#and their first requirement was a diverse cast

[isekyaaa]

I can understand when people want a minority protagonist, but when it's a diverse cast people look for first when choosing authors, books, or movies it's this certain level of weird in which getting their social justice points in for the day matter more than the actual story. Not everywhere follows the logic of California.

[puc-puggy]

Uncensored Genital Photography

The Great Wall of Vulva (plaster casts) and their Labia Library (uncensored photos) Comfortable In My Skin — “Flip Through My Flaps” (vulva) and “Solicited Dick Pics” (penises) Large Labia Project Labia Library Breast Gallery- Nonsexualized Images of real, anonymously submitted breasts Critique My Dick Pic [tumbex archive]- real submitted dick centric nudes

Sex Ed-General

Our Bodies, Ourselves Scarleteen

Trans-General

Trans Bodies, Trans Selves TransBucket- account required, before and after pictures of gender confirmation procedures Trans Digital Archive- historical trans materials r/TransSurgeryWiki -surgery info & reddit-centric link drop DIY HRT Guide

Trans Men/Masc

r/GrowYourTDick (bottom growth) r/Transmascdicks (prosthetic penises) Body Alchemy: Transsexual Portraits by Loren Cameron, which includes images of genitalia in its "Genital Reconstruction" section, page 46. Portraits of clothed trans masculine people other than the author begin on page 34 in the "New Man Series." A Genitoplasty Diary by Lou Sullivan (1984-1987) (no images but fascinating)

Trans Women/Femme

Transfeminine Science r/TransBreastTimelines in-browser recreation of a 90s mac in order to run a 90s trans information CD-Rom

Intersex

InterAct's Intersex FAQ InterAct's collection of informative brochures & guides Intersex Human Rights Australia: Celebrating Intersex Firsts on TV JSTOR: Intersex Narratives: Shifts in the Representation of Intersex Lives in North American Literature and Popular Culture, by Viola Amato Human Rights Campaign: Understanding the Intersex Community GLAAD Media Reference Guide: Intersex People my post with appropriate disclaimers, includes instructions on navigating hostile spaces to view genitalia imagery

Genital Art

The Vulva Gallery for LOTS of educational content, community questions, and vulvas of all kinds, including queer and transmasc people The Body Diversity Gallery for genitals, penises, bellies, bums, bodies, breasts and chests of all kinds conscious_euphoria / Ocean Grove for more queer, nonbinary and transmasc centric content. Similar setup to the vulva gallery with lots of educational content too along with some occasional kink education content (linktree)

[reasonsforhope]

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi is, by some measures, the most popular leader in the world. Prior to the 2024 election, his Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) held an outright majority in the Lok Sabha (India’s Parliament) — one that was widely projected to grow after the vote count. The party regularly boasted that it would win 400 Lok Sabha seats, easily enough to amend India’s constitution along the party's preferred Hindu nationalist lines.

But when the results were announced on Tuesday, the BJP held just 240 seats. They not only underperformed expectations, they actually lost their parliamentary majority. While Modi will remain prime minister, he will do so at the helm of a coalition government — meaning that he will depend on other parties to stay in office, making it harder to continue his ongoing assault on Indian democracy.

So what happened? Why did Indian voters deal a devastating blow to a prime minister who, by all measures, they mostly seem to like?

India is a massive country — the most populous in the world — and one of the most diverse, making its internal politics exceedingly complicated. A definitive assessment of the election would require granular data on voter breakdown across caste, class, linguistic, religious, age, and gender divides. At present, those numbers don’t exist in sufficient detail. 

But after looking at the information that is available and speaking with several leading experts on Indian politics, there are at least three conclusions that I’m comfortable drawing.

First, voters punished Modi for putting his Hindu nationalist agenda ahead of fixing India’s unequal economy. Second, Indian voters had some real concerns about the decline of liberal democracy under BJP rule. Third, the opposition parties waged a smart campaign that took advantage of Modi’s vulnerabilities on the economy and democracy.

Understanding these factors isn’t just important for Indians. The country’s election has some universal lessons for how to beat a would-be authoritarian — ones that Americans especially might want to heed heading into its election in November.

-via Vox, June 7, 2024. Article continues below.

A new (and unequal) economy

Modi’s biggest and most surprising losses came in India’s two most populous states: Uttar Pradesh in the north and Maharashtra in the west. Both states had previously been BJP strongholds — places where the party’s core tactic of pitting the Hindu majority against the Muslim minority had seemingly cemented Hindu support for Modi and his allies.

One prominent Indian analyst, Yogendra Yadav, saw the cracks in advance. Swimming against the tide of Indian media, he correctly predicted that the BJP would fall short of a governing majority.

Traveling through the country, but especially rural Uttar Pradesh, he prophesied “the return of normal politics”: that Indian voters were no longer held spellbound by Modi’s charismatic nationalist appeals and were instead starting to worry about the way politics was affecting their lives.

Yadav’s conclusions derived in no small part from hearing voters’ concerns about the economy. The issue wasn’t GDP growth — India’s is the fastest-growing economy in the world — but rather the distribution of growth’s fruits. While some of Modi’s top allies struck it rich, many ordinary Indians suffered. Nearly half of all Indians between 20 and 24 are unemployed; Indian farmers have repeatedly protested Modi policies that they felt hurt their livelihoods.

“Everyone was talking about price rise, unemployment, the state of public services, the plight of farmers, [and] the struggles of labor,” Yadav wrote...

“We know for sure that Modi’s strongman image and brassy self-confidence were not as popular with voters as the BJP assumed,” says Sadanand Dhume, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute who studies India. 

The lesson here isn’t that the pocketbook concerns trump identity-based appeals everywhere; recent evidence in wealthier democracies suggests the opposite is true. Rather, it’s that even entrenched reputations of populist leaders are not unshakeable. When they make errors, even some time ago, it’s possible to get voters to remember these mistakes and prioritize them over whatever culture war the populist is peddling at the moment.

Liberalism strikes back

The Indian constitution is a liberal document: It guarantees equality of all citizens and enshrines measures designed to enshrine said equality into law. The signature goal of Modi’s time in power has been to rip this liberal edifice down and replace it with a Hindu nationalist model that pushes non-Hindus to the social margins. In pursuit of this agenda, the BJP has concentrated power in Modi’s hands and undermined key pillars of Indian democracy (like a free press and independent judiciary).

Prior to the election, there was a sense that Indian voters either didn’t much care about the assault on liberal democracy or mostly agreed with it. But the BJP’s surprising underperformance suggests otherwise.

The Hindu, a leading Indian newspaper, published an essential post-election data analysis breaking down what we know about the results. One of the more striking findings is that the opposition parties surged in parliamentary seats reserved for members of “scheduled castes” — the legal term for Dalits, the lowest caste grouping in the Hindu hierarchy.

Caste has long been an essential cleavage in Indian politics, with Dalits typically favoring the left-wing Congress party over the BJP (long seen as an upper-caste party). Under Modi, the BJP had seemingly tamped down on the salience of class by elevating all Hindus — including Dalits — over Muslims. Yet now it’s looking like Dalits were flocking back to Congress and its allies. Why?

According to experts, Dalit voters feared the consequences of a BJP landslide. If Modi’s party achieved its 400-seat target, they’d have more than enough votes to amend India’s constitution. Since the constitution contains several protections designed to promote Dalit equality — including a first-in-the-world affirmative action system — that seemed like a serious threat to the community. It seems, at least based on preliminary data, that they voted accordingly.

The Dalit vote is but one example of the ways in which Modi’s brazen willingness to assail Indian institutions likely alienated voters.

Uttar Pradesh (UP), India’s largest and most electorally important state, was the site of a major BJP anti-Muslim campaign. It unofficially kicked off its campaign in the UP city of Ayodhya earlier this year, during a ceremony celebrating one of Modi’s crowning achievements: the construction of a Hindu temple on the site of a former mosque that had been torn down by Hindu nationalists in 1992. 

Yet not only did the BJP lose UP, it specifically lost the constituency — the city of Faizabad — in which the Ayodhya temple is located. It’s as direct an electoral rebuke to BJP ideology as one can imagine.

In Maharashtra, the second largest state, the BJP made a tactical alliance with a local politician, Ajit Pawar, facing serious corruption charges. Voters seemingly punished Modi’s party for turning a blind eye to Pawar’s offenses against the public trust. Across the country, Muslim voters turned out for the opposition to defend their rights against Modi’s attacks.

The global lesson here is clear: Even popular authoritarians can overreach.

By turning “400 seats” into a campaign slogan, an all-but-open signal that he intended to remake the Indian state in his illiberal image, Modi practically rang an alarm bell for constituencies worried about the consequences. So they turned out to stop him en masse.

The BJP’s electoral underperformance is, in no small part, the direct result of their leader’s zealotry going too far.

Return of the Gandhis? 

Of course, Modi’s mistakes might not have mattered had his rivals failed to capitalize. The Indian opposition, however, was far more effective than most observers anticipated.

Perhaps most importantly, the many opposition parties coordinated with each other. Forming a united bloc called INDIA (Indian National Developmental Inclusive Alliance), they worked to make sure they weren’t stealing votes from each other in critical constituencies, positioning INDIA coalition candidates to win straight fights against BJP rivals.

The leading party in the opposition bloc — Congress — was also more put together than people thought. Its most prominent leader, Rahul Gandhi, was widely dismissed as a dilettante nepo baby: a pale imitation of his father Rajiv and grandmother Indira, both former Congress prime ministers. Now his critics are rethinking things.

“I owe Rahul Gandhi an apology because I seriously underestimated him,” says Manjari Miller, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations.

Miller singled out Gandhi’s yatras (marches) across India as a particularly canny tactic. These physically grueling voyages across the length and breadth of India showed that he wasn’t just a privileged son of Indian political royalty, but a politician willing to take risks and meet ordinary Indians where they were. During the yatras, he would meet directly with voters from marginalized groups and rail against Modi’s politics of hate.

“The persona he’s developed — as somebody kind, caring, inclusive, [and] resolute in the face of bullying — has really worked and captured the imagination of younger India,” says Suryanarayan. “If you’ve spent any time on Instagram Reels, [you’ll see] an entire generation now waking up to Rahul Gandhi’s very appealing videos.”

This, too, has a lesson for the rest of the world: Tactical innovation from the opposition matters even in an unfair electoral context.

There is no doubt that, in the past 10 years, the BJP stacked the political deck against its opponents. They consolidated control over large chunks of the national media, changed campaign finance law to favor themselves, suborned the famously independent Indian Electoral Commission, and even intimidated the Supreme Court into letting them get away with it. 

The opposition, though, managed to find ways to compete even under unfair circumstances. Strategic coordination between them helped consolidate resources and ameliorate the BJP cash advantage. Direct voter outreach like the yatra helped circumvent BJP dominance in the national media.

To be clear, the opposition still did not win a majority. Modi will have a third term in office, likely thanks in large part to the ways he rigged the system in his favor.

Yet there is no doubt that the opposition deserves to celebrate. Modi’s power has been constrained and the myth of his invincibility wounded, perhaps mortally. Indian voters, like those in Brazil and Poland before them, have dealt a major blow to their homegrown authoritarian faction.

And that is something worth celebrating.

-via Vox, June 7, 2024.

[windvexer]

Do you know if there's a chance that someone just... Can't do magic? I feel like none of my spells work despite trying different methods and advice, I've never been chosen by a deity like most practicioners seem to be, I feel like there's something I'm missing fundamentally that means I just can't make magic. How can I check, so I stop giving myself hope and then having it crushed?

Perhaps a bad faith take, but I doubt most practitioners have been chosen by deities. I am of the opinion that many people believe they are supposed to be chosen and then use very lax systems of omen reading to justify that such-and-such god is claiming them.

Over the years, many people have asked me for help getting their spells to work, or solving such-and-such magical blockage.

And unfortunately, just about every time, the end result is that the person really has not done as much work as they think they have done, and they are still more or less on square one (or square zero) of practice.

Here are the sorts of questions I would ask you if we were chatting about this:

Focus

What specific school of magic are you trying to learn? "Witchcraft" and "magic" are not schools. Are you trying to learn Traditional Witchcraft? Lodge Magic? Chaos Magick? Appalachian Folk Magic? Dianic Wicca?

Out of the school of magic you are trying to learn, how many books have you read about it?

Out of those books, how many of them focused on actual technique and theory? As in, explaining the magical theories as to why this system works the way it does.

Do you have a clear understanding of why this magical system works the way it does? Can you describe it to me?

Within the magical system you have chosen to study, is there a clearly laid groundwork for what practitioners are supposed to have to do before they are valid/initiated/adept within this system? If so, have you achieved all of those requirements?

How many months of ongoing study and practice do you think is reasonable until you are ready to move to a new school of focus?

Learning Plan

Witchcraft is a complex and variable skill that, like writing a novel, requires a working knowledge of many diverse skillsets.

What is the specific goal you are working towards at this time? "Getting a spell to work" is not specific enough. "Casting a prosperity spell that is able to generate small amounts of cash, gifts, or benefits within a 2 week period" is the type of thing I mean.

What is your lesson plan to achieve that goal? An example might be, 1) read a book on prosperity magic, 2) study and research 5 accessible plants related to prosperity, 3) learn an energy raising technique, 4) learn how to charge correspondences, 5) learn how to add correspondences to candle spell, 6) learn magical timing techniques.

Even if you do not have a lesson plan, can you name the top 3 things you have been actively practicing to try and become a better practitioner? Examples might be energy raising, visualizing techniques, talking to spirits.

Once you formulate a lesson plan, ask yourself how many hours you think is reasonable to spend on each step. If you don't think you've ever successfully raised energy before, do you think it's fair that you might require 10 hours of practice learning your first energy raising technique before you can do it?

Could you explain to me the steps you believe are required to perform magic? Include how many hours you've spent practicing techniques applicable to each step.

Practice

Think of magic as being like learning to close a restaurant by yourself. You must be experienced in all of the stations, and have in-depth knowledge about the standards required. Do you also have such experience and understanding when it comes to your own craft?

Outside of reading and study, since the start of your practice, how many hours of concerted effort have you put in trying to perform magical techniques? This includes energy work, casting spells, sensing energies, divination, talking to spirits.

Write a list of each specific magical technique you have tried to learn. Not just "energy work" but, "Earth-roots grounding visualization to raise or balance energy into the planet." "Gathering energy into the lungs and exhaling to release excess energy." "Trying to contact the spirits of tarot cards." Be very specific. Next, write down how many hours you think you have spent practicing each technique. Which techniques have you spent more than 10 hours practicing, even if that practice is across years?

Write down every spell you ever remember trying to cast. How many are there?

Of all the spells you've tried to cast, are they from a wide variety of intents (such as prosperity, protection, luck, binding, conjuring), or are they mostly one type (e.g., prosperity)? Write down how many different kinds of spells you've tried to cast, based on intent. Have you practiced at least 5-10 spells in each category?

Technique

You've asked me, so given the way I do things:

How long does it take you to cast simple spells? Do you think it might be reasonable to expect that casting even a simple spell could take 30 minutes or more?

When you work spells, how long does it take you to raise energy? This can also include hours/days spent finding objects/ingredients of natural power. Would you say that you spend at least 10-15 minutes raising magical power for every spell that you cast?

When you work spells, how do you imprint/program energy? How do you stamp it with your intent so you know it's going to do what you want it to do?

When you work spells, how do you deliver them to their target? What techniques and methods do you employ to make sure they can get to where they need to go?

Before you cast spells, how much divination or investigation do you perform to make sure the spell will be effective for your purposes? Even a perfect screwdriver will fail where a hammer is required.

Do you use traditional techniques like aligning your spells to planetary timing, gathering taglocks, casting circles, or calling quarters?

Hygiene

How often do you perform self-cleansing? Otherworldly grime can obfuscate magical power.

Have you ever cast, or had others cast for you, unblocking or unbinding spells to help open the roads of your power?

How often do you engage in managing your personal energy? For example, centering/reclaiming exercises to pull escaped energy back into yourself, or energy gathering exercises to build up personal power.

Resources

Of the people you are asking for magical help, are they all a part of the same group who carry similar worldviews and would tend to suggest the same advice?

Of the people you are asking for magical help, how many of them are able to affirm that they are mentors, teachers, spirit doctors, or consultants qualified to help people with the problem you have?

Do you have a group you can work with to practice skills, such as energy charging and energy reading?

When you cast spells, do you have someone you can send photos of the spellwork to, so they can try to perform readings or diagnosis on what's actually going on?

Reality

Have you chosen a start date for your practice (such as, "I've been a practitioner for 2 years,") but in reality you have only tried to practice magic for a very limited time (say, 1 or 2 months out of that period)? If so, is it possible that you are comparing yourself to the success of a practitioner of 2 years, instead of a practitioner of 2 months?

Does the kind of magic you believe in dictate that rigor and technique are required to achieve results? Or are you more working in the "visualize and believe" arena?

Are you comparing your successes to people who are telling the truth about their practice? Is it possible people you are comparing yourself to are not using rigorous self-assessment when they calculate their own wins?

Are you comparing your successes to people who may have been practicing for decades or more on intensive paths, or who have spent thousands of hours honing their practice within a single area?

Are you being realistic about what actual success looks like? For example, casting a protection spell, something not protected against happens, and then deciding that because something bad in general happened, the entire protection failed.

Anyway Anon, to actually answer your question: no, I don't believe some people just "can't do magic." In very rare circumstances, some people may have serious blockages or entanglements going on that must be resolved before they can do magic. Others may require less intensive spellwork like unblocking to clear the way (like idk, maybe granny prayed over you in the crib that you'd never get involved with all this evil occult stuff).

It's my experience that almost everyone who thinks they can't do magic, if they were being very honest with themselves, would have a hard time coming up with actual lists of things they have done to try to be better at magic; they have perhaps practiced for a handful of hours across several months; they are not learning core skills (like energy work, divination, or trancework); and they are not working off of tried-and-true systems, but are rather setting up camp at the intersection of every possible shortcut (clear quartz, rosemary, and roses are universal substitutes; you don't have to use any physical tools or ingredients; visualization is the same as energy raising; intent is all you need; traditional methods of targeting such as obtaining taglocks are irrelevant; casting a circle is irrelevant; magical headspace is irrelevant; building and consecrating of holy areas such as altars is irrelevant; astrological timing and places of power are irrelevant; going to great lengths to obtain or preserve power is irrelevant).

The other 3% of people pissed on a fairy tree when they were kids and need to spend a couple of months working with a mediator to rectify their relationship with the spirit world.

Do feel free to DM me, if you like.

[daresplaining]

I know of and respect your dislike of the Daredevil tv series, but I wanted to ask if you might have reading recs to familiarize myself with what the Born Again series is planning. Heather Glenn, Muse, Mayor Fisk, etc. I've read some relevant comics, but I'm not sure if I'm missing something important. What runs and issues might I need to hit? ♥

I mean, listen, "dislike" is a strong word. There was a time when this show was very fun to me. If it were to stop filtering into the comics, and if Marvel stopped treating the other Netflix shows like second-rate afterthoughts, it might become fun to me again. Regardless, I'm always thrilled to help with things like this!

Heather Glenn

Heather was introduced in Daredevil volume 1 #126, when she wandered into her ex-boyfriend's apartment and found Matt living there instead. She became a member of the core Daredevil cast, dating Matt and serving as an assistant at the law firm. She was tragically central in Matt's earliest life-falls-apart storylines, and remained an important recurring character for a span of roughly 80-or-so issues. In other words, she's a pretty big deal, and I'm excited to learn she will be making the leap to the MCU. (Heather's family's company, Glenn Industries, was actually mentioned in Luke Cage season 2. But referencing that would require them to, you know, acknowledge the existence of Luke Cage, so we'll see.)

Heather's appearances include: Daredevil volume 1 #126-132, 134-138, 141-154, 157-160, 165-167, 169, 171, 174-177, 182-186, 189, 195, and 220. In particular, you'll want to check out #147-154 and 182-186, 189.

Muse

Muse was introduced in Daredevil volume 5 #10 as a terrifyingly dangerous antagonist for budding superhero Blindspot/Sam Chung (who was already introduced to the MCU in Iron Fist season 2!), and appeared in issues #10-14 and #596-600 (don't let the high numbers alarm you— this took place during a period when all of Marvel's comics briefly switched to their legacy numbering). Muse is also now being brought back in the current Daredevil: Unleash Hell mini-series starring Elektra.

Mayor Fisk

The "Mayor Fisk" plotline is also from Daredevil volume 5. Volume 5 was the first Daredevil run to come out following the release of the show, which had a noticeable impact on both the writing and art, so it's fascinating to see it now impacting the show in such a big way in return. Truly, a full circle. The initial story arc is covered in issues #595-600, but Fisk remained the mayor all the way through the end of volume 5 and all of volume 6 before finally being defeated in the next election in Devil's Reign— a story that was centered around Mayor Fisk's draconian laws against superheroes.

White Tiger(s)

I've also heard mention of a White Tiger appearance? This is an extremely cool superhero legacy born out of the era of Marvel's kung fu superheroes alongside Shang-Chi, Iron Fist, the Daughters of the Dragon, and the Sons of the Tiger (who are also tied into the White Tiger legacy). The White Tigers wield martial arts mastery and superhuman enhancements channeled from a magical amulet. The first White Tiger, Hector Ayala, was introduced in the Deadly Hands of Kung Fu anthology magazine exactly 50 years ago this year! While definitely a product of its time, DHKF was notable for cultivating and promoting a diverse cast of protagonists, and Hector was Marvel's very first Latino superhero. His origin story begins in #19, at the end of the issue's Sons of the Tiger comic installment, and then continues in #20-24, 26-27, and 29-32. He also appeared in Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man volume 1 #9-10, 18-32, and 49-52, starred in the retrospective story "Pa'lante Juntos" in Marvel's Voices: Comunidades in 2021, and— possibly most relevant, in this instance— was at the center of the Daredevil story arc "The Trial of the Century" (Daredevil volume 2 #38-40).

That story was followed soon afterward by the introduction of the second White Tiger, Hector's niece, Angela Del Toro (who was actually already name-dropped in Jessica Jones!). She appeared in Daredevil volume 2 #59, 65-70, 77-79, 113-115, 119-510, had her own White Tiger mini-series, and has appeared in a few other places as well (notably, Shadowland and New Avengers (2015)). The third White Tiger is Angela's aunt, Ava Ayala, who was introduced in Avengers Academy (2010) #21 and also appeared in Mighty Avengers, Captain America and the Mighty Avengers, and New Avengers (2015), as well as having her own story in Marvel's Voices: Comunidades. (She was also a main character in the Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon.) Finally, there is another White Tiger, just named "White Tiger", a literal anthropomorphic tiger who was introduced in Heroes for Hire volume 1. She's not connected at all to the previously established White Tiger legacy, and if she somehow gets referenced in this Daredevil show, I will put ketchup on my copy of Mike Murdock's introductory issue and eat it. (But you should read Heroes for Hire volume 1 anyway, because it's really fun.)

Kirsten McDuffie

Is Kirsten also still in this? I recall a time when sources claimed she was in this. Regardless, everyone should read some Kirsten McDuffie comics. They're good for your health. Kirsten was introduced in Daredevil volume 3 #1 and was part of the core cast in all of volume 3, Daredevil: Road Warrior, and volume 4, plus Daredevil: Dark Nights #4-5, then reappeared in Daredevil volume 5 #17-20, Man Without Fear (2019) #2, Daredevil volume 6 #23-24 and a few other scattered issues afterward, Devil's Reign #3-5 and Devil's Reign: Omega.

"Born Again"

The new season is called "Born Again", so I guess you should read "Born Again" (Daredevil volume 1 #227-233)? Even though season 3 already kind of adapted it? Either way, it's a great, classic story arc that I recommend checking out if you haven't.

I hope this helps! Please don't hesitate to ask about any other references that interest you. I'm not sure I'll be actively seeking them out myself, but I'm very happy to receive and talk about them.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What are your thoughts on Nathaniel as a character?

One piece of praise that I'll give Miraculous is that they did a good job with the minor side characters for the first three seasons. While none of the side characters have been super developed - which isn't a flaw, they're side characters - there's enough there for people to see genuine potential in them. That potential comes from the fact that all of the pre-season-four teens feel like unique individuals that add diversity to their world. None of them are interchangeable which is why almost every side character has at least a few fans who have latched onto that character and will defend them with their lives.

I have nothing against that. It makes perfect sense! If you've fallen in love with a minor side character and love to play with them then more power to you! However, this is a writing blog so we're going to talk about this from a writing perspective not a fan enjoyment perspective. Before we do that, I want to quickly define some rough levels of character importance. Note that there's some gray area here, but I need terms to work with for this discussion to make sense as "side character" is simply too broad a category for this discussion to make sense without some reasonably clear sub-categories.

Character "Levels" in Order of Importance

Main characters - the characters that the story revolves around. If you remove them, then the story falls apart because they're a foundational part of the narrative. Examples: Gabriel and Marinette

Main side characters - the reoccurring characters who aren't needed for the story to function, but who have a clear unique-and-narratively-important role in the story. Remove them and the story requires massive rewrites. Note that I said role, not character or even job. Examples: Alya who is Marinette's best friend and Nathalie who is Gabriel's confident, partner, and many other things

Minor side characters - reoccurring characters that have some level of character development such as having a clear personality, interest(s), and/or relationships. These characters may be given narrative importance in one-off episodes, but their important role will be episode-specific and not something key to the overall narrative. Examples: Kim, Rose, and most of the other teen characters

Background side characters - characters that show up in multiple episodes, but don't have an actual character. They're just there to fill out the world. Examples: Chloe's butler and the lollipop baby

One-off characters - characters that only appear in a single episode. Examples: characters who were only created to become akumas like Mylene's dad who became The Mime and the sculptor who became Copycat

Nathaniel's Place in the Narrative

If we look at the above list, then Nathaniel is a minor side character. He has clear personality traits, interests, and even some clear relationships, but he has no role in the overall narrative. He's not the a main character's best friend or rival. He's not a serious love interest. He's not a mentor or a villain. He's just one of Marinette's many friends which means that you could cut him from the show and the story would still work perfectly fine as the only friend who really matters to the narrative is Alya. That doesn't stop you from making a role for Nathaniel in a fanwork, but it's going to be something you made up not something you're pulling from canon even if it's based on things from canon.

That may sound odd to some since Nathaniel has a full-time miraculous so he's clearly a member of team miraculous, but that's the problem with team miraculous. Over half of the reoccurring cast is part of team miraculous! That means that being a part of team miraculous now holds the same narrative weight as a person being a part of Marinette's class. It's not a well-developed team with unique roles as you can see from the answer to a very simple question: how did Nathaniel earn his miraculous?

Answer: he was physical present when Marinette needed enough people to fill out a football team and Marinette decided to honor that one-off assignment when she handed out permanent miraculous.

That issue is not unique to Nathaniel. Most of team miraculous got their miraculous because Marinette knows them and not because they did anything to prove themselves worthy. Team miraculous is more Ladybug's pokémon than Ladybug's trusted team or even just her valued coworkers. That brings us to a good general rule that you can use to differentiate between main and minor side characters: can a person be told everything they need to know about this character in less than a minute? Let's do a quick exercise to show what I mean.

If Kagami is used in an episode, then any or all of the following may be relevant information: she's a sentimonster, she's Adrien's ex, she knows Ladybug's identity, she and Marinette used to be rivals, she's dating Felix who is Adrien's cousin, she's the holder of the dragon miraculous, she knows the truth about Gabriel, she's the daughter of Tomoe who is some sort of villain that used to work with Gabriel

If Nathaniel is used in an episode, then any or all of the following may be relevant information: he likes to draw superhero comics, he's dating Marc, he's the holder of the goat miraculous, and he used to have a crush on Marinette

As you can see from this list, there are things about Kagami that cannot be quickly communicated to the audience. You have to watch the whole show to understand her. That makes it hard to use her character in an episodic show.

Nathaniel doesn't have those issues. Someone can catch a random episode about his character and have no trouble following along as you can see if you look at these four episodes where Nathaniel gets focused attention: The Evillustrator, Reverser, Gabriel Agreste, and Penalteam. You can watch those in any order and get what's going on. Watch Kagami's episodes out of order and you'll be lost.

This means that Nathaniel is arguably a better addition to the cast because Miraculous is an episodic show. I'm not surprised that he already got a one-off episode in season six because that's why shows like Miraculous have large casts of narratively unimportant minor side characters. They're filler fodder that's there to allow the writers to tell lots of stories without making the show feel too serialized.

My Thoughts on Nathaniel

I'm not the kind of person who delights in developing stories around minor side characters. It feels too much like writing original fiction and I have plenty of original fiction to work on if I want to do that. When it comes to fanfiction, I want to focus on canon's big story elements, the main characters, and/or the main side characters. I'll happily elevate a minor side character to a bigger role if I feel like I need them for the story to work, but I don't force it even if I love the character. For example, my favorite minor side characters are Juleka and Rose, but I rarely ever use them because they're like Nathaniel. They have no clear narrative role that only they can fill so I'm not going to force them into a story when I don't need them. Kill your darlings is a golden rule for a reason!

Nathaniel doesn't make my favorites list, but I don't have any strong negative feelings for him either. I see why people like him, but nothing I've written or even just thought up has him acting as core member of the cast. In my opinion, the core cast is bloated as hell if you're trying to tell a serialized story so I look for people to cut not for ways to add in all of the larger cast. I cut basically every teen but Luka, Kagami, Chloe, Alya, Nino, Adrien, and Marinette. Even then, that list is often shortened to the main four or even the main two depending on the story. I only use all seven in a full rewrite scenario. All of the other teens are limited to minor cameos because they just aren't needed to tell a good canon-focused story and I'm only interested in stuff that focuses on the main elements of canon.

All that being said, I do have one minor way that I might use Nathaniel in the context of a canon rewrite. I like the idea of expanding his crush on Marinette to give Marinette a common teenage experience that feeds her anxiety and explains her crush issues. For this to make sense please note that I usually age the cast up to their first year of lycée. That way they're just a little bit older and it makes a little more sense for all these new kids to be showing up. Also note that this isn't meant to make Nathaniel look bad. No one looks bad in this setup. That's why I like it!

I like the idea that Nathaniel and Marinette were somewhat close in collège. Not best friends, but long-term classmates and mutual members of the art club who got along and spent a decent amount of time together. This led Nathaniel to develop a crush on Marinette. He kept quite about the crush for a long time, but when the end of collège loomed close, he bolstered his courage and asked her out. Marinette anxiety babbled an incredibly awkward, but not unkind rejection.

After that, Nathaniel started avoiding Marinette. Marinette freaked out and tried to fix things. After a few over-the-top fixing attempts that ended poorly, Nathaniel told her that there wasn't an easy fix to this. That it's okay that she rejected him, but it hurt and he needs some space to get over her. She asked how long and he said that he didn't know. The answer ended up being longer than the remaining school year. Collège ended and they went to different lycée so their relationship just kind of ended. No reconciliation but also no animosity. Life just moved on.

This experience fed Marinette's anxiety, leading her anxiety-brain to draw the conclusion that confessions are a bad thing. After all, Nathaniel had a crush on her for ages and everything was fine. The problems only came post-confession. This means that confessions should only happen when you're certain that both parties want to date. Because of this, Marinette will do everything in her power to avoid a romantic confession from a friend. She also refuses to confess her own feelings until she's certain that the feelings are mutual. She's not losing another friend to a crush!

As you can hopefully see, nothing about that paints Nathaniel as a bad guy. It just takes his one-sided crush and uses it to give Marinette issues around dating without those issues being serious trauma that needs professional intervention. Instead, it's just a normal and relatable teenage experience that she needs to work though. I use Nathaniel for this because he's the best fit for it. He canonically had a one-sided crush on Marinette, they're canonically in the art club together, and he's a minor character meaning that I don't need to give him and Marinette a reconciliation arc like I would if I used Nino instead. Plus I like pairing Nino and Alya and Nino is Adrien's best friend so giving Nino and Marinette a past just feels needlessly complex.

Since this may come up, I'll note that I also wouldn't use Luka for this because Luka and Nathaniel aren't interchangeable. While they're both artists of some kind, they're still wildly different characters with contrasting personalities. Luka is absurdly laid back. When Marinette rejected Luka, he was cool with it and their friendship could have continued unchanged if it weren't for Marinette not knowing how to handle things. Nathaniel would not act that way. He's a pretty passionate guy making him the kind of character who would need space. That's the kind of character I need for this idea to work.

[some-small-mercy]

Abhari Atlas - An Introduction to the Outer Seas

When the Celestial Host cast down and butchered the Arch-Demons of the lower depths and from them made Creation, they did not do so with a single mind, or in a single effort. The Inner World upon which you and I walk is perfectly formed, and aligned with every principle of True and Beauty - it is for this reason that the Great Gods of Heaven believed it a suitable home for the sublime Order of man and spirit we know as civilization. Make no mistake, I am no Godsemeren pollyanna - the Inner World is replete with heresy and witchcraft, with demons and apostates and every other horror. But it is full, too, of honor and beauty, of loyalty and piety, and of all the countless Glories which obedience to the Chain of Being and true Religion allow. 

But the Inner - or, as I have elsewhere argued it should be more rightly called, the Higher - World was the Celestial Divines’ masterwork, not their first attempt. In ages past, the learned and pious believed that it was built upon the ruins of these previous efforts, and it was from this imperfection that the taint of demology and witchcraft first seeped into the world. I am loathe to contradict such august and ancient sources, but in our modern age this has been proven false - the prototypes and failed attempts at the creation of the World were not destroyed or built over, they were instead cast down and hidden away, or put by the Heavens to some lesser purpose suitable to their failings and what virtues they had. 

There is a great diversity among the nations and the peoples of the Higher World and so the first service provided by a study of the Outer Seas is a contrast by which their similarities might be seen. They are all, for example, human, born imbued with a mortal soul and an honoured place in the Chain of Being. Thus, it is only through sin or tragedy that their form becomes misshapen or corrupted - this is not the case for the greater part of the creatures whose crude facsimiles of government and culture populate most Outer Seas. Not all, of course - some come close to the perfection of the Higher World, their peoples only barely distinguishable from our own. Others are earlier and less finished prototypes, or else abandoned due to some fundamental corruption or flaw, and their natives the same. Yet others were the prisons of great Titans or other fallen Angels, and even if they were once filled with true humanity, ages of capricious interference and corruption have left their descendents weakened or deformed in some manner, either in body or soul. They are not demons, or even goblins, but obvious signs of this inhumanity in visage or bearing, and hereditary tendencies to some particular corruption, abound. It is for these reasons and more that no Outer Sea has produced true Civilization or true Religion on its own, and none have proved capable of equalling the achievements or resisting the arms of the Higher World without the open support of another fully human power (however corrupt it might be). 

It was through just that corruption that the Outer Seas were first discovered - for who but warlocks and apostates would ever cut their way through the skein of the world into the abyss beyond, without any surety that there was a solitary thing to be found? Yet the piety and virtue of the Hierarch then ruling in Imir was soon rewarded with a method of invoking the grace and power of Heaven and its Sublime Will which opened the way for the World-Empire’s own ships. The methods and engines are closely guarded trade secrets of the relevant guilds and orders, but in any case require great ocean-going vessels and occulted prayers and rites that are in every case beyond the means of any lacking the genius of true humanity. 

The methods by which Outer Seas are charted are occulted, but their organization is obvious and clear, arranged in harmonious alignment such that their cosmic distance to the Higher World and the ease with which they can be reached mirrors the severity of their flaws and corruption. Thus the Pearl Sea, one of the nearest and first-charted, is almost indistinguishable from the heartlands of the Empire, and its populace - once winnowed in the Crusade that won it - so close to full humanity to be as worthy of the name as a great many peasants along the Empire’s other marches and borderlands. Thus also, though less happily, the Onyx Sea where the Celmean League’s colonies and daughter-cities have recruited from and interbred with the existing populace so eagerly with no loss of skill or vigor - and where under the Lord Regent’s Tyranny the Empire’s own holdings were lost entirely in one disastrous war after another.

Most Seas are not so blessed of course. Arrayed in an astral orrery, they spiral out, descending from the Higher World and growing more unfinished and flawed in perfect sequence. The remainder that are so close to true reality that a layman would not notice the difference are so small and marginal as to not be worth contesting the claims other principalities have made on them. The next great prizes are middling seas, obviously unfinished and dangerous to both body and soul to sail, yet full of riches and opportunity for glory that explain why the Gods Above allowed mortal eyes to chart the course to them. Here are the great prisons and blasphemous ateliers of Titan and Fae, the kingdoms of oxen walking on two hooves and birds conversing wholly through the fractured words of their long-dead trainers. This, then, is the land where legends and fortunes are made, and where treasure fleets and privateer squadrons sail for under every flag. They are also, as a whole, the theaters within which civilized powers now compete to outdo each other in colonial glory, and where each struggles to put the native creatures encountered to their most beneficial purpose. The rare examples where the creatures have not yet been brought to heel by one power or another - the cavern-dwelling clans of the Iron Sea, mostly famously - remain so by the combination of unusually belligerent and untrusting natives and a lack of treasures to justify the cost. 

At an even further remove are the Seas so primitive and distant from the Divine Plan that the dangers yet outweigh the riches and revelations they offer. Thus, the Starlit Sea, where there is neither dawn nor moon nor horizon, and the stars above are reflected by the glittering heralds of ruin beneath the waves. Thus the Whispering Depths, where any wind can be bought only with the sacrifice of a mortal soul whose breath might move it - and whose voice and secrets then taunt any who hear them for a year and a day. Thus, most of all, the Abyss itself, as dark and depthless as any entrance to Perdition, whose waters swallow ship and swimmer alike.

In the remainder of this treatise, then, I shall focus my efforts on those middling seas, and most specifically on the demi- and in-humans creatures which call them home and which must be truly brought to heel for the Empire’s banner to settle itself in their lands…

-A Discourse on the Higher and Lower Seas, by Brother Adrien of the Poor Fellows of the Sacred Pyre. Despite his later censure for Hierocratic sympathies the work remains a standard reference throughout the Holy Illyrin Empire

[pixelatedshinobi]

Super Robot Wars Mu - A SRW RP! Accepting Applications!

Hey there! Are you:

A fan of giant fighting robots?

Interested in text-based roleplaying games?

Dying of anticipation for Super Robot Wars Y?

If one or all of these statements apply to you, you might be interested in Super Robot Taisen MOO!

What is SRTMOO, you might ask?

SRTMOO is an online roleplaying game inspired by the Super Robot Wars series of video games! Taking place in a combined setting that draws from more than 50 years of mecha and giant hero properties, it chronicles a world's shaky journey to the stars.,

SRTMOO is in its fourth year since opening in January of 2022, in "Phase 2, Turn 2" of a long-term cycle set to run 3-4 Phases, each consisting of between three and six Turns and occasional 'Special Disc' periods that allow a little cooldown and theme maintenance.

We're currently running a little low on personnel, and are holding a recruitment drive to bolster our numbers!

Find out more under the cut or at srtmoo.net/

SRTMOO is a game run in the "MU" system of online chat-based RP by @yurimobilefort.bsky.social. We have a custom battle system, called "Kantaisen" that allows for turn-based combat replicating the actual feel of an SRPG. The opportunities for play and interaction in it are virtually endless!

SRTMOO has a large and diverse cast of appable characters puled from mecha anime, manga, video games, and tokusatsu. Passion is the #1 requirement for playing a character! If you love them, that's what counts. Furthermore, SRTMOO offers a variety of ways to modify and alter the canon path of characters and stories! Interested in making queer subtext just text? Want to save a character you felt was done dirty? All are possible!

(Art credit @harleequeen.bsky.social) We also offer OCs! They add flavor and spice to the game, and are an easy first application - no one knows an original character better than their creator, after all!

(Art credits @feralknights and @harleequeen.bsky.social) Finally, we have an absolutely massive roster list, featuring many series that straight up couldn't be in an official Super Robot Wars - including live-action tokusatsu Ultraman!

If any of this interests you, considering visiting our wiki to learn more, or popping onto the MU as a guest to ask some questions! My DMs are also fully open for any questions. srtmoo.net/

[0aurelion-sol0]

While I won't be able to review the show or talk about it the same way as I did it's first season, the discourse around The Last Of Us Season 2 (+ the games) has been abysmal for a while on a number of topics and for it to continue 5 years after the second game has been out is irking me a lot.

First off, the "critics" about the looks of the actors and/or characters in the story:

Unless needed and told in the story, a character being handsome or beautiful is not a requirement for a good character, development of it or story in general, it's an aspect of it. An aspect that can be changed and will be different from characters to characters. One that is either here to convey the concept of the character, add some diversity to a universe and/or story and/or have the characters (at least the more important ones) be different and unique because people in real life are that way and it's better to discern the characters.

Whether it's Dina with her nose and skin tone, Abby because of her arms but her being tall or not conventionally attractive, Manny with his bun or whatever else y'all fixate upon is a non-issue because again, we are all different people that come in different shapes, colors and with different attributes that are all as valid in their existence. And showing that through either concept, themes or just diversity is valid.

Not every characters are or should be made to be sexually attractive to you or reinforce something about yourself. Sometimes they are just a tool for a story, you don't have to identify with them nor do you have to LIKE them. We'll get back to that later.

I find it repulsive that a character like Dina got criticized because she had a nose that was different from what we usually see on female characters when she's been modelled after a real human being. And let's not even get into the antisemitic aspect of it because we very much saw what a certain group of people did when their "favorite" chatacter got offed from the game...

Same thing for Abby whose only flaws that should be criticized should be the terrible actions she does throughout the story but no, we have to worry about her arms and muscles when woman with muscles exists and have existed for a long time but apparently, the fragility with which certain people move in their life has led to the conclusion she must be trans because of some stupid pro-right wing theory about trans people and women in general and how they should or shouldn't appear in real life. And even if Abby had been trans, who cares ? It wouldn't have changed anything about the story anyway, nor whatever your feelings about her would have been like unless you are transphobic but that's another thing alltogether.

And it's even more infuriating now that we have the TV show versions of these characters who are far more conventionally attractive & are already considered better characters or more digestible CLEARLY because of that aspect, whether that part of the audience & fanbase does consciously or not. No shade towards Isabela Merced or Kaitlyn Dever who are, so far, doing a wonderful job as their versions of these characters but to see that these characters were criticized for literally everything they did or said simply because they were not conventionally attractive or part of the type of characters that part of the audience & fanbase gravitates towards pisses me off.

This aspect of the appearance of characters being WAY TOO important for people is very clear when you hear the reactions that certains actors have gotten by being cast in the series. The most annoying one is Bella Ramsey who is not considered pretty enough or looking old enough to play Ellie. Again nothing about Ellie's character tells us she needs to be conventionally attractive and two, Ellie from the game & TV show are not the same characters so whether she looks old enough to play Ellie in Season 2 is completely nonsensical, especially since Bella is more accurate about what a 19 year old is supposed to look like than Ellie in the game. I'm not saying there can't be a drastic change between 14 to 19 years old or that people can't look older than they really are but the average teenager doesn't look THAT different as they are compared to in-game Ellie. TV Show Ellie is far more accurate in that aspect than in-game Ellie.

In-game Ellie's appearance was indeed to show the passage of time both physically and psycologically and show the evolution of Ellie as a character and who she was as a person in that moment, to show off a new engine and have a clear evolution from the first game for these characters so that we see what the game is capable of compared to the first one. The show doesn't need to do that and even if there was, Ashley Johnson still plays Ellie in Part II, she wasn't recast. And she chose Bella Ramsay herself, so I am trusting the actress who played Ellie for literally a decade over some right-wing chickenshit who wants a conventionally attractive young woman to play a character that doesn't need to be attractive because he needs his masculinity and sexuality reinforced everytime he sees a female character because his only view and connection he ever had with women is how much they can they turn him on and how will he be able to f*ck & dominate them in the most disgusting ways possible.

But the most appaling ones are the ones saying she "looks" autistic or r*t*r*d*d which apart from showing how stupid they really are and that they don't know what they are talking about, it's how bigoted their views about anything that is different compared to them are. Again, it's not a bad thing to be of any disorser and it wouldn't have changed anything about the story if it was. And even if it did, it's an adaptation for god's sake, you have the original game if you want the exact same story and characters the way they exactly are but we will get back to that soon. Stop being disrespectful to actors, characters and people that look different or not appealing to you and keep your mouth shut. Not everything is about you and your perception of the world and it's people.

Secondly, the constant critics about the HBO show's choices in it's adaptation of the story.

This is just getting tiring every time I see comments like: "They're not following the story of the games!" or "They cut this moment ?!" or "This isn't like the game!" because guess what, it's not supposed to be like the game!

I'm going to share something with you that's going to blow your mind, get ready, if you want to relive the same story all over again...

...you can go and replay game! Wow, how revolutionary!

The HBO show is an adaptation and as such, not just that it's bound to be different, it NEEDS to be different. If not, what's the point. Criticizing whether things needed to be changed or not, what should have been changed or if it worked is normal and should be done for any work of art.

But constantly complaining that it's not exactly like the game is another thing alltogether!

Certains aspects of the game and the story cannot translate well into another media and so you had to adapt, cut & modify so that it moves and feel better when watching it. And so far, to me at least, it's been able to do that rather successfully. Has it been able to replace how I feel about the game and it's quality ? No. But I can appreciate it for what it is and what it's trying to do. In fact, I find the show to be quite complementary to the game as it helps understand certains parts of the story better.

What you all lack is media literacy, first but also patience, (which is funny given everything that happened in Episode 6 of Season 2), that is needed for a story like The Last Of Us Part II which thrives on what is unsaid, the jumping in time and revelations. In constantly asking why certain things are not there the way they exactly are, you're missing the point of the show which is asking why it was done the way it was, why it was put there and what it does for the story & the characters. And also why certain things were removed or done differently.

Thirdly, could the Fireflies make a cure ? Yes! How are you sure ? Because I said so.

No but more seriously, between the creators, the game, the show + the characters themselves, how much more do you need to understand that YES a cure would have been possible ? I get it, you don't cure a fungus with a vaccine, the writers could have did further research on that but let's be honest...

...who the hell in 2013 knew that ?

Apart from medical expert, no one knew or cared until said medical experts brought it up but even they knew that this was a work of fiction when said possible vaccine would have been used against a version of a fungus that don't exist and would likely not even be capable to do what it does to humans in-game even after years of mutation. What happened to suspension of disbelief anyway ?

Ellie's very own existence is a proof that a cure is possible and Fireflies even pushed to the limit of their capacities have been shown to remain capable, so much so that they are regrouping themselves in present time in the story.

Jerry would have made a cure despite what everyone is saying. AND NO, HE WASN'T USING OTHER IMMUNE PEOPLE! He was working on people who got infected or infected themselves, if he was working on other immune people, he wouldn't be amazed at her existence and eager to use her to make a cure. They wouldn't have been working on monkeys and Joel wouldn't have felt the need to lie about that because it wouldn't have been a lie but it is because apart from Ellie, at least that we know of, NO OTHER IMMUNE PEOPLE EXIST.

God misunderstanding that artifact in the game and spreading false informations to keep a certain narrative afloat is so disingenuous.

If the Fireflies were not able to make a cure or the entire foundation of it was shady to begin with, than the entire weight of Joel's actions and choice at the end of the game goes completely away! It's what makes his decision so strong at the end, he sacrifices the whole world for her so that he can reexperience life again but also so that she can discover a life that isn't just survival & discover a purpose that isn't about her sacrificing herself because deep down, he doesn't believe the world should take away something like Ellie to get better especially after it took his daughter from him for similar reasons.

It's also what drives the entire plot of both the first game and second game, a good chunk of Joel and Ellie's relationship and how it degrades through Part II and is the main motivation of Ellie as a character. If it's not possible, much of the story is pointless.

The question is not whether or not a cure would have been possible, but whether one should be made given the current look of the world and it's people ? There are reasons to do it, people like Sam, Riley or Dina, places like Jackson but reasons not to do it because of people like David, Isaac &/or conflicts like the one we see in Seattle or because of groups like FEDRA. Would a cure even change anything anyway ? Sure, the world could rebuild itself but it would take a long time to fix it and given the horrors people have enacted upon each other, would it fix conflicts and tyranny ? Would it fix starvation and other issues related to survival ? The conflit between the WLF & The Seraphites shows us that it is highly unlikely it would have helped change anything about that situation. The problems of the world of The Last Of Us have existed way before the infected showed up, it's just the natural conclusion of all of it and if a cure is made without humanity changing. But places like Jackson show that it is possible, so maybe creating a cure is indeed worth it ?

These are the questions you should be asking, and we didn't even go through all the other questions that are left, not whether or not it was possible to make a cure because the hospital didn't look very good on the inside! Hospitals in war zones or impoverished areas were able to do quite a lot despite the lack of means to do certain things, that is if they're not being bombed but that's a whole other subject which we can't get into right now.

What I'm seeing are people that deep down are unable to cope with the fact they would actually sacrifice the whole world including innocent & good people for their own needs & goals and not go out heroically as so many of us would like to say and are trying to find every justification possible to explain why they would actually kill everyone in that hospital if they could. Instead of maybe acknowledging the fact that they are looking at this the wrong way.

And lastly, Joel's character during Part II and how for some he acts out of character during much of it. Again, I disagree.

I also don't agree that he went "soft", as in lost his cautiousness in his years during Jackson, to me it shows his character development from the first game where he has learned to trust other people again instead of shutting himself from almost everyone. It's something that is explored again in the 2nd game and even in the show, how much trust can you give someone in a world like this one ? Even your loved ones, when they lie to you or keep things to themselves ? Joel & Ellie, Ellie & Dina, Abby & Owen, etc...

When Joel saves Abby, there is no reason to think she's a hunter or after him, they are in the middle of a blizzard with hordes of infected all around and she's completely alone; she doesn't seem like a threat. It's also common for Jackson to attract people who travel around or are completely lost and it's common for people on patrol to find them as well. And they also TRADE with other people & communities, which Joel does with coffee.

Tommy & Joel also already say their name twice before saying it at the lodge, when they fight the infected & at the ski resort lookout, so she's already aware of their names, there's no need to hide. They help each other and she gets them to safety. And when they arrive at the lodge, none of Abby's group attack them right away and they even offer to help them with their horse.

The Fireflies have shown no sign of activities since Salt Lake City, Joel killed tons of them and the hospital was empty when he went there to find Ellie, there's no reason to think they are still after him or even Ellie for that matter.

And to finish, Joel is still cautious when they are at the lodge as he is the one that's really removed from everyone and keeps questioning them after Tommy asks how long they've been at the lodge, he places himself in the middle to avoid being cornered just in case and takes a moment before saying his own name again. He also says to Nora before all that they won't be staying for too long & leave when everything calms down outside, first, because they are need elsewhere and secondly, because it's clearly not safe to stay too long with strangers outnumbering you for a long time.

Abby & her group searching for them and finding them happened to be a coincidence. And Joel & Tommy happened to trust the wrong person this time, yet it showed the development of Joel since the first game.

Joel is not just a violent survival machine, he is a man with wants & needs which Jackson was able to give him before he died. Joel is a man who also loves music, wood, coffee and his family and that's who he is first before being the cold brute that so many people seem to love & identify with, not realising that's the wrong thing to uplift about Joel.

Jackson didn't kill him, Abby did but more importantly, his own actions as this cold heartless brute over the years that changed him into something that he wasn't to begin with or needed to be killed him. Because even if a cure wouldn't have changed anything, Jerry was no Marlene or other Fireflies soldier, he was just a doctor that wouldn't have been able to hurt Joel in any way, even with a scapel. Joel could have easily knocked him out but the violence & trauma that yes, was forced upon him for so many years of survival led him to do it that way. And that still wasn't right. Whatever justification we would like to find.

He said it himself: "I've been on both sides."

While I realise that on Tumblr, I won't really have that much pushback against what I say, this needed to be said given the amount of misinformation and bad faith criticism that have existed around everything The Last Of Us related since the second game has come out. You have the right not to like something &/or think that something is not good but if it's done the ways I've talked about above, even if it's not with The Last Of Us, you are in the wrong place to criticize whatever you want to criticize.

With that said, we only have one episode left before the 2nd season ends. And well, for those who know, the story still has a lot of punches to give us.

Pun intended.

[bvckbiter]

How do you think different Ta fans act based on who their favourite character is

i as well as other people have noticed that quite a number of alabaster fans tend to be creatives (myself included), probably because his story is so interesting lore-wise but his character is pretty much a blank slate so u can do whatever you want with him. who doesn't love a tragic angry morally grey magician character <333

ethan is a... hmmm i would say easy "mainstream" TA favorite in that he's not as morally straightforward as the heroes of the first series but he's also not as reprehensible as luke is. he's Villain Lite i fear. so there are a lot of people who like him but typically not to the degree that is almost required for alabaster enjoyers, and as more of a condiment to the entree that is the main cast if that makes sense... ethan fans definitely like edgy gay boys tho LMFAO

silena's fans are usually gay bitches and massive doomed yuri enjoyers ofc. she's even more Villain Lite than ethan due to the common framing of her reasons for spying (and eventual death) as being luke's fault, so i feel like. silena fans arent that much of TA fans? rather they're fans of her as her own character, or of ruegard as a ship

chris i have no idea honestly im so sorry i barely see any people who like chris as CHRIS ALONE and INTENSELY SO ... if u get what i mean 😭😭😭 if chris nation exists out there somewhere im so sawry u guys must be starving...

luke. uh, scratches head. honestly the spread of luke fans is too diabolically diverse for me to really pin down because they truly cover the whole spectrum of 'luke is satan incarnate of the pjoverse and he's pure evil and everything is his fault and every action he took is calculated to manipulate' and 'luke did nothing wrong uwu baby boy' not to mention the new ... coughs. material brought by people who are thirsty for charlie. so idk whats going on over there but god bless u all. i will say though, pre-pjotv some of the best meta was made by luke castellan lovers <3

overall, the ta corner of the fandom has been mostly very chill and very enjoyable since it pokes at parts of canon that i dont think have been explored by most of the fandom very much yipeee

[183degreesbelowzero]

For those who like FPS, multiplayer games and spy shenaniganeries in general: Deceive Inc. is now on sale!

(Conversion: the base game (in the middle) is roughly 3-4 USD. Don't take my word for it though, it might be a different price in your area, But it's still really cheap.)

What is Deceive Inc. and how is it played?

Deceive Inc. is an extraction FPS where you're tasked with going into an NPC-populated area to extract a briefcase by blending into the NPCs, all without getting yourself sussed out and gunned down by other players.

To do so, you have a Cover, and have to obtain Intel. You get your Intel from around the map and change your Cover to enter higher-security rooms to get your 1. Field Upgrades (perks), 2. Keycards (which will let you into doors for free) and most importantly 3. disable the Security Terminals to the Vault.

Once the Vault is open, you get in, get the briefcase, and get to the Extraction Point(s) safely, or at least alive. Keep in mind: there are still other agents who want the briefcase, and in most cases, that requires you to be dead.

Sounds fun? Get the game!

2. Okay, but why?

It's fun!

The community on the official Discord server is very friendly, especially towards new players. There are custom games organised every so often, and I've personally gotten to know a bunch of friends through it.

The game itself and its mechanics are fairly simple once you get through the tutorial (which will explain it all in better detail), but the mind games people play and the Shenanigans are the main attraction. There are a couple specific agents that are very good at this: for one, Madame Xiu. Her main skill is teleporting to other NPCs (and there's a delightfully evil laugh as she does that), which can get you out of fights, reposition, OR get you into one if you so happen to teleport into another player. Here she is:

She's also the tallest character in-game, NPCs included. I love her.

And two, we have Larcin, who is a certified Rat Bastard™️and whose main gimmick is 1. stealing items from other players and 2. turning invisible. You can imagine the chaos that comes about. Here he is:

He's French, but don't let that stop you from the fun.

Also: the music. This is one (or four; it's a medley) of the many bangers in game, have a listen:

IMO it's worth it just for the music. The graphics don't let up too. As for its diversity, more than half the playable cast is canonically queer half the cast is Not White, and half are women.

3. But I'm bad at FPS!

Don't worry, I'm terrible too the game offers a Beginner Protection Mode to players below level 50, which pairs you with other players below level 50 and some bots. Past that level, you can have private custom lobbies that you fill with bots, or invite your friends to play with you too. There's also Training mode, where you can test your build against a bot that can be revived over and over again indefinitely. But winning is only a tenth of the fun: most of the game is based around the spying.

4. Does it have co-op?

Yep! There are three modes: solos, duos and trios. In solos, you're on your own: any spy you see is an enemy. In duos and trios, you pair up with another (or two other) friend(s) to extract. Teams means more shenanigans, but also more fighting (you can be revived by your teammate though, so this isn't much of an issue), so be on your toes. If you're looking for a co-op game that isn't a platformer, this is it!

5. Microtransactions? 🤨

There are two currencies in the game: Credits and Bonds. Nominally, Credits are the free currency (you earn them just by playing games, for 50-150 per game depending on performance) and Bonds are the premium currency you can pay IRL money for. However, you can also pick up Bonds for free in the game (there are just piles of Bonds lying around in maps), and you can also earn Bonds by levelling up your characters (doesn't take anything more than time and effort). Past the first 10 levels, every level you gain on a character gives you some free Bonds.

All Bonds do is unlock additional cosmetics. The characters are all unlockable through Credits, and you get four free characters right off the bat (Larcin above is one of them). There is absolutely no p2w mechanic (every win is pure skill and luck), and once you purchase the Season Passes, they are available for forever, indefinitely. The devs have made DI very friendly to players in this regard. Of course, you can always buy Bonds (and support the game!) if you're impatient.

In conclusion: get Deceive Inc. and get deceivin'!

Bonus: have a Vigil. I know you love Vigil.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 12.4k.

Reading Time: 50 min.

Warnings: begging, cock warming, creampie, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, marking, mentions of masturbation, mild pain kink, mild salirophilia, moderately underprepared penetration (but no pain), multiple scenes, nipple play, penetrative sex, praise kink, so much whimpering omfg, unprotected sex (cover the bone to slide it home, bro), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadylady @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

One moment you were in the peace and tranquility of the Ministry’s library, the next you were in the Ministry’s personal plane getting ready to land in Heathrow Airport, with Cardinal Copia by your side. The flight from Rome to London was wonderfully short, ticking in at just two and a half hours long. Plenty of time for you to go over the notes you made at school on Hebrew, more specifically the ancient Hebrew that you required in order to translate Abrahamic texts to Ministry-standard levels.

Ancient Hebrew was much more difficult for you to learn, given that it was an entirely different alphabet to the one you were used to. The script used during ancient times, particularly during the First Temple period, had a more pictographic nature, not entirely unlike Ancient Egyptian. During the 1st century CE, the Hebrew language was undergoing a significant transformation and coexisted with other languages in the region. Biblical Hebrew was more akin to modern day Hebrew which allowed you some crossovers in your day-to-day studies, but it was still very different in most aspects.

The Ministry, as it was open to everyone from all walks of life, held so much diversity between its unhallowed walls, it was beautiful. There were languages spoken from all over the world, but in order to unify everyone and make communication easier, Italian was the main language, followed by Latin, then English, then other denominations. The Church revelled in the chaos created by such a diverse cast of characters - and for a long time allowed everyone to just play the conversation by ear. In essence, you’d watch someone open their mouth and pray to Lucifer that they were about to speak in a language that you understood. It wasn’t until Mama Ardens II reigned in the late 15th Century that she introduced the official language of Italian. This was challenged by some members of the clergy as it was “too Catholic”, but there was a reason her name was Ardens and she shut the clergy up pretty quickly.

During the flight, you could feel the weight of the Cardinal’s eyes upon you, burning through you like Hellfire upon the skin of the worst sinners. The majority of the time, you’d catch him looking at your papers, as if he was refamiliarising himself with Ancient Hebrew too. But there was the odd occasion when your eyes locked with his, and he panicked and turned away, pretending as though he was looking at something else behind you. The act itself made you so, very aware of your appearance. What could he possibly be staring at? And why? You found yourself wiping something from your face just to be sure you didn’t have anything on it.

“Scusi, Sorella.” The Cardinal said, interrupting your studying with a gloved tap to your shoulder. You looked at him, the haze of the ancient world fading with each passing second. “This is Hebrew, sì?”

You stared at him blankly for a second before answering. “Yes, Your Dark Eminence.”

He nodded. “It looks like Ancient Phoenician.”

“You know Ancient Phoenician?”

“A little. I went through a phase in my teens where I wanted to be different. Everyone else knew Latin and Greek, I wanted Latin and Phoenician.”

You laughed. “I think everyone goes through that phase when they’re a teen.”

“Probably. The alphabets are the same, no?”

“No, actually. They’re very similar, but they’re not copies of one another. What modern historians refer to as the “Paleo-Hebrew” alphabet was used by some of Abraham’s children. The Phoenician alphabet and the Paleo-Hebrew alphabet were pretty much the same alphabet, despite possible tiny differences in the letterforms, but every language spoken by the Canaanites shared this alphabet. Even the Arameans made use of it. It wasn’t invented by the Phoenicians or even by Abraham’s children. Most likely it was a group of early, unnamed Canaanites that we’ve no evidence for… yet.”

“Does it function the same way?”

“I don’t know enough about Ancient Phoenician to tell you either way, but,” you picked up your sheet of paper that helped translate the Hebrew to the Latin alphabet and handed it to the Cardinal, “you’re more than welcome to figure that out for yourself.”

He perused the sheet in front of him for a short while, getting to grips with the look of it. Every now and then, little hums of understanding would spill involuntarily from his lips, each one making your heart soar with adoration.

The world’s impressions of the Cardinal often exaggerated his behaviour. He demonstrated a sweetness that spoke to his true nature, far from the menacing figure many had imagined.

The Cardinal was an introverted man who took comfort in his own company, just like you. Even though he was capable of being an ambiverted position when called for, it was obvious that he valued solitude over social interactions. It felt as though he was choosing to be alone, and it went beyond simple preference to suggest a deeper, complex side to his nature.

The truth, sadly, appeared to be a little grimmer. Sister Aisha, who was known for her direct and sometimes sarcastic comments, did not hold back when she called the Cardinal “a creepy old man.” And made no attempts to hide any contempt she held for him, but she was one of many who felt exactly the same way.

The daily peeks into his life revealed an odd habit: a Ghoul snatching his meals from the kitchens and slipping them into his office. His life of isolation not only shielded him from the Ministry’s scrutiny but also added to the mysterious atmosphere that enveloped him.

People often treated their future leader with a certain amount of condescension, either not realising his potential or brushing it off completely. They were unable to see his character’s depth and his hidden strength. It was as if they only saw the surface—a man who didn’t fit the Ministry’s stereotypical image of power.

You would see the eye rolling, the dismissive gestures, and the sporadic scoffs aimed at him. The insensitive treatment looked to be the result of ignorance, an inability to realise the importance hidden behind his modest demeanour. The Cardinal had to deal with the disdainful attitudes of those around him in his earlier days, while others in similar positions might have commanded immediate respect.

But there was something about him which you saw that others missed. You had a gut feeling that there was more to this modest person than first appeared. Feeling sympathy for the Cardinal and believing he deserved better than the casual remarks and sidelong looks, you watched the irritating treatment take place.

The Ministry had no idea that hiding beneath that seemingly ordinary man was the potential for a strong leader. The future Cardinal Copia would eventually triumph over the criticism and unpleasant treatment, demonstrating that genuine strength frequently hides in a person’s depths, ready to be revealed when the time was right.

And a different Cardinal showed up in those moments when he wasn’t burdened by the duties of leadership and he allowed himself to converse. His kindness came through; his soft-spoken manner revealed the fragility beneath the surface of power. It became clear that the Cardinal was a complicated person who was oversimplified in the eyes of the world to be a stoic, unapproachable figure.

Being in the background gave you the opportunity to observe the Church’s internal drama, the shenanigans, and the power struggles without taking an active part in them. It was a position of quiet strength, where your biggest advantage became your understanding and awareness of the inner workings of the Ministry.

The Cardinal’s lack of notice meant freedom from unnecessary attention. You could spend your time reading the ancient books, exploring the archaic library, and performing your tasks without having to deal with the spotlight. The shadows offered a certain safety, a place where you could pursue your curiosity without being distracted by people.

In quieter moments, among the centuries-old books and dimly lit hallways of the Ministry, there was a faint longing, a yearning for a relationship that went beyond the pages of forbidden knowledge. There were times when you wished the Cardinal would give you that elusive, uneven smile, even though you cherished the safety of anonymity and the cover of darkness.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you dreamed that the Cardinal would acknowledge you in a way that went beyond the standard Ministry exchanges. You yearned for some small act that displayed a great deal in the calm language of desire, something that would bring back memories of old-fashioned chivalry.

You imagined a moment when the Cardinal, freed from the restraints of rank, would hold your hand with a tenderness suiting the moment. You’d read about such actions in the romance books that lined the library’s shelves: a gentleman’s kiss upon a lady’s hand, as a sign of affection and a modest declaration of a relationship that went beyond the everyday.

However, these moments remained unattainable since the intricate web of the Cardinal’s ascent to importance and the manipulations of the Ministry. The reality of your job as an archivist at the Ministry’s library clashed regularly with the dreams that danced in the corners of your mind. Your dreams were tucked between the shelves like a bookmark between book pages.

It was enough to send previous incarnations of yourself into a near-coma of shock to learn that the Cardinal was not only aware of your existence but actively seeking your aid for a mission to London. A storm of emotions mixed disbelief and excitement at the thought that your unnoticed presence had attracted the attention of the Church’s leader. It seemed like a strange transition from being a quiet observer to a major role in a clandestine mission—a story arc that went against the expectations of the once-quiet guardian.

As the jet streaked through the sky, carrying you and the Cardinal into to the fascinating depths of London, you found yourself suddenly drawn away from your usual scholarly pursuits. Rather than immersing yourself in the ancient Hebrew texts that waited for you in the city, you were chatting with the Cardinal informally, like you were the closest, lifelong friends that could ever be.

You were sitting side by side in the cramped plane, and you pulled out a notebook with Hebrew idioms and symbols in it. The aircraft’s steady hum provided a unique setting for this unusual classroom, where the Cardinal—who wasn’t exactly famed for his mysterious charm—became a passionate learner.

You patiently explained the complexities of the old Hebrew language to the Cardinal. As you clarified their meanings and intricacies, the characters—each bearing a history and resonance from millennia ago—took on new life. With a mixture of passion and nervousness the Cardinal tried to imitate the characters in his trademark clumsy charm. That was to say, he got things wrong… a lot.

The unexpected language lesson had led to a moment of shared laughter, a welcome respite from the weight of ancient texts and scholarly pursuits. After one particularly amusing mistake, the laughter gradually subsided, giving way to a comfortable silence. In that quietude, an unspoken connection lingered in the air.

As you glanced over your notes, the Cardinal’s gaze shifted, and when you looked up, you found his eyes fixed upon you. The atmosphere seemed to shift, charged with a subtle energy that transcended the boundaries of mere camaraderie. His gaze, softer and more contemplative than before, held an unspoken sentiment that eluded easy definition.

His eyes traced the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness, and there was a momentary pause, as if time itself had hesitated to acknowledge the shift in dynamics. A gentle intensity lingered in the air, and his gaze descended to your lips with a soft, unspoken longing.

Unaware of the subtle shift in the Cardinal’s demeanour, you continued to meet his eyes with an easygoing smile. The shared laughter had forged a connection, and the silence that followed seemed to amplify the unspoken nuances lingering between you.

For the Cardinal, the moment held a depth of emotion that he struggled to articulate. His eyes conveyed a silent contemplation, and in that fleeting silence, there was a desire—subtle, yet palpable. The notion of a kiss hovered in the unspoken spaces between you, a sentiment that had yet to find expression in words.

As the plane continued its journey toward London, the Cardinal’s gaze remained soft, a reflection of the newfound connection forged in the unexpected intimacy of the language lesson. Little did you know that this unspoken exchange would linger as a subtle undercurrent, shaping the course of the journey that awaited you in the heart of the ancient city.

The announcement of the impending landing interrupted the quiet exchange between you and the Cardinal. With a shared understanding, and an awkward clearing of the Cardinal’s throat, you both began the task of clearing away the notes, neatly organizing the scattered papers that documented your linguistic exploration. The air hostess moved through the cabin, her voice announcing the approaching descent and the estimated time until landing.

As the plane touched down in London, the anticipation of the journey ahead resonated in the air. Your bags, along with the majority of the Cardinal’s Ghouls—Swiss, Aurora, Cirrus, and Phantom, as you noted—were efficiently handled and transported to the hotel. The remaining Ghouls accompanied you and the Cardinal, ready to delve into the mysteries held within the Crimson Archives.

Exiting the airport, the chill of the London air greeted you, a stark contrast to the climate you had left behind. The Ghouls maintained an eerie silence as they efficiently guided you and the Cardinal toward the awaiting vehicle. The journey to the Crimson Archives unfolded, the city’s landmarks passing by in a blur of history and modernity.

The Crimson Archives, a repository of knowledge and secrets, awaited your exploration. The Cardinal, his curiosity undiminished, glanced toward you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. The Ghouls, ever vigilant, maintained a discreet presence, their loyalty to the Cardinal evident in every step.

As you approached the entrance, the imposing facade of the archives loomed overhead, a testament to the weight of the knowledge contained within its walls. The building itself was designed in the typical Edwardian Baroque fashion, a classic from the 1600s that had made its way all across Europe to decorate the streets of the well-to-do, adding a sense of grandeur. The white exterior was profanely white, as though someone was out with a toothbrush every single day, cleaning the brickwork and repainting it to hide any and all blemishes.

The monochromatic exterior was interrupted only by the double-doored entrance, a vivid splash of red staining the wood. The crimson hue, reminiscent of dried blood, served as a stark reminder that beyond those doors lay the repository of forbidden knowledge—the Crimson Archives.

As you approached the entrance, the weight of anticipation hung in the air. The Ghouls, their presence silent and imposing, flanked you and the Cardinal, their loyalty a reassuring presence. The red doors creaked open, inviting you to step into the enigmatic world that awaited beyond.

Crossing the threshold, you entered a realm where time seemed to stand still. The interior, bathed in a muted light that filtered through stained glass windows, exuded an air of reverence. The scent of ancient parchment and weathered leather permeated the air, as if the very essence of knowledge clung to the surroundings.

Rows of towering bookshelves lined the expansive space, each shelf bearing the weight of countless tomes. Dust motes danced in the filtered sunlight, adding a touch of magic to the ambiance. The hallowed halls echoed with the whispers of the past, inviting you to unravel the secrets concealed within the carefully preserved volumes.

As you and the Cardinal ventured deeper into the Crimson Archives, the architectural beauty and the solemnity of the surroundings intensified. The knowledge held within these walls spanned centuries, and the building itself stood as a testament to the reverence bestowed upon the pursuit of wisdom.

Every step further into the archives felt like a journey through time, a pilgrimage into the mysteries that lay dormant, waiting to be unearthed. The building, with its timeless design and meticulous preservation, stood as a guardian of the secrets you sought, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of history that had left its mark on every page within.

The interior of the Crimson Archives continued the theme of elegant austerity with a predominantly monochromatic palette. An airy atmosphere that encircled the room in a timeless hug, was created by the towering bookshelves’ shadows dancing across the white walls.

The black accents, whether in the form of wrought-iron railings or the dark frames of portraits lining the walls, added a touch of sophistication to the otherwise pristine interior. The interplay of light and dark accentuated the architectural details, casting a mysterious allure that beckoned those who dared to explore further.

Crimson red, the color that lent the archives its name, punctuated the surroundings like droplets of blood against a canvas of parchment. The rich hue adorned draperies that framed arched windows, lending a warm contrast to the cool tones dominating the space. Plush rugs underfoot absorbed the echo of footsteps, muffling sound and enhancing the sense of reverence.

Wooden furnishings, stained with a reddish tint, added to the overall warmth of the archives. The bookshelves, meticulously organized and towering towards the ceiling, featured rich, dark wood that cradled the weight of centuries-old knowledge. Each shelf, each tome, seemed to radiate history, promising a journey through time with every page turned.

The two of you stood before the unattended front desk, the absence of any library staff adding an extra layer of mystery to the already cryptic atmosphere. The desk, pristine and uncluttered, awaited the presence of a librarian or archivist to assist in navigating the vast sea of knowledge housed within the Crimson Archives.

All was vacant save for the single silver bell that guarded the area. Gleaming like a beacon in the poorly lit surroundings, its smooth surface reflected the surrounding light. Beside it was a plain note with a clear instruction in exquisite script, “Ring for assistance.”

“What kind of cult have we walked into?” You asked, taking in your surroundings.

The Cardinal noticed your unease, and rested his hand on your shoulder. “This sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke, no? Two Satanists walk into a cult’s archives…”

You chuckled, feeling a little calmer. As you reached for the bell, a faint sense of anticipation hung in the air. The Cardinal observed with a mix of curiosity and amusement, perhaps intrigued by the prospect of unraveling the secrets within the hallowed halls of the Crimson Archives. With a gentle tap of your finger against the silver surface, a melodious chime echoed through the silence, resonating with the reverence of ages past.

The sound lingered for a moment before dissipating into the air, leaving a quiet expectancy in its wake. The hushed whispers of pages turning and the distant creak of aging wood filled the void, creating an ambiance that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the written word.

Eventually, a Lord Worthington waddled forward, his ample belly preceding him. He was indeed bald, with a shiny forehead that reflected the overhead lights. His round face was flushed, and beads of perspiration adorned his bald pate. Despite his portly appearance, there was an air of joviality about him. He sported a finely groomed, gray mustache that curled at the ends, giving him a somewhat eccentric air. Lord Worthington was the founder of the Crimson Archives - essentially a personal collection of ancient artifacts and texts belonging to a man with too much money in his bank account.

“Your Dark Eminence!” he exclaimed, extending a plump hand towards the Cardinal. His fingers were adorned with several ornate rings, and he wore a cream-colored waistcoat that strained against the girth of his belly. Each word he spoke seemed to be accompanied by a cough, as if his excitement and his respiratory system were engaged in a perpetual tug-of-war. Lord Worthington’s eyes twinkled with a mix of reverence and genuine enthusiasm as he quickly shook the Cardinal’s hand, hard enough to shake his entire body. “It’s an absolute pleasure to have you here at the Crimson Archives, sir! What a delightful encounter. I suppose you’re here for that Eden book, yes?”

“Sì. If you could take us to it, that would be helpful.”

Lord Worthington beamed, his excitement undeterred by the Cardinal’s succinct response. “Of course, Your Dark Eminence! Right this way!”

He led you and Cardinal Copia, and by extension, the Ghouls, through the labyrinthine corridors of the Crimson Archives. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper, and the occasional cough from Lord Worthington punctuated the quiet rustle of unseen activity. You couldn’t help but marvel at the vastness of the collection and the meticulously organized shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity.

After what felt like a journey through time itself with the Lord talking to you both about the history of the archives, Lord Worthington stopped before a particularly ornate set of double doors. The crimson theme persisted here, with intricate patterns etched into the dark wood. He produced a set of antique keys, each one adorned with a different emblem, and selected the appropriate one to unlock the doors.

“Here we are, Your Dark Eminence, Sister,” he announced, ushering you into a room that seemed plucked from a forgotten era. The smell of aged parchment was more pronounced here, and the room was illuminated by the warm glow of antique chandeliers. Ornate bookshelves lined the walls, each one crammed with dusty tomes that bore the weight of centuries.

“In this chamber, we keep some of our most prized possessions. May I present to you, Eden’s Veiled Chronicles,” Lord Worthington gestured towards a display case in the center of the room. Inside, under the protective gaze of glass, rested an ancient manuscript bound in cracked leather and adorned with faded symbols.

The Cardinal’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “May we…?” he began, gesturing towards the display case.

“Of course, Your Eminence! Feel free to examine it as closely as you’d like. It’s an honor to have you here,” Lord Worthington responded, his voice filled with genuine reverence.

As you delicately extracted the Chronicles from its protective casing, a sense of reverence settled in the air. The ancient manuscript, veiled in the passage of time, revealed itself in all its glory.

The cover, made of cracked leather with an otherworldly patina, cradled the secrets within. Faded symbols, once vibrant, adorned the surface, telling a story of eras long past. The leather, though aged, retained a certain suppleness, a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone age.

Upon opening the cover, the parchment pages unfolded like the petals of a timeworn flower. The script, a dance of ink on the vellum, told the tale of Eden’s secrets. The language was fluid, an intricate dance of ancient Hebrew, and the illustrations, though faded, spoke of a world unseen.

The Chronicles bore the marks of countless hands that had touched its pages over the centuries. Annotations in different hands adorned the margins, an ongoing conversation across the ages. Fragments of commentary in Latin, Aramaic, and even Phoenician wove together a tapestry of understanding and interpretation.

The illustrations, a blend of artistic expression and symbolic representation, depicted scenes from the Garden of Eden not commonly known. Angels, serpents, and enigmatic figures danced across the pages, each stroke of ink telling a story lost to common narratives.

As you turned the pages with the utmost care, the scent of ancient wisdom, a mixture of parchment and the faintest whisper of long-gone eras, wafted through the air. The Chronicles seemed to exhale the secrets it held, secrets waiting to be unveiled to those who sought knowledge beyond the veil of conventional understanding.

The Cardinal leaned in, his eyes tracing the ancient words and symbols with a mixture of awe and curiosity. In order to get as close as possible, you felt his hand on the small of your back, then his fingertips dancing towards your waist, pulling you closer to him. Ordinarily, this would infuriate you, but as it was the Cardinal’s hand clutching onto your body, you found your cheeks flushing. Lord Worthington watched, his coughs momentarily silenced in the presence of such historical significance.

“It’s extraordinary.” The Cardinal said, enthralled by its enigmatic histories that he was unable to decipher.

“It’s so well preserved, Your Dark Eminence,” you told him, equally magnitised, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“How long do you think it would take you to translate it?”

“I couldn’t say - maybe a few months. But I’m so excited to get started. Look here,” you pointed to a passage that you were the only one able to understand, “it’s the story of Lilith and how she fell from Yhwh’s graces!”

“Straordinario! What’s the story?”

“Well, it starts how we’re used to reading it: created from Adam’s rib, refused to be subservient, was kicked out of Eden. But we never truly learned what happened to Her afterwards. There’s something in here about the Dark One finding Her, reviving Her with water, and taking Her to Hell with Him - but I’ll need my notes to understand the specifics. It sounds more like a love story than anything else. I’m so excited.”

You finally looked up at the Cardinal, whose eyes were fixated on your face again. His pupils were dilated significantly, as he stared at your face - eyes lingering a little to long on your lips. His hand, which was still around your waist, had tightened its grip and subconsciously pulled you closer to him. You could feel his rapid heartbeat through his cassock, feel the heat of his nervousness emanating from him like a radiator. You felt lured to lean in closer, to feel his warm breath on his cheek, to taste his lips that no doubt still tasted like the coffee he drank earlier. Your eyes were searching in his for something, anything - maybe even a bit of confidence to do what you’d been longing to do the moment you saw him. You did. You allowed your head to lean in just a tad. You were so close to him.

His breath.

His hand.

His -

A cough brought you out of whatever spell the Cardinal had put you under, and you both backed away from each other as quickly as you could. The Cardinal’s eyes were shifty and nervous, while your lips were caught between your teeth in disbelief. That was the closest you’d ever been to him, and the pull of something more was so unbearable it almost clouded your judgment.

You were about to kiss your boss’ boss’ boss, in an archive that didn’t belong to you, holding a 1500-year-old text about the creators of your faith. Your cheeks filled with embarrassment at the thought of Lord Worthington watching this happen right in front of him, and being the one to wheeze his way into breaking up the spectacle.

Naturally, a man who held a lot of money wouldn’t let something so valuable go out of the kindness of his heart. The British Aristocracy had no idea what kindness even meant - everything they did was for the good of their bank account. The Chronicles belonged in the Ministry and the Ministry’s archives. It was an important piece of religious history that needed to be with its siblings and on display for everyone to see, not just the obscenely rich. It took a lot of negotiating to get Lord Worthington to agree to a price that didn’t absolutely bankrupt the Church, with a little extra intimidation provided by Mountain in order to sweeten the deal. But, this important piece of history now belonged to the Ministry, the acquisition was finalised, and the next day you’d both be returning back to Rome.

The hotel, an opulent sanctuary nestled in the heart of London, exuded an air of grandeur that resonated with the city’s rich history. As you and the Cardinal entered the lavish establishment, the grand foyer unfolded before you in a symphony of elegance.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow that danced upon the intricately patterned carpets below. The walls adorned with historical tapestries whispered tales of the past, and the subdued lighting added a touch of mystique to the atmosphere.

The concierge, clad in a tailored uniform, greeted you with a courteous smile before he led the way through ornate corridors adorned with classical artwork, creating an ambiance that blended the contemporary with the timeless. You marveled at the seamless fusion of luxury and tradition, a setting befitting the dignitaries and scholars who sought refuge within its walls.

In the quiet solitude of your room, you took a moment to marvel at the view from the window. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a testament to London’s vibrant energy. The bed, adorned with plush linens, promised a night of restful repose.

You took off your veil, rolled up your habit’s sleeves, and combed your hair back from your face. Lying on the polished desk like a quiet oracle waiting to reveal its secrets was the text, a relic of antiquated wisdom, persuading you to get straight to work. Bathed in the soft light of well-placed lamps, the room filled you with the anticipation of discovery.

You didn’t realise that time had passed you by in all the hours you spent hunched over your desk. You only noticed it was dark outside when a gentle knock at the door pulled you out of your work, and you’d already translated the first two chapters. You stood and opened the door to reveal the Cardinal standing there, awkward as ever, holding a plastic bag in his gloved hands. “Ah, Sorella!” He greeted. He was about to say something when he saw your appearance. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he felt his mouth go dry. There was something so intoxicating about your dishevelled appearance and sleepy, work-tired eyes, he found it difficult to string even the simplest of sentences together. “Y-you had disappeared for a few hours, I assumed you had begun working on the text, sì?”

“Oh, yes, Your Dark Eminence. Sorry, I lost track of time.”

The Cardinal smiled. “I thought you might. And, call me Copia, please. Only if you want to, of course. The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But I would prefer you to call me Copia.”

“Copia.” You said softly, feeling the name on the tip of your tongue and getting used to it. You opened the door. “Please, come in.”

“Ah, sì, grazie. I have brought, uh, Chinese food. I thought you might be hungry. I brought some for myself, too. I was, uh - I was hoping to join you. But, i-if you don’t want me to then I’ll get my stuff and go - nessun problema.”

“No, I’d like that… you to join me, I mean.”

Copia smiled and let out a soft and breathy laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You said, copying everything he just did without realising. For some reason, you felt nervous at this exchange. Your heart was light yet pulsating quickly in your chest as you set up the coffee table with the food.

“After dinner,” Copia began, “I was hoping to see what you’d completed so far. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Your Dark… Copia.”

Copia laughed at the way you corrected yourself.

Once the table was set up for dinner, the two of you began to tuck in on the feast. You didn’t realise until the first bite just how hungry you actually were.

The warmth of the Chinese food filled the room, accompanied by the quiet clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The atmosphere shifted from scholarly concentration to a more casual friendly conversation as you and Copia shared the simple pleasure of a shared meal. The fragrant aroma of the dishes mingled with the heady scent of ancient texts, creating an eclectic symphony that defined this unique moment in time.

Copia, despite his position as a Cardinal and leader of the dark congregation, displayed an endearing awkwardness. His genuine attempts at conversation and the occasional nervous laughter drew a smile from you, making the evening feel remarkably relaxed. It was a side of him that few were privileged to witness, and you found yourself appreciating the authenticity beneath the ceremonial robes.

As you both enjoyed the meal, conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of food and sips of tea. Copia’s inquiries about your progress with the translation prompted you to share the revelations from the Chronicles. The text, a silent witness to millennia, now whispered its secrets to those willing to listen.

After dinner, you guided Copia to the desk where your translation work awaited. The dim light cast a gentle glow on the pages, and as you began to explain the nuances of the ancient script, Copia listened with an attentiveness that transcended his usual awkwardness. His eyes, normally obscured by the dark recesses of Cardinal makeup, displayed a genuine curiosity that mirrored your own.

The Cardinal’s presence brought a new dimension to the room, and the collaborative effort to uncover the mysteries of the Chronicles continued. Together, you and Copia navigated the labyrinthine passages of ancient knowledge, forging a connection that transcended the formalities of your respective roles within the Ministry.

Copia leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the carefully translated pages of Eden’s Veiled Chronicles. His expression shifted from curiosity to genuine admiration as he perused your meticulous work. The dim light accentuated the lines on his face, adding a touch of vulnerability to the Cardinal’s usual composed demeanour.

“Sorella, this is exceptional,” he exclaimed, his voice a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Your dedication to this translation is truly commendable. It’s not an easy task, and yet you’ve navigated the intricacies of the text with such finesse.”

A warmth spread through you, a mix of pride and the satisfaction of receiving acknowledgment from someone whose opinion carried weight within the Ministry. Copia’s genuine compliments were like rays of light breaking through the shadows of the ancient library.

“I… thank you, Copia,” you replied, a hint of bashfulness in your voice. “I’m just doing my part.”

He nodded, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “You’re more than just ‘doing your part.’ You’re preserving knowledge, bringing to light the hidden narratives of our beliefs. This text could hold secrets that reshape our understanding of our faith.”

The compliment, spoken with such earnestness, made you appreciate the significance of your work even more. The connection between you and Copia deepened, forged by a shared reverence for the knowledge contained within the Chronicles.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, a charged atmosphere swirling around you and Copia. His eyes, a captivating blend of intensity and vulnerability, met yours with an unspoken question. The uncharted territory of desire loomed between you, and the words hung in the air like a forbidden incantation.

“Sorella,” Copia began, his voice a soft murmur, “I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? If not, that’s okay, I’ll understand.”

Your heart fluttered, caught between the pulse of curiosity and the gravity of the moment. A gentle nod from you granted permission for a connection that transcended the scholarly pursuit of knowledge. Copia approached slowly, bridging the gap with a careful reverence.

His gloved hand brushed against your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned forward, and the warmth of his presence surrounded you, capturing the silent anticipation of the room. The kiss, tender yet laden with unspoken emotions, sealed a connection that reached beyond the confines of the Crimson Archives.

Time seemed to stand still as you shared that stolen moment, the world outside the hotel room fading away. Copia’s kiss held a delicate balance of longing and restraint, a testament to the complexity of emotions that bound you together. The quiet intimacy unfolded, painting a tapestry of shared desire and the unspoken connection that had blossomed amidst the ancient texts.

As the kiss lingered, a myriad of emotions played out in the silent spaces between breaths. It was a dance of vulnerability and acceptance, the uncharted territory explored with a shared understanding. When the moment finally released its hold, a soft whimper escaped Copia’s lips.

He tried to pull away for a moment, but you didn’t want to. Your hands pulled at his cassock pulling him impossibly closer, refusing to let him disappear too soon. A desperation filled you, a need that had been bubbling under the surface for years and years until it had spilled over between the walls of a beautiful, London hotel room. Copia’s whimper elicited your own, which in turn, did something to him that he hadn’t felt in years, something he thought he’d never feel again.

His own gloved hands tugged at your waist as his tongue slid into your mouth, welcoming him willingly. Warmth pooled in between your legs when he pushed you against the edge of the desk and trapped you between his plush body and the wood. You could feel him growing hard beneath his robes, his centre now flush with yours and rocking against you slightly. He didn’t realise what he was doing until he was mid thrust, and he pulled back from you as though you’d electrocuted him. “Sorella,” his voice was breathless and low, almost growly, “you have to tell me you don’t want this now. Otherwise I won’t stop until I’ve had you.”

The black of his top lips had been completely smudged off, originally from the grease of the Chinese food, but finished by the friction against your lips. His cheeks were flushed purely pink from the embarrassment of his desperation for you, but also from sheer want of your body against his.

“Please don’t stop.” Your voice matched his, except for the little whimper that punctuated the end of the sentence.

Immediately, he attached his lips to yours, a little rougher than before but no less enjoyable. You wrapped your arms around him like a koala clinging to a tree, eyes closing and whimpering at the feeling of Copia’s clothed cock grinding against your sensitive clit. You gripped onto him stiffly, hair standing on end as you felt his lips travel down to the corner of your mouth, then land on your neck and began to lick and kiss at the sensitive spot there.

Copia’s mind forced him to move, despite all the blood being rushed down south and making it difficult to think. He removed his right glove, and dipped his now bare hand under the skirt of your habit. Naked fingertips stroked against a naked thigh, and travelled all the way up to your panties, now soaked with your need for Copia. Those fingers hooked around the gusset of your panties and pulled them to the side, before running along your folds and gathering up your slick. You were dripping for him. So wet you coated his fingers as if he’d just put his fingers into a lake. He’d pulled his cock away from you momentarily so that he could check to see how ready you were for him, but found himself humping against your thigh in his need for pleasure.

“Mi dispiace, amore. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

You reached for his cassock and began undoing as many buttons necessary in order to free him. “Please,” you begged, your voice muffled by the kisses you were giving him, “give it to me. I need to feel you, Copia.”

As soon as he was free, he lined himself up and pushed inside. As soon as he entered you, you watched as his eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open. He was slow at first, aware of the fact that he hadn’t stretched you out before hand and curbing his need for you long enough to not hurt you. But even so, it was a battle against his body. Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders, gripping firmly at the pressure in your cunt, and relaxing around the intrusion. He felt divine, as though he were a puzzle piece slotting into the right place on the board. As though he were made specifically for you. He was long enough to hit your cervix when he’d bottomed out, and thick enough to stretch you, but none of it hurt.

As soon as he’d halfway, he stayed still, capturing your lips in another kiss and licking into your mouth like a starved man; borderline crazy and frantic with his actions. It took him a little while to get the wherewithal to speak, and once he did it was through a breathless and strained voice where he was clearly trying to not cum too soon. “Merda!” He hissed, feeling your tight, wet heat comfortably wrap him. “You are the reason men sin.”

The gravity of his words had you clenching around him, earning a delicious whimper to fall from his lips.

“Non fare così!” He exclaimed through pained laughter., dropping his head back to the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to cum too soon.”

“Copia, please.”

Copia pushed the remainder of his cock inside you, slamming home involuntarily and making both of you moan out in surprised pleasure. Your toes curled at the feeling of the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and you teethed at his jaw.

His hips began pistoning in and out of you, each thrust slow and hard, driving into you with precision and force. His hands moved to your hips for leverage, creating just a little space between your bodies allowing him to fuck into you like you both needed. His cock filled you so nicely, your back arched and your shoulders rested against the cold wall, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clutched onto his shoulders as though your life depended on it.

The noises Copia was making as he pumped into you were things you’d only heard in your fantasies under the cover of night when you were touching yourself, dreaming of this exact moment. His whimpers; the grunts and groans that escaped him along with the breathy moans and the strings of Italian expletives that made your cunt squeeze around him so impossibly good, dribbles of drool were beginning to spill from the corners of his mouth.

“That’s it, amore.” Copia said breathlessly as he continued to rail you. “St-stretching around my cock. You’re doing so well for me.”

The desk groaned beneath you from the force of Copia’s thrusts and the weight of you and all the desires the two of you harboured for one another. It smacked against the wall repetitively as Copia released all those pent-up feelings and poured them into your soul. His eyes travelled up and down your body, taking in the sinful sight of your clothed breasts bouncing beneath your habit. Your dishevelled appearance that had him blush when he first saw you now had him feral and dying for you with each thrust into the utopia that was your cunt. He could feel himself get more and more addicted to the feel of you. As long as you allowed him, he’d have you every single day.

“Wanted you for so long!” You hurried out, confessing your sins like you were in the booth in the Basilica di Lilith.

“Yeah?” Copia reached down and began playing with your clit. “Is this everything you wished for, amore?”

“Feels so good! Fuck!”

“Pretty little thing, taking my cock so well.” He leaned forward and began kissing and licking at your neck again, pressing himself as close to you as he could without hindering the movements of his fingers against your clit. His bare fingers stroking over your folds sent shivers down your spine. That coupled with the pounding he was giving you and you didn’t stand a chance. It was a matter of minutes before you came all over his cock, seconds if he moved just a little bit faster.

You suddenly became hyper aware of the papers below you, strewn about across the desk messily. Thankfully the Chronicles were safe on the other side of the desk, but your translations were at risk of flooding if you didn’t say something. But the words died in your throat when you tried to ask Copia to move. They couldn’t leave your mouth because the angle he was hitting you at was just so good, it left you gasping for air and loudly moaning into his ear.

“So beautiful.” Copia said, muffled by your skin. By now his words were slurred and his thrusts were erratic, his fingers the only appendage responding to their fullest capacity because your orgasm was on the line. “I want you to cum, amore. Cum on my cock. All over my fingers. You’re already so nice and wet for me. Let’s see if you can get wetter.”

“Fuck, Copia!”

“That’s it - say my name.”

“Copia!”

“Again, amore!”

“Fuck! Copia! I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Cum for me.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you came harder than you had in Lucifer knew how long. Touching yourself to the thought of Copia turned out to be nothing like the real thing - the way his body slotted so perfectly between your legs was nothing short of a curse, because you knew now that nothing else would ever be the same. Nothing else would make you feel as good. No one else could ever take care of you the way he could. As you came around his cock, he talked you through it, planting kisses on your exposed skin and holding you close to him, all the while not letting his fingers rest until you pushed him away from you.

Then, it was his turn. With a strangled groan that poured into your mouth like the sweetest nectar, he emptied himself inside of you. He whimpered pathetically with each thrust, almost silenced by your tongue in his mouth. The hand that remained on your hip sturdy with its grip and clasped onto you to stop himself from tumbling over with the sheer force of his orgasm. Yeah, he could quickly get used to this.

After a few moments of staying where he was, kissing you just as passionately as he had moments before, he finally pulled away and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Ciao.” He said softly.

You rolled your eyes at the reference to the Black Mass so long ago, but your mouth shaped into a brilliant smile, with eyes that beamed to happily, Copia was almost blinded by them. “Ciao.” You responded, a giggle catching in your throat and distorting the word ever so softly.

“Ah, amore, we have a problem.”

Your stomach sank. “What?” You asked, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I came inside you.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, it’s okay. The Ministry provides birth control for all those who want it - I wanted it.”

“Ah, sì. That I know. But… my cock is the only thing stopping my cum from escaping. And you’re sat on some papers.”

Your eyes widened, remembering your want to move locations just moments ago. Your mind went blank. “Shit! Oh, no, no, no!”

“It’s okay! There are tissues-”

“On the other side of the room!”

“Okay, I could pull out and-”

“Then your cum would get all over my translations!”

After some back and forth, it was decided that you would awkwardly lift and wiggle your hips so Copia could reach underneath you and pull the flimsy paper out from beneath you. Every time you did, you would accidentally clench down on his softening cock, and he would hiss or scream out in, what sounded like pain, but it was mostly just sensitivity. That, and he knew that one more clench from you would have him chubbing up inside you again, and he was too tired for round two. At least immediately, anyway.

Once you were both certain your hard work had been saved, Copia placed two gentle taps on your thigh. “See? No harm done. All is well.”

“I may have cried if my work was destroyed.”

Copia pulled out of you, causing both of you to whimper at the sensation. But, Copia placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your cheek with his gloved hand. “I would never be the reason for your tears, amore.”

You leaned into his touch, but removed the glove before you did allowing you to feel his bare skin on yours. You placed a soft kiss to his hand, finding comfort and solace in his touch. You believed him. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you. “Grazie.”

Copia smiled, looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. “Prego! Now, I think we should clean up, don’t you?”

You nodded and allowed Copia to help you off the desk and lead you into the bathroom.

You had never showered or cleaned up with another person after sex. Your conquests at the Ministry had usually been either ritual-based or so casual, your partner barely stayed after the fact. But Copia was leading you to the bathroom with his own hands, and turning on the water as hot as possible to get it nice and warm for you when you both were ready - and by Lucifer, did that man take care of you.

He started by brushing your hair, picking up each section gently and working out any knots in it until it was silky smooth and primed and ready for washing, all the while making low conversation with you, his tenor, nasally voice reverberating around the bathroom and bringing comfort to your ears as he worked away at your hair.

He then unzipped your habit, and helped you out of it, folding it neatly to place on the counter so that it would be ready for the next time you wanted to wear it - or pack it, he wasn’t sure.

Bras were tricky garments for Copia, usually when he was too horny to function and wanted access to his partner’s chest. But right now, he was able to take his time with the evil thing, and place soft kisses on your exposed skin to distract you from how long it was actually taking. But, once your breasts were freed, your bra joined your habit on the bathroom counter. He took a moment to appreciate your naked form, drinking in the way you looked completely bare to him. He tried not to stare too long, lest you become uncomfortable and ask that he left - which he would, but he didn’t want to.

You were stunning. So beautiful he almost wanted to put you in a museum and marvel at your work. You’d put Michelangelo’s work to shame if you were placed next to it. You would embarrass the classic artists of old with your beauty. He picked up your hand, “One day, amore, I will worship you so well it will make the gods jealous,” and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

He couldn’t be real - there was no way that a line like that came out of a man like him in your overpriced hotel bathroom filled with steam, so quickly after getting to know you. It was like he had come straight from the pages of a book, complete with all the right lines and gestures to make you fall in love with him.

The Cardinal’s words, a blend of poetic elegance and genuine emotion, painted a canvas of longing and passion spoken in one of the least romantic spots on Earth yet it had your heart racing violently in your chest. The weight of his gaze and the timbre of his voice wove a spell, binding you in a moment suspended in the tapestry of time.

His own clothes took less time to remove, as though he were that one particular scene of the movie Bruce Almighty, where his clothes are just ripped from him and he’s ready to do… well, whatever task one might need to do when naked. The sheer speed of the man, launching his cassock and robes all around the room and making you laugh with the absurdity of it. His salt and pepper hair, a mess from his hat and his Cardinal’s paints a small mess from the exertion of before.

You both got in the shower and washed away the mess of the day from each other’s bodies, lathering soap and rubbing it all over each other, removing each other’s paints and make up and washing each other’s hair. Copia took extra care around your vulva, making sure to clean you thoroughly but as gently as he possibly could so as not to cause you any pain. A thorough lover in all aspects - you wanted to keep him forever.

You dried yourselves off, being silly with the hairdryer before he gave you a gentle kiss and the two of you headed into the bedroom. He picked up his robes and was about to dress himself until you stopped him and told him to join you in bed.

As you and Copia curled up in the softness of the comfortable cushions, the room’s soothing glow from the bedside lamp created a peaceful cocoon. The blankets, a sanctuary of warmth, held the heat that radiated from your joined bodies. He gestured for you to lie on his chest, where your fingers danced and stroked over his hairy torso, drawing the lines of his tattooed “666” over his heart, his chubbiness acting as the ideal pillow. You had only ever seen it in the Ministry’s stained glass windows and, later, in stage replicas of the same stained glass during his performance in the Ghost Project. You didn’t think it was real, but there it was, faded from years of age and hidden partially beneath brown chest hair. The abs in his stained glass replica certainly weren’t real, but there was something about his jiggly tummy that made you happy.

In your hotel room, a soft calmness consumed the two of you, like your own private sanctuary. The authentic connection that formed between you and the Cardinal seemed to eclipse the problems of the day, the weight of your responsibilities, and the Ministry’s norms and regulations.

As you lay side by side, the vulnerability caused by the openness of the conversation and the tenderness of the dim light highlighting your faces. Copia’s comments resonated deeply with a man who had taken solace in the carefree moment’s simplicity, akin to the lines of a lovely song.

The Cardinal’s unbridled, sincere laughter permeated the room, a soft refrain that broke between the calm discussions and times of mutual delight. The walls that usually covered the complexity of your lives came down during this quiet talk, and you two were able to get to know each other on a level that would never have been possible. He was Copia Emeritus, the youngest son of a man who had once performed the same role as him, and an innocent boy who had grown up in a difficult environment. He was more than just the Cardinal and the Head of the Satanic Church. And you were able to lay your soul bare to a man who could understand your troubles in a way not many people could. A rare connection, but a real one.

The soft rustle of the blankets and the soothing rhythm of breathing created a lullaby of comfort,wrapping both of you in a gentle touch of the night. His arm wrapped around your naked body in a hug of protection, drawing you as near to him as he could, as if you were his own.

A fresh day looming over London, sincere conversation, warmth between you and Copia, and a bedroom filled with the soft murmuring of dreams were the small things that brought you comfort in life. With its gentle wings, the night captivated you both, trapping you in a dreamlike world and a soundless melody of hearts interwoven in the unholy.

The throb of excitement and the rush of unexpected intimacy blended with the ashes of dreams that twirled on the brink of awareness, and you fell asleep hardly comprehending the position you were in, but committing it to memory, nonetheless. In order to get a good night’s rest, you made sure to quell the fear that he’d be gone in the morning, and you’d come to the horror that this was all a dream - a fantasy your brain concocted to cope with the idea that you were so close to him.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm embrace upon the room. As consciousness gently reclaimed its hold, you stirred, expecting to find Copia’s presence beside you. However, the realization that the bed was empty washed over you, accompanied by a subtle undercurrent of disappointment.

For a fleeting moment, doubt crept in—had the encounters with Copia been nothing more than the whimsical product of a dream? The vividness of the previous day’s events felt like a mirage, and a sense of yearning lingered in the room, echoing the emptiness left by his absence.

You sat up, the sheets cascading in gentle waves around you, and surveyed the room with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The memories of the shared Chinese dinner, the playful banter, and the intimacy of being cradled in Copia’s arms seemed almost too fantastical to be real.

As you rose from the bed, the lingering scent of Copia’s presence surrounded you, a subtle fragrance that whispered of the shared moments. A pang of longing accompanied the realization that, regardless of the dreamlike quality of the encounters, there was a void in the room that mirrored the absence of the Cardinal.

Attempting to dispel the lingering doubt, you moved through the room, still as naked as you were when you fell asleep the night before, half-expecting to find traces of him—the imprints of his presence, a forgotten belonging, anything that would validate the reality of the connection. The room, however, revealed no such evidence, leaving you in a state of quiet contemplation.

In the silence of the morning, you grappled with the uncertainty, a delicate dance between the threads of reality and the ephemeral nature of dreams. The longing for Copia’s company lingered, an echo of the intimate moments shared, and the room retained a faint resonance of the enchantment that had unfolded.

“Ciao, Sorella,” Copia greeted, his eyes brightening as he entered, the subtle rustling of the bakery bag in his hands adding a touch of mystery to the moment. The relief that washed over you was palpable, dispelling any lingering doubts about the reality of the connection forged the day before.

“Good morning, Copia,” you responded, a genuine smile gracing your lips as he approached. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, a delightful accompaniment to the morning sunlight that bathed the room. He hung the bag from his wrist and used his free hands to cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before you had the chance to protest at your morning breath.

“I thought breakfast from a local bakery might make for a pleasant start to the day,” Copia explained, presenting the bag as if it held a treasure trove of delights. His demeanour, a blend of awkward charm and genuine warmth, echoed the sincerity of his actions. “I wanted to surprise you, but you’re out of bed.”

“I’m sorry… would you like me to get back in it?”

He nodded. “Sì. This isn’t my bed or yours, and we’re leaving in a few hours. Let’s be heathens and eat pastries under the duvet!”

As he began to unveil the contents of the bag, an array of pastries and bread emerged, each one tempting and inviting. The simple act of sharing breakfast became a moment of connection, a continuation of the unspoken understanding that had woven its way through the shared experiences of the previous day.

You climbed back into bed, watching your fully clothed Cardinal do the same - paints and all adorned on his face as though you hadn’t already seen his bareness the night before. He was chipper - even more so than before. It was nice to see him so relaxed.

The room filled with the comforting scent of fresh bakery delights, you and Copia began to enjoy the morning repast. The ambiance shifted, the initial uncertainty dissipating in the face of this shared moment of simplicity and warmth.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a mixture of lighthearted banter and genuine interest in each other’s thoughts. As you nibbled on pastries and sipped coffee, the room seemed to come alive with the easy friendship that had developed between you and the Cardinal.

Breakfast finished slowly, lazily. Your time distracted with continuing your conversation from last night before you both fell asleep. The conversation only stilled when Copia returned to the bed, sitting atop the sheets and stroking the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. Then, his lips were on yours.

He didn’t intend for the kiss to be anything but sweet and chaste, but soon enough, his body was positioning himself over yours and forcing you to lie back against the pillows, one hand propping him up over you, the other roaming over the sheets that covered your body. It was deep and delicious, and made your body tingle with want and your legs spread in anticipation, a silent plea for him to touch you again just as he had the night before.

When he’d removed the duvet from your body, a struggle considering he was on top of them, and had situated himself between your legs, he allowed his hands to wander all over your body as though they were trying to find a destination but kept getting lost. As more and more of your body became exposed to him, he allowed his lips to voyage across your curves, open mouthed kisses leaving trails of saliva in their wake as proof that they’d been there. Your breaths were heavy, allowing your breasts to rise and fall with the exertion. Your lips, kiss-swollen and tantalising, he just wanted to run his tongue over them and taste you in your entirety.

His lips fell upon your chest and worked their way down to your nipples. He tongued the left one, first - fingers pinching the right while he licked and sucked at the bud, groaning as if the taste of you was the most delectable dish he’d ever had the honour of eating.

“I wonder,” he began, lying on his stomach, his hands moving to your thighs and spreading your legs wide enough to slot himself between your thighs, “why Lord Lucifer kept you from me all this time?” He kissed your thigh. “Why he wasted my time on other conquests when the sweetest prize was right under my nose the whole time.”

He groaned at the sight of you; your glistening, taut heat spread and open for his personal viewing, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you as you deserved. He kissed up your thighs, and as he did so, you took the opportunity to pick up his hat and toss it across the room. This earned you a chuckle.

One of his fingers ran up and down your folds, catching on your clit once or twice and making you shiver and jolt with anticipation. Then, those fingers that had gathered your slick slipped into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut in delight. “Time to make good on my promise and make the gods jealous of you.” He told you, before diving into his newfound faith enthusiastically.

Your hands immediately flew to his hair, digits locking around his mouse-brown strands as your back arched against the wall and completely off the desk. Copia immediately went in, tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to get those divine noises to spill from your lips. You had no thoughts of quietening yourself, not when his tongue felt like your whole world could collapse at any minute.

It didn’t take long for your hips to start bucking into his face, chasing the pleasure that he was generously giving you. His moustache scratched against your labia as his lips moved, occasionally hitting the right spots and having you clench around nothing. However his cock and his fingers felt last night, was nothing compared to the way he sucked your clit into his mouth, causing loud, uncontrollable moans to spill from your mouth into the cold morning air.

“Copia - fuck!” Your toes curled beneath you as you let out a scream, Copia still flicking his tongue quickly over your folds.

The heat inside the room rose rapidly, making it almost unbearable and causing a sheen of sweat to form on both of you. Copia trapped you in the position he so desperately wanted by firmly pressing your body down and wrapping your legs around his head. He used one arm to keep your hips pressed down while his fingers on the other were sucked into his mouth to wet them with his saliva before they were mercilessly pumped into you.

He adored the sounds you made the night before, but these sounds were entirely different. Brand new. They were boosting his ego and his confidence so much more, allowing him to get a little rougher with his ministrations, stretching you out to fit him beautifully, just as you had before.

Copia moaned as your fingers tugged at his hair, sending vibrations through your heat and throughout your cunt. The sounds that flooded the room were overshadowed by the sinful squelch your wetness made as his fingers worked up and down against that spot. Those fingers reached the parts of you that his tongue was unable to penetrate as he continued to lap at your folds. His fingers felt even better than his tongue, and that fucking moustache was going to send you to an early grave.

As he moved his face, all you could feel was the tickle of prickly hair brushing against your incredibly sensitive spot. You could feel his moustache every time he moved due to his erratic and fast his movements that had your back arching off the matress and your eyes tightly squeezing shut. You were a loud, sweaty mess completely at the mercy of Copia’s actions, and he was fully aware of his actions.

His tongue moved more quickly as you started hitting your high, and his fingers pumped harder, curling to find your favourite and most responsive spots. With his moustache, it didn’t take him long to bring you to your release. Before long, your back arched and you let out a scream as he continued to pump his fingers through your release. You clung to the bedding, needing something to vent your annoyance on. You felt filthy and unholy, Lucifer. It felt so damn good. Copia took his time caressing your folds and surrounding your cunt, savouring every last drop of your exhaled breath as you laboured to breathe. He was enamoured with you. He could never get enough of you.

“Così delizioso,” he told you, pulling back from your core, “could do this forever, amore.”

He crawled up the bed and locked his lips to yours in another desperate kiss, and you groaned at the taste of you on them. As he was on top of you, your hands began working at his robes to get him just as naked as you still were. You needed to feel his skin, needed him against your body otherwise something bad might happen. His robes were a fight and more frustrating than anything else, causing him to stand on the floor and remove everything as quickly as he could on his own, but the whole endeavour ended in a fit of giggles from the both of you as he dived back on top of you, fervently kissing you.

His cock dragged through your folds as he rubbed against you, giving himself just a little respite from the intense feeling and making you shiver with sensitivity below him. “So wet, amore. All for me, sì?”

“Yes, Copia.” You whispered, your breaths ragged and strained. “Only you.”

His cock jumped at the thought. Were you really considering giving yourself to him forever after only one night together? Were you so willing to belong to him so soon? He loved the thought - the idea that you were so enamoured by him that you just couldn’t refuse; that you didn’t want to refuse him.

“Amore, I could tell you all the things I love and adore about you and stuff your pretty cunt with my cock all day and night. You want that?”

“Yes!” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his cock kept rubbing against your clit, now sopping wet with your juices.

He moved his hips back and, without moving his hands, lined up with your entrance. “Do you want it, amore? Do you want my cock?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me how much.”

“So much, Copia, please. I want your cock to fill me up so fucking good. Please give it to m- oh, fuck!”

He pushed inside of you before you could even finish the sentence, apparently more needy for your cunt than he thought. There was a brief ache from his pounding last night, a twinge that had your eyebrows furrowing, but your mouth hanging open at the pleasure of the stretch.

His kisses traced the same areas they did the night before, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to not cum too soon, especially with the way your cunt was fluttering against him. You were twitching, as if you were begging him to move or do something. But the way he was riled up combined with the way you felt was a terrible combination that would only end in him spoiling the fun before it had even got started. You were truly delectable in every sense of the word - an addiction forming with no hope of relief. Not that he would ever be willing to quit.

“Sathanas,” he whispered into your skin, “this cunt!”

He tested the waters, thrusting once, twice, then three times before deeming his body recovered enough from the initial invasion to pick up the pace and start taking what he needed from you.

“Ah!” Each time those noises fell from your lips was when he thrusted particularly deep inside you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix beautifully and forcing the involuntary sounds to escape.

Copia was draped over you, covering you entirely; pinning you against the mattress with his full weight. There was no way you could move, no way you could think independently of the pleasure that he was putting your body through. You just had to lie there and take it with your legs wrapped around his hips trying to keep him as deep as possible so he’d keep giving you the pleasure you were desperately craving.

“Amore, you’re doing so well,” he panted, “you’re so gorgeous all wet and screaming for me. Merda! Giving yourself to me like this. An honour.”

The position he was in on top of you, and the way he pinned you down with the whole weight of his body, meant that his pubic mound was grinding against your clit, stimulating you with each grind of his hips. Your nails dug into his back and ran down it, creating red welts that Copia knew he’d wear proudly for weeks until they disappeared entirely. The feeling of your nails digging into him did something that drove him to the brink of insanity, and he found himself moving much faster than before.

You were close to cumming, but so was he. A mere few thrusts away before he was cumming deep inside your tight, wet heat, losing himself in your body as he had the night before. You felt divine - like sin itself had come alive just to torment him. He couldn’t believe you’d been there all that time and he’d not noticed you until that Black Mass a mere month ago. Yet here he was, balls deep inside you a second time, fucking you within an inch of both of your lives and needing to just… bite.

“Cumming!” You yelled, your voice high-pitched and straight out of a porno.

“That’s it, amore. Just like that. Cum all over this cock.”

Your second orgasm, just as powerful as your first, had your legs locking around Copia’s hips and forcing him deeper, restricting his wriggle room and making him take the full attack of your fluttering cunt as you spasmed beneath him. Your toes curled, your body arched as much as Copia would allow it to, and your eyes screwed tightly shut from the force of it all.

This triggered his own orgasm, cumming deep inside you and gripping onto your body so firmly, he’d leave a bruise. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, mouth attached to the skin and muffled groans emanating from the area as his hips shook with his own force. His body responded similarly to yours - as in, it was completely out of control. It wasn’t until your legs unlocked him and you allowed him some freedom to pull away, he’d noticed the hickey he’d left on your neck.

“Amore,” he said breathlessly, “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“Not at all,” you replied, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

He poked the hickey - it only hurt a little, as a fresh bruise usually would.

Despite being free, he fell back on top of you, using your entire body as a pillow. He was too tired to move now - too comfortable, too happy. He couldn’t possibly think about the horror that was coming… having to leave this cozy room and soft bed, the warmth of your arms, to get on a cold plane where he’d have to pretend he wasn’t utterly enamoured (and horny) by your presence alone.

But reality called, and work awaited.

This time, however, he’d have you by his side, or even underneath him, whenever he wanted.

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[confusedgoldenflower]

Sigh

I cannot believe this has to be said.

Vikings were NOT A RACE. It was an OCCUPATION. They existed down into fucking Byzantium, and BLACK PEOPLE existed in ENGLAND. Some native Icelanders are melanated!

Get off yourselves!!! The north isn’t some Whites Only Geographical Location, just admit you don’t like POC people despite pretending you’re intersectional feminist!

Casting non-white actors I don’t think would ever be “erasing white stories,” especially not fucking DRAGON RIDING VIKINGS. What even pathetic excuse is this??!! (Like an example of race bending that’d be fucked up would be casting a white land/slave owner as a black man, and that’s not erasing “white stories,” it’s muddying history.)

So I was watching a HTTYD LA and it was good points storywise and how movies work… until they went, ‘this scene explaining the diversity’ and something about Astrid’s casting ‘not being necessary.’ The Vikings moved around a lot, just throw in in Hiccup’s early narration that Berk was made from some unrelated boats converging on the island and staying. And Heaven forbid POC kids see themselves represented at all, or in what’d in all likelihood be historically accurate!

My ass genuinely wouldn’t have known if there hadn’t been a big fuss about it, so even more wtf is the issue.

‘WhY cAnT wE jUsT eNjOy MoViEs AnYmOrE,’ stop complaining about a majority of the human population then and just enjoy it🤨🤨🤨

POC people exist, have existed as long as humanity, and for a very long time with whities, so stop getting so weirdly upset they’re represented with whities in media.

Clarify: youtuber didn’t say the first paragraphs, I’m ranting.

Edit: I’m so pissed bro. In that scene! In. The. Scene! Stoic not only says that they’re ‘descendants of the best dragon killing Vikings from all the places they’d been’ (perfect! Enough said. All that’s needed!), but also that so and so came from the Silk Road and… Bláland. Not required! Twas already established that Vikings aren’t a race, and traveled!

Note on “Bláland:” it’s the Scandinavian Vikings’ name for Mediterranean Africans and means “blue men.” They were… taken as slaves north, all the way to Ireland—wrow, people traveled in the past!? And no one cared about slaves so we don’t hear about them!? Other historic terms for North Africans were “Moors” and “Berbers.” In this specific context, “saracens” was also used and later altered to mean all Muslims (I assume regardless of race or ethnicity).

My point is that even more, there’s fucking nothing to complain about. Your white priveledge isn’t “attacked,” shut the hell up.

[hellslayersomething]

I feel like I should write out some proper thoughts about my opinions on Veilguard, or at least an outline for the much longer essay that is currently calcifying in my heart. It's a mixed bag of a reaction, and I'm not going to compliment sandwiching any of it--this is all just stream of consciousness, so I'm probably going to snag on the negative and spiral down that pretty quickly. Spoilers, obviously:

I liked the battle system. For the first time in a DA game, it actually felt satisfying to play and had its own identity. I do wish the Pokemon element aspect was a little better balanced among the companions, but overall it was great.

That said, considering the length of the game, they needed way more enemy diversity, especially with the bosses. Eventually I was just fighting dragons, and every dragon had essentially the same moveset, one of those moves being "the dragon trips over her own dick and face-plants on top of Rook", which sure doesn't make the fights feel epic. Even very unique characters, like the Gloom Howler, were just reskinned basic demons when it came time to fight them.

The decision to tie companion approval to companion levels was a mistake. A massive and extremely obvious mistake. No wonder there are no disagreements or tension among the group--the game can't let you lose affinity with your team members, because then it would have to account for you leveling them down. The gameplay design here strangled the narrative design in its crib.

Speaking of narrative design: while I appreciate that the modular approach to companion arcs was experimental, it was extremely weird of them to take that approach in the only DA game where all companions are required. The story doesn't have to be written to account for the fact that you might not recruit some of them or they might die early--so why didn't they write one story about Rook and their seven friends instead of one story about Rook and also there are seven smaller, unrelated stories of extremely varying quality shoved in next to it?

The hyperfixation on the companion quests paired with their complete compartmentalization from each other means that each companion basically has nothing going on outside of their own quest and very few opportunities to engage with other characters' quests.

I was so starved for conflict in this game that I went from Solas-neutral to Solas-positive because he was the only character who the game allowed to be a bitch to me, and I respect him for that.

I do like all the horrid little sons the game gives me. I think I would appreciate them more if there was anything bad or tense happening in the story on a personal level that required some comic relief, but I am a sucker for a funky little guy none the less, and Manfred, Assan, and Spite are the perfect trifecta of funky little guys, as far as I'm concerned.

"We're only going to do character cameos if it's important to the plot." *does what they did with Isabela* Okay, devs.

"We aren't importing player choices but we won't override your decisions either." *several codex entries overriding player decisions later* Okay, devs.

I like the companions, generally. I see their potential. Fanfic will do right by them. Harding, in my mind, is the weakest of the bunch, just truly having no personality to speak of and talking like she was written by a Boomer who thinks that Millennials are still teenagers. (Everyone responsible for her uttering the phrase "Awkward..." like she's a character in 2011 quirky girl sitcom should be tried at the fucking Hague, istg.) And while I like Bellara, it was extremely frustrating to have a character that's just "Merrill, again, but with the edges sanded off". Taash and Emmerich are also glaringly the last additions in the writing process, each belonging to one of the two most underbaked factions and neither of them being tied to any of the game's few "big choices". There's promise in this cast, but I don't think any of them came close to realizing their potential.

Davrin and Emmerich's companion quests felt appropriately scoped to the size of the questlines, had good emotionality, good antagonists, and expanded on the lore of Thedas in ways we hadn't seen yet.

Lucanis's companion quest had potential, but it was too unfocused with three antagonists, too much attention to the boring Venatori shit, and not enough examination on Illario's motives or Lucanis's relationships with either Spite or Illario.

Harding's companion quest was fine, I guess (the people are starving for dwarf lore), but Harding could have been swapped out with literally any other dwarven character who wasn't Sandal and nothing would have been different. (Also weird that the whole quest was basically about Sandal while simultaneously fully removing Sandal from the narrative.)

Bellara and Neve's companion quests were just nothing. Just a whole lot of nothing. And Neve's also suffered from what I like to call "machete editing", where it is glaring obviously where things were cut, changed, moved around, and added at the last minute.

I say, from the bottom of my non-binary heart: Taash's companion quest is total ass. Real nice of Mae to come out of hiding and risk being found and executed by the Venatori to give Taash a Queer Theory 101 class, though, I fucking guess.

Is Lucanis's romance bugged? Apparently I'm not the only one who had that thought while I was playing it, so now I'm wondering. Like, there's no way they made it Like That on purpose, right?

Why and how are the Venatori still a force in Thedas, never mind a force with numbers so great (in spite of lacking a central leader) that they were able to simultaneously occupy the two largest cities in Thedas?

They literally didn't even try with the Antaam. The Venatori are at least theoretically still working to try to restore Tevinter to its former imperial might. The Antaam are just invading countries for literally no reason except ill-defined power grabs. Given the racial coding of Qunari, this writing choice sure is...something. (And that something is racist.)

That said, the revelation that the Butcher did a military tour in Europe and fell in love with the culture and just wants to drink wine and visit art museums now is fucking hilarious.

What the absolute FUCK did they do the Crows. I like the Crow characters from Tevinter Nights/the comics, and Zevran is my favorite character in the whole damn franchise, but they completely whitewashed both TN's mafia take on them and their original portrayal in DA:O. But it also doesn't really retcon anything, making it instead seem like the human trafficking and torture and sexual abuse that Zevran suffered at the Crows' hands A) only happened to him individually, and B) are fine, actually??? Even the very few times that characters express reservations about working with Lucanis because he's an assassin, if you play as a Crow, those concerns get immediately backpedaled, so the Crows end up being so ironed out that the game doesn't even let characters say of the Crows, "Murder is bad," lest it hurt a Crow Rook's feelings. That is how conflict-averse the writing is.

So I guess everyone in southern Thedas is...dead now? Several characters survived long enough to get a mention from the Inquisitor, but by the end, it sounds like Orlais, Ferelden, and most of the Free Marches are pretty much donezo. When Epler said the events in southern Thedas didn't matter, I didn't expect that to mean they were going to nuke the damn place. Even having generally enjoyed VG (in spite of all my criticisms here) that, uh...doesn't leave me enthused about the future of the franchise, ngl.

The layoffs of several writers (and other Bioware employees) before the game's release was obviously heinous. But after that secret ending, I'm now of the mind that of the writers that remain, at least a few of them need to be demoted. Like literally what the fuck was that. That was the dumbest plot point to ever appear in a Dragon Age game, and that is a high bar to clear. If you're not going to acknowledge our past choices, then keep Loghain's name out of your fucking mouths.

[dailycharacteroption]

Spellshot (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by ii0TA on DeviantArt)

Archetypes with prerequisites are nothing new. Heck, we’ve already covered several second edition archetypes for spellcasters that, well, require the character to be a spellcaster, but today’s archetype is special because it’s likely the first archetype in the system which only one class qualifies.

What’s that? An archetype exclusive to one class? We haven’t had one of those since… the previous edition.

Now, I respect the trend that Starfinder and later PF2 came up with for archetypes being mostly independent skill sets from one’s class vocation, but I don’t think I’m the only one that thinks something was lost when we didn’t have archetypes that represented diverse niches of what those classes could be. Sure, you can still make a champion that telekinetically tosses around their weapon the way the old mind sword paladin could, but you have to dip into a wizard or psychic to do it, ending up with features that don’t fit the concept sticking out like skin tags.

I could go all night on that, but we’re here to talk about the spellshot archetype, which has vibes of the spellslinger archetype for wizard in 1e, but leaning more on the gun side of things, with some unique ways that the guns and spells interact.

This archetype is primarily associated with the Crowned Regents and the Star Code in Arcadia, where powerful smiths forged legendary magical firearms that are passed down from wielder to wielder. However, anywhere that magic and science collide could be a place where such slingers can be found.

So let’s take a look, shall we?

This archetype is so heavily connected to the gunslinger class that it has to be taken at first level, rather than second like most archetypes, similar to certain spellcasting and undead archetypes. This is because this archetype comes with it’s own gunslinger way that replaces the normal choices.

This way, the way of the spellshot, let’s them reload quickly when recalling knowledge about their foe, empower their weapon with a minor amount of energy for the first few shots each fight, recall a missed bullet and replace spent powder to retry a shot later, and even charge a bullet with dispelling magic to undo the magical defenses of foes when they shoot.

After first level, they must of course take the dedication feat, which grants them a few wizardly cantrips as well as access to wizard multiclass archetype feats for improving their spells. What’s more, this archetype can be taken alongside the beast gunner archetype without needing to wait.

This archetype allows the gunslinger to take a few wizard feats of their own, further blending the classes.

And of course, they also get the feats for the multiclass spellcasting benefits.

Many learn how to imbue attack spells into their projectiles, combining the damage of both spell and shot into one.

Going beyond the minor elemental empowerment of the way, they can also invest magic into their weapon directly, bolstering their next shot with powerful elemental energies.

Furthermore, some further develop their spellcasting to gain a deeper pool of energy with which to cast.

Rare is the magical warrior that is separated from their weapon, and like many, spellshots can learn to call their weapon to their hands.

No barrier provides solace against masters of this art, for many develop the ability to fire bullets or bolts that transcend three-dimensional physics and space, phasing through solid matter to return to normal space just before piercing foes, though they can only make such a shot once a day, and magic can still block them.

Finally, some learn to use the path of their shot as a conduit, allowing them to ride it as a flash of light, appearing next to the foe they just shot.

If you were considering multiclassing gunslinger and wizard, this archetype provides abilities that better synergize with the theme you’re going for. Boosted damage, spellcasting, wizard class feats, and the like. There’s a lot here. With that in mind, I recommend a mixed selection of support and blasting spells, since you’re likely to be focused on ranged support with your build. That being said, the special reload action might be difficult to use depending on how your GM wants to handle recall knowledge rolls in regards to types of foes that you’ve fought before.

There are a lot of ways that this archetype can come about in the Lost Omens setting alone, whether it be the Star Gun or Beast Gun wielders of Arcadia or rare mixed-discipline gunmen combining the gunplay of Alkenstar with the magic of Nex or Geb, and so on. Either way, their magic is likely all about precision, knowledge, and focus. A fight is a problem to be solved, and they will use every tool in their arsenal to do so.

The automatons of the City of Gears have gone out of control, infected by a malignant will that has turned them against the flesh and blood people of the city. A counteroffensive has been launched, led by Ilbera the Spellsniper, to put a stop to it and discover the source, but she’ll need every able body, including the heroes, to make it a reality.

Formerly a great metropolis of the dwarven people, Gungradd’s Folly is now infested with the wicked undead. However, there are more than restless dead that wander the streets. A shadow of dwarven blood but vampiric mark, a dhampir by the name of Tolgan who patrols the streets with magic and scattergun, making sure the dead do not begin wandering out of the city’s ruins.

The rainforest may seem lush and vibrant, but it can be one of the most deadly places in the world. Diseases, poisons, and mundane predators are one thing, but then you also see threats like jungle drakes and worse. That is why the natives offer courses on both magic and gunplay to visitors no matter their intent, lest the jungle claim unprepared souls.