#but i reckon he is quite good at storytelling

[oceanwithinsblog]

— unsolicited update on my doctor who speed run / first watch —

i'm at s12 ep4 and i've gotta say i really genuinely like thirteen + i love the upgrade in photography and anything visual BUT the writing got so much worse T____T i can literally count on a single hand the episodes i've liked with jodie as the doctor so far and THAT'S SUCH A PITY BECAUSE THE CAST IS AWESOME

[jello-library]

The Roommate Program (PT 2/?)

Finally part 2!! This one focus more on the reader/self insert!

Also I want to try writing the letters so you can get a feel of what being written instead of just getting vague descriptions!

I hope you enjoy it! 💛

Your first letter from your pen pal was…something else…to say the least. Paired with a prickly friendship bracelet. You felt like you opened Pandora's box with that first letter.

You sigh as you sit down in your office chair looking down at the blank sheet of paper nervously. What in the world do you write back? I mean, writing a letter about yourself is easy but continuing conversations is harder than it looks. What do you say now “Hey I heard you went to solitary confinement was it fun?” Like how you continue talking with him?!

Twirling the pen in your hands your wings twitch and flutter nervously. You joined the program because being a past patient at the Theraprism who managed to opt out of the recarnation ceremony praise the axolotl for that one. You thought it was nice to try to give back to them you know to show that redemption is worth the effort! You felt like you had a pleasant experience there or maybe because you were more cooperative than your peers.

But after the copious amount of interviews and several months of being on the waiting list.

You finally were met with a small envelope congratulating you on your approval into the program and your pen pal. You thought things were finally going well for a chance.

Until…you were brought to have a one-on-one conversation with THE Axolotl themselves you felt like maybe this wasn’t a good idea anymore…They wanted to talk about your pen pal, Bill Cipher. You were somewhat familiar with the name mostly being associated with the chaos he left in his wake.

He was a force to be reckoned with.

Was…

“He is someone who is quite..um…complex..” Look up from your teacup to glance at the other being across the table. The word “Complex” still feels like an understatement to you. The axolotl smiled down at your eyes laced with slight concern before continuing.

“I’ve read your file..” Shit. ”You seem to have been the star patient during your stay. Self-admitted leading to 500,000 years stay before you were released. The top storyteller during puppet hour.“

You can feel yourself getting hot with embarrassment as you sink into your seat. “Yeah, Dr.Oswald says he misses my shows…” You swirl around the remaining tea left within the cup. You don’t know what to say or why they brought you here to begin with. Did all the other participants go through this conversation as well?

“I already know why he joined the program. But I hope for a better outcome than another trip to Wellness Void and I think you can help me with that.”

Looking back down at the blank sheet of paper the pen feels more lighter in your hand now. Just breathe and relax if you mess up you can fix it later.

Dear Bill,

Sorry for my first letter being so plain I can honestly admit I’m a bit nervous about messing this up. I never knew how to talk to someone without it feeling awkward so this is a new step for me. As someone who used to be in the same position you’re in I feel like I can you some advice on how to make your stay less boring! Like, if you want to get out of group therapy it’s time to start taking advantage of art time!

Start doing big projects that take up time with this when art time is over you can ask to stay. But it’s important to say it so can present your piece to the next time group therapy session! Use this advice sparingly those counselors in there are nice but they ain’t dumb! Also if the vending machine is still in the cafeteria hold down on the C button it should give you an extra snack but it’s sadly randomized.

Well, I hope this letter finds you well and also thank you for the bracelet I hope to make you something special when I write to you again!

Sincerely,

██████

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #3: Tempest

“Cutting it close there, traveler. Blizzard’s right on your heels, no?” The guard’s voice reverberated behind her metal faceplate. Locke didn’t miss the way she sized him up through the gap between faceplate and coif, icy blue eyes flicking up and down. Though her eyes lingered on his weapons, sympathy tinged her gaze as she appraised him, wet and half-frozen as he was.

“Inn?” he inquired through chattering teeth.

“First building on your left. I recommend you get a hot bath as soon as you can.” She motioned toward a nearby stone structure, tall by Locke’s reckoning but utterly dwarfed by the tower of stone, glass, and light looming over the settlement. Some sort of device, a long tube mounted upon the parapet, crowned the tower. A cannon, he supposed. “And welcome to the Observatorium.”

Locke sniffled, muttered his thanks, and marched past.

Closer to the inn, he spotted a familiar wagon set off to one side, wind and snow batting at its canvas roof. It seemed Sosonado had made it to safety. Good tidings, if only because it meant Locke would be paid. He hoped the chocobos who’d pulled the wagon were being kept somewhere warm.

Locke shoved the double doors open, a gust of air following him into the room and banging the doors against the stone before he pushed them shut again. The noise drew the nearest eyes to him, but not much more than that.

The common room, small though it was, was a whirlwind of activity. A varied throng of patrons — civilians, travelers, off-duty guards, and men and women wearing tall hats — crowded the hearth and spilled out from there, seated in the nearest chairs and leaning against the closest tables. They were absorbed in their own conversations, a mess of tangled chatter Locke wasted no time on unraveling.

“He loaded his firearm! ‘Six bullets,’ he told me. ‘One for every pair of these scoundrels.’ I know, I know! An impossible feat!” a voice, all rasp and gravel, recounted.

Locke glanced in the direction of the storyteller. At the center of the little audience, standing atop a round table and waving a mug about the size of his torso around as he told his tall tale, was Sosonado. Dark, spiky hair in disarray, drooping mustache and mutton chops matted together and wet with ale, but whole, happy, and thriving with his audience, captive as they were by the budding snowstorm.

Looks like he’s doing just fine. A job well done indeed.

“The gunslinger leapt from the wagon.” He hopped several Lalafell-sized strides, a pantomime of Locke’s own leap earlier that day, beer sloshing from his mug and onto one of his spectators. The unfortunate man’s yelp was drowned out by Sosonado’s impassioned narration. “Before his feet even touched the ground, bang! Two, nay, three Butchers slain with but a single single shot!”

Locke shook his head and squeezed past several of the onlookers, as well as a harried server balancing a pair of trays, to reach the bar. The bartender there looked no less vexed than the server, gesturing at Sosonado with slender, calloused fingers.

“A bell ago it was eight of those Blue Butchers. Before that, six,” she scoffed. “I reckon this gunslinger will have killed twenty of the wretches with an empty musketoon before the night’s— oh, dear, did you get caught out in the snow?”

Locke dropped onto a stool and almost sighed at the sudden sense of relief. Finally off his feet. “Yep. You sell baths? Hot, preferably.”

“Package deal with renting a bed, usually. I’m afraid all of those are spoken for, we’ve got quite the crowd on account of the storm coming, but we’ll get you a bit of privacy and a tub regardless. Free of charge.”

Locke nodded his appreciation. “And food?”

A smile flickered across the bartender’s round features. “Don’t get too greedy, food and drink will cost you. But I’m no swindler, they’ll be cheap enough. Nice blade like that, you can afford a bowl of stew or two here, yeah?”

She nodded toward the gold filigree handle of the gunblade peeking out from his shoulder. Locke spared it only a glance, noting the flecks of ice melting along its length. That probably warranted maintenance.

“Sure,” he grunted. “Bath first?”

“That seems wise,” she agreed. “Fiocant! Prepare a bath upstairs for Mr…”

“Teabrook.”

“Mr. Teabrook! And loan him some clothes, would you? Poor thing looks like an ice sprite fell into a vat of red dye! No offense.”

Locke wiped his nose against his sleeve. “That bad?”

“Pretty bad,” she admitted. She motioned as a server returned and traded their empty tray for custody of Locke. “Here he is. Fiocant will take care of you.” Fiocant was a raven-haired Elezen fellow with traces of a paunch beneath his tunic and enough height to have a tendency of looming. He acknowledged Locke with a small dip of his head. “If you’ll follow me.” Locke slid off of the stool and began to take a step, then he caught himself. Seki always said that one thing, didn’t he? His pro-verb? Good done to others is… uh, good. That didn’t sound quite right to Locke, but it made sense in a circular sort of way. So he dug through his new gil pouch and set the largest of the coins on the bar. “Thanks.” He hurried off before the bartender could reply, loping across the common room to catch up to Fiocant. A gust of frigid air met him as Fiocant pulled the doors open, reintroducing them both to the snowstorm outside.

“Wait, wait!” Heads turned, eyes following Sosonado’s wild gestures. They fell on Locke, more numerous and curious than before, and any reluctance to leave the warmth of the common room behind evaporated. “That’s him, that’s the gunslinger! Hey, mer—” Locke swung the doors shut and followed Fiocant up the stairs to the second story. He took them two at a time, his path made just a little easier by the Elezen’s larger feet and heavy boots. The journey took all of a tick, but he couldn't pass under Fiocant’s arm and into the room quickly enough.

He found himself in a set of conjoined rooms, each smaller than the common room below but furnished in its same plain, practical style. Fiocant stepped into the next room, and Locke left him to it, beelining instead to huddle before the nearby fireplace. He kicked off his boots, peeled off his socks and right glove, and shoved his digits forward, just shy of cooking them. Heat washed over them, and feeling crept back in, a dull ache to replace the numbness.

“The tub is in the other room,” Fiocant announced, filling the doorway with that looming physique of his. He removed a crystal from his pocket, hues of red glimmering beneath the surface and stepped forward to offer it to Locke. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Kinda,” he responded.

“Mm,” Fiocant hummed, his lips in a line. “Well, if you’ve forgotten, just apply a bit of will to it whenever you’d like to reheat your water, yes?”

He dropped the crystal into Locke’s waiting hand. It was warm to the touch, like a coin that had been left out in the sun. “And do enjoy your bath. There’s a change of clothes in the other room for you as well.”

Locke waited only long enough for Fiocant to step aside. Then he was off, scurrying through the adjacent chamber and into a little room large enough to hold a wooden tub, a bucket, and a clothing rack. He didn’t bother waiting for the door to finish shutting before he began to disrobe, casting aside layers of damp cloth and leather and his metal vambrace and spaulder. The room was a flurry of noise, wet thumps and ringing clangs and the splash of displaced water as he dropped into the tub, warmth washing over him from toe to jaw before he sank further into its embrace, letting it chase away the chill on his cheeks and in his ears. Only his left arm remained above the surface, its wooden exterior thrown over one side of the tub, fingers dangling limply.

It was with reluctance that he resurfaced for air. He combed his claws through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and shifted in the tub until he was as sprawled out as he could manage, heat and aches crawling across his body, weighing his limbs down. His gaze wandered, tracing the stonework before settling on the window.

Snow danced in the air outside, swaying to the hectic beat of the shutters and the baying of the wind. It was the first song he’d ever known, before even his mother’s lullabies. It was his constant companion in the forest and the mountains, his only company through the lonely years every Wood-warder experienced.

Locke sank lower into the water and let the storm’s song carry him off to sleep.

[cucumberteapot]

Across the Spiderverse - End Credits Analysis

Good afternoon, everyone. I am back again to discuss this amazing film we all love and I wanted to talk about the end credits. Typically the end credits signify the end of the film but in this rare case, I feel there is a lot to speculate about the visuals and what they could mean for the future film. Afterall, the next installment will be called '"Beyond" the Spider-verse' after all. Beyond canon. Beyond animation and live-action. Beyond narrative conventions in film and storytelling.

So let us begin... one last time.

We are introduced to the end credits with the beautiful violin of Metro Boomin, Roisee and A$AP Rocky's 'Am I Dreaming', invoking Miles' dilemma of belonging to Spider society, hiding his identity from his family and the inevitable challenges he faces and will later face in the next movie. Personally, I'd like to interpret these visuals as Miles' actually dreaming in conjecture with the song's title, or an artistic representation of Miles' headspace. However you interpret it is up to you.

Regardless, this sequence takes place in a surrealist void and we see Miles' spiderman logo spray painted onto what we think is his suit but in actuality is one of Spot's spots. Miles is an artist and customises his costume accordingly, but when we learn it's on a spot, it conveys how Miles' personal and superhero lives are interconnecting and the dangers that pertains.

Then we see Miles properly and he is clearly overwhelmed by this new reality he has to navigate thus hefalls through one of the spots. This sequences makes the effort of conflating Spot's spots with the dimension travel portals and as we see throughout, they represent the uncontrollability of Miles' situation and the moralities of the characters going through them.

Thankfully, Miles is able to catch himself from falling any further. He slings his webs from what looks like buildings but are instead more spots.

Gradually the spots disintegrate, forcing Miles to keep swinging. As Spot threatens in his dialogue and his vision in Mumbattan, he is disrupting Miles' home dimension and forcing him to see him as more than a "villain of the week". Even if Miles goes home, his home will not be the same after the Spot's interference.

But even though Miles keeps moving, it's not enough and we see Spot's giant hands reaching through his holes to grab Miles and presumably pull him through them. I already talked a little bit about Spiderverse villains and their hands in a previous post so you can read more about that here. But here Spot is dehumanised and characterised by his hands, becoming a force of nature by the end of the film that Miles will need to reckon with.

And Miles does by jumping through the black hole in Spot's equally giant head. No longer is he trying to catch Miles or bat him away, but waits for him to attack. Miles leaps through him but he doesn't harm the Spot. He is still powerless against him on his own and so he keeps running, this time avoiding white spots or spotlights instead of black one, perhaps reflecting the inversion of challenges he will face in the Earth-42 dimension.

But then he is distracted. Miles is stopped in his tracks by another titan - the Earth-42 spider that bit him. On first watch I thought the spider was the Go-Home Machine but I feel the same imagery applies. Miles never choose to be bit. To be Spider-man. And he didn't choose to go to the Earth-42 dimension. All of these things were by the consequences of someone else's decisions or consequences. He quite literally can't fight against these components.

Unable to fight back, the Earth-42 spider bites down on Miles like when he was bit and sends him crashing through the floor, creating more spots to fall through. Interesting though when Miles falls, he falls upwards, which if you're aware of the upside-down imagery of the Spiderverse films you'd know that when Miles takes his 'Leap of Faith', he is falling but the camera pans it upside-down to make it look like he is rising to the city - to his responsibilities as Spider-man.

In this case, the inversion is happening. Miles is now Spider-man but he is falling upwards and backwards - he can't see where he is going on this new journey. Then we get one of my favourite transitions in this sequence and that is when Miles stops struggling and goes through one of the spots to become Prowler.

Man, what a cool shot.

But yes, I think the way Spider-man and Prowler deal with the uncontrollability of their situation if interesting here. When we first meet Prowler in the film, he is 100% in control of the situation regarding Miles' capture. But here (and perhaps internally), this isn't so much the case. as Prowler ascends he lets his body go limp as he is engulfed in purple - the colour represented by Prowler and Aaron Davis. Meanwhile Miles' backdrop is blue which I believe represents his father (he wears a blue uniform and a blue shirt in ATSV) as well as half of the Spider-man colours - blue and red. Note: Rio wears a red shirt in this film as well so this would signify that, yes, Miles is strong and therefore Spider-man because of his parents. Furthermore Miles struggle in the blue (father) could represent his struggle to save him from Spot while Prowler's limpness is because his Jefferson is dead.

However, while hued in Prowler purple, we see Rio's large head watches anxiously as a small Spider-man adapts to his situation and reaches upwards while multiple Prowlers in the background don't move at all. I don't think it's too difficult to interpret what Rio is reacting to. Rio is likely reacting to learning who Spider-man and Prowler are, but her expression is not so much as fear but concern for her son/s. Likewise with Spot and the Earth-42 spider, Rio is magnified in Miles' mind. By the end of the film, he summons the courage to tell Rio he is Spider-man, but it wasn't enough. Now Miles needs to reconcile with this alternative identity as the Prowler. An identity that was a villain in his dimension and who might not be willing to reveal that information to his Rio.

As Miles ascends, he sees his father basked in a red background (danger, blood) and likewise, he is giant. Once again all these people in Miles' life are overwhelming for him and are constantly just out of reach. When I watch this scene, I am reminded of the Andrew Garfield's Spider-man trying and failing to save Gwen Stacy. Similarly, Miles reaches for his father but it's not enough, and it doesn't help that the very person trying to prevent him from saving him is waiting through one of the spots.

Much like throughout the movie, Miguel assumes a predatory role as he watches for Miles before fully jumping through the hole. He then swings along to catch up with Miles before appearing as another giant force to contend with.

Interestingly, Miguel stops swinging and instead claws at Miles to catch him. Like the Spot, Miguel serves a similar role in threatening Miles' existence as Spider-man by trying to control him and fit him into some kind of dichotomy. With Spot, it's becoming Miles' nemesis even though Miles doesn't really care. With Miguel, it's making him experience a trauma based on self-projection and as Miles says, "an algorithm". Because that's the way it has to be. It has to be this big tragic origin story with nemesises and trauma.

But then Miles turns around with a response. No. We don't see him turn to face Miguel (we have to think this because Miguel just disappears) but after watching the movie, we know Miles doesn't view the Spider society with the same rose-tinted classes anymore - and this includes Gwen.

Speaking of, we see Gwen swing from portal to portal, presumably in search of Miles but is unable to find him. They swing in opposite directions, implicating their own separate journeys throughout the film but unlike the other characters beside Prowler, Gwen is scaled the same size as Miles. Pink is often used to signify romance and I believe this speaks to their reconciliation in the next film, but interestingly Miles does not seek out Gwen is return. Even if they do become a couple in the next film I feel like Miles' perception of Gwen has definitely changed and he no longer has this sketchbook-drawing idea of her anymore.

But instead of seeking out Gwen, Miles comes face to face with his reflection in a spot. He's confused for a moment before taking a step back and seeing it's Earth-42 Aaron. In the first film, Aaron was a source of comfort for Miles when his father didn't understand him. Now his living-ghost serves as another obstacle in his path and a reflection of who he could've been if not for the spider bite. This is further emphasised by how Aaron is framed exactly like the Earth-42 Spider, and in the next movie I feel like no matter how much Aaron and Miles loved each other, Aaron's influence would've led Miles on a very dark path if not for the morals instilled by his father.

Then Miles runs through another spot and is being chased again by giant versions of Miguel and Spider society. Specifically, they run after him, reminding us how Miguel is "not like the others," and his influence of the other Spider-people is detrimental to the Spider-man identity.

But then Miles swings away from them and we see the Spider-people again but scaled to his size, showing us that in the end how Miles embodies the Spider-man identity better than any other character in the film - "You're the best of all of us, Miles."

But even though Miles is swinging along with the rest of his Spider counterparts, he dimension travels through one of the spots or portal and this time it's a choice. He's not struggling anymore, he's letting the portal take him to where he needs to be and that is into the eye of a young Miles Morales from the first movie who doesn't have his fade yet. Miles remembers Rio's words about looking after his inner "little boy" and before we can pull out to see that little boy's full face...

The camera turns in another cool transition around the back of Miles' head to reveal Prowler standing face-to-face with Spider-man, both masked but not assuming any threatening body language. While Spider-man and Prowler were on unequal footing by the end of ATSV, here there is a sense of self-reconciliation and understanding. That no matter how giant Miles' problems are with the Spot, Miguel, Rio, Jefferson, Aaron or Spider-society, he will always have himself.

Roisee sings the bridge of 'Am I Dreaming' during this part and it completely encapusates Spider-man and Prowler's dynamic. Especially the lines, 'I choose me now, What's wrong with that?' - Straight chills. There's just so many layers.

Coming to an end now, the camera pans around Spider-man and Prowler disappears, presumably letting him return to his dimension, and Miles runs through his hoodie from the first film when he took that first 'Leap of Faith'.

This right here is the defining moment of Miles' Spider-man identity. It wasn't getting bite, it wasn't Uncle Aaron dying, it wasn't the training from Peter and Gwen and it certainly wasn't Miguel denying his identity.

It was right here on that rooftop when he decided to take the 'Leap of Faith' and chose to become Spider-man.

[landgraabbed]

some datv thoughts. mainly about the regrets of the dread wolf, and some small things. i'm still feeling quite sick so i think i'll play more today. my next main quest is the siege of weisshaupt, so i am about to finish act 1. i reckon i have roughly half of the game ahead of me, given the trophy distribution. kinda messed up! this got long and quite spoilery, so i'm sparing your dashboards

i finished the regrets of the dread wolf yesterday--i mean, you could tell that by the way i defeated the mythal dragon. i need to retract my statements when i previously said i thoroughly enjoyed this quest. the past sequences remain some of my favorite bits of storytelling in this game, but the memories of the regrets proper, i despise. quite honestly, they are to me a microcosm of this game's writing and its failure. you get a brief narration of what are quite significant events to the ancient lore of thedas. i did feel vindicated because i was correct on all counts, other than some specifics. i believed that the elves gaining corporeal forms and losing their immortality happened at once, when solas created the veil. i had assumed the elves-titans war had started because of the elves' extensive mining for lyrium/meddling with the orbs. i didn't make the connection between solas rendering the titans tranquil and the blight--i had hypothesized that the blight was a consequence of the elves removing their hearts, perhaps, to get their orbs and thus corrupting the tyrants and the lyrium flowing in their veins. perhaps based on the secret mural from trespasser with the titan. so far so good.

i despised the party round table talks after each memory. by the way, i did them all in one fell swoop given that i had managed to collect all statuettes before the meeting with the inquisitor although i was severely underleveled for it all. more on that later. it's the party talks that really left a sour taste in my mouth. they exist to spell out the quite frankly simple meanings from each regret. they exist to reinforce the idea that time and time again solas was Right. he was right about using titan flesh to gain corporeal forms. he was right that sundering the titans' dreams was a bad idea. he was right about meddling with the blight. he was Right. and he only acted against his beliefs due to his deep devotion for mythal. he did it for mythal, you see. solas is reduced to miss piggy singing 'didn't i do it for you' to mythal, and then killing her a second time post inquisition, yet another regret. except now he is retconned to do it mainly because he had to move the evanuris to another prison, not just to tear down the veil. you see, it is a secondary motivation, a bonus! he is no longer allowed to fully commit to a heinous act because he believes it is the right way to fix his wrongs, be it due to pride, regret, or narrowmindedness. which he was actually allowed to do during his rebellion and got rightfully chewed out by felassan. no, he is so devoted to mythal, he is so sad, you understand. the game repeats this after each memory with the subtlety of an acme anvil in a saturday morning cartoon. the game wants you to believe this. the game wants you to feel a type of way. so instead of relying on good writing and your intelligence to put two and two together and on your individual predisposition to decide how you feel about the events, it bludgeons you with the intended reading and emotional tone. it insults the player.

i've already said that although i find the environments gorgeous, the way you navigate and interact with them is nightmarish. the game puts dark souls fog walls at home where it doesn't want you to go. it arbitrarily seals off regions because hey, we don't want you to go here yet. you will come here later when we want you to do so which most of the time so far has been after you have gotten the exploration skills from companions that we'll use there. i wish i could explore every which way i can. if i can't solve x "puzzle" by then, that's ok. i'm a big girl, i can go ok, maybe something will happen that will change things here or i will get a new exploration avenue. i'll do it then. you know, as metroidvanias do. you can't truly explore during quests when you're introduced to a new area, so you need to go back to do it. and the puzzles are so elementary they may as well not exist. it all feels like a time sink meant to pad the game.

the combat is starting to lose its novelty, too. there is far too little enemy variety. there's different categories, such as spirits, darkspawn, humans, etc. but they aren't meaningful distinct and have many overlapping types (ranged mage with projectiles and aoe, small melee, small melee with shield, big hulking enemy) that require similar movements from the player. the dragon was a highlight though. the champions are all the same with a small twist for each one. most importantly, the best the combat has been for me was against higher level opponents. i fear what will happen once i start closing the gap between my level and the highest level opponents. i already defeated mythal's retribution which was near the level cap. i could increase enemy hp from standard, but i have noticed that higher level enemies are already quite health spongy, so.... bioware once again failed to make higher difficulties actually difficult without resorting to hp sponges.

[takataapui]

1, 5, 44!

thank you so much for asking! i'm sorry it took me so long to respond, I was like 'ah yes, I'll wait until I'm not on my phone' and then. forgor.

Do they have any crafting hobbies?

Marr (Changeling Monk) creates costumes for xyr storytelling troupe! They've long since sewn their own clothes, primarily as a form of rebellion when they were young, but found xyr skill celebrated when xe started travelling with the Spinning Yarns!

I feel like Māhina (Aasimar-Goliath Sorcerer) is gonna take up a craft. I'm not sure what it'll be yet, maybe wood carving. I'll have to do a bit of hunting for the right one for her. She'll use it to create with her hands, when she feels like all she does is break.

Vye (Fire Genasi Blood Hunter) used to really enjoy crafting things out of snow and ice, when they lived up North. Does that count? I think their work probably got quite well known, before It All Went Down.

Dam enjoys drawing. He's not particularly good, but he enjoys it.

5. Do they have any tattoos? If so what are they and do they have any special meaning?

Marr has a magical tattoo! Xe got it in the very first session, along with the rest of the party as they were marked by a mysterious force that we're all still figuring out! The tattoo lets them link minds with someone else. Marr also has two bands around her left forearm, representing Gait (her late wife) and Kin (her child).

Māhina doesn't have tattoos, alas. I think her clan has special tattoos, but she always resisted getting them and probably will never get those specific ones. She's quite noticable as a person (she has a glowing moon halo and is 7ft tall) so I don't think she'd get any noticable ones, but maybe she'd get one for just herself in future. Maybe something plant like to show that things can grow even in harsh terrain. A dandelion would be lovely and meaningful to her.

Vye has allllll the tats, I reckon. She's the kind of person to get a tattoo because she thinks it looks cool so she's covered, and uses the meaningless ones to hide the few meaningful ones. I imagine she's got one for her little sister hidden, and her mentor.

Dam doesn't have any tattoos, I don't have any reasoning, I think he just prefers to keep meaningful things in his heart, and doesn't see a point to ones that don't hold meaning.

44. Who, if anyone, would they trust with their deepest secrets?

Marr's list is very small. Gait, who is dead now, knew everything about them. I think Gait's grandmother, their mentor in all things monk to a lesser extent. Marr is a deeply private person. I think when Kin grows up, Marr will share some of the parts of them with Kin, but only certain parts. Most of the secrets and stories that Marr holds will be hidden deep inside them until someone can break that barrier of trust.

Māhina is very adrift. She's found herself stuck with a band of yahoos only by virtue of having died and becoming basically a slave, punishable by death if she disobeyed. I think the only person she'd consider telling her secrets to is her fellow party member Yurris, and even then, only if circumstances meant it was necessary. She's deeply, deeply, DEEPLY afraid of being vulnerable, so Yurris has really only breached the outer layer of her defenses, but he still has alllll the walls and the cannons and the moat to go through.

For a while, Vye considered telling Teak (her ex-girlfriend, it's... complicated) all her secrets, but Teak abandoned her before she could. So alas, she doesn't really have anyone any more. Her old ship captain, Mercy Judgeway, potentially. Her mentor back home, if Vye even knew where she was. I think Vye told her little sister everything she could that wouldn't put Avan in danger.

Dam told his partners everything. Shame that one of his partners didn't do the same, even though Rakelle was only trying to protect him and the other 2.

(I'm realising a few of my characters are deeply deeply lonely people. Damn. I'm sure that's totally fine and for no reason at all.)

Ask me things from this list about my D&D characters!

Thank you so much! This was so much fun, I love discovering things about my own dnd characters while thinking about them!

[veliseraptor]

January Reading Recap

Slower month this month, mostly because it took me forever to read one of these...

Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism by Michelle Goldberg. I mentioned this one at the end of last month's recap post - specifically that it was published in 2007 and that I expected reading it to be an experiment. I was right and spent a lot of the time reading @ameliarating quotes that were just sort of excruciating 15 years on. It was a great overview of the growth of the Christian right and expansion into politics particularly during the Bush years; I really wonder what Michelle Goldberg would say about the subject matter now. If you're interested in the interactions between Christian evangelists and U.S. politics, I do recommend this one despite the fact that it is, inevitably, dated.

Beneath the Stairs by Jennifer Fawcett. January sort of ended up being the month of mildly disappointing horror, which isn't exactly new for me but is still sad. This was probably the second-best of the three I read but ultimately still just came up as "meh, okay, I guess." I can't point to anything wrong with it, and it wasn't that the conclusion was unsatisfying or anything, I think I just found it underwhelming and unexceptional.

Dead Silence by S.A. Barnes. I want good space horror with all my heart; this wasn't it. Basically a rip-off of Alien but with a worse resolution. I'd say the first half of the book had me going because despite being an Alien rip-off it was still quite spooky, but ultimately I just came out of this one wishing it were at least 25% a different book.

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer. This is an old book that came up for me again for...some reason, I honestly forget what brought it up? I remember seeing it on my parents' shelves growing up. I read Missoula by the same author some years ago and remember being very affected by it. This book is the author's account of the 1996 disaster on Mount Everest that killed a number of hikers and generated some controversy (and about which I knew very little); he happened to be on the affected expedition as a journalist planning to write an article about the commercialization of Everest climbing. Reinforced everything I already believed about (a) nobody should climb Everest and (b) big mountains are terrifying.

Making History: The Storytellers Who Shaped the Past by Richard Cohen. This was the book that took me forever to read, and my search for a nonfiction book about historiography that gives me what I want continues. I wanted this book to analyze how history has been written over the years, and how different approaches to history/schools of historians have impacted historiography, but this ended up feeling more like a survey of historians past (and often their personal foibles). It was much lighter on the analysis or depth of investigation of its subjects than I would've liked it to be, probably as an inevitable consequence of its scope.

I feel like my issue with it can be summed up by the fact that there was an entire chapter about the feud between two British historians that was much more about their personal exchanges than going into their contrasting approaches and what those approaches meant/mean for the writing of history and the way we understand it.

Little Eve by Catriona Ward. I liked The Last House on Needless Street better, I think, though this one was very interesting in its own way; I'm not sure why it didn't click with me, but I suspect because I thought I was going into a different book than I ended up going into. I think the book I ended up with is a better one, but it meant that there was some internal dissonance over the course of my reading.

I think I actually do recommend this one, though, tentatively. Not in a "everyone should read this" sort of way, but in a "this is an interesting work and I'd be curious to hear more peoples' thoughts on it" sort of way.

I just started reading How the Word is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America by Clint Smith after bouncing off The It Girl by Ruth Ware about five pages in. I'm not giving up on it, but I clearly wasn't in the right frame of mind for it right this minute, so...it can wait.

Tune in next month to see if I've found a new horror novel I like yet.

[highpriestmckickass]

so recently, i've been watching a docuseries by jon bois, a sportswriter whose storytelling style i really enjoy. the most recent episode i saw was about the 1998 minnesota vikings.

any football fan, especially those from minnesota, can tell you the same thing:

the vikings will always blow it.

to be clear, it's not that they're a bad team. there's plenty of consistently bad teams: teams with decade-long playoff droughts, teams with a historical record permanently stuck under .500, and teams that are the new york jets.

the thing about the vikings is they're usually good, and sometimes even spectacular. it's just that... they're never quite good enough.

for example, at the beginning of the superbowl era, the vikings were a force to be reckoned with, starring in four of the first eleven superbowls. they were also the first team to lose four superbowls, and since then, they've never made it back to the championship game.

they've come close many times, but always manage to miss it. sometimes by getting blown out, sometimes by torturous, razor-thin margins. by many metrics, the vikings are far-and-away the best team to have never won the superbowl.

watching this episode in 2023, i know full well that the vikings did not make it to the superbowl in 1998. i'm a pretty casual fan, so i don't know the exact path they take, but i do know how it ends. everyone watching this episode knows how it ends.

but with a good enough storyteller, that part of your brain turns off just a little. maybe this time, somehow, it will turn out differently. maybe it doesn't have to happen this way.

it's 1998.

things are looking pretty good for the vikings this year.

they've just finished the season with a record of 15-1, something that only two teams have done before: the '84 49ers and the '85 bears, both of which decisively won the superbowl in their years.

they're packing an incredible offense, which has just set the record for number of points scored in the regular season, racking up at least 24 points each game. most of their wins have been by double-digits, and their only loss was by just 3. at the time, they are considered the best offense in nfl history, and even in the far-off year of 2023, still comfortably sit in the top ten of all time.

this success comes from several excellent players:

their quarterback, randall cunningham, has come out of retirement as a countertop salesman in nevada, to be inexplicably rejuvenated and enjoy the best season of his career.

their receivers include future hall of famers randy moss and cris carter, who will both become known as two of the best wide receivers of all time.

randy moss, in particular, is so effective at overpowering defenders and contesting catches that, decades into the future, "getting mossed" is still a part of the football lexicon.

if their opponents commit too hard to covering those two pass options, the vikings can punish them in the form of robert smith, an excellent running back who has rushed for 1187 yards and 6 touchdowns this year.

and it's not just their offense.

they've got one of the best ever defensive tackles, john randle, who still holds the record for sacks in his position, and their kicker, gary anderson, has just accomplished what no other kicker has done before, and only three have done since: finish the season with a literally perfect record, never missing a single field goal or extra point.

this is it. this is the year. the stars have aligned and all the pieces are in place. after several decades of striving, the vikings are going to make it to, and finally win, the superbowl.

against the atlanta falcons, cunningham fumbles on his own 18. randle is injured and has to sit out the rest of the game. anderson misses a crucial field goal, his first miss in nearly two years. safety robert griffith drops not one, but two would-be-game-clinching interceptions. with 30 seconds left, the coach forgets he has two timeouts left, and has the team to take a knee to run out the clock.

the falcons win 30-27 in overtime.

the vikings will always blow it.

I’m such a prequel girlie at the end of the day. Hahaha yes tell me a story that was always going to happen. Tell me a story that’s been dead since the beginning

[the-book-wyrm-reviews]

Aurora: A Novel

By David Koepp Book Wyrm's Review is under the cut

Page Count: 289 Estimated Word Count: 84,800 Genres: Thriller, Suspense, Science Fiction, Apocalyptic Fiction, Dystopian Fiction, Mystery, Horror Fiction, Supernatural Fiction Year of Publication: 2022

Overview

In Aurora, Illinois, Aubrey Wheeler is just trying to get by after her semi-criminal ex-husband split, leaving behind his unruly teenage son. 

Then the lights go out—not just in Aurora but across the globe. A solar storm has knocked out power almost everywhere. Suddenly, all problems are local, very local, and Aubrey must assume the mantle of fierce protector of her suburban neighborhood. 

Across the country lives Aubrey’s estranged brother, Thom. A fantastically wealthy, neurotically over-prepared Silicon Valley CEO, he plans to ride out the crisis in a gilded desert bunker he built for maximum comfort and security.

But the complicated history between the siblings is far from over, and what feels like the end of the world is just the beginning of several long-overdue reckonings—which not everyone will survive . . . 

Aurora is suspenseful storytelling—both large scale and small—at its finest. 

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

★★★★☆=4/5 stars

I had picked this book up and was exceedingly excited because the author and the blurb from Stephen King prevising the story. It was slow, though held enough pace and popping back and forth between characters in an attempt to keep the story moving. By the end of the book there were connections made and all the different characters were addressed in the end. With what happened in the story its quite easy to tell that plenty of research was put into the writing of this book, though I expected nothing less from the screenwriter of Jurassic Park. I enjoyed it in the end. Not a fan of how slow it was but the book was good enough to possibly read again at a later date. ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Would you like your own copy? Grab one at the link below! I am not Sponsored or Affiliated with Amazon

[lindsaystravelblogs1]

Days 19 and 20 - at sea.

Day 19, Tuesday, 3 January 2023

It was another sea day and the weather is still pretty wild.  The wind is ferocious and navigating around the ship is very difficult. I reckon the swell is at least 6 metres again and just getting from one side of the cabin to the other is a challenge – and a notable achievement if/when you make it without falling on the bed. The corridors are also fraught, but there is a rail to steady oneself.  The lift is not working – it never is when it is even a little rough and we can imagine how dangerous it might be if it operated whilst bouncing around in the lift well.

We went down to the Lecture Room for a two-hour presentation by Ian.  It was all about his adventures as a wildlife photographer and was interspersed with lots of short clips from his films.  We had seen some of them LAST year (get that? – LAST year) when he gave a very abbreviated version of it on our Greenland expedition, but they are worth watching again and again and his heart-on-sleeve commentary is inspiring to say the least.

During the afternoon, we did another eBird survey with Ian with surprisingly few birds and nothing all that exotic, especially after our dinner spectacle last night.  We also did a cloud survey with Russell but conditions really were not good to be outside on the decks with the howling wind and a bit of needle-sharp rain.

Day 20, Wednesday, 4 January 2023

Another sea day with more varied wind and waves.  At times, it was relatively calm but at others, it was wild and moving around the ship was really quite hazardous.

We went down to the Lecture Room and did a virtual tour of the ship during the morning with videos to show many aspects of the Bridge, the Engine Room and the Kitchen areas.  The Captain and Chief Engineer were there to answer questions and it was a surprisingly interesting hour or so with a couple of presentations and heaps of questions, some quite technical but most of which were answered quite admirably.

After lunch, there was another Cloud Survey – in the rain with a completely uniform skyful of gloomy grey clouds – and another eBird Survey during which we counted quite a few birds, including seven magnificent Wandering Albatrosses – quite beautiful, just cruising around the ship, gliding along close to us and sweeping away effortlessly with no visible twitch of their wings or tails. They must be some of the world’s most spectacular birds.

A little later, we all joined in a game in the Lecture Room.  They had strung up a number of ropes around the room and we all formed up in six teams to guess how big various things were.  Each team had a clip that we had to position along our designated rope to indicate how big the items were and the closest and runners-up received points.  Our team came last by about a mile (at least several metres anyway)!  Some of the items were really weird – the height of a Chinstrap Penguin, the length of Shackleton’s boat, the wingspan of an Atlantic Prion, the length of a Blue Whale’s penis (a male!), the circumference of a crew member’s head, the length of the largest krill, the ship’s Santa’s waist measurement, the circumference of the largest eye in the animal kingdom, the length of a Humpback’s pectoral fin, etc., etc., etc.  It was a really fun game and Heather and I got pretty close for many items but were overruled by the rest of the team who seemed to have no idea (our team name was No Idea!!!) – often more than double or less than half the correct answer.

At night, we were treated to another storytelling, this time a real-life adventure by Ian.  He told us how he and a couple of colleagues smuggled themselves over the border from Pakistan to Afghanistan to film an interview with the Northern Alliance warlord who had been instrumental in kicking the Russians out of Afghanistan.  It was a huge drama and pretty terrifying on several levels, but they eventually got their interview and escaped.  There were also quite a few coincidences that made the whole story almost unbelievable – except that it really did happen.  The guy they interviewed was assassinated by two suicide bombers only two days later.  By then, Ian was on his way to the US, but his plane was diverted to Canada because a couple of planes had crashed into the Twin Towers in New York.  It turned out that the assassination of the guy in Afghanistan was directly linked to the 9/11 plot – for some reason, he had to be eliminated before 9/11 could happen.  And Ian still had to get across the border into the US with his Afghanistan visa only 2 pages away from his US Work Permit.  Had anyone questioned him, it could have become very ugly for him. Fortunately, he survived, but the whole saga was as good as John le Carre could possibly imagine.  It was a Boys’ Own adventure, but life-and-death at many points along the way.

[ganymedesclock]

fic premise ask game: zote somehow makes his way to the lake of unn and they have a philosophical debate.

Ooooh, honestly I don't think I would've thought of that one on my own, but I'm invested in the idea now!

Like, it's hard to imagine Zote is unaware of the world around him- he clearly pays enough attention to navigate, and in the City of Tears he's unexpectedly insightful (he has a grumpy remark that there's no virtue in being over-devoted to your 'duty' which arguably led to a huge part of the tragedy throughout the game) so there's honestly a pretty good question how much Zote is aware of, how much he wants to be aware of, and what happens through the holes in his defenses when he hasn't made a justification as to how this is all his plan / ultimately about him.

Unn is a great "adversary" to pit him against, also; as far as we can tell she doesn't speak to anybody. She's a god that doesn't demand worship or impose at this point- she seems content to be fading even if this has some problems for her children who intend to go with her whenever she... passes, transcends (?) we're not sure. But she's also not an entity who needs to do any grandstanding or speechifying or giving orders to scan obviously as a god- the depths of greenpath are breathtaking. We meet Unn in game because of the inescapable feeling that something special is on the other side of that great acid lake and once we gain the power to cross it, the possibility's too tantalizing to escape.

It'd ultimately be almost a monologue, but not quite- Zote having to reckon with this grandiose entity and fumbling with his rationalizations, the narratives he feeds himself to keep going through a world that, in his mind, never loved him- in the face of something that may be the remains of one of Hallownest's ill-fated once-rulers. And Unn, at the same time, is reckoning with him; not because he poses anywhere near as great a dilemma to her, but because she's an entity in the process of losing her grip-deliberately, on reality- who is rejecting Radiance's course of action, who knows that even if it hurts to lose ground to more aggressive gods, to try and seize and dominate it for herself would lead to the anathema to life as she cherishes it.

Basically you'd be set up for a really, really good story about meaning-making, comprehension and storytelling. Bonus points if Zote has no idea what he's looking at because he stomped all this way, getting lost, past all the markers that tell of Unn and her children without reading them (if he could read them? I still feel like with how much he squints and that he tries to tell the story of vanquishing the vengefly to Ghost like they weren't there, that his eyesight may not be the best)

[littjara-mirrorlake]

First, the positives:

I love teamup cards as a concept. Super cute, allows for unlikely character interaction and funky color/mechanic combinations.

More Phyrexian tribal, with cards that name the tribe this time!

Clever application of transforming cards. In particular, I've been wanting flip-to-Phyrexian cards for a long while.

Incubate is a fun tribal mechanic that makes use of Proliferate in a new way.

Enjoyed the Orzhov Phyrexian commander deck, with its flexible commander that could go toward either incubate or poison, as well as the aristocratic theme that's always been present in the tribe.

The flip saga praetors are extremely cool in design, and I love the flavor of them living through immortal legends much like how oil carries memories.

I really enjoyed the character of Realmbreaker and wish that he got more acknowledgement in the cards.

Jace and Vraska's side storyline was good, and I appreciate that they showed how presence of mind is possible despite phyresis and brainwashing.

Giving Chandra and Nissa the canonization and resolution that they deserved, especially after the fiasco that was War of the Spark, was good but also the bare minimum.

Unfortunately, quite a few things detracted from my enjoyment of the set:

As many others have said, the story was packing far too much into too few cards. The storyline should've been at least two sets, preferably three. The block structure would've been perfect for this. Everything felt rushed and truncated.

The storyline suffered from the same issues as ONE (generalizing Phyrexians, wasting the planeswalkers' characters, general one-dimensional storytelling), but worse.

Particularly egregiously, the cards paint a much more anti-Phyrexian story than the text and worldbuilding suggest -- i.e. mentions of Urabrask and his rebels were entirely omitted in flavor text, Wrenn was portrayed as controlling Realmbreaker even though the story made it clear he was a fully willing rebel against Norn, etc. More characterization wasted, more nuance lost.

Once again, barely any Urabrask, only to immediately abandon him to an undignified and implied-to-be-lethal fate. Less than a paragraph dedicated to this.

Every praetor's (presumed) "death" was incredibly anticlimactic and downright insulting to the depth and complexity their characters have and ought to have gotten in the climax of the Phyrexian arc.

Genuinely--do the writers at WotC not realize how much of a fan favorite Urabrask is? He's not set dressing. He's not a random extra to be pulled apart for shock value and never spoken of again. A lot of things were disappointing about MOM, but the treatment of Urabrask is the biggest one for me.

Realmbreaker and Wrenn deserved more time for character development and not immediately being killed off.

The protagonists are never really forced to reckon with their generalization of Phyrexians despite being helped by a group of them this entire time.

Compleation turning out to be quite reversible was disappointing, as I wanted more permanent impacts and characters reckoning with their new states instead of just waving away the problem.

The high number of mechanics and their level of complexity puts me off a little even as an enfranchised player.

Between Incubate and Toxic, Phyrexian tribal is encouraged down two very different routes in consecutive sets. Not always a bad thing for a tribe to have multiple gimmicks of course, but Phyrexian tribal decks feel incoherent sometimes as a result.

Flip cards can be difficult to remember if their sides are very different.

Battles being horizontal really mess with their readability and make it difficult to hide their presence in your hand. The concept could've been pulled off equally well if not better in vertical format.

Feedback on March of the Machine

I’m about to write this year’s “State of Design” article, and I’m interested on your feedback of March of the Machine. What did you like? What did you not like? Tell me all your thoughts. 

[yogsandchaos]

Fuck it! Niche Minecraft Youtuber to watch if you like specific Dream Smp Characters! I have a lot of beloved niche Minecrafters I love and struggle to raise attention for so I have decided that I'm finally going to make this list, it’s an incomprehensible list hanging on by threads! but its a list!

Do you like Jschlatt? Do you like Evil, Capitalism, and Drama? Try William Strife! The Corporate Evil Overlord Capitalist with plenty of evil and dramatics a-plenty. One of the, if not the, original Minecraft Capitalist characters! With a hatred of magic, a love of money and tech, and the inability to ever be wrong Strife has managed to craft a hilarious yet oddly engaging parody of Capitalist America. Going strong for nearly a decade you may actually recognize him if you were in the Fallout scene back in the early 2010's for his guides! Strife has done plenty of Minecraft though and it's one of the things he's most known for. If you don't mind long run series mixed with some mod tutorial stuff I highly recommend checking out Solutions in Chaos for his infamously hilarious interactions with one Alex Parvis. Though if you don't have much time or tolerance for long run series his most recent series of Solutions and Order along with Crossroads may be something to enjoy. Or if you just like dick jokes you could just visit his streams, that's always an option as well.

Are you a fan of Wilbur Soot and Karl Jacobs? Do you crave death and rebirth and the horrors it brings but also a multiverse worth of interconnected yet not connected at all stories? Try Lyinginbedmon! Storyteller of a multiverse of themselves and our resident Master of Horror this Fox has dozens of stories and falls from glory to share. Do you wish to watch a Shinto Priest delve deeper into corrupting magics and slowly begin to wonder just how much the gods are hiding from them? Try Yokai Village! Do you want to watch a man trapped in early 2010's Nether struggle to survive and uncover a deeper story then they ever thought was there? Nether Expedition! Do you want to watch a Maid deal with the zombie apocalypse? Try Maid-ing Do! Do you want to watch a banished Werewolf Knight turned mercenary deal with their vampire racism? Knight of Fangs! Do you want to see the life and fall of the Witch in the Woods going from charming if odd neighbor to a betrayed horror monster seeking nothing but vengeance for what has done to them? Chaosville Season 2 and then Witch in the Woods! Or if you want something a bit shorter you can watch a Fae deal with a dragon witcher and strange magics effecting them, there is always the ongoing Clockwork & Memory.

Do you like Eret? Do you like a royal air and a sense of duty? Intense shitpost mixed with intense dramatic moments? Try Kirindave! Admittedly a bit of a weaker connection but that's just goes to show how enigmatic the Storm Sage really is. With a good sense of story telling and the charisma of something you really should not trust Kirin is quite a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately they haven't done much Minecraft on their own channel in awhile and their content is much more focused on mod exploration along with being an admin of various servers then actual plot. However you will feel when that plot hits, there's a reason their fans tend to portray their character as a god. If you want to learn why you don't mess with the forest, I recommend Minecraft The Hard Way, but if you want a bit more plot in your learning of mods, Sunless is quite a good even if it never got a proper ending.

Do you like Ponk and Foolish? Do you like gorgeous builds mixed with strange yet curiosity inducing lore? Do you like mad science/doctors? Try Lucian V. Ghost! With several series under their belt and the smoothest British voice I've ever heard Lucian specializes in short series with lots of Lore and high production values. With their series Ghost Labs and the sequel and still in-progress Ghost Industries, enjoy videos about strange mods with an immensely hilarious cast. If you want something a bit more SMPish though, Chronobreach and it's on going sequel World of Madness is a great introduction to the strange and morally dubious lore of Ghost Industries. They also have the ongoing series Unlikely Reunion that is nothing but lore, and cool robots.

[cockneydio]

This might sound juvenile, but I admire how you're able to not care about whether a character is morally "good" or "bad" or neither and just analyze them neutrally instead. I know you said that fandom content including your own is silly anyway, but I still admire your way of analysis. Because I'm one of those people who willfully ignores the flaws of characters that I like 😅

I really appreciate this note; it doesn't sound juvenile at all but rather quite the opposite.

I've only been involved in fandom since 2017, and it's changed almost completely in that five years. People are just looking for blorbos now. I honestly think fandom people watch shows for characters they identify with and throw out all the inconvenient context.....and I mean if you're declaring yourself a fan of content and disregard the content that's straight up stupid.

"I consume media critically" (which in their usage means "I am critical of the media I consume," not what it should mean: "I think critically about the media I consume") has become an excuse not to have to actually reckon with the uncomfortable parts of the original content and get a moral pass to adopt skrunglies from it. I'm not endorsing the murders and manipulation and bloodthirsty ambition; I just really like Giorno 🥺👉👈. But it doesn't work that way. Giorno, as an example, doesn't exist without those things. He's a character in a story; it's a closed universe put on paper by one man and finished; they are not human beings capable of growth and change and multitudes. (But you are.)

That there is no inherent moral quality to anything is the core of my beliefs as a nihilist. But that's especially important for everyone to recognize when interacting with media, regardless of your creative philosophy. A story isn't a talisman, and fandom isn't a stand-in for your system of ethics. There are actual people in the world actively taking away human rights from people like me. I am a storyteller, I love stories, and I love talking about stories. But on the grand scheme, it's not real and doesn't matter.

[honorhearted]

She unabashedly moved into his personal space, no longer quite so shy -- if Emma could ever be considered as such -- before reasserting her name. Benjamin blinked down at her, startled from the rush of heat that curled within his stomach.

"I'm sorry, it's...kind of a habit," he said, his gaze darting in between her eyes and the ground. "It almost doesn't feel natural to call you anything else."

Exploding fire?

Benjamin drew back again with a laugh, amusement twinkling within his bright eyes. "Without having seen this celebration, that sounds so wholly, unequivocally you that I almost can't stand it -- and by that, I of course mean I can."

As loud as she was brazen, Emma was a joyful force to be reckoned with, so the prospect of her kingdom being overwrought with the same vibrant, dazzling sort of energy made him smile.

She nudged him, and Benjamin's smile blossomed into a grin. "And what makes you think I wouldn't be an excellent role model to girls?" he challenged. "I'd gladly play tea party, or dolls, or whatever it is that meets their fancy. In my experience, little girls are often the best storytellers. I'd happily act out one of their impromptu tales."

Emma's shocked gasp of disgust, followed by her pivoting towards him almost made Benjamin draw back -- almost. Instead, he rose up to his full height, almost as if anticipating the need to defend himself.

"Of course I didn't know!" he exclaimed, horrified. "It's as I said: nothing happened. Nothing beyond a kiss. Brewster's probably still reeling from the lump I gave him for bungling things so horribly." With a self-conscious little laugh, he shrugged. "I suppose now you don't think nearly so highly of me...perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. There's no need to constantly give me a big head, after all."

"She stole the kiss, you didn't give your first to her. Count the one you picked next as your first."

Benjamin blinked at that, genuinely startled by her assessment. "I..." Clearing his throat, he amended, "Perhaps I'll take that under advisement. Though unfortunately for me, there isn't a next...she was my first and last. War, it seems, tends to put a damper on romantic aspirations."

Emma didn't allow him to dwell. No, she went straight for the jugular, her eyes mischievous as she pressed, "Are you ever curious about me?"

Good Lord...

Laughing, his brows drew high on his head. Though when Benjamin realized she was serious, his smile faded and he shifted his weight from side-to-side, his hands flexing as he looked to her face, the moon overhead, and then back to her eyes again. "Maybe..." A quiver of embarrassment speared through him, and huffing, he backpedaled, "I mean, I-I think it's only natural. If a man has an attractive friend of the fairer sex, it stands to reason that he's considered how she might...w-what it might be like to..." Sighing, he waited a few beats before trying again, "What I mean is, yes, I might have...once or twice. It's hardly anything to be concerned about."

Finally, an almost impish look settled into Benjamin's features. Eager to deflect the embarrassment onto Emma, he fired back, "Why? Are you actually offering?"

She gently placed a hand over his arm, leaning slightly closer to make her correction: "Emma." Because she was going to take advantage of his little concession the whole night, and if she let him call her Swan too many times he may forget about that.

"I think you'd like our town, the one next to my castle. Because it's... the people who chose to come or to stay there are... so much like us, they... feel the same way about most things, so it's a very tight-knit, happy place. If you enjoy festivals, that is, and I don't mean the fancy... pretty, elegant kind, it's... loud and... probably the opposite of elegant, and noisy, sometimes it comes off more like a bunch of drunken tavern men playing music while people dance in the street than a holiday celebration, but I promise you, it's so ridiculously alive that every once in a while you just... need a breath of that crazy air to remember who you are. My birthday is, of course, the worst offender, seeing as I celebrate it once in my castle with royalty and once in the streets and both times it involves fire exploring in the sky. Not a metaphor."

Emma could only hope with all her heart that his father would be there, waiting for him, once the war was over. He didn't seem to want to dwell on it, but she still bumped her arm against his, leaning against the wall, to let him feel she was close and there for him.

"I once beat a man because he was mistreating his goat. I don't need to tell you what would happen if I bumped into parents who are too ungrateful... You must visit the children at the home, honestly. After war is over. You could bring your father, make it a family trip! And Caleb, since he's family too. But you'd make such a great example to the little boys... Before you say it: I'm the girl's example," she anticipated him with a smile, "And I'd happily guide the boys, but I know they look up at men to see what seems right or wrong to do as an adult."

You're a bit of an animal now, too.

That pulled a laugh from her, even if she was surprised that he had expected her to be overprotective instead of reckless; but then, he had likely seen her at camp, check that the little ones were properly dressed for the winter before a snowball fight. "Yes," she agreed happily when called incorrigible, finding that a confirmation that he had given up on being scandalized. Truly, she had broken him, and it was the most amazing thing.

"I think you underestimate what I can handle."

That, however, had Emma turn to look at him with a different kind of interest, the oh really? on her smile as she faced him, "Is that so?" Because 'I'm not nearly as prudish' felt like fighting-words.

Her mouth fell open as she listened, forgetting to hide her shock, wondering if he was about to tell her, directly, that he had had sex with a woman, which would have been somewhat bold for anyone let alone him, and so she gasped when the word 'married' left his lips. "Gross! Unacceptable. Unacceptable! Did Caleb know that? It's just-oh, I hate adultery. I'm so glad you are not the type of man who says 'hey, she's the one who's married, not my problem' because I just can't stand any of it," she shook her head, "I actually had..." things happening "... got a little too close to a man who conveniently forgot to point out he was married until I found out. Seeing as he was a big man I didn't feel bad slapping him as hard as I possibly could. Betrayal is betrayal."

She frowned lightly, "You don't need to count her as your first kiss, she tricked you when she withhold information that could probably push you to reject her, so she stole the kiss, you didn't give your first to her. Count the one you picked next as your first," she suggested, though she'd have counted Anna, had she been in him. And she felt she couldn't apply the same rule to Arian, since she had been together with him for well over a year. But maybe at least Ben could have a nice memory of his first one.

"Are you ever curious about me?" she wondered all of the sudden, if only to run away from any thought of her past, and she let the mischief back into her expression and tone, "Since you seem to think you can handle me, perhaps you have wondered. After all, 'you are not nearly as prudish' as I think, right?"

[krabmeat]

☊⏃⋏ ⟟ ⏚⟒ ⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⋏⍜⋏? ⏃⋏⊬⍙⏃⊬⌇ ⋏⍜⍙ ⏁⊑⏃⏁'⌇ ⏃⌰⌰ ⍜⎍⏁ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⍙⏃⊬. ☌⍜⎅ ⍀⟒⏃⎅⟒⍀ ☌⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⍀⟒⎐⟟⎐⟒⎅ ⎍⋏⟒⌖⌿⟒☊⏁⟒⎅⌰⊬ ⏚⊬ ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔? ⟟⏁'⌇ ⌰⟟☍⟒ - ⏃ ⍀⟒⏃⌰⌰⊬ ⏚⏃⎅⏃⌇⌇ ⏃⋏⏁⏃☌⍜⋏⟟⌇⏁ ☌⍜⎅ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ☌⟒⏁⌇ ⌿⎍⌰⌰⟒⎅ ⍜⎍⏁ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎍⋏⎅⟒⍀⍙⍜⍀⌰⎅, ☊⏃⌰⌰⟟⋏☌ ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ "⌇⏃⎐⟟⍜⎍⍀" (⏚⎍⏁ ⟟⋏ ⏃ ⋔⍜⍀⟒ ⌇⏃⏁⟟⍀⟟☊⏃⌰ ⍙⏃⊬ ⟟⋏⌇⏁⟒⏃⎅ ⍜⎎ ☌⟒⋏⎍⟟⋏⟒⌰⊬ ⌇⟒⟒⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟒ ⋔⏃⌇☍⟒⎅ ⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⌇ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⊑⟒⍀⍜ ☊⏃⎍⌇⟒ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌿⏃⌇⏁ ⏁⊑⟒⊬'⎐⟒ ⋔⍜⌇⏁ ⌰⟟☍⟒⌰⊬ ☊⏃⌰⌰⟒⎅ ⟒⎐⟒⍀⊬⍜⋏⟒ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅ ⏁⊑⟒⋔ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⋔⟟☌⊑⏁⊬ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⍀ ⏁⍜ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌿⍜⟟⋏⏁ ⍙⊑⟒⍀⟒ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏁⟟⏁⌰⟒ ⎎⟒⟒⌰⌇ ⍜⎐⟒⍀⎍⌇⟒⎅ ⏃⋏⎅ ⎍⋏⎅⟒⌇⟟⍀⏃⏚⌰⟒). ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⍀⍜⏃⋔⟒⎅ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌰⏃⋏⎅⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌇⋔⌿, ⏚⍀⟟⋏☌⟟⋏☌ ⏁⟒⍀⍀⍜⍀ ⏃⋏⎅ ⊑⟒⌰⌰⎎⟟⍀⟒ ⏃☊⍀⍜⌇⌇ ⏁⊑⟒ ⍜⎐⟒⍀⍙⍜⍀⌰⎅, ⌰⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ☍⟒⌿⏁ ⟟⋏ ⍀⏃☌⟒ ⌇⏁⍀⍜⌰⌰ ⎎⍀⟒⟒. ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⟒⋏⎅ ⎍⌿ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏁⎍⋏⎅⍀⏃, ⏁⊑⟒ ⏚⎍⍀⋏⟟⋏☌ ⎎⌰⏃☍⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏃⌇⊑⟒⌇ ☌⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⌰⍜⌇⏁ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⏃⍀⌇⊑ ⌿⟟⌰⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⌇⋏⍜⍙. ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⊑⏃⌿⌿⟒⋏⟒⎅ ⏁⍜ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⌇⏁⎍⋔⏚⌰⟒⎅ ⎍⌿⍜⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⍜⏁⏁⏃☌⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏁⍙⍜ ⟟⋔⋔⍜⍀⏁⏃⌰ ☌⍜⎅⌇ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⋔⏃⊬ ⍜⍀ ⋔⏃⊬ ⋏⍜⏁ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⎍⌇⟒⎅ ⏁⍜ ☍⋏⍜⍙. ⍙⍜⋏⎅⟒⍀ ⍙⊑⏃⏁'⌰⌰ ⊑⏃⌿⌿⟒⋏? ⟟ ⍙⍜⎍⌰⎅ ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⏁⍜ ⌇⟒⟒ ⊬⍜⎍⍀ ⏁⏃☍⟒ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟟⌇.

- ⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⋏⍜⋏

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: philza, techno, Wilbur,(next few only mentioned)Mexican dream, schlatt, dream

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fire, death, arson, betrayal mention, being used, reference to drugs, slight cursing

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: translation vvvvv

Can i be enderman anon? anyways now that's all out of the way. God reader getting revived unexpectedly by dream? it's like - a really badass antagonist god that gets pulled out of the underworld, calling dream their "saviour" (but in a more satirical way instead of genuinely seeing the masked man as their hero cause in the past they've most likely called everyone that helped them their mighty helper to the point where the title feels overused and undesirable). They roamed the lands of the smp, bringing terror and hellfire across the overworld, letting their kept in rage stroll free. They end up in the tundra, the burning flakes of ashes getting lost in the harsh piles of snow. They happened to have stumbled upon the cottages of two immortal gods that they may or may not have used to know. Wonder what'll happen? i would like to see your take in this.

 - enderman anon

AHHH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I DONT KNOW IF YOULL EVEN READ THIS STILL BUT TY FOR THE REQUEST IT ISNT THE BEST QUALITY IM SORRY :[[[

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You almost don't recognize the sensation of grass against your calloused and rough hands. You were in the void playing solitaire with Schlatt and Mexican Dream, and the next thing you knew you were suddenly pulled harshly by the back of your collar, falling on your spine. The looming mask of Dream is what stood above you, but he looked different. Longer hair, smelly, wearing a stained lime green jumpsuit with ‘0001' sewn into it and covered in cuts, scars and bruises. But before you could even question why Dream was suddenly there, he stepped back into the void, the void slowly surrounding and consuming him the further he went backwards. His now bony hand is still tightly gripped onto the back of your shirt, so while struggling your body is also enveloped in darkness. All it took was one blink and there you were on a patch of grass, staring at the pale blue sky.

"Huh."

Was all that came out of your mouth. You were still shocked at the turn of events that just happened, but no longer grounded. A running river nearby stunned your senses. How long had you been dead? It felt like years, but when you look around at the familiar forest you died in, not much had changed except for a couple newly planted saplings here and there. The swirling ashes you remembered before you died had all settled and compressed into the soil.

The river showed a strange reflection of yourself- your features have clearly sunken into your skull and there's a streak of white hair coming from your scalp along with words in fancy gold letters on your arm reading,

"May thy woes and hurt of the past no longer eradicate the upwards of this lost souls future. Allow thine to be praised by Ender themselves and be granted another chance at mortality."

Scrubbing or picking at your arm did nothing, so onwards you went walking along the forest to what you remember being a bustling "community".

Each mound of dirt you saw only brought memories of your death, of the place and people who sought to treat you like you were disposable. And now that you’re alive, you hate that they technically ended up being right. Your death; alone in a forest. Running away from the unexpected attacker, ashamed and too prideful to die in the prying eyes of your enemies. It fills you with rage, all the lives taken by your hands and for what? You weren’t overreacting, you knew that for sure. And before you knew it, you stole some fresh flint and steel from a random chest and got to work. 

You had always wanted to touch the fires you set. The soothing feeling you got from watching wood burn to char and ashes satisfied you. And it made it all the more euphoric to know it was trees of your manipulator's land. Running across the land, with flames as far as you could see when you looked behind you. The heat swirled around your neck and went into your nose, but the feeling was muscle memory at that point. You were still riding your high when a voice reached out to you, luckily when you were finally calm.

"What- Y/n? Hold on, is that really you Y/n..?"

You spin on your heels to the familiar manipulative British voice of a person you haven't seen in a long time. 

"Wilbur?! Man, I haven't seen another person's face other than those two addicts in a while- you look different." 

His eyes much like yours are sunken deep into his skull, purple-pink bags under his eyes and dull skin. Wilburs shocked lips fade into an opened mouth smile when he walks up to you with his hands momentarily confused on what they should do. Eventually, his right hand settles on clasping your left shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.

“Y/n it is so good to see you! You look quite different yourself, wouldn’t you think-? Oh, look! We’re matching!”

The grey streak in your hair seems to make another appearance when Wilbur briefly smacks it with his middle and pointer finger. 

“Ay, it’s nice to see you too Wil, but back up for a second alright? I've got something to ask you by the way…”

Wilburs head peaks in interest, urging you to go on.

“I’m guessing that little streak in your hair wasn’t a fashion choice- and if it was it’s a bit strange- but how’d you get it? You died when you blew up L’manburg! I mean c'mon, people don’t just, well…REVIVE!”

He starts to walk. You aren’t quite sure where, but stumbling along with Wilbur while his arm is draped lazily atop your shoulders seems to suffice. 

“Ahh Y/n, you’d be surprised. The most WONDERFUL thing happened, actually! Years and years in my hell of a train station; do you know who was at the subway door when it finally opened, Y/n? Dream!”

“Wh- Dream?!”

Appalled, you try to stop in your tracks but fail when wilburs arm is still pushing forward. His storytelling voice dies down to curiosity and excitement.

“Wait, did he save you too? He did, didn’t he? Oh, this is wonderful!”

Wilbur emits eagerism and you suddenly realize what you could do with his desperacy to be socially accepted. Putting on the most exaggerated and animated voice, you speak. 

“Oh my god yeah! Gosh, that Dream guy is my hero! Thanks to him, I get to have another chance at living again, and isn’t that just…swell.”

In all honesty you didn’t really try hard to sound sincere but by the look of Wilbur, it seemed to work just fine. 

“Right?! I’ve been meaning to visit him in the prison if you’d like to tag along with me the day I go? I’m sure he’d love to see you, since he revived you and all.”

Oh, you were sure Dream wanted to see you. He wants a boon- a trade. Why else would he revive two of the most historically significant people on the server if not to make some sort of deal with them? Sure, Wilbur is as gullible and carefree as ever but you at least still had scraps of mental stability and level-headedness that made you all the more a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention Wilbur doesn’t know that Dream killed you, but telling him that now would blow your act. You decide to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Yeahh, sure! I’d love to go, just tell me when.”

And that’s the end of that conversation. The two of you walk to wherever Wilbur is going. It honestly surprised you how he couldn’t see through your apathy. From what you remembered, he was keen on being wise about people and their intentions but you guess years and years in hell do things to a person.

Somehow, you’re stuck in your mind for long enough that only now do you feel the sharp winter air making the hairs on your arms and legs stand straight up. 

“Wait, snow?”

The tundra was a drastic contrast to the void you were once in with schlatt and Mexican Dream. Instead of black as far as you could see, it was a blinding powdery white. 

‘Mexican Dream would’ve liked it here, probably would have tried to snort the snow like coke.’

You weren’t built for the snow, though. Hell- you didn’t even have a memory of anyone living in a tundra when you were alive! Why was Wilbur even in the tundra? You didn’t have the energy to ask, still feeling brittle and tired, back aching from laying on the dry dirt longer than expected earlier. 

“Yeah, just figured I’d show you around! Plus I already need to grab a couple things from an ender chest and this was the closest by. I’m a very busy man, after all.”

But why were there so many footprints in the snow? As far as you knew, Wilbur was the only one who lived out in the tundra- and he didn’t seem like the active type at all. There were strange shapes as well, large hooved footprints. However, all thinking comes to a halt at the same time Wilbur does.

“We’re here! You might see some familiar faces cause I live with people.”

Well, that answers the footsteps as well as the tall red-caped piglin hybrid giving leftover bones and raw meat to a polar bear.

“TECHNO! TECHNO, HEY!”

He tenses up for a second, you could tell he wanted to be left alone but that didn’t really bother Wilbur. But you recognize him. The name and the apparel- that guy is Technoblade. The same Technoblade who stood by your side while the two of you blew L’manburg up for the last time, and now the Technoblade who resides in a cottage shrouded in snow.

“Technoblade?!”

Hearing your voice being carried by the crisp winter air, he turns around immediately to see you and Wilbur a few feet away. Techno stood there dumbfounded, but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t particularly joyed or ecstatic to see you, but he was at the very least happy to see an old ally back. 

“Y/n? Oh my god, now we’ve got TWO of you? We don’t have room for another one, alright?”

For some it might be hard to see the meaning behind his words. Luckily you’ve talked to him enough to where you can tell he’s being playful.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just build directly on top of your house. Besides, who WOULDN'T want to be near me 24-7?”

“Me-“

“Oh f*ck off.”

You would’ve thought that that was Wilbur due to the similar accent, but there was something off. The slight gruffness and age, yet still succeeding in sounding mellow.

“Phil! How’s my favorite old bird doing?”

He gives you a face. Not a happy one like you expected, rather a face that says ‘really?’ Probably because of the old comment. The two of you briefly hug, Phil’s tattered wings stretching out slightly.

“I’m doing alright, are you okay? Here, would you like to come in? It’s pretty cold outside, you probably haven’t seen snow in a couple years.”

He wasn’t wrong after all. You were freezing your toes off and were itching for lemon tea. The kind Phil used to make when he, Technoblade and Dream discussed plans on destroying L’manburg. Ah, the good ol days…

“Of course! We’ve got a lot to talk about- you still have that old chess board?”

“Yes, but first you have some explaining to do about the fire over in that tree, Y/n. You just got back and you’re already burning down forests?!”

“Did someone say fire?”

Techno has an eager stride in his step once he also looks back to see the raging lights of orange and red in the nearby forest.

“Don’t worry Phil! It’s just- ahh, a controlled burn..?”

Your tone of voice is unsure when a black crow shoots down from the sky into the snow in front of you. It’s left wing is charred and has smoke dancing from the burn. Philza looks at you with a stern glare.

“Oh my f*cking god…that’s it! We’re all going inside now, you too Techno. I don’t want you and Y/n going on a rampage.”