#but for the much simpler and yet no less complicated one of. What IS a Germania. Answer quickly.

[breitzbachbea]

Oh def don’t worry! If you don’t feel like answering them you can just delete lmao :3

Oh no, I totally feel like answering them, don't you worry, nonnie! With anons the pity is just that ppl don't get notified with answers, so I like to make posts immediately after receiving anon asks for ask games, in case answering them will take longer. Just so that anons like you know I won't have forgotten them!

[autistichalsin]

I know a lot of people find it boring how much Halsin talks about nature, and I do get it- it is repetitive. However, I also find that if you break some of his statements down into what he's implying, you end up with something a lot more interesting. (ESPECIALLY because a lot of these support the "Halsin is autistic" interpretation.)

Take, for example, Halsin talking about his place in the world, specifically relating to relationships:

Halsin: I still have hot blood in my veins. Nature gifted us our desires, and the means to act on them. But we muddied its beautiful simplicity with rules, social strictures... clothes. So, I am not bound to nature. I am unbound in nature.

Halsin: Relationship? Such terms belong to civilisation - a little unfamiliar to my lips. You know what we share is more fluid, more founded in the principles of nature.

Implications: Halsin finds society too complicated. He enjoys nature because its rules are simpler and more sensical; rather than social rules and structures that are beyond him (especially when you take into account the autistic Halsin interpretation), he feels comforted by nature, which is complex in a way that he understands.

There's also Halsin's friendship with Thaniel.

Halsin: I had a friend when I was young, long ago. He played with me in the forests where I grew up... but eventually, I realised no one else had heard of him. It was Thaniel, of course. Nature was my very first friend. I get older, but he hasn't changed a day. I knew then that I had to be more than a companion to him. I had to be a protector.

Implications: Nature, by being Halsin's first friend, has always been what Halsin is comforted by. It has been a steady and comforting presence for him, something he can rely in, in contrast to other people who are unpredictable. Nature is consistent and comforting for him.

Halsin, infamously, is not happy in the city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: Too much noise, too many lanterns kept burning... nature's rhythm is ignored here.

Implications: Halsin is overstimulated easily by excessive noise and other sensory inputs. Nature provides him somewhere quiet.

Halsin: I wish... I wish there was a better way. I wish everyone could see the sun, have a full belly, and know nature as a friend. There is a balance that is yet to be found.

Implications: Again, Halsin sees nature- not just Thaniel, but all of nature- as a friend. A source of comfort and companionship.

Halsin: I think on [politics and high art] also. But nothing matches the splendour of an ancient tree.

Implications: Halsin loves the beauty of the natural world as much as anything else. Rather than art or music (which he can appreciate), what he prefers is something that grew rather than being made.

Halsin: I am... less anxious to find myself in a city. So removed from nature's power - I do not know how I will fare.

Implications: Not only does Halsin prefer not to be in the city, but he is actually, to some extent, frightened of it (likely due to how overstimulating it is for him), in contrast with his feeling of being right at home in nature.

There's other things to note as well. If a Dark Urge player embraces Bhaal and then tells Halsin to bow, Halsin has this to say:

Halsin: Nature bows to none. It will fight on and survive, no matter what madness your god has inspired you to undertake.

Implications: Halsin views nature as strength, and admires that very much. He draws a lot of his tougher qualities from this aspect of the natural world.

Or a line where Wyll gently points out that he talks about nature a lot:

Halsin: When you care about something deeply enough, it consumes every thought and word.

Implications: Halsin isn't thinking of little else besides nature because he's "boring"; it's because it's important to him. (A special interest, one might say.) And when something is deeply important to a person, they think of everything else in relation to that thing; think of a sports fan who constantly uses sports metaphors to understand the world around them.

There's another party banter with Wyll that is telling when combined with what he has to say about the city, too.

Halsin: It is most unfair to pour such scorn on rats - they have their place in nature, same as you or I. 

Halsin: I thought cities were supposed to welcome folk of all walks of life. Clearly I was mistaken.

Implications: Halsin feels everyone has a place in the natural world, yet that the city shuns those it deems different. As someone who has struggled greatly with fitting in/finding a place he "belongs", Halsin feels more sympathetic to nature, where all living things belong, than anywhere else.

I think that when you break up Halsin's love of nature into all the little things it implies, it paints a much more interesting picture of him, personally. It also supports the "Halsin is autistic" interpretation, which makes him even MORE interesting.

[nephalem-da]

Breaking Point

Part 2 (Ending)

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

There was a request of this but I accidentally deleted it, sorry! (ノ_<、) Good thing I read all of it to get the idea of what the Ending of Breaking Point. Read the first one before reading this! \(^ヮ^)/

Genre: Romance, Supernatural, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Angst, emotional vulnerability, mild suggestive themes, references to arguments and reconciliation

Summary: After a hurtful argument, Bill desperately tries to win you back with heartfelt gestures and small gifts, fearing he may lose the one person who makes him feel truly alive.

The days after your argument with Bill were heavy with silence, the kind that clung to every corner of your mind. You hadn’t known silence like this, one that seemed to settle in your chest like a weight, pressing with the weight of words left unsaid. Bill had been a constant in your life, one that brought color and chaos, the very spark that made each day feel anything but ordinary. Yet now, you sat with the silence, unsure if you could move past that sharp, hurtful exchange.

But Bill seemed determined. You began noticing little gestures, attempts that weren’t exactly subtle but spoke louder than any apology could. A plate of your favorite food appeared on your kitchen counter in the mornings, arranged meticulously, almost as if Bill had spent hours making sure each part was perfectly in place. And flowers—ones you hadn’t seen before, each with strange, vibrant petals, materialized in random places around your home. Each bloom had a meaning if you cared to look it up: apologies, love, regret, the longing for forgiveness. Each arrangement a carefully crafted message, like a silent plea echoing through every room.

Bill was giving you his version of a bouquet, every one carrying an unspoken promise, a small fragment of his soul offered to you. The first bouquet, a mix of dark crimson flowers, was tucked near your bedside one night. The petals glowed faintly in the dark, as if they’d been touched by some cosmic energy, radiating his remorse and affection. When you looked closer, a note attached simply read, “I messed up, but I’m here.”

Through all of this, Bill remembered. In the solitude of his own reflections, he drifted through every memory he held of you, from the day you two had met. He recalled the initial deal you’d made—a trivial favor, something he hadn’t thought much of then. Yet, somehow, it grew into something more. He hadn’t expected to enjoy your company, or the odd, inexplicable attachment he felt around you. He remembered all the highs and lows: the first time he’d made you laugh, the nights he’d let his guard down, telling you stories of worlds far beyond anything you could imagine. He was a being of chaos, but around you, he felt something… different, something that made him feel as if he could let his guard down without losing a part of himself.

But now, he feared losing you would mean losing that part entirely.

On your side, things were hardly less complicated. Every day without him brought memories, and with each passing hour, those memories seemed to grow clearer. Life before Bill was simpler, sure, but it was also colorless. Mundane. You could barely remember the moments before he came crashing into your life, turning every day into something unique, something that felt alive and buzzing with possibility. He was unpredictable, infuriating, and sometimes dangerous. Yet, in his chaotic way, he made you feel more alive than you’d ever thought possible.

Gradually, Bill’s gestures began to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. His attempts at reconciliation, the careful thought he put into each act, and the sheer vulnerability he showed softened your resolve. You couldn’t help but feel the love and sincerity behind every little thing he did, and despite yourself, you started to miss him. His playful chaos, his over-the-top laughter, even his sly little comments. Bill had somehow managed to weave himself into your life in a way that felt irreplaceable.

Days turned into weeks, and while he tried to return to his usual self, there was a tension around Bill, one that he couldn't seem to shake. He was spiraling, slowly unraveling under the weight of his fear—fear of being abandoned, left behind, and forgotten by the one person who made him feel human, in a way he never thought possible. His anxiety manifested in restless hovering around your door, leaving little gifts and food, then disappearing before you could spot him. He didn’t know what else he could do, but he knew he couldn’t lose you.

Then, one evening, as he lingered in the hallway near your closed door, feeling as if he were on the verge of breaking apart, he heard it: the soft creak of your door opening.

His gaze snapped up, finding you standing there, framed by the dim light spilling from your room. You looked at him, something gentle and understanding in your expression, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

“Wanna… cuddle?” you asked, voice soft, the words hesitant but full of warmth.

For a split second, Bill’s entire form stilled, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a sigh escaped him—a sound full of relief, gratitude, and something almost like joy. His single eye crinkled in what would have been a broad, relieved grin if he’d had a mouth. He was practically beaming, his eye glowing with a warmth you rarely saw.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said, his tone playful, but there was a softness beneath it, an edge of vulnerability. “I thought you’d never ask!”

He practically floated into the room, following you with something close to reverence, and when you lay down, he slipped beside you with a care and gentleness you hadn’t expected from him. For once, he was quiet, as if he didn’t want to ruin the moment. His arm, spectral but somehow solid, wrapped around you, pulling you close. The silence stretched out, but it was warm, comfortable, each of you breathing in sync with the other, letting the weight of the moment fill the space between you.

You felt the tension melt away, your heart finally letting go of the hurt that had lingered. Bill held you like you were the most important thing in his world, like he couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten a second chance. He didn’t speak, but his grip was firm, secure, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d vanish.

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought I lost you,” he admitted, his tone uncharacteristically raw. “You have no idea… what that did to me.”

You shifted to look at him, placing a gentle hand over his. “I’m here, Bill. Just… don’t make me regret it, alright?”

He chuckled, the sound a little unsteady, and his eye softened as he nodded. “Scout’s honor. I’m sticking to this… whatever we are, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He nestled closer, his usual bravado replaced by something real, something vulnerable. You knew he was still Bill, still capable of causing chaos and wreaking havoc, but here, in this moment, he was yours. And for the first time since the argument, you felt at peace.

As the night wore on, you both drifted into a quiet contentment, letting the silence speak where words weren’t needed. Bill didn’t let go, not once, and you knew that in his own, chaotic way, he was saying what he could never fully put into words: that he loved you, that he was sorry, and that he would do anything to keep you by his side.

[mysweetobsessions]

Let me tell you the small details that absolutely floored me in The Penguin, season 1, episode 4 before the next one comes out.

Spoilers ahead.

Sofia’s hand gestures. Before Arkham, Sofia’s gestures are so femenine and scream spoiled rich girl, they even feel performative at times, except when she’s smoking - a habit she keeps after Arkham. Afterwards, polar opposites. Need I mention the eating? Eating and beyond, after Arkham her hands are no longer playing the part of her previous life which is why they feel more free while also more intentional. (Where’s her acting nomination?)

From normal uncontrolled behavior to unhinged controlled behavior. Let me explain. Before Arkham, Sofía can barely hold her emotions in. She loses her temper talking to the reporter both times and she’s on the verge of crying when talking to her dad. It’s all very normal how much she can’t control her emotions. After Arkham, she’s much more controlled. Her actions are more deliberate and thought out despite the fact that they are absolutely mad (honestly, justifiably so). - she only loses it (so far) when she’s confronting Oz over her brother’s murder, but after what we know, it’s hard to blame her.

Family is so important. Until we all betray each other to protect a horrific man. The references from previous episodes now make absolute sense, like why she hated the name “hangman”. Her mention of “young girls not doing so well in the family” (something like this). The mention of not letting men control her. How much she can’t stand her family and the visible urge to kill them every time they spoke to her. Why she loved her brother so much. And the list goes on.

From Oz to Penguin. In a couple short scenes, they showed us how Oz always felt belittled and his ego hurt (when Sofía asks him what’s he doing *inside* the party, because he doesn’t belong there really). How she tells him he’s “just a driver”. We didn’t need to see this a million scenes to get that small things like these were some stones (of many) that created The Penguin character. I’m sure more is coming in this regard.

Clinically sane? It is an impossible situation to try to convince people you are sane when you’ve been deemed clinically insane. Yet what behavior is sane when you are framed and put in a deplorable place like Arkham? What do you do when the truth is more complicated and sounds less plausible than the lie? Our minds are made to accept what sounds simpler and makes a more coherent story. Proving her competence becomes an impossible task, especially when she is slowly actually losing her mind from the conditions that would make anyone unhinged. I felt her frustration. (I could not personally figure out how I’d manage this if it were real. Anyone got ideas? Share ‘em with me.)

Arkham “rehabilitation”. I know it’s an asylum but it’s also a prison. We been knew that these places probably make more criminals than they “rehabilitate” but damn if that entering sequence wasn’t as dehumanizing as intended. The corruption inside it to top it all off… Even just the noises and screams that would drive anyone mad. (A point for abolishing the prison system here).

Trust is a bitch. Sofía’s downfall is her ability to trust, that’s how I see it. She wants to trust the people around her despite what she’s been through. This shows that a side of her is desperate to find someone to either give her the trust she seeks or to prove her wrong that people can’t be trustworthy. From another angle, this could be seen as her reliving her trauma, by trusting people (or the penguin) over and over as if to try and change the end result (the betrayal). Either way, it kills me.

I’m sure there are other things many people loved but this episode was absolutely fantastic and these are my favorite things about it.

[silverofthunder]

☆ no more pretending ☆

Papa Emeritus II (Secondo) x GN Reader

🔞 MDNI 🔞

summary: It was supposed to be just letting out some steam whenever you needed – just sex – but fate had another plans and things got a bit complicated.

content: 1.6k words, sex mentioned, hurt/comfort (kind of?), romance, just feelings, NSFW (kind of)

What can I say? Hmm, this is quite similar to my other fic called stay with me but I love this idea, setting, whatever this is, and I just had to write about this again.

It was supposed to be just letting out some steam whenever you needed. Just sex – a mutual understanding that this would lead nowhere on emotional part. It was as easy as breathing. You loved how you two could just meet and tell what you needed with one look and then the next moment you were tangled together, exploring each other's bodies, every coherent thought leaving from your minds.

But of course fate decided to intervene and eventually it got complicated.

You noticed it when you were with someone else. Your thoughts drifted off to Secondo and how everything felt with him and you couldn't shake those thoughts away no matter how hard you tried. And then you just couldn't let anyone else touch you the way Secondo had done.

You got confused and frustrated, scared even. Secondo noticed the change in you soon but he didn't say anything. And you tried to continue like you had before.

However it didn't feel the same anymore, your heart aching for something else – something deeper. You tried to deny it, telling yourself that it would pass but slowly, surely, the ache just grew and being around Secondo became hard.

The only thing you could do was take a step back and keep your distance. You just couldn't let Secondo know how things had changed. There was no way he shared those feelings that had blossomed within you.

Days went by, turned to weeks and you did your best at avoiding Secondo. Not every meeting could be avoided but you tried to keep everything as short and quick as possible, professional, using every will power you had to keep yourself from breaking.

And eventually Secondo had had enough. After one meeting he stopped you from leaving the room, pinning you against the wall, eyes boring into you hard. Your heart hammered in your chest as he asked for an explanation.

The words were completely stuck in your throat and you just stared at him, silently pleading him not to do this.

"Please."

That word sounded so strange coming from Secondo yet it had so much emotion that your heart missed a beat. The look in Secondo’s eyes was almost... hurt and your breath hitched as his hands gently cupped your face.

"I miss you."

It was getting too much, all the bottled up emotions mixing and the tears threatened to come. You blinked rapidly as Secondo caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for an answer. If you only had let yourself get lost in his eyes, you would have drowned immediately.

It was new, the way he was acting now. Your steamy couplings had always been so hurried that there hadn't been much talking or softness. It had been rough, bruises, nail scrapes and teeth marks on the skin as you had chased the highest pleasure. And when you had finished, you just had quickly put on some clothes and left to mind your own business.

You knew Secondo wasn't just collected, stoic or rough around the edges – you had seen his softer side whenever he was around children or his brothers. And he had always been kind to you. But this felt different.

You were so used to the less talking, more action thing that you were lost now that you had to use words to communicate. It was much easier to understand the language of bodies – it was simpler and the bodies knew how to respond to the other.

Secondo's fingers brushed close to your lips, making you gasp, and it would be so easy to just forget the words and just fall onto bed and become a tangled mess. Secondo was still waiting for you to say something, his latest words hanging in the air.

"I'm sorry," was all you got out eventually and then you broke free from Secondo’s hold. He didn't try to stop you and you left, hurrying to your quarters. As soon as you got inside, you leaned against the door, slid down to sit on the floor and finally let the tears fall free.

...

A week later there was a small festival held and you didn't feel like going there. You had barely slept as your mind had been racing due to all thoughts and your heart felt heavy in your chest. However, a conversation with Primo changed your mind and you attended the festival. It was nice for most part but it was hard seeing Secondo there, looking all handsome and fulfilling his duties like he was meant to do.

At some point Terzo had come to you, mumbling something about two idiots, and taken a hold of your hand and basically dragged you to one of Primo's greenhouses. You were left standing there completely dumbfounded until Secondo was also brought in.

Then there was a clicking sound of a lock and Copia's familiar voice heard from behind the door.

"It's about time you two speak and pull your head out of your asses."

Your and Secondo’s eyes met and you shifted, nervous. Secondo let out a sigh, stepping closer to you and you drew in a sharp breath. You couldn't help but notice how tired and tense he looked. Your heart ached and you almost reached out to touch him.

However, Secondo thought otherwise and closed the distance between you, stepping right into your personal space and cupping your face. You breathed in and out, slowly, trying to calm your now racing heart.

"I guess it's time for us to stop pretending," Secondo said, slowly running his fingertips along the side of your face. His voice was thick with emotion, eyes shining softly in the dim light.

"What?" you whispered, even though you had a good hunch of what Secondo was talking about. He slid his other hand down, stopping it onto your chest, right where your heart was.

"We both have been fools as we thought that there would never be any feelings involved. But there is, has always been," Secondo spoke, leaning closer to you. "At least on my part."

You blinked, not sure if you had heard right. It couldn't be...

"I..." you started but didn't know what to say. Secondo gave you the tiniest of smiles, brushing his thumb over your lips.

"I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner," he apologized. "But I've never been good at voicing my feelings."

You let out a light chuckle. That was something you both were equally bad at, or so it seemed. Slowly you moved your hand up, placing it onto Secondo’s chest. Butterflies were fluttering in the bottom of your stomach, your heart filling with warmth and a smile rose to your lips as a thought came to your mind.

"Perhaps you can show me how you feel."

Secondo's smile grew, the fondness and relief evident on his face.

"That I can certainly do," he said quietly and closed the gap between you, claiming your lips. The kiss was anything but hurried – there was gentleness, hesitation as if you could break if he was too rough. It was slow, giving you both time to taste each other, feel everything, convey all the feelings you had no words for now.

Secondo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close to him as he could and your hands grabbed his upper arms as he deepened the kiss. It felt like your knees could give out at any minute and you were lucky Secondo was holding you so tightly. Your heart was full, the ache now gone, replaced by the most beautiful warmth you had ever felt.

Something wet fell to your cheeks soon and you realized that you were crying. All the emotions were flooding out and you had to break the kiss so you could take a moment and breathe. Secondo was gently wiping your tears away, resting then his forehead against yours.

Silence fell between you, being comfortable this time. It was a lot to take in, this new closeness, the feelings you never thought would step in the picture. You slid your hands to Secondo's waist, breathing slowly in and out. Secondo placed a few kisses on your cheek, the sweet gesture making you smile and heart soar. It was scary to step into this new chapter in your relationship but you knew together you could learn to communicate differently, a better way.

"This is crazy," you eventually sighed, earning a small chuckle from Secondo. He pulled away, just a tiny bit so that he could look at you, affection shining in his eyes and at that moment you knew that you would never get tired of seeing that look.

"Well, I'm all in for this crazy ride," Secondo said smiling and your brows quirked up.

"Oh, are you sure?" you asked, teasing the man little. Secondo hummed, a grin passing his lips.

"As sure as I can be."

You brought your face closer to his, smiling.

"Good," you said and kissed him, short and sweet. When you pulled back, your expression changed more serious and you lowered your gaze, squeezing Secondo waist.

"I'm scared," you admitted quietly.

"I know," Secondo spoke softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug. "But I'm with you on every step of the way.”

You smiled against Secondo’s chest, wrapping your arms properly around him and listening his heartbeat, the sound of it strong and steady, calming.

Silence followed again and you just stood there in the middle of the greenhouse, embracing, for what felt like a small eternity. If that moment had been a part of a romance novel, there would have been many saccharine words used to describe it. Words that were so familiar to you on pages but didn’t sit well on your tongue yet.

But in time you knew that you would learn to speak of your love.

[yeehawpim]

HI UM i really admire you and your art and i was wondering --

so i really love the way you format your comics, its really straight-forward and lets the reader process every word with ease (which i think adds to the impact of the writing), and that one rue comic with the split colors for the parentheses... how do you do it without making it look so messy?? to bring up another example, the hide-and-seek comic- i love how subtle and genius the call back to hiding behind the door was, it blew my mind... i take a lot of inspiration from the way you format and lay out your comics but for some reason i cant wrap my head around how you do so much with so little (in reality this might just be the result of me wanting to add so many little details for others to find , while being conflicted on keeping it simple, and,,, AGH...) for context : im trying to make a comic about isolation, but i keep filling up the page because i want to add things - when really i know i should be keeping it simple... but other than removing unnecessary details, i want to know what else you do to make your comics so clean and simple yet it rips out the emotions from your heart and has you stare at it as it beats. like... i want that type of impact!! i want to affect others on such an intense level!! i want to induce emotions!!! but how?

(sorry this was long, HAHAHA i just want to drive my point home- again with the 'wanting to add a lot of stuff to prove a point' thing but i digress)

ok first of all that is a huge compliment and it means v much to me, thank you 😭🙏❤️❤️

tbh for me the answer of keeping things uncluttered is paying attention to spacing and eye direction. Spacing depends on timing, if you want an action to happen slowly for instance you can make the space between panels longer, or take more panels for someone to complete an action. There's tricks for directing your eye, if you ever read anyth about focal points (eg biggest contrast, triangular shapes pointing towards what's important), but really with comics I keep in mind you're reading left to right and top to bottom.

The ruehob comic is actually simpler than you think 😅 I already knew which text had to be on the left and right with august's text post. And after that the "lanes" were so narrow there weren't a lot of complicated things I could do, just make sure you still read left to right and saunter vaguely downwards.

when you talk about putting little details, that doesn't necessarily have to distract people. Like I honestly applaud you having the drive to do detailing. You just have to make sure your compositions allow for it. Like if you think about ghibli backgrounds, they're elaborate and beautiful af.

For smth about isolation, my first thought was that you can draw a person in a setting alone among a bunch of objects, for instance. If you keep the person small but surround them with a bunch of detailed objects, it could feel very lonely. Just make sure the person still stands out b/c they're what's important, so for example the background stuff is a less saturated colour, or the person is the least detailed thing on the page. I think that's the main thing, you just have to make sure the things important to what you're saying stand out. Clarity is rlly half the battle when I'm laying things out haha

In school our teacher called this "killing your babies" because it sucks when you work hard on a cool drawing and it just doesn't work out😂This also still happens to me, it's actually partly why I keep things simple so I can work fast and throw out less

Here is a timestamp from supereyepatchwolf's video about Chainsaw Man, which has some of the coolest fuckin layouts

He's got other stuff that talks about manga and how eye direction can work and what cool stuff has been done. Off the top of my head his vid about one piece and his vid about gantz have helped me understand how to cause Emotions. Also I think he has one about Junji Ito that specifically talks about how details can make you scared, if you're into that 😂

hope this helps!

[theminecraftbee]

Hi, here with a vault hunters question — what's the best way to start with the big tech mods if i never played with any of them before (or, haven't played with three of them and lowkey hated Botania)? I'm not *quite* at that point yet, but i want to try them and don't want to get too overwhelmed to play.

it depends on what you’re looking for! first, let me say that none of the big tech mods will become required at any point; production mods probably define your farm-building capabilities way more than your big mods in most cases, and unless you’re playing in skyblock or with grindy crystals you can normally last well into the late levels without needing absurd farms for much (although most people identify a specific pain point they want modded farm for eventually, and this can be a good reason to go into a specific mod). choose a specific thing you want to be the First Task you do with a big tech mod, and focus on getting the steps done to do That Specific Task; that often gives you the path to learn everything you need!

from there, if you’re a beginner with no preferences, my advice is that you will probably want to watch or read tutorials! all four big mods have wikis/guides of varying qualities; botania also has the botania lexicon in-game, and create has the “ponder” feature. these will help you figure out how to play one of the big tech mods, once you’ve decided which interest you!

as for how each mod plays: thermal expansion is less powerful than its cousins, but is far, far simpler. almost everything thermal expansion does is a one-block solution, and I’ve never had to chain more than maybe two machines together to do any given task. you will craft a machine using all components you can craft at a crafting table, provide that machine power, and you’re off to the races! so if you like simple solutions, this is probably the mod, especially since it doesn’t require any mod-specific crafting.

mekanism is all about chaining machines together. it can do a lot of things thermal expansion can do much more powerfully thanks to the ability to upgrade many of those basic blocks into factories, but boy do some processes in mekanism require a LOT of pipe spaghetti, machinery, and steps to get things done. luckily, determining what these steps ARE tends to be fairly simple, as you can just follow backwards in JEI from your intended endpoint to the eventual one or many starting points you need, and there are a lot of video guides, plus a wiki. if you LIKE some of the most powerful ore processing and tech and eventually power production in the game this is for you, but it can be complicated or intimidating at first glance.

botania also, from what I’ve seen, requires chaining multiple machines together, this time in order to send mana from place to place. the hard part of botania, at least for me, is wrapping my head around how to move mana around; once you understand that, I suspect it’s a bit simpler than late-game mekanism, but its logic can feel VERY different from the other three mods due to that mana abstraction. it and create also make the coolest decorative blocks in my opinion, with botania having a lot of cool “natural” blocks.

create is the mod that requires the most “thinking” in my experience to get things to work, but is often the most capable of being cheaply powerful. you will need to use spatial reasoning to figure out how to connect gears together in order to make anything work, and you’ll likely need to use create’s conveyor belts to move items around. this can make doing anything in create feel very complicated if you don’t like it, but extremely satisfying if you do like it, since in create you will often feel like you can use your own, special solution for things, instead of a set chain of machines set up the way anyone else would. a lot of players who otherwise dislike tech mods also tend to really like create, despite it being that deep down! it also has by far the best in-game documentation, with the ponder system on every single mechanical part letting you see what they do in-game, with animations to demonstrate, and it’s probably the most useful all-in-one package of the big mods for the most things, even if not necessarily the best at each of those jack of all trades things it does.

so yes! hopefully this helps you out! all of the big mods have sort of their own playstyle, and maybe this helps you figure out where to start!

[itsclydebitches]

for all that it's very clear RWBY took influence from a lot of anime, the writers sure don't seem to have learned much of anything from it. i'm watching the redub of the classic sailor moon anime right now, and it's insane to me how much better this thirty-year-old anime packed with filler was at things like character arcs and believably redeeming villains and having a main character that is at once childish and yet a great leader who, when the chips are down, could talk some of the worst evils in the universe down from their plans.

if anyone could talk salem out of her plans for world annihilation by just being able to love her, it's usagi tsukino.

Right? Man, I'd pay for a high-budget, animated version of that crossover lol.

That's one of the big arguments of the Why RWBY is Disappointing vid though, using Cowboy Beebop as an example, if I remember correctly. There's no doubt that RWBY has been influenced by a number of classic series, but deliberately mimicking something that worked in another show doesn't guarantee success, particularly if you don't understand why it worked in the first place. I'm constantly emphasizing that stories are whole products made up of a thousand smaller pieces, like a puzzle or a patchwork quilt, and simply slapping one piece down because it looks good in another story isn't enough. You have to carefully build everything around that piece so that it fits into the unified whole. Continuity, world building, characterization, setup... RWBY is very good at throwing out those "cool" moments, but it does none of the work ahead of time (or, just as often, after the fact) to make those moments satisfying outside of the initial adrenaline rush of watching.

Plus, RWBY is over-crowded nowadays. Characters, mysteries, real world issues, and those "cool" ideas have populated like bunnies until, I think, it's easy for a lot of fans to just get swept up in the spectacle of it all. The simpler your story is, the less there is to hide behind, which is why I think a lot of manga like Sailor Moon still rings true 30+ years later. If you do right by your core concepts and prove to the reader (often subconsciously) that your storytelling skills are strong, it will resonate even after new generations have different expectations in their media, or these ideas have become "cliche" in wake of that initial popularity. If we go with a food comparison (always my favorite lol) Sailor Moon makes me think of something like good home cooking. Looking at it now it's simple, it's straightforward, it has some technical flaws, but the comparatively low number of ingredients have all been treated stunningly well and there is an insane amount of love poured into the dish. Meanwhile, later seasons of RWBY feel like a semi-successful restaurant serving a special so long it took the server a week to fully memorize it, rattling off an absurd number of ingredients and fancy techniques used until you're not even sure what the dish is supposed to be anymore. Some diners go, "Wow, what an amazing, clearly high-end dish! And they've included this super rare ingredient which means it must be good." Meanwhile, others are going, "... Honestly, that sounds like Too Much. I'd have preferred a simple, well-done pasta." And all the while the restaurant—which is pretty big and popular now, garnering a lot of critical attention—is trying to pass this complicated, fancy-for-the-sake-of-fancy dish off as the product of a humble, mom-and-pop establishment. No, you used to serve that kind of food: simple, technically flawed in a lot of ways, but with so much love poured into the dish that most diners didn't care. Now people suspect that your chefs are miserable and we definitely know they're overworked, so even if that insane dish would have tasted great to certain pallets, it was doomed before it even left the kitchen.

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Past His Prime

Hey there, hi there, ho there! I’m back. Ended up taking a break from the blog to finish moving and just never got around to it for a while. One of those, “oh yeah, I’ll work on that tomorrow” things where I kept meaning to but kept forgetting. But yes! I am back! And on my update schedule of “when I get to it.” But what exactly dragged me back? New toys from the upcoming “Transformers: One” movie! Today, we’re going to be looking at “Transformers: One Prime Changers Optimus Prime.” How does the latest version of the Autobot leader hold up? Is he a hit or miss? And is he worth the big price tag? Let’s dive in and answer those questions!

Now, as of this article, the movie isn’t out yet, so I can’t spoil anything or say too much about the plot or characters, other than that the movie is about Orion Pax and D-16, the best friends who will become the heroic Optimus Prime and the evil Megatron. If you don’t know who those characters are, then I am very confused as to why you’re reading a review of Transformers toys. Are you that bored at work?

Now, what is a Prime Changer? Prime Changers, basically, are the main figures of the “Transformers: One” toyline. They’re simpler than the collector-aimed “Studio Series” line, and are the off the shelf figures for kids you’d think of when you think of Transformers. No fancy gimmicks, no overly complicated transformations, just a robot that turns into something and back again.

At first look, Prime Changer Optimus Prime looks great. He’s very colorful, blocky-looking, and seems to be exactly what you think of when you think of a young, pre-war Optimus. He has all the expected Optimus details, like the smoke stacks on his shoulders, the chest window, and the wheels on his legs. He’s supposed to capture the essence of Optimus Prime, and he does. Of course, these days, that means he also takes a massive amount of inspiration from the original, G1 Optimus Prime that’s been around since the 80’s and who gets a new figure every single year with no exception, so do keep that in mind. Now, when you get a closer look, flaws become apparent. The wheels in Prime’s shoulders are a different grey than the pant on him, so they stand out like a sore thumb, which takes away from the look. Hollow areas become more noticeable, and there’s nothing particularly new or interesting to compensate for those cosmetic letdowns.

Articulation-wise, Optimus is pretty decent. Very posable, lots of joints, just as you would expect. There’s nothing really shocking or dynamic here. Saying that a mainline Transformer is very posable is like saying ice is cold. Like, yeah, I would certainly hope so. If it wasn’t, I’d have some concerns. It’s important to note, though, that there are some limits on his poses. Optimus comes with a removable Matrix of Leadership that he can theoretically hold in his hands to recreate the classic “lighting our darkest hour” pose everyone does with the Matrix. The thing is, his big chest gets in the way of that, so he needs to hold the Matrix at about gut level. It looks a lot less impressive than you’d hope and a lot more like Optimus is rubbing it on his stomach for luck.

Speaking of his waist area, while he does have a waist joint, his crotch design actually limits how much the waist can rotate. And by “limits,” I mean he can barely rotate. It’s kinda a letdown, because the parts are there, but the toy itself stops you from using them.

So, this is a Transformer, so let’s talk about transforming. I hated this part. It wasn’t complicated, true. It was very straightforward, with a few extra steps like rotating the arms and opening the legs, and the process integrates Prime’s ax accessory into it, so that has a place to store, which is nice. The problem is that you gotta line up some tabs just so to make sure the whole thing pegs together right, and that was a living hell. I spent more time trying to get those tabs on his legs and the holes on his back lined up than I did on any other step of the transformation. It was frustrating as hell, and I really don’t wanna do that again. Also, part of the transformation is unfolding the truck grill from behind Prime’s chest. It’s a simple process with no extra steps, but if you have short nails, it’s gonna be more of a pain than it should be. Getting the axe into position for vehicle mode takes way too much fiddling and adjusting to be worthwhile. Transforming this guy was really annoying and not all that fun. As for getting him back to robot mode, that’s a damn chore. Prime’s back piece doesn’t like doing a lot of what it’s supposed to, and parts pop off constantly. Unless you’re very careful, expect Prime’s arms, chest, and back to pop off at least once during transforming, which especially sucks because reattaching the back is a pain. It took a while before I was able to transform him even once without any issues, and I remain convinced I just got lucky.

Of course, Optimus Prime turns into a truck. It’s basically an alien version of the truck he always turns into. If you’ve seen one G1 Optimus Prime truck mode, you have a solid idea of what this dude looks like. The truck mode doesn’t roll well at all. The back wheels just barely clear the legs to roll unencumbered, to the point that if you get a figure with the molding off by even a smidge, you’re outta luck.

Let’s talk accessories. Optimus comes with his axe, two smokestacks, and the Matrix of Leadership. The axe looks pretty good. Between the sculpting and color, it looks like a mechanical weapon charged with energy, and the sculpting and paint at the base make it look like the axe emerged from Prime’s palm.

It fits over Prime’s hand, with a peg inside the base that Prime holds onto, The problem here is that once Prime has it, he doesn’t wanna drop it. It’s a snug fit. Too snug. The way Prime’s hands are attached to his wrists means that you need to be careful taking the axe out of his hand, or else the hand will pop off. I find that pressing against where his hand connects to his wrist helps hold the hand in place while I pull the axe off.

Prime’s smokestacks are meh. They can be removed from his shoulders to be held as a pair of pistols that are blatantly just smokestacks in his hands. When you transform Prime, they will want to come right out of there, so keep an eye on them.

The Matrix, though, is awful. Just, really awful. It looks and feels cheap, which is a shame considering it’s the damn Matrix of Leadership. It’s also inconsistent about staying in Prime’s chest. Sometimes, it fits pretty well. Sometimes, it feels a bit loose. But the thing I really hate about it is that its plastic and design are definitely cheap. This became clear to me the first time I transformed Prime. When transforming Prime, the instructions say you can leave the Matrix in his chest, because its storage spot is a peg on the back of his truck grill.

The instructions are a sheet of lies. The Matrix takes up just enough space where it will get knocked out when transforming Prime, or , worse, it’ll break. The first time I transformed this figure, before I even took pictures, one of the handles on the Matrix snapped off.

This actually revealed how cheap it was to me. See, the break was a clean break. TOO clean. It seems like the handles of the Matrix are actually separate parts that were glued onto the Matrix, and that glue’s not exactly the stuff of legends. When I looked at the break, I also noticed that it looks like the Matrix itself is actually painted over blue plastic, the same kind Prime’s axe is made of. The Matrix is very small, and the plastic is very thin, so any amount of force on it’s going to break it. Hell, the plastic is so weak and cheap that when the handle broke off, I didn’t even notice. I didn’t feel any resistance or indicator it was in the way of the transformation. It was there, and then it broke. As easy as I breathe with as little notice. If you wanna keep it safe, just take it out and set it aside, only to be used for poses.

And now, of course, the main issues I have with this figure. I know plastic’s gotten more expensive, so toy companies are cutting costs. I get that. But by God, this figure feels cheap. The plastic feels so cheap to the touch that it’s the first thing my wife commented on when she touched Prime. When you start looking him over in your hands, you notice how hollow the toy is. He LOOKS very solid and bulky, like Optimus should. This makes how light he is feel surprising, and how hollow he is feel like a letdown. Some parts, like his chest plate are thin enough that I can see the shadow of my hand on the other side. Also, he’s just so damn small, He’s frustratingly short. I’m gonna sound like an old man here, but I remember when a $20 Transformer had some size and heft to him. This Prime’s smaller than the $10 ones I had as a kid and still do have. Between the cheap plastic, the parts popping off, how hollow and short Prime is, and how easily the Matrix broke, the whole toy just feels super cheap. 

“Transformers: One Prime Changer Optimus Prime” is available at mass retail for a starting price of $20 and is aimed at ages 6 and up. Would I recommend him? Absolutely not. This is really not a good toy. The plastic feels cheap to the touch, the transformation’s a pain, parts pop off way too easily, his guns are literally just his smokestacks held at a different angle, the Matrix is small, thin, and breaks easily, his waist is impeded by his own body, and he’s just so damn short. I can’t in good consciousness tell people to spend $20 on something so damn small that doesn’t even bring anything new to the table and, if anything, is a significant downgrade from what’s come before. Like, I compared this to older figures I have. It’s literally more money for less toy. This figure was such a letdown that it made me not want to get the other Prime Changer figures. I was actually turned off from an entire series of figures because of how annoying and disappointing this one toy was. He looks good from a distance, but then you get him in your hands and all the flaws, big and small, come shining through. Definitely pass on this one. I know, I sound like an old man. “Things were so much better when I was a kid.” Well, I handed this figure and some of my older ones to my wife, someone with very little interest in Transformers, who didn’t grow up with the figures or shows and has no problem telling me when she thinks I’m completely wrong or being that old guy. She actually agreed with me completely. Compared to the older toys, this one’s really not good. It’s more money for a toy that is significantly smaller and of lower quality. I know this is what’s out there, and this is all kids and collectors have on the market, but that doesn’t mean you should throw money at something that’s clearly not good. You want a great Optimus toy? Go on eBay. There’s plenty of fantastic old Primes from past movies and shows there for decent prices that WON’T break in two seconds and actually have some size to them. Next time, who knows what we’ll be looking at! Hopefully something I don’t feel an immense case of Buyer’s Remorse over. This is JS signing off and wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

[imakemywings]

Summary: Amarie would appreciate Finrod being less of a distraction. At least he's willing to help fix the problem he caused.

Length: 3.7k

AN: Party sex for @silmsmutweek day 3!

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Photo credit to Dainis Graveris on Unsplash.

The outfit was understated, by Finrod’s standards. Of course, it could also be that Amarië’s memory rendered him more aureate and ostentatious than he truly had been, but she tended to believe the image in her mind’s eye was accurate, and that Finrod had merely chosen to dress down for the party. He was far less keen to have attention drawn to him these days, given the mixed reactions of the Amanyar to his return, and she knew he had come along to the party in part for fear his absence would cause a greater ruckus than his presence.

            Everything was so complicated nowadays, and it made her think longingly of the past and Finrod’s simpler love of soirees and summer bashes. However, this complexity far outstripped the loneliness she had felt in his absence in the centuries since his departure. No matter how many other people she filled her life with, there was no one who could ever fully replace a person once lost, was there? There had always been a Finrod-shaped emptiness, and she could not say who she missed more: her fiancé, or her friend.

            So the outfit was simple, and Finrod’s hair relatively conservative, and he wore half as much jewelry as he might’ve before the Darkening, and he was still utterly resplendent. His eyes no longer held the glow of Laurelin and Telperion, but there was an outward light that seemed to shine off of him in Amarië’s estimation, a gentle yet iron beauty that would not be denied, no matter how simply he dressed. She wondered if the others were envious.

            Ah, but she was thinking too much on it now, and had lapsed out of the conversation at the table. But how was she to focus on another conversation about grass cultivation within the city limits or price fluctuations on wine in Valmar—or even murmur about Finrod’s lurid stories of Middle-earth—when Finrod was a table away in conversation with one of his grandfather’s advisors (part of his effort to help repair relations with the Teleri) and the lamplight so coquettishly complimented his profile, and the line of his neck beneath the weight of his golden braids? His robes snatched in at the waist, accentuated with a belt tie, and with the way he leaned forward on the tall table, fetchingly outlined the curve of his backside.

            Amarië was staring then, but fortunately no one was paying her so much attention it was observed.

            There was one thing that certainly hadn’t changed since their youth—Finrod’s remarkable loveliness, and how weak at the knees it made Amarië. (How surprised she had been to hear he hadn’t wed in Middle-earth! How many poor néri and níssi had he disappointed with that, she wondered?)

            From there her mind drifted to the last long weekend he had spent with her in Valmar. Instead of staying at her home—what with her parents’ less than charitable attitudes towards Finrod’s return, and their downright displeased attitudes towards her ongoing engagement with him—they had stolen away to a rented room in the mountains, and Finrod had kept her busy the whole weekend.

            He was gesturing with his hands as he spoke to his conversational companion, and Amarië couldn’t help but sigh dreamily, remembering how it felt to have those hands skimming up her thighs, or squeezing her breasts from behind, or combing through her hair afterwards while tender songs of fresh spring flowers and warm ocean currents tumbled from his lips.

            “I’m going to fetch more wine,” said Mancar, looking to Amarië. “Anything for you?”

            “No, thank you,” Amarië replied distantly.

            Too much recollection on Finrod’s efforts to make up for lost time, which she noticed only as she turned to say another word to Mancar, and realized she’d do well to stay at the table for a few minutes, unless she wanted someone to know just how intently she had been thinking about her fiancé. Flushed, she twirled her empty wine glass by the stem and tried to think of something else—anything else. Grass cultivation, for instance.

            Her mind was resistant to her efforts to move away from that line of contemplation. For so long now, her thoughts of Finrod had been only fantasy, locked into a world where they were incurably separated. But now—now it wasn’t so, and her treacherous mind knew that her fantasizing had the possibility—the distinct possibility—of becoming reality—and soon.

            Just not soon enough for her body’s preference.

            She tried injecting herself into the grass conversation, but her mind was only half on it, and her arousal was not dissipating nearly as well as she had hoped. Perhaps unnoticeable enough for her to slip out of the salon? Her mind seemed to be taking perverse glee in inserting obscene images of Finrod into her thoughts the harder she tried to think of other things.

            At last, Amarië decided she needed a moment alone to get ahold of herself. She excused herself graciously from the table and turned quickly, striding out and trying to keep her robes arranged to shield herself.

            Blasted Finrod—he had always managed to get to her, and too often without even trying! She strode deeper into the host’s home, finding a quiet, unused study room to let herself into. None of the lamps were light; the room was illuminated only with the light of the moon beaming through the uncovered window. Amarië paced over to the small table that crouched gracefully below the sill; she rested her hands there and breathed deeply.

            “Be not unreasonable,” she murmured. When the party was over, she would have plenty of time for this, surely! When deep breathing did not quell the fire in her blood as quickly as she wanted, she tried pinching herself in various places. This also proved ineffective. Groaning inwardly, she considered she might just have to wait and hope her absence wasn’t noticed. She wasn’t sure it was likely to be, with Finrod there.

            Naturally, he had noticed her departure. She felt him probing at her mind, wondering where she had gone off to, within only a few minutes of her absence. Fluttering, she brushed him off; it was nothing, he should stay and enjoy himself; she would rejoin him as soon as she could. Finrod’s mind withdrew. He liked to think he was not as forceful as the other Finweans, but his ósanwe presence was still stronger than most others with whom she’d spoken and when she wished to keep secrets from him—which was rarely ever, and usually not for anything serious—it was fantastically difficult.

            It wasn’t fair anyway, that he was so woefully beautiful, and she was quite sure she’d had a similar thought at ten years old when she had seen him for the first time, after her family moved to Tirion and she started her new classes.

            Now in the relative privacy of the empty room, it was all the harder to convince her mind to stop feeding her pictures of Finrod’s golden, tiara-bedecked head between her legs; or thrown back against the pillows; or stuttering and gasping against the crook of her neck. Her body’s arousal did not die down in the least; rather she was so hard she found herself leaning forward against the table as if in intent contemplation of the moon, for the pressure of the edge against her increasingly demanding sex. Her hips shifted slightly and she swallowed a groan at the friction of the table edge, fighting the urge to rut against it like an animal.

            She had worked so hard not to give him a glimpse of where she was, and yet she heard the door slide open, heard his footsteps enter the room.

            I told you it was fine! she complained to him, gripping the edge of the table tightly, not turning to look at him. She was keenly aware of how uncomfortably tight her clothes were presently; she could feel the lace of her underwear digging into the engorged flesh.

            “Are you not feeling well?” he asked, and his voice was the very picture of loving concern, which absurdly only increased her arousal. Perhaps he simply wished to return the favor she had granted him lately—which was recognizing when he needed to leave. Crowds made Finrod uneasy now, and at times the memory of death and Middle-earth gripped him so tightly as to feel more real than where he was, and Amarië found it was best to get him somewhere private in these moments.

            “It is no cause for concern,” she said, but as soon as he drew near, he could discern the nature of her problem.

            “Ah,” was all he said, and Amarië flushed, and ached.

            “Say it not like that!” she cried, flapping her hands. “This is your fault!”

            “I am sorry,” he said, but the corners of his mouth were twitching with the effort it took not to smile, his warm brown eyes twinkling. “And I dressed tonight specifically not to cause trouble…”

            “Tch! As if such things could disguise you,” she sighed, her heart aflutter despite her laments. “Beauty such as yours was not made to be dimmed, Findaráto.”

            “Still,” he said, sobering slightly, “I regret causing your distress, however unintentionally.” Amarië sulked at him. He touched her hand and tilted his chin up. “Perhaps I can help…?” he offered, his upper lip a perfect Cupid’s bow, the lower deliciously full and pink.

            Yes, yes, yes, Amarië’s body pleaded as she tried to summon the words to turn him down. He was like the heat which preceded a flame; he needn’t even touch her directly, only get near, before she felt the effect of his fire. Nevertheless, she tried to hold her ground, despite the allure of his arms, despite the fact that she would be sitting around here quite some time before she was comfortable going back into a crowded room. She held back, and Finrod began to withdraw.

            “Ah, but you’re right, and we ought to wait,” he said, and for whatever reason, this acquiescence changed her mind. She cupped his cheek with one hand and surged forward to lock her lips against his. Finrod melted into it at once, sliding his arms around her waist to hold her to him, and the desire in Amarië’s gut leaped eagerly, driving her nearer to him, seeking the pressure of his body against her.

            “Drat,” she breathed when they parted. There was still a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, and she knew him to be pleased that he could still have this effect on her even after such time apart, even if his apologies were genuine.

            “Does that door lock?” he murmured, his fingers stroking her hip.

            “I…I didn’t check.” Amarië broke away from him and hurried over to fidget with the door until she’d snapped a lock into place. Then she turned to look back at him, her heart thumping away in her chest, a flush all about her face and neck. Finrod leaned back against the table, a boyish smile playing about his lips.

            He beckoned her back over, and she felt the warm invitation of his mind, not pressing at hers, so much as brushing: a gentle, loving stroke.

            She returned to him and Finrod gripped her waist and kissed her again, slower and more deliberate. Amarië throbbed in absence of his touch where she longed for it and she shifted nearer, trying to get one of his feet between hers.

            “No patience tonight, I see,” he laughed, pulling back from her. “I shall care for you!”

            “Patience, you say, when it has been so many years since I enjoyed your touch,” she said, flickering her eyes at him, using a tone in combination with this particular lament which rarely failed to stir him to do whatever she was asking. “How can I, sweetheart?”

            Finrod kissed her again, leaning nearer so there was scarcely any space at all between them, and Amarië wound her arms around his shoulders, breathing in the smell of his body beneath the perfume.

            “I am but a zither in your hands,” he murmured with no displeasure in his voice, studying her face a moment before he kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

            “Ah…I still know you, Ingoldo,” she breathed. “You may be different now…but you are still you.” Which had been no certain thing! When first they met again, she had not been sure. Would it have been so strange, she had wondered, for his experiences abroad to have changed him entirely? And yet, while there were many new facets to this reborn Finrod, the core was still there, still unchanged—her Findaráto, sweet and gentle and caring, curious and quick to laugh and generous, and if he was now tempered with greater suffering and the wisdom of long struggle, he was still himself.

            “I hope so,” he said, but his voice had gone sober, and he stilled at his kisses. One hand gripped her waist more tightly and she felt that wavering uncertainty which flickered to the surface so often with him since his return.

            “You are,” Amarië said more firmly, putting her fingers under his chin to tilt his face towards her. “Still you are yourself. And still I love you.”

            There was that sorrow, seemingly beyond Finrod’s power to explain, in his eyes again, but then he drew near her and claimed her lips once more and Amarië dissolved into the passion of his touch.

            “I love you too,” he whispered between kisses lavished on her mouth and cheeks. “How I love you, Amarië—” There was a rustle of fabric and Amarië felt his hand seeking an opening in her robes, to her enormous relief, for she was so hard with his kisses and his declarations she found it difficult to think. After a moment, she gripped his wrist and moved his hand to where she wanted it, unable to restrain a sigh of relief as his hand rubbed against her hardness through her clothes.

            “Do you want—”

            “Yes,” she answered before he’d even gotten the question out. “Findaráto, please,” she said. “I need—I can’t—”

            Finrod kissed her neck once more, and she thought she felt the curve of a smile in it.

            “I have you,” he reassured her. He surrendered the search for the correct ties to loosen her robes and simply hiked the skirts up around her waist, revealing to her embarrassment how desperate she was for attention. He couldn’t give her the grace of pretending otherwise either; she watched his lips part slightly at the sight of her cock straining against the white lace of her underthings, and she whined.

            “Ingoldo,” she pleaded. It was too dark for her to see the pink which tinged his cheeks, but it was hard to miss the reverence in the way he traced to fingers over the swell in her underwear, making Amarië whimper. She was torn between wild impatience, and being very touched that he was so taken with her.

            “How long were you at the table with this?” he asked when he seemed to come back to the moment, his eyes flicking up to hers. “Not long, I hope!” She pouted, but was pleased he was acknowledging the depths of her discomfort.

            “I was watching you with Aranyo,” she said.

            “And was I showing something I didn’t mean to?” he asked in feigned concern, twisting around to look at himself.

            “Findaráto, you know perfectly well how you look in that robe,” Amarië replied, her lower lip jutting out. He smiled, and leaned in, sliding his hands over her hips beneath the robes, warm and soft against her bare skin, skimming over the waistband of her underwear, drawing her nearer.

            “Perhaps I am no longer accustomed to being spoiled with so much of your attention,” he said.

            “You might return the favor,” she said, trying not to plead.

            “I shall,” he assured her lowly, leaning in to mouth at her collar. “I shall.” And with this, he palmed against her through the lace and Amarië moaned, had a flash of soul-piercing concern that someone walking by might have heard, and was immediately then distracted once again by the press of Finrod’s hand. “It would be unkind and improper indeed not to attend my lady,” Finrod murmured, cupping her in his hand and giving her a light squeeze that made Amarië gasp, her hips jerking automatically against his hand as she tried vainly to shuffle nearer to him.

            “Ah…ah…Ingoldo…”

            “Mm…” Without further demand, Finrod wriggled his hand down amongst the lace of her underwear and Amarië half-stifled a cry of pleasure as his hand closed around her.

            “Oh, yes,” she gasped, bucking against his hand again, one hand fisting in the shoulder of his robes. “Oh yes, please…” Finrod began to stroke her, and Amarië whined and whimpered, desperately trying to stay quiet. She pressed her face into Finrod’s other shoulder, her body shuddering against him as his hand moved along the length of her sex, fingers teasing the underside of her slowly before he jerked his wrist in a sharp movement. Amarië let out a choked moan into Finrod’s shoulder, now pressed so tight against him that she’d nearly backed him into sitting on that table.

            “I have you,” Finrod murmured to her, his free hand rubbing her lower back. “Let me take care of you…” Amarië could only gasp raggedly as Finrod drew her cock out from the constriction of her clothes, lifting her head to gaze wide-eyed on him. For a moment he was still, looking into her eyes, then leaned up to seal his mouth over hers and Amarië moaned freely into his kiss as his hand began to move again, with greater speed, and she gave into the desire to thrust into his grip until she was nearly fucking his hand.

            Then Finrod slowed with a quiet laugh.

            “We shall have to match our rhythms better than this, my love,” he said when they’d been moving at odds again.

            “Apologies,” Amarië breathed. “I only…” I only want you so much I can’t think and it’s all your fault! But there was a smile tugging at her lips as well, and when their eyes met, it grew.

            “No apologies,” Finrod assured her gently, kissing her cheek, caressing the dark bloom of her birthmark. She was never entirely sure if he paid more attention to that side of her face than the other, or if she only imagined it. He went back to work and Amarië wound her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as her whole body tensed with her mounting arousal.

            “Ah…Ingoldo…” She tried to warn him when she felt her sex beginning to drip. “Don’t—ah—don’t let me—oh—don’t let me make a mess of you,” she panted, trembling, biting her lip as Finrod’s firm hand brought her so so close to the edge of what she wanted.

            “Shh, I can manage.” Finrod’s fingers caressed her between the legs, reaching back between, and then he took her cock again and Amarië buried her face in the crook of his neck as she toppled over the edge, muffling her moans as pleasure wracked her body.

            “Ah…how beautiful you are,” he said softly, and Amarië was aware of the total sincerity in his voice, felt the press of his lips against her ear. It took her a moment to catch her breath and draw back to see a conspicuous stain on Finrod’s robes.

            “Ingoldo! You said you had it under control!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands.

            “You must forgive me,” he said and she could see him trying—thought not very hard—not to laugh. “I was only a bit distracted, darling.”

            “Let me…” She took a handkerchief and tried to wipe the evidence of her impropriety off him, and he was not at all helpful, giggling and shifting from foot to foot. “You can still see a damp spot,” she said crossly after she’d tried to use spit to fix it.

            “I’m sure no one will notice,” Finrod tried to soothe her, taking the handkerchief and stowing it in one of his pockets. “It will be fine with a more thorough wash.”

            “What if someone sees?” she fretted.

            “Amarië, it’s fine,” Finrod insisted, catching her by the waist to straighten her clothes up and make sure she was presentable. “I have done far more to spoil my own reception among these Elves than anything you could do,” he pointed out gently. “If anyone says something, I shall blame the wine,” he added cheerily.

            She met his eyes.

            “I suppose we should get back,” she said, finding herself now curiously reluctant for all her earlier rush. Finrod nodded slowly, but made no move towards the door. Amarië caught his face between her hands and kissed him deeply, until his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her touch. “Do you want me to…?” she offered softly. Finrod made a jittery gesture with his hand and shook his head.

            “No, not now,” he said. She nodded, and instead went to unlock the door so they could make their way back to the party.

            “Are you feeling better now?” he apparently couldn’t resist teasing her as they slipped out of the room. “Will you focus on the conversation, or shall I have to rescue you again?”

            “Rescue! As if it was not your fault to begin with!” Amarië exclaimed.

            “I can hardly be expected to know—”

            “—perfectly aware of the effect you have—”

            Finrod ceased his efforts and was just smiling at her then, with that look of some wonder in his eyes, as if he still could not believe all this was not some rosy dream.

            “Oh, hush with that,” Amarië sighed, stopping in the hall to kiss him again, her touch light and gentle. Finrod leaned in and he was so delicate, so vulnerable in the way he allowed himself to be with her; she wanted to cup him in her hands as she had done with beetles as a child, and keep him away from all the harsh edges of the world, for all that she knew he had experienced too many of them already. “Come on.” She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze, and so hand in hand they made their way back into the salon.

[dumbassalex]

The more Deadpool comics i read, the less i feel like Ryan Reynolds fits him and that makes me feel....odd, like kinda left out from all the love this casting is getting. He was really good as Wade Wilson in X-men Origins, his Weapon 11 is terrible and an insult to the character of Deadpool tho.

But when he got his own movie he was just Ryan Reynolds, and i know, i know "ofc he is, he's played by Ryan" sure but....that just feels off for me, and i wanted to know why, and i think i got it.

Firstly it's the way he talks, Ryan has this tone of voice that doesn't fit the way Wade usualy talks in the comics, his kinda high smooth sarcastic tone feels off to me. Partly because Wade doesn't sound like that at all, Wade has a very rough voice, sounding like Demi Moore, his voice sounds like wet gravel, according to Cable and Blind Al. Ellie, his daughter, said his voice sounds weird, whitch Wade said it's because of the scar tissue.

Also the way he talks, his jokes and the tone of his voice doesn't fit the DP energy. Fabian Nicieza, Deadpools co-creator and writer of most of his 90s appereances before Kelly wrote the first run, said he imaged Wade to sound like Denis Leary, whitch for the ones not aware, is a very unhinged and agressive sounding man, and it fits perfectly the way he talks.

Also Fox!Wade's humor isn't really the same as comics!Wade, movie Wade uses references, complicated swears and names with alot of sarcasm. Comics Wade meanwhile?

Not so much, he also doesn't even break the 4th wall as often usualy, some of those aren't even too obvious 4th wall breaks.

One thing i feel like the movies got right is Wades softness, he's a very emotional man, especialy when it comes to relationships and other people.

One thing the moves didn't quite get right is Wade and his violence problems, in his first comics he was fighting with his violence, his past, he was trying to be better after years of being a villian, and that change is often brought by his nee crush or love interest or idol, because he wants to be better for them, even if he usualy doesn't feel worthy of their love, yet he tries and tries.

There was a deleted scene in one of the movies where he and Vanessa were in Mexico and Wade lost it and killed the scamming doctor and it perfectly showed Wades issues.

His relationships were also all made simpler, Weasel is his fuctional friend, Ness is his girlfriend, Al is his funny roommate and friend. Back then Wade and his relationships weren't simple, he was like Moon Knight, he experimented, he wasn't very known, he was allowed to be odd and weird and out there. And i blame the game tbh, because now the movie was heavily influenced by what the internet thinks Deadpool is and the character is suffering for it now. Maybe i am just a jaded edgy 18yo but that's how i feel.

Now you're propably thinking what would my solution be, well i got a solution in mind, but you most likely won't wanna hear it...but i will still tell you in the next post.

[ilynpilled]

this is an incoherent and unedited stream of consciousness but what i also take away from the whole process of mythmaking in the series is that it is in dialogue with the meta in such an interesting way.

ofc the series itself is a ‘song’. it is about stories and their power. it is about seeking meaning in fantasy. thrones alluded to this with the ending but it fumbled pretty hilariously at it. but i think there is an interrogation of truth inside of this whole dialogue. like a false ideal presented in fiction vs ‘truth’ in fiction. propaganda vs meaningful humanistic existential depth etc. jaime is a very existential character. he wants to make himself into a story. he wants to make his life have meaning because he dreads his existence and himself as a human being. he has one of the most severe existential crises in the series. “why would the stars want to look down on such as me?” is that. the stump is about an empty space that he needs to fill. it is about severing a previous identity, it is a metaphor for so many things in his life. but he in particular has such a layered relationship with stories and how they function and what his role in them is. he hates lies. he hates songs and stories for lying to him. he hates the story that he became, it destroyed his identity. and yet after hope is rekindled he once again desperately grasps for an unachievable false ideal to redefine his existence so he can stop hating himself. i reiterate, a figure like “arthur dayne” is as much of a lie as “kingslayer.” like these are all lies or incomplete truths. there is no goldenhand the just either, just the ugliness of a stump, as he subconsciously concludes in the dream in affc. human beings are more complicated than myths. so i cannot help but think that the whole idea of legacy in jaime’s story is more about the eyes of the reader and himself and certain characters rather than the eyes of the world that he is in. that feels like such a rich metatextual mess that works so well thematically. deconstructing and reconstructing the knight from the stories. what i find interesting is that the songs and myths within asoiaf are also often about ‘dehumanizing’ the subjects, but the series itself at its foundation is about thoroughly humanizing its characters. the songs are about interpretation, and they are not meant to be defining or all encompassing. they can often present a false reality that upholds a status quo rather than depicting truth. but they can also hold some universal truth in their depths that humanity can thrive for. that feels like a very intentional conversation the text is having with itself and its genre.

anyways yeah he is deeply concerned with ‘legacy’ and what mark he will leave. what the whole point of his existence was. he wants to redefine his existence, and he is desperate to make that definition something redeemable. i generally view the whole process of redemption and reformation as something unanswered and continuous. being better is not something you just “become” to me. it is not about being a bad or good person deep down, i do not think that is at all how george views human beings, it is about choices you make and keep making. with a character like jaime it should not be something that clearly and straightforwardly concludes with a simple answer. being better is a choice that has to be made every day. i have said that i am not that fond of the redemptive heroic death thing because again that is not something he is afraid of in the text, it feels very straightforward, and it is something he craves because in some ways he thinks meaning lies in that, not even a heroic death but just death where he dies with a sword in his hand. and yeah it is easier for him because it is simpler than confrontation and the grueling untangling of knots. fighting things physically is easier. being defeated physically is less scary. but i do not necessarily mind it if he dies eventually after key confrontations and some form of meaningful atonement and a form of existential victory. i do certainly get the feeling from the text that his life is on a timer right now and he has to make do and atone with the time that he has left. he is an older generation character that is attempting to actually redefine his existence, not just make something out of it like many of the other protagonists dealing with identity. but i cannot help but really dig the idea that george could be subverting that aspect of his character and he might conclude with the open and difficult reality that redefinition and reformation and redemption is not as straightforward as just ending your story on a better note and leaving a decent legacy. it could be about having to live with your flawed humanity and what you are as a whole and continuing on an unending inconclusive path of change anyway. that is more difficult and real, and accepting that reality requires existential courage.

songs are songs. jaime hates being a dehumanized figure. the kingslayer is like a figure from a song. much of the core of his character is that he is a human being that was in many ways ruined by being turned into a larger than life figure and myth. he is the villain and monster in the songs and stories. and that is the role he fulfills in the series up until this point too. during asos he realizes he wants to be the hero again like he used to dream as a young boy (the dream was always lingering, that romantic soul never really goes away, much of the JC dynamic for him is rooted in that fantasy, this idea of creating a false ideal: a song, something that gives his existence meaning). he thinks these things have meaning again in a deeper and more conscious way. but the series is not simple like the songs in it, it goes inside of the heads of these figures and it contextualizes them. how you are remembered by history is ultimately out of your control. again, those songs are not really ‘truth’. jaime deals with this so much. he is trying to write a story right now: a story that he chooses. that is what the white book is about. but he explicitly says he would rather slash it into pieces than fill it with lies. he keeps repeating he is sick of lies, which is a loaded statement concerning so many things in his arc. and the white book page is meant to represent his existence. i would like it if the whole idea of how jaime is remembered is more about the meta rather than an in universe thing. i would not mind jaime leaving a “bad legacy”. i do not think it matters how the songs remember him. what matters is where he actually ends up as a human being and what paths he had taken. i like it more as a conversation between him and the reader primarily. maybe the “heroes will always be remembered: the best and the worst and a few who were a bit of both - one of us is like to live in song etc.” is more about the impression of the reader, and the song is the series itself. that whole passage is very unsubtly meta anyway, we are supposed to point at him as we are reading the page, just as he points at the kingmaker. i am sure he is gonna be a figure that lives in song within the text too, i just do not think that is really about truth or what is ultimately defining for his story. like i would find it poignant if his legacy is a mixed bag or even a not particularly good one in history, and if he is never contextualized or redefined in the eyes of his world, but that will not change the reality of his actual story that we get to witness through his eyes and the eyes of other key characters. it makes it more meaningful to me bc then it becomes about an internal existential battle rather than an external one. and we know it is deeper than that for him already: “he did not think the maesters were like to confuse him with Prince Aemon the Dragonknight when they wrote their histories. Still, he felt curiously content.” i think his existential victory should be internally driven rather than defined by an uncontrollable external lens that often falsifies reality anyways, and never understood the people that thought him regaining his “honor” in the lens of westeros is what his arc’s interrogation of redemption is about. affc deconstructs that for him. like that is what his story arc played with a lot already. and his atonement is more about specific relationships with specific characters, not the eyes of history. what history hates him for is one of the most heroic acts in the series, that is not what has to be addressed and reformed.

what is also apparent to me at this point is that asoiaf doesn’t really have concrete conclusions and all encompassing rigid answers concerning the concepts that it interrogates. like obviously the characters have a different view of things. there are distinct philosophies that can all be reasonable and can contradict each other. there is a certain amount of relativism that is inherent to the structure of the story. george is giving the reader a bunch of perspectives, and allows them to decide for themselves. he is not gonna hold your hand and give you a straightforward answer on most things. take for example the whole:

"Are you saying you are monsters?"

"I am saying we are human. You are not the only one with wounds, Lady Brienne. Some of my brothers were good men when this began. Some were ... less good, shall we say? Though there are those who say it does not matter how a man begins, but only how he ends.” (this one especially is very tied to Jaime considering who it is said to and where and when etc)

vs

“A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward.”

and many many other statements made by different characters at different stages and said to different protagonists dealing with the same question.

what i am trying to say with all of this is that i do not really have a preferred concrete endgame in that sense nor do i expect george to give a clear answer to certain questions proposed in his arc, but i do have certain conceptual preferences. i do not want him to end up “rewarded” or absolved, i think a lot of people project that onto people arguing that his arc is about redemption and an interrogation of redemption. idk if i would really like his story ending with him dying and then history remembering him as an “honorable” man because a passage written in the white book by a person he saved like in the show. i guess it is not that bad because it was obviously not his intention or goal by the end, but still. the only thing i really want for him is a well written existential victory, which is not really about absolution to me. he has been in a state of existential defeat and cowardice for like 20 years, locking himself into moral nihilism and false fantasies as a result of the incoherent moral structures of his world and his trauma and dissociative tendencies and rage over how he is understood. i just do not want his story to end with that again. that is what i would view as cynical and “pointless” and cyclical in an empty way. like i am not sure i want key decisions that may lead to tragedy to be self sabotage either. i want it to be a choice with meaning to him. i think it would be along the lines of accepting and confronting truth and reality and not letting hope be defeated by it, and continuing to believe that choices hold meaning despite it all.

[bonefall]

Looking into a lot of plant species/fruits/any edible things for a cat group to eat for a non wc project and I was wondering how you go about searching for all the information you scrape up? Trying to find good sources while also not spending days on research is trouble for me atm

Especially for the ovens thing that a sentient cat species can realistically make. Did that come form just researching a ton of early ovens/cooking tools and finding what ones could cats realistically make themselves?

Unfortunately, my research does take me several hours over many days. One of the reasons I decided these guides would be free for all to use, is exactly in the hopes that I can help prevent others from falling down the "research rabbit hole" like I always do, so they can spend more time creating

General Flora and Fauna

But when it comes to good sources on flora and fauna, I narrowed myself down to a loose geographical area and I look for field guides and surveys in that space. Anything produced for Northern Wales, the Western Midlands, and Northwestern England can become a treasure trove of information for me.

The Mersey Forest network is really helpful specifically, they do a lot of work restoring English forests and I learn a lot of really interesting things about forest health from them

Working Backwards; Plants

There's also times I start with a spice, or chemical in mind and work backwards. I had a much longer list of HRT herbs but then cut it down by literally checking them off a list when they couldn't grow in the right environment. I don't have the notes anymore, but I remember clearly that Saw Palmetto was on that list. Then from there I simply google "Is X Safe For Cats?" and if it gives me a "NO! Upset belly :(" result, I try to isolate the specific chemical to see if it's deadly toxic or just a plant.

Cool example of that is potatoes. Mashed potatoes are actually fine for a cat to eat, but raw potatoes are deadly because they contain solanine, which has to be cooked to be neutralized. Yeast, also. Raw yeast will kill a cat, but the baking process kills yeast when cooking. This is why I decided if I ever use baked goods, it will be with unleavened dough. Peonies got axxed for any medicine ever because of the chemical paeonol.

Technology; Bushcraft

This actually takes the most time of anything, because it's quite intensive. Epilepsy so far has taken me the longest time because I, admittedly, knew a lot less about epilepsy than I thought I did, and realized that while writing the guide and took extra time to educate myself... but when something like that doesn't happen? Bushcraft takes the longest.

That's because things that seem simple are actually quite complicated, and I try to understand the process behind something before I adapt it to cat paws.

You may have noticed I keep mentioning flax but haven't made its entry yet, and this is why. I literally learned how to process flax from scratch; and every time I hit a tool that was too advanced for cats, I asked, "Is there a simpler way to do this?"

As an example, there's a step in flax processing where you soften the grass into a workable fiber, and it uses a tool called a Flax Break like this,

And, personally, I think that's a bit too advanced for the vibe I'm going for. So I said to myself, "Ok that's super-duper but CAN I just smash it with a rock"

So I dug deeper and tried to find someone who processed some flax from scratch, you know, like, just in their backyard or something. Went through some blogs and youtube channels focused on neolithic reconstructions of flax processing, and finally, I DID find a person who just. Beat the flax with a hammer, and was still able to scutch+heckle+spin the flax into linen.

But anyway, this process is actually why I'm so reluctant to cite sources in the posts... I already spend days, unpaid, doing this research and it's fun and I really enjoy it, but I can't also vet the social media of every Robert "I Live In The Woods" McGee to make sure they aren't a whackadoodle who thinks the Earth is flat before linking to one part of their blog in a tumblr post. And, knowing bushcrafters, it is probably a fair amount of them

Not even to mention how long the guides, which are meant to be straight-foward, would get if I infodumped every little neat tidbit I came across (I removed like 4 paragraphs of essay material from the flax post already and it's not even halfway done)

But, I do come across lots of really neat resources in my research, especially ones associated with some specific craft, like Ulster Linen who's been spinning flax for 4 generations and has a lot of great education about the history of linen on their site, and ThoughtCo who produces high-quality articles with education on... nearly every topic honestly, but I learned a lot about them for linen processing.

And lastly, when I'm researching bushcraft, I try to start with one of two "types" of searches. Ovens, as an example, "History of Ovens England, History of Ovens Wales" type searches, OR "Ancient Ovens England, Pre-Anglo Ovens Wales, Medieval Ovens, Anglo-Saxon Ovens, Celtic Ovens"

Basically: A "History of Region" search, or a "Timeframe" search to begin with

THEN I go on to "History of Ovens," or "Neolithic Ovens," or jump straight into "Bushcraft Ovens," or even end up following concepts from the first search I did. Personally, I find that first step extremely important because I have a specific region in mind. It gives me a "feeling" for what the early tech is going to look like, including the materials used, and even the sorts of resources they built their tech to process.

On that note, when I finally get around to describing WindClan's oven, you may be really interested to see how they set it up to handle the way they...... hmm. You know what I'll hold onto that one, as a surprise.

I'm going to be collaborating with @mokusai soon to make some instruments for Clan Cats, so I'm going to be looking at a lot of traditional instruments from the area with this method in mind

But anyway there's a walk down my process. I hope this is helpful in some way, I wish I had a Guide To Making Guides but my deep secret is just that I have a messy, curious brain that reads a lot

[aruanimess]

*blows a kiss* 47, 62, 64, 77, and 91

Hi!!! *kisses and hugs*

ask game referenced

47. what story are you most proud of?

I'll have to break fandom lines for this one, since I haven't published much in the snk fandom, but it's definitely my rhaenicent fic Remorse is memory awake (idk why I'm linking it nobody here cares, but oh well). I'd never worked with two different timelines in the past, but I'm supremely proud of how that one turned out. Chapter 3 especially has this huge brawl that breaks out between the characters where everyone's involved and the rising tension is just excellent.... sometimes I worry I'll never write anything half as good again.

62. what’s the weirdest reason you’ve ever shipped something?

I thought I was weird for shipping Armin and Annie lmao, but turns out there're many of us. And I started shipping them because I took the Female Titan Arc as a thinly veiled metaphor (and not so metaphor) about Armin falling in love. But turns out, my weird ass assessment was kind of canon? Isayama is just as weird as the rest of us, it seems.

64. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve read?

For someone who agonizes over titles, I sure don't notice them a lot lol. Most of the time I remember a fic from the premise rather than the title. Right now the only one that springs to mind is These City Lights by Katsy0c0, because I feel like it captures the tone of the story perfectly.

77. how do you write kissing scenes?

Hmm, I guess it depends on what I want to achieve with it. Is it the first kiss? is it the 1000th kiss? the last kiss? Also, is it meant to be sexy, is it meant to be romantic, casually intimate, tragic? I go into more or less detail based on the answers to these questions and the language changes as well.

91. how has your writing style changed over the years?

This is something I don't really pay attention to until I read my older work. Other than the technical stuff (better sentence structure, more complicated and yet simpler plots, better handling of tone) I think the main difference is that these days I'm trying to be more vulnerable and honest on the page.

I used to write a lot of things that sounded cool, but with very little substance to back them up. Like I still write this sort of thing, it's just that now I'm allowing the characters to do most of the heavy lifting without forcing them into impossible scenarios, and I believe the end result is more impactful that way.

[goodmode]

For the minific ask, D. Subtle kindnesses, and Razor from genshin?

[x] D. Subtle kindnesses.

this one got away from me a bit and turned into a series of people going out of their way to be nice to razor and to each other and also to klee. entirely fluff with some bonus cringe fischl

People are very nice.

They don't have to be, which at first he found confusing. The wolves would warn him of other humans in their own way, teeth flashing and voices growling their disapproval whenever people approached. He knows now that the pack is right to be cautious; he has witnessed humans being unkind to each other. To him, as well.

But for the most part, at least here in Mondstadt where they know him (or at least know of him), Razor finds that people at large tend towards kindness.

Klee brought him a book today. She pulled him towards the tree she likes, the one with the forking branches, and Razor nestled down in the little alcove between the broad roots and Klee tucked herself into his lap and they struggled through the reading of it together.

His Teacher likes it when he tells her he's been practicing. He doesn't like to practice usually, but he doesn't mind practicing with Klee. Klee tells him over and over that she loves-loves-loooves to practice with him, too. When they practice together it doesn't matter that it's a children's book - Klee can't read anything more complicated yet, either, which means reading it with her isn't embarrassing.

They make it halfway through the book when a letter falls out from between the pages. Klee scoops it up and waves it at him with so much excitement she almost hits him in the nose with the envelope, which is purple and smells strongly perfumed.

"Oh! Klee forgot! This is for you, but I forgot to give it to you! Sorry, Razor!"

He thinks this might be why it was tucked into the book instead of into her backpack. People are smart like that for Klee. They do little things for her, like they do for him sometimes. He's glad. If they didn't he would get in trouble for biting people.

"Thank you."

He tears the letter open with his teeth and pulls out the paper inside, shaking it open with the hand not tucked safely around Klee's middle.

"What does it say? Can I read?"

He thought the letter might be from his Teacher (it's purple, and it smells) and he's half right.

Dear Razor,

I discovered one of our dear friends sulking yesterday evening. It seems the two of you had a little spat! You and I know there's nothing I dislike less than to pry…

Razor struggles through the negatives for a moment, until finally reading it out loud. It makes more sense out loud. She does this sometimes: leaves little tricks in her writing for him to puzzle through. It's annoying, but he's getting quicker at figuring them out. (Klee giggles triumphantly when he does. She was struggling, too.) He moves on.

…but I think I'm allowed to be pushy if she's going to mope around in my library and take up my valuable napping time.

Do give her half a chance, Little Wolf.

Much love, Lisa

The writing changes halfway down the page. Then it changes again, from an incomprehensible series of loops and swirls and fanciful curls to a much simpler, more legible style. Razor sniffs at a suspicious-looking burn mark where the switch happens and catches the faint whiff of ozone. Likely the shift was made under duress, then.

In aggrieved address to One's venerated knight and kin in thunder

Dear Razor,

I didn't mean to make you upset. When you got angry at me I thought it was because you didn't like  didn't want  hated the Prinzessin thing  I thought you never wanted me to speak like that again and it made me very upset as well. I didn't actually want to banish you from the realm. I just said that. I say a lot of things.

Miss Lisa told me you can't understand most of the things I say when I speak in the cadence of Immernac like that, and that's why you were getting so frustrated with me. I understand now and I must offer my most sinc I'm very sorry. I wasn't making fun of you.

I'm sorry about the messy letter as well. Miss Lisa is making me keep the crossed out parts and I am very embarrassed. PLEASE get rid of this letter after you've read it!!

Please come back to Mondstadt so I can say sorry in person. I won't get Oz to say it for me and I will buy us lunch at Good Hunter if it might cheer you up.

Sorry again, Amy

By the time Razor realises he perhaps shouldn't be reading this out loud with Klee, it's much too late. They finish the letter together, amid much giggling from Klee, and by the end Razor feels himself smiling.

"Fischl's a weird girl," Klee declares brightly. She twists in his lap to peer up at him with wide eyes. "I didn't know you two fell out with each other! Are you gonna go back now, Razor?"

Razor hums softly, pretending to think it over.

"Don't think I'm banished any more," he decides. This is a nice way of saying that the memory of snarling at Fischl from on top of an Adventurer’s Guild table doesn't feel quite so much like raw shame now. Yes, he thinks he can go back.

"Good!" Klee claps her hands. She whispers conspiratorially, as if there's anyone out here in Wolvendom to listen: "Can Klee come to Good Hunter? Miss Sara will give you free desserts if she sees you're with me!"

Razor had been feeling fairly sour before Klee showed up. The world is mostly made up of people being nice to each other, though, and a lot of news of this tends to travel to him through Klee, one way or another. He should probably pass it forward.

Huffing a sigh, Razor lets his chin rest on the top of her head and holds the letter out in front of her.

"Yes. But we can finish the book first." Klee makes a high-pitched squeaky noise that he has learned to identify as a delighted laugh. "Then you burn this writing. I think Am- I think Night Sky Princess wants it secret. Then we take Wolfhooks with us, for Knights of Favonius."

He snatches the letter higher when she grabs for it, and pats her shoulder with his other hand.

"Careful!" he insists, and then lets her take it.

Klee only singes his hair a little bit. This too is kind.

[thistransient]

- So I went to the Taiwanese trial class with my friend. It was taught by a little old lady who was nice enough but gave me some mild flashbacks to those harrowing weeks with the Mandarin teacher of a similar age. Most of the session was her explaining the history of 台語 in Taiwan, with a side of trying to force the 8 tones and counting from 1 to 10 upon us via rote memorization. I felt a bit frustrated and not entirely thrilled, my friend was miffed that the school hadn’t explained the price they quoted was for the trial class only. We’ve decided to give it a pass and try a different school, although our scheduled trial there is on hold on account of the teacher falling ill. In the meantime my friend has begun to contemplate taking group Japanese class instead (as his partner and her kid are Japanese), which is much more widely available. I am tempted. Do I need to start half-assedly learning yet another language? Probably not. Do I want to divert my energy from Mandarin to whole-assedly learn Japanese? Also not really. Is there a high chance of following through nonetheless? At least I’m self-aware about it...

- Job applications here largely require a photo, and I need a haircut but I’m afraid to go back to the place I went in August for the big chop. The guy started cutting it while wet, then broke out the blow-dryer and kept snipping til he was satisfied, but because my hair is curly and I do not own styling product more complicated than a comb, it reverted immediately to a vague dandelion shape and took several months to actually resemble the reference photo I’d provided. The thought keeps crossing my mind to simply shave my head entirely. I had it buzzed to a 3 some ten years ago after a dye-job gone wrong and did not enjoy my appearance. Of course I look different now, and hair grows back, but the struggle between wanting the catharsis and radical change (not to mention less mess in the shower drain strainer) of a head-shave, and fearing the hassle of growing it all back out if I do truly detest it is raging inside of me.

- After coming back from Korea I may have spent one whole day languishing in bed and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter as a meal before slowly reconvening daily activities. I have been meeting some friends and going out, but I end up needing one day of hermit-like recovery for every outdoor social endeavour. I have yet to implement any kind of proper schedule (beyond “try to eat three meals and go outside at least once”), leading my friends to recommend I start by contemplating my greater, overarching goals for life. Every few years I come round to the notion of attempting a STEM degree (which would require redoing undergrad, but, as they say, “the time will pass anyways”). I think it would be really engaging to do a program taught in Chinese, and possibly motivate me to overcome my deficiencies in the math department, which is what always puts me off the whole scheme. Scientific terms are so much simpler in Mandarin because they’re extremely 顧名思義 (just as the name implies); English really shot itself in the foot with all the Greek and Latin. I don’t even need to check the dictionary to figure out 光合 means ‘photosynthesis’... Will I actually follow through with this, and live out my days happily studying trees and avoiding small talk with humans, or will I continue to trundle through life intermittently trying to teach English between bouts of autistic burnout? When I put it that way, the answer seems obvious, but this is without factoring in all the bugs that live in trees... Also wasn’t I trying to convince myself to go to grad school for what, translation? linguistics? library science? something? just a few months ago? Maybe overarching life goals are a red herring at present, and I should just get a job first and then see what kind of things I’m interested in when I have consistent disposable income to pursue them at length.

- I am, at the ripe old age of my mid-30s (I’m rounding up since my birthday is next month- again, so soon??) being forced to reconsider what it means to like someone. Perhaps on account of being socially inept and spending all of my formative years in Catholic school, I took for granted that it was that painful, infatuated pining one feels for attractive strangers or casual acquaintances who generally don’t reciprocate. In the past couple years I began to experience the strange phenomenon of having great affection for friends I’d gotten to know slowly and who became increasingly physically appealing as time wore on, but I wrote this off as Mystery Emotion X because it lacked that frantic obsession I was accustomed to. Now I suspect this may simply be a healthy manifestation of romantic attraction. I’ve often struggled with exactly what identity label the intersection of my gender, attraction pattern, and neurodivergency might land me under. I think the plot is thickening... but I will put off pursuing further clarity by going to the BDSM bar instead.