and Wan's friendship is the best thing about this show. PWan selling JJ out to Methas was great. I was modestly delighted by the big fuck off ownership engagement ring. I admire a boy who likes to mark his territory with bling. I actually thought this was a decent final episode. If very rushed. I know, in general this ending was objectively weak, but I grinned the entire time, so I can’t really complain that much.

Final thoughts?

A story about a kid who infiltrates a cooking competition under false pretenses and then has to deal with the consequences when he falls in love with the head chef. The side couple is a poor little rich boy meets physical therapist (morality chain). The core friendships are excellent and the chemistry cannot be faulted across the (charcuterie) board. What this show lacks in substance it makes up for in health code violations. It was all chili all the time. Considering that the plot centered on betrayal but the romantic relationship never sweetened enough to balance that bitterness; one could be forgiven for throwing this one in the compost. But I got over all its weaknesses in flavor balancing for an ultimately satisfying meal, with a great dessert course. I've always loved spicy food. Plus the blooper reels were fantastic. 8/10

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 2 of 10 - I like the side couple a lot. It’s nice to see that dynamic developed (as it wasn't in the CBL version). Of course, Thailand leans into a secondary couple, but I also like the super popular jock + geeky boy who couldn’t care less. You know what? I’m actually really enjoying this. And yes, I AM biased because it's August. (Wait, that could be taken several different ways this month. But you know what I mean.) Anygay, this is a lot softer than the original, and so Hero is much more of a pining character and less harsh. But I'm still enjoying it. I like the stepbrothers trope (we don’t get it very much from Thailand), and I enjoy the beats and pulses of this particular story. We will see if it derails into inconsequence and lack of conflict the way My Love Mixup did.  

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - I’m enjoying this show but it should’ve been just 10 eps. It’s feeling bloated at this juncture. That said, I loved our little GL kiss. Very pretty. I also really like the bit with Sam and Yo flirting with each other. Sam trying to get Yo to call him P'Sam was fucking brilliant. And then slipping in all of those nongs. Delightful. Linguistic negotiation, it's what's for dinner... along with Sam's d**k apparently. I frankly did not think they would take this couple that far. So, thank you very much everybody involved.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 4 of 12 - I do enjoy watching Yim freak out and fall in love all over again. The reality is still better for me than the fantasy parts, but it’s all fun enough. The magic mushrooms bit was odd. In fact, there is definitely a core tenor of ODD going on with the show. Which I’m accustomed to from Japan but I’m not really sure about from Thailand. Thus I remain engaged but suspicious of this BL. 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Yu wants to take his baby on a trip, gets thwarted by his younger brother. Ouch. I really do think it’s time for Ai to tell Yu what’s going on with his dreams! Drunken boyfriend bolster pillow is a fav trope of mine. As usual, I’m catching second lead syndrome. What? I liked the rich boy badminton player. And then he picked up a guitar. Oh well.

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 8 of 12 - No one cares about the hets. He was jelly? Cute. Also kinda an arse, by hey this is BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - announced in 2023, high school, stepbrothers, and is reputed to be high heat. Based on a novel Mou Mou + the Your Name Engraved Herein team.

ARE YOU READY? I'M GOING TO NOT SO QUIETLY LOSE MY DAMN MIND

This is old-school BL and it’s bloody fantastic. Tsundere seme to beat all tsundere (smartest + tallest + bestest at everything but people) meets socially-ept cutie smart-ass protag.

They living together by end of ep 1 and start kissing by end of ep 2.

There is an Unknown quality to this, and that I love. Also, and ironic to say this while Addicted Heroin Th is airing, but this REALLY reminds me of Addicted. It’s so fucking good. I am all in on this show. Shut up while this eats my life.

Cosmetic Playlover (Japan Tues Gaga) eps 5-6 of 8 - Of course! The POV shift to the seme character at ep 5! How could I forget? Japan loves this beat! AND.... The running of the gays. And a use of a first name! So darling. Also some crazy great communication and conversation that is NOT a hallmark of Japan. Sahashi is so very possessive. I loved the switch that went on in his brain and the mania in his eyes when he thought someone else was interested in Natsume. I continue to love this.

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I’m never going to like Maya. Sorry. And the leads were separated for most of this episodes so it was largely disappointing. I did like the insight into the way T sees the world, and sees the alienation of a disability and what it's dong to his friend. It’s very empathic. He’s such an appealing character in his obtuse bull-headed way.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 2 of 8 - It’s intriguing, and I'm happy to have anything from Korea on my dash. But, like Blue Boys, I’m not entirely sure if I like it or not.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 3-4 of 12 - This may be Taiwan but I’m still in the "no singing" camp. I’m getting a slightly better chemistry feel off the leads in this episode. I’m not sure if they’re keeping it stiff because the younger character is under age or if it’s just that the actors aren’t there yet? (In other words is this a directing choice or a performance issue?)

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 8 of 10 - I've finally come down firmly on the fact that it’s the uneven power distribution (in terms of interest and enthusiasm for the relationship) that I dislike about this show. Generally, I like a power dynamic differential, kinky and all that. But this particular dynamic, when it’s the weaker personality that’s so much more into the stronger one? I never like it, unless it engages a serious pivot at some point. (See My Personal Weatherman or Takara & Amagi.)

It's airing but...

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 3 of 10 - I was really loving this one but I can't find ep 3 anywhere so I guess I gotta wait it out. I hope I get to see it eventually.

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. If I have time, I'll get caught up and put it into rotation.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer IS COMING IN SEPTEMBER!!!! (Yeah this is gonna sit here until then).

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Next Month:

The Time of Fever (Korea)

9/1 Live in Love (Thai)

9/3 Happy of the End (Japan)

9/6 Kidnap (Thai)

9/7 The Hidden Moon (Thai)

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai)

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai)

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan)

More deets next week. It's late and I'm tired.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

It was pretty. I am very shallow.

Even more pretty. Petition to have Tenon with his shirt off and hair back in every subsequent Thai BL? Just because.

(SunsetXVibes)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

[shadowtriovibes]

can you write one where f!MC is being pursued by an annoying guy she doesn’t like who won’t take no for an answer. it annoys sebastian just as much as it annoys her, so next time it happens he pretends to be her boyfriend and suggests they start fake dating for good measure. eventually they make it for real.

thank you! i love the fake relationship trope sooo much and i’ve yet to see anyone write one with sebastian.

of course, lovely anon!! i haven't seen any fake relationship fic either so i'm happy to contribute a lil something! tbh i sincerely thought this would be a short ficlet but it ended up being just over 2.5k fluffy words of dummies in love 🤩

Title: rumor has it

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back.

"Northcott," Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. "Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?" "Your girlfriend?" Eric asks skeptically. "That's new." "I suppose it is," Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. "Been a long time coming, though." Across the room, Ominis laughs under his breath.

Sebastian Sallow is an excellent young wizard. Clever, well-read, focused – by all accounts, he should be a brilliant strategist.

But sometimes he comes up with the worst ideas you’ve ever heard.

“You musn’t be serious, Sebastian,” you laugh, closing your potions textbook to appreciate the actual madness of what he’d just suggested.

“Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes as you tell him, “You can’t just pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Earlier that afternoon, the two of you had met up with Ominis in the Undercroft to study after staging a quick exit from the library. While Sebastian was hunting down a book on ancient runes, Eric Northcott had cornered you in the stacks and tried for the second time to convince you to have a Butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks instead of “hiding that gorgeous face behind those dusty books like you always do.”

When Sebastian had returned, you were shoving the Gryffindor boy away from you with a tense look on your face, and if he hadn’t just finished a stint of evening detentions for slipping a Puffskein into Duncan Hobhouse’s schoolbag, he would have hexed the amorous git himself.

Since then, he’d been suggesting ways to make him pay, with each idea more fantastical than the last.

“Sure I can, and we can even make a real show of it,” he says with a charming grin. “If you want to get Northcott off your back for good, let’s allow him to think your handsome, roguish boyfriend is the type who would challenge him to a duel if he tries anything untoward.”

“That is a terrible plan,” you deadpan.

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ominis chimes in.

You glare at him, because Ominis never thinks that Sebastian’s ideas are any good – even the ones that aren’t completely bonkers.

“What are you playing at, Gaunt?” you accuse him.

“I’m merely suggesting that Northcott may actually accept your contempt for him if it’s for a reason that allows him to save face,” he explains with a secretive smile. “Simply telling him that you’re not interested hasn’t seemed to work thus far, so why not be creative?”

“Creative?” you snort. “Wouldn’t ‘creative’ be blasting him myself the next time he lays a hand on me?”

“As if you need any worse of a reputation,” Ominis drawls, and he has a point.

“Come on, let’s really mess with him,” Sebastian pleads. “You know he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

You’re not surprised that Sebastian is able to get you on board so quickly. Truthfully, you think you’d follow him on his harebrained schemes just about anywhere.

“Fine,” you cautiously agree. “But just to scare him off, alright?”

You swear you can see the gears in Sebastian’s head start to turn immediately.

He kicks off his brilliant plan the next day during your N.E.W.T.-level potions class. You’re supposed to be brewing an antidote to Veritaserum, and while the draught itself isn’t necessarily difficult, some of the ingredients are a little tricky to prepare.

You’re focused on trying to carefully slit open some Sopophorous beans when you felt a presence behind you, and then Eric Northcott is draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Need a hand with those?” he offers, trying to sound congenial.

“I’m fine, Eric,” you insist.

“I’m really quite good at potions, you know,” he reminds you, grabbing one of the paring knives off the table and haphazardly slicing one of the beans you’d laid out. “I’d be happy to give you some hands-on lessons if you’d like, one-on-one of course.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis hisses from across the room, having picked up on the conversation while the other boy poured over his notes on wormwood. “Now might be a good time to offer some gentlemanly assistance.”

His eyes narrow when he spots Northcott leaning over your cauldron, clearly trying to sneak a look down your top.

“Don’t let my antidote burn,” Sebastian mumbles as he storms across the room, as if Ominis would ever spare a thought for Sebastian’s cauldron when the show is about to begin.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him notice your predicament, silently pleading him with your eyes to do something to get you out of it.

“Northcott,” Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. “Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?”

“Your girlfriend?” Eric asks skeptically. “That’s new.”

“I suppose it is,” Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. “Been a long time coming, though.”

Across the room, Ominous laughs under his breath.

“Really?” Eric asks dubiously, briefly glancing at your expression. “I was under the impression that the two of you were just ‘best friends.’”

“Well, shouldn’t a good relationship start out as a friendship?” you counter, though you don’t sound entirely convincing.

“Right,” he says slowly.

“Mate, you know how tough she is,” Sebastian says with a charming grin. “Took me ages to convince her to give me a chance, she strung me right along for months.”

You jump slightly when Sebastian slides his hand across your back to your waist, tugging you closer to his side – and out from under Eric’s arm.

“But she finally took pity on me,” he says with a lovelorn sigh, and you narrow your eyes at his dramatics.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you reply, laughing nervously. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,” he says, quickly leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Before you can react, Professor Sharp wanders by and instructs you all to stop your dallying and focus on your draughts. Eric spares one more skeptical look at the two of you before returning to his cauldron.

Sebastian’s hand on your waist lingers for a moment even after he’s gone, but then he lets it fall.

“Sorry about that,” he says under his breath. “Had to sell it, you’re really a bad liar, you know.”

You think Sebastian doesn’t know the half of it.

(Sebastian’s just glad you avoided his gaze long enough to miss his deep red blush.)

—

As it turns out, the kiss wasn’t enough to convince Northcott that you were properly off the market.

The rumor mill quickly focuses on you and Sebastian – specifically whether or not it’s true that your platonic friendship has become something more.

“I don’t really believe it,” Nerida claims whenever the subject comes up. “Sebastian has always seemed like the bachelor type.”

“He could have had a girlfriend all this time and never has,” Violet agrees, trying to hide her bitterness. “I don’t think he really wants to be in a relationship.”

“Are you joking?” Imelda scoffs. “Sallow’s been a lovesick puppy over that girl for years, I’m just glad she finally came around.”

“She is very protective of him,” Grace speculates. “I remember when Samantha Dale asked him out last fall, I thought she was going to Depulso the poor girl clear across the courtyard!”

You do your best to ignore it, but Ominis stubbornly insists on telling you everything he’s heard.

“I would have thought that the two of you would be better at pulling off a ruse as simple as this,” he says, disappointment dripping from his words. “How hard can it be to pretend to like Sebastian? I don’t have to see him to know that the whole school thinks he’s handsome.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh, walking alongside him on the way to arithmancy. “It’s… I don’t have to pretend, if you know what I mean.”

“Come now,” he says quietly. “I’m blind, not dim.”

“Then you do understand!” you whine. “How am I supposed to just let him pretend to be my boyfriend to ward off Eric and not go mad from knowing that it’s all a lie?”

“I suppose me telling you to be honest with him about how you feel would go in one ear and right out the other,” Ominis suggests, smirking to himself when you curse at him under your breath.

“Buck up, then,” he says simply. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow up in some spectacular way sooner than later – it is Sebastian, after all.”

—

As per usual, Ominis is correct.

Not even a full day goes by before Sebastian corners you outside the Hufflepuff common room and asks to walk you to dinner, taking your hand in his as soon as he notices some fifth-years studiously watching the two of you as you make your way to the Great Hall.

“I missed you this afternoon,” he tells you as he walks you upstairs, putting on a good show. “How come you didn’t want to study with Ominis and me after class?”

“I just needed to lie down for a little while,” you tell him, not wanting to admit to avoiding the way he’s been so unbearably charming lately.

“Feeling alright?” he asks concernedly.

“Yes,” you tell him. “Just… I don’t know. Out of sorts, I guess.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

You get distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb along your wristbone reassuringly.

“Um… n-no, I don’t think so,” you stutter.

“Surely there’s something I can do to help,” he says, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way his eyes look a little darker than usual, as if his pupils have entirely taken over.

“Like what?” you breathe.

Then he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he’s about to do something stupid.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging you over to a spot along the wall in the reception hall, next to one of those empty cabinets you’d looted for Nellie Oggspire back in your fifth year.

“Sebastian, w-what–” you stammer.

He presses you against the wall, one hand pressed to your waist and the other flat against the stone behind you, boxing you in. He glances around again and clearly spots whatever it was he was looking for, grinning mischievously before he leans in and traces his nose across your cheek.

“Don’t hex me for this,” he murmurs against your lips, and then he’s kissing you.

You melt against the cool stone wall, tipping your head back so Sebastian can tilt his head against yours and completely overtake your senses with his demanding kisses. Without consciously deciding to, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you, desperate to ensure he stays right where he is.

He kisses you well, you think. You know he’s always been a huge flirt, and that he has taken some girls in your year on dates to Hogsmeade over the years, but you’ve desperately avoided any post-date conversations with him because you did not want to know what he and those girls had gotten up to afterward.

Now you know, you think bitterly, but just as quickly you realize you don’t actually care. He’s skilled at this – nipping at your bottom lip to get you to open up for him, sliding his hand between your robes and your dress shirt so he can feel the curve of your waist, nudging a knee between your thighs to pin you even further to the wall.

“Bastian,” you murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He groans against your mouth like he can’t help himself, and you whine a touch too loudly when he grinds his hips against yours.

Then you hear Eric’s voice call out, “Sallow!”

Sebastian looks like sin when he pulls away from you, and not just because his hair is a little mussed from your helpless tugging and his lips are red and swollen.

It’s because he’s smirking, and you quickly realize he’d planned this entire thing.

He’d pulled you to a spot where the Gryffindors on their way to dinner could easily see you being ravished, and it’s not just Eric he’s caught up in it – it’s Leander and Cressida too, some of the worst gossips in the entire castle.

…You are absolutely going to hex him for this, you think.

“Northcott,” Sebastian drawls as he turns around. “Can I help you?”

Eric looks furious, but at least he doesn’t look skeptical anymore.

“You might want to consider someplace a bit more private,” he offers, seething. “I am a prefect, after all. Could send you to detention for being so lewd in public.”

“Fair point,” Sebastian says easily. “In fact, maybe you ought to send us both. Hardly anywhere’s as private as the dungeons.”

You quickly smack Sebastian in the chest with the back of your hand, wordlessly begging him to stop before you actually do have to report to detention.

Mercifully, Eric simply throws a few choice words at Sebastian and stomps off to the Great Hall, Leander and Cressida on his heels to undoubtedly tell the entire school what just happened.

“You’re evil,” you hiss, still catching your breath. “You arranged all that just to embarrass Eric? To embarrass me like that?”

He frowns, confused. “No I didn’t, and I would never embarrass you.”

“You did!” you whine, shoving at his shoulders so he’ll step back. “They’re going to tell everyone and it’s going to make me sound like – like some pathetic girl who’s so desperate to avoid Eric’s attention that she’ll let her best friend feel her up in a busy hallway.”

“That’s not what they’ll think,” Sebastian argues. “And if anyone’s pathetic, love, it’s me.”

You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself, ashamed at how badly you wish you were still wrapped up in his arms instead despite everything you’re saying.

“You think I’m lying?” he asks derisively. “I’m a fool for you, and I would never hurt you. I kissed you like that because I wanted to, and if it happened to embarrass Northcott in the process, that’s even better.”

“Y-you wanted to?” you ask softly.

“I’ve wanted to for so long,” he finally admits.

His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you, but he forces himself to behave.

“It’s the reason I came up with this stupid plan in the first place,” he sighs. “So that if anyone at this damn school gets to have the pleasure of walking you to class, or taking you to the Three Broomsticks or – or even kissing you senseless somewhere everyone could see, it would be me.”

You don’t have any words. But even if you did, there’s nothing you’d want to say to him that you couldn’t communicate by tugging him in by his collar and kissing him like you can’t think straight without his touch, so you do just that.

When you both break away to breathe, Sebastian quickly asks, “Are you actually hungry?”

“Not anymore,” you admit, your gaze still on his lips.

Sebastian barely manages to utter the words “Undercroft” and “hurry” in between kisses, but while he determinedly works a claiming bruise into the side of your neck, you whine, “Your common room’s closer.”

—

Once Ominis overhears Cressida waxing poetic about Sebastian Sallow practically mounting his new girlfriend in the hallway by the Grand Staircase, he doesn’t wonder why the two of you never show up for dinner.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Mystical Items & Objects

Examples in Mythology and Literature

Pandora's Box

The god Prometheus stole fire from heaven to give to the human race, which originally consisted only of men

To punish humanity, the other gods created the first woman, the beautiful Pandora

As a gift, Zeus gave her a box, which she was told never to open

However, as soon as he was out of sight she took off the lid, and out swarmed all the troubles of the world, never to be recaptured

Only Hope was left in the box, stuck under the lid

Anything that looks ordinary but may produce unpredictable harmful results can thus be called a Pandora's box

Hermes' Winged Sandals

Also called the Talaria of Mercury

Are winged sandals, a symbol of the Greek messenger god Hermes (Mercury)

They were said to be made by the god Hephaestus of imperishable gold and they flew the god as swift as any bird

Cintamani Stone

Also referred to as the Chintamani

A wish-fulfilling stone that features across both Hindu and Buddhist religions

The stone features as one of many Mani Jewel (i.e., several gems that are mentioned prominently in Buddhist literature) images that can be found in the scripture of Buddhism

In Hinduism, the stone is connected to the gods Ganesha and Vishnu

Usually, it is depicted as a jewel in Vishnu’s possession known as the Kaustubha

The Kaustubha acts as a sign of divine authority

Arcane Artifacts & Objects

Offer a gateway between time past and time present, bringing layers of ancient history and new-world intrigue to a narrative

Such items are typically represented in fiction as works of long-lost knowledge, primordial features or landmarks, and curious objects of mysterious origin

Often lying dormant until the pivotal moment of discovery, these items invite characters and readers alike into a dance with the unknown

Examples: Necronomicon, Genie's Bottle

Necronomicon

Also referred to as the Book of the Dead

It appears in stories by H.P. Lovecraft

A dark grimoire (i.e., a magician's manual for invoking demons and the spirits of the dead) of forbidden knowledge

Used to open gateways of unearthly powers and cosmic horrors

Genie's Bottle

The classic magical item from mythology, also featured in Aladdin

A vessel of wish fulfillment that often leads to dramatic and unexpected consequences

Doorways & Portals

Doorways in fiction serve as gateways between worlds, dimensions, or states of reality, providing characters with universe-hopping capabilities and genre-defying journeys

These portals, whether physical structures or fantastical mechanisms, open up limitless storytelling possibilities, allowing for sudden shifts in setting and introducing elements of surprise and surrealism

Examples:

C.S. Lewis' wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia serves as a secret portal to a fantasy world, bridging the mundane with the fantastical

The eponymous board game in Jumanji transports its players into a wild and perilous jungle adventure, wrenching them from the safety of their living room

Jewelry, Gems, and Garments

Along with other various accessories, these serve several narrative functions, from symbolizing power and status to bestowing unique abilities upon their wearers

These items can act as plot catalysts (i.e. MacGuffins), embody character traits, or hold deep cultural or magical significance within a story’s world

Example: The Amulet of Mara in Skyrim not only reduces the cost of Restoration spells but also unlocks marriage options for the player, integrating gameplay with the narrative

Legendary Objects of Power

Carry with them stories of grandeur and lore, passed down through generations and intertwined with the fates of those who wield them

These are the objects that make or break worlds, bestow immense strength, and are frequently considered among the most powerful items in fiction

Example: Though it's never actually been seen, the Kusanagi Sword from Japanese folklore is a fabled sword that represents valor, said to be endowed with divine powers

Machinery and Technologies

Stretch the boundaries of physics and logic to offer a glimpse into what could be possible in alternate or future universes

These innovations, whether grounded in current science or verging on the fantastical, propel narratives forward and deepen the complexity of the story’s world

Writers can leverage these technological wonders to enhance their storytelling, using them to explore themes of power, ethics, and the human relationship with technology

Example: The body shields in Dune generate a protective forcefield around the wearer—advanced technology that current militaries can only dream of

Mundane Everyday Items

Possess extraordinary storytelling potential to transform the unassuming into the unforgettable

Seemingly ordinary, these objects can surprise both characters and readers, unveiling hidden depths and abilities when least expected

These seemingly mundane objects could fall into unsuspecting hands and create chaos or catalyze a hero’s journey

Additionally, they might only reveal their true nature to those worthy or capable of wielding their power, which can set the stage for narratives that are centered around discovery and mastery

Example: Oscar Wilde’s Portrait of Dorian Grey presents art as a vessel for dark magic, encapsulating the protagonist’s sins while he remains untouched by time

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[paragonrobits]

its something of a small thing but you know what I really liked in X-Men 97?

in a lot of the X-Men specific stuff, the other heroes of the Marvel universe don't often show up; if its a mutant problem, often the X-Men have to handle it on their own. And it makes it feel like the other heroes, the Fantastic Four and the Avengers and everyone else, doesn't CARE about mutant suffering; that the oppression of mutantkind, that there are roving genocide robots made specifically to kill them and incinerate their children or drag them away to detention facilities to never be seen again, is irrelevant to them unless retaliation from mutants is inconvenient to them.

Some writers take this as an in-universe thing, certainly, but its always been something that... bothers me.

And then, we come to X-Men 97. On the heels of the horrific Prime Sentinels (themselves able to work quite well for the fear of the disenfranchised that revealing yourself to one of the 'normal people', those that aren't LGBT or aren't on the autistic spectrum or are neurotypical, will get you killed because they might suddenly turn on you) reactivating and invading all over the world, seemingly normal people unleashing incredibly deadly and destructive powers against mutantkind.

And what do we see?

The most prominent sight of superheroes across the setting fighting the Prime Sentinels.

From Cloak and Dagger and Daredevil making their grant appearance in what seems to be an expanded Marvel universe from the 90s marvel cartoons, to Doctor Strange using his medical expertise in a depowered hospital, and perhaps most prominently T'chaka acting as the Black Panther to effortlessly dispatch Prime Sentinels invading Wakanda as well as urging world leaders to not rush to attack Asteroid M because they don't know the situation and what history will state if they make a panicked decision, we have the superheroes of the Marvel universe explicitly fighting against the Sentinels.

And what are Sentinels, if not walking representations of hatred, oppression and systematic death?

Maybe it's just because I've been reading long enough to see when the X-Men gradually started to be pushed away from being a major part of the Marvel Universe to being almost isolated, but it feels really good, and like a statement, to see the biggest inclusion of superheroes across the board being shown as they fight against the Prime Sentinels.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Cryptid Biology Season 2: Jersey Devil

[Previous entry: Here. Omega needs a break. Writing sex as a comedy of errors and nothing more. Cockblocked by an irrigation system.] Below the cut.

Omega would like to say that he's been living it up since his retirement, that he's been lazing about the abbey like an aged tomcat, coming and going as he pleases, but very rarely is that the case... especially not when the band is home from touring.

Injuries and illnesses seem to crop up like daisies in spring these days, and the quintessence ghoul finds his presence needed in the medical wing more often than not, due to both his seniority among the staff, and his talents as a healer.

He doesn't hate his job by any stretch of the imagination, but it can be quite draining, and he often finds himself in need of a little tender loving care...

Unfortunately, it has been kind of difficult to get laid given most of the people hitting on him are his patients.

A demon he may be, but Omega is a consummate professional and takes his oath as a physician very seriously, and part of said oath is -albeit not in these exact words- not to fuck the people under your care.

Of course, one might debate the merits and morals of keeping such a vow outside of office hours...

After all, there are no rules in regards to what he gets up to outside of the infirmary, just that he maintain the decorum expected of his station within the church... But keeping up appearances be damned, Omega needs some fucking ass already.

It feels unnatural for him to have gone for so long without getting laid, he's so pent up he thinks he might go feral if this goes on any longer, and jacking off after work just isn't cutting it these days.

Back when he was in the band himself, it wasn't hard to find a willing body to get his rocks off with, but now everyone looks at him like he's some unobtainable hardass who only exists to tell them to eat right and to stop fucking fruit -Aeon- ...but he's not!

He's perfectly obtainable!

He's always ready to fuck, he's got a fucking PhD in fucking, he's a certified whore!

And people these days just don't respect that!

Where's Alpha to grab him by the throat and show him who's boss before he flips the script and fucks him raw?

When is Mist gonna pop out of the woodworks and peg him until he cries??

Honestly, even Special is looking like a snack now, but he knows better than to get anywhere near the odd ghoul when his even stranger partner, Cowbell, is lurking about.

What he needs someone he doesn't have history with, someone who's willing to let him go deep and-

"I'll bite." a slightly raspy voice offers from behind, making him jump.

A small woman in board shorts and a red tank top with "Jersey Devils" plastered across the chest peers up at him, gesturing with an open can of ginger ale she has clasped in her right hand, "Could be a little tit for tat; You want sex, I wanna see your dick."

Omega is stunned.

"You... What?"

The woman shrugs, sipping her drink.

"You're the one out here muttering about needing to get laid, and I've got nothing better to do." she says, "So unless your standards have jumped way up in the last ten seconds -which if they have, fuck you- you can either take it or leave it. The offer expires when I finish my soda, so you gotta act quickly."

"...I... Who are you?" he flusters, "I was saying that out loud??"

"I didn't ask for your name, so you don't need mine either." she hums, swirling her drink, "I think I have about two more sips-"

"Okay, okay- Fuck..." Omega pinches the bridge of his nose, fuck him and his desperation, "I... Yeah, yeah, let's... Let's do this."

"Fantastic."

"Where-" he starts to ask, and the woman simply grabs his hand.

"I know a place, come on."

...As it would turn out, the "place" the woman had in mind was the abbey's hedge maze.

"It takes most people an hour to get to the center, but I'll show you a secret." she says, moving along the far side of the maze's outer wall, "See that rock there?"

She gestures to a large, pillar of stone.

"Watch this."

With a startling ease, she picks up the rock and sets it off to the side.

"Before you act too amazed, heh, 'a-mazed'..." she shakes her head at her own joke, and then knocks on the stone, which makes a hollow thumping sound, "About two thirds of the rocks in this maze aren't real, otherwise the upkeep would be a real bitch..."

"How did you-"

She shushes him.

"I will not be taking questions at this time." she says, tugging him into the maze and sliding the rock back into position, "If we follow this trail, we'll be in the middle in five minutes."

Omega blinks, unsure of what to do with this new information, but follows her regardless.

Sure enough, they make it to the middle in roughly six minutes -the slight delay being the result of the woman pausing to pluck some leaves off of one of the hedges, because they were, "Uneven." and stuffing them into her pockets- and, honestly, Omega isn't sure what's in store for him now that they've arrived, because he certainly wasn't expecting this.

"Alright, looks like the coast is clear-" she announces, beginning to take off her shirt, which, although Omega knew this was coming, still makes him startle a bit, unprepared to see tits so soon.

...He gets over this initial shock quickly, and begins undressing himself when he sees how quickly the shorts come off, revealing light blue panties that seem ever so slightly too small...

"So why here?" he asks as she leads him over to the grass, "Not that I'm complaining, it's just... an interesting choice."

"It's private," she says, laying herself down on the lawn, she seems oddly relaxed, "but anyone could find us at any minute, and I've learned that's something I like."

Omega kicks off his pants.

"I see..." he hums, "What else do you like?"

"Men who don't ask so many questions." she teases as he kneels between her thighs, "Come on then, take what you want."

And he does.

He plays with her, all of her, from her mouth on down to her thighs, he runs his fingers over every sensitive part he can find, watching as the cotton grows a shade darker with every swipe of his skilled across the fabric.

He presses a kiss to the moles on her inner thigh and leaves bite marks in places he knows must elicit pain and pleasure in the same motion, and he keeps going until-

"...Let me see it."

Omega is just about to take himself out of his boxers when he hears a gasp-

"I'M SO SORRY!" a sister of sin squeals, reeling back in horror along with her friends, who all shriek and run off at the sight before them.

He wants to yell something back, but instead he looks back at the woman beneath him, who gives him a look that's less ashamed and more...

"Come on, big fella, I said I want to see it."

Fuck.

"You really want to continue-"

She hooks her legs around his waist, pulling him down, "I said what I said. Don't make me repeat myself."

Welp.

Decidedly unperturbed, Omega reaches down to slip her panties down to about mid thigh, pushing her legs back away from him to remove them the rest of the way, and proceeds to finish taking his dick out.

"For the record, I'm a grower, not a shower..."

The woman looks down, staring at his cock.

"Purple." she says with a giggle, "Nice."

Omega blushes, a bit embarrassed.

"It's cute."

He groans, ears flicking backwards.

"It doesn't have plates or scales, so that's a bonus... and it's not a tentacle..." she sighs, then slips her hand down to part her folds, "Let's see what surprises you have in store."

Plates... scales... tentacles...

Okay, so she's been with a ghoul before.

A couple ghouls from the sounds of it.

That makes her reaction a bit less...

It bothers him less knowing that somehow.

"No tentacles or fancy plates, but I do have a little trick up my sleeve I think you might like-"

.

.

.

Bea limps into her four o'clock staff meeting, soaking wet, and wobblier than a newborn deer, a sight which Mountain commits to memory as she drops down in the seat beside him.

She smells like sweat, freshly cut grass, and a subtler scent he recognizes as one of his fellow ghouls, but not one of his current bandmates.

"Did you fall in one of the fountains on your way here?" he whispers, nudging her with his elbow.

"Did you set the timer on the sprinklers this morning?" she asks, ignoring his question.

"I did, why?"

Bea inhales deeply.

"I got wet in two ways because of you, today, expect my revenge to be swift and completely disproportionate."

"Huh?"

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

The companions deal with a hag and Tav makes a hard decision.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 13: End

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Language, Blood & Violence, Trauma, Act 1 Spoilers

Hag song was HEAVILY influenced by 'Hey Girl' sung by Lady Gaga and Florence Welch

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

They say that the heart is a heavy burden. Undead, an infernal engine, a mortal organ. They can all carry the same weight. And when you have had nothing to care for it for so long, It’s like a fucking chokehold the moment even a single jab of sweet honey infects it.

— Karlach, scrawled thoughts on a torn page from one of Gale’s books

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

A devil’s servant was near: looming by her side, whispering a litany of canticles, bidding for her to wake.

The swordswoman awoke in a foreign room with paint peeling off the walls, like the droves of oppressed women by the men that promised to be their caretakers forevermore.

As Tav’s view unblurred, she noticed a priest passively swinging a thurible, releasing an unnatural pitch black colored smoke. The incense smelled of corrupted boils made to summon eldritch visitors.

And then pain. Her body felt like it had been tossed around in a rocky undertow. Each nerve ending aflame. Bruised. Defiled.

Her dried tongue attempted to coat itself in saliva as she tried to speak. “Wh—”

“Saer, she is awake,” the priest clad in a plain gold and black robe spoke aloud.

A figure was at the foot of the bed she laid in, clasping his hands together. “Fantastic!”

Algos.

She tried to move, pushing her weight on her elbows, but the soreness that shot through her was unbearable. Tav cried out roughly, falling back onto the pillow beneath her head.

“Careful my love, you’ve undergone a change—quite literally—overnight,” the rasp of his lilted tone seemed to slice through the curls of smoke filling the room. “Priest, grant me a moment with her.”

The pious stranger nodded, leaving the room as Algos approached her bedside, his boots clinking heavily across the wood floor.

Tav hysterically searched her surroundings for any indication of where they may be. She studied a singular dusty window with beams of sunlight straining to shine through. Then, the rotted floor, clearly missing a few boards. But, when she finally looked at the sheets and comforter thrown haphazardly onto her body—sullied in possible blood stains—she froze.

Placing a hand on her forehead while she was distracted, he smiled down at her. She flinched, breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Please…where…”

“Shush now. You’ll need all the rest you can get, that is, if you can even survive through the day.”

She peered up at him in horror, tears stinging in her widened ducts. Panic and the sensation to writhe under his touch set in. “What’s going—?”

His dark eyes bore into her, slowly narrowing into something cruel and unknown. “Isn’t love grand, Birdie?” The strength of his grip found her chin and he held it firmly, lowering himself to place a cold peck on her lips. “10 years I have loved you and finally you granted me the purest gift of your devotion to me.”

Tav gasped, pacifying any movements in her aching pulsating muscles. “Gift? I don’t…understand.”

Algos released her, taking a step backwards. He gestured dramatically towards her covers. “Now, unfortunately, I have already had to part with it; but know that it provided me with exactly what I needed. Anyways, I shan’t babble on about such negotiations, but maybe you should have a look for yourself?”

She grazed the stitched hem of the blankets covering her and steadily lifted them from her bare figure. Her tempest eyes traveled down the mounds of her breasts then to her torso and legs. She violently trembled in fear. “Algos, what have…have…you done…?”

He snapped his fingers in thought. “Ah, there is one more thing I must attend to.” He turned to leave, waving a quick goodbye. “If you’re still alive by the time I return, I believe that will have earned you a proper explanation, don’t you?”

Tav dropped her coverings and reached out towards him, screaming hoarsely over and over again in torment. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! ALGOS! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Why did she kill for him?

Gale had warned her about Astarion. About the webs he would tangle her in. Spread out ornately on patterns of silken fibers as the tightrope artist approached her from each strand that represented his life. Even should the bough upholding his intricate designs begin to shake, she would remain: a votive offering for every shade of his light, his dark, his gray.

Guilt. The self-condemnation for her turning him away whilst the skeletons he housed took his hand to dance with them. His cross to bear: inscribed on their left over bones. The beasts within that fed on him as his soul still cowered in fear. An unyoked expression—the disconnect—on his face as he pushed his sex into her over and over again was a familiar reflection she had seen of herself before. That she still saw during the erosion of her body clashing against her past.

Had she made the right decision bidding him to leave?

Then, there was a moment between the aftermath of the confrontation with the hunter and these troubling thoughts, that both Tav and Astarion regarded one another in uncomfortable silence. Briefly, a bout of regret flickered behind those mesmeric garnets when his gaze traveled down to the area he bit the previous evening, hidden behind the stays of her corset.

”Why?” The spawn mouthed, anchoring his jaw tautly.

“Because you—”

Tav furrowed her brow concentrating on his question. He wasn’t asking why she had decided to run to his—their—aid, no, he wanted to know why she decided to come after what he did to her. How she could still bear to look upon this rabid self that stood before her after his teeth enacted a sacrilegious communion in the name of Cazador Szarr.

The answer vacillated through Tav while the crimson from Gandrel’s death wept from her gloved hands into a trinket of a puddle. She had run to her crew half-dressed, hearing their desperate crows during her midday training. And the moment she saw the vampire entangled in the vine spell, she knew her impulsive arrow would whistle through the breeze to pierce the hunter’s flesh to shield him.

Her stomach churned as she watched the waves of Astarion’s coif falling forward, while he bent over to search the man’s corpse. “Are you certain he was one of Cazador’s?”

“Well, he was, “ he smirked outturning the deceased’s pockets, discovering little more than a bag of gold and lint. “I have history with them; the Gur were responsible for nearly murdering me the night I was turned into a spawn. Only Cazador would know to send one now to capture me. I’m sure he found it quite humorous.”

“Whew-weeee! You sure know how to make an entrance!” Karlach flung the rest of the vines she cut in half off to the side, beaming at Tav. “Either way, the problem is taken care of, yea? Comrades have to take care of each other, but hopefully this won’t come back to bite us in the arse later on.” She pointed towards Astarion with a long fingernail. “Don’t get any ideas.”

He shrugged at her, tying the coin bag to his belt. The dagger in his hand slid across Gandrel’s shirt, wiping it clean of blood and debris as he continued squatting near his lifeless body.

Tav ignored Karlach, conflicted over her own earlier actions. “Astarion, are you absolutely sure?” She peered down at him, pondering which collusions were quietly branching off inside his mind for him to answer her with.

Her thoughts were suddenly addled with the urge to seek forgiveness from the gods for the unimaginable deadly sin she committed that staggered on the lines of her ward for Astarion and wrath itself. She wanted to believe him. Believe that the possibility was charitable enough that Gandrel worked for Cazador and would have trafficked him back to the city. She wanted to place her faith in him that somewhere inside his tortured existence that his intentions were, at the very least, mottled enough with the concept of “good.”

He stood upwards, readjusting his armor. “You don’t trust my word? He was a Gur. Why should it matter?”

Tav shook her head. “This isn’t only about trusting your word: it’s about trusting your decisions. This, “ she motioned around at the tiny ponds of blood and viscera decorating the ground. ”impacts more than just your impulses now. The volition of your path, Karlach, Wyll, our acquaintances, me—it impacts it all.”

Astarion murdered for her once; Priestess Gut at the goblin camp. The debt of her life owed was just repaid in kind. The Madonna with her slender rapier, piercing through the qualms of her own heart for a man who’s humanity was dangling from rafters above layers of stained glass.

Why did it matter? She wasn’t keeping score. Helping those in need came without questions. Tav had ended lives for others without another thought. To save. To defend. But the difference—the bloody difference—was that it never involved a personal attachment for someone like Astarion. If she cut down an innocent man for him on his false instinct, then she…

Astarion crossed his arms haughtily. Even with ichor splattered on his fair features, he was still lethally gorgeous. “My dear, mayhaps you need to be reminded that it was not I that asked for anyone’s help with tearful pleas. By your own resolve, you are here now.”

Hey,” Wyll spoke up softly, failing to grasp their attention.

“But, Astarion, you knew we wouldn’t let you face Gandrel alone,” the bard unwaveringly replied. She pulled at the lengths of her dark ashen brown locks, winding them up into a messy hair bun. “Look,” she started with a hairpin in her mouth. “I’m only trying try to point out that not every Gur you meet is a horrible person to blame for what happened to you before you were turned. And that if we’re to get involved, it’s something to consider in the future.”

“Oh, please! Why defend those vagrant cutthroats? I think it’s only understandable that I do, in fact, get to blame them.” He hesitantly inched towards her as if she would crumble the very second he was within reach of her.

Tav rested her hand on the hilt of her blade sheathed at her side. She concentrated on his shallow breathing, watching his features alter several times. He was patently unnerved.

The pallored elf’s hands landed onto his hips. He leaned in towards her with barbs on his tongue. “Sending that hunter was a blatant message to show the power Cazador still has over me. Have you any real clue as to how strong he really is, Tav? The abilities he possesses? He could turn into mist, sneak into our camp in the dead of night, and strangle us all before we even opened our eyes.”

With a sudden jerk in her voice, she ground her boots into the mud to tower her posture. “Astarion, please—”

Astarion stepped further in, halting only feet away. Vexation and anguish masking his vision. He roughly pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing his two jagged fang scars on the right side of his neck. Faded in color, but not in memory. “And if death isn’t enough—not to fret! You could be chosen to serve as his newest slave and live eternally as a meaningless vessel in the body you once knew,” he spat.

This was not the first time the womanly elf had laid her eyes on these scars—she saw them nearly everyday—but it was the first time watching him directly acknowledge them. Two petite bursts of whitish fireworks healed over. His master’s hallmark for legacy.

The intensity of his emotions viciously hid themselves in her heartstrings, like stubborn grit underneath fingernails. She placed a flat hand over her left breast. “Be-inway, Astarion. Be-inway, I hear you,” she quietly sing-songed.

He leaned back away from her, viewing her in one of his usual repertoire of reactions. “Would you reevaluate having that look broadcasted on your face when we disagree for once?! Those wretched huthammur. Gods below,” he blurted in frustration, glaring away from her eyes.

“Enough! Quell this before I kick both of you into the Chionthar river!” Wyll shouted abruptly. Fixing his stony eye on Tav, he moved in between them to act as a volunteer mediator. “You two quarrel more than bloody Shadowheart and Lae’zel.”

“What’s done is done,” he continued, the balm of his voice sweeping into the air. “If we are to believe Cazador hired this man, as Astarion said, then we need to believe that he knows our location. Our fanged friend is right: anything related to the vampire lord—short of himself—could strike at any moment. If the Gur’s death was indeed a mistake, then we’ll atone at the pyre during our final rites.”

“I always knew I could count on Wyll’s sensibility whilst you fiddle around with your own concerns,” the vampire fluffed out his hair, chiding Tav with a prissy titter.

Instead of her typical reactions caked in silence or offering challenges for him to consider, she simply spread out her arms to bow, catching his smug guise flipping into incredulity. “As you wish—your highness.”

“‘ey! Maybe we could save the melodrama for later?” Karlach horned in, breaking the subtle silence. She scratched the side of her cheek looking back and forth between all three of her companions suspended in pose. “Ethel’s teahouse isn’t far from here. She heard all the commotion and came to check it out. Said we are invited into her home as a reward for taking care of that monster hunter once you two were done bickering.”

Tav and Astarion sheepishly stared at each other past the warlock. Past the barbarian. Past their surroundings. Unmoving. Unblinking. Unorthodox beliefs in opposition gliding across paralleled strings.

He broke their quietude first. “I swear, if this demented crone only offers us tea and biscuits, I’m going to throw myself into the…urm, well, not the sun anymore. Anyways, shall we?” Astarion offered, extending his arm out in front of him, ushering Tav and Wyll along.

Tavelle, Tavelle, with her burnished battle symphonies surrounded by Astarion’s flags of scarlet, had taken another risk allowing herself to further interlock their lives together by having the stench of this stranger’s death on her hands. But, she knew it was for a reason she resonated with. A kindredness in once belonging to those that subjugated them with relational bonds affixing themselves as an addiction to the love and misery they provided.

So, why did she kill for Astarion?

Because she knew this would be the only chance he’d ever get to possibly escape for good.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Tav, keep singing! It’s working,” Wyll yelled at her, preparing an ‘Arms of Hadar’ conjugation. “Almost ready!”

The group had fought off the hag’s illusions until they were able to single out her monstrous corporeal form. As Mayrina bawled from a cage suspended over a fathomless pit, Tav combined a hasty doggerel alongside her ‘Vicious Mockery’ cantrip—adequately causing serious damage to the witch's ears.

It was the first time Astarion heard Tav’s voice since they entered Ethel’s residence. Clipped and off-kilter to her usual songs, he could sense she had dipped her thoughts into a place she would not allow any to follow by the unusual strum of her pulse.

♫Hey hag, what will you do? After we scorch that litter in your hair. Hey hag, have you any clue? Your illusions do not scare.

Hey hag, the bargains made, Around that brew you stir. Curses, scry, changing weather, Your end is on the way.

Hey hag, hey hag. Where’s your coven to save you? Hey hag, hey hag. It’s time to perish away.

Hey hag, hey hag. Hey hag, hey hag. It’s your end today. But, know that we gut you. Please know that, Please know that, we gut you.♫

Near the end of the last verse, Tav faltered; disrupted by the locusts of her ruminations, swarming to devour the fields of her concentration. The perfect momentum for the hag to take.

Auntie Ethel managed to steel her resolve long enough through the misstep to cast a bladed gust of wind, slicing open Tav’s forearm. She wheezily wailed at the bard, “You..rude…little…cunt!”

Thrown off balance, she fell to one knee, clutching her lute tightly.

Astarion ran to the ledge of the pit. He watched as Ethel started dragging her wart covered body in Tav’s direction. “Get up, damn you! Wyll, we’re going to need that spell!”

Karlach roared, charging forward. “YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU’RE GOING TO BURN!”

“Karlach, no! You and Astarion need to save Mayrina and the baby,” Tav commanded, lifting her head at them to heavily take in gulps of breath.

Hells, not this drab self-sacrificing shit again, he reprimanded inside his mind.

“You idiot! Have you noticed that you have acquired a rather nasty gash? One more distraction and the hag will have sliced bard for breakfast! That woman made her choice,” Astarion grumbled loudly over the wide chasm, pointing towards the cage. “She was going to trade her own—“

Tav willed herself to stand. He could see her blood surfacing on the wound causing a desperate pang in his stomach he fought back.

“I KNOW,” she hollered back, seemingly conflicted by her next choice of words. “Trust me—I know.” Her tone became a diffused strain, showcasing that compassion she carried on her sleeve. “We don’t have time to argue, but life can be fucked up Astarion and sometimes we make ignorant choices when we are suffering. She may not deserve it, but let her have a second chance to choose to do right.”

A second chance.

Second chances were not allowed where he once resided. Second chances were unforgivable acts considered an intentional rebellion against Cazador’s commandments. Second chances meant having a spawn’s mouth gagged with foul-tasting fruit until their cries for mercy ceased. Second chances were for the weak and imperfect.

Second chances didn’t exist for Astarion because first chances lacked possibilities and dreams.

And those ideals were more dangerous to his master than allowing his children to ever turn into full-fledged vampires.

But, he was not at the Crimson Palace. He was not under Cazador’s command. And he very much did not want to deal with the repercussions that impossible elven bard would administer should he refuse.

He deeply exhaled, turning his head to view the barbarian over his shoulder. “Fire girl?”

“Yea, fangs?”

“How much weight do you think you can lift with your axe?”

She knowingly smirked, “Enough to give a boost to a handsome vampire.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” he grinned coquettishly. A red gaze briskly found its way back in Tav’s direction as he removed a dagger from his hip. “Songbird, if you slump over, please remember: I told you so.”

Astarion heard her chuckling echoing off the cave's walls as he walked towards the tiefling. She angled her axe towards the ground, allowing him to secure his footing on the weapon’s steel.

“Any ideas on how you’ll get back down?”

He unbuckled the side of his chest armor and fumbled around inside a concealed pocket. “Ah, there we are! I was going to make trade with it—seeing as it looked fairly rare—but I can always borrow another one from Gale when the time comes.”

Karlach eyed the ‘Scroll of Dimension Door’ dangling betwixt his fingertips like a horse’s carrot. “You stole that from Gale? He’s going to be quite unhappy when he finds out.”

Astarion pursed his lips, shoving the scroll back into its cubby space. “Well, the only way he’ll find out is if you decide to tell him.” Crouching down slightly in preparation to jump, he fisted the hilt of his dagger with both hands. “Besides, it’s not as if Gale was going to use it anytime soon. The man seems to have taken up the hobby of hoarding all means of magical properties since he joined us. I can assure you, it won’t be missed.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever you say, fangs. Ready?”

He nodded. “Do it.”

And up he flew as Karlach hurled him towards the cage with her oversized weapon, forcing the airflow upwards. Astarion shot through the moving air and shoved his blade into a thick branch fastened around the gargantuan bones making up the small prison. With a strong grip, he pulled himself up enough for his foot to gain traction on a piece of wooden board that served as a floor base in the cage.

He swung his body into the cage, bowing quickly at his waist. “Darling, your hero has arrived! Forgive me, but let’s not tarry, eh?”

Mayrina backed away from him in a fright. “Ah! Who are you? Go away!”

Astarion tutted in disbelief, wagging a finger at her. “Oh, no no no! I did not sign up this. We have to go—now!”

The woman held out the length of her arms while he steadily paced himself further into the cage. “Get back! Or I’ll…I’ll…”

“Or you’ll scream? You’ve already been gracing us with your screeching vocal chords in that regard,” the vampire sneered. “Now if you’ll pardon my ungentlemanly conduct, I am going to have to use force in this annoying rescue or else that bard down there will have my pretty head on her rapier.”

Sidestepping her, he deftly situated himself to cuff her wrists in one hand and artfully plucked the teleporting scroll from behind his armor. He recited the script written in a mystical hand while imagining a safe location close by. A bright hazy mist enveloped both him and Mayrina, as the scroll disintegrated into sparkling particles.

The flash and crackles of energy following their reappearance behind Karlach, was enough to distract the hag from her continued pursuit of Tav.

The songstress cried out, rapier postured to thrust forward, “Wyll, now!”

Black tentacles slithered around the warlock’s body, writhing to satisfy a dark and ancient hunger. Arcane circles surfaced around him in shades of seafoam green, matching the bright glow of the castor’s eyes. “Morē!”

The arms shot out, capturing Ethel in their grasp. Limb after limb: disjointed, pulled apart, and infected with necrosis. Until, her putrid body had been thoroughly feasted upon and fell with a vibrating rumble to the ground.

Wyll staggered back, resting against his quarterstaff. “It worked. She’s dead.”

Mayrina scurried around the edge of the bottomless hole, holding the heaviness of her stomach in tears. She fisted her golden coils when she reached Ethel’s deceased form. “What have you done?! You’ve ruined everything!”

Tav approached her cautiously, an unreadable gaze transfixed on the woman’s rotund stomach. Her sleeve had been torn during her incurred injury, tattered shreds hanging loosely off her arm. “No more bargains,” she flatly imparted.

“All I wanted was my husband—my Connor—back! I can’t bear to live without him,” she sobbed loudly, wet droplets streaming down her dirty face. “Ethel promised to raise my baby properly, but you’ve gone and—“

Astarion quietly trailed after Mayrina upon stealthy heels. When Tav’s frame came into view, he noticed chunks of her hair had fallen out of place, cemented to the sweat soaked nape of her neck. The sight of the clean cut on her arm, now bathed in her own blood, caused his mouth to ache.

But, what caught him off guard was her heart. If not for the faint swell of her chest when she inhaled a breath, he would have thought she were as dead as him: it was virtually muted in its beats.

The bard shook her head. “This was not your final option. You simply choose to ignore all the others out of desperation before settling on this one.”

Mayrina fell into Tav’s arms, clamoring for hope through a squeaky raw throat. “Help me! You must know someone. I’ll do anything! Please bring him back. Bring Connor back! His coffin is outside. We could leave now; it isn’t too late—“

She remained stone-faced as she allowed the pitiful human to twist her shirt. “Listen to me carefully because I will not repeat myself: this is the last time you can play so frivolously with life and death. Another miracle will not mysteriously save you from your decisions. We can help bury your husband, but that’s all.”

Tav untied a satchel filled with coin and held it out to her. “Take this. It’ll help get you back on your feet for a while. There’s shelters in Baldur’s Gate that help young mothers out—it may be worth it to consider seeking them out.”

Mayrina shoved herself away from the bard. “Didn’t you listen to a single word I said?! I want my husband back! You don’t know anything about what I’m going through right now or how much it hurts. I don’t need your damned money! If you can’t help me, then I’ll find someone that can.”

Swiftly drifting forward like a waterfowl skirting above the water to land, Tav roughly hooked the crook of her inner elbow. “You cannot forsake yourself or this babe. You must protect what is yours at all costs. Do you understand?” She assertively snarled. “Do not squander this opportunity, for you will not get another. Take the money and leave Mayrina. I will NOT say it again.”

Astarion had never witnessed such unconstrained passion in her eyes before. A swirling hurricane that pushed and pushed and pushed, until it was created out of her warm and calm reservoir. There were numerous personality quirks he had prescribed to the bard, but this withdrawn frigidity in her actions were ones he did not foresee.

Mayrina was in shock. Wide-eyed. Petrified. She made eye contact with Astarion, pleading with him out of swollen sockets to convince his partner to remove her grip.

“Darling, you’re bleeding,” the vampire mentioned gently, endeavoring to gain her notice towards the dripping deluge of blood from her forearm.

She did not respond, continuing to stare at Mayrina and the growth filling out her womb.

Protected by the lady of her heart lochs, her secrets were thrown far into the depths of her wading marrow. “You shall not know them,” she exclaimed, “Because they are wrought with uncontested sorrow.”

Until, a rush of trembling drums flooded behind her ribs and Astarion could hear each rhythmic clench of her valves opening and closing. Emotions refusing to still.

He squeezed her shoulder, articulating her full name in a low pitch. “Tavelle?”

Tav released Mayrina from her hold, looking at the pale elf from the side of her peripherals, not giving him her full attention. “Hmm? Yes, sorry. Astarion do you want to—?”

He nodded at her, lifting her forearm to his mouth to greedily review her cut. Heavenly puffs of air exited onto her skin as he sweetly plunged his tongue in between the broken flesh, tasting every drop of lush fluid. He languidly swiped his tongue in long strides up to her wrist, pressing chaste cool pecks in gratitude along the way.

But, Tav was completely despondent to him: never once wincing or flitting her view back in his direction. Never once blushing or rousing his name from her rosy lips. Never once politely asking him to stop the mania of his hunger for her blood.

Still, Astarion persistently licked, and licked, and licked at the wound that never did seem to close.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The day ended with burying Mayrina’s husband in a shallow grave.

Tav’s nails caught the inside of Astarion’s wrist, lightly scratching translucent skin, as their two companions strode ahead to the camp nearby. He could hear the resounding ravines inside the bard’s arteries filling with a festering apprehension.

He turned to face her, drooping curls attacked by the humidity, following suit.

Her expression had returned to its usual state of demurred humbleness. The whites of her eyes were more luminous than the surface of the moon. Shiny and waning beneath gibbous lids. “Speak with me?”

It was almost difficult to believe that this was the same woman from earlier that held an unholy union between her indignation and goodwill. With her tongue as her sword and her weathervane perception, she professed her creeds uncovering a sliver of her inner self.

Yet, he could not outpace the pictured sight of her inanimate body pressed into his side as he succumbed to the metallic taste on her arm.

Where had she gone at that moment?

What had she been thinking about?

Who had she been thinking of?

The spawn arched a refined eyebrow, clearing his throat with uncertainty. “Yes?”

She crossed her damaged arm against her chest, casually holding onto the bicep of her other one, inspecting him under softened brown lashes. “What you did for Mayrina and her unborn baby today…I realize it may not have been something you’d typically do, but please know, I appreciate the kindness you demonstrated.”

“Kindness? No, no, my sweet. What I did was purely to avoid having to deal with another tiff between us—as we are so prone to do,” he commented with slight rebuff. “You know we may have condemned that child to unhappiness in relation to his mother’s catastrophic life, don’t you?”

Tav hummed, avoiding the garnets of his blistering gaze. He noticed her fingers digging into the upper portion of her arm uncomfortably.

“You didn't ask to speak with me privately to thank me, did you?” Astarion questioned, feeling a dip in his stomach.

“A part of me did,” she murmured delicately through guarded partially opened lips.

The rest of the words would not escape her mouth. Trapped in the netting of her lyrical throat. She blinked up at him, heartbeat soaring away. Finger pads now skimming to touch the forbidden area he had bitten, as if to remind her of what she needed to do.

He shook his head firmly. “No, Tav. Say it.”

The door to her was closing. Her melodies that beckoned dormant blooms to bend towards the moonlight, the source of his aegis and crimson nourishment, would soon be gone. And he was still miles away from her doorway, slashing through the abstracts of their pasts.

He felt ill.

Tenderly, she laced the ends of her finger joints with his without accord. Her ardor blanketing his undead chill: a solace and a curse.

Astarion refused to suffer for her sympathies or careful considerations. For her fucking tears now veiling her eyes. For the pity she would shower him with, again and again and again.

“Say it.”

The sun setting from the west, wove together golds and purples to cast upon their silhouettes as a final goodbye. A dying day for their last sighs.

And then, her fingers slipped back out of his hand.

“Astarion, I don’t think we should be distracted anymore. Whatever this was between us—I want it to end.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Notes:

Elvish Words

Tav: Be-inway = wake

Astarion: Huthammur = storm clouds

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/25/2024) Episode: One Star Among Many

Confident their babies were in safe hands, the couple arrived at Studio PBP for the awards ceremony early and feeling fantastic. 

Luigi hoped to win of course, but however it turned out, he was thrilled that his video had caught the eye of the industry leaders on the voting board.

He felt awkwardly self-conscious when he first arrived, but once security waved him past and he began to be recognized by other, more established, stars, a sense of confidence and achievement settled in. He motioning Noemi to “bring it in” for a selfie to remember the evening by.

Heading inside they grabbed seats in the front row. Luigi’s category would be up soon after the opening act, and they couldn’t wait.

He tried not to fidget in his seat as the presenter introduced the nominees and showed a short clip of each nominated video. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she finished with: “and the winner of the Best Video award is… Luigi Lawbourne for “Winter in Windenburg”!”

Luigi’s face split into a huge grin as the camera panned over to capture his reaction. Noemi kissed him softly on the cheek and whispered, “it’s a great video and a well-deserved win. Congratulations my love”.

Luigi stepped up to the mic and fixed his gaze on Noemi “First of all I want to thank my lovely wife. Her perfect mix of tough love and tenderness is the magic behind all my achievements. Honey, you are the best teammate a sim could ask for and I cherish you with all my heart.”

“Of course,” he continued, turning towards the camera “I have to give a big shoutout to my brothers who were partying with me the night I filmed Winter in Windenburg.” “Growing up an only child I never expected to have siblings, and now I can’t imagine my life without you guys – you rock!”

As he finished by giving thanks to the generations before him and the fans across the nation that gave his work meaning, his rousing and ever more inclusive speech ended up maxing his charisma skill. Yet another pinnacle of achievement to celebrate!

Luigi took his seat and listened politely as the next winner was announced. Noemi did her best to stay focused, but after the fourth or fifth nearly identical acceptance speech her eyes started to glaze over. Leaning close she whispered to her husband, “I’m dying of boredom here… rescue me?”

He replied with a solemn wink. As soon as the cameras were pointed towards the other side of the room, he grabbed her hand and crept quickly away.

The couple didn’t get far before they were interrupted by a familiar voice calling: “Little Luigi Lawbourne!”

“Johnny” Luigi said with a smile, greeting the idol he’d grown up knowing as an old family friend. “I like your fashion sense” he deadpanned, gesturing at the other sims very familiar outfit “Though I’m surprised you went as far as getting a nose piercing.”

“What can I say?” Johnny replied, “Your dad was a hoot, and he raised one cool dude. I’m a big fan.” “The bling…” he winked “is fake. Shhh, don’t tell!”

Luigi laughed “Well, either way I’ve got to get a picture of this!” He turned to Noemi “Honey, can you grab us a table upstairs? It should be quiet up there with the show still going on.” With a smile and a wave she took off, while the boys headed to the photo wall to get their picture taken.

Luigi said his goodbyes to Johnny, who was due onstage to announce the Best Comedy Performance winner. Passing by the roped off front doors on his way upstairs, he noticed a large crowd clustered around the entrance and paused to take in the scene.

With so many famous folks in residence Luigi didn’t think many of the crowd would take any interest in HIM, but much to his delight as soon as they noticed him several started waving and calling out, screaming his name like meeting him would be the highlight of their night.

He couldn’t say no to that welcome, wading into the fray and happily spending the next few minutes passing out autographs, hugs, and selfies. This was by far his favorite part of fame, and if one or two of the pictures being taken got into the paper and helped his reputation… even better!

Luigi was riding high on his win and the adoration of his fans as he finally made his way upstairs to join his wife in the quiet reception area. With most everyone else still downstairs watching the awards ceremony the place was basically deserted, just the way she liked it. 

His smile widened as he observed the platter of meat and cheese and glass of juice waiting for him. It had been a long day, and he was famished.

He didn't usually allow himself the indulgence of nectar anymore due to his diabetes but when Noemi told him "I thought you deserved a little congratulatory treat" he couldn't disagree. The first sip was doubly sweet after so long denying himself the pleasure.

Luigi felt truly relaxed, as if he was still honeymooning in Batuu. Sipping his drink, he chatted with his bride about their plans to capitalize on the win to help with the final publicity push for Project Daisy. Unfortunately, as his body settled, his head unexpectedly began spinning in a terribly familiar way. 

Noemi grew alarmed as her husband's eyes glazed over. Burying his head in his arms he groaned "I know this feeling… its Bloaty Head. Not to mention I don't think I took my supplement this morning. Help please? I can't even see straight."

His shoulders hunched further as his glucose monitoring app began pinging stridently on his phone. Noemi dug through his inventory, pushing an iron pill into his hand and discreetly injecting him with a dose of insulin. "Hopefully this will make you feel better. Is there anything else I can do?"

“We need to get out of here… ideally without those paparazzi vultures descending. They'd just LOVE this after what happened at the market." 

“Just try and relax, I'll be right back." Noemi made her way downstairs, searching for an alternative way out of the club. Flagging down a security guard she led him upstairs, where he waited patiently to escort her and her ailing spouse out a discreet side door leading to a private teleporter.

Luigi managed to mumble “thank you man" to their savior, who returned a curt and sympathetic nod in reply as they slipped through the portal that would carry them away towards home and some much-needed rest for the sick, sad, star of our show.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[boss-hoody]

HEAVENSWARD IS FINISHED!

You might think I'm rushing through the game, but I'm not. I just have no life. Ah the life of one who's friends all either have kids or live thousands of miles away...

ANYHOO

Heavensward was fantastic, although I have to wonder how the Dragoon job quests go if you were to pick it up after beating the HW MSQ considering what happens to Estinien at the end. Does time just break and he's just inexplicably there? Or does the game say "Nah, fuck you, no Dragoon for you"?

I had to kind of laugh in the final couple boss fights though because I kept accidentally predicting things. "Are they gonna pull a DBZ?" They did. "Whats he gonna do with that dead guy? Hit me with him?" He did.

The Ascian boss(es) were really fun even though we wiped 4 times. I think all but one of us was a first timer. Our tank was very patient and dropped tips in the chat, but also seemed to let us learn the hard way. "Run away from the guy you're chained to" (Told after we got nuked by the buddy system from hell) "You can tell which will go off first based on the distance between them when they appear" (Told after I got tricked by the ice and fire thing. I'm not complaining though. I'd rather experience and THEN be told rather than be told and then experience.

As for the final boss against god king super pope, I spent the first five minutes panicking as it seemed like he was throwing everything at us all at once... And then he threw everything at us all at once. CHAOS! I loved it

And then for a split second I stopped focusing on mechanics and instead on the fight and realized we were trapped in a dramatic reenactment of Knights of the Round, starring the knights of the round.

Whole bus clapped when the shatter bit happened.

Also the music in that one library dungeon was SO chill.

Various thoughts Lalafells are still the devil, except Tataru. She gets a pass. I got a kick out of her randomly changing outfits after she became a weaver

The voice acting is much better across the board

That first large, empty snowy area did not start the expansion off on a good foot. Going from being able to run fast on my mount, and even fly, to suddenly NOT being able to fly, and being back at base mount speed, AND suddenly being in a huge-ass map that I had to slog across multiple times on my slowcobo? Didn't love it. I get why we can't fly right off the bat in a new region (and I actually liked that you had to earn flight through quests and exploration) , but they could at least just let us keep mount speed. That motorcycle with automitic level 1 mount speed in Mog station is lookin' Reeeeeal tempting.

I really liked the locales in this expansion. Islands in the sky, weird plant life, etc.

I didn't really care for Bismark and Ravana. They just didn't interest me much and their fights were just kind of boring to me.

I'm heading into the post-game next. I'm guessing there's another raid series waiting for me in there somewhere. I just hope its as cool as the Crystal Tower raids were.

Oh and as soon as I buy Shadowbringers my ass is switching to Gunbreaker. Because Gunblade. (I still think its weird that its a tank job though)

[emilykaldwen]

People are allowed to be upset and disappointed about the finale (and the season in general). We're all on our own blogs, we get to do that. Make sure you tag things appropriately (the a*nti H*otd tag is a handy one). But also make sure you step back and take a breather. This show should not be throwing you into a conniption fit.

For me? My final thoughts:

I'm more than happy for my feelings on this season to change over the hiatus. I know I'll re-watch the episodes in a few months and I'm able to sit and really go with the story and not react for the first time. I can just look at the season as a whole and see where it goes.

In a perfect world, they wouldn't have filmed during the writer's strike. In a perfect world, HBO wouldn't have cut their two episodes at the 11th hour. They wouldn't have had to throw out the fucky Sopochnik treatments when he stormed out, and when Matt/Emma/Olivia threatened to walk. The lead up to the production of this past season was a messy one, and I think it shows.

This season had good bones. When it hit? It absolutely hit. Episode 2 continues to be one of my faves. 2x06 was also fantastic. I genuinely was delighted and enjoyed the Riverlands arc. I loved Aegon's storyline and everything brought to it. I loved Jace getting fleshed out.

I absolutely was frothing at the mouth for the noting of how shitty the nobility is to the peasantry. Even if it was uneven and awkward, I'm glad that's getting brought up and brought in. God, Rhaenyra Cult Leader drinking the Targ Supremacy kool-aid? Loved that choice. Jace realizing his mother doesn't care for him/Rhaenyra making the same parenting mistakes that Viserys did? Loved it! And there are a lot of other things about this season I did love.

The acting was fantastic across the board, I felt so vindicated in some of these choices. I know a lot of us did.

But where the show disappointed me, it disappointed me hard. And the thing is, you can see where the writers are going with it, nothing is out of left field, it's all there... but I look at it as the same way you see someone taking the wrong route in the forest that will still get to a destination, but it's not the... don't go that way it's not a trail?

I think a lot of the frustrations with this season are absolutely because of the s1 missteps, namely that I think as a fandom everyone collectively agrees season one should have been two seasons. Season one should have ended with Driftmark. We should have had more time with the kids growing up, we could lay the groundwork.

We know that there was a lot happening outside of Condal's control with the issues and changes happening with HBO. It's unfortunate. And I think that exacerbated the issues in the writers room that were already there.

Fire and Blood is not a perfect book. It's a mock-u-history book that is very fun, with templates of who these characters were. They are not fleshed out characters, so the writers had a sandbox to play with. But we do know the basic foundations of who they are, and I think a lot of that got lost in the 'I know better' mentality that I really feel in Condal's interviews. There's expanding on ideas and then there's... 'I can do better/improve on this' when it doesn't have to be that deep.

Anyway, I'm still here, I'm still writing, I'm wholly amused that some of the convos and plot points are similar to what I've written and planned, because we are all playing in the sandbox.

Just remember everyone: This is the dragon incest fantasy show. It does not define you, it's not the end all be all. Don't harsh on anyone's joy, don't go off the rails with your anger and frustration. Curate your spaces, give people space, and always try to find the joy in things.

[idrilka]

in which i'm telling everyone to go watch my country: the new age

so if you've been here or on my twitter at all during these past few weeks, you might have noticed my unhinged yelling about my country: the new age (and woo dohwan's beautiful, talented face). i finished the drama two weeks ago (immediately started rewatching from the beginning), and i honestly still haven't recovered. it flattened me like a pancake and left me just like that.

it's been a while since i got so invested in a piece of media (the last time was 2ha, and then i went on to write nearly 300k of ranwan fic, so this bodes well), and it took me completely by surprise. you know how sometimes you come across a piece of media that, completely out of the blue, rearranges you on the molecular level and you just know you'll never be the same afterwards? this is what this drama did to me, and i'm not exaggerating. i honestly went into it with zero expectations, thinking i was just going to watch it for woo dohwan's beautiful face, but, regrettably, it's just really fucking good all around. it might be my favorite kdrama i've ever watched?

*stefon voice* this drama has everything. do you want olympic level gay yearning? incredible antagonists? interesting plot and themes? fantastic fight choreography? an outrageously talented cast with excellent performances across the board and a host of fascinating supporting characters? a clever fucker with a fan? two protagonists who are absolutely unhinged about each other and love each other so much even as they practice stabbing as a form of foreplay? a searingly hot older woman with the richest voice you've heard? complex (if underutilized) female characters? costumes and styling so pretty it makes you want to chew on your arm? do you like to be made to feel all emotions known to man in a single moment? do you want to stay in a fetal position for two days after watching the last episode? do you want to think of nothing else for the rest of the week/month/year? WELL, THIS DRAMA IS FOR YOU THEN.

it's a historical court intrigue drama set against the backdrop of the fall of the goryeo kingdom and the rise of the joseon dynasty (~14th century), following two friends, seo hwi and nam seonho, who find themselves on the opposing sides of a political conflict. i can't even begin to express how good the central relationship of this drama is. it's a love story, and they fucking know it. the chemistry is sizzling. the knives are exquisite. there are so many layers to this relationship, and the lead actors do a phenomenal job with that. yang sejong gives a wonderfully understated yet extremely emotional performance as hwi, and the transformation hwi goes through is incredible to watch. woo dohwan as seonho is superb - intense, tragic, horribly misguided. the way this man acts makes me want to chew concrete.

and then!!! i usually don't gravitate towards antagonists/villains, but holy fuck, jang hyuk's performance as bangwon is such a tour de force. he is phenomenal, and he brings such nuance and complexity to bangwon that you literally can't tear your eyes away. (he also has a fan.) all three of them are absolute chemistry machines. all three could probably generate chemistry with a brick wall if needed, and this 100% shines through on screen. the strange, intense dynamic they're locked into is beyond delicious. the chemistry between bangwon and hwi is truly beyond. the "in love, divorced but still fucking" energy that seonho and hwi give off is everything. the parallels between seonho and bangwon are delectable. the complex nets of interpersonal dynamics make me want to weep with joy at how wonderfully nuanced they are.

and as if that were not enough, there's a whole cast of truly multidimensional supporting characters! (park chido, my beloved!!! munbok! jeong beom! sungrok! madam seol! hwawol, my baby!!!) honestly, there's not one weak performance across this entire cast - everyone gives it their all. this drama features also the worst father in the history of fiction, and i'm including shi mei's dad and jin guangshan in that. nam jeon is the worst is so, so many different, despicable ways, but his actor sells it so, so well. i loved every minute of absolutely loathing him.

the weakest point of the drama is, in my opinion, the obligatory but ultimately pretty secondary attempt at a romantic plot, which would be much better served by focusing on the other aspects of hwi and huijae's dynamic, because there's a lot of crunchy stuff to dig into, and i love huijae otherwise and wouldn't want to see her cut from the story in the slightest. her conflicting loyalties are so compelling, and that's where i feel like the character shines the most. the romantic plot also falls flat when confronted with whatever the fuck seonho and hwi have going on at any given point in time, but i think the drama knows that, too, and isn't trying to fight it particularly seriously (or at all).

(i also didn't love all the music choices in this, but that i can still live with.)

and, to close this giant wall of yelling, this drama is just so pretty. the cinematography is beautiful, the costumes (which i admit i besmirched a little after the first episode) get progressively more and more stunning as we go on, and i would like to personally thank whoever did seonho's wig/extensions, because that's one of the best examples of hair work i've seen in a while, and also to congratulate the makeup artists on the excellent sculpting job they did on seonho - he gets progressively more snatched the older he gets and this is very good for me, personally.

oh, and if, after all this, you're still wondering what it's like to watch woo dohwan act, then thank you, tumblr user @jekkies, for providing this excellent quote, because it's exactly like that (except there's nothing to steal here because yang sejong is also stellar):

thank you for your attention, and please, go watch this drama. i will love you forever.

[thatonebirdwrites]

For this next Act, more interludes from other characters will happen. This one is all about Andrea and Alex. Let's dig into their demons. Also, Kelly gets a fun arc -- she will eventually have an interlude too. Got to weave all the threads in Act 2, so we can see the full tapestry in Act 3. EXCERPT:

Andrea followed Alex up a spiral staircase of a nondescript apartment complex. Andrea sighted at least seven DEO agents in civilian clothes. Most were faces she recognized due to her infiltration of the DEO for them. That knowledge left her uneasy, but she refused to let anyone see it. She kept her expression neural, her armor at its highest. 

Neither of them spoke. Andrea felt unsettled still about the meeting the other day. The way Lena’s sword had effortlessly sliced through a metal table, and how Lena glowed silver-gold while holding it — that had been a terrifying sight. The little vial Lena had given her she had wrapped in cloth in her pocket, but if it truly kept her safe, Andrea didn’t know.

She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact Lena had magic. Where had it come from? Had she always had it and just kept it a secret? No one gave her any answers. And as much as Sam had grown to like her — Andrea wished she hadn’t — Sam never answered any of her questions about Lena. Her loyalty was steadfast.

And now she’d broken Sam’s trust. Last night had been painful. Sam aloof and estranged, and Andrea too prideful to beg for forgiveness. Instead, they had a tense silence, only broken when Kelly and Ruby dropped in since Kelly and Alex would now be in the penthouse below them. Andrea wasn’t sure what to think of that, or the fact that Lena owned it all. Where was Lena even staying?

Alex reached the top of the stairs and glanced at Andrea. “You sure you want to go through with this? He said no when we asked if you could see him.” A hint of concern wavered in Alex’s voice. 

Which was weird to hear. It had been a long time since people had been concerned for her. “I must. He is angry, that is the only reason he declined. But he deserves the truth.” Her guilt seared her; she’d lied to him so much to keep him safe. Would he forgive her?

Alex nodded and led her to a door at the end of the hallway. Everything about the place stank of sterility. No colors, the rugs a dull grey, and the doors metal monstrosities. For a safe house, it felt more like a prison than anything else. 

Alex unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Sr. Rojas?” She smiled and waved. “¿Cómo estás?” 

Hearing Alex speak Spanish surprised Andrea. She didn’t know the director knew it. 

“Bien,” came her father’s rich baritone voice. “I take it she is here?” His English was heavily accented; hearing it brought back memories of her youth in Patagonia. Homesickness twisted her stomach. 

She missed their ranch in Argentina. The mountains loomed like sentinels, a harsh dry wind blowing down their crags, while rivers cut deep valleys and followed into the steppe grasslands. Farmhands handled the sheep on the ranch, while her father had spent most of his time teaching her the ways of business.

She recalled the long horse rides across the steppes, over rocky outcroppings and past craggy hills. Her father had pointed out each unique feature, his stories rich and full of fantastical lore. She’d been devastated when he sent her to boarding school; losing her mother had broken him.

She’d hated it at first until she’d met Lena. Lena had helped her recover, to forgive him for sending her away.

Now she was no longer welcome at home or really anywhere. Not after what she’d done.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

What do you think of Sarah Brightman in POTO? She gets so much hate from the "phans" but I love her as Christine. She looks so victorian, classy, proper and innocent. When I got into the show (which I regret) I couldn't stop watching her with MC and Steve. I love her voice, it's so unique as Gillian Lynne described — like a dew dropping. Also Michael Crawford and her were similar in age to Erik and Christine. I think she wasn't more sympathetic and "into" him because that's how she was instructed to act, Hal Prince was very clear about Christine loving Raoul though she felt sorry for Erik. And Steve Barton was such a perfect Raoul. My all time favorite pair is JOJ & Gina as well as JOJ & Katie Hall. I also adore Hugh Panaro & Samantha Hill.

Honestly I would love to give an opinion, but I can't because I have only ever seen one Brightman performance and it was quite degraded, so her visual performance was very difficult to analyze.

What I will say is that I didn't know this about Hal Prince (keep in mind, I've only been in the Phandom for about eight months, so I'm still learning a lot of the production's history.) And I find that interesting, given the fact that Lloyd Webber himself has always dropped hints (and in more recent years, been more open about) his own very pro e/c feelings. I think in the end, everyone in the production has their own perspective, and those combinations of attitudes bubble and collide on stage with different outcomes every time. We have to keep in mind that every element of the main trio shifts the chemistry and even with repeats of the exact same trio, sometimes the vibe you get from Christine can be very different show-to-show. I've seen Crawford/Kristien/Barton in three separate boots and Kristien's performance has had varying degrees of enthusiasm with Erik in every one. In one she was more naïve and timid, in another she was blatantly horny.

I've seen Gina Beck absolutely terrified with Ramin Karimloo and gently spooked with David Shannon. I've seen Rachel Barrell mortified with John Owen Jones and sweetly sympathetic with Earl Carpenter (though her Christine always seems to be Lukewarm for Erik no matter what).

I can also say, having worked with some theatre directors (and of course, every director is different in how far they view their directorial power reaching) but the ones I've talked to have said "when we're in rehearsal it's my job to show you what to do. Once that curtain comes up, my job is done: it's in your hands, you know what to do."

Of course there's a limit to defying direction, but an actors job is not just to stand there and do what they're told. They have to do it in the way that will feel most organic to them and to the people watching. Theatre direction is different than movie direction. The director can't stop the show and give the actors notes to make sure that everything goes just how they want it to. The actors have a lot of power to interpret their direction, and like I said, that interpretation can vary from show to show even when it's the exact same main cast.

So I'm sure Brightman had performances where she was more into Erik and ones where she was more into Raoul. But I don't know.

Now as for her voice, I'm going to be honest that yes it's unique and she's without a doubt a fantastic singer, I'm not a huge fan of her vocal quality. Her voice is very thick to my ears and it's just not my favourite. I don't hate it by any means, but it's just not my favourite.

As for the hate, idk. If she did have a lukewarm performance across the board, it is partially her fault, but as I've said, creating a role is a difficult thing. Other Christines have been able to look at her and form impressions, have ideas and come to conclusions that Brightman may not even have thought of at the time. It's a lot of work to build a character with nothing to go on except the book which only partially resembles the story you're acting out, so I'm disinclined to be very harsh towards her. But I think we as phans have a feeling that no matter how many Erik/Christine pairings we've seen where Christine definitely embraces her attraction to Erik and leaves only reluctantly at the end--pairings that vindicate the E/C stance a lot of us hold dear--theres a sense (and an irrational one, I think) that the original interpretations are the only ones that really matter. While that's understandable, I think it's a bit of a fallacy, because as I've said, shows like this grow over time. New interpretations add new layers and ideas occur to both actors and directors that they maybe want to approach things differently from now on. If they changed their perspectives, it must be for a reason. The first version is often flawed.

ALSO keep in mind that later Christine's, Raoul's and Phantom's have had the benefit of full-text translations of the book that weren't available to the original cast and crew. Post 1990 Christines had the benefit of knowing that, in the book, Christine practically admits to Raoul that, if Erik was handsome, she would certainly have fallen completely in love with him (and, with Erik being pretty darn sexy in the musical, that definitely shifts the perception of Christine as a character and how she would make her decisions in this musical timeline). Maybe this is a factor into why most of the 90's Christines I've seen really went in for an enthusiastic interpretation.

Who can really say?

Also yes, Hugh and Samantha slap.

She's one of my top 5 Christines.

[ingek73]

A warning to all media organisations’: Prince Harry’s statement on Mirror Group ruling

Duke of Sussex describes slow and painful road to justice as judge rules extensive hacking took place

Prince Harry has landed a significant blow in his battle with the British tabloid press after winning a substantial part of his phone-hacking case and damages against the Daily Mirror. This is the statement read outside the court by his lawyer:

“Today is a great day for truth as well as accountability. The court has ruled that unlawful and criminal activities were carried out at all three of Mirror Group’s newspaper titles (the Mirror, the Sunday Mirror and the People) on a habitual and widespread basis for more than a decade.

“I’d like to thank my legal team for so successfully dismantling the sworn testimony of Mirror Group Newspapers’ senior executives, legal department and journalists, who at least turned up to court, unlike their colleagues, who were perhaps too afraid to do so.

“This case is not just about hacking: it is about a systemic practice of unlawful and appalling behaviour, followed by coverups and destruction of evidence, the shocking scale of which can only be revealed through these proceedings.

“The court has found that Mirror Group’s principal board directors, their legal department, senior executives and editors, such as Piers Morgan, clearly knew about, or were involved in, these illegal activities. Between them, they even went as far as lying under oath to parliament, during the Leveson inquiry, to the stock exchange, and to us all ever since.

David Sherborne reads out Harry’s statement after the ruling. Photograph: Jordan Pettitt/PA

“The journey to justice can be a slow and painful one, and since bringing my claim almost five years ago, defamatory stories and intimidating tactics have been deployed against me and at my family’s expense. And so, as I too have learned through this process, patience is in fact a virtue – especially in the face of vendetta journalism.

“I hope that the court’s findings will serve as a warning to all media organisations who have employed these practices and similarly lied about them. Mirror Group’s actions were so calculated and misleading that their pattern of destroying evidence and concealing their unlawful behaviour continued into the litigation itself and, as the judge has ruled, even to this day.

“I am happy to have won the case, especially given that this trial only looked at a quarter of my entire claim. Even on just that, it is clear Mirror Group’s persistent attempts to suggest that my claim was, to quote their counsel, ‘fantastical’ and was in the ‘realms of total speculation’ and that there was ‘simply no evidence at all’ to suggest I was hacked – ‘zilch, zero, nil, nada, niente, absolutely nothing’ – were total nonsense and were used maliciously to attack my character and credibility.

“However, as Mirror Group intended, these hollow soundbites were blasted across front pages and across online platforms, and into the next day’s morning television shows. The court has in fact confirmed that all four claimants were subjected to voicemail interception and unlawful information gathering. But no one would have believed that was the case given how this trial has been covered in the UK.

“My commitment to seeing this case through is based on my belief in our need and collective right to a free and honest press, and one which is properly accountable when necessary. That is what we need in Britain and across the globe. Anything else is poisoning the well for a profession we all depend on. The acts listed in this judgment are prime examples of what happens when the power of the press is abused.

“I respectfully call upon the authorities – the financial regulator; the stock market who were deliberately deceived by Mirror Group; and indeed the Metropolitan police and prosecuting authorities – to do their duty for the British public and investigate bringing charges against the company and those who have broken the law.

“Today’s ruling is vindicating and affirming. I’ve been told that slaying dragons will get you burned. But in light of today’s victory and the importance of doing what is needed for a free and honest press – it’s a worthwhile price to pay. The mission continues.”

“Today’s ruling is vindicating and affirming. I’ve been told that slaying dragons will get you burned. But in light of today’s victory and the importance of doing what is needed for a free and honest press – it’s a worthwhile price to pay. The mission continues.”

Thats one hell of a quote