#and veer into seeming disinterested

[sundevours]

6 month T update (12/20/24) (and a random life rant)

My voice finally dropped in a very real way

Hair!!! Everywhere!!! I'm a fuzzy little dude

It's noticeably easier to keep weight on

I'm feeling emotions in a big way, there's not any kind of dissociative block anymore

I'm sweating A LOT. AGAIN. I thought that part was over, but my dose doubled and so did the sweat 🫶

My face shape is starting to look more like my brother's face

Beyond that I got caught in some kind of godforsaken situationship with a beautiful bisexual tailor who is stressing me the fuck out

[pynkhues]

Waittttt why don’t you like the nosefertu movie 🥺🥺

I didn't, anon, no, sorry! I've been trying to be relatively discrete about it, because I know people on here really love it, and I don't actually like harshing anyone's buzz, but it wasn't even a case of it just not being for me, I actually didn't think it was very good.

My issues of it are kind of two-fold, one is with the writing, and the second is more specifically tied to the visual language of the film, and probably more about me really being a cinephile with a particular interest in gothic / gothic-adjacent cinema, haha. I'll put this under a cut in case people would like to scroll past, but also because there are quite a lot of screenshots in the second bit.

My main issue with the writing is that it was a) heavily, heavily expositional, and b) I don't think it had anything new to say about these characters, which is a huge issue when you're looking at the fourth adaptation of this specific story, which in turn is a part of more than 80 Dracula adaptations.

In terms of the exposition, that was frustrating alone with the world building and the period setting, but I'm overall pretty forgiving of that in films like this. What I had a really big issue with was that the script never let us in to any of these relationships. We were told what they were by the characters. There was no authentic intimacy in any of the dynamics, everything that we were supposed to feel about their relationships we were told to feel, not invited to feel.

Ellen and Anna's friendship for instance is positioned as one of the hearts of the film, but we get no context as to their friendship, we are offered no scenes of close intimacy beyond the one in bed later in the film, which feels like too little too late to me. The fact that their friendship is a point of friction in Anna's marriage with Friedrich is also dropped in randomly halfway through the film to spearhead middle act tension, but that doesn't really match the tone of the dynamics as we see them in the first half of the film where he seems to want to look after Ellen as much as Anna does.

I've actually found this with a lot of Eggers scripts - and for the record, I think he is a better director than he is a writer - where he is just fundamentally disinterested in the backgrounds and interpersonal dynamics of his characters. He likes relationships as far as they service the plot and the aesthetic that he's trying to achieve, and deepening them beyond that is just not something he does. It might work for some people, but it actually leaves me really cold as a viewer. I need to know more to feel more, I need to be shown the stakes, instead of told them, I don't get anything out of the film by it telling me that Ellen and Anna are friends, just like I don't get all that much out of it telling me that Ellen and Thomas are in love, which it does, repeatedly, without ever investing in why they are in love. I need to know that why to be emotionally invested, and I just don't think that's there.

Which kind of filters a bit back to this question of why Eggers wanted to remake this. There are excellent versions of it already that tell deeper stories of coming of age, sexually and emotionally, trauma, and female sacrifice, so what did he want to bring to it? More explicit sexuality? Modern effects? That's not enough for me. I think adaptations and remakes have to have something to say - Interview with the Vampire certainly does - and when they don't, they just feel hollow to me, which this film did.

And this goes to my second point too, because a lot of this film felt like it owed a lot visually to better films to me. Again, I do think Eggers is a good director - he manages tone really well, and I think his visual sensibility is compelling (although not as compelling as others, I have to say), but I also think his eye is so heavily influenced by others sometimes that he veers out of homage and into straight up lifting shots.

And I'll give him a pass on some of it, right? Him adapting shots from the 1922 and 1979 films are a part of being in conversation with them, y'know? I don't actually have a problem with him recreating those, and he recreates heaps. I won't repost all of them, but The Frida Cinema did a great compilation of them on Instagram here if you're interested. Here are a few though:

(Interestingly, I actually think his versions are the least innovative in almost all cases too - I often find Eggers movies to be really flat visually - but I'm not going to get into that).

What I have more of an issue with is that I think that a lot of his shots are taken from other films too. Let me show you some examples.

Let's start with that beautiful curtain shot, and then let's have a look at one from the wonderful Jane Campion film, Bright Star (2009), and finally Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970).

The last one is a little different, of course, but I did want to include it because that is literally a Nosferatu-esque monstrous vampire coming through the curtain, and also I think Eggers took a lot of inspiration from that particular film.

Okay another one. Let's look at Ellen in her white night gown, running out the door, and then lets have a look at two other iconic gothic films - The Uninvited (1944) and Eyes without a Face (1960).

Another one! Ellen ripping off her dress, then lets have a look at a shot from famed British arthouse filmmaker, Derek Jarman's The Last of England (1987)

This one feels obvious, but of course the eyes rolling back screaming shot is obviously heavily reminiscent of The Exorcist (1973).

This shot of Ellen, with this shot from The Piano (1993) which I would've maybe talked myself out of if I didn't immediately Google and find out Eggers listed The Piano as one of his favourite films on the Nosferatu press tour (taste! Now THAT'S a movie!).

And this is a promo shot because I couldn't find the still from the film itself, but again, Ellen with Orlock, and Valerie with the Monster in Valerie and Her Week of Wonders (1970)

Like I mentioned, I do think he took quite a lot from Valerie and Her Week of Wonders generally which is a dreamy, gothic, erotic horror featuring vampires that was released as a part of the Czechoslovak New Wave in 1970. It's not super easy to capture in screenshots, but there are elements to the tone and the way that he structures the story that feel heavily influenced, and even involves sex with the unseen supernatural outside. These shots don't look that similar, but trust me, it's basically the same thing happening in both (and again, I think Jires' shot is a lot more compelling).

I could honestly probably list a lot more, because I know while I was watching it, I recognised shots from The Innocents (1961) [a lot of the window shots felt very heavily tied to this one], My Cousin Rachel (1952), Night of the Hunter (1955), The Spiral Staircase (1946) and Viy (1960). That's not a criticism necessarily, but it goes back to my point that I just don't think Eggers had much to say in this particular film. He wanted an aesthetic and a vibe which he obviously saw and loved in other films, but without having anything to say, or a deeper understanding of these characters, I think it stifled his own creativity which let the film down on both a writing level and a visual level.

It was like watching a collage of a bunch of things he liked, and I get it, I mean, I like those things too, I think we have similar taste in movies, haha, but without a good script to drive this film forwards, or meaningful engagement of these characters - - like I said, it just left me really cold.

[noa748]

Fortune's Favored (bg3 bunny part 8)

[Part 1][Part 7]

Shorter one this time, was trying to post yesterday to keep up the Sunday tradition but I had a conversation I wanted to finish writing. I do love me some character interactions... after a long fight scene, I like to write 800 chapters of straight talking, as a little treat

----

I nodded, watching as he strode off. Shadowheart and Astarion moved on with their own tasks, and it wasn’t long before I was alone. My shoulders slumped; the relief of it was palpable. I was really just trying to keep everyone from biting each other’s heads off, but somehow I kept ending up in a leadership role. I wasn’t used to my decisions carrying any sort of weight—at least, the ones not relating to any sort of foreknowledge. Was this how Lloyd had felt?

Straightening, I attempted to shake off the exhaustion of the day. There would be time to really mull things over when I was lying in bed later. For now, there was still work to do; I needed to have a chat with Aradin. He was, after all, the last person that had seen Halsin.

The shadows of the cavern closed around me as I made my way deeper into the druid’s grove. Though the temperature dropped slightly once I passed beneath the rock, it was still pleasantly warm in here. The air smelled of damp earth and campfire smoke.

I paused for a moment when I reached the base of the stone stag I had glimpsed before. It was even more impressive up close; the statue was so tall I had to crane my neck to see its moss-covered antlers. The plaque at the base read ‘This grove is kept by Silvanus’ faithful.’

Silvanus. My mental notes were already becoming a jumbled mess. The thought of trying to keep track of all this was overwhelming; I felt like a clueless tourist in a foreign country trying to blend in. At least we spoke the same language, thank God.

I heard Gale’s voice, and spotted him over to my right; he was deep in conversation at the merchant’s stall, just as he said he would be. I thought about the small bag of coin tucked away in my pack, and hoped he had more money than I did. It was nice of him to offer to do the shopping, but I was reminded that this was another logistics issue we’d have to iron out. If we lived long enough for money to matter, anyway.

I veered to the left, slowly circling around the huge central column of stone that seemed to support the roof of the cavern. A bed of soft ferns grew at the base of the pillar, and their fronds whispered against my boots as I walked. Wooden walkways and platforms were built up against the stone, their posts carved with intricate swirling designs. A scattering of tarps and lean-tos provided shelter from the gaps in the stone up above. I spotted Shadowheart up on one of the platforms, wearing her best poker face as two women spoke with her. Lae’zel was on a nearby path, locked in a staring contest with a guard in heavy armor.

Oof. Couldn’t watch. The tiefling had a no-nonsense look to him, so hopefully he could handle it.

It was in the furthest reaches of the cavern that I finally discovered Aradin’s camp. He stood at a long table amongst scattered bedrolls and belongings, a metal stein clutched in one hand. The club he’d wielded in battle was lying forgotten against a bench, still caked with gore.

There was no sign of the man who’d fought alongside him, but the woman was crouched off to the side, rummaging through a backpack. She noted my approach with a disinterested glance before going back to her task.

Aradin heard my boots thumping on the wooden floor and straightened, turning to me with a sardonic smile.

“If it ain’t the fearless goblin-slayer.” He held his stein up briefly in a mock toast. “You sure you want to be seen with me? I ain’t exactly popular with this lot.”

Annoyed by his contemptuous demeanor, I raised my eyebrows in exaggerated surprise. “Really? But you’ve got such a winning personality.”

“Clever,” he shot back, the smile dropping from his face. “Now please do feck off.”

“You feck off,” I replied, mimicking his tone. “We saved your asses back there.”

He let out a derisive little huff. “Yeah, you really saved the day, swooping in and playing the hero. Now I’m gonna take the blame for leading the goblins here, and losing the bloody druid.”

 “Yes, those are things that you did,” I deadpanned.

His eyes flashed and he set the stein down on the table hard enough for beer to slosh over the side. Leaning forward just far enough to be in my personal space, he growled, “Half my men are full of holes. I did what I bloody well had to.”

The words sank in; I felt a twinge of doubt. He was a dick, but at the end of the day I really didn’t know that much about the situation.

A tense silence stretched on. Aradin stared me down just long enough to make a point before taking a step back and crossing his arms.

“Did you want something, or did you just come to shit on my parade?”

 I let out a sigh. “…The druid. Do you think he’s still alive?”

“Who knows? If he’s lucky, he’s diggin’ latrines. More likely he’s boilin’ in a cookpot by now. Goblins ain’t picky eaters.”

Well, at the very least, he hadn’t actually witnessed Halsin’s death. That was a sliver of hope, right? Something to go on.

“You actually thinking about going after him? You really are one of those half-wit hero types. I’d tell you to start diggin’ your grave now, but I doubt there’ll be enough left of you to fill it.”

I glared at him. “Half-wit? I’m not the one that got his ass handed to him by a few goblins.”

“Wasn’t no few goblins, mate. There’s an entire hive of ‘em,” Aradin replied sharply. His lip curled, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me to get lost. Then, to my surprise, he just let out a short breath and snatched up his beer again.

After taking a long drink, he said, “We’ve got a contract to track down some relic. Halsin—the druid—wanted in on the job. Eyes lit up when he heard about it.”

“What’s the relic?” I asked.

“It’s called the Nightsong,” he responded. “Supposed to be buried under a temple nearby. Wizard in Baldur’s Gate is offering gobloads for it. Shoulda known there’d be a catch—gobbos were on our damn tail the whole way.”

The Nightsong. I committed it to memory, though I was hardly interested in a treasure hunt. Why was it relevant to a druid? Surely not for whatever monetary reward some wizard was offering.

“If it was that bad, why didn’t you turn back?” “Wanted to,” Aradin huffed. “Almost did. Things went south when we was jumped near Moonhaven. But thanks to another hero-type arsehole, we got out of that one. Bloke joined up with us.”

I thought about making a damsel in distress jab, but decided against it when I saw his eye twitch with barely repressed anger. He clearly wanted to vent, and I was sorely lacking in intel—better to hold in my snide commentary.

“I didn’t trust him,” the man went on, “but the bastard was strong. And we could practically taste the gold. He got real cozy with the druid—go figure, nature freak and the freak of nature. We wouldn’t’ve gone on if he hadn’t showed up.”

“But you did,” I prompted.

“Aye. We thought the temple might be good for some shelter, but that’s where the entire horde was camped. Goblins got Halsin when we turned tail and ran. Lost sight of the other one—whole lot of bloody help he was. My guess is he’s halfway to Baldur’s Gate by now, relic in hand.” Aradin turned his head and spit. When he looked back at me, some of the ire had faded from his expression. “Still keen to go chasing ghosts, lass?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Where is this temple?”

“A few hours west on foot, if you ain’t gutted on the way,” he replied. “You’ll likely smell ‘em or hear their drums before you see ‘em. I’d give you the map and wish you a happy funeral, but my mate Brian kept hold of it like his own todger—all I’ve got’s the contract.”

He reached down and plucked a tattered piece of parchment off the table. It had a large yellowed ring on it from where he’d set his stein. An extravagant seal was stamped at the top, and beneath it I glimpsed the words “ADVENTURERS WANTED” written in bold letters.

“Job’s all yours, if you’re itching to meet Kelemvor,” he said, waving it rudely at me.

I snatched it out of his hand, ignoring the snort I received in response. It only took a few seconds to scan the contract and get the gist of it—a wizard named Lorroakan promising fame, glory, and five thousand gold pieces, which was apparently a small fortune.

“Shoulda known better than to trust a wizard. Gold probably would’ve turned to lead the second we left the city,” Aradin commented.

“Good thing I’m after the druid, not the gold, then,” I responded as I tucked the paper away. “Thanks for the info.”

“Heh. Don’t thank me; I’ll be well on my way to Baldur’s Gate when you die.”

I privately hoped I’d stumble upon this relic, if only to rub it in Aradin’s face later. But it was really only a passing thought; I had way bigger things to worry about than this prick.

“We’ll see about that,” I replied. “I’d say ‘see you around,’ but I honestly hope I don’t.”

“That makes two of us. Now feck off.”

He downed the rest of his beer, then turned away to pour more from a spigot in a nearby cask. I briefly made a face at his back, then stomped off without another word. Not worth my time, not worth my time…

Time. I strolled down the path, away from Aradin’s camp, and mulled over everything I had learned. We were short on time—and our few options so far involved leaving this place for parts unknown. We still didn’t have any definitive answers. The temple was close, but was it worth braving a den of goblins for someone who might already be dead, with no guarantee he’d even be able to help us? Alternatively, could we afford to stake everything on this crèche, wherever it might be? Those tieflings back there had been scared of Lae’zel for a reason.

Maybe Halsin was still alive. There was that other guy, the one he’d been cozy with, as Aradin had so eloquently put it. Maybe he had stayed to help. Losing sight of him wasn’t exactly proof of a betrayal.

… Or maybe he was dead, too. I sighed; too many unknowns.

The sight of Aradin’s missing man broke me out of my thoughts. He stormed right past me, fuming as he wiped blood from a split lip. The armored tiefling from before was watching him go; his impassive expression did nothing to hide the contempt in his eyes. And when his gaze shifted to me, those eyes didn’t soften.

Knowing the sort of person Aradin seemed to be, I’d bet his buddy had it coming. Still, this was just going to create more animosity in an already tense environment. Maybe it was better that we weren’t sticking around.

It was too bad. Despite everything going on, it was kind of nice to be around people again, even if all the tails and horns and glowy eyes were really throwing me off. The hustle and bustle of this little community felt so… normal. I could almost forget about the nightmare that had led us here.

As I came around the far side of the central column, the wall of the cavern fell away to reveal a lush vista. Here, rocky cliffs dropped down into a verdant glade with a sparkling pool at the center. There was a small object perched atop some rocks in the middle of the pool; four towering stone beasts gazed down at it from the water’s edge, silent sentinels.

Beyond the curious scene below, I could see the shadowed silhouette of more cliffs in the distance—and beyond that, the sparkle of water on the horizon. The ocean.

When I turned to continue on, I spotted Gale once again. He was standing at the edge of the dropoff ahead, looking down at the same view. I slowed my steps to study his profile for a moment. Bathed in the glow of the evening sun, brow furrowed in thought, hair lightly mussed by the breeze… he cut a dashing figure. I was suddenly very conscious of how caked with mud I still was. Ugh, I probably looked like a disaster.

He glanced my way, and then it was too late to make a hasty retreat. His smile was an open invitation that I couldn’t refuse. I walked over to stand at his side, and we stared out at the scenery together.

“I’ve never had cause to visit a druid’s grove before,” he remarked. “Magic weighs heavier here, seeking solace in root and soil. Grounding, one might say.”

I let out a hum of approval. Magic weighs heavier here. His statement was an echo of my earlier sentiments, put much more eloquently. Though he could be verbose, it always felt like he crafted his sentences with such care; it was a hard contrast to the way I tended to blurt out whatever dumbass thing crossed my mind.  

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I liked to think I had a little more restraint than I used to… just a little.

“It’s a shame about the circumstances. I get wanting to protect your own, but shutting everyone out is such a short-sighted solution,” I said after a moment of thought.

“Indeed. I suppose it’s the nature of such things,” Gale replied, his eyes darkening a bit. “With one’s survival in question, expediency often triumphs over principle. Few things will draw darkness from a man’s heart as surely as the grim reminder of his own mortality… like pus drawn from a festering wound.”

I shot him a sidelong glance, reminded of his brooding demeanor last night. Somehow I got the vibe that we weren’t talking about the druids anymore.

“It’s not all pus,” I responded flippantly, and was rewarded with a sharp exhale that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Seriously, though. People surprise you sometimes,” I continued. I was thinking once more about the people of Luin, who had never once blamed me for bringing ruin to their doorstep.

“… That they do.”

Gale had turned to me with a little lopsided smile on his face, and I started panicking all over again about what a disheveled mess I was. Was… was there mud in my hair? This was so embarrassing. Why was he looking at me? I needed to go hide—

“You just care about your stupid apprenticeship!”

“Take that back. Right now!”

A fight breaking out cut my conversation short for the second time today. I turned, noting with some relief that at least this time it didn’t look like things were going to come to blows.

“They’re kin, Rolan! We can’t just leave!”

----

A/N: Cue seamless transition into the best tiefling trio!!

I swear I was going to get to Wyll here. He's next on the docket. There is just so much going on exposition wise in Act 1 lol. I'll eventually do some time skips here and there and get past the more sidequesty stuff, but the first couple of days are pretty important

to my little circle of consistent readers, i appreciate u :')

[weirdducky17]

‧₊˚┊ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟┊‧₊˚

[ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2] [ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3]

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ɪꜱ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ"

The chattering and laughter from the nearby kindergartners playing at the playground still continued as normal, something about pirates and sea bandits, as they run around the snow covered grounds. The swings' chains creaked unpleasantly under their weight, the metal links seemingly not having been oiled for a good few years. And yet they were unbothered, like the usual. It was nice and boring.

With a swift kickoff to the concrete below them, they swung back and jumped off the swing and landed safely in their two feet, arms out for balance due to the small sheet of ice over the concrete. A glance to the side was made after hearing soft clapping, a small kid with black tufts of hair atop their head. Wearing a simple green shirt, brown shorts and neatly laced up sneakers. The boy looked sweet, adorable even, when he smiled up at them.

"10 points!!" He chimed out in his innocent amusement, earning a grin from the individual. They wave towards the sweet looking kindergartener, biding them a farewell for now as they head towards the neighborhood blocks where majority of residents lived. Ignoring the familiar sensation of eyes staring at the back of their head, they made their brisk exit and never met the green eyes that peered at them curiously.

Their dark hair bounced at every step, a subtle shiver running up their spine as a cold breeze came to pass. She still needed to get used to South Park's chilly weather, their side of Alabama rarely got any snow when they lived there. Wearing a skirt was probably the dumbest thing to do when venturing out on the icy town's streets but it was too late to complain about it now, not when she was already headed back home. After delivering a lunch box to her Aunt Laura, she took a short break to take in the scenery at the playground.

Stomping down the sidewalk, she briskly trecked her way back to her humble, but temporary, abode as a bunch of kids around her age ran down the road screaming their heads off. A red shopping cart was being pushed down the tarmac containing a chubby guy dressed in a red jacket, two other boys were pushing the cart in a steadfast pace dresses in brown and blue jackets respectively. Another boy seemed to be in the shopping cart but was squished down by the weight of the red jacketed boy, a shade of orange could be made out.

Blue-green eyes watched them sprint past them in a blur, a mob of angry looking employees holding wooden bows and firing arrow after arrow at the kids speeding down the road whilst dressed in red shirts... Are those Target employees??

"Huh.." A small huff of disbelief left their lips as their screams and angry mob noises grew distant they turned a corner heading to the direction of the town's center. With a shrug, they promptly headed back home. Yeah no, they're not getting involved with that.

As soon as a dull brown house came into their view, their pace grew faster as they veered towards the green, front door. They twisted the door handle as the door creaked open, entering the cozy house. A familiar man was sat upon his "work" desk, dressed in his bright blue sweater, his balding, orange curls sat messily atop his head. He was back at it again with assembling that miniature ship inside a bottle, using thin and long tweezers to attach the mast of the small vessel encapsuled in its glass case.

"Uncle Thomas, I gave Auntie her lunch at the bank. She told me to tell you to to defrost the chicken to start on dinner."

"Mhm.. yeah.." His disinterested reply rang out as he stuck his tongue out in concentration, his niece staring him down from behind him.

.

.

.

"Cal can you defrost the chicken for me?" Thomas asked of her which earned an eyeroll from the kid, heading their way towards the kitchen after dropping their yellow scarf on the nearest chair as they walk by.

Rolling up the wooly sleeves of the sweater, they deadpan as they realize they're too short to reach the handle of the freezer, much less grab the chicken out of it. A sliver of frustration burying themselves inside of the young kid as they sigh out in exasperation, tilting her head up to glare at the ceiling.

"Craaaaiiiiigggggg?" They hollered out into the house, a small thump could be heard upstairs but there was no response in return.

"Craaaiiig? Can you help me get the chicken? I'm too short to reach the handle!"

"Just climb on the counter to get it, I'm not going down there to get it for you." A familiar nasally voice rang out from one of the bedrooms upstairs "Dude just get down here and help me! Your mom's gonna yell at you cause you didn't!" An annoyed groan could be heard, the sound of footprints begrudgingly making their way towards the staircase of the house.

Like a shotgun cocked back with ammo in its chamber, it wasn't a surprise when a dark haired boy had flipped her the finger readily pulled up on his hand as he trudged down the wooden steps. An amused glint in their blue-green eyes as she watched her older cousin (by a few months mind you) make his slow descent towards the kitchen.

"Gremlin ass."

"Says the one with a big ass chin."

With a roll of his yellow-blue eyes, Craig walked over to the tall fridge and stared up at the handle as he raised his hand up and unhinged the door of the freezer. With a small tug, he managed to unlatch the frozen, whole chicken from one of its shelves and almost tossed the freezer burnt poultry to the floor if it weren't for her fast reflexes.

A disgusted grunt left her body as she held the chicken in their hands, the scent of frozen meat wafting through the air as they tossed the package into the sink to submerge it in hot water to defrost quickly.

"I'm excited to go to school tomorrow, how weird are your classmates?" They peered up at their older cousin curiously who was busy rummaging through the fridge, pulling out some apple juice hidden behind some jugs of milk.

"Calista.. a word of advice, don't fucking talk to Team Stan." Craig's tone sounded annoyed, well more annoyed than it usually was at least. 'Team Stan'? What is this? The Heathers? Did this school seriously have cliques? They're 4th graders for god's sake, they better not be singing angsty songs about wanting to commit a genocide at school.

She couldn't help the amused snort leaving her, "Team Stan? Seriously? Besides the weird groupings you guys got, why should I not talk to them? Are they gonna start fucking snapping at me like Jets and the Sharks?" Their shoulders bounced as she chuckled to herself.

However, Craig didn't share her amusement one bit. His eye twitched, something that made it obvious he was, in fact, annoyed just mentioning them. Calista quirked an eyebrow at him as she washed her hands clean from the smell of chicken in the sink.

"Craig 'I don't give a fuck' Tucker? Annoyed? What did they do to you to get under your skin that badly? This isn't my cousin." Calista crossed her arms after drying her hands off on her sweater, rather curious on what the deal was with these 'Team Stan' guys.

A scoff leaves his lips. "Probably one of the most fucked group here in South Park, I can't even count how much shit they get into on a daily basis. Don't stick around them, knowing how you are, you'd get in trouble like I do." He poked the straw into his apple juice, a stoic look settling over his face as he took a sip and seemingly swirled the contents of the juice box as if it were fine wine.

"Oookay then?" Despite her confusion, she was inclined to believe him, after all, Craig rarely ever lost his cool. He liked things "nice and boring" as he says, one would assume that they were the exact opposites of it.

"If I listen to you, can I sneak Stripe into school?—"

"No."

"Please?—"

"No."

"Why noooootttt?"

"Stop acting like a kid, we're not bringing stripe to school. It's not even 'bring your pet to school day'."

"I'm 9! And you're literally the same age as me!!"

"I'm still older.. and smarter than you."

"At least I don't have to go to the dentist to fix my teeth." Calista huffed out as Craig sent a nasty glare at her words.

"But we can make Stripe to bite people in class! It'll be fun!"

.

.

.

"... Tempting."

"See! Pleaseeeee??" Calista insisted with great passion, pouting her lower lip in an attempt at convincing him. But he was Craig Tucker, he was never one to budge over simple tactics of manipulation.

"No. Fuck you." He pressed the back of his hand onto her forehead, his middle finger raised high and proud as Calista returned his glare.

"Then I'm gonna talk with Team Stan!"

"That's your funeral then, I'll have those words carved into your gravestone."

"Uncle Thomaaasss! Craig's being a dickkk!!"

"Am not!"

"Yeah.. mhmmm.." Was the only response they got, much to their own disappointment. Out of spite, Calista dipped her hand into the sink and touched the cold, yet frozen skin of the chicken that was defrosting. Then she promptly wiped it off onto Craig's NASA printed t-shirt, her middle finger raised up to rub salt into the wound.

"Oh you motherfucker——"

⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It was a rather relaxing, sunday afternoon  at Tolkien's house, 'Team Craig' being holed up in their friend's room. Clyde groans out in frustration and resisted the urge to throw the controller clasped in his hands, cowering away from Tolkien's searing gaze, seemingly all knowing to what thoughts went through the brunette's head.

"Don't even think about it Clyde." Tolkien sneered at him as he paused the game of smash they were playing on his playstation.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.." He huffed out and turned his head away, in an attempt to avoid Tolkien's look.

"Uh huh.." The boy was clearly unconvinced of this act "If even the smallest of cracks appear on that controller, you're paying for the entire thing."

"What?! That's unfair it'll cost me a lot of my dad's savings!!" Clyde's nasally voice rang out as Jimmy couldn't help but chuckle while he lowered his own controller.

"He m-m-migh-might get i-in trouble again f-for f-f—forking up more cash money t-than he usually does." He stuttered out in his usual jovial tone as he peered at his friends.

"Let's just play the stupid game, jeez." Craig cuts into the conversation, his neutral expression twisted into a more annoyed one. "And Clyde, don't break Tolkien's controller cause you're a sore fucking loser."

"What the— I'm not!!" Tolkien rolls his eyes at his complaint and eventually unpaused the game for Craig's sake, making sure to target Clyde's character (who just happened to be Kirby) with his own. Ignoring the loud protests of brunette as Jimmy cracked jokes at his own expense, getting bullied off the platforms at Hyrule Castle with Jimmy's Pacman taunting at the upper most floating platform.

"H-Hey Craig?" Jimmy pipes up all of a sudden as Craig was immersed in tormenting Clyde's existence in smash, camping the ledge and punching the Kirby fighting for his life as rounded, pink character tried their best to jump back up onto the platform with Captain Falcon looming over them.

"What?" Was his simple response, cut off by Clyde's cry of anguish as his Kirby fell into the void, losing his last life as he fell onto his back and rubbed his face in frustration. "H-How come you haven't b-b-be—been letting us over at your house l-lately?" The yellow sweatered boy questioned as Craig spared him a glance.

"Actually yeah, Jimmy brings up a good point. You even pushed for our math project to be completed here at my house." Tolkien joined into the conversation as he maneuvered his Pikachu to also taunt along with the pacman. Sending a questioning gaze as the boy he deemed his best friend.

"It's nothing, someone's been working at the house this week." Craig thought up a quick excuse but Jimmy and Tolkien were not convinced in rhe slightest. Even Clyde lifted his hands away from his watery eyes to peer at the chullo hat wearing boy in confusion.

"And we're not allowed to visit cause of that?" Sniffles out a tearful Clyde, pushing himself off the rugged floor to peer up at their deadpanned  friend.

"Yep." The three glanced amongst themselves, yeah Craig was hiding something. Big enough that he didn't want them finding out, what was in Craig's house?

Should they be worried? I mean, this is Craig Tucker they're friends with after all...

Maybe they should be, Craig is a wild card so they have no idea what the boy hides in his closet— or house in this case.

[incensuous]

apo//thecary diaries spoilers/rant

i just finished vol5 of the light novel and im bursting at the seams, dont mind me im just rambling to myself

i LOVE jinshi and maomao, i ADORE them to bits and pieces, both of them have deeply endeared me.

however, i'm seriously questioning a handful of noncon moments where jinshi is more or less "gently" forcing himself onto maomao. who clearly and abundantly shows her disinterest, often physically and verbally. and usually i'm whatever about noncon in fics and can enjoy it, but to see the really bizarre noncon in this series that isnt... really... about that? it feels so strange.

the romance is veering into territory i am disappointed by because it does feel a bit cliche and has the classic whiff of "kinda rapey male lead noncons his way onto female lead, sexy!" which... part of me understands since maomao is SO obstinately ignorant (willingly so, typically)

it starts from when jinshi pins maomao down in a cave, when they're alone, in a very sexual way. they are interrupted by being rescued, and he is frustrated she tries to play dumb about him not being a eunuch, considering he was trying to tell her his real identity.

he seems to apologize for it, offering her an extremely rare medicinal ingredient which she is over the moon for and promptly ignores whatever the hell he's trying to say lol

2. as they are concluding an INSANE non-romance plot arc, the two of them are resting (amongst a bunch of seemingly dead children), he attempts to corner her and kiss her. they're conveniently interrupted when the children RESURRECT LOL she's trying to warm up the UNDEAD children and he's all *bedroom eyes* "can we continue this later?" time and place, jinshi!!!

3. in a different moment, he, i'm not kidding, BITES her. he just bites her goddamn neck. she smacks him across the shoulder. then he falls asleep in her lap which is cute but ... HELLO??? JINSHI????? WHY THE BITE???? i think that is singlehandedly tHE most out of pocket thing he's fucking done yet. it's also just so smutty the way it's described, there's a string of saliva as he pulls back from her neck????? am i on ao3 by accident?!

4. there's PLENTY of very very cute iconic moments too, don't get me wrong, it makes me squeal like crazy. but vol5 ends with jinshi finding maomao outside of the party (classic), and then gets frustrated with her suggesting he marry a "safe choice". then he cHOKES her. HE STRAIGHT UP JUST TWISTS HER ARM AND CHOKES HER. she tells him, "it hurts" and he just says, "oh, does it?" of course, he eventually stops and then holds her until she gets mad at him. and then he is pushing her back down towards the bench, laying on top of her.

after the first instance in the cave, i kind of brushed it off like. that was weird, but i was extremely delirious over jinshi's whimpering and that totally clouded my judgment lol.

but now with all of these other scenes, i'm still in love with them but i have to admit i'm feeling a little conflicted. maomao's pov is always that he looks at her with eyes like a "feral dog", and that she is trying to get away. it kind of breaks my heart. she says "He will devour her, all in the pursuit for something that wasn't even there." like, YES i am thirsty for jinshi so the idea of him having bedroom eyes is hot, but the way maomao is so uncomfortable with it genuinely upsets me...

[thetavolution]

ROSALIND

Full name: Rosalind Nightshade Name meaning:  Rosalind: lovely rose or gentle horse; Nightshade: self-explanatory Pronouns: She/Her Race: Zariel Tiefling Age: 36 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Rolan Class: Cleric Subclass: Knowledge Origin: Sage  Theme song: Perfect by Alanis Morissette, jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo, Stripped Bare by Alyson Stoner, Toxic Thoughts by Faith Marie, and Liability by Lorde

Personality Rosalind is an academic through and through. She is endlessly curious and incredibly well read. She will info dump on almost any subject if you let her. Her curiosity has led her to research a myriad of topics from medicine to the history of clowning in Faerûn. Once the flood gates open, she doesn’t hold back.

Her curiosity often veers into nosiness. She’s a gossip and she won’t deny it. She was known to have the scoop on everyone at work. She knew what everyone was up to and she had thoughts on all of it.

She teeters between over-confidence and utter self-hatred. There are some topics she can be smug about in a Gale-like fashion (I say, affectionally). But she’s called herself the stupidest person she knows on many occasions. She’s a perfectionist. If she isn’t immediately good at something she flounders and gets upset. She’ll try to cover her embarrassment with faked disinterest or outright calling whatever it is stupid. Rosalind will beat herself up repeatedly if she isn’t perfect or the best at something. She’s the girl who would have a meltdown if she wasn’t class valedictorian. 

She is highly opinionated and she’ll argue with anyone at length on certain subjects. She’ll argue with people she respects, too. If anything, lengthy debates seem to be one of her love languages. She can be pretty sarcastic in her rebuttals at times. Gale is one of her best friends and those two can disagree about magical philosophy for hours, and they get smug at each other. But by the end of it, they’re closer as friends than when they started.

Others have called Rosalind high maintenance. She’s used to living a scholarly life indoors. She doesn’t take to being on the road very well and has to figure out how to suck it up for survival’s sake. She also loves the nice things in life like soft bedsheets and good food. She wasn’t rich prior to her adventure, but she had enough money to treat herself. She does like being treated like a princess whenever she can get away with it.

History Rosalind was born in Baldur’s Gate to Darius and Morgana Nightshade. Darius is a cleric and a teacher while Morgana is a wizard and former adventurer. Her mother was used to the limelight and never really wanted to let it go. Morgana had a reputation for being a hero and tales of her good deeds have followed her throughout her life, including some that bards completely made up. 

Darius and Morgana had two children, Adelaide and Rosalind. Darius and Morgana began training them from an early age to prepare them for their future careers. Adelaide became the golden child as she took after Morgana. Adelaide became a wizard just like her mother although it’s unclear how much she truly wants it for herself.

Rosalind was a dutiful student, quickly learning that her parents would withhold affection over any perceived failure. The Nightshade family was (and still is) financially weighed down by Darius’ gambling habits. Morgana was relying on her girls to support them once they were old enough, adding to the pressure the girls felt to succeed.

Desperate for approval, Rosalind upped her training when she was in her early teens. She would study at the Open Hand Temple. It was easy for people to take advantage of the naive and sheltered Rosalind. She was book smart, but lacked street sense. Fortunately, Father Lorgan took her under his wing and kept her safe.

Her time at the temple would kick off her career. She would never cross paths with Wyll prior to the events of BG3, but she did make her way into the upper political circles. While she never secured a position of power for herself, she would find ways to serve the Council of Four. She made a place for herself as a researcher. Despite all of her hard work, she never won her parents’ approval. She would work as a researcher for years, unable to rise further despite her best efforts. She was often caught up in departmental politics and drama in the work place, which affected her professional and personal life.

Everything she built would come crumbling down all thanks to a little tadpole in her brain.

Likes: Research, studying, magic, medicine, antiques, reading, gossip, being spoiled, debating people, studying languages, history, politics, philosophy, anthropology, painting, libraries, the smell of books, pressing flowers, writing letters, afternoon tea, rainstorms, and learning new things

Dislikes: The pressure from her parents, departmental politics, not being able to share knowledge, being barred from learning something, high pitched noises, weather that’s too hot or too cold, hypocrites, bugs, black licorice, raisins, and bad teachers

Fears: She’s terrified of never making anything of her life. She also fears never getting her parents to approve of her. She’s still waiting for the day for her parents to tell her she did a good job. Rosalind doesn’t want her parents to die before she can make amends with them. Rosalind also fears that her parents are right and she’s a failure.

Quirks: Does her love for debating people count? She leaves empty cups of tea all over her house. She has incredibly fancy handwriting. She also seems to have research a broad range of topics. You can expect her to come in with random information about almost everything you come across.

Mental Health: She was pushed way too hard as a child, and she now conflates success with love. It left a lasting impact on her and it’s why she struggles with perfectionism. She’s been taken advantage of in various ways throughout her life. She’s wiser now, but the scars are left behind. She struggles to trust people and she’s a little more prickly than she used to be. She constantly bounces between being too full of herself and absolutely hating herself. She struggles to find any kind of middle ground. This can lead to mood swings that seem sudden to onlookers. 

Favorite Foods: Peaches, Roast Turkey, Potato Wedges, Peach Tart, Sambocade, and Lemon Cake

Favorite Drinks: Peach Tea, Apricot Cider, Zabaione, Lambic Beer, and Riesling

Favorite Flower: Globe Amaranths, Rhododendrons, Freesias, and Peonies

Height:  5'7"

Skin: Pink Tone 3

Hair:  Rose 5

Eyes:  Flame Pink 2

Horns: Red 5 and Grey Warm 1

Color Scheme:  She wears a lot of blues with gold embellishments. If she’s not in blue, she’s usually in green or white.

Fashion Sense: She is an indoor girl and it shows. Her clothing is not really meant for a lot of time running around outside. They’re delicate and beautifully embroidered. She’s well dressed, but not interested in popular fashion. She only cares about well-made outfits that flatter her.

Family

Darius Nightshade — He is a cleric of life and he works as a teacher. He’s reserved. On the surface, he seems like the “normal” parent, but he quietly supports Morgana’s reign of terror. He has an extreme gambling habit that keeps his family struggling financially, too.

Morgana Nightshade — Morgana is a wizard. She was once a respected adventurer who retired to have a family in Baldur’s Gate. She happily eats up any and all praise, even if it’s for something that didn’t actually happen. She’s the academic version of a stage mom. She pits her daughters against each other. She feels like her daughters owe her for birthing them and expects them to take care of her and Darius.

Adelaide Nightshade — She’s Rosalind’s older sister and she’s a respected wizard in Baldur’s Gate. She would love to take over Ramazith's Tower. She’s the golden child and relishes her position, sacrificing her relationship with Rosalind in the process. It’s not clear if she would choose to be a wizard without Morgana’s influence.

[thereviewstudio]

The Ridiculous 6 - Frank Coraci

Image taken from Netflix

Rating: 0 / 5

"The Ridiculous 6" is a film that falls squarely into the category of Adam Sandler's brand of humor, which can be an acquired taste for some and a complete turn-off for others. Released on Netflix in 2015, this Western comedy attempts to blend slapstick humor with a wild west backdrop, and the result is, unfortunately, a film that misses the mark on almost every level.

First and foremost, the film's plot is paper-thin and filled with tired clichés. It follows Tommy "White Knife" Stockburn (played by Sandler), a white man raised by Native Americans who embarks on a journey to rescue his long-lost outlaw father and, in the process, finds himself tangled up with his five half-brothers, each embodying a different stereotype. This film seems to revel in its lack of originality, recycling jokes and gags that have been done to death in countless other comedies.

One of the most glaring issues with "The Ridiculous 6" is its reliance on offensive humor. The film is rife with racial and cultural stereotypes, and it often feels like it's trying to shock and offend the audience for cheap laughs. The portrayal of Native American characters is particularly problematic, with characters named things like "Beaver Breath" and "Never Wears Bra" that serve no purpose other than to perpetuate harmful stereotypes.

The performances in the film are, for the most part, lackluster. Sandler himself seems disinterested in the material, sleepwalking through his role as the lead. The supporting cast, which includes actors like Terry Crews, Taylor Lautner, and Rob Schneider, doesn't fare much better. It's clear that many of them were simply cashing in a paycheck rather than delivering genuine comedic performances.

The film's attempts at humor often fall flat, relying on juvenile and crass jokes that feel out of place in a Western setting. There are moments of physical comedy that might appeal to some, but they are few and far between. The overall tone of the film is inconsistent, veering between slapstick humor and moments of attempted sentimentality, creating a jarring viewing experience.

Visually, "The Ridiculous 6" fails to capture the grandeur and beauty of the Western landscape. The cinematography and production design lack the authenticity and attention to detail that would have made the setting come alive. It feels like a missed opportunity to create a visually stunning Western comedy.

In conclusion, "The Ridiculous 6" is a film that relies on offensive humor, tired clichés, and lackluster performances. While it may find an audience among die-hard Adam Sandler fans or those with a penchant for lowbrow humor, it ultimately fails to deliver a satisfying comedic experience. It's a film that feels like a missed opportunity to create a genuinely funny and original Western comedy, and instead, it settles for mediocrity and offensiveness.

[trentsgirl]

— 🐑⋆⭒˚｡⋆

⟡ summary: basketball isn’t your boyfriend’s forte.

⟡ content: fluff, pretty short.

⟡ masterlist.

upon receiving an invitation to partake in a gathering with your boyfriend and his mates, you promptly leaped out of bed with utmost haste.

the nature of jude and his mates activities remained concealed from your knowledge, yet the notion of engaging in a basketball match, given their collective identity as football players, did not align with your expectations. nonetheless, you abstained from probing and instead embraced the spontaneous course of events.

as you gracefully approached the basketball court alongside jude, your hands intertwined, his mates exuded palpable enthusiasm, eagerly anticipating the commencement of the game.

given your limited interest in sports, particularly basketball, you opted to assume a more passive role, content to observe the proceedings from a comfortable distance.

trent, sharing a similar lack of enthusiasm for the game, found himself seated beside you.

regrettably, despite his expressed disinterest, the man’s grievances fell upon deaf ears, and he was forced into joining the group against his wishes.

as the game unfolded, fortune seemed to favor grealish’s team while jude’s team encountered difficulties.

despite your limited affinity for the sport, you couldn't resist offering a few words of encouragement to jude and his selected teammates, hoping to uplift their spirits.

upon hearing the sound of your voice, jude redirected his attention away from the game, fixating his gaze upon you with his customary charming smile.

in that moment, his focus was solely captivated by your presence, momentarily diverting his attention from the unfolding match.

jude, utterly enraptured by your captivating presence, found himself completely oblivious to the ongoing game.

unfortunately, due to his diverted attention, the ball intended as a pass struck his face with an unanticipated impact.

in the aftermath of the incident, whereby the ball veered out of bounds due to jude’s inadvertent distraction, his teammates promptly voiced their grievances, chastising him for his lack of attentiveness towards the game.

when trent, in a spirited manner, exclaimed to your boyfriend, “stay focused, jude! she’s not going anywhere!” you couldn’t resist emitting a lighthearted giggle.

[reddragon-cowboy]

for both niah & spike : Are there any certain scents, sounds, or textures that you like? What about ones that you dislike? / What are some weird interests or hobbies you have that people probably wouldn't expect you to have? / What scares you the most? And if it really happened... how would you deal with it?

☠ ― 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑛 𝐴𝑛𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑟. | open [ omg you get all my muses thoughts thanks you're the best <333 ]

Are there any certain scents, sounds, or textures that you like? What about ones that you dislike? /

❝ That's a funny question. . . ❞ his voice spoke flat with a heavy ounce of disinterest. Oh yes, definitely funny, one could observe the way boredom rests in his half-lidded eyes. There were various amounts of textures, scents, and sounds yet to be discovered by the human experience. The lists were endless and could go on and on for an eternity. Even for the small list of what he knew, laziness makes the bounty hunter less inclined to shift and maneuver through his mental memory bank that involves one's senses.

❝ But I guess I like. . . cigarette smoke, on account of I like to smoke, probably shouldn't tell Niah that though. ❞ He also like the smell of strawberries, rain, and roses. ❝ Mmm, music ? That's a nice sound. And something soft I guess. ❞

This was a bit easy, and unlike her bounty hunter friend, Niah willingly offers to share without much trouble. ❝ Mmmm, well, I do like the sound of birds, especially in the early morning hours. It's a sweet sound, I think. . . ❞ Memory recalls the numerous times where she woken up to natures harmonic melodies, a bit beyond glass barriers in which birds whistle and tweet a marvelous song that praises dawn morning-light in their own feathery language.

❝ The smell of rain is also nice, ❞ brown eyes veers only slightly off center, her gaze reminiscent of a faraway look where she gets caught in a daydream as rain pitter-patters fall behind her eyes, ❝ it's. . . relaxing for me. I usually sometimes read a book or work on some poetry when it rains. And I do like soft things. ❞

What are some weird interests or hobbies you have that people probably wouldn't expect you to have? /

Spike hears the question. He does. But he's ( purposely) slow to answer, instead, chooses to stick his pinky finger into his ear canal with a deep twist within. And his eyes fall close as he contemplates whether he wants to respond with any valid truth. ❝ You think you being a little nosey ? There's something you hope to gain from all these questions or something ? ❞

He was unfamiliar to this, the concept of offering pieces of himself that pertains to his interests, mainly due to the fact the people he surrounds himself with ( Jet & Faye) don't stop to ask questions to better know another. They all just kept to themselves in their own world, eyes drawn and pulled into the past as their reality, either drowning in the muck of it or running from it. ❝ I like to roller-skate and read. Is watching t.v and taking a nap also considered a hobby ? ❞

Her head tilts to one side, then the other side, all while being bombarded by a series of interests that skip about along with myriads of abstract thoughts. ❝ I don't think I'd call them weird. . . but. . . I do like wolves, ❞ she takes a second to pause, ❝ also snakes. Is that kinda weird to you ? ❞ She couldn't help the question that utters in mildness and curiosity about their perspective of her.

❝ I guess I only ask because people don't expect me to say I like those things and they usually ask me why I do, maybe because the animals seem like the opposite of myself from how people might see me as this . . weak girl or something. ❞ She starts to ramble, and something simmers in her earthy eyes where a touch of emotion starts to swell there. ❝ I don't know. . . but there is more to me than what I choose to give out. ❞

What scares you the most? And if it really happened... how would you deal with it?

Unlike the other questions that bobbled casual elements atop shallow waters, this one veered off into the deep end. A question that may or may not cause a light shudder to crawl up his spine once thoughts surfaces and swarm like a herd of locusts, reigns control of his mind. But his face leaves a blank canvas, lips pressed into a fine line and eyes hooded that brew something serious and sober within his empty gaze that became devoid of emotion, colorless.

This inquiry doesn't suit one's interests to bare a single fear that produces a silent scream in the darkest depths of his soul--he hears its echo within the soft yawn of restless nights where eyes weigh heavy and ache for slumber, when sleep doesn't descend yet hovers above him as does a cloudy mist. The ominous threat of transforming into something less human, lose another shred of whatever humanity he desperately holds onto by a loose thread, could easily slip through fingers smeared in blood or tear apart, break in two. No eagerness to share a slither of a crumb of it, couldn't as well in the same vein, bear to breathe aloud fear of harming a hair on her head .

❝ Think I'm done here for now. That's all you're gettin outta me. ❞

Full lips press together as her tongue lay flat and quiet, gaze slowly drawn to her lap, long lashes falling low to rest half-lid. She could never correctly tame the onslaught of emotions that rushes to cling onto every corner of her visage, ever visibly displayed for anyone's view-- how well the hand of sadness paints abstract strokes after dipping the brush in pensive watery color.

❝ I guess ending up alone. . . forgotten. ❞ And as something simply insignificant. Was all her heart could lament about this topic, not certain as to how she could deal with the prospect over a longer period.

[allabbottme]

The moment the second break was called, Anthony was flooded with relief. Twenty minutes were assigned per date, and so far he had worked his way around eight of them. The last of those select dates was a particular disaster. where all of Anthony's conversation starters and questions were met with a one-word response, or a brief flicker of disinterest. Anthony didn't want to seem rude. resulting in feeble attempts to remain upbeat while trying to pass through twenty-minutes. He was unsurprised to see the lady packing up her belongings as Anthony rested on the bar.

The drink waiting for him was particularly welcome, as was the warm conversation especially after such a gruelling date. Anthony barely even gave a second to greet his friend, focusing more on downing half of the pint that had been waiting for him. Catching his breath afterwards, Anthony sat down for a few moments. "Impossible, I don't take a bad photo."

"That last one was a disaster.." Anthony clarified, "the others have been alright." He acknowledged with a shrug. Previous to the latter date, his previous dates had been enjoyable. Irregardless, if Anthony didn't consider an immediate romantic spark, he had enjoyed some enlightening conversation with beautiful women. How could he ever complain? "I like a few of them." Anthony nodded, his answer vague. The women in attendance were wonderful, but Anthony couldn't help but veer his eyes towards the door. In slight hope that the one woman he wanted to attend would show.

Tiberius had found himself as more of a homebody since having married Cress. But he had no interest in going out when he could be at home with his wife, savoring their time together. Still on the night of Anthony’s speed dating event, he knew he had to be there. To be a wingman, to check in and make sure he had fun, whatever he was needed for. When Anthony hadn’t arrived on time he thought he’d need to go and drag his friend out himself. Though he was relieved when he had shown up, albeit late. So he’d given his friend a drink and sent him off to flirt and enjoy himself with the ladies who had shown.

He’d remained up at the bar, nursing his own drinking as he chatted with others up at the bar. All the while, checking in on his friend and how things were going. He chuckled as Anthony finally came up to the bar, slapping his friend on the back as he motioned for another drink for both of them. “Of course it was the fliers, I worked damn hard on them. Used the best photo of you I could find, though I’ll admit that bit was difficult.” He joked. “Now what about the dates, how are they going? Anyone caught your eye?”

[fangtaka]

William Cipher, The Gleeful Butler

WillDip Headcanons

—

- Will is an all-powerful demon, having once ruled several aspects of the demon universe before settling into a role as a butler. Although, he does keep the extent of his power to himself, with Dipper being the only one who has a small grasp of just how powerful Will is (and by this, even through the soul-bond, Will holds back a lot of his power from their shared bond). Luckily, Will uses said power to keep the family safe, but there is always a suspicion on Dipper’s part that Will could easily end the entire universe (and timeline) if he so willed it. The human doesn’t take Will’s presence (as a butler, or as his mate) lightly.

- Will prefers working as a butler, finding solace in finally having a permanent home to reside in. Having been a lone-roaming demon for so long, he finds comfort in the mundane schedule of the Gleeful family household. While he primarily serves Dipper, he does find comfort in following Mabel for her shopping sprees or serving as a shadowing supervisor for Stanford and Stanley’s escapades to prevent them from being harmed (if only for Dipper).

- Will tolerates the other butlers, but he doesn’t particularly care for them, especially when they veer too close to Dipper. Not only because Dipper and him are soul-bound, but for the premise that he doesn’t entirely trust, (or particularly like) other humans. While he tolerates humans as a whole, he feels particularly protective of the Gleeful family, and is very aware of Dipper’s safety at all times. The few humans who have come too close to Dipper often receive little warning before disappearing (and the other surviving staff learn all-too quickly to avoid the male twin).

- Will has little patience for mistakes, using magic to clean up broken plates or glass when the other staff may fumble. While he is not always verbal with his scolding, the other staff don’t take the lack of verbal response lightly. Will may seem cordial, the other staff have a mutual understanding to spend as little time around the butler as possible. The staff also don’t miss the aspect that Will has magic abilities, but they also know better than to do anything with said information (lest they disappear like those who disobeyed unsaid rules).

- Will tends to be fairly talkative with Dipper and Mabel primarily, but tends to remain curt or to-the-point with other humans, including the elder Gleeful members. While he has a soft spot for the younger family, he does tend to lose his patience with even Dipper at times, and returns to silence until he can take a break in his quarters for a period of time to cool down. Even he faces overstimulation, having been adjusted to a life of solitude for so long.

- Will ensures a schedule is always followed, especially Dipper’s. If something is on the schedule, or an errand arises, it must be done in a timely fashion. While Dipper is typically punctual, Mabel tends to be the opposite, leaving the butler often battling his own annoyance and frustration in lieu of pressing the female twin’s lack of punctuality. Even despite this, there are times Will may use magic to rush the female twin, often a reminder to her that he is more than just a family butler.

- While Will and Dipper are not affectionate publicly, both from Dipper’s disinterest in constant touch and Will’s preference toward professionalism in public, they do find time in the evenings to rest among each other. Be it with Dipper at his desk working on paperwork and Will resting with a book, or just resting together in mindless tasks, they enjoy the same space as a shared love language. While Mabel may comment on their lack of physical affection, both men find comfort in the presence of the other despite touch. However, that does tend to make their more tender moments far more vulnerable for the both of them.

- Will does face curiosity from other members of the demon race at his chosen profession as a butler. The few who have commented on it, even closer “friends” (read: allies that Will tolerates enough to keep alive), have been met with simple responses, often signaling for the end of the questioning. Many find comfort in the demon’s “retirement” from his ruling of the demonic worlds, but none have any less fear of the demon’s possible return to power.

[howlettbaz]

Full Name: Baz Howlett.

Nicknames: Baz.

Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male.

Birth place: Seattle, Washington.

How long have they been in town?: His whole life.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Housing: Swindelbrook St. Apartments.

Occupation: Mechanic.

Family: 1 younger sibling.

tws for death, violence, crime

QUICK OVERVIEW:

Ghoulish grown man that stemmed from being a tearaway teen, yup yup.

Fell into a bad crowd in high school and got involved in some dodgy ass business. Very much was and still is a big fan of quick cash. Would be the perfect mark for being recruited for an MLM if he didn't lack patience the way he does.

Not a violent guy by any means but he def got a little too big for his boots when money started  rolling in and pissed off the wrong people.

Joyriding since before he could even drive properly, was the fastest fucker when it came to stripping cars for parts which is why when he ended up going straight being a mechanic was about the only thing he could think to do that didn’t make him want to die of boredom. Though when he actually has to do his job, he does find himself veering pretty close.

Broke his mothers heart several times over with his life choices and his attitude and his dad always likes to remind him that thats what killed her (more aptly it was a stroke, but that doesn't mean those words still don't land).

Was the sole person with his best friend when he was killed over a drug dispute that went from an argument to a shooting and took off when he heard sirens. Never disclosed that to anyone and never got over it either.

Still wonders if he could have done something more that night to actually save him - kinda shut down for a long time over that, has done absolutely fuck all to process it really. Carrying that around still feels as real for him as helping carry the coffin at the funeral.

Very much uncomfortable with everything about himself and his life, most likely hasn't felt genuine joy in years.

Suffers from a terminal case of seeming out of place and disinterested.

If he cares then he cares but he’s just not the best at making that translate.

Got married on a whim during a two week stint of trying to live life to the max and is still trying to finalise that divorce.

PERSONALITY.

+ innovative, independent, methodical.

- disrespectful, selfish, untrustworthy.

FUN ADJACENT FACTS.

Swindelbrook St. Apartments anti even though he lives there, can’t stand the ruckus that’s always being caused by the 20 somethings that live there.

Drives a shitty car, especially for a mechanic, but he spends way too much time under the hood of everyone else’s to get caught up in that.

Thinks Grace and Frankie is the greatest show ever made. Jane Fonda stan for life.

Online menace!!!! Has a number of burner accounts on twitter so he can harass local politicians and dox Karens who've pissed him off at the garage.

Veers close to online identity theft at time if he really doesn't like someone because he'll make a burner with their name and image and start tweeting a stream of consciousness that usually gets him a fact check warning of a suspension.

Not materialistic but does wish he had a lawn so he could tell you to get off it.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

roommate of @murphyaltman

cousin of @zerolawrence

personal jigsaw the puppet on a tricycle to @thaddtilly

SPECIFIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

his (soon-to-be) former ex-wife. this would need heavy plotting, but could be fun to play out the disintegration of the dynamic/dissolution of the marriage!

GENERIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.

connections wise he’s pretty much an open book right now, but some baseline ideas that can be springboarded off are:

friendly.

a best friend / ride or dies / close friends / childhood friends / pseudo-siblings / friends / drunk friends / new friends / former roommate / tbh anyone who can put up with him for longer than 5 mins.

romantic

flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / unrequited crush (can be either way) / exes from high school / exes from his early twenties / exes on good terms.

antagonistic.

enemies / former (best) friends / exes on bad terms / frenemies / rivals / negative influence / people he's fought with online / people he's fought with in real life / people who simply fon't fuck with him.

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

Between You, Batman, and the Bat-Hound, I'll Take the Bat-Hound

A fic about Bruce Wayne deciding to adopt a service dog.

Read on ao3 here. Warning for major character death.

Bruce got Ace when Dick was ten. He’d started therapy when Dick was eight, but it had taken a while for it to occur to Bruce to get a service animal. Ace was a German Shepherd who had thrived in his emotional support training and had so far passed all his requirements with shining colors. Bruce and Dick had met Ace and a few other dogs in New York a month before their graduation and Dick had felt an immediate connection to the dog. Bruce had made a sizable donation to the program, paid for the full costs of the next 632 dogs that were going to be placed with owners for the next year, and a month later Bruce, Dick, and Alfred flew back to New York to pick up Ace and fly home.

For being only one year old, Ace was a dog who took his job very seriously. He had obediently followed Bruce from room to room, and didn’t wander off while they were in the Batcave, and instead sat patiently at Bruce’s feet.

Dick adored Ace, and it was obvious Ace loved Dick. Ace technically had his own bed, though Ace actually spent half his nights sleeping with Dick and half his nights curled up on Bruce’s bed. Dick always tried to come with Bruce for Ace’s walks and always made sure Ace got presents when the holidays rolled around. Ace’s favorite toy was a Batman plush Dick bought for him, and Ace carried it with him everywhere. Ace stoically endured it when a 12-year-old Dick dressed him in a Batman costume for Halloween. The picture of the dog was hung in the hallway leading to the kitchen, where other important family photos resided, with the caption “Ace the Bat-Hound” in Dick’s handwriting. Ace curled up with Dick whenever Dick had nightmares about snapping wires.

Bruce loved his serious and stoic dog.

Jason was wary of Ace when he first came to the manor. In his experience, most big dogs were threats he had to guard against. Bruce had combatted this by letting Jason come with him to the office one day while Ace was working, his bright red service vest on. By the end of the day, Jason was significantly more comfortable with the dog, and it wasn’t odd to see Jason holding one-sided conversations with Ace while ranting about his homework.

Ace took his responsibilities just as seriously when it came to Jason as he did when it came to Bruce and Dick. He spent most nights in Jason’s bedroom, who had horrible night terrors. When Jason was at school, Ace spent his time in Dick’s room, curled up on the bed with his Batman toy.

When Jason died, Ace stayed attached to Bruce’s side every minute that he could. When Bruce was on patrol, he paced the hallway in front of Jason’s locked door, and sometimes Alfred would cry into his fur. Ace spent more time in the Batcave, waiting for Bruce to come home, his head resting on his crossed paws. Alfred stayed alert for Ace to come get him when Bruce was injured (which was often).

Tim’s mother had claimed an allergy to dogs and cats, so Tim had grown up with neither. He knew, logically, that Bruce Wayne had a service dog, but he hadn’t been prepared for the reality of an animal that seemed to be what happened if Bruce Wayne’s personality had been put into the body of a dog. The first time Tim heard Bruce really laugh had been when Ace had tugged Tim to the floor while wrestling over a rope, and then had climbed onto Tim and whined apologetically. When Tim’s parents left on trips after only being home a few weeks and he collapsed into the bed in his spare bedroom at Wayne Manor that was slowly becoming his bedroom, Ace would lay with him, on top of Tim’s legs. Ace was too well-trained to jump in greeting, but his tail always wagged when he saw Tim again, and when Dick began to come around more Ace could barely contain himself from following his first kid around the manor.

David Cain had used dogs in his training of Cassandra. When Bruce had first seen the horrific bite scar in Cass’s upper arm, he’d gritted his teeth and within the week took down a burgeoning dog fighting ring.

He thought about doing what he did with Jason, letting Cass spend a few days with him and Ace to let Cass feel more comfortable, but Cass had had any and all indications of fear trained out of her, so Bruce couldn’t even be sure she was even afraid of them. Ace, clever as he was, seemed to pick up on Bruce’s tension, and was always on his best behavior when Cass was around. While Bruce was still mulling it over, he came across Cass and Ace in the library, Cass with her phone leaned up against Ace and watching a video while Ace sat quietly with his Batman toy, his tail wagging. Bruce quickly teamed up with Ace to teach him the ASL signs for his commands, and soon enough Cass started to take Ace with her whenever she left the manor to travel into Gotham, Ace wearing his vest with pride. Ace was a big hit with the Gotham City Adult Beginner’s Ballet Class, who were very careful to not distract Ace from his job.

Ace met Krypto once. Ace was unimpressed. Bruce shared half his sandwich with Ace as a reward.

The first time Red Hood was invited back to the Batcave, Ace had sniffed him, settled at his feet, and had refused to leave his side until Jason left. Ace once again took up vigil outside Jason’s door, so Alfred unlocked it for him. Alfred sat on the edge of Jason’s bed, and Ace had put his head in Alfred’s lap and closed his eyes while Alfred pet him. Ace went to retrieve his toy and then slept in Jason’s room for the first time in several years.

When Damian came to the manor, Ace was an old dog, with grey around his muzzle. Sometimes he had trouble going down the stairs. Bruce did not miss Damian’s quickly hidden interest in the dog, and had kneeled down to introduce them.

When Dick, Damian, and Alfred moved to the penthouse, Damian had quickly commandeered responsibility for taking care of Ace. He prepared specially made food for him, took him on his walk, and defaulted to talking about Ace whenever he could.

For Ace, the strangest part about moving back to the manor and seeing Bruce again for the first time in a year was learning to live with other animals. When Titus first arrived, he was small enough to walk underneath Ace, but he quickly grew into his oversized paws and soon the Great Dane dwarfed the German Shepherd. Titus loved Ace, and while Ace tried to act disinterested, he was clearly fond of Titus, too. For Halloween that year, Ace was once again forced into his Batman costume by his first kid while Titus happily played in his Robin costume. Alfred the cat was apparently supposed to be Catwoman. Ace grumpily sat by Bruce while Bruce sympathetically patted the old dog on the head and then he spent the night in Bruce’s bed when he came back from patrol.

When Duke joined the family, Ace was a quiet, old dog with drooping eyes. He couldn’t come out with Duke because he got tired easily, but whenever Duke visited his parents Ace would spend the rest of the day with him. He carried his Batman toy with him everywhere. He was a pleasant companion while Duke did homework, and didn’t seem to care when Duke blasted his music. In the afternoons, while everyone else was asleep, Ace came down with Duke to the Batcave and waited patiently for Duke to suit up for patrol, and was always there when Duke came back.

One day, Duke and Damian came home from school to find Steph, Cass, and Tim huddled at the base of the grand staircase, whispering. Duke and Damian shared a look before approaching them, and when Damian made a loud “tt” noise, Tim and Steph jumped and whirled around while Cass turned sedately. Damian stared at the trio judgmentally while they all looked at each other. Duke noticed Ace at their feet.

“Ace can’t make it up the stairs,” Tim finally said, looking unsettled. Duke’s attention immediately snapped to Ace, who was laying down just beside the first step.

“Can he walk at all?” Damian asked.

“He followed us from the living room,” Steph said, “but he was limping a little. And then he couldn’t make it up the stairs after us.”

Damian chewed his lip, uncharacteristically unsure. “We should call Father,” he finally said, “and bring his bed downstairs. And his toy.”

Steph veered back to the living room to fetch his toy while Cass and Duke went upstairs to get his bed out of Bruce’s room. Damian gently shepherded Ace to the kitchen with Alfred while Tim called Bruce, his voice quiet in the somber mood of the kitchen while the kids lingered there.

Bruce, who was at Wayne Enterprises, broke several traffic laws to get home within half an hour to meet his family in the kitchen. He crouched to check over Ace the same way Damian did, and Ace’s tail began to wag weakly as soon as he saw Bruce.

“He seems alright apart from the stairs,” Damian reported. “He ate and drank at his usual times, though he does appear more lethargic than usual.”

His other children and Alfred watched Bruce and Bruce ran his hand over Ace’s side, thinking.

“I’ll keep an eye on him tonight,” Bruce decided. “If he gets worse, I’ll take him to the vet. I’ll inform Dick, Jason, and Barbara to cover my patrol route.”

Duke shared an alarmed look with Cass. Bruce almost never passed up a night of patrol without much cajoling.

That night, Bruce moved his things downstairs and took up residence with Ace in one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor. Over the next month, visitors trickled in one at a time.

Dick seemed to be over every other day. He bought Ace a Robin plush that quickly settled beside his old and ragged Batman plush, right in the center of Bruce and Ace’s new bed. Dick brought his daughter, too, and she happily petted Ace and played with him while Ace bore it with the quiet dignity he always did.

Barbara visited, and she sat on the couch with Ace in the living room while she coded and he snored. At dinner, she dropped food underneath the table for him.

Titus spent his mornings while the kids were at school with Ace, cuddling with him and trying to play. Once, Ace had growled ferociously when Titus tried to take his Batman toy, and Damian had retreated to his room in tears after he’d pulled Titus away. Ace had apologised the next day by letting Titus play with the toy, though he was careful not to let it out of his sight.

After patrol one night Bruce came home and Ace was on his dog bed, asleep. Bruce couldn’t recall a time when Ace hadn’t either stayed up to wait for Bruce or gone to sleep with one of the children. Bruce picked Ace’s toys up off of their bed and set them by Ace, and then curled up around his dog for a brief minute and had fallen asleep on the dog bed.

Jason had carried Ace up the stairs and they spent the whole day in Jason’s room, and when Jason got bored of that they’d wandered into everyone else’s rooms, and found an old ball hiding underneath Damian’s bed. Ace had panted happily when they reached Bruce’s room, so they’d spent the day watching movies on Bruce’s bed.

Cass invited some of her old friends from the ballet group and Ace had perked up. They’d laughed and spent a few hours with him, and at the end of the visit Cass had been the proud owner of a bag of treats for Ace. That night, she spent several hours during patrol following every stray dog she found, giving them food and water when she could.

Steph bought Ace increasingly ridiculous doggy accessories when inspiration struck and taking numerous selfies with him, matching sunglasses on their face. She sent every one to Bruce.

Sometimes, Alfred the cat would take advantage of Ace’s now docile attitude to sit on him and take a nap.

Tim managed to coax Ace out onto the manor grounds on a particularly sunny day and Tim sketched out blueprints while Ace lay pressed against his side. The sun seemed to give him enough energy to play fetch with a stick for a few throws, and Tim recorded him on his phone and then sent it to the family group chat. Bruce reacted to the video with a heart.

Damian spent any time not in school or on patrol with Ace. He quietly followed Ace from room to room, from sibling to sibling and during their monthly family movie night he sat on the floor with Ace and the rest of their siblings and patted his belly and cooed at him about what a good boy he was. A few times, Bruce had gone upstairs after the rest of his children had already gone to sleep and found Damian asleep in his bed with Ace.

While they waited for the rest of their family to return home from patrol, Alfred sat with Ace in Bruce and Ace’s room and gently pet him while he read a book.

Duke carried Ace down to the Batcave after his afternoon patrol while the rest of the house’s occupants were sleeping. They sat in front of a display case containing one of the old batsuits, and Ace nosed the glass. Duke left him for a moment to find the current cape and wrapped Ace in it. Duke carried Ace back upstairs, cape and all, at the end of Bruce’s afternoon nap and dropped Ace off next to Bruce. It was a blatant violation of Alfred’s “no uniforms in the house” rule, but Duke figured Alfred would make an exception.

That night, Batman went out in a slightly older version of the cape.

On the last day, Bruce stayed home because Ace wouldn’t sleep or eat or move and just lay on their bed, whining intermittently. Bruce’s hands shook when he called his children who weren’t living at the manor, and on the way to the vet Duke and Damian sat with Ace in the back. Alfred was on his phone, texting various members of the family, and he kept turning in his seat to smile sadly at the dog and reach back to pet him. Bruce’s eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror to watch his dog.

They waited until all of the children came. Dick was already in tears when he and Jason came, and Jason’s were red and puffy. Everyone was teary-eyed by the time Tim finally arrived, apologetic and frantic. The entire Wayne family gathered in the back to wait with Ace.

“Wait,” Dick said, his voice rough and nearly hysterical. “His toy, did anyone get his Batman toy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened for a moment before Duke shrugged off his backpack he brought from the manor. He pulled out Ace’s Batman toy, the cape Ace had been sleeping with, folded up to look like a blanket and finally, his old service dog vest, slightly faded after years of washing. Duke handed them all to Bruce who laid them out beside Ace. when Bruce gently set down the Batman plush beside Ace, Ace ignored it in favor of nuzzling into Bruce’s hand.

This is what caused Jason to make a loud hiccuping sob and burst into tears, and then all the kids followed suit.

“Children,” Alfred began, choked up, “we must make a valiant effort to… to...” he trailed off, tears dripping down his cheeks.

His children clung to each other as the vet came in, and Bruce pet Ace’s scruff while someone clung to his hand.

Bruce and Ace looked at each other. A man and his service dog. The Batman and The Bat-Hound.

“You were the best dog a man could ever ask for,” Bruce whispered when Ace closed his eyes.

***

Six months later, Bruce was waylaid by his eldest child while on the way to work.

“Did someone ask for a valet?” Dick grinned, and Bruce grunted and got in the backseat so he could talk to his granddaughter. A few minutes later, Alfred got into the passenger seat and Bruce’s trepidation grew.

“Dick,” he said, “you know I hate surprises.”

“Yeah, Bruce,” Dick said, “but it’s a good one this time, I promise.”

“The last time you said that someone painted the Batmobile pink.”

Dick laughed. Bruce turned to his granddaughter. “I swear I will never attempt to throw you a surprise party as long as I live.”

Mary gurgled at him.

“Hmm,” Bruce said. “Yes, you understand me.”

An hour later, they pulled into the parking lot of the GCPD police academy and they got out of the car.

“You said this was a good surprise, chum.”

“It is!” Dick said as he unbuckled Mary.

“I can see Steph’s car across the parking lot. And Barbara’s and Tim’s and Jason’s bike. If this is a surprise party I will never forgive any of you.”

Dick scoffed. “It is not anywhere close to your birthday.”

“A perfect time to strike.”

As they walked into the lobby, a man straightened from where he was talking to the person manning the front desk.

“Jim,” Bruce’s smile came a little easier as he walked over to shake his hand. “How’s retirement treating you?”

Jim sighed. “Barbara says I can’t complain because I was lucky enough to retire. It’s so awful I almost miss being a beat cop. Almost.”

Jim turned and started to walk down the hall. “Your kids are waiting for you,” he stopped by a nondescript door.

“I suppose you can’t tell me what this is about?”

“Well, that would ruin the surprise wouldn’t it, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed, but turned and opened the door.

“I knew it was a surprise party.”

All of his kids were piled into the small office, and they laughed at him. Barbara was in the middle of the room, a box by her feet, looking distinctly pleased with herself.

“Hi, Bruce,” she said, and then pulled out a small German Shepherd from the box.

Bruce said nothing.

“Don’t freak out,” Dick said, too late.

“Too late,” Jason said.

“I’m not freaking out,” Bruce said.

“You look like you’re freaking out a little,” Duke said apologetically.

Bruce abruptly smoothed his face.

“One of my dad’s friends helps run the K9 training. This little one was a bit ‘too friendly’ for K9 work,” Barbara said, patting the puppy’s head, whose tongue was lolling out. “So I asked if we could take her instead.”

“Guess what her name is,” Jason said, gleeful.

“Every litter usually gets themed names,” Barbara said, smiling, “And this litter’s theme was a certain group of Bat-themed vigilantes…”

“Oh, no,” Bruce said.

“Oh, yes,” Jason said.

Barbara lifted up the German Shepherd, “say hello to Robin.”

Bruce sighed but still reached out to pick up the dog. He lifted her up and stared at her face while she panted happily at him. Bruce sighed.

“Did we crush this surprise party or what?” Steph said. “Up top!” and Cass and Tim gave her a high-five.

Bruce cradled the dog to his chest and stroked her fur. Damian reached over to scratch her head.

“Being Robin is a very important responsibility,” Damian told the dog, “but I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“It turns out all of the puppies washed out of their police training. I’ve never been more proud,” Jason said.

Cass turned to Bruce. “I want the Black Bat puppy,” she signed.

Bruce hid his smile in his new Robin’s fur.

[ballsballsbowls]

Obligatory mentions that I've read one single book in the genre and I don't even know if she's a particularly popular author in the genre (though she seems to be pretty prolific, if that counts), and that expressing disinterest in a kink isn't a judgement call.

Also going to start with I read the entire book, so obviously the writing was decent, and read it in about 2 days (for ~200 pages), so I was having fun to some degree. Word count wise, I'd says the sex scenes are comparable to the average romance novel per total word count (I was hoping for a more erotica-esque ratio). My notes for the book in my spreadsheet are basically that I'd read another book by her, just probably not another book about aliens. I bought it for $0.00, so I feel like I got my money's worth.

I went in hoping for a BDSM and/or erotic humiliation angle and/or creative use of a MMMF premise (I'd even be okay if it veered into Gor-esque territory), and got what I described to my impromptu book club as essentially three different books stitched together. Book one is about 50 pages and hit on some of those touchpoints; book two is a straight romance with romance plot beats and a light veneer of scifi; book three is breeding kink/pregnancy fetish where it's obvious she wanted to write about aliens so she could write a comically implausible amount of cum.

The first two sections were good for different reasons and the third section is kind of where she lost me. They don't even have weird dicks!

I doubt the book I read specifically will scratch your itch to read Bloodchild again for the first time, but who knows? There's definitely multiple authors in the space and maybe of them is aiming closer to that than this one.

I commented on the alien vs monster genres as kind of a mirror of the shifter vs vampire genres because it hadn't really occurred to me before reading it that the alien romance was going to lean so heavily on the same sort of tropes that I've come to associate with "about as right-leaning as you can get and still be writing pornography."

You know, where the guys are all comically buff types who can kill you with their bare hands and congregate in either an extended family unit or paramilitary type group (which is presented as a normal and obvious and not at ALL weird job to have) and there's a huge focus on them having as many kids as possible for whatever plot reason and having a fortified housing compound worthy of being just outside of Salt Lake City.

The book softened it up by opining a good bit in the middle on the nature of misogyny and capitalism (and ends with our heroine starting what amounts to an NGO to mitigate some of the poverty on her home planet), but I don't know if it evens out stuff like, "All three heroes AND our heroine are virgins, but it is absolutely NOT a fetish thing."

To cap this off, this was my summary to my nearest and dearest and one of the things that wouldn't post yesterday:

>looking for free erotica/romance >see free 'stolen by aliens' book >ask if it's humiliation fetish alien Spicy Romance or pregnancy fetish alien Spicy Romance >'it's a good romance, B.' >pregnancy fetish

I tried to make a post that I suspect would rank among the worst and most unnecessary posts in recent tumblr memory, when tumblr crashed. Crashed crashed.

And then did it twice more with two more drafts of the same post.

So, I took that as a hint that perhaps it really was the most unnecessary tumblr post of 2024.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Yay! I’m so happy prompts are open again! I love your writing! How about a scenario where NMJ dies in Nightless City either due to MY’s machinations and WRH just takes the chance to execute him. Now there are 3 clans being led by young inexperienced leaders who lost their parents or parent figures in the war

ao3

It wasn’t that Jiang Cheng hadn’t liked Nie Huaisang well enough, when they were all learning together in the Cloud Recesses. Anyone who had the energy to keep up with Wei Wuxian – and just enough good sense to help veer him off the really bad ideas, even if he did keep egging him on in regards to the medium-grade bad ones – was good news in his books.

But liking him didn’t mean respecting him, and the fact that Nie Huaisang hadn’t participated much in the war – couldn’t participate much – had led Jiang Cheng to discount him more or less entirely.

That’s what made it all the more surprising when Nie Huaisang ended up being the unofficial leader of the three remaining Great Sects in opposing Jin Guangshan after the war.

Jiang Cheng would have thought it’d be Lan Xichen, who was the oldest of them. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been included in their classes, already out and about on sect business, but Jiang Cheng had always felt like Lan Xichen was a generation older than the rest of them, even though he was only three years older than they were. At worst, he’d figured it would himself, since he had the experience of rebuilding a sect from nothing and had led men to battle and war - he had experience with being forced to be the one in charge, if nothing else.

Anyone, really, except Nie Huaisang.

“He’s up to something vile again,” Nie Huaisang said without preamble, tone clipped and eyes hard as they always were these days. He settled down at Jiang Cheng’s table and picked up a cup of tea with disinterest, nodding in recognition of the fact that it had been his favorite blend when they were younger. Possibly he didn’t have favorites anymore. 

“What now?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“This Xue Yang business,” Nie Huaisang said, which wasn’t a surprise at all. “It just keeps getting worse and worse. I really don’t like it.”

“You don’t like anything, Nie-xiong,” Wei Wuxian teased, bringing over some snacks they both liked.

If it was anyone else, Jiang Cheng would have snapped at Wei Wuxian, telling his martial brother to have more respect, to call Nie Huaisang by his proper title – Sect Leader Nie, since he didn’t have a personal title – except no one called Nie Huaisang Sect Leader Nie if they could help it, not after the example he’d made of the first few who’d done it, trying to ingratiate themselves with him.

As far as Nie Huaisang was concerned, his brother – who was still in the coma he had fallen into after Yangquan, after the Nightless City, after what should have been the end of the war but wasn’t, after everything – was the one and only Sect Leader Nie.

That was also around the time he stopped smiling, and the time the rest of the world discovered that under Nie Huaisang’s smiles and tears and frills and overly indulged laziness was the same core of steel and rage that his brother was famous for.

“Are you going to keep talking nonsense or are you going to help stop it?” Nie Huaisang asked Wei Wuxian, harsh as always, and Wei Wuxian obediently sat down and shut up.

Something Jiang Cheng had yet to figure out how to get Wei Wuxian how to do. He was desperately jealous in some ways, but his normal thing about other people being better than him at anything was heavily muted by the fact that it apparently took Nie Huaisang being, well, like that in order to accomplish it.

Like he was all alone in the world, having lost the only family he had left.

For what might be the first time in his life, Jiang Cheng would prefer to be second-best if it meant he didn’t have to face the same sort of loss. It had been bad enough losing his parents, but if he lost Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian as well…

He might have, too, if Nie Huaisang hadn’t all but stormed the Lotus Pier in a rage when Jiang Cheng had failed to reject Jin Guangshan’s request to expel Wei Wuxian from his sect as quickly as Nie Huaisang would have liked. Jiang Cheng had even (secretly) been considering it, knowing that Wei Wuxian agreed with the idea, thinking that maybe distancing themselves in public and remaining close in private would be the only way -

Nie Huaisang had put a rapid end to those thoughts.

With Nie Huaisang at his side, and even Lan Wangji having arrived from who-knows-where, Jiang Cheng had had the confidence to tell Jin Guangshan that the internal affairs of his sect were none of his business and that the furthest he’d go in regards to Wei Wuxian’s actions would be to offer to pay recompense for taking the Wen sect prisoners.

Obviously the Jin sect had refused, not wanting to seem like they were pinching pennies, and in the end it had actually turned out fairly well as a political stratagem, smaller sects appreciating the way he stood up for himself and established a precedent for resisting such pressure. Jiang Cheng really wouldn’t have thought it.

(He hadn’t been allowed time to think – Jin Guangshan had been leading him around by the nose, and only Nie Huaisang’s choler had snapped him out of it before he made some very bad decisions.)

“A little nonsense isn’t so bad,” Lan Xichen said from the door, waving at them not to rise to salute him as he entered, followed closely by Lan Wangji. He smiled at Wei Wuxian in particular – they were all but brothers-in-law now, given how much time Lan Wangji had been spending at the Lotus Pier, even if the relationship wasn’t official yet. “It adds a little levity and laughter to life.”

“I promise to laugh when you finally give me Meng Yao’s head,” Nie Huaisang said, and Lan Xichen’s smile abruptly crumpled. “The way you should have back then.”

“Do you want to work together or not?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang irritably. “Drop it.”

“Certainly I will drop it, as soon as the honorable Zewu-jun stops telling me to laugh more. He wanted someone to smile at him and he got it, and all it cost him was my brother - and supposedly his - so you’ll have to forgive me for not being full of levity and laughter.” Nie Huaisang accepted a snack pressed into his hand by Wei Wuxian. “My spies indicate that the Tingshan He Sect – about sixty or seventy in total – have disappeared. Very shortly after their young master had a dispute with Jin Guangyao, as you might recall.”

Jiang Cheng flinched. “The entire sect?”

“The entire sect.”

Wei Wuxian muttered something extremely unpleasant under his breath.  “On what excuse?” he demanded. “He nearly got me kicked out of the cultivation world over the Wen sect, fine, but Tingshan He? He Su fought in the Sunshot Campaign! What could they possible said that he did to deserve it?”

“He publicly opposed Jin Guangshan’s bid to be chief cultivator, and Jin Guangyao’s new position as his heir, isn’t that enough?” Nie Huaisang said, heavily sarcastic. “I think what you should be asking is what the children did to deserve such a fate, or the babes in arms…oh, I’m sorry, Zewu-jun. Would you prefer that I be smiling while I talk about it? I understand that’s your preference. Forgive my insufficient levity; I’m afraid I cannot match your beloved sworn brother - you have only the one, if I recall correctly? - for such talents.”

Lan Xichen looked tired.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t blame him – Nie Huaisang had a tongue as vicious as Jiang Cheng’s mother, and he didn’t say that lightly – but on the other hand, there wasn’t much he could say to get Nie Huaisang to stop, either. 

After all, it was Lan Xichen who had refused Nie Huaisang’s immediate demand for Jin Guangyao’s head in the immediate aftermath when the whole debacle at the Nightless City had been revealed, one of the Nie sect disciples having survived nearly getting murdered long enough to testify as to what had happened within the walls, and, due to Lan Xichen’s prevarication, there had been time for Jin Guangshan to adopt Jin Guangyao back into the Jin sect.

After that, he became untouchable.

And then –

Well, then a lot of things had happened.

Jin Guangshan’s overreach and ambition were clear from the start, of course, more or less from the second he realized that the other three Great Sects were being led by the untried, inexperienced younger generation. Jiang Cheng had a good reputation, but he’d been fairly hamstrung politically by his sister’s decision to marry Jin Zixuan, not wanting to risk her being mistreated by her new family – Lan Xichen was a novice sect leader and still friends of a sort of with Jin Guangyao, at least back then – the other sects were too small to do much –

No wonder Nie Huaisang had changed so much. They hadn’t left him much choice.

“Something will need to be done about it,” Lan Xichen said. “An entire sect…he’s really gone too far.”

Nie Huaisang nodded sharply. In his opinion, Jiang Cheng knew, Jin Guangshan had gone too far long ago, and the rest of them were only just starting to catch up…

A bit like Nie Mingjue had been, with Wen Ruohan.

Damnit, maybe they should just listen to the Nie sect.

“Where will it end?” Lan Wangji asked from his place next to Wei Wuxian.

“War, of course,” Nie Huaisang said, and they all flinched. “Would you prefer to roll over and give in? I’m sure Jin Guangshan would be willing to promise you leniency if you turned over his grandson, Jiang Cheng, though you might have to execute your sister for having kidnapped him in the first place – even if she didn’t know she was pregnant when she returned to the Lotus Pier.”

“We’re willing to go to war,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice hot with anger, then realized he was being presumptuous again and looked over at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him – at least he was trying – and nodded. “There’s no way we’re handing Jin Ling over, much less jiejie. But don’t make it seem like we have more influence than we do. After all, now that Jin Guangyao is the official heir, they have Jin Rusong, don’t they?”

“Not for long,” Nie Huaisang said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him in dismay.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, aghast. “You haven’t –”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, really,” Nie Huaisang said, and threw a letter at his face.

Lan Xichen plucked it out of the air and looked it over, his face paling as he read it.

“Your spies again?” Jiang Cheng asked Nie Huaisang. He seemed to have an endless supply of them.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “My brother never stopped sending them out, even if he barely ever used them, and he never asked them of anything that might make them break cover. Some of them have been undercover for over ten years – they’re very good.”

Lan Xichen put the letter down. He looked sick, which meant that Jiang Cheng really did not want to see what was in that letter. 

Unfortunately, what he wanted had long ago become not especially important. He was sect leader. He had to face all the worst that people could do, the awful, the ugly, the terrible –

Wei Wuxian nudged him in the side. “Can I?”

“Go for it,” Jiang Cheng said, relieved by the reprieve. He really didn’t know what he’d do without Wei Wuxian – he didn’t know what he was thinking, that he thought he could protect his sect better without him rather than with him. Nie Huaisang’s furious and despairing rant had been extremely convincing, even if it had been more than a little traumatizing. 

Especially in regards to his predictions as to the ultimate fate of Wei Wuxian and his lost sheep once he no longer had Jiang sect protection...

Wei Wuxian picked up the letter, looked at it, and blanched, which – wow. Jiang Cheng really didn’t want to know what was in there that would make the Yiling Patriarch look like he was going to throw up. Not even the reports about Xue Yang using people’s tongues to make tea had done that.

Wei Wuxian passed Lan Wangji the letter and put his hands down onto his lap, knuckles white. “He’s going to murder his own son.”

It took Jiang Cheng a second to parse that – to understand that the ‘he’ referred to Jin Guangyao rather than Jin Guangshan, as the latter wouldn’t have been a surprise – and then he jerked as if stabbed. “Not Rusong!”

Everyone looked exceedingly grim.

“That – fucker!”

“The idea is to blame us – or anyone resisting him, really – for the death,” Nie Huaisang said. “Then exterminate us as a consequence. Do you have any more of that cake? It was good.”

Lan Wangji wordlessly passed some over.

“So, getting back on the subject: war,” Nie Huaisang continued briskly. Unperturbed, almost, by what they’d just discovered, but then again he’d known longer, or maybe it was only that it didn’t surprise him the way it did them. “One way or the other, whether it’s us starting it or them; it was always going to end in war, as I told you.”

He took a bite of the cake, swallowed it.

“Imminent war, in fact,” he added. “Regardless of what the rest of you decide, I’m not going to sit around to waste my time talking until it’s too late. I’m going to kidnap Rusong – and maybe Qin Su, who knows, I haven’t yet determined how in-the-know she is – and that’ll probably kick the war off right away. I’m here to tell you to get ready.”

He swallowed another bite of cake. “Or, well, to get ready, or get out of my way. You can pick.”

“We’ll be ready,” Jiang Cheng said.

He didn’t want another war – but surely anything had to be better than this.

Lan Xichen caught his gaze over the table. He seemed tired, but also – hopeful. Even if all he was hoping for was an end to all the uncertainty that had been torturing them.

“We’ll be there, too,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded encouragingly at him. “Just tell us what to do.”

“Don’t worry,” Nie Huaisang said. “I will.”

[enhyqenn]

all for you : more confused than before

note : things are going to start picking up soon hehe *rubs hands together evily*

“What do you mean ‘we don’t need to take the pills anymore?’” Jake asked as he and Selene entered the living room. ”We’ve taken them every night since we’ve lived here.”

“It’s exactly as it sounds,” your guardian remarked, wondering why her children were questioning her. “You no longer need to take the prescription.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in skepticism. Ms. Cartier had told you all when you were younger that the pills were to subdue an unnamed illness you all supposedly had. That’s specifically what this house took in; kids with said illness. And, sure, you all wondered what this unnamed illness was from time to time, but the questions stopped when there was a common realization that she was not giving out answers.

“What about me? Do I still have to take the tonic?” you asked from your spot behind the couch. In addition to the pills that everyone took, you also had to down a shot of a red liquid Ms. Cartier called “juice” with your name in front of it. You and the others had always wondered what she had you drinking, but the subject was never brought up in front of her. Ultimately, you trusted what she was giving you. Hell, you trusted her, but only with the sickening thought that you had no choice but to.

“Yes. I put it on the kitchen counter, go take it,” Ms. Cartier instructed, sending you away with the flick of her hand in an unpretentious dismissal.

Nodding, you veered off to the kitchen, the sound of the boys’ voices beginning to fade into the background. You spotted the clear cup, no larger than your big toe, with the red liquid inside it. Grabbing it, you consumed its contents in one gulp.

As you set the small cap in the sink, you braced your hands on the granite counter. Why were you just now starting to question everything? You had grown up in such a safe and secure household, yet things were starting to feel unstable and ambiguous with all the sudden changes to your life.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind you, startling your person back into reality with a few blinks.

You whipped around in surprise, only to sag your shoulders when you see Selene standing there. “Oh. It’s you.”

Selene ignored your blunt disinterest and pointed at the empty medicine cap. “What is that?”

“Medicine,” you said candidly. What interest did she have in what you were taking? Going to step around her, she slid from her original spot, blocking the exit of the kitchen.

“But what is it for?” she persisted, leaning forward in emphasis.

“What do you think? An illness,” you scoffed, already growing annoyed. “Now please get out of my way.”

“Not until you correctly answer my question; what is it for?” Selene repeated, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows. As she stared expectantly into your eyes, it was then that you noticed she was about an inch or so taller than you.

“I don’t know, alright. I take it without question,” you answered, taking a step forward, suddenly irritated by her mini interrogation. “There, I answered. Now move.”

“Why? Why do you take it? She could be poisoning you,” Selene implied, making you instantly roll your eyes.

“What good would that do? And I’m alive, aren’t I? So obviously it’s not poison, but I do thank you for your concern on my well-being,” you said disdainfully, starting to grow bored of this conversation. “Why do you suggest something so absurd, anyway?”

“Because it’s true. My old caretaker did the same thing; she drugged all us kids,” she told you. It seemed as if she wanted your pity, your remorse. But you had none to give.

“The same ones that were apparently killed by a bunch of soldiers?” you asked, a doting smile beginning to form as you let out a low chuckle, shaking your head at such obvious lies. “Where did you even come from, Selene?”

“Oh,” she seemed to be taken back by your reply. “So Riki and Sunoo told you about the little conversation we had earlier?”

“Yeah. They also mentioned that you kept asking about me. What did you want to know, hm?” you snapped, leaning against a kitchen counter as you looked at her buoyantly.

Selene didn’t say anything, her eyes giving away the fact that she was sifting through her thoughts, trying to find the right words.

“What are you doing here?” you asked genuinely. If you wanted answers, you figured that there was no other way you were going to get them unless questions were asked.

“I came here to find what I need,” she said simply, as if that answer didn’t lead to even more questions. Turning before you could ask what she meant, Selene walked off, leaving you standing in the kitchen even more confused than you had entered it.

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