#but they will play heavily into the story

[ardentblossomings]

youngnoblewoman

This is fascinating if you’re into math or sociology or computer programming or all of the above.

dumgold

Don’t check just this - check out all of Nicky Case’s work. They’re a brilliant creator and I heavily recommend checking out at least one of their projects.  Their website can be found here.

Parable of the Polygons - an interactive experiment that shows how tiny individual biases can collectively cause segregation on a massive scale.

To Build a Better Ballot - an interactive experiment that shows the alternatives to the voting systems we currently use and how they can be more representative and democratic, along with their faults.

Coming Out Simulator - a short interactive story/novel about coming out, based off of Case’s own experiences. Not one I’ve played myself but still one I can recommend.

Loopy - a very simple but useful tool to show how systems interact with each other and how things can self-propagate.

We Become What We Behold - “ a game about news cycles, vicious cycles, infinite cycles.“ A short five-minute game about news and media. Warnings for violence, blood, death and stress.

Okay, you need to make sure you play this game at some point. Maybe not today or anything, because you’ll need about thirty minutes and a serious willingness to understand how it works, but - it’s so worth it. It’s basically an answer to our occasional frustration - why do assholes always come out on top? - and the beautiful thing about it is that not only does it explain how that happens, but also how we can change it.

“In the short run, the game defines the players. But in the long run, it’s us players who define the game.”

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Under Arrest - 3RACHA

(this is a membership exclusive + a preview 👀 you can read the whole illegal story here)

pairing: officers 3RACHA x fem! reader

summary: You see sirens in your rearview mirror and are pulled over by some of the hottest police officers you've ever seen.

warnings: porn no plot! driving while intoxicated (don't do it!!), power dynamic, sensory play, oral (m.receiving), corruption, unprotected sex, rough sex, facials, hand jobs, creampies

It was 2 am and you were drunk. Not dangerously drunk. But you knew you shouldn't have been driving. But here you were, driving home from the club as you hear a police siren coming up behind you, so you pull over. You tried to sober yourself up as much as possible as the officer leisurely approached your vehicle. He slowly leaned down with a smirk and pats on your window, telling you to open it. “Tsk Tsk Tsk. Someone shouldn’t be on the roads in this condition.” There was a sound of a flashlight clicking on and for a moment all you could see was white. You bring your hand to your eyes and groan. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

A shiny piece of metal reflects off the headlights and you read the officer's badge: Seo Changbin. You squint at him and smile pathetically, “Am I in trouble, officer?”

Changbin smirks wider "Now, now... let's not make this more difficult than it already is. Remember who's wearing the badge here. Step out of the car, slowly." His voice drips with a mix of authority and familiarity. You sigh heavily and step out of your car. The headlights bathe the officer's silhouette in a soft glow. His uniform squeezes around his large arms while his muscular hands grip onto his belt. His eyes narrow as he watches you move towards him. He can't help but notice the shirt length of your dress and how it moved around your legs. His hands roam over your sides and waist as he 'pats you down', his touch lingering longer than necessary on your midsection and hips. He can feel the thin fabric of your dress under his hands, and he swears he can almost feel your warm skin beneath it. "Turn around.”

[inmoonsblood]

lover : percy jackson

book percy jackson. unspecified godly parent!reader. takes place around two years post trials of apollo. both of them are in college. 815 words.

synopsis: "like hell! the only one who can get me away from you right now is my mom." ; ft; late night rain dancing, taylor swift playing, warm towels and a shit ton of kisses from your second favourite person in the whole wide world.

note: repost 1 from my old account! i love this fic so so much, but i need to heavily stress that this (and all my percy fics) are for book percy, (17-18 year old) i don't write for show percy as of now. an old fic written before the show came out, so please, be nice to me, directly reposted from @the-ink-of-roses incase you've read it before!

percy's hands slip around your waist, your back to his chest, as he picks you up and gently sways the two of you to the beat of 'love story' by taylor swift while he hums the lyrics under his breath.

he tugs you closer and presses a kiss to your cheek and jaw, resting his head on your shoulder later. you giggle when he does that, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

the playlist probably ran out ages ago, now you two are staying afloat purely on the will of the spotify lords and their music choice, but as long as it's a song that either you or percy know, it works.

(anything works, to be honest, just as long as percy's here, behind you, holding you like you're the one thing he never wants to lose. as long as you have that, you know you've won. as long as percy jackson holds your hand and kisses your cheeks, gods, you'll take anything.)

new rome is fun, it keeps life interesting in a way that doesn't risk you, him and annabeth going out on quests--and annabeth having to mock throw up every time you two kiss even if you know she's just as terrified as you two.

swords and running from medusa's sisters (or medusa sometimes. yeah aunty em was NOT happy last time you met her, apparently she still remembered the store circus thing even if it was more than seven years ago) were replaced with chasing deadlines and seeing how many energy drinks you guys can stomach.

you're in new york right now, staying at sally's (when she learnt you were going to spend the holidays in new rome, she demanded her son get you home. no way in hell is estelle's favourite person going to stay alone for the holidays), and like the two very smart heroes of olympus you two are, you're out here dancing in the rain.

it's a little silly, yeah, but in your absolute defence, this started out as percy trying to teach you how to skateboard before the rain, and neither of you are going to let that ruin a date for you (by extension let zeus ruin another date for you, even if this isn't aimed at you--probably not aimed at you), so you two made the best of both worlds, thanking the gods the speaker piper got for you is waterproof. (in hindsight, percy is also waterproof, he just likes this better. despite the inevitable cold coming in soon for both of you).

with one last strike of thunder, the rain slowly dies down, leaving you and him in the park as the spotify lords finally give up on you two.

percy drops you suddenly and you have only two seconds to squeal in absolute surprise before you're turned around to face him this time. he's grinning at you with a look of absolute mischief--you're sure connor and travis had the exact same look before they shoved you into the pool last time you guys visited camp half blood. of course, percy was in there but something tells you that was their goal.

he looks so pretty you could cry.

and this pure boy, who smiles secretly to you, looks at you like you're the one at the centre of his universe, the one who holds your heart. this same boy has given you his, asking only for your love in return, something you're more than happy to give him.

before you can ask him what he's up to, percy suddenly shakes his hair, causing all the water to fly everywhere, including on you.

you almost yell in surprise but with a small chuckle bite back. doing the same, as both of you laugh while shaking your heads to have the water droplets go around everywhere.

it's probably a weird sight to watch--two teenagers, drenched in water, shaking their heads like there's no tomorrow while holding each other, but you don't really give four fucks.

once your head starts hurting, you stop and cup percy's face, getting him to stop as well. your other hand slides into his hair, messing it up further as the hand on his face guides him for a kiss.

he lifts you up again and twirls you--no doubt to get another laugh out of you--before setting you down.

percy doesn't let go of your hand either, not when you pick up your stuff and head to sally's (your current favourite person in the world), not while the two of you are lectured by her on colds coughs and fevers in this weather, not even when warm towels are given to the two of you.

not even when you two keep sneezing the next day to no one's surprise.

[felassan]

Some snippets from DA dev Luke Barrett on the unofficial BioWare forum, cut for length:

DA:I -

User: "I am still convinced that Bioware cut the healing spells and went with barriers instead because of the Multiplayer." Luke Barrett: I can't speak to any other games directly but I can give a bit of historic context for DAI. The game was initially a more dungeon/linear delving - see how far you can get - experience and there was no barrier of any kind. As a side note: healing has always been a hot topic in design because as soon as you include it there are many other conceits you now need take into consideration for the gameplay - one of which I will call 'the Anders problem'. Anyway, as DAI got the date moved and shifted more into the pseudo-openworld the concept of attrition (see how far you can get before having to return to camp) became less relevant and we needed to help the Players have more moment-to-moment agency around their survival. Unfortunately for various reasons (one of which is the sad reality of designing a game with a shifting timeline) the healing couldn't be re-added so we ended up with more of a mitigation strategy in the barrier system. It went through a lot of iterations but eventually landed on what it shipped with which I would call... acceptable (but just barely). Now, I will concede that a part of the reason it didn't return after that shift was an aversion to holy trinity gameplay specifically for MP but it wasn't the core reason. As a side story, trying to balance the game (as that was my job on DAI - and yes, it could be much better haha) we had to all but force Players to take barrier. It is intentionally the first skill in the first tree for the Mage and all the autolevel (I also handled that) is designed to get it right away." [source]

User: "Merry Christmas Luke! Sooo what was the hardest class you had to balance? [DA:I]" Luke Barrett: "I feel like anyone who was around for the post-launch content will already know the answer to this as it was the bane of my existence when I got put exclusively on MP after launch but the Knight-Enchanter barrier absorbing was a pain. Stuff like that is very challenging to feel good without being broken as they are relative to damage so scaling is fairly open-ended. Too little and the casual players won't get use out of it, too much and the character builders will be wildly OP. We actually had a 'no nerfing' guideline for the SP side so it was a hard battle to fix that silly thing 🙃." [source]

"As a fun fact, I did all the logic for autolevel on DAI and the guideline I was given was literally "make functional builds, but don't make something optimal that you'd play"." [source]

DA:TV -

User: "If you can, say thanks to the people making the no die option possible." Luke Barrett: "Done! My team handles this stuff so I let them know 😊" [source]

"Comically, I designed the majority of the items and skills and I am still finding it fun making awesome builds (been almost entirely doing playthroughs lately" [source]

"Was really important to the team that everyone could play the way that felt best to them." [source]

"Each specialization has a focus around a few specific mechanics, some of which are the weapons or damage types but you can go off script and make it work for sure (this was intentional in the designs)." [source]

"I designed all the skills and so they're each enjoyable to me to some extent. I have been playing through the game over and over the last couple months for balance purposes so I've played them all fairly extensively." [source]

User: "Necrotic sounds like it could be either Spirit or Nature." User: "For Rogue, it replace "poison". For Mage, it replace spirit (Spirit bomb). For Warrior, it's more spirit (especially Reaper), but some skills could work as poison too. So basically they merged spirit and nature." Luke Barrett: "Thats pretty close to spot on. They were actually heavily iterated on throughout development - I can't (at least currently) go into specifics as to why though." [source]

"the target for the progression vision is that you can make a viable build out of almost** any aspect of the gameplay." [source]

"As for timelines, We started DA4 in October of 2015 roughly. The entire team was moved to MEA for about 3-4 months to help it ship and I also spent all of 3 weeks helping out on Anthem. But otherwise I've been on some incarnation of DA4 for about 9 years now - pretty ready for it to release 😅." [source]

"yes, years of working on the same thing can cause some burnout but I've played through the full game probably about 8 times in the last few months and it's still fun (though some of the specific levels that haven't changed in a long time I've done 50+ times easily and I could do without ever seeing them again 😂)." [source]

User: "I do kind of feel that at this point the DA team has put so much work into creating and improving their tools and learning the ins and outs of Frostbite [...] But who knows what the devs in the trenches really feel" Luke Barrett: "I will say it does some things very well and some things poorly, relative to other engines. Personally I really enjoy Frostbite but I've been using it since 2012. In an ideal world, many engines would be viable and developers would make games suited to the strengths of a specific engine." [source]

User: "Since this game is much more stat heavy than prior titles, specifically when it comes to skills and gear, there's likely a need for some balance changes to be made post-launch. Does the game being playable completely offline hinder the data capture side for your team (in terms of analytics), or is this a non-factor?" Luke Barrett: "Generally speaking, most people leave data analytics on so we get more than enough data coming in. Additionally, I'll personally be watching several channels for things that are underperforming (relatively speaking) and not have to nerf anything. The rpg side is vast though and I'm sure people will find OP combinations/synergies that might need 'adjustments' but as long as it's fun and not an "I win" button that trivializes combat I'm pretty cool with it." [source]

Luke Barrett: "I can safely say there are many builds for each class that will feel very powerful if you're not on the highest difficulty 😉. What I'm really excited for is when the guides comes out that show people the fastest way to get some of the uniques that unlock 'special' gameplay 😊. Let's just say I love the feeling of rushing to Patches in DS1 and kicking him off the bridge for the Crescent Axe (iykyk)." [source] User: "Speaking of guides. Will there be a guidebook like there was for DAI? " Luke Barrett: "Not that I'm aware of but I'm happy to help feed info to somewhere like fextralife or the dragon age wiki after a week or so to help with those pursuits. Have to leave some time for exploration and discovery before the optimizers streamline the experience 😉" [source]

"Effectively, at least until the game launches (and likely a week or so after), you won't get anything interesting out of any of the devs save Mike Gamble or John Epler. Longer term I hope to be very active, at least for build mechanics and all the combat/rpg nuts and bolts conversations." [source]

"I started "da4" in October 2015 and so after 9 years of effort (minus 3 months on Andromeda) I'm quite excited for tomorrow and the launch week. I don't know if I'd say nervous, I feel pretty confident in the product, but definitely that eager kid before Christmas feeling 😊" [source]

"As the person who did all the balance, I will say that if you are comprehending how to make a cohesive build and understand the combat mechanics, you should play on Underdog. One of the downsides to having a lot of power growth vectors is the difference between people who engage vs those that don't becomes a chasm quite quickly. If you start blowing enemies up rapidly, turn up the difficulty (or play on nightmare where that will not be the case) - basically if it ever feels super easy or like enemies are health sponges you're probably on the wrong setting for your skill level. The custom difficulty settings are there to make the gameplay enjoyable (for whatever that means to you)." [source]

"As a tip from me, the balance is subtly tipped in the players favor until the last fight of the 3rd combat mission. Be warned if it's feeling too easy you may want to wait until after that to decide." [source]

[on DA MP] Luke Barrett: "It was actually pretty fun but very much not what most people wanted us to make (including internally). Also we had, let's say, limited staff who had a passion and background in MP so it was definitely the right call to go SP only. Now, it would have been nice had we just started that way but so it goes sometimes." [source] User: "You still play it yourself from time to time (DA MP), or have you left it be?" Luke Barrett: "After playing variations of DA4 for so many years (9!!!) it's hard to go back to anything with DAI controls/gameplay speed. Even the initial Joplin prototypes I was doing were much more snappy/twitchy - for everything good about DAI the combat was definitely in the middle of two different styles." [source]

[on aiming bows] "we actually used to have separate buttons for ADS and ranged attack but it was wildly overloading the controller. These RPG games need controllers with at least 2 more buttons (fingers crossed for the next gen)" [source]

User: "After the last few games, I'm really surprised by the current skill... tree?" Luke Barrett: "I call it a skill graph - aside from the beginning where you have 3 choices the entirety of it is 2 choice splits and it'll essentially make a build for you. Just go a little at a time and aim for whatever specialization seems most fun to you 😄" [source]

"Loot is not random so theoretically guides with drop locations should appear pretty soon." [source]

"Yep, Spellblade is the only spec that directly impacts fire damage but you can get benefits from most of them and still go fire. As for the specs, yes it would have been nice to support all of them but just wasn't in scope unfortunately. Mage has Mourn-Watch, Shadow Dragons, and Antivan Crows specializations - only the Rogue has a Veiljumper one. Deathcaller left side you can go beam based and use a Fire weapon. Evoker you'd likely need to do a hybrid ice/fire build." [source]

User: "Bit of a side question, but for those who intend to make more characters, is BioWare considering upping the amount of playable character slots you can have (currently at 3)? Or is there a hardware restriction here given the game is offline playable?" Luke Barrett: "Don't quote me as I don't handle the technical side of this but my understanding is we have to allocate a specific amount of HD space on the consoles so we basically have to pick a limit, relative to our save file sizes, and then divide that by number of careers. I'll inquire if this is something we can increase with an optional download or something but I suspect consoles are stuck that way, unfortunately." [source]

[on Patch 1] "It's been awhile since I actually did the content for this patch so I'd have to check but I have a pretty anti-nerf policy for SP games. I know I fixed up a couple enemies that weren't as hard as they were supposed to be and definitely boosted a bunch of synergistic things though. I'll take a look tomorrow but for those that don't know, the turnaround time on these things is about a month of it's not an emergency due to certification process with consoles. Longer term my goal is to keep an eye in telemetry of any underused abilities and items (or enemies with too many kills under their belt) and audit them just to double check if they need a boost or if people just haven't figured them out yet 😉." [source]

"The equippable items are all predetermined with a minor exception*. Some items are class specific (all the weapons, a small amount of armors and accessories, 2 runes) so when you play a different class you'll see your classes 'version' of that item. Things that are random (from a table/pool) are valuables. Exception: Near the very end of the game we do a few checks on what equipment you haven't acquired. A bunch of those final drops, and inventory on the final merchant, simply find stuff you don't have and give it to you. That's basically the only major RNG we have with loot. If you notice even 99% of the skills and item mods employ an effect after a condition is met X times rather than a more traditional 'proc chance'." [source]

[on modding] "Once this starts to pick up, feel free to PM me if anyone needs help 'finding' assets or has questions about how one might mod something. We don't officially support mods buuuuut we don't have any kind of anti-modding stance either" [source]

"To give the high level gist of the resource economy: - each class starts off with minimal ability usage, this is intentional to force people to learn the other combat mechanics as they're a necessary skill and it's easy to lean on a crutch like ability spam and kiting - abilities are designed to feel powerful on use, thus they all have a decent cost and can't be spammed* - weapon attacks generate your resource - in the bottom right of the center skills area is a node to make each class's resource easier to manage - halfway down all starting segments (N, SW, SE) there is always a node that boosts generation - there are +max nodes on all sides of the skill graph for each class, this is particularly important for the Mage as they start each fight at max - each class can build into being ability focused but starts intentionally rounded - loastly, the first ability is always a resource spender and 1 or 2 of the next available ones will be cooldown gated. It is recommended to have at least one cooldown based ability slotted" [source]

"So loosely the rogue momentum works like this: - each ability costs 50 momentum - hitting enemies generates ~2 momentum per hit (base), you get extra for bow weakpoints - when you are directly hit, you lose 15% of your current momentum, this means the more you hold the more you will lose (this loss has a small cooldown so you don't lose a whole bar when you get hit rapidly) - momentum carries forward between combats (compared to warrior rage which decays when out of combat) If youre having issues, make sure you get that skill in the middle section that reduces momentum loss when hit. As a helpful tip, the Quicken buff generates small amounts of momentum each second so it's a good way to get more if you're having issues." [source]

"I highly recommend using the belt that grants Quicken early game until you can generate momentum faster yourself. And yes, the time dilation affects everything in the world except the Player so all your buffs and things still tick at normal speed" [source]

User: "If I knock an enemy off an edge, if they were supposed to drop something will it appear on the edge, or is it lost for good?" Luke Barrett: "It should appear on the ledge. I will say the 'real' loot from enemy drops are all hand placed. The actual random stuff is just valuables and materials." [source]

" The way it actually works is very complicated with a lot of necessary exceptions but loosely - each ability has a base damage and ones that hit multiple times have an offset multiplier. - That value is multiplied by the sum of all your stat bonuses, conditional bonuses, resist and layer modifiers. - We then subtract enemy defense and multiply by 1-resist (with penetration being calculated here). - this new damage then gets multiplied by 1+crit+weakpointpoint (so those bonuses always feel meaty) and then multiplied by a random number between .95 and 1.05 just to give a little range to the floaties (basically just a presentation thing) - we then multiply again for buffs and debuffs so they, again, always feel meaningful - lastly, we take all added damage and add it flat on top" [source]

"Specific enhancements make enemies immune to the matching affliction. For example, Fire Enchanted enemies are immune to burning. Juggernaut enemies are immune to being staggered but otherwise it should work in everything." [source]

[fromchaostocosmos]

Hey OP everything I'm about to say I'm saying out both kindness and frustration.

I'm guessing that you are not Jewish because what you wrote really does not reflect the reality of life for Jews in the USA at that time.

Jews would not be socialites or rubbing elbows with wealthy and elite. And no matter how much any Jews would have stripped away any their Jewish identity they still would have been viewed as classless and lesser by the upper echelon.

Jews were immigrants who primarily did not speak English and mostly were on the east coast.

Fun fact about Jews during this time: Jews who kept Shabbat would have to look for a new job ever week because they would be fired for refusing to work on Shabbat.

As for San Fransisco Jews only came there due the California Gold Rush which happened the mid point of the 1800's.

Jews were heavily involved in Unions and were a major backbone of the Labor movement.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 is something that is major keystone is labor rights and movement history. You can not learn about unions and labor laws or anything to do with that without hearing about this. But you know what always gets glossed over, ignored, and often outright erased? The fact that the majority of the workers were Jewish girls and women.

In fact if you look at pictures of many labor marches you will notice that the signs are in Yiddish.

The Jewish identity of the Jewish contributors the unions, labors laws, child labor laws, and labor rights get erased and they become immigrants of X country when their Jewishness played a important role in why they fought for what they did, but also why they faced the discrimination and unfair labor practices they faced.

Also Oscar Wilde would not have had anything to do with anything related to Jews because he was a massive antisemite.

There is this thing that people often do, such as what you have, where they write Jews as having wealth, privilege, and access thinking that they are being inclusive when really what is happening is the furthering of antisemitic tropes and stereotypes as well as a revision of history when this happens in historical settings.

You want to make the Jewish character the prince of the story no problem. Have them be an organizer for a Union and the ball can some kind event or even march or something related to unions.

That can be a connection point between the two of them. The prince title can be a nickname or another connection point where her name, either first or last, is mispronounced by non-Yiddish speakers.

You could even have it be that she is going out and doing out reach to different jobs to get them to unionize/help unionize.

as for views towards their child being gay honestly it would vary with how religious the family was, but also the fact that she was a girl and not a boy it would not as much as a deal due to religious understandings.

While a lot of parts of Yiddish culture has been lost due to the loss of many Yiddish speakers their has existed within this culture a whole queer culture/world though they had their own words to describe it.

This idea has merit and could work it just need to fix the historical inaccuracies and cultural insensitivities in regards to the Jewish parts.

I'm not Chinese so I can't speak to those parts and I don't OP if you are Chinese so again I don't feel it is my place to speak on any of those parts.

Because I do not want Sephardim to left out or forgotten I want to point out that Ashkenazi Jews are not and have not been the only Jews in the USA.

1934 saw San Francisco's first Sephardi Synagogue.

So while yes there was in the 1800's a large influx of Jewish immigration of Ashkenazi Jews to the USA that doesn't mean that there were no Sephardim in the USA already or Sephardim who at the time who were moving around the USA or immigrating to the USA.

I don't want Sephardi history to be ignored or erased.

There is nothing wrong with having the Jewish character be Ashkenazi, I just want to make sure that if I'm accounting for proper historical record in regards to Jews then I'm doing that and leaving out Sephardim.

cinderella remake set in 1880s san francisco where cinderella is a chinese immigrant with bound feet and also she’s a butch lesbian and the prince is a butch lesbian too but she’s a paris-educated german-american socialite and a darling of the transatlantic arts and literary world so the connotations of her gender nonconformity are completely different. oscar wilde is there

[idolomantises]

Have you watched Murder Drones, and if so what’s your opinion on it?

Also your art is great, keep it up.

Thank you!

And uh. Man. I may make an enemy out of another indie fandom because I don’t really like this show.

I actually loved the pilot and thought episodes 1-3 were incredible, if a bit too fast paced. But episode 4 was kind of a breaking point for me and I dropped off after that.

I don’t think it’s very funny. I think it relies too much on Bathos and it makes it hard to take its cast seriously. As a black comedy it mostly worked for episodes 1-3, but 4? No.

It does this thing I really despise in media where it has themes of genocide but like… heavily deprioritizes it and often portrays it like a comedy. It’s supposed to be funny when innocent characters are murdered because they’re just goofy side characters but when it’s a major character suddenly we have to care, and I don’t like that at all. The main character has a meltdown over finding out that murder drones are sent to kill her people at the end of the pilot, and then in episode 4 she’s murdering her classmates and crying because a boy she likes might think she’s weird. I actually find it pretty frustrating that the robots are portrayed as incredibly cowardly because they’re slowly dying off and scared to die and then they’re hanging out with V who casually murders random children and nobody reacts to it.

I actually do like the idea of a character who’s not reformed but is kind of forced to stick around but when I see her murder characters, traumatize children and then go “haha I just have mental problems” and everyone just… moves on, I just cannot bring myself to care. It causes such a massive dissonance and not in a fun way.

I think it’s very frustrating and unengaging when a story about people doing the right thing and trying to help others has no interest in helping those they’re trying to save.

I think the female cast is solid but I did kind of raise my eye a bit when the only major female character that was killed off was a victim of genocide while the other genocidal characters, two of which gleefully murdered her fucking parents, are just allowed to hang out with the rest of the cast. Uzi especially lost a lot of sympathy for me when she was more emotional about freaking out N than murdering her classmates. Like yeah, they weren’t the nicest to her but it’s weird to establish a character wants to end genocide and then… barely reacts when they also indulge in that genocide.

I don’t really like the characters at all. I don’t like Uzi, I found N irritating and boring (and gives me anime harem protagonist vibes), I thought V was a tryhard and I couldn’t really care for the rest of the cast. I liked Doll but lol, you know how that turned out.

It also has this problem of having an overloaded cast with very little breathing room. I really wish the show just had one, low stakes episode, so we can actually get to know these characters and collect their thoughts. It’s actually one of my concerns for TADC, because as much as I do like that show, I think “no filler” with constant story is going to make or break the show for me. It’s too fast paced and no, I don’t think it’s good that you have to rewatch an episode 4 times to understand what’s going on. I don’t watch indie shows to play where’s Waldo, information should be explained to the audience in a way that feels digestible and natural.

The animation is incredible and the stuff that came out from the finale was insane, but at times it just felt like jangling keys in my face. Like don’t pay attention to rushed story, underdeveloped characters and bizarre tonal whiplash, look at the cool fights. I dont think it does horror well either. In fact I kind of cringe a bit when characters a big wide grins and giggle evilly and it’s mean to be intimidating and it just. Doesn’t work. Feels a bit juvenile honestly.

And. This is a very personal thing. I don’t like the robot designs.

[granadahvlmes]

"The Five Orange Pips" and the Burden of Failure

Another entry in a series of short essays inspired by @fruitviking on the following prompt:

Someone (I would like it to be me but I don't have the time right now) ought to write an essay on the recontextualising of the Adventures and Memoirs stories in light of the fact that they are written posthumously.

Of all their adventures, The Five Orange Pips may weigh most heavily on Watson’s memory. It is a tale marked by failure as much as danger. Holmes’s inability to save John Openshaw reveals a rare crack in his facade of infallibility. Holmes’s grim silence, clenched fists, and restrained fury after Openshaw’s murder suggest more than frustration—they hint at vulnerabilities Watson only recognized too late.

Holmes, known for his logic and precision, rarely faced failures as absolute as this one. Openshaw’s death was not a simple miscalculation but a devastating blow—a life lost because Holmes misjudged time, danger, and malice. For Watson, Holmes’s silence in the aftermath was unbearable, a moment of chilling foreshadowing.

Was this the first glimpse of the weight Holmes carried? A burden Watson would only fully grasp after Holmes’s apparent death? In hindsight, Holmes’s fury seems less like frustration and more like a reflection of a fragility even the great detective could not escape.

For Watson, the case is also one of personal regret. At the time, he trusted Holmes’s assurances that Openshaw would be safe, that logic and forewarning would protect him. But in hindsight, those reassurances ring hollow. Writing after Holmes’s death, Watson questions if his deference to Holmes’s judgment played a role in Openshaw’s fate.

He may find himself asking the same questions he later asked about Reichenbach: Could I have stayed? Could I have prevented this?

The macabre climax—Openshaw’s body recovered, the orange pips a grim token of his death—serves as a chilling precursor to a future loss Watson could neither foresee nor prevent. Holmes, so often in control, is shown here as powerless against the chaos of human violence and the inexorable march of time. This failure foreshadows Reichenbach, where even Holmes’s brilliance could not save him.

Watson’s retelling transforms the case into a meditation on fragility. Holmes’s failure in The Five Orange Pips, once an isolated event, becomes part of a larger pattern of vulnerability—a pattern Watson feels he failed to confront. Beneath his clinical prose lies a whisper of guilt. Should he have acted differently? Could his presence have saved Openshaw, just as he often wonders if it might have saved Holmes?

The frantic search for answers, the logical unraveling of Openshaw’s danger—all of it seemed so purposeful at the time. But after Openshaw’s death, Watson might realize the futility of their efforts. It is a chilling precursor to the helplessness he felt at Reichenbach. No deduction, no brilliance, could undo the losses they endured. Watson is left grappling with the bitter truth of their limitations.

For Watson, recording The Five Orange Pips is more than a tribute to Holmes’s methods—it is an act of preservation. It immortalizes a brilliance that could not always triumph over the forces it faced. He cannot escape the quiet anguish that shadows his prose: the fear that no account, no detail, can truly convey the weight of Holmes’s struggles or the depth of their bond. The story is a reminder of the cost of genius, the fragility of even the strongest partnerships, and the questions that linger long after the last pip has fallen.

[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (fire and gold)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Be aware of the time jumps. This is the last part of the story. Between Pride and Fire will take its posting schedule.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood and gore)

- Previous part: son's choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @your-favorite-god

The morning sun sneaked weakly through the stained-glass windows of the solar at Casterly Rock, casting fragmented light onto the table where Tyland sat. His brows furrowed as he read the missive in his hands, the wax seal of the Hand of the King—Otto Hightower—already broken. The contents of the letter were audacious, to say the least, and the weight of them settled heavily on his shoulders.

You entered moments later, your gown sweeping softly against the stone floor. The expression on Tyland’s face immediately caught your attention, a mixture of frustration and calculation.

“What is it?” you asked, crossing the room to stand beside him. “You look like you’ve just swallowed something sour.”

Tyland exhaled slowly, handing you the parchment. “It’s from Otto Hightower.”

You took it with a frown, scanning the contents quickly. As you read, your face darkened, your fingers tightening around the edges of the paper.

“An alliance,” you said, your voice cold. “And yet again, he proposes that Rhaella marry Aemond.”

Tyland leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes studying you carefully. “It seems Otto hasn’t given up on securing the Westerlands. He sees Rhaella as a key to solidifying their claim.”

You threw the parchment onto the table with more force than necessary, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Aemond killed Luke,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger. “He killed my nephew, Tyland. And now Otto dares to propose this… this farce of an alliance? After taking my sister’s throne? It’s an insult.”

Tyland reached for your hand, his touch gentle but grounding. “I know how you feel,” he said softly. “But we need to think carefully about how to respond. Otto wouldn’t send this without a reason.”

“His reason is obvious,” you snapped, pulling your hand away as you began to pace. “He wants to divide us. To pull the Westerlands away from Rhaenyra’s cause and strengthen Aegon’s. He sees Rhaella as a pawn—a tool to secure his power.”

Tyland watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And he’s not entirely wrong. Rhaella’s marriage would hold significant sway over the Westerlands.”

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. “You’re not seriously considering this.”

He shook his head, his tone calm but firm. “Of course not. But dismissing it outright could have consequences. Otto is playing a game, and we need to ensure that our response doesn’t put us in a weaker position.”

Your voice rose, the anger bubbling to the surface. “A weaker position? Tyland, we’re already at war because of Otto Hightower’s schemes! He has no honor, no loyalty. If we even entertain this, it’s a betrayal of everything we’ve fought for.”

“I agree,” Tyland said, standing and crossing the room to meet you. “But we can’t afford to act rashly. Rejecting Otto outright may provoke him into retaliating, and the Westerlands aren’t invulnerable.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling with frustration. “How can you be so calm about this? He’s asking us to marry our daughter to the man who murdered my nephew. The man who defies the very legacy of my family. Of your family now, too.”

Tyland’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “Because I have to be calm, Y/N. For you, for our children, for our House. I understand your anger—I feel it too. But anger won’t win us this war.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I won’t let them take Rhaella, Tyland.”

“And they won’t,” he promised, his voice steady. “But we need to send a response that makes our position clear without inviting retaliation. Let me handle this.”

You hesitated, your heart torn between anger and trust. Finally, you nodded, though your voice remained firm. “Make it clear, Tyland. Make it clear that House Lannister stands with Rhaenyra. That we will not forgive Luke’s death or the theft of my sister’s throne. And that Rhaella will never marry Aemond.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I will. You have my word.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling over you. Outside, the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs filled the air, a reminder of the world beyond the walls of Casterly Rock—a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

Finally, Tyland returned to the table, picking up a fresh piece of parchment and reaching for his quill. As he began to write, you watched him, your heart heavy but resolute. You had fought too hard and lost too much to let Otto Hightower’s schemes tear your family apart.

The response would be swift, direct, and unyielding. The Westerlands were no one’s pawn, and House Lannister would not be bought.

The sky above Rook’s Rest was a chaotic swirl of fire and smoke, the once-quiet fields below transformed into a battlefield of roaring dragons and clashing steel. The sun had barely risen when Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond sprung their trap, their dragons—Sunfyre and Vhagar—descending from the heavens like twin harbingers of doom. The ground trembled beneath their might, and atop the castle walls, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen mounted her scarlet-scaled dragon, Meleys, preparing to meet their challenge.

But she was not alone.

Out of the western sky came a roar that sent shivers through the assembled forces below. Valtyr, his green-and-gold scales glinting like precious metal, soared into the fray with a ferocious cry. Upon his back, Loren Lannister gripped the reins tightly, his golden hair whipping in the wind. He descended swiftly to join Rhaenys, the younger dragon circling the larger, battle-scarred Meleys like a loyal vassal.

“You shouldn’t be here, boy!” Rhaenys called over the roar of the wind, her voice sharp but not unkind.

“I’m not leaving you to face them alone!” Loren shouted back, his voice resolute. “This is my fight too!”

Rhaenys gave a grim smile, nodding once. “Then stay close and do as I say. We finish this together.”

The dragons roared in unison as the battle commenced. Sunfyre, with his golden scales gleaming in the early light, lunged toward Meleys, his jaws snapping with deadly intent. But the Red Queen was swift, twisting mid-air and lashing out with her claws. The sound of tearing flesh echoed through the sky as Meleys raked Sunfyre’s flank, dark blood spilling like eclipsed sunlight.

Loren and Valtyr dove toward Aegon, who clung desperately to his saddle as Sunfyre reeled from the attack. The younger dragon unleashed a torrent of flame, the green fire licking at Sunfyre’s wings. Aegon bellowed in pain as the heat seared his armor, and Sunfyre faltered, his once-majestic form reduced to a struggling shadow of its former glory.

“Aegon, fall back!” Aemond’s voice boomed from atop Vhagar, his expression twisted with fury. The massive she-dragon surged forward, her ancient wings beating with a thunderous rhythm.

“Not yet!” Aegon roared back, his pride outweighing his pain. But his defiance was short-lived as Meleys struck again, her claws slamming into Sunfyre’s side and sending him plummeting toward the earth.

Aegon screamed as his dragon crashed into the fields below, the impact shaking the ground and scattering soldiers like ants. Meleys circled above, her roar a triumphant challenge, but there was no time to celebrate. Vhagar, older and far more massive, let out a deafening roar and lunged for her.

“Loren, now!” Rhaenys commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Valtyr shot forward, green flames spewing from his maw as he closed the distance to Vhagar. The older dragon turned, her massive jaws snapping inches from Valtyr’s tail. Loren clung to his saddle, the heat and smoke stinging his eyes as he urged his dragon to climb higher, forcing Vhagar to follow.

“She’s too big!” Loren called out, his voice tight with effort. “We need to outmaneuver her!”

“Keep her focused on you!” Rhaenys replied, guiding Meleys into a flanking position. “I’ll strike where it hurts!”

Vhagar roared again, her ancient fury unmatched as she chased Valtyr through the smoke-filled sky. But Meleys was faster, her crimson wings a blur as she swooped beneath Vhagar, raking her belly with a savage strike. Vhagar bellowed in pain, her massive body twisting mid-air to retaliate.

Claws tore through the sky as the three dragons clashed, their roars echoing across the battlefield. Blood and scales rained down like grisly confetti, the once-blue sky streaked with fire and ash. Loren’s heart pounded as Valtyr narrowly avoided another devastating snap of Vhagar’s jaws, the young dragon twisting and diving with desperate agility.

“Hold on!” Loren shouted to himself, his knuckles white as he gripped the reins.

Below, Aemond snarled, his single eye blazing with rage as he guided Vhagar into another attack. “You’ll pay for this, boy!” he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din. “You and that wretched crone!”

Loren’s gaze hardened, his fear replaced by a surge of determination. “Come and try!” he shouted back.

Meleys surged forward again, her claws ripping into Vhagar’s wing. The ancient dragon roared in fury, her massive body buckling mid-air as blood gushed from the wound. But even wounded, Vhagar was a force to be reckoned with. With a final, deafening roar, she lunged forward, her massive weight slamming into both Meleys and Valtyr.

The impact was catastrophic. All three dragons became a tangle of wings, claws, and fire, their riders clinging desperately to their saddles as they plummeted toward the earth. Loren felt the air leave his lungs as Valtyr let out a pained shriek, his body twisting uncontrollably.

“Hold on!” Rhaenys’ voice reached him, her tone frantic.

The ground rushed toward them, the world a blur of chaos and destruction. Loren tightened his grip, his heart pounding as he prayed to the gods for a miracle. Around him, the sky seemed to collapse, fire and smoke consuming everything in its path.

And then came the crash.

The impact was deafening, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the fallen dragons. Dust and debris filled the air, the cries of men and beasts mingling in a cacophony of terror. Loren coughed, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.

The world came back into focus sharply for Loren with a blinding pain in his head and a metallic taste in his mouth. He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to steady as the ground beneath him swayed. Smoke filled the air, and the roars of dragons battling nearby were deafening, their cries reverberating across the desolate field.

When his vision cleared, he saw him. Aemond Targaryen, limping slightly but charging forward with a sword gleaming in his hand. His face was a mask of fury, the sapphire set in his empty eye socket glinting with malevolence. Blood streaked down his armor, and his pale hair was matted with soot and gore.

“You’ve overstepped, boy!” Aemond roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Now you’ll pay the price for your insolence!”

Loren scrambled to his feet, his body aching from the fall, and drew his sword—a finely crafted Lannister blade with a roaring lion etched into the hilt. His dragon, Valtyr, was somewhere in the distance, locked in a deadly struggle alongside Meleys against the massive form of Vhagar. The clash of claws and teeth rang out like thunder, but Loren’s focus was solely on the man bearing down on him.

“I’ll pay no price to a kinslayer!” Loren spat, steadying himself as Aemond closed the gap.

Aemond lunged, his sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. Loren parried just in time, the force of the blow sending vibrations up his arms. Aemond was relentless, his strikes coming fast and sharp, each one pushing Loren further back.

“You think you’re my equal?” Aemond sneered, pressing forward with another brutal swing. “You’re a cub playing at war!”

Loren gritted his teeth, ducking beneath the next strike and countering with a slash aimed at Aemond’s side. The blade bit into the prince’s armor, drawing blood, but Aemond barely flinched. Instead, he laughed—a cold, mirthless sound.

“You have fire,” Aemond said mockingly, his sapphire eye gleaming. “But fire alone won’t save you.”

Their swords clashed again, sparks flying as steel met steel. Loren’s arms ached with the effort of blocking Aemond’s powerful strikes, but he refused to give ground. He could feel the heat of the nearby battle, the earth trembling beneath the weight of the dragons’ struggle.

“You killed Luke!” Loren shouted, his voice raw with fury. “You killed my cousin, and you dare speak of fire?”

“Luke was weak,” Aemond snarled, his strikes growing more vicious. “A boy who couldn’t rise above his weakness. He deserved his fate.”

Loren roared, his anger fueling his movements as he pushed back against Aemond’s assault. He swung with all his might, his blade slicing across Aemond’s shoulder and drawing a spray of blood. Aemond staggered, but his grin only widened.

“Good,” Aemond hissed, blood dripping from his wound. “Show me the lion’s bite.”

Loren lunged again, his strikes faster now, driven by the memory of Luke and the injustice that had brought them to this moment. But Aemond was experienced, his movements fluid as he parried and countered with precision. Their blades locked, and Loren found himself face to face with his uncle, their breaths ragged.

“You’ll never be one of us,” Aemond growled, his voice low and venomous. “You’re no dragon—you’re just a lion cub pretending to roar.”

Loren gritted his teeth, twisting his blade free and delivering a sharp kick to Aemond’s knee. The prince stumbled, giving Loren a brief opening. He swung his sword, the blade carving a shallow gash across Aemond’s chest.

Aemond snarled, his fury evident as he retaliated with a brutal backhanded strike. The hilt of his sword caught Loren across the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in his vision as he tasted blood, but he refused to stay down.

With a groan, Loren rolled to his feet just as Aemond bore down on him. The prince’s blade sliced through the air, grazing Loren’s arm and leaving a deep gash. Blood poured from the wound, staining his tunic and dripping onto the ground.

“You’re finished!” Aemond roared, raising his sword for a killing blow.

But Loren wasn’t done. Summoning every ounce of strength, he surged forward, his sword driving upward in a desperate strike. The blade pierced Aemond’s side, the sound of metal slicing through flesh mingling with the prince’s cry of pain.

Aemond staggered back, clutching the wound as blood seeped between his fingers. His eye burned with hatred, but his movements were slower now, his strength waning.

Loren raised his blade, breathing heavily. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through him. “For Luke. For all of us.”

Aemond smirked through the blood staining his lips. “We’ll see about that, boy.”

Before Loren could strike again, the ground shook violently as the dragons’ battle reached a fever pitch. A deafening roar split the air, and Loren turned to see Valtyr and Meleys locked in a final, desperate struggle with Vhagar. The three dragons tumbled from the sky, their massive forms crashing into the field with a sound like thunder.

The impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, knocking both Loren and Aemond to the ground. Loren’s vision blurred as the dust and debris clouded the air, but he forced himself to rise, his gaze fixed on the wreckage of wings and fire.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Smoke thickened the air, and the crash of the dragons’ fall left the earth trembling. The clash of claws and teeth echoed across the bloodied field as Valtyr and Meleys struggled against Vhagar, the ancient she-dragon’s ferocity unmatched. In the distance, Aemond and Loren still stood, battered and bloodied, their duel momentarily halted as both stared at the carnage.

And then, another roar tore through the sky—a sound like a clarion call, fierce and unrelenting. All heads turned skyward as Rhaella Targaryen descended on her sleek, sapphire-scaled dragon, Aelirys, his wings cutting through the smoky air like a blade.

Rhaella’s voice rang out, strong and defiant, even over the chaos. “For Luke! For Rhaenyra!”

Her words galvanized the field as Aelirys dove into the fray, his sapphire flames pouring over Vhagar’s side. The larger dragon bellowed in rage, her massive form twisting to face this new threat. Blood already streaked her scales from her struggle with Meleys and Valtyr, but she showed no sign of yielding.

“Rhaella, no!” Loren shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “Stay back!”

But Rhaella was undeterred, her violet eyes blazing with fury. “You need me, Loren! You all do!”

She spurred Aelirys forward, the smaller dragon weaving nimbly through Vhagar’s attempts to swat him from the sky. The clash of dragons intensified as Aelirys struck with his claws, raking deep wounds along Vhagar’s flank. The ancient dragon roared, her massive tail swinging like a battering ram and narrowly missing Meleys, who retaliated with a savage bite to Vhagar’s neck.

Below, Loren turned back to Aemond, his grip tightening on his sword. “It’s over, Aemond,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “You’ve lost.”

Aemond smirked, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised his sword. “Lost? Look around you, boy. This is only the beginning.”

With a roar, Aemond lunged, their blades clashing once more. Loren fought with renewed determination, his strikes fueled by the sight of his sister joining the battle above. The clang of steel rang out as the two young men exchanged blow after blow, their movements growing more desperate and brutal.

Above them, the dragons’ fight reached a fever pitch. Aelirys and Valtyr worked in tandem, the younger dragons striking at Vhagar’s exposed sides while Meleys kept her jaws locked on the larger dragon’s neck. Blood poured from Vhagar’s wounds, staining the battlefield below as her roars grew weaker.

“Keep pushing!” Rhaella shouted, her voice fierce as she guided Aelirys into another dive. The blue dragon released a torrent of sapphire flames, the searing heat scorching Vhagar’s already-tattered wings.

But Vhagar was not done. With a final, desperate burst of strength, she twisted her massive body, throwing Meleys off balance. The Red Queen screeched as she tumbled, her rider clinging tightly to her saddle. Valtyr moved to shield her, but Vhagar’s claws raked across his side, leaving deep, bloody gashes.

“Valtyr!” Loren cried out, his heart lurching as his dragon faltered in the air.

Rhaella’s voice cut through his panic. “He’s strong, Loren! Focus!”

Her words steadied him, and he turned back to Aemond, who was breathing heavily, his armor slick with blood. The prince smirked, though his strength was clearly waning. “Your sister has spirit,” Aemond said, his voice taunting. “Shame she’s bound to fall like the rest of your family.”

Loren roared, his sword slashing through the air with renewed vigor. Aemond parried, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. “You won’t touch her,” Loren growled, his strikes coming faster now. “You won’t touch any of us!”

Above, Aelirys and Valtyr regrouped, their combined flames engulfing Vhagar in a brilliant blaze. The ancient dragon roared one last time, her movements slowing as her wounds took their toll. Meleys, bloodied but determined, surged forward, her claws sinking into Vhagar’s chest as she drove the larger dragon toward the ground.

Rhaella’s voice rang out again, her tone triumphant. “We have her!”

But Vhagar, even in her death throes, was not to be underestimated. With a final, desperate effort, she lashed out, her massive tail striking Aelirys and sending him spiraling. Rhaella cried out, clutching the reins as her dragon struggled to steady himself.

On the ground, Loren saw his sister’s peril and screamed, “Rhaella!”

Aemond took advantage of his distraction, lunging forward with his sword. The blade sliced across Loren’s side, drawing a deep wound that sent him to his knees. Aemond stood over him, breathing heavily, his violet eye blazing with triumph.

“You’ll die here, boy,” Aemond sneered, raising his blade for the killing blow.

But before he could strike, a shadow passed over them. Valtyr descended like a vengeful spirit, his roar shaking the battlefield as he unleashed a torrent of flame. Aemond barely had time to leap back, the heat singing his armor as he cursed and stumbled.

Loren seized the moment, his hand clutching his sword as he forced himself to his feet. With a roar of his own, he drove the blade forward, piercing Aemond’s side. The prince gasped, blood spilling from the wound as he staggered back.

“You’ll never win,” Loren said, his voice cold as he stepped closer. “Not while we stand.”

Above, Meleys delivered the final blow, her jaws crushing Vhagar’s throat as the ancient dragon fell silent. The battlefield grew quiet, the roars and flames replaced by the crackle of distant fires and the labored breathing of the survivors.

Rhaella guided Aelirys back to the ground, her expression fierce but relieved as she dismounted. She rushed to Loren, who was leaning heavily on his sword, blood staining his armor.

“Loren,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live,” he replied, his gaze drifting to Aemond, who lay crumpled on the ground, his breaths shallow. “But he won’t forget this.”

Rhaella’s expression hardened, and she nodded. Together, they turned to face the battlefield, the cost of victory heavy on their shoulders.

The morning sun cast a pale light over the scorched and blood-soaked battlefield of Rook’s Rest. The acrid scent of charred flesh and dragonfire lingered in the air, mingling with the cries of wounded soldiers and the low growls of restless dragons. Smoke curled lazily into the sky, a grim reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.

Loren sat slumped against a broken piece of stone, his armor dented and smeared with blood, his breathing labored. His side ached where Aemond's blade had struck, the hastily applied bandages doing little to stem the pain. Nearby, Aemond Targaryen lay barely alive, his once-imposing figure now broken and bloodied. His sword rested a few feet from his limp hand, forgotten in the chaos.

The sound of marching boots echoed through the battlefield as Daemon Targaryen, Jason Lannister, and Corlys Velaryon arrived with their respective forces. The banners of House Velaryon, House Targaryen, and House Lannister fluttered in the breeze, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the devastation around them.

Daemon rode at the forefront, his silver hair glinting in the light as he surveyed the scene. His violet eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Vhagar’s broken form, the fallen Sunfyre, and the wounded Valtyr, Meleys, and Aelirys resting nearby. His expression darkened further when his gaze landed on Loren.

“Loren,” Daemon called as he dismounted, his boots crunching against the ash-strewn ground. “You look like hell.”

Loren managed a weak smile, his voice hoarse. “And yet, I’m still breathing. Can’t say the same for Aegon.”

Daemon’s smirk was fleeting as his gaze shifted to Aemond’s crumpled form. “Aemond’s alive,” he noted coldly, striding toward the wounded prince. “Pity.”

Jason dismounted next, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. “You reckless fool,” he said, crouching beside Loren. “You could have died.”

“I had to,” Loren said, wincing as he adjusted himself against the stone. “We couldn’t let them win.”

Jason shook his head, his tone softening. “You’re too much like your father. Stubborn to a fault.”

Corlys joined them, his sharp gaze assessing the battlefield. “You held them off long enough for us to arrive. You’ve done well, boy.”

Loren gave a faint nod, his eyes flicking to Aemond. “He’s dangerous. If he lives…”

Daemon interrupted, his voice laced with disdain. “He won’t pose a threat. Not in this state.”

Daemon stood over Aemond, his expression a mixture of contempt and triumph. “You thought yourself invincible, didn’t you, nephew?” he said, his tone mocking. “But even the might of Vhagar couldn’t save you.”

Aemond groaned weakly, his one remaining eye fluttering open to glare at Daemon. “You… haven’t won,” he rasped, blood trickling from his lips. “This… isn’t over.”

Daemon crouched beside him, his smirk cruel. “Oh, but it is, Aemond. Your dragons are dead or dying, your brother is ashes, and you—” he gestured to Aemond’s broken form— “are barely clinging to life. Tell me, where’s your victory now?”

Jason approached, his voice measured. “What do we do with him?”

“Kill him,” Daemon said without hesitation, his hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister. “It’s what he deserves.”

“No,” Loren interjected, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “Not like this.”

Daemon turned, his expression darkening. “He killed your cousin, boy. Do you really think he deserves mercy?”

Loren met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not saying he deserves it. But killing him now, when he’s defenseless, makes us no better than him.”

Corlys nodded slowly, his tone thoughtful. “The boy has a point. Executing Aemond like this could turn him into a martyr for their cause. It’s a risk we can’t ignore.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he rose, his gaze sweeping the battlefield. “Very well. We’ll take him as a prisoner. But I warn you, Loren—if he becomes a problem, his blood will be on your hands.”

Loren nodded, his resolve unshaken. “I’ll take that chance.”

Jason clapped his nephew on the shoulder, his expression proud. “You’ve got the heart of a lion, Loren. Let’s hope it’s enough.”

As the soldiers moved to secure Aemond, Daemon turned back to the dragons. Meleys stood tall despite her wounds, her blood-red scales streaked with gore. Valtyr rested nearby, his golden-green eyes watching Loren protectively. Aelirys perched on a crumbled tower, her sapphire scales shimmering despite the soot and ash.

“We’ve won the day,” Daemon said, his voice carrying across the field. “But the war is far from over. Gather your strength—we’ll need it.”

Loren leaned back against the stone, his gaze drifting to the sky. The cost of victory weighed heavily on his mind, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of relief. 

The throne room sat heavy under the weight of foreboding, its high ceilings amplifying the silence. Queen Alicent sat rigidly on the Iron Throne, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beside her, Otto Hightower stood, his face a carefully composed mask, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

The air grew heavier still as a messenger entered, his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor. He carried a scroll bearing a black wax seal, its edges frayed as though it had been handled with haste. Alicent’s gaze snapped to the man, her green eyes sharp as daggers.

“Speak,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

The messenger knelt, his voice trembling as he began. “My Queen… news from Rook’s Rest.”

Otto stiffened, stepping closer as Alicent’s fingers dug into the arms of the throne. “What news?” he demanded.

The messenger hesitated, his gaze flicking between the Queen and the Hand. “King Aegon… is dead. His dragon, Sunfyre, is no more. Vhagar… has fallen as well.”

The words hung in the air like a curse, the weight of them crashing down upon the room. Alicent’s breath hitched, her composure wavering as her mind struggled to process the blow.

“And… my other son?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The messenger swallowed hard. “Prince Aemond is alive, Your Grace, but grievously wounded. He is held captive by the Blacks.”

A sharp intake of breath came from Alicent, her mask of control shattering for a moment. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, this cannot be.”

Otto’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the throne as he leaned forward. “How did this happen?” he demanded. “How could two of our greatest dragons and their riders fall?”

“The Blacks had reinforcements,” the messenger explained, his voice trembling. “Prince Daemon and his forces arrived after the initial battle. Lady Rhaenys fought valiantly, as did the young Lord Loren Lannister. Together, they brought down both Sunfyre and Vhagar.”

Otto’s face darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Loren Lannister… the lion cub. Tyland’s boy.”

Alicent’s hands trembled as she gripped the throne, her knuckles white. “And Aemond?” she pressed, her voice cracking. “How badly is he hurt?”

The messenger hesitated, his eyes lowering. “He is said to be barely alive, my Queen. His wounds are severe.”

Alicent let out a shuddering breath, her chest heaving as tears threatened to spill. “My sons,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “My Aegon, my Aemond…”

Otto placed a firm hand on her shoulder, his expression cold and calculating. “We cannot afford to falter now,” he said sharply. “This war is not over.”

Alicent’s gaze snapped to him, her eyes blazing with anger and despair. “My son is dying, Father! My eldest is dead! How can you speak of war when my family is being torn apart?”

Otto’s voice hardened, his tone brooking no argument. “Because we must. Aegon may be gone, but Aemond still lives. We must secure him and rally what remains of our forces. If we show weakness now, Rhaenyra will seize the throne completely.”

Alicent stood abruptly, her composure unraveling as she paced the room. “And what of my son?” she demanded. “Do you truly believe they will spare him? That Daemon will show mercy?”

Otto’s silence spoke volumes, his lips pressing into a thin line. Alicent’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

“We must send word,” she said finally, her voice trembling but resolute. “To retrieve Aemond. Whatever it takes, he must be brought back to us.”

“And if they refuse?” Otto asked, his tone calculated.

Alicent’s gaze hardened, her grief giving way to steel. “Then we will remind them what it means to cross House Hightower.”

The throne room fell silent once more, the weight of the Queen’s words hanging heavily in the air. Outside, the bells of the city tolled mournfully, their somber tones echoing across King’s Landing. 

The battlefield of Tumbleton was chaos—a sprawling tapestry of fire, blood, and betrayal. The flames of dragonfire consumed the once-prosperous town, casting a hellish glow that turned the night into day. Soldiers screamed as they fell, their cries drowned out by the deafening roars of dragons above.

Belerix, your massive dragon circled high, his piercing roar shaking the earth below. His molten eyes scanned the carnage, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the scent of burning wood and flesh. Seated firmly in the saddle, your grip tightened on the reins, your gaze fixed on two figures above: Daeron Targaryen astride his cobalt-blue dragon, Tessarion, and Ulf the White, the traitorous rider of Silverwing.

“Traitors to the throne, both of them,” you spat under your breath, your voice filled with venom.

From the western flank, Addam Velaryon on Seasmoke rose into the skies, the pale-gray dragon's wings cutting through the thick smoke. Below, Lannister forces, led by Jason Lannister himself, surged forward, their crimson and gold banners streaming as they engaged the green loyalist forces in brutal melee combat.

“Addam,” you called, your voice carried by the wind as Belerix flanked Seasmoke. “We’ll take Tessarion together. Jason’s forces can handle the traitors on the ground.”

Addam nodded, his youthful face hardened by the firelight. “Understood. But what about Silverwing?”

Your gaze darkened as you turned toward Ulf the White, his dragon circling menacingly near Tessarion. “Silverwing is mine.”

Addam hesitated for a moment but trusted your resolve. With a sharp command to Seasmoke, he veered toward Tessarion, his dragon’s roar echoing as he descended on Daeron.

Belerix bellowed a challenge, his massive wings propelling you forward as you locked onto Silverwing. Ulf turned just in time to see your approach, his eyes widening as Belerix unleashed a torrent of blue-and-gold flame. Silverwing twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the inferno, but her silver scales were singed, her anguished cry cutting through the chaos.

“Face me, you coward!” you roared, guiding Belerix into a dive.

Ulf snarled, his voice carrying over the wind. “You’re outmatched, Princess! You’ll die like the rest of your family!”

Belerix’s jaws snapped inches from Silverwing’s tail, his claws raking across her flank as the two dragons collided. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, the force nearly unseating you from your saddle. Silverwing shrieked, her blood splattering onto the battlefield below.

Ulf drew his sword, shouting obscenities as he tried to maneuver his dragon. “You think you can stop me? I’ll carve your name into this battlefield!”

“Try it,” you hissed, guiding Belerix into another strike. The massive dragon slammed into Silverwing again, his claws digging into her side as his teeth sought her vulnerable neck.

Below, Addam and Seasmoke engaged Tessarion in a deadly dance. The cobalt-blue dragon twisted and turned, her flames lighting up the sky, but Seasmoke was faster, darting in and out of range with precision strikes. Addam shouted commands, his voice filled with determination as he fought to bring down the younger prince.

Jason’s forces surged through the town, cutting down loyalists and securing key positions. The clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men filled the air, the ground beneath their feet slick with blood. Jason himself was in the thick of it, his golden armor gleaming as he struck down a charging enemy with a swing of his blade.

Above, Belerix and Silverwing continued their brutal clash. Ulf swung his sword wildly, his strikes falling short as you deftly guided Belerix out of range.

“Enough of this!” you shouted, your voice filled with fury. “Belerix, end it!”

Your dragon roared in response, his massive jaws closing around Silverwing’s neck in a bone-crushing grip. The silver dragon thrashed and screamed, her wings flailing as she struggled to break free. Ulf cursed and shouted, his sword clattering uselessly against Belerix’s armored scales.

With a final, deafening crunch, Belerix severed Silverwing’s throat, her lifeblood spilling onto the battlefield below. Ulf the White screamed in fury and despair, but his cries were cut short as Belerix’s claws raked across his body, tearing him from his saddle and casting him into the inferno below.

You stared down at the lifeless form of Silverwing as she plummeted to the earth, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “One traitor down,” you muttered, turning your gaze toward Tessarion.

Meanwhile, Seasmoke and Tessarion clashed viciously, their roars shaking the heavens as their riders dueled with words and weapons. Addam pressed the attack, his dragon’s agility proving superior as Seasmoke’s claws raked across Tessarion’s wings.

“You’ll regret this, bastard!” Daeron shouted, his voice filled with rage. “You are nothing but a pretender!”

“And you,” Addam retorted, his voice cold and steady, “are a usurper.”

You guided Belerix toward the fray, your dragon roaring as he joined Seasmoke in the assault. The combined might of the two dragons overwhelmed Tessarion, who let out a final, pitiful cry as Belerix’s flames engulfed her. Daeron screamed as he was thrown from his saddle, his body consumed by the fire before it ever hit the ground.

The battlefield fell eerily silent as the last of the Green forces were routed. The sight of their prince’s lifeless body and the fallen dragons broke their spirits, and they fled in droves, leaving Tumbleton to the Blacks.

You landed Belerix near the center of the town, his bloodied claws sinking into the scorched earth. Addam dismounted Seasmoke, his face pale but resolute as he approached.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, your gaze sweeping over the battlefield. “Tumbleton is ours. The traitors are dead.”

Jason arrived moments later, his armor smeared with blood and soot. “We’ve secured the town,” he reported, his tone grim. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

You dismounted, your legs trembling as you steadied yourself. 

The three of you stood amidst the wreckage, the weight of your victory tempered by the knowledge of what lay ahead. The dragons roared one last time, their cries echoing across the desolate battlefield as a reminder of the price of power.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and amber, an ominous prelude to the events unfolding below. The roar of Balerix, your sapphire-and-silver dragon, reverberated across the expanse as he flew alongside Syrax, Rhaenyra’s golden-hued dragon. The capital of King’s Landing loomed ahead, its walls and towers casting long shadows over the city. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, but soon, a darker smoke would rise to mark the beginning of a new rule.

Below, Corlys Velaryon led his fleet into Blackwater Bay, their sails emblazoned with the seahorse of Driftmark. Beside him marched Daemon Targaryen, his dark armor glinting menacingly as he led the ground forces—a combined force of Velaryon soldiers, Lannister bannermen commanded by Tyland and Loren, and the remnants of loyal troops from the Riverlands.

The sight of the dragons overhead spread panic through the streets of King’s Landing. Smallfolk screamed and scattered, soldiers on the walls froze in terror, and bells began to toll—first as a warning, then as a call for surrender.

Rhaenyra’s voice carried through the wind as she turned to you, her silver hair whipping around her face. “This city will fall today, sister,” she said, her tone cold. “And with it, the Greens.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the Red Keep, where banners of green still flew defiantly. “Otto and Alicent will answer for their crimes.”

As the dragons descended, Syrax let out a piercing roar, her flames scorching the gates of the city. The wooden beams and metal hinges glowed red-hot, the force of the fire splintering them apart. Balerix followed, his sapphire flames engulfing the surrounding walls, sending defenders scattering.

The gates gave way, and Daemon's forces surged forward, the sound of clashing steel and war cries filling the air. Corlys’s ships unleashed volleys of arrows and flaming projectiles, striking key positions along the harbor to prevent reinforcements from arriving by sea.

As Syrax and Balerix soared above the city, their shadows casting fear onto the panicked masses, you followed Rhaenyra’s lead toward the Red Keep. The Keep stood defiant, its towering walls a stark reminder of the Targaryen dynasty's strength. But today, that dynasty was fractured, and you were here to reunite it by fire and blood.

“Hold back no longer!” Rhaenyra commanded, guiding Syrax to land in the courtyard. Soldiers scrambled to take defensive positions, but their resolve wavered as Balerix landed beside her, his massive form dwarfing them.

You dismounted, your armor gleaming in the morning light. “Surrender!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the stone walls. “Or face the wrath of the dragons!”

Some dropped their weapons, their courage faltering in the face of certain death. Others charged, desperation driving their actions. But Syrax and Balerix were swift, their flames cutting down any resistance as the Targaryen banners were hoisted in place of the green.

As you entered the Red Keep, the halls were eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. Rhaenyra led the way, her gaze sharp as she approached the throne room. The doors creaked open, revealing Alicent Hightower standing at the base of the Iron Throne.

Alicent’s expression was a mixture of fear and defiance as she stepped forward. “You have no claim here, Rhaenyra,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “This throne belongs to my blood.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed as she approached, her presence commanding. “Aegon is a dead usurper. You knew this, Alicent. You orchestrated it. And now, it ends.”

You stood beside your sister, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. “The city is ours. The Greens have lost. Stand down, or face the consequences.”

Alicent hesitated, her gaze flickering to her daughter. Helaena clutched her children protectively, her eyes wide with fear.

“This is madness,” Alicent said, her voice breaking. “The realm will burn because of you.”

Rhaenyra’s voice was icy. “The realm burns because of you.”

With a final, piercing glare, Alicent dropped to her knees, her Helaena following reluctantly with her chidlren. The sight filled you with a grim satisfaction. The Greens were defeated.

Outside the Red Keep, the banners of House Targaryen flew high once more. Daemon and Corlys entered the gates with their victorious forces, their armor bloodied but their spirits high. Tyland and Loren dismounted nearby, their expressions weary but relieved.

Tyland approached you as you emerged from the Keep, his eyes scanning you for injuries. “You’re unharmed,” he said, his voice heavy with relief.

You nodded, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s done. The city is ours.”

Loren joined you, his youthful face hardened by the realities of war. “And the Greens?”

“On their knees,” you replied, your gaze shifting to the distant horizon. “But this is just the beginning. The realm won’t accept this easily.”

Daemon strode toward you, his smirk faint. “Let them challenge us. We have dragons, and now, we have the throne.”

The sky above King’s Landing was thick with smoke, the scent of victory mingling with the cost it had demanded. As you looked upon the city, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead.

An excerpt from "The Dance of Dragons: A History of the Civil War Between Targaryens" by Archmaester Vaenion

The union of Tyland Lannister and Princess Y/N Targaryen, though initially questioned by many, emerged as one of the most pivotal alliances during the Targaryen civil war. Their partnership, built on mutual respect and shared purpose, not only shaped the course of the Dance of Dragons but also cemented a lasting legacy for both House Targaryen and House Lannister.

Princess Y/N’s betrothal to Tyland Lannister was, at first glance, a surprising match. A calculated maneuver by King Viserys I, it was seen as a strategic alliance to bind the powerful Westerlands to the Iron Throne. Yet, what began as a political union quickly grew into a genuine partnership.

Tyland, known for his cunning and practicality, was often underestimated compared to his boisterous twin, Jason Lannister. However, it was Tyland’s sharp mind and unwavering loyalty that won over the Sapphire Princess. Their secret romance, whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, became public when King Viserys formally announced their engagement. Their marriage, celebrated with great splendor, brought the Lannister banners into Queen Rhaenyra’s fold when the civil war broke out.

The War and Their Role

While many questioned the decision to involve the Westerlands so heavily in the Dance, Tyland and Y/N proved to be invaluable to Rhaenyra’s cause. Princess Y/N, with her dragon Belerix, was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Her decisive actions at Tumbleton, where she struck down the traitor Ulf the White and Prince Daeron Targaryen, marked a turning point in the war. Her sapphire flames engulfed the battlefield, earning her the title "The Sapphire Flame" among her enemies.

Tyland, meanwhile, played a more subtle but equally vital role. His ability to manage alliances, supply lines, and logistics proved critical, especially during the retaking of King’s Landing. It was said that while Rhaenyra and Daemon wielded fire and blood, Tyland wielded the quill and coin, ensuring their campaigns could continue.

Their children—Loren, Rhaelle, Kevan, Alysanne, and the youngest, Jaeryn—represented the unity of their houses. Loren, the rider of Valtyr, and Rhaelle, who bonded with Aelirys, carried forward the legacy of fire and blood alongside their parents.

Challenges and Triumphs

The war tested their bond, particularly when Loren Lannister defied his mother’s wishes to fight alongside Daemon Targaryen at Harrenhal. Tyland, ever the mediator, balanced his wife’s fiery temper with his measured reasoning, ensuring the family remained united despite the chaos. This dynamic—Y/N’s unyielding passion and Tyland’s calm pragmatism—became the cornerstone of their relationship.

Their support of Rhaenyra came at a cost. Tyland’s defiance of Otto Hightower and the Greens led to threats against his family, forcing him to flee with Y/N and their children to Casterly Rock. Their return to King’s Landing, victorious, marked a triumph not only for the Blacks but for their union as well.

A Legacy Forged in Fire

In the aftermath of the Dance, Tyland and Y/N worked tirelessly to rebuild what the war had destroyed. They strengthened alliances, secured trade for the Westerlands, and ensured that House Lannister’s role in supporting Rhaenyra’s reign was not forgotten.

Tyland’s legacy was one of intellect and resilience, a man who proved that strength came in many forms. Y/N, with her dragon and her unwavering loyalty to her sister, embodied the indomitable spirit of House Targaryen. Together, they were a testament to what could be achieved when fire and gold were united.

Their story is remembered not as one of mere political convenience, but as a tale of partnership, love, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of war.

[thehutpoint]

Aaah, for me it was not "The Terror" though it did play an important part. It was "The Last Place On Earth", Titus, crawling on all fours out of the tent and it might be some time, and the lonely cairn slowly drowning in the snow out there in the white vastness of Antarctic. It premiered in Polish TV in 1986 I think, so I was what, eight at the time? But yeah, that's how it started. These pictures stuck in my mind like a shhip stucks in the pack ice.

And then, two years later I found these under the Christmas tree.

Four brochures with stories from the Arctic. Yeah, these were still the (not so) merry times of the Iron Curtain, so there were some stories about so brave and so plucky Soviet polar explorers, triumphing over Mother Nature. But the rest? The rest was pure delight. Barents, wintering in the Arctic with his crew, Dr. Kane's expedition, Hudson, De Long and his Jeannette crushed by the merciless Ice, Fritdjof Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen attempting to get to the Northern Pole, captain Cagni of Italian 1899 Stela Polaris, doing DIY amputation of his thumb, Engineer Andre and his balloon, Amundsen and Nobile flying over the Pole in the airship Norge... aaaahhh. Not appropriate for ten years old, though still heavily sanitised, for example the eye inflammation that rendered lieutenant Danenhower of Jeannette (DeLong expedition) unfit for duty was said to be caused by the snow blindness, while in reality it was a sad complication of syphilis. Sanitized or not, appropriate or not, I loved these stories and my favourite play in winter was always The Polar Explorer, that means me, trodding on my crappy plastic skis on the fields around home, dragging my kiddie sledges and pretending I am Amundsen conquering the South Pole, or Nansen trying to reach the North one.

After that I've read voraciusly everything about polar exploration I could find. I went through the school library and other resources, learning about Franklin, Nansen, Amundsen, Exploration of Antarctic and two expeditions of Scott. Somehow, though, Titus did not catch my attention, he stayed somewhere on the margin (isn't that typical of him?) . To be honest he is a tad neglected by the polar autors, who do not know what exactly to do with him, so usually render him to this guy, you know, this silent dude who was taking care of the horses, then said, you know, This Badass Sentence and then went to die This Badass Death. Still, the frosty tales carried me through the chamber of hell called My Teenage Years.

For some time the polar stuff was at the fringe of my attention, because, you know, life happened, adulting was harder than I expected and so on. But then "The Terror" revived my love for brave, starving boys, freezing their lovely arses on both unhospitable ends of the Earth and I started sniffing again for the polar lit. And so I bought "Widows of the Ice" by Anne Fletcher which made me, by one quote in the chapter, I think, about Oriana Wilson, to go back to the man, who started it all. Titus Oates. Quiet, humble Captain Oates, who helped me to survive quite shitty period of my life and became my personal Comfort Polar Man. You might say I made a full circle.

there’s a certain descent into madness one takes after watching the terror. one minute you’re watching the show with mild interest and the next minute you’re hand painting Robert Scott’s sledging flag to put on your wall

[allzelemonz]

Family Dinner: Bruce Wayne X Gender Neutral Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: None mentioned Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Fluff, hints of Bruce’s unhealthy habits, found family, Thanksgiving, Bat-pets included Summary: Thanksgiving day at Wayne manor.

Everything on Thanksgiving is planned to the last detail. Firstly, everyone in the Wayne family has patrol duty, team gatherings to go to, and turkey induced comas to enjoy. Secondly, Alfred would never let something so important not be absolutely perfect. Despite not being from the Americas himself, he fully embraced the holiday celebrating its origins when he began working for Thomas and Martha years ago. Bruce has told you all of the stories of perfect Thanksgivings where Alfred got his busy parents to sit and relax, a tradition that now carries on to him and his own children.

When you woke up to find Bruce still in bed, a very rare treat, you relished in it. Being able to hold him without interruption is one of the best feelings in the world. He cuddles into your arms naturally, almost like a baby bat in the cold. It’s only when you brush a hand through his hair that his eyes open, alert as ever.

“Morning, B.” You mutter softly as his sky matched eyes look up at you.

He relaxes, the muscles that tensed upon awakening going right back to their sleepy state. “Morning.”

“You slept in.”

He nods, kissing your cheek before wrapping his arms around you. “Alfred gets moody if I wake up early on holidays.”

“Didn’t stop you on Halloween.”

“That’s different.” He grumbles. “Scarecrow couldn’t wait.”

“Maybe Calendar Man will make an appearance this time.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t jinx me.” Slowly, he sits up and rubs his eyes. “With my luck it’ll be Man-bat.”

“I thought Kirk was happy with his new enclosure at Arkham.” You say, sitting up and stretching lightly.

“He is.” Bruce picks up his robe and ties it on. “But there’s always the chance he could be corrupted. Bribed with a cure… or peaches…”

“Peaches?”

He nods. “Lee says they taste like the edible form of his serum, apparently.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised by any of this stuff anymore, and yet…”

Bruce smiles softly, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs. Remember to stay out of Alfred’s warpath.”

“No kitchen, I know.”

With one more kiss, Bruce walks out of the bedroom, turning down the hall towards the stairs. You gather your clothes for the holiday occasion and follow. As you descend the stairs, the smells of Alfred’s cooking take over your nose. The turkey, clearly seasoned heavily, the gravy and stuffing mixing to make a deep and unique fall smell, and the hint of cooling pies. Upon stepping onto the final landing you catch the sound of faint whining, a few more steps and you can see Ace, Titus, and Alfred the Cat all sitting just outside the threshold to the kitchen. Their heads move in unison, probably following Alfred as he walks. You make your way through the house, passing the library where Jason is sprawled out on the couch with a book, the den where Damian is speaking quietly with Jerry the Turkey and soothing him about ‘one of his brothers being eaten and promising he won’t have any’, and finally the gym where Dick and Tim are playing a spirited game of monkey in the middle with Haley.

You can see Bruce through the far window, standing in the garden. You join him, leaning into his side as he wraps an arm around you. The land surrounding the manor is always nice in the fall, leaves turn as red as Kate’s hair and the sky stays the classic Gotham gray. In the distance is Bat-Cow grazing in a fresh trough you assume Damian filled this morning. Bats chatter in the distance, settling in for bed in the early morning. Everything is peaceful for once.

“Any alerts?” You ask, resting your head on Bruce.

He shakes his head. “It’s the girl’s shift, they haven’t reported anything.”

To be fair, Steph, Cass, Barbra, and Kate tend to run a tighter ship than Bruce when they’re all paired on the same patrol. The last villain to try something on their combined watch was Bane and he was very quickly humbled.

“You have a schedule for today, don’t you?”

Bruce nods. “I’m going to see Harvey this morning, hopefully he stays front long enough we can have a conversation.”

“Then JL?”

“Yeah, it’s a small thing at the Watchtower. Then we’ll go to Clark’s with Damian.”

You hum, thinking of Ma Kent’s cooking. “The farm?”

“You’ll get the Kent rolls, sweetheart, calm down.” He shakes his head. “After Clark’s we have to make an appearance at the charity dinner, Dick and Tim are with us for that. Then I have a patrol shift with them, dinner here with everyone after.”

“Busy day.”

“Always is.” He kisses your head. “I should get going. The guard letting me bring Harvey decent food said he wouldn’t wait to sneak me in forever.”

“Have fun, Bruce. Let yourself enjoy time with your friend for once.”

“You’re turning into Alfred.”

The rest of the day is long, filled with feasts everywhere you go. At the Kents’ home you have a good amount of food and spend some time playing with Krypto and Streaky. Kara and John Henry are happy to make conversation while Bruce catches up with Clark and Lois. It’s not long before you’re back in the car and dressing up for the charity dinner. Bruce puts on his Brucie face and the boys flash their charm for about an hour before you part for their patrol.

It’s not until sunset that Alfred finally rings the dinner bell back at the manor. The dining room fills to the brim with every last one of Bruce’s chosen family. Every bird, bat, Fox, and assorted crimefighters gather around the table while the many pets get their own places, including the larger ones like the visiting Goliath who peek in through open windows. Alfred takes the seat Bruce offers him at the head of the table only after everyone insists, he is the heart of the family after all.

Everyone digs in, conversations fly and minor arguments among siblings and cousins flit around. You catch Bruce smiling more than once throughout the dinner and it makes your heart a little warmer. One by one people finish eating and drift off to different parts in the house. Bruce takes your hand and leads you to the TV room for a movie. Before long, most of the Robins, all of the dogs, and a few of the girls have settled in as well.

The only interruption in the night is Alfred and his cat namesake starting the winter holiday decoration early.

[seaescapologist]

Just wanted to talk a little bit about the current season (and its ties to the main story). I know it's probably better wait, until it's fully released, but… Spoilers for the first two chapters of the season + Y4

I really like that current season has thematic ties to the main story. I feel like with NOTME being intertwined with the story, it'd only make sense that the subject of squibs in wizarding society should come up. Not to mention Goldings/Merriweather ties to MC (which might be true or not, but at this point I am more inclined to believe them).

So, there were some things in the main story that already pointed to MC likely having magical relative(s), despite (as far as they know) being a muggleborn. First one being our first meeting with Ollivander, where he noted that there is something familiar about MC. Another, what was confirmed in Y4, Elliot is keeping track of MC. And based on what Winifred said at the start of Y3, he's been doing that even BEFORE he approached/started working with Daniel. Since at that point MC didn't really make anything to warrant that kind of attention in the main story, it'd make sense there is something else at play. Originally I thought that 6th former associate of Elliot's (the only former NOTME member aside from him not caught by the Ministry in Y4 as far as we know), was that connection. And I still do think it's very likely (MC not remembering them isn't a problem, considering how Hermione managed to make her family forget her in the books), but admittedly if MC's similarity to Tiburon is true, it does put a dent into one of the main clues in favor of that theory, since that'd at least explain Ollivander's line.

So Glenna and Merriweather's connection to MC. The story makes it pretty clear that Glenna isn't telling us full story. Which doesn't necessary makes what she already said is a lie. The implication that it's very likely that if MC's grandmother was a squib, she was straight up abandoned (and likely obliviated to not even remember having wizarding family), by Tiburon is heavily hinted at after all, based on how Glenna talks about him. Which obviously would explain her awkwardness about possibly contacting MC's grandmother.

But what is also interesting is that Golding house is full of torn up NOTME posters. Not only that, there is even NOTME mask in Marlowe's box of toys. Which doesn't really prove or disprove possible blood-relation to MC. But I do wonder, if that mask is Glenna's or Nyle's. Cause I honestly could buy both possibilities. And I almost feel like Glenna is a more likely suspect there. Especially since it would give another reason why she'd try to connect with MC (and it might be that Nyle's line about him wanting that she'd be "meeting right people" like MC instead was about her associating with NOTME).

Anyway, I've been thinking if Elliot keeping track of MC does have something to do with Merriweather family history. Morven lines suggest that Nyle or even MC's grandmother weren't the first squibs in their lineage. And especially Morven's line about squibs overreaching and always trying to prove themselves (and generally him implying complicated things about family history). I still can't shake the feeling that with the name 'Magic Awakened' there is some kind of artefact or something like that, that could actually do just that in the story (I wonder at what cost, especially with the 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' being in a focus this season), and if MC's squib ancestor played part in creating or uncovering it. And it'd make sense if it's something Elliot would try to get his hands on. The only thing I am not sure about is why Elliot would suspect MC needed to get it. Since one way or another it seems like one of descendants of Merriweather family is already working with NOTME. And also Elliot didn't really try to recruit MC, instead choosing a more indirect approach by working with Daniel. I guess it's possible this item (if it exists) is hidden in Hogwarts. So for obvious reasons neither Nyle nor Glenna would be the best options to get it in that case.

…And once again I am still not completely abandoning idea of that 'Sixth Associate' being connected to MC, after all the story made a point of having only five members of NOTME being caught, in which case that person might have the artefact instead and MC might just be a way to get to them. I think one point in favor of that possibility. Is that Elliot had a falling out with NOTME. But on the surface his goals for the organization seem roughly the same (now, I personally doubt it's genuine, but). So you have to wonder, what caused the split. And I'd say usage of dubious artefact could probably explain it. One way or another that Sixth person seems to be an important factor in the main story, that will come into play sooner or later.

Oh, well. Guess I'll have to wait and see. Hopefully end of this season will provide at least some answers (and further fuel for more theories, that's half the fun).

By the way, another thing that I liked this season is Glenna's love for detective stories (and I agree with her: magic does make it more difficult to write a compelling detective/mystery plot), maybe I am reading too much into it, but almost feel like a nod to creating theories about the story.

Edit. Actually thinking further on it, could Glenna potentially be that 'sixth associate'. Elliot's associates were Hogwarts Alumni (based on what he himself said in Y3), and I sort of assumed that they were in roughly the same age-range (well, likely a bit older than him), but that's not necessary the case after all. Now, posters were Elliot's/'New' NOTME's doing, so not something that past associate would spread, but that's the thing: the ones we see in her house are all torn up (so maybe, not unlike MC in Y4 she was removing them from around the Hogsmeade). And obviously the mask could be just a remnant from working with original NOTME team. ...Though if we interpret Nyle's line about 'right kind of people' as implying NOTME, it sounds like it's more of a recent thing (since it was about meeting 'new people')?

[autumnoakes]

i was actually playing last night and heard something interesting from melinoë after defeating prometheus. she passed through the door and said "please be a good guy" or something like that and it really got me thinking.

i think it's zeus (or ares). and i think whatever he has to say is going to begin to absolutely wreck melinoë's world view and start the character arc i think they're building up to. like yes, it is someone who is on her side and therefore is considered "good" to her, but something he says conflicts so completely with melinoë's perspective that it kind of sends her into a crisis where she starts to question everything she's done and everything she's ever been taught

i'm having trouble forming this thought into words but there's something about melinoë being raised the way that she was and being taught to think the way that she does to the point of not being able to think any other way. it's not naivety and it very much reminds me of how prejudices get passed from parent to child. i keep seeing these statements coming from the olympians saying that the old golden age was a farce and that chronos is manipulating the humans into following him (note that we don't have any living human perspective on what's happening, so we don't really know how far chronos' reach has spread. all we have to go on is what's happening in the realms of the gods and in ephyra). it's all being perpetuated by gods that melinoë has been raised to trust and believe in. i think she could be nearing a tipping point as the plot progresses, though. like i said, i don't think there's necessarily a "good" or "bad" side here, only the side that melinoë/the player is on and the side that chronos is on (plus many of the NPCs that we meet who are generally uninvolved in the whole mess). but there's also a lot that we're missing simply because melinoë is unaware of it.

[devotedlypinkpeanut]

The Good King — Teaser

SUMMARY : In this first life, you attract the attention of King Lee Heeseung, known throughout the kingdom as the good king. Seemingly tender, patient and fair, he is admired for his passion and determination to achieve his goals. But behind this mask hides a man obsessed with you, ready to do anything to have you. His obsession becomes a dangerous game where tricks and manipulations intertwine with a captivating sweetness, plunging you into a whirlwind of emotions. Whether it's seducing you or breaking down any barriers between you, Heeseung is determined to make you his, no matter the cost.

PAIRING : Lee Heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE : Dark romance, obsession, drama, slow burn, psychological tension, historical romance, reincarnation, fantasy, reverse harem

Hello everyone!

I hope you are well! I wanted to share a little preview of the second chapter of my story, which is heavily inspired by the series The Tudors and Reign . If you like royal intrigue, complicated relationships and a good dose of psychological tension, I'm sure you'll enjoy this story!

The universe takes place in a historical setting, with fascinating characters and intense power games. Obsession, mystery and manipulation are at the heart of the plot, a bit like in these series. I hope you will like this teaser, and I can't wait to see if you are as impatient as I am to discover the rest! 😊

Series Masterlist

The grand ballroom, lit by hundreds of candles, seemed to transform into an ocean of flickering light. The reflections danced on the stone walls, mingling with the laughter and hushed murmurs of the guests, creating an unreal, almost magical atmosphere. But in the middle of this sea of ​​elegance and splendor, Heeseung was elsewhere, out of time, out of everything that surrounded him. His gaze, carried away by a force greater than him, did not leave your silhouette.

There you were, in the center of the room, a mystery embodied in your midnight blue velvet dress. It hugged your curves with an almost unreal fluidity, every movement you made seemed suspended in time. The dress, delicately adorned with gold and silver threads, sparkled under the candlelight, like a sea of ​​sapphires, and every step you took caused a wave of admiration among the guests. But it wasn't just the beauty of your outfit that captivated Heeseung. It was you, the shine hidden behind your mask, the discreet glow of your eyes that barely reflected under the veil. It was that look, that look that seemed to carry everything in its path, like a calm sea hiding raging waves beneath.

He no longer heard the voices around him, not even King Francis I speaking in his ear, the latter's words becoming indistinct whispers in the back of his mind. Francis, in the middle of a speech about politics and possible alliances, had no idea that Heeseung was completely elsewhere. He was absorbed, captive to a moment, a single moment: you. The conversations were reduced to background noise. There was only this palpable tension, this electrification of the air between you, and everything around him seemed to distort and dissolve into a light mist.

Heeseung was hanging on your every move. Shadows danced around you, shards of light playing here and there, intensifying the depth of your face barely revealed under the veil. His gaze, captivated by the curve of your neck, slid slowly over your face, following the perfect line of your features to finally stop on your eyes. Those eyes… they were everything. That was where the mystery and the truth he ardently desired to uncover lay. Behind that mask, behind that veil that concealed almost everything, he guessed that you carried something precious, rare, inaccessible. And that, more than anything, troubled him deeply.

He was there, in that sea of ​​light and laughter, but there was nothing left but you and him. Nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

Francis, completely unaware of the seductive power of the scene, continued his speech. He spoke of strategy, alliances, lands to annex and potential marriages. He spoke, spoke endlessly. But all this was lost in the void for Heeseung, who, while keeping Francis in his field of vision, could not take his eyes off you. He heard the king's words, but did not listen to them. They had become empty, futile. Heeseung felt alien to this world of politics and plots, like a spectator trapped in a dream from which he was desperately trying to awaken.

When Francis finally caught sight of Heeseung's intense fixation, he understood. A slight mocking smile played on his lips. He approached him, like a predator ready to savor its prey, and murmured in a low, amused voice, almost invisible amidst the bursts of laughter and surrounding conversations: "So, Heeseung, you seem particularly absorbed by one of the Belmont sisters, don't you?" His tone betrayed an amusement that was in no way sincere. A slippery amusement, more cruel than benevolent, all the while knowing the effect it could have on him.

Heeseung, in spite of himself, felt his heart racing, an intense heat invaded his chest. He briefly looked away, staring at Francis for a moment, but immediately, his attention turned back to you. It was no longer a question of will. He could no longer take his eyes off you. The simple thought of leaving this moment, of moving away from you, filled him with a sort of palpable anguish. He wanted to know everything. Understand everything. He felt his soul contract under the intensity of the desire he felt, an irrepressible need to approach this mystery.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of himself, but the question escaped him before he could even stop it.

“Who… Who is she?” His voice, trembling despite himself, betrayed the depth of the desire he felt. It wasn’t just a superficial curiosity. No, it was a visceral need. An urgency to know everything, to understand everything. To discover who you really were.

Francis, of course, noticed the vulnerability in her voice. It only made his smile grow wider. He moved closer, leaning in with measured slowness, as if savoring every word, every moment where he would have the power to delve a little deeper into Heeseung's silent suffering.

“Ah, Y/n Belmont…” The king sighed, and the sigh sounded almost nostalgic, as if the young woman’s name evoked an old story, a distant and elusive romance. “She is… different, you know. A solitary soul, lost in her books, far from worldly distractions. She finds more pleasure in the solitude of her library than in the arms of men. But…” Francis let a silence settle, a smile that was far from innocent spreading across his lips. “Her sister, Giselle, she… She loves the court, the attention, the glory. I have…” The king paused, weighing his words. “I rode her, many times, once upon a time. An effervescent passion, but without mystery. I called her my ‘French mare’.”

Heeseung absorbed every word that Francis said about you. He tried to understand why you obsessed him, why each sentence of Francis seemed to chain him more to this inexorable desire to know you, to possess you. An inner storm that he could not control consumed him. He tried to look away from Francis, who seemed to savor the situation with obvious pleasure. But when his gaze caught sight of you again in the crowd, a shiver ran down his spine.

Without even a glance at Francis, without paying attention to the other guests who turned to watch his departure, he put down his glass with a sudden movement, leaving a trace of wine flowing onto the tablecloth. He stood up, his body guided by a force he did not understand, a force greater than himself. He crossed the room with a quiet determination, an obvious and irrevocable goal. His heart was beating at a frantic pace, but there was no more room for fear or hesitation. He was heading straight for you.

And all around him, the air seemed to thicken. The murmurs of the guests, the bursts of laughter and the looks of lust, all of it was nothing more than a rough sea that seemed far away, almost nonexistent. In his mind, there was only you. Just you.

[wearethekat]

November Book Reviews: The Ten Percent Thief by Lavanya Lakshminarayan

Reread, book club book. In a series of interlocked vignettes, Lakshminarayan depicts a dystopian future Bangalore heavily stratified based on a corrupt corporate meritocracy. Some characters rise up the Bell Curve, some characters fall, and beneath it all, rebellion simmers among the outcast Analogs.

Nothing in Apex City is particularly new in dystopia depictions—the AI that controls your thoughts to make you more palatable to your overlords, human beings so immersed in the virtual that they are incapable of managing outside it, the people deemed unfit being relegated to total organ harvesting. However, what I found unique and interesting in The Ten Percent Thief was the structure. Each chapter features a unique character, almost more like a series of loosely connecting short stories rather than a traditional novel. Jumping from character to character lends an immediacy to each story and allows the true nature of the dystopia to slowly unfold, rather than a narrative mediated through a single character's perspective and info-dumping. And from the lofty social media CEO to the character about to have their organs harvested, these people are not having a good time.

I also especially liked the references to earlier chapters seeded into later stories, which makes the overall book feel more cohesive. The tree that the Ten Percent Thief grew returns as the center of a revolution. The teen musician who struggled to win a professional career in the face of prejudice against Analogs is playing in the background of the senior center where people disappear. Former Analog sympathizer John Alvares who had to rewire his entire personality and opinions to win the promotion reappears as head of security.

A sharply pointed debut. Recommended if you enjoy sci-fi with an eye for social commentary.

[speakingviscera]

miss this technoblade fella

[willinglyghoulified]

HUGE SPOILERS but, have to say that the more I play it, the more I'm disliking it. I'm glad Solas and my Inquisitor got closure but I'm sad that the Inquisitor basically had to lose everything in the south. Skyhold barely held together, and it's heavily implied that it did fall. Everything in the south was torn apart off screen. You barely save Minrathos/Ativan, depending on which one you save, and the other is blighted all to hell. The villains themselves feel so wholly evil that they're evil just for the sake of being evil, like a Disney villain, and it cost us all of Thedas. Even with all the loses and all the potential character deaths, it still somehow didn't feel as hardcore as the last games. And can I just mention that almost none of your choices matter at all? Like, oh my god, I've never felt so dissociated from a CUSTOMIZED character. Rook has a very singular personality. No matter what you choose for Rook say, all the companions like Rook and almost none of Rook's replies have consequences or change the world around them. For example: you could be a total dick to the First Warden or choose to be diplomatic, and nothing changes.

Bio warehouse knew the way they wanted this game and story to go and gave us little to no say in it, and it killed their franchise. Also need to mention that they DID lay off a lot of their staff in the first few months of writer's strike.

The biggest difference between Andromeda and Veilguard is that Andromeda respects the lore, and since it's "separate" from the original trilogy you're free to enjoy it or hate it without one affecting the other. Veilguard is not like that. It was supposed to be an epic finale joining everything we did during the course of three games, but not only did it fail by itself, it also destroyed all that came before it forever. The countries and people you busted your ass to save? Oh, the Blight took everything off-screen, so now it doesn't matter! And if there is ever a fifth game, they're just gone make it in a way that not even Veilguard matters. Fucking up a standalone game is one thing, but fucking one a game and simultaneously the entire trilogy that came before it and lying to your players that you respected their choices is an absolute prize.