#certainly not because it tastes good in some instances
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I’m so sorry if you’re a tea person, but I fucking can’t stand tea people. Everybody’s like oh try chrysanthemum tea! It helps with anxiety and helps you focus and it tastes sweet and buttery without anything in it! It doesn’t make you sleepy like chamomile and it tastes better too! No it fucking doesn’t. It tastes like I put dried flowers in hot water. It tastes like the couch at grandma’s house. It tastes like I went outside and ripped up a bunch of daisies with my bare hands and shoved them directly into my mouth. Sugar, honey, and lemon do nothing to make it taste less like a bottle of febreze. Ice makes it tolerable, but it’s still just cold, oversweet old lady perfume. Does it make me less anxious? Sure, I guess. Might be power of suggestion, might be ancient Chinese magic, I don’t fucking know. But don’t lie and say it tastes buttery and sweet and delicious without added sweeteners when it tastes exactly like every other fucking flower tea but worse cuz it’s just mild enough that I can still taste the tap water underneath it
#she speaks#next time I’ll put cranberry juice in it or whatever#everything tastes better with cranberry#like it is really really mild and that’s actually worse because like I said I can taste my tap water but with a floral aftertaste#as for whether or not it helps with focus… I mean I’m writing this post instead of working so yeah idk 🤷🏼♀️#and I just wanna go on record and say I generally like herbal tea#and ginger tea is my fucking jam man#I believe in folk medicine just as much as I do modern medicine because there’s some real science behind it#people didn’t just drink this shit for no reason#certainly not because it tastes good in some instances#so I’m not trashing the value of herbal tea in regard to health and wellness#I’m trashing the fucking purple prose descriptions hardcore tea people use to describe fucking hot flower water#it tastes like flowers#there’s no depth it’s just flowers#AND YES I KNOW HOW TO BREW A GOOD CUP OF TEA THANK YOU#and NO I’m not using big box tea bags#it’s loose leaf from China goddammit shits quality it just tastes like what it is#and I know I shouldn’t use tap water but I try to be as green as possible and I don’t hate how it tastes#but with the floral aftertaste it’s just not good#maybe I’ll try it with distilled water fucking whatever#and cranberry#of course
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I think I stumbled upon some kind of ichthyological forbidden knowledge. Opened up a book of names that were never meant to be read.
You've probably heard of "can-opener smoothdream", right? It's practically a meme by now.
But the thing is, it's a deep-sea fish. And deep-sea fish have historically not had English names because nobody drops them into the conversation over a hot cuppa. Sure, there's generic stuff like hatchetfish and barreleye, but when you want to refer to the actual fish you're probably saying such euphonious phrases as Diretmus argenteus, Sternoptyx diaphana, or maybe even Opisthoproctus soleatus.
So whence "can-opener smoothdream"? Certainly no non-ichthyologist has ever used that name. It's not even a direct translation of the scientific name Chaenophryne longiceps - that would be "long-headed gape-toad". Which to me is even cooler than "can-opener smoothdream".
But I digress. The "dream" bit comes from the anglerfish family Oneirodidae, from oneiros, "dream", because those marvelous fishes look like they came out of a dream (Pietsch, 2009).
Note that Pietsch (2009), more or less the anglerfish bible, uses English names at the genus level only. So Chaenophryne is the smoothhead dreamers genus but no mention is made of "can-opener smoothdreams". So no luck there.
Wikipedia, root cause of a lot of misinformation, has this to say.
"Longhead dreamer" is a far more accurate name. And in fact, despite Wikipedia prioritizing "can-opener smoothdream" (because it's funny?), the links listed use "longhead dreamer" and "smoothhead dreamer" as the name and "can-opener smoothdream" as an alternative.
So. Again. Where did "can-opener smoothdream" come from?
The answer, as it turns out, lies with McAllister (1990).
In the book A List of the Fishes of Canada, ichthyologist D. E. McAllister sought out to list every single fish known to Canadian waters, providing both an English and a French name.
And when there wasn't an English name, like for most deep-sea fishes, he arbitrarily gave them a name. And his names "differ in many instances from the widely accepted names" (Holm, 1998)
This had varying results. This is his name for one of the netdevil anglerfishes.
The humpback anglerfish or blackdevil anglerfish becomes a werewolf (????).
This one is just confusing.
The white-spotted lanternfish or Rafinesque's lanternfish instead becomes...
And most embarrassingly, the Mediterranean spiderfish gets saddled with something that "violates the tenet of good taste" (Holm, 1998).
This then is the original source of "can-opener smoothdream". It was invented by an ichthyologist in 1990, and has seen little to no use outside of how bizarre the name is.
Maybe McAllister's goofier names will catch on. Who knows? They certainly aren't very popular in the scientific community though.
References
Holm, E. (1998) Encyclopedia of Canadian Fishes (review). The Canadian Field-Naturalist, 112, p. 174-175.
McAllister, D. E. (1990) A List of the Fishes of Canada. National Museum of Natural Sciences, Ottawa.
Pietsch, T. W. (2009) Oceanic Anglerfishes: Extraordinary Diversity in the Deep Sea. University of California Press, Berkeley.
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_bluestreak x reader hc's
while some people prefer texting, Bluestreak favors calling. he likes to hear your voice, as these calls typically occur late at night, after he's been gone for most of the day. it's almost like being in-person, but it eases the ache that makes him wish he could just drive up to your place to be beside you. of course, instances persist when all the interaction he has with you for the day is a handful of text messages, but he loathes it. he is an avid 'frowny-face' and 'crying-face' emoji user because if he's texting you, it's how much he misses you or asking when is the earliest you can get off of work.
speaking of that, Bluestreak loves driving you to work. he knows all the gossip courtesy of you, and knows what co-workers or managers rattle your cage. always excited to see you, he asks how your day went the moment you slide into the passenger seat. exhausted or not, the smile that arises is genuine in his presence as you prattle off the days events. in turn, you ask how his was, and he'd do the same, more than content to do so. this simple chat is a debrief, and it's usually a surprise where he ends up taking you. it's 50/50, his place or yours, but no matter where it ends up being, either you're spending the night, or he is.
sentimental. he remembers important dates and adores everything you two do together. ranging from things you've gifted him, items that you've left in his room, or moments that are sealed with pictures or by other means. Bluestreak's love language is most certainly physical touch, though it could also bounce between words of affirmation. your touch is so gentle, so warm, a vast contrast against his typically chilly plating. he sometimes wonders if you can hear how loud his cooling fans are when you sprawl yourself out across his chassis like that, lulled to sleep by the thrumming of his spark.
is sometimes scarily good at reading body language. if you're sad, he knows without having to inquire a single question of you. plethoras of "what's wrong?" and "what happened?" stutter out of his mouth, and Bluestreak knows he isn't helping, but seeing you on the verge of tears twisted something inside him. especially if it's the first time he's ever seen you cry, he's already winding up to beat the scrap out of whoever is making you so troubled. with time, he comes to understand you prefer to talk things it out with him rather than try to fight it alone.
favorite place to kiss you is your cheek. it is because he can do it when you aren't looking, it's the easiest place to steal as many as he wants. and, he is powerless against the joy that arises watching you tilt your head to the side, trying to understand what just happened only to erupt in a fit of laughter. the smallest things make you happy, chasing after him to return the gesture. when Bluestreak pulls back, the pout you offer back up his way has him laughing, but never long enough before he's leaning back down, more than happy to oblige.
he'll have whatever you're having. while he has his own interests and hobbies, he enjoys getting to hear all about your tastes and favorite activities. it's often an exchange system, at least in the beginning of your relationship, one of you will divulge something only to ask the other what their favorite is. but if Bluestreak is being honest with himself, he's come to adopt your music and movie tastes, finding himself blasting songs from his radio when you aren't even in the cabin yet. it's a way to think of you even in moments when you can't be together, as he's always counting down the minutes until he can see you again.
#sul tf writes#transformers#maccadam#transformers idw#mtmte#transformers x human#transformers x reader#bluestreak#transformers bluestreak#bluestreak x reader#bluestreak headcanons#bluestreak imagine
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Beautiful Monsters: Yandere AfO
(Absolute GOLD STANDARD AfO art by -> blackberreh-art <- )

He had never stopped to consider his whore of a mother. Not for even an instance. Not to wonder who she had been. Not how she had come to be that way. And CERTAINLY not to wonder if she had, at some point, had siblings of her own. He had fed upon her. Consumed. Then survived where she had not.
Superior.
But now... now he wonders is perhaps he SHOULD have looked into it. Pondered, perhaps, WHERE his Quirk's genetics came from. Maternal or Paternal line? And did they have siblings? Other offspring?
It was certainly possible with the sperm donor. A man of no doubt loose morals, likely to have sired many. Though... how many SURVIVED the coming purges, is another thing entirely. Especially if they were Quirked.
He ponders this? Because he is staring down at his own distorted, yet magnificent, reflection. Through the surveillance screens, a SUPPOSEDLY unassuming public relations manager is shaking the hand of a low ranking hero. It is the seventh hand shake he's observed.
And that's just this sitting.
Just this meeting.
It is... MAGNIFICENT. Underhanded and brilliant. Predicated on the intense social pressures to maintain decorum, he knew if HE greeted in an Western manner, his victims would be forced to play along. What could they do? REFUSE to take his hand? Look RUDE and unreasonable? Even those few who THINK they know his Quirk, can't act.
It would appear bigoted. Quirkist. They have no PROOF.
All For One can only laugh. He is delighted. What a fumbling, audacious, greedy little scheme! How UTTERLY covetous. A "mute and mimic" quirk, was it? The "ability to 'briefly' copy quirks by 'temporarily muting' someone else's Quirk"? Oh, of COURSE! How completely non-threatening! It's TEMPORARY. Not GONE, just MUTED.
No need to VERIFY any of these facts. Why would a child LIE?
To get MORE? To avoid the hostile eyes of the power fearing SHEEP?
And to go into to PUBLIC RELATIONS! The gall! A brazen little monster in the making. He has to wonder... would HE have done the same? Had the world been as settled as it is now, when he was born? Were there no Quirk riots? No wars? Would HE have been content to "play the system"?
It's like looking through time at his younger self. So cocky. Self assured. A pretty, powerful, little thing that thinks it's the biggest fish in the pond. Hair like his brother, smooth to his curls, yet just as bleached bone white. Smug eyes, that dance with the secrets they keep. A vague smile, that gives away nothing.
Promises nothing.
He wants to RUIN him.
Grab him by that pretty little throat and SLAM him to the ground. Crater it. Hard enough to shatter the bones of lesser men. Wants to feel that pretty little thing CHOKE as he looks up at him with such magnificent disdain. As though HE is the insect that does not know it's place. That DARES touch it's better. Oh~
The poor little thing would have NO IDEA.
The sort of MONSTERS that have been lurking in the dark, ready to eat him ALIVE.
He has good taste, for the resources he has on hand. The budget he has to work with. The boy cleans up well, in his pretty little suits and quaint colognes. Decent cuts. Flattering. But All for One could do BETTER.
He keeps his hair long. A vanity and a means to soften their imposing jawline. Kept so neat and tidy. All of him, so very neat. So immaculately dressed. Clean.
He would RUIN IT.
As he holds him down by the throat. Under that furious gaze. He'd make him WATCH as he ruins the appearance he's oh so proud off. Shows him EXACTLY how different they are in strength. No knives, he thinks. Not even Quirks. At least, not directly, no...
Just his HANDS.
Ripping cloth. Shredding it beneath his fingers. Letting him kick and struggle in the DIRT. Insulted and wrathful. As All for One's hands wander. He wonders~ how FAR would the little monster let him get before he snapped?
He's been chained down for so long. So used to HIDING, can he even bring himself to do it? How far would All for One need to PUSH to get him to abandon his little plans, and FIGHT BACK?
Watching him struggle, FIGHT, throw EVERYTHING he has at him. Seeing the realization spark in his eyes that it's not ENOUGH. That it's hopeless. That beautiful despair. That he's pinned down like a butterfly for All for One to devour. A ruined beauty in his trashed remains of a suit.
The little monster would HATE it. Would RAGE. His lovely little mask of civility would come crumbling apart as he WRITHED beneath him. Trying to rip his throat out with his TEETH. Trying to claw out his EYES with that carefully maintained manicure. And All for One would DELIGHT.
Reveal in it.
Drink it all in, like the fine wine it was.
Because, OH~ What a magnificent MONSTER you've held back, little one~ Hateful and ugly. Just like ME~
All for One could out match him. Strength, experience, Quirks. His empire is sprawling while the boy has none. He COULD be a threat, in time. COULD grow to be an equal. But All for One could never allow THAT! The avaricious little thing would kill him!
No.
He's going to eat the boy ALIVE.
And his little monster will HATE it. DISPISE him. Because he his going to love it. And that? That CAN NOT be forgiven. Not by monsters like them. The defeat, the humiliation, the helplessness. It's unforgivable. But the PLEASURE? For THAT All for One will have to BURN. It can end no other way.
Not after he's held him down. Made him WEAK and filthy. Then found every spot that makes him twitch. Dragged open his mouth so he can not escape the NOISES he makes, as AfO swallows him whole. As quirks are combined to squirm, painlessly, easily, at JUST the right angle too...
He'd make him HOWL. Choke on his begging. Thrash and beg and curse.
Like he was DYING. Like he's begging for death.
You can torture a man with more then just pain, after all.
And he'd wants his little his monster OBSESSED. Wants the memory of his cock to HAUNT him. The feeling of being split open. Filled so gloriously, so PERFECTLY. Over and over again. Endlessly. With stamina beyond human limitations. With strength most humans could never dream off.
Combining sensory quirks and attraction quirks, body modification and lust quirks, into something NO ONE else could possibly hope to give him. Everything so sensitive, so pleasurable, it dances the line of pain. He could fry the pleasure center in your brain again and again, then FIX them, little monster. Could make you see GOD.
No one else would ever be able to give him that. The touch of his own hands would forever be ruined for him. Not enough. Never enough. Not after HIM.
And that's why his little monster would have to try and kill him. Would try and hunt him. Obsess. Chase. Rage. But oh, he'd fall in line, in the end. Because he'd LOSE. His cravings crippling him. His NEED to submit.
All for One watchs the security monitors. Lazily palming himself. He wonders... should he keep his little pet by his side? Or tucked away, chained safely to his bed? He supposes it would depend on his mood.
Leaning back, he let's a solid shadow quirk slide over his skin, servicing him. His eyes never stray from the screen. It's twenty-eight handshakes now. Quite the collection he must have. His little monster glances up at the camera and for a moment... it is as though their eyes have met.
Such MAGNIFICENT crimson.
He spills into the greedy, sucking, vice of the shadow he created. Then vanishes the mess. Decadent and relaxed, he orders his spies to gather more information. It's been entirely too long since he's last left the base. Not since killing Shimura. And with her idiot successor off doing... SOMETHING, in America? He has time.
Or at least, time ENOUGH, for a bit of monster hunting~
#threepandas#yandere#yandere bnha#yandere mha#afo#bnha afo#bnha shigaraki#shigiraki#yandere shigaraki#yandere afo#afo x reader#mha shigaraki#shigaraki x reader#reader is male#or at least AMAB#afo is ONCE AGAIN thirsting for people that remind him of himself#narcissist afo#because are ANY of you really suprised#distant cousin/descendant of AfO's parent's#in what way?#its a SECRET#what're you a cop?#beautiful monsters au
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anyone else kind of put off by how they write makoto scaring her friends? idk maybe its just me
like, okay, in tactica especially there are multiple "comedic bits" where they mention how strong makoto is and that she does martial arts. like, they're praising and admiring her skill, or just commenting on it in general. but at one point someone (morgana, i think. and later futaba) specifically say she is "scary" and "terrifying" and it shows them being scared of her. when she reacts to most of their comments like this:
and you know how theres that bit where joker can imagine what it would be like to marry a phantom thief of their choosing? and the makoto in his head gets angry at him for a conclusion she jumped to about joker having someone else? and when joker comes out of the daydream he backs away from makoto and she says he looks pale.
theres a lot of these bits in tactica, but strikers and even the base game isnt saved from this altogether. theres that god damn 'peeping at girls in the hot spring trope' that comes up in every modern mainline persona game. its meant to be funny? apparently? but after the 5th time we see it we're not like. haha dumb teen boys get beat up by angry teen girl over a misunderstanding. we're like. oh. this again.
(i feel like this same 'girl beats up dumb boy' trope spawns from the same place the 'girls beat up ryuji after he almost dies for them' scene comes from. and maybe thats part of why it makes me do the frowny emote.)
ANYWAY
p5r dodged the obligatory hot spring scene, but Strikers did it instead. and makoto beats up the guys even though it was a honest fuck up and they tell the girls they weren't peeping and we the audience know they weren't but makoto beats them up anyways?? and exclaims "fist of justice!!!" ("HAHA MAKOTO SCARY LOL" ???????)
meanwhile she gets annoyed in any other instance when her friends try and reference her fists of justice?? (ryuji tells toshiro to watch what he says if he doesnt want to get pummeled, when he tried to compare makotos punching power to fist of the north star and she gets pissed) sigh. what is this writing. why would she having issue with it? this is a girl who gets so excited watching Yakuza movies that she sits on the edge of her seat with her fists clenched. shes started reading action manga more and actually enjoys it.
even if makoto wants to come off as being serious and put together, and even if she naturally is (moreso than her other friends) she is not immune to the sillies of teenagerhood. she would compare herself to it gladly and wouldnt hit or scold her friends if they did either. because its fuckin awesome. because shes awesome.
like. i'm not the biggest fan of makoto. she's got the lowest blorbo status in my brain out of the whole squad but i don't hate her. there is a good character there, its just. the writers. make. decisions.
makoto spent so long being alone and feeling isolated and like. she says during her confidant that a lot of people just thought she was some kind of cold. robot. so i certainly don't think she would want her friends to think she was in any way unapproachable. or unable to handle the bits.
and i dont think she would want her bit to be 'lol violence funny' (at the very least not to this extent.) i don't think she would want to give her friends any reason to think that she would hurt them. making a "strong woman" character does not mean this character. has to crack her knuckles at her friends and imply shes going to hit them if they say something a little too silly. and play it off as a bit??
like. idk. maybe im thinking about this too much or not explaining this with the right words. but its just one of the many things about the writing choices that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. to me this is completely different from them making her serious about studying and having her get on her friends asses if they dont do well. and her friends not wanting to get a makoto lecture. like oh we better study because if we fail we'll have to face Militant Academic Makoto Niijima because she will organize a tutoring/study session like it's the fuckin navy.
when ann and ryuji first say 'oh man shes scary i dont want to get on her bad side' right after makotos awakening, makoto seems more embarrassed than anything else. and i feel like this is. more true to her character. she lets her anger out in the metaverse and she can do amazing things with it as her drive but shes embarrassed about expressing it. but she comes to embrace this about herself. that shes powerful. and shes proud of it. but that doesnt meant she leans into being someone her friends think is. genuinely scary.
makoto is a terrifying fighter and brilliant tactician in the metaverse but in real life she is not all serious business! she is capable of fun!! makoto is a nice girl!! makoto is a girl who had to grow up too fast and mask her way into the good graces of the adults in her life! so she's awkward around kids her age!! and in situations that arent serious business (that she cant script as well) she isnt always sure how to best interact with her peers! but shes growing! shes going out of her way to experience new things! she wants to better embrace her anger because it means freedom for her!! after a childhood full of holding her tongue!! but she doesnt have a temper that makes her friends the victim of her misplaced aggression! and shes not a buzzkill!
#persona 5#persona 5 royal#makoto niijima#p5#p5r#p5 apotelesma#apotelesmeta#ch. makoto#the Biggest issue i have with makotos writing is that she still wants to be a cop at the end#me when atlus makes their “strong girl whos into martial arts and cares about protecting people” a cop: 😡#ESPECIALLY IN THIS INSTANCE WHERE ONE OF HER FRIENDS IS A VICTIM OF POLICE BRUTALITY#ma'am....
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hello!I hope this finds you well ^^ the names magpie,I was wondering if you could tell me some basic tips for your art style or a time's lapse of one of your drawing for me to analize? I love the art style so much and I want to be like you! if you cant/won't I completely understand!sorry if its to much to ask,have a good day/night! ><
hello magpie! thank you so much for sending in a question and I’m delighted you like my art! 🩵✨
to start off with, the only person who can truly do the atompalace art style is me- it’s my own uniquely personal way of drawing, so I cannot tell you how to wholly replicate it nor would I encourage it. BUT! every single artist’s art style, including my own, is a patchwork of effort and practice, techniques you enjoy using, and influences from the things you love- and that’s beautiful!!! 🌈💕 so instead I’ve written four ways to help develop your very own art style:
1. Gather Inspiration 🌟
what inspires you? this can be any type of art, photography, character design and so on, or anything made by a favourite artist, but also delving into nature, places, feelings... now try and identify what specifically you love about these things!
I like to save any artwork or photo that particularly resonates with my tastes into a folder, then I analyse the specific traits about each piece that I admire, especially if I aspire to improving that trait in my own work. artists who have influenced my style recently include Mia Ikumi, the Kamikita Twins, Lisa Frank, Naoko Takeuchi, and Elena Kucharik; I also find lots of inspiration in Sanrio character artworks and Pretty Cure cards and merchandise ✨
it’s a wonderful feeling to reach a stage where you’re naturally drawing the type of art you love to look at, and by delving into why you enjoy the art you enjoy, you can use that knowledge to your advantage to achieve that!
2. Practice, Practice, Practice 🔥
I always tell aspiring artists that the most important way to develop your skills is to draw as much as possible. yes, fundamentals and going out of your comfort zone are important, and many artists tell you to focus on these when you start out… but personally I think drawing the things you enjoy and often is an equally valid method, because it gets you into the habit, and you will still learn lots!
when I was in school, I drew OCs and Pokémon on spare paper using ink. I didn’t really focus on anatomy or composition at that point, but it certainly helped develop my line control/confidence and drawing speed- and my art style, too!
a good specific way to practice is to pick artworks that you love and make studies of them! this way you can learn from the various techniques of the original (such as ones you identified in the previous section!) by trying to redraw them. IMPORTANT: if you make studies/reproductions of illustrations, particularly by contemporary independent artists, please keep them private and don’t post them, because that can give others the impression that you’re imitating them 💧
another fun way to do studies that you can post publicly is by choosing a TV show, film, comic, or video game with a style you like and try to draw your character (or even a character from a different media) in that style! for example, I enjoy drawing my Pokémon trainersona in the official Pokémon style occasionally- I improved with every attempt because of the time I spent practicing and looking closely at art made by professional illustrators, which helped me really understand the trademarks of that style. learning by doing!
3. Making It Yours 🎀
a recognisable or “iconic” art style is made up of multiple trademarks; no single trademark is ever exclusive to one artist, but it’s a unique combination of them that makes a style stand out.
for instance, I love drawing heart shaped shines in my characters’ eyes, which is something lots of artists do. but in tandem with multiple other trademarks common to my works (pastel colours, lineart quirks, typical subject matter and more), that’s what makes them say- “I’m an atompalace piece!”
to make sweet, glittery art, drawing your very own effects brushes or textures is a fantastic way to express your own style effectively. I programmed all of my sparkle brushes! some of my base brush shapes are referenced and some are entirely from my own imagination, but I drew them all myself. you can find free tutorials on making your own brushes for most art programmes online if you need help, or just edit default brushes that came with your art program!
4. No Restrictions 🪽
don’t be afraid to experiment! especially as a digital artist, a good few of the exclusive techniques I use were ones I discovered unintentionally or by trial-and-error, and when you work with digital layers it’s a lot easier to play around with colour palettes. tweak colours and mess around effects, and you might come up with a happy accident that you can use in the future as a building block to your style!
this might seem contradictory to the previous section, but you don’t have to tie yourself to any one art style. we all change and grow all the time, and especially if you’ve only been drawing for a relatively short time, it’s good to keep an open mind and allow your art to evolve. (for me, only the last 2-3 years has been the longest my own art style has been consistent!)
even if there’s a main style you always return to, it’s absolutely fine to deviate from it. I do, and I have fun with it, too! switching things up every so often is fun and can even help your main art style improve! conversely, if you try too hard to stick to a method that you don’t truly enjoy or have become bored of, it can be creatively stifling, so allowing yourself to branch out is key.
if you’re a hobby artist, your own enjoyment and personal satisfaction should be your priority- not the approval and attention of others. one of the best ways to let your art style shine is by letting yourself draw as self indulgently as you like without holding back!
before I sign off, I do have two timelapses of two detailed illustrations to share with you! The Sylveon Sanctuary and The Mermaid and the Fairy 🫧 notice how I use the golden spiral or a grid to help make balanced compositions; I don’t always make a colour draft, but I did for these; and I sometimes do “mini sketches” to help me visualise from my base sketch.
thank you again for your message, I enjoyed answering this and I hope you find it helpful and motivating to draw lots of lovely art!!! 🎨
- Princess Sol ⚜️🎀🩵✨
#atompalace correspondence#atompalace writings#yapped a lot but I’m passionate about art and style 🥹#super hope this is helpful!!!
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If you've been following me for a while you're certainly aware that I openly despise love triangles in fiction because they're almost always executed in a way that's completely unappealing to my personal taste and, consequently, perceived by the audience in a way that's invariably flat and flavorless to me.
For instance in Supernatural, whether you like/ship them or not, there are two established love triangles: Dean/Benny/Cas and Dean/Crowley/Cas. In both cases the apex of the triangle is considered to be, as far as I've seen, Dean and this is one of the reasons why these two triangles are boring to me. The way I personally see it (and that makes love triangles more bearable to me) is to consider the perceived apex's favourite as the real, hidden apex. In these examples, then, the real apex is actually Cas.
The way I see it, love triangles can be interesting if ALL power dynamics are explored. In the case of Dean and Benny it's so clear that it's Dean who holds all the power in the relationship because Benny is written like Dean's ideal&perfect&amazing partner that does everything Dean wants and asks for. As far as Dean and Crowley are concerned, things are different because Crowley is, initially, a total predator and a scheming abuser towards Dean until they made him discover "the power of love" that supposedly erase all the harm that was done before. Eventually, then, Dean holds way more power than Crowley in their relationship and, from beloved Juliet the hellhound's stand-in, Dean becomes Crowley's master. Both Benny and Crowley, however, "lose" the battle without even starting it because they're positioned as perfect brother/partner and fun brother/father's figures, respectively, while Dean and Cas' relationship is interesting because Dean seems to be way more interested in a third type of relationship, aka that with his best friend.
The thing is that in both these scenarios the one who really holds all the power is Cas. He literally doesn't need to do or say anything and Dean would "choose" him anyway. And viceversa with Dean (in different cases than these ones, though, in Dean's case the "third wheel" in his relationship with Cas is Heaven which, admittedly, is much worse than what Cas has to face). The power dynamics between Dean and Cas is just much more interesting than the other two because it's like a seesaw, it's always about them even when other people are involved. They're each other's best friend and it's very, very difficult to compete with that because (and I think Supernatural did very well in this respect) "best friendship" is not "just" about support and love. There's also antagonism and eroticism and everything that a non-threatening, charming, desired relationship with the Other entails. It is indeed magnetic and it's at its best when it's described as a polarity unless, I think, the third or fourth party chiming in is "powerful" enough to destabilize the connection.
And this is precisely why I don't care for these love triangles. In Dean/Benny/Cas case it's just so obvious that the moment Cas would eventually come knocking on Dean's metaphorical door no ideal&perfect&amazing partner could compete. I could've been interested if they gave more space to Cas and Benny's relationship: give me jealousy or competition or curiosity even, whatever, but give me some spice. To me it wasn't spicy enough so the love triangle feels bland to me (the actors played very well, I'm not talking about perfomances here, I'm talking about what we actually get to see on the screen).
The Dean/Crowley/Cas is potentially veeeery good because Crowley and Cas have history and if they had showed a little bit of that the triangle could've been interesting to me. In other words, I guess what I'm saying is that I don't like these love triangles because there isn't enough Cas&third party-related dynamics in them and, the way I personally see it, he was the real, hidden apex in both cases. Things would've been just much more savoury to me if that was actually showed (I believe it was implicitly showed because Cas' appearance/disappearance in Dean's life is what starts/ends these triangles but, like, the whole point is that I needed more screentime with Cas and Benny and Cas and Crowley for the trope to be interesting. To me).
#this was brought to you by a conversation I've had with a friend about romantic tropes#and how they work/fail for us#to sum up: love triangles are interesting to me only if at least two conditions are met:#1. the relationship between the two other interior angles is explored#2. said relationship must not revolve solely around the perceived apex. even if weaker. there must be an attraction between the two as well#(By attraction I mean a sort of gravitational pull. it doesn't have to be romantic and/or sexual.#it can be shallow and petty or deep and meanigful. but it must be about these two characters only)#love triangle trope#spn#dean winchester#castiel#benny lafitte#crowley spn#spn s8
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[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Epilogue

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast
Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: E Status: Complete
All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.
*** WELL. It took an embarrassing amount of words and an embarrassing amount of time but this is it. This is the end. Who likes happy endings? I like happy endings. For the record, I had this in my ears while writing most of this chapter. The talent of some people, I swear. Speaking of talent, the art at the end of the chapter is by @raphaels-little-beast! ***
“I have nothing to wear.”
“I fail to recall any instance where that was ever a problem.”
“It's a problem now because you said I should wear a proper outfit at a wedding.”
“You have quite literally my entire wardrobe at your disposal to pick from. Certainly you’ll be able to find something to your taste within the next three days.”
“I did, and you said no. Like I don't look fetching in a leather coll--”
“The entire wardrobe with the exception of that drawer,” Raphael cut Haarlep off before they could speak entirely too much. “I'm certain you can manage.”
Haarlep huffed. “It's more than one drawer,” they muttered, but had enough sense not to press further. They only sighed, rather dramatically. “So many limits. This was not in my contract,” they lamented, but still leaned over to kiss Raphael’s temple, a hand braced against the throne’s armrest. When they spoke again, it was in a whisper against his hair. “You’ll make it up to me tonight, won’t you, my pet?”
Barely looking up from the treatise he was reading - it was time, he suspected, to revise some of the agreements in place with the Fourth; Lady Fierna would probably be more receptive to it than Lord Belial - Raphael let out a hum.
“That can be arranged,” he replied, in the thoughtful tone of a ruler promising to give proper consideration to an official petition. He felt Haarlep smile before they pulled back.
“Oh, I’ll hold you to that,” they said, sultry as they could be, and off they went to rifle through Raphael’s wardrobe. He watched them leave the throne room, a faint smile still on his lips, until a voice rang out.
“More wine, my lord?”
Raphael had almost forgotten the servant’s presence. He turned and held out his cup with a nod. “That would be appreciated.”
There was much to be garnered from observing how steady - or unsteady - a servant's hand was while pouring wine. In the first days and weeks of his reign, when few knew what to expect - eternal debtors least of all - their hands had shaken badly enough it was a wonder there had been no spillages.
It was nothing new to Raphael; his own eternal debtors back in the House of Hope had been for the most part terrified of him, at least those with some sanity left. It had pleased him, then. He'd savored their fear like a fine vintage; it was only right that they feared their master. To them, he was a lord. Their lord, to be feared and obeyed, admired as he'd always known he deserved. Until he could make other fiends bow to him, until he could strike terror and awe into every single one of them, those wretched souls would do.
Yet now that he was indeed one of the lords of the Nine Hells, he seemed to have lost the taste for it. Not for having others bow to him or fear him - that he'd never quite tire of, he suspected - but he found that striking terror into beings who could be no threat to him had lost its appeal. Terror served him well to prove a point and nip a potential revolt in the bud; a fearsome reputation was useful to keep other archdevils at bay. But with eternal debtors, he would rather take in the awe. And that was so very easy to obtain.
The hand pouring his wine did not tremble. Raphael nodded before pulling back the cup. He did not drink right away; he glanced at the wine, settling back against the backrest of the throne. “Do remind me, what wine is this?”
“Exeltis Ice Wine, my lord. It is-- was -- from the late Justiciar’s private stash.”
“Hmm. He had taste, that much I do owe him to concede.” Raphael gave the wine more time to air out before he drank, gaze shifting back to the treatise. “Do give word to the kitchens I’ll be dining in my quarters. The master of wardrobe and a guest will be there as well - my consort as well, perhaps. If their search for an outfit doesn’t take them all evening.”
“Of course, my lord.” The debtor - a half-orc with half his scalp burned off - bowed his head. “Anything else they should know?”
“Don’t skimp on the seasonings on the wereboar roast. Yesterday’s axebeak fillets could have used more flavor,” Raphael replied, but he was already focusing on his reading once again. Now that he was whole, food was once more an indulgence rather than a necessity. He did not miss hunger, per se, but he had to admit eating was not quite as satisfying as it was when it had a need to fulfill. “As for the wine, I want two bottles of Utterdark.”
“I’ll let them know, my lo--”
The door leading to the throne room was pushed open before he could finish, the bang followed by heavy steps. The servant recoiled, turning to look towards the entrance. Still drinking from his cup, Raphael lifted an eyebrow.
Whenever any fiend was summoned by the Lord of the Eighth, there generally was a protocol to follow. Particularly important guests would be escorted and announced by the chamberlain or the steward; that was not the case now but even still, some decorum was expected. Bowing before the throne - how deeply depended on the rank - and greeting him as ‘my lord’ was considered the bare minimum from anyone except other archduke.
None of that seemed to have crossed Yurgir’s mind in any way, shape or form.
“All right, I’ll bite. What sort of game are you playing?”
Raphael sighed, and gestured for the servant to leave. He did, quite hurriedly, giving Yurgir as wide a berth as he could while Raphael looked back at the orthon.
“And a good afternoon to you as well, commander. As I'm in a fine mood and no member of my court was here to witness your atrocious lapse in etiquette, I'll do you the favor to pretend you have addressed me with the respect that befits my station. Only this once. But you may further test my patience at your peril, if you're so inclined.”
Yurgir’s glare made it rather clear he had a few choice words for him, but he was clever enough not to test his patience after all. When they had last met, Raphael had defeated him, if barely, in his weakened human form. Now he was whole again, more powerful than he’d ever been, and they stood in his kingdom. He remained silent, and Raphael smiled.
“Good. Now, what seems to be the matter? You were paid in full for your services in the Fugue Plane, were you not? And you have much enjoyed the hospitality this citadel has to offer in the past days.”
A grunt. “Yes. And I thought that was the end of it, but then you sent this note-- ”
“A perfectly reasonable offer, I think. Is it not? I could use someone with your expertise to guard my private quarters.”
“You could have a gelugon to do it, or a pit fiend--”
“I could, yes.” Raphael finished the wine, vanished both the empty cup and the treatise in a burst of flames, and stood from the throne. “But I’d rather have someone with no connection to other court members, or to my late sire, taking on that duty.”
Yurgir snorted. “Last time you had me under contract, I turned on you in your own house.”
Raphael chuckled, walking down the steps from the throne. “Not very wise of you to remind me of that specific mishap.”
“Didn’t think for a second you needed reminding. So, why would you think I wouldn’t turn on you again if given the chance?”
“I do have a couple of reasons. The first being, of course, the much more generous contract, which you are free to sign or reject without consequences. And the second…” Raphael smiled, and stepped closer. The brief flare-up of fire, and he stood before Yurgir in his human form, head tilted back to look him in the eye. “Back then I had not yet bested you in combat as a mere human, had I?”
This time, Yurgir laughed. “Hah! You have my respect for that, yes. As much as it pisses me off.”
“How very flattering.”
A snort. “I don’t do flattery.”
“You obviously don’t do irony either.”
“Are you looking for a guard or for a jester?”
“As amusing as watching you dance was, I find this court has enough jesters as is. Am I to take it that you’re accepting the offer?”
“You’re to take it that I’ll think about it.”
“Very well. I’ll expect your answer in a tenday’s time,” Raphael replied, but he was already rather certain he knew the answer, and that he’d get it much earlier than that. Orthons were not known to spend days on end mulling over the ramifications of their choices, after all.
Yurgir did not bow or say anything before he turned to leave; once he signed the contract, of course, he’d need to get into the habit - but they could discuss such fine details at a later date. With a sigh, Raphael turned back to his throne, and changed out of his human form once more.
He had some work yet to do before he could dine… and he didn’t have to wait long before Adonides stood at the doors, clearing his throat. He’d barely had time to sit back on the throne, really.
“Lord Raphael,” he called, bowing his head. If using that title for him left a bitter taste in his mouth, he did not let it show. “The Steward of Avernus is here to see you.”
Raphael smiled. “Do let her in,” he ordered. Much like with Yurgir, he knew he had that contract in hand; the agreement with Bel may be informal - formally, only Mizora could ultimately relinquish ownership of her warlock - but the Lord of the First would not jeopardize such a fruitful cooperation over a single mortal soul, however gifted.
As many things in the Hells and outside them it was, in the end, all a matter of price; that meeting was indeed pure formality. Mizora would make a demand, they’d bargain, and he’d make a fitting concession.
Frankly, he’d have been disappointed if she hadn’t come to bargain. He knew her to be shrewd and relentless; he fully expected her to make him work for that victory.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
“... Anyway, the Shadow Thieves had been trying to get to this Mrel Alkam for years. As Durge and I do have some experience killing vampire lords among other things, we offered our assistance in exchange for-- well. Calling off their assassins. Which was a bit of an overreaction in the first place, the Cloakmaster was not going to miss some coin..”
“Heh! You’ve certainly made a habit out of destroying master vampires. What of the spawn?”
“We killed the ones who fought, directed those who didn’t towards the Underdark. Quite a few of them - seeing a spawn with no master gives them this funny idea that they could be the same, too. We told the Shades they got away despite us giving chase, and they bought that. Suckers.”
“And that is why they gifted you that beautiful vest you showed us?”
Astarion shook his head, laughing. That was by far the most pleasant track to Baldur’s Gate yet, he thought, in the sun and without a tadpole in his brain, no fate of the world resting on him, no prospect of going to the Hells, no Cazador awaiting at the end of the road. “Oh, no. I stole that, actually,” he said. “They did not like it, predictably enough.”
Isobel blinked. “Why did you…?”
“Didn’t think they’d notice.”
“Ah.”
“But they did, so they sent assassins after us. Again. Awfully touchy. Don’t worry though, they were not very good assassins. We got rid of them quickly, didn’t we, love?”
Walking a few paces ahead alongside Halsin, Durge chuckled and replied without turning. “Heh. They would not have made the cut for Bhaal’s cult, that is for certain.”
“Of course not. Didn’t make a cut on us either, but they made excellent meals. I mean, chasing a vampire and a dragonborn in a place called the Wood of Sharp Teeth? Not terribly clever.”
Dame Aylin laughed, loud and suddenly enough it caused a couple of terrified birds to take flight. “Hah! As if some assassins could hold a candle to you - challengers of gods, slayers of archfiends!”
“And of vampire lords, don’t forget!”
There was some laughter, and the conversation turned to the upcoming wedding, and to the others they were going to meet at Baldur’s Gate. Dame Aylin seemed to be looking far too much into Shadowheart’s decision to follow Lae’zel in her war against Vlaakith.
“She may not realize it just yet, but she is drawn to the Moonmaiden, as her parents were,” she declared. “She now wanders through the Tears of Selûne, closer than most can ever be to the Lady of Silver - she who guides, wielder of silver light!”
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure the lady she meant to follow wields a silver sword, and is liable to use it on whomever calls her a maiden,” he pointed out. His comment was met with a laugh.
“See, Selûne even guided her to rejoin her love! Those close to the Moonmaiden have a weakness for mighty warriors, that is obvious,” she added, and seemed very pleased with herself when Isobel chuckled and grasped her arm, leaning against her shoulder as they walked.
“That we do. Although who I truly fell for is--”
“The passionate lover? The stunning looks?”
“I was about to say the noble heart, but…”
There was more laughter, and time seemed to fly by as quickly as the road beneath their feet, leading them back to the Gate.
***
There were many things Dalah had not thought nor dreamed she could experience again.
Her husband by her side, for one, as solid against her as he’d felt back when they still had mortal bodies; his voice against her ear, the rumbling laughter, the earnest look on his face while listening intently to her every word. She remembered cherishing their evenings most of all: sitting before the hearth after the meal and just talking for hours on end. Sometimes he’d settle to listen as she read aloud from her newest book, or practiced playing her lyre.
Sometimes they’d just sit in peaceful silence, while she kept herself busy with embroidery and he only moved to throw some more wood into the fire. Such peaceful evenings had felt like a dream she’d had once and that, she was sure, she could never have again.
Obviously clairvoyance was never her calling, because never in her life or death she’d thought she could see such a scene playing out before her eyes - her husband and son playing a game of lanceboard before a fireplace, while she sat on an armchair to put the finishing touches to her latest work, occasionally glancing at the incessant snowfall outside.
With Israfel in his human form, someone stepping in from outside might have almost thought they had gone through the wrong door, and somehow into a portal to the Material Plane. Dalah smiled faintly, and turned her attention back to the jacket she was intent on finishing that evening… but she kept listening as they talked.
“While I feel this should go without saying, I ought to tell you that surrendering your soul to any devil is not advisable,” Israfel was saying. “Particularly if you plan on doing so for free.”
“But it wouldn’t be any devil. It would be you.” Rahirek picked up a piece and advanced it on the board. “You hold Dalah’s soul. May as well hold mine and bind me to this place too. I am never going anywhere the two of you are not.”
Israfel did not look up from the board, but as she glanced up Dalah could see him work his jaw a moment before he spoke, moving his Mystra.
“... Very well. I shall take ownership of your soul as well. But my offer stands, to both of you. Giving you bodies in your likeness to inhabit as well as riches would be a simple enough matter, should you wish to return to the Material Plane. For any length of time, if not permanently,” he added, before Dalah could speak out to tell him once again she did not intend to leave. “A vacation from the Hells, if you will. I could come see you and bring you back at any time. Promise me you’ll at least consider it.”
That, Dalah supposed, she could consider; seeing the sun, grass, trees once again, the summer breeze and the smells of autumn - anything that was not eternal winter. Maybe… yes, maybe a few brief stays would do them good. She smiled. “All right. We’ll consider it.”
Rahirek chuckled. “Tiring of us already?” he asked, and Israfel smiled.
“Hardly. I don’t think I’ll tire of this anytime soon,” he said, and moved his turret to knock down Rahirek’s Cyric. His smile widened. “Checkmate.”
Rahirek blinked, staring at the board for a few moments, and finally laughed. “Ah, that was a fine trap you laid out for me. And I fell for it. Either I lost my skills in the Fugue Plane, or you greatly improved.”
“I do like to think I have picked up a trick or two since we last played.”
“Good thing I have time to catch up.”
Yes. All the time we could possibly want, Dalah thought, and smiled before she set down thread and needle. There were a few more details to add - she wanted it to be perfect - but there would be time for it later. She stood. “It’s done, or almost,” she called. “Come try it on.”
The jacket fit him perfectly, but of course that was thanks to the finest tailor in Cania and perhaps all of the Lower Planes. Her own handiwork was the gold embroidery up the cuffs and along them hems, with the outline of foxes across the chest and the back of his shoulders. Dalah watched as Israfel smoothed the front, fingers brushing over the embroidery, and looked in the mirror. He smiled, and so did she.
“Well, look at that. My masterpiece,” she said, causing Rahirek to chuckle. She felt him step by her side, the warm touch of his arm around her shoulders. He hardly missed a chance to touch her, as though to make sure she was real.
“Indeed,” he said. “And the outfit looks good, too.”
“Wh--” Israfel seemed to stumble on his words for a moment before he cleared his throat and turned, acting as though he hadn’t heard the comment. “This is by far the finest outfit I have ever owned. Thank you, moth--”
“Oh, look at you! It’s almost the best you’ve ever looked.”
Haarlep was in the form of a handsome tiefling with storm-gray skin, and was wearing a magnificent doublet of blue and silver as they strode in. Israfel glanced over as he took the jacket off, arching an eyebrow.
“That one? It is… a good choice. I am impressed.”
“Do you doubt my taste?”
“I question its existence.”
“Ah, I cannot blame you. I did decide to become your consort after all,” Haarlep sing-sang, and leaned over to kiss the bridge of his nose. “You did leave some wine for me, didn’t you, my pe-- dear?”
“Mph. There is still some left, I suppose.”
“Aww, you did think of me.” Haarlep grinned, greatly amused by the somewhat flustered look that crossed Israfel’s features, before they turned to greet them as well. Rahirek returned the greeting a little awkwardly, which Dalah honestly could not blame him for.
Haarlep was no longer as inclined to share details that were best kept private - something about a clause in a contract, if she’d understood Israfel’s mumble right - but they did take… some time to get used. But that was all right, she thought. Rahirek was right when he said time was something they certainly did not lack, an entire eternity stretching before them.
Until not too long ago, that was something she’d avoided thinking of, for the sake of her sanity; an eternity of servitude, unless destroyed by a devil with a flick of a hand and barely a glance.
It was not overly rare for debtors to fail a task on purpose, sometimes - to try and end it all that way, even if one never knew whether a mistake would be met with destruction or with torment, an even worse punishment for the rest of that eternity.
Most still clung to existence one way or another, and so did she. Other than that stubborn desire to keep existing, time was all she’d had. But now there was so much more. Centuries upon centuries, millennia of this: her husband by her side, the yoke of servitude gone, the freedom to come and go from the Material Plane if so they wished.
And her son - the new Archduke of Cania. She was by no means an expert of infernal politics, but he seemed to be handling things well… and most of all, she thought as she watched him discuss something with Haarlep in Infernal, he seemed content.
Dalah felt Rahirek’s arm around her shoulders again, and leaned into the touch. She glanced up at her husband and reached to stroke his cheek, causing him to smile back. A stubborn soul who’d refused to let go of her for almost two millennia, until the impossible had happened. Until Israfel had made it happen.
There was no expectation whatsoever for anyone, let alone a mortal soul, to know happiness in the Hells. It simply was not supposed to happen… and yet Dalah knew no other name for what she felt now.
But then again neither was a cambion supposed to kill an archdevil, and rule in his stead. Israfel was supposed to die in Mephisto’s maw, or fall under his sheer power… but he had not. Once the dust had settled, he was the one still standing.
“It must have been a battle to behold,” Rahirek had muttered once she’d finished telling him the full story. It had taken most of his first night there, a night they’d spent awake and talking ceaselessly in one another’s arms, part of them terrified the other would disappear if they let go too long. “He was always powerful. I saw him use hellfire, once. He was only a boy, but he killed a peryton that ten armed men struggled to keep at bay.”
“Mephistopheles was powerful almost beyond comprehension,” Dalah had whispered in turn against his shoulder. “I… I barely dared to hope Israfel could come out victorious, even with help.”
She’d felt him chuckle more than he’d heard it, his hand pausing mid-stroke in her hair. “If anyone could pull it off, I’m not surprised it was him.”
“... Heh. He does have a habit of defying expectations.”
“Of course he does,” he’d said, kissing her forehead. “He is yours.”
Ours. He is ours.
His words echoed in her mind now, watching Israfel chuckle in his cup of wine over something his consort had said. She took in the scene, leaning against Rahirek’s side, a smile playing on her lips.
This too I claim as mine.
***
There had been few occasions - none, truth be told - when Wyll had been glad to see Mizora. Wyll could not imagine any situation where that would be different. If there was, one thing was certain: his wedding day was not it.
“Ah, look at you, pet. All grown up and about to enter another devious pact. You’ve come so far and still learned nothing.” Mizora’s voice reached him almost at the same time as the crackle of fire, the smell of sulfur. Wyll ground his teeth, and stopped buttoning his vest.
At the other end of the room where they’d been preparing for the ceremony, Karlach growled. “What the fuck do you want?”
Mizora barely tilted her head towards her, but her eyes remained on Wyll. She looked the same as always, but for more jewels adorning her horns and neck, ruby earrings at her ears. Steward of Avernus, now, as she was keen to let everyone know. Her lips curled in a half-smile. “Don’t you look dashing! I’m not certain the same could be said of your bride - even the finest outfit cannot salvage that… ”
Wyll scowled, turning from the mirror. She had made herself scarce in the previous months; he supposed she was busy in her new role, and she’d had few, if any, orders for him. He’d started to breathe easy again, and now - of all days, did she have to show up now?
“What do you want?” he asked, and didn’t react at the sigh and shake of the head, at the mutters about how the son of a Grand Duke should be more polite. Her presence was never welcomed and she knew it very well; obviously, she delighted in getting a rise out of both of them. Wyll would try his best not to give her that.
“I’m here to offer my congratulations, of course. And, well, my condolences, considering who you’re binding yourself to.” A brief glance towards Karlach, and then back to Wyll. Another long-suffering sigh. “And to say goodbye, I suppose. Oh, don’t look so surprised. You’ve known all along that there would be bids for your soul, and you know precisely from who. You’re still my favorite pet, Wyll, but surely you understand - everything has a price and your soul, delightful as it is, is not so valuable it cannot be traded.” Mizora cleared her throat.
“Clause Z, Section Nine - the soul-binder may relinquish the contract binding the soul-bearer to a new pact-holder, provided that her liege lord consents and a suitable price is paid to the soul-binder. For the barbarian in the room, this means our sweet Wyll has a new mast--”
“I do believe I can take it from here, Steward of Avernus. If that’s all the same to you.”
Wyll had no idea when Raphael had materialized in the room but ah, seeing him there - standing by the doorway in his human form, dressed in one of the finest attires he had ever seen - was a relief. For him and for Karlach as well, if they yell that left her the next was anything to go by. “You did it? You did it! You son of a bitch, you did it!”
Her outburst caused Raphael to chuckle. “Unwarranted as that last statement is--”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I meant your dad. Just to be clear,” she added, and Raphael’s lips curled.
“Of course. But yes, I am Wyll’s new pact holder.” He turned to Mizora, nodding his head only slightly. “Now, I do have a few things to discuss with my new warlock.”
A light scoff. “As if it isn’t obvious, what you plan on doing. A waste, if you ask--”
“I did not ask. And I believe there is a Lord Raphael missing from the end of your sentence.”
For a moment, Mizora looked as though she might scoff at that too… but in the end, she thought better of it and simply bowed her head - as little and as quickly as Wyll supposed infernal etiquette allowed her to. “A lapse, Lord of the Eighth, of which I am so very contrite,” she said, her tone light, and turned back to Wyll. “Well. This is where we part ways, I suppose. I’d love to witness the celebrations as you make the worst mistake of your life, but my duties call me back to Avernus. You may not believe me, but I shall miss you dearly.”
Wyll held back a scoff. Would she now? Perhaps. If there was something he’d learned was that devils were complicated; even Karlach’s history with Florenta the Garroter was proof that sometimes, devils truly may take a liking to a mortal… and it very rarely was good news for said mortal.
He recalled all too well how she wore the same smile when she gifted him the Infernal rapier for a job well done and when she’d forced him to make an impossible choice between his father’s life and his own soul, before he could even taste freedom again.
There was so much she’d put him through, and so much he could scream about for days on end… but now, on the cusp of the happiest moment of his life so far, the chains around him already starting to slip away, he found he only wanted one thing: to never see her face again. “I cannot say that’s mutual,” was all he said in the end.
Mizora only smiled. “Ungrateful as always, mortals. I look forward to getting word of whatever it is you get into next, pet. You cannot be accused of being too boring, at least.” One last nod, and flames flared up briefly before disappearing, taking her back to the Hells.
As the sense of dread faded, Wyll breathed out before turning to Raphael. It felt as though a weight on his shoulders had been lightened but not yet lifted. When he spoke, it was with the gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach that freedom may be snatched away from him yet again, as it had happened before.
“Do you really-- my contract, is it…?” he hesitated. Raphael smiled, lifting a hand.
“Ah, this contract?” A snap of his fingers, and the contact appeared before him. It exuded malevolence, the Infernal runes on it glowing faintly. “I do apologize for bursting in your quarters before the ceremony, but I figured you wouldn’t complain if you received this specific wedding gift early. Unless you wish me to hold onto it until--”
“No, no!” Karlach blurted out, waving her hands. “Now is good! Now is great, actually. I just-- gods, that’s really it?”
A chuckle. “Oh, it is. Quite the well thought-out contract - Mizora does know her business. And it is the only copy in existence.” He looked over at Wyll, and met his gaze. “A debt repaid, and my gift to you both. Wyll’s soul his own again, to keep or sell all over again however he may desire. Do you wish to do the honors, Wyll Ravengard, or shall I?”
Wyll looked at the runes; for a moment their red glow seemed to fill his vision, as it did on the night he’d first signed it, a boy of seven-and-ten desperate to protect his city. He breathed in and knew he could not bring himself to touch it. “Burn it to ashes,” he finally said.
“Believe me, no ashes will be left.” Raphael’s lifted hand clenched into a fist, and the hovering contract burned with white-hot flames.
Hellfire destroyed everything it touched and it destroyed his contract too, wrapping around it like hungry fingers and reducing it to nothing, just as Raphael had said. The runes glowed one last time, and were no more; and Wyll could feel it at last, the binds on his soul shattering with one last mighty yank.
He breathed in, deep, and even the weight on his chest was gone; in his eye socket, the quiet humming magic of the sending stone came to a stop - the matching stone gone, too. Never again would Mizora be able to track him down, or spy on him. But still…
“Well? Feel any different?” Karlach asked while grabbing both his hands, so quickly her tongue almost stumbled over the words. Wyll turned to her, and smiled. Did he feel different? Of course he did. He was free - he was finally free. “Yes. Gods, yes - the bounds are gone.”
Raphael chuckled. “Well then, I hope you enjoy your gift. Do forgive the intrusion; I see you have yet to finish preparing for the day. I shall see you at the ceremony shortly, I suppo--”
“Wait,” Wyll called out, turning back to him. “I can feel I am no longer pacted, but my powers are still… here. Are they not supposed to drain away, too?”
“Ah, yes. I am now the source of your power. With the contract binding you to me gone, I am to take that back. But I am a busy devil, you understand,” Raphael replied, and snapped his fingers. His words echoed in the room even after he’d disappeared from sight; Wyll could almost hear the smirk. “I shall make time to take them back in a couple of centuries’ time.”
***
“I hope they reserved front seats for us. And by that I mean, I definitely expect that they did.”
“Tch. The ceremony won’t be long, I’m told. Have you grown so lazy you cannot stand for a short while?”
“Oh, I certainly can stand,” Astarion replied. “For hours on end, too. But I don’t want to. This place is more packed than Durge’s bag of holding and I never enjoyed the press of a crowd.”
Astarion wasn’t wrong: the central square of the Sun District - a brand new district, built entirely by the surviving refugees from Elturel - was definitely full, both of its inhabitants and others yet who had come from everywhere in the city. It was not every day that one got to watch two of the heroes who had saved their city tie the knot.
They did, as a matter of fact, have front row seats - but they had to go through quite the sea of people first, in great part familiar faces. A very welcomed sight for the most part - seeing Zevlor talking to Grand Duke Ravengard had been a surprise, but not unwelcome; the fact Bex and Danis already had a child on the way, on the other hand, was no surprise whatsoever.
However, one smiling face in the crowd left a bitter taste of bile in Durge’s mouth; it brought back the wet sound of rendered flesh, the cracking of bones, the slickness of blood. Lakrissa seemed happy with the life she’d built for herself, but she still did not know - none but their companions knew - what had become of Alfira.
I should tell her, one day, and hope she can forgive me.
“Stop.” Lae’zel voice was sharp, and it caused Durge to blink and look back. Set met his gaze, head tilted back. Intense as always, wasn’t she? “I see you’re getting that look again. The regretful one. This is not the day for it; this is the day to celebrate.”
Durge chuckled, faintly. “I have missed you,” they admitted, gaining themself a scoff.
“... Well. I don’t find your company unwelcome, eith--”
“Are you two coming or not?” Shadowheart groaned, and grasped Lae’zel hand to pull her through the crowd, towards the small shrine that had been built for the occasion. It caused her to grumble, but she did not resist. It got another chuckle out of Durge before they followed, and sure enough there was a row of seats at the front; Jaheira and Minsc were already there, and Gale had clearly just arrived, with Tara comfortably perched across his shoulders.
It was good to see them again - although Astarion did trade places with Halsin so that he wouldn’t sit next to Minsc, as he often said that listening to him for too long made him wish the tadpole had eaten his brain.
“Yours, or Minsc’s?” Durge had asked once, laughing, and Astarion had made a face.
“Mine. Minsc’s was already long gone before the parasite nested in it, I think.”
By the time the greetings were done and they were all seated, with Shadowheart setting about to explain the finer details of a wedding ceremony to Lae’zel, Durge couldn’t help but notice that there were still two empty seats right next to them… and they had an inkling over who they may be for. The inkling was correct; the occupants didn’t take long to arrive.
“My, my. What manner of wedding is this?”
In his human form and clad in what was likely the most intricately detailed outfit Durge had ever seen - and there they thought they’d made an effort - Raphael was a sight for sore eyes. He was attracting numerous glances; Durge wondered how many more would be looking over, or running as quickly as possible, if they knew just who stood in their midst.
By his side was a tall tiefling clad in silver and blue, and Durge recognized that glamor as well. They grinned. “And here I thought the two of you would show up fashionably late.”
“I never found anything fashionable about lateness. It is quite frowned upon in the Hells,” Raphael informed them with a chuckle, and looked over at the rest of their companions. It was a little amusing, really, to see the difference between the reaction of those who had been through the Hells with them and those who had… not.
“Oh, um… hello? No hard feelings, I trust?”
“Ah, there’s my favorite incubus! I’ve been told you’ve kept up with the target practice!”
“... Raphael. And… Haarlep, is it?”
“I’m glad you two could make it.”
“Tch. Death did not hold you for long, and you slew your tyrant. I can admire that, devil.”
“Boo and I are watching you!”
Raphael bowed his head. “You may watch to your heart’s content. I do not intend to cause trouble,” he said, taking the seat next to Durge. “After all, it would put a damper on this marvellous wedding. Even the delightful Dame Aylin could see that, and stayed her sword. Not that it would truly kill either of us, of course, not on this Plane. We’d only return home.”
“Almost a shame she didn’t try. I’m actually pretty curious to find out what dying on this Plane feels like,” Haarlep muttered, taking their seat. “But then we’d have missed this.”
Durge smiled. “We did tell her you’re here as a friend, and that if she took her sword to your feeble neck - her words, not mine - you may be less inclined to return Wyll ownership of his soul.”
Raphael laughed. “Hah! She did seem to back down more easily than expected. How fortunate, then, that she does not know Wyll Ravengard’s soul has already been returned.”
“What!” Several heads turned to him, in various stages of surprise and delight. Raphael bowed his head, a smile playing on his lips.
“I am a devil of my word - that much you must concede me. I acquired the contract for his soul, and asked young Ravengard himself what ought to be done with it. He said I should burn it, and I duly obliged. The contract is no more, and he is no longer bound to the Hells.”
The relief felt almost physical, like something being lifted from the pit of their stomach; Durge hadn’t even realized it was there, had always been there from the moment they’d watched Wyll make the decision to give his soul away, all over again, for his father’s life. They smiled.
“Thank you, Raphael.”
“You owe me no thanks. I merely kept my word. Although I certainly do hope he is aware that I do not intend to retrieve it once more should he decide to give it away all over again for his city, his father, or whatever he feels the greater good is.”
“I do believe he has learned the lesson,” Halsin said, in the tone of someone who understood that sort of lesson better than anyone. “Karlach would never stand for it - she made it clear back in Avernus. None should take on such heavy burdens on their own.”
“Mhh. He is a slow learner, but if you did learn, druid, then there’s hope even for him,” Raphael conceded, smiling, and sat back.
Just on time, too: a hush fell as Isobel stepped to the altar before turning to face all of them and then past them, and smile. “Shall we begin?”
There was chattering, a few gasps, the sound of people moving. Durge turned to see that the crowd which could not be seated had parted and there they stood, walking hand in hand towards the altar. Karlach was striking in red and gold, and Wyll looked every inch some kind of fairy-tale prince in silver and purple - horns and all.
“Ooooh, I want that,” Haarlep whispered, although it was unclear whether they were referring to Karlach, Wyll, either of their outfits, or the entire package. Durge could not blame them: both looked stunning and, of course, deliriously happy. They turned in their direction to flash a grin as they stepped past, and Durge grinned back. Yes, they decided - Lae’zel was right. Whatever may come, they’d face it when it did come. That day, they’d celebrate.
The gods knew they’d earned it.
***
Karlach wasn’t sure how the ceremony seemed to go on for hours and come to a close way too fast at the same time, but somehow it did. Weird, but weirder things had happened; she’d hugged a devil, for fuck’s sake, and it didn’t get a lot more unlikely than that.
She was vaguely aware of Isobel talking about vows, and love, and overcoming unspeakable hardships to find solace in one another, plus more things she did not quite catch.
All great things, she was sure - but how was she supposed to focus on anything but Wyll’s face, looking up at her with a smile as bright as the midday sun? She just stared back, not really caring if her face was split by the biggest and most idiotic grin--
“--anything you’d like to say?”
Bwuh?
Karlach blinked, and looked away from Wyll just an instant to realize that Isobel was waiting for a reply, and her brain was blank. Well, she had tried to prepare a little speech and she’d memorized it, even… but now she couldn’t recall a single word.
Thank the gods, Wyll was more prepared.
“Karlach,” he spoke, holding her hands in his a little tighter, and she looked back at him. Was it her or he got more handsome in all the five and a half seconds she wasn’t looking? “You are the red of the sunrise, the yellow of high noon, and the orange of sundown. If you were a song, I’d never stop singing; if you were a psalm, I’d never stop praying. I love you. Will you be mine - today, and tomorrow, and reaching into eternity?"
There were some murmurs from the crowd - definitely more than a few sighs - and Karlach could only stare for a moment-- is it the engine or it’s really hot here? -- before she got a grip on herself.
“I LOVE YOU TOO!” she blurted out. Maybe not that great a grip on herself, and now she could hear laughs and a few cheers - but Wyll was beaming and fuck, it was all that she could look at. “Oh my gods, I've been dying to say that.” If I smile any bigger, my face is going to crack. “I love you. And I’m getting to live a life with you, and I’m gonna love it, and you, every second of it.”
A chuckle, and Isobel reached to place her hands on their joined ones. "Karlach, Wyll. Through hardship and across Planes, you have endured together - and here you stand in your day of joy. From this moment forth, you are no longer two, but one. One path, one heart, one story yet to be told. Your spirits entwine as the roots of ancient trees, unshaken by storm or time. Your blood sings the same song, a melody only you shall know.”
There was something now, a surge of power washing over her, causing Karlach’s breath to catch a moment. It wasn’t just happiness - it was something else, too, a cleric’s spell. All of a sudden, she felt as though she could take on a horde of werebears, and come out of it without a scratch.
“Let the moon above and the ground beneath bear witness,” Isobel was saying. “Your lives are bound, your fates are woven in the same tapestry. What has been joined this day shall stand for all seasons to come, as strong as the mountains, as endless as the sky. By the will of your hearts, you are bound in soul, in body, for all the days to come.” A pause and she pulled her hands away, smiling. “Go forth as one, and may your love be legend.”
The last words were already lost to Karlach. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Wyll’s. The infernal machine droned in her chest; it sounded nothing like a thumping heart, but Wyll still said he loved falling asleep to it. She smiled, a little breathless. “So, we did it. What’s next, husband?”
Wyll chuckled. “I can’t wait to find out, wife,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her.
***
“So, you're proper consorts now?”
“Oh, yes. I mean, he’d been calling me such for a while--”
“Durge did mention that.”
“But you know, words are lost in the wind. A contract stays - that’s the way in Baator.”
“Ah, the Material Plane is not that different. That's about the same reason for… you know, all this. Vows before witnesses, with the cleric’s spell and all.”
“I see.” A pause, and Haarlep tilted their head, still in their tiefling disguise. They had a cup of wine in their hand, a pastry in the other. With the rather stringent order not to take anyone’s body that night - much less devour their soul - they seemed intent on indulging in everything else available. “So, are you and Durge doing all this?”
Astarion laughed. “Oh gods, it’s not my style.” Maybe. If they ask, I might. If they ask, I might do anything. Damn it, they got me good. “But ah, if there’s one thing I learned is that you should never say never. We have time, after all.”
Sitting on a crate with his back against a wall, Astarion took a generous swig from his bottle. Most guests were eating the frankly stunning amount of food served - Raphael had probably had three servings of almond cakes before disappearing from sight alongside Durge - but Astarion couldn’t have any of that, good as the smell was.
No great loss, however. His companions as well as a few guests had been happy to donate to the Astarion Blood Bank fund. All he had to do was pretend, for the sake of the few guests from Wyll’s side who may not be aware of his nature, that he was drinking wine. Not difficult, with most people’s attention taken by the celebrations and the fireworks - neither the Ironhand Gnomes nor Rolan had, disappointingly, caused fires.
And then, of course, there was the dancing. That had been going on for a while. With very few exceptions - he could see Shadowheart and Lae’zel sitting together some distance away, talking over drinks and probably judging everyone in sight as true soul mates should - nearly everyone had at least a go at that.
Karlach had learned the courtly dance well enough, as it turned out, and stumbled around less than most other guests did while trying to match the movements of the bride and groom. Durge had somehow managed not to step over his feet, too. Astarion hadn’t been too surprised to notice that Raphael was an excellent dancer because of course he was. A small wonder he hadn’t tried to step in the bard’s place, too, to show off a little more.
But then the dancing had changed to… well, whatever Karlach considered dancing, and Raphael had promptly left the dance floor to avoid making a fool of himself. So had Astarion, who was rather content to drink some fresh blood and watch the general flailing; Halsin, he suspected, would dance more gracefully as a bear, and Gale kept having to dodge his elbows. He chuckled at the sight before he spoke again.
“... You know, if we do decide to go through with something like this, I don’t know whether we should invite you. I’m a little wounded, I must say. Surely we should have qualified for an invite when you and Raphael made it official.”
Haarlep laughed at the notion, drinking some more wine. The kind of wine mortals produced did not have the same effect on a fiend as Infernal wine would, but they did seem to enjoy the taste.
“Had there been a ceremony, you would have been, I assure you. But this,” they added, gesturing towards the ongoing party, “is not how such things work in Baator. A signature on a contract is about it. But I suppose my time with you did rub off me, because I went and got him a ring after all, as mortals do.”
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “You did? He was wearing no ring.”
Haarlep grinned. “Oh,” they said. “He is wearing it.”
***
“... Well. This is a surprise.”
Durge’s grip around his cock was maddening on its own - something about the scaly texture of their palms hit just the right spot - but when the fingers ran over the ring which sat tightly around the base, Infernal runes etched in the metal, Raphael almost cried out.
The chuckle rumbled in Durge’s chest, against his back, a puff of cold air on the nape of his neck. “Haarlep’s gift?”
“Who else, ” he groaned against the wooden crate he was bent over. A wooden crate in a back alley - what a change of scenery from his chambers in the House of Hope or at the Starspire… and it was half the thrill, really. There was another chuckle, Durge’s breath against his ear.
“Did you wear it, last time he had you in my form? When I felt you inside?”
Raphael smiled through clenched teeth. “I might have.”
“That was impressive.”
“If you dare credit the ring only--” Raphael bristled, only to trail off when Durge’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck to keep him pinned down. He huffed, trying to turn and glare. The ring had merely helped, of course. It simply made him last longer, without keeping him from reaching orgasm… unless Haarlep spoke a very specific word, in which case he’d be entirely unable to come until they muttered the counterspell.
Which they usually did. Eventually. If he pleaded his case convincingly enough. Or, as Haarlep put it with their rather inelegant lack of subtlety, if he pleaded long and hard.
“Apologies. You were impressive,” Durge said, and Raphal really hoped they hadn’t noticed how it made his cock twitch.
“Thank you kindly,” he replied instead, his voice just slightly strained. “Do feel free to return to favor at your earliest--”
An oiled finger pressed in with no warning, and Raphael’s attempt at a dignified response faded into a whine in the back of his throat. His head fell back on the crate with a thunk.
“I plan to. As long as you promise there will be more of that. Through Haarlep, or in person.”
“I-- I suppose I could invite you to my court, in the near future--” A sharp gasp, a groan, as another finger joined the first. “If your performance proves satisfying, that is.”
“Oh, it will be.”
To Raphael’s bliss and annoyance, it was. He did not say as much aloud, but the noises he barely muffled against the crook of his arm, and the way he arched into it, probably told Durge everything they needed to know.
He didn’t speak again until they were done and dressed, trying to erase all signs of their little tryst before returning to the celebrations… but what he had to say was not about their performance at all. “Have you given thought,” he asked, smoothing his jacket before brushing back his hair with his fingers, “as to whether you wish to know your old name?”
The question caused Durge to pause and glance over, still buttoning up their vest. They had thought about it, Raphael could tell; they remained firm in rejecting any and all ties to Bhaal, including the name he’d called them… but surely, the question was there.
They were a funny thing, names. Raphael had tried so long to escape his mortal name, and yet now he could not imagine his mother calling him any other way. It was what everyone now called the citadel which had once been named after his sire; it was as close as he could get to reclaiming it without turning his back on everything he had been in the centuries since Mephistopheles had him taken to the Hells. Raphael had been his name far too long.
He wondered if that was how the former Sharran had felt when she’d decided to hold onto the name she’d taken upon herself in Shar’s darkness, even after turning her back to the goddess herself. But it was a choice she’d made after knowing her old name.
Raphael did not voice his thoughts, and just watched as Durge went to finish buttoning up their vest. There were a few more moments of silence before they spoke.
“I do not wish to use it.”
“That was not the question. I would not even speak it, or speak of it, ever again.”
Another pause and then, slowly, Durge nodded. “... Then, yes. I would like to know.”
Raphael nodded, and snapped his fingers. A piece of parchment appeared in a burst of flames, hovering before Durge’s eyes; those eyes moved across the letters written on it, took it in… and then, finally, Durge breathed out.
“Thank you,” was all they said, and that was that. Raphael nodded back; a gesture, and the parchment burned away to nothing like Wyll Ravengard’s contract had only hours earlier.
Raphael smoothed down his clothes one more time, and smiled. “Well then,” he said, as though nothing at all had happened. “Shall we rejoin the celebrations?”
They did.
***
By the time the party ended, it was almost dawn.
Most guests retired to their homes to catch some sleep - no work for anyone until the next day, that was for sure - and Jaheira had to wildshape into a panther to drag a very drunk Minsc away; Durge could have sworn the growl around the mouthful of his jacket sounded a lot like ‘typical’, although it was barely audible through his slurred singing.
Shadowheart and Lae’zel were next to take their leave to return to the Astral Sea - or at least try to, because Karlach had pulled them both in a ‘girls’ hug’ and had yet to release them. Lae’zel wasn’t even complaining that much, Durge thought, and turned to comment on that with Astarion - but their eye caught sight of Raphael and Haarlep instead.
They were on the other side of the square, and seemed to be discussing something. Odd to see them still there: Raphael had taken his leave several minutes earlier, and they’d assumed them to be back in Cania by then. Durge blinked, and walked up to them.
“Is something the matter?”
Haarlep sighed, glancing over. “He is no fun, is the matter,” they declared.
Raphael returned the accusation with a withering look. “What I am saying is that jumping off the highest point in the city is the most moronic an idea you’ve ever been able to conceive--”
“Worse than coming between you and a balor in Baator?”
“The second most moronic--”
“And between you and a bunch of barbazus--”
“The third-- ”
“We’re not in Baator, and nothing would happen! I die on this Plane, and wake up right back in your chambers. A quick way home.”
“I can take you back just as easily. There is no good reason--”
“I’ve always wondered what dying on another Plane feels like.”
“Unpleasant, I’d wager. You may ask Yurgir, if you’re that--”
Raphael’s attempt at being reasonable was commendable, of course, but Haarlep was clearly beyond listening; with a quick look at Durge and a grin, they promptly changed their appearance to that of a cambion, and took flight towards the newly reconstructed Wyrm's Rock fortress.
“See you home!”
“Wha-- come back-- nngh.” Raphael groaned, and reached up to rub his face. “I truly can’t take them anywhere,” he muttered.
“I suppose they’ll soon have a new story to tell back at court.��
“Yes. The tale of how I sought to dissolve our union on the grounds they were never sound of mind,” Raphael muttered, and Durge laughed.
“You don’t mean a word of that.”
“... Regrettably, you are correct.” Raphael sighed. “Well. I suppose it is time I return to Cania as well, through less gruesome means. It has been a pleasure to take part in this event.” ‘And to get bent on a crate in a back alley’ went unsaid. “I do hope you enjoy the rest of this little reunion.”
Durge turned, glancing back to see that Gale and Astarion were taking turns trying to stir awake Halsin, now in bear form in the middle of the square and quite obviously in a drunken stupor, while the others watched with clear amusement. They grinned.
“I think I will, yes,” they said, and turned back. “Don’t be a stranger,” they added on a whim.
Raphael bowed, a half-smile on his lips.
“A stranger? Ah, but I could never,” he chuckled, just as flames flared up to take him back home to the Hells, back to Cania, back home. His next words rang out through the crackle of flames, the faint sound of ice scraping against ice, the distant notes of a lyre.
“Am I or am I not the devil you know?”

***
Aaaand it's over at last! Man. I knew this was going to be a long one, but I had no idea just HOW long. Good thing I didn't, 'cause I might not have even tried.
I had SO MUCH fun writing this fic, and I hope you enjoyed the read. Thank you to everyone who ever commented/liked this, hope the epilogue didn't disappoint!
*** [Back to Chapter 42]
[Back to Start]
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#the dark urge#raphael bg3#halsin bg3#haarlep#raphlep#wyll ravengard#gale bg3#karlach bg3#haarlep bg3#bg3 raphael#raphael the cambion#bg3 astarion#mizora bg3#durgestarion#wyllach#hell to pay
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Y'know, if Lila was just a one-off character for Volpina and we never saw her again, a few tweaks in that episodes writing could have made it a good lesson about not letting your temper get the best of you, even in a situation where your anger is justified
This is in reference to the post where I discussed how terrible Volpina's lesson is and I agree with the proposed change. If Marinette has to be in the wrong here, that's the only way to make it kind of work. In fact, this is what I thought the episode was trying to do on my first watch. When the next season started with Lila gone, I thought, "Okay, so that episode was supposed to be about being the better person and having a more measured response when you've been wronged. I don't think it did that lesson super well, but I can see what they were going for and we'll give them some grace. Definitely one that I wouldn't just give to a kid, though. Way too high a risk of them internalizing a very wrong message."
I only gave the writers that grace because I assumed that Ladybug had truly humiliated Lila out of Paris off screen (remember, we only see Ladybug out Lila to Adrien even though Lila was lying to everyone) and that is a pretty extreme punishment for a teenager making a dumb choice. Even then, saying that Ladybug was in the wrong feels a little too victim blame-y for my tastes. Lila was the one telling the lies and using Ladybug's name for clout on a city-wide scale or possibly even a national/international scale depending on the Ladyblog's viewership. By telling those lies, Lila was harming Alya's credibility and presenting herself as a sort of authority on Ladybug, a position that she was going to use to her advantage as we saw with her manipulating Adrien. She was also putting herself at risk if Gabriel or other villains believed the lies and saw her as a way to get to Ladybug.
That means that the lies Lila told aren't exactly minor, victimless crimes like the lies Marinette and Adrien tell to hide their identities. Lilia's lies needed to be outed on the same scale that they were broadcast and there's no kind way to do that. It's going to have a brutal edge no matter how pretty the words are.
There are times when it's right to be "the better person" and let a thing go, but it's hard to view this as one of them because this was not a nuanced situation. There was no reasonable option other than issuing a public retraction and Ladybug didn't even go that far! She had a single, private confrontation with Lila and then let the matter rest. A better version of this episode might see Alya and Marinette giving a really mean retraction on the Ladyblog that they then feel bad about because they should have been more professional, but that's about it as far as possible improvements go.
If we look at what the episode actually gave us, it feels like another Gamer situation. An episode that blames Marinette for impure motivations while ignoring anyone else's faults, creating a nonsense moral that just makes me mad. Ladybug-is-wrong-for-confronting-the-liar-for-impure-reasons is certainly a take. It's just not one that I'm ever going to agree with. To give a recent, real-world example, do people really feel that James Somerton was the wronged party because his many, many lies and instances of plagiarism were outed in a brutal public takedown? (Context part 1 & part 2, though part 2 is the one to watch if you only want to see why letting lies from respected sources go unchecked can be so messy.)
To be clear, I don't think that Lila's lies were Somerton bad in Volpina, but they were starting to go down that road and they arguably reached Somerton levels by season five. Fakes identities, almost getting Marinette expelled, using her lies to get social power from Gabriel, the list goes on, which is yet another reason to hate Volpina. Its nonsense moral is a big part of why Lila could do all of that. Ladybug should have outed Lila! Society suffered and will continue to suffer because she didn't. That's why you have to stop misinformation as soon as you possibly can, but that wasn't actually the moral of Volpina. The moral was that Ladybug was in the wrong for being mean to the liar. Maybe if she'd been nicer, then Lila wouldn't be so evil now which is a very gross moral! Volpina really does feel even more victim blame-y now that Lila is the new big bad.
That's a good segue to circle back and finish off my original topic: I gave the writers grace for Volpina until Lila returned and established that she'd never been publicly outed. At that point, Volpina lost any chance at me giving it charity. The lesson was worse than I thought and I was fully justified in hating it. It's one of the ones I use when I explain why I wouldn't want a child getting into Miraculous because the problem with Volpina's moral is pretty straightforward.
#ml writing critical#ml writing salt#lila salt#ml's wacky morals#I love fanfics that have Alya do a Todd In The Shadows style takedown of Lila#It's deeply satisfying to me#Especially since canon failed this one so hard and I don't expect future seasons to do better#How does an episode about a manipulative liar with an agenda have a moral about the superhero being in the wrong?
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Part 2 of the starter reviews. Gen 2, Johto

This was the first set of starters I chose from, but not the first I was exposed to, as i watched the anime and played Snap before i was given Silver, Gold, and RBY as a kid. Big shoes to fill certainly, and while they don't quite capture that same edge as gen 1, they are loveable and great designs in different ways. As opposed to gen 1, they feel a tad more natural and have a unified theme of type purity. It really says something that these guys were perfect as is for the longest time, until 2022 and later 2025 (this year). 8/10 collectively.
Now the individual break down

Chikorita is a cute design- probably not my first choice of grass starter, but it's still an enjoyable and simple design for other reasons. I think my main gripe is the flatness of the face, which just kind of feels like stickers on a radish. It's not exactly the best starter offensively and certainly has trouble in Johto, but honestly I've had better use of it in other places like Orre, Unova, or Alola as a caught party pokemon. Certainly a good friend, though. A decent 6/10

Bayleef is pretty much universally agreed to be the best of it's line. And why not? It's just a cool and spunky look that works no matter your tastes, and is just an overall improvement on Chikorita with a better face, color scheme, and leaves. The head leaf especially is super cool, looking ready for combat. Really cool 9/10.

Now Meganium- most would probably consider it a downgrade from Bayleef and one of the first girly starters, if not a bad one. While Typhlosion and Feraligatr are better imo, Meganium is a nice looking Pokemon with a simple yet pleasing design and premise. It makes some sense as to why Batleef looks a little better, because Meganium's general vibe was decided early in production. Still, I think Meganium is a Pokemon better suited to not being a starter per se- I quite loved having it in Alola via island scan in my Moon playthrough, for instance. I think Tropius would have been a better fit in an AU tbh, because at least the leaves remain and it's a cooler option imo. Still, not a bad design, probably better than Chikorita design wise, and certainly cute. I think it really gets a nice place to shine in New Pokemon Snap. 7/10.
Overall this line isn't as bad as some people think. As stated with Meganium, it's probably better suited to not be a starter outright, as that's where it honestly gets a better chance to shine from the sidelines rather than the spotlight. It's somewhat a more "girly" line, but it doesn't quite cross the line to weirdly human like certain later gen starters, nor is it overly so in a way that the typical boy can't enjoy it either. A solid 7/10.

Oh. Oh there's the boy. THE. BOY. Or girl depending. My first Pokemon, and what a certified friend. It's entire line kind of hit a rough transition to 3d, but Cyndaquil is still a wonderful starter for anyone. I fully acknowledge a bit of bias when it comes to my favoritism towards this line, but Cyndaquil is still a pretty solid design between cute, cool, and absolute buddy. 9/10, missing ears.
Quilava is a neat design that admittedly relies strongly on the particular artwork or medium viewed, because in some (like this), it looks like one of the coolest guys ever. And that's good, considering just how long you have Quilava in gen 2 games (for me, from gym 1 to gym 7.5 usually). I think it's a better middle evolution than some later gen ones, but it definitely is more noodle like in later gens and would benefit from longer hind legs. The color scheme and fire placement is definitely fun, though. 8/10.

Now Typhlosion is another Pokemon that really needs help from a proper angle and artwork to truly appreciate it. I am definitely biased because Typhlosion remains one of my favorite Pokemon in general, all stemming from my level 99 female one that I had in Crystal, and didn't find out mine was a girl until right before Red, who we never could beat until Soul Silver. As if time traveling had happened, my Typhlosion in the virtual console ports was also a girl, and together we finally defeated him. I consider that one to be my first pokemon's reincarnation since game freak failed to find a way to transfer from my Gameboy cartridges to gba, and it holds a nice place in my imaginary Pokemon ranch as the equivalent of a gentle, retired farm dog that's family. Otherwise, Typhlosion is just great no matter what game it's in, from Johto to Orre to Hoenn to Sinnoh, etc, it just fits in and works really well- it literally is a simpler Charizard in a way, even sharing it's bst.
From a design standpoint, the color scheme is a bit loose and goose depending on the material, with anywhere from a blue and peach, green and yellow, or black and gold, but all are fantastic choices. Like the other 2, the 3d era wasn't exactly the kindest to Typhlosion's johto model, but when it's viewed right, you can see a natural threat that's just as cool as it is simple. A lot of later gen pokemon are a bit complex in design, which isn't necessarily bad or wrong, it's just that Typhlosion is great with LESS. It even loses a fire spout and still looks cool when the flames blaze to life. An overall 9/10
As stated previously, Typhlosion's line suffered a great deal from bad models in the 3d era until about Legends Arceus and SV. But it's a line I hold near and dear to my heart and will always have a soft spot for. Simplicity and natural qualities carry the designs very far in a way I feel let's them hold up even to this day. 9/10

Totodile is a fantastic little dude and a fan favorite for a reason. Look at him. Certified little fella. A buddy if ever there was one- sure he might bite your finger off, but what bestie can't? Totodile is a rather complex design for its time, yet it works great and it still is a fantastic pokemon by itself that, arguably, doesn't need to evolve at all to improve itself design wise (sadly there is no item that gives us the anime option to pit babies like Bulbasaur against Regis to win). The 3d era definitely removes a few more brain cells than necessary, but it still holds up imo. 9/10

Crocanaw isn't exactly a terrible design- the caveman pattern is certainly... a choice... but as an awkward teen, it could have been worse. I think the rounding of the snout, excessive yellow, and retraction of black kind of take the design back a step- but looking at the jaw, that definitely speaks to a biting focused pokemon. I really don't have much else to say, 7/10.

Finally, Feraligatr. For some reason as a kid, I didn't connect this guy as being related to Totodile at all- foolish, I know. I think it's definitely on the cool end of water type starters- something that becomes increasingly rare as time goes on for some reason. Regardless, I really dig it, although a small correction I'd make is to increase the eyeshadow? Or whatever the black is around the eyes. Otherwise, fantastic, a hulking MONSTER THAT LOOKS JUST AS DANGEROUS AS IT LOOKS like a bro you can chill with and fist bump. Hell yeah. It has these strange pads that don't really make much sense, but it is a cool addition, I think, to help add to the design. This is a Pokemon I feel like I could see being a neighbor's or a classmate's from the bayou, and it feels like a really great fold to Typhlosion in a way. 8/10.
Overall the Totodile line is a classic example of how to do a water type starter right in a fun way as far as design goes. Yeah it's a monster, yeah it can eat you for breakfast if it wants, but I feel like that's the point of what a starter SHOULD be- a pokeMONSTER you've befriended. It's only drawback I find is really the lack of an update for it, but maybe ZA will change that. Anyway, solid 8/10.
Gen 3 next
#pokemon#dd reviews pokemon#pokemon gen 2#johto#johto starters#chikorita#cyndaquil#totodile#bayleef#quilava#croconaw#feraligatr#typhlosion#meganium
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should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good
"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,
no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.
readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.
the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:
several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.
it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.
overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.
the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:
i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those
act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good
things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests
things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.
and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.
so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!
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Our Allens <3
How would our boys react to the Barbie Movie?
Warnings: none
♡ Yassine ♡
I imagine that out of the two of you he’d be the first to see the trailer when it comes out.
Like minutes into its release, already in his Youtube recommended
He was well beyond the age of acting like he was too cool for it
It looked fun and right up your alley
You’re busy with work and he doesn’t close your laptop but he holds his phone over it so you can watch
You’re not too happy with the interruption but he just seems so excited, practically buzzing so you take the phone.
2 minutes and 42 seconds later, you’re up on your feet and buzzing with him
He’s quick to sift through your shared closet for things to wear (before everyone else decided to do it)
He’s got some pink dress shirts so he thinks he’ll be fine but you on the other hand
He’s not impressed by the lack of variety
There’s months before the film comes out but no, you need to be prepared and NOW
Practically dragging you to the mall to look for stuff because there is NO WAY you’re going to this film underdressed
He picks a hot pink skirt and white top that he thinks you would look cute in
He’s got surprisingly good taste, let's just say that and before you even open your purse, he’s paid for it.
As the release date gets closer and closer and more trailers come out, he has a new and even more brilliant idea
All black
“If you wanted to go to Oppenheimer instead, you could have said!”
He gasps in offence and pulls out the screen-cap that inspired him
“... also what is Oppenheimer exactly?”
“Yassine, I can’t wear a damn tiara!” “Why not?”
You end up having to wear the tiara
You spend about half an hour taking photos in the Barbie box before doing anything
He doesn’t post anything because he never posts anything but you certainly do and it gets reposted onto the Sevilla instagram because it’s just too darn cute
He cries at the Billie Eilish bit but gets over it quickly so you can jam to the Ice Spice remix together
“I promise you that I’m more of an Allen than a Ken, Angel. I would never believe in patriarchy! And I hate horses!” “...” “Okay I don’t hate horses but you get the idea!”
“So do you want to watch oppenheimer?” “Angel, I still don’t know what that is if I’m being completely honest.”
He thought that Barbenheimer was just a cool reference to how well the film was gonna do
“Why is it such a big deal that they come out at the same time? Mamma Mia and the Dark Knight also came out at the same time and no one said anything about that!”
You do end up watching for the sake of it but he’s not feeling it at all.
“Do you think that Cilian Murphy is more attractive than me?” “He could never.”
He’s quite pleased with that answer and he gets all blushy
He ends up dragging you to the next screen to watch barbie again right after for a ‘palette cleanser’
♡ Abde ♡
You’re definitely the one to push it in this instance
He’s young, like really young, so there is a little bit of an obsession with that macho image
Much less of it since he managed to win you over by letting it go but its still kinda there
Even with that, he may have read a couple of unflattering reviews (obviously from men) so he’s not got the best impression
It doesn’t take you long to convince him at all because the the way your eyes lit up is enough
He loves the idea of you dressing up all cute for it, happily help you pick an outfit but when you bring up the idea of HIM matching you, he’s not so keen
“Come on! What's wrong with a bit of pink? Most designer men’s clothes have a little bit of it!” “Yeah but that's different!” “Sure (!)”
You do manage to get his approval of one pink shirt but he’s a little bit sulky the whole way home and you give him the silent treatment for it
He respects your space but he ends up whining to his brother about it which feels like the biggest mistake when his mum overhears it; more of a blessing in disguise to be honest
“That girl puts up with so much of your nonsense and you can’t even put on a pink shirt for her Barbie thing without adding on even more nonsense? Ya Allah, forgive me I’ve raised a wannabe macho idiot for a son!”
His dad ends up overhearing as well and gets to a stern explanation
“In what world is pink girly? It’s a fucking colour, son. Any ‘man’ that associated a colour with being a girl is a west-washed little boy, you wear little necklaces and get an eyebrow slit but you draw the line at pink? I raised you better than that.”
His brother ends up chiming in too.
“Yeah man, it's a little scummy. It’s a pink shirt and two hours of your time, she used to wear that ugly yellow kit happily to matches AND she watches you play video games for way longer than that, and at least a movie might be more entertaining…”
At first he doesn’t really want to believe anything that they’ve said but he spends the evening pondering over it, only feeling more and more guilty and time passes by
“I’ll just watch it with my friends, it's fine!” but you’re obviously disappointed, he can see it written on your face and you don’t give him time to say anything as you walk away
He spends a good hour going back and forth with you about that, eventually just wrapping you up tight in his arms and apologising over and over again
“Pleeeeeeeeeeaaase take me! It’ll be fun, I swear! I’m a fun guy, am I not?” “You’ve changed your tune.”
“My parents didn’t raise a west-washed little boy, did they?” you don’t know what that means but you can’t really ask with your face pressed up against his neck.
“Should I grow out the eyebrow slit?”
You find the strength to pull away from him with that suggestion, “YES!”
To add to the apology, he lets you do his nails but refuses to let you push at his cuticles
Not that you need to do that anyway because his nails are beautifully shaped and you LOVED being able to paint them
He does indeed make it a fun experience when you go out for it and you get some really cute photos together
He spends a while getting photos of you in the booth on your own because you looked so damn adorable
During the film, he keeps pointing out the outfits he thinks would look good on you… so basically everything.
He’s intrigued by the giant fur coat but you immediately put a stop to that
“But look! it's so-” “Ugly! Looks like a freshly killed polar bear rug!”
By the end of the movie, you're both in tears and he gives you the biggest hug he can manage when you leave the theatre.
Its a genuine eye-opener for him
“I’m such a Ken, anjo!”
It's his awakening: he didn’t really like acting all hard and cool anyway and now he had a better understanding of just how dumb that mentality was.
Constantly talking about “boyfriend-girlfriend” things
You didn’t mind but you wished he would stop referring to it as that because you wanted him in all his glory and you didn’t need to be laughing in the middle of it.
♡ Hakim ♡
Its a cute little moment where you swap phones to show each other the trailers
He’s definitely more intrigued by Oppenheimer but he’s happy to watch barbie with you
Of course, so long as you watch Oppenheimer with him
Like Yassine, well beyond acting too cool for a movie and the colour pink
Your outfits match and are a mix of pink and black so you can really get into the spirit of the occasion
You match clothes quite often but it still makes him smile when you get excited and scan over the outfits
He honestly just liked doing stuff with you and vice versa
He’s not really bothered by what anyone thinks of him anymore
You watch Oppenheimer first and he can’t help but point out the things he told you about when he explained the movie to you
He has some of his own critiques and gripes too
He’s not impressed when he sees the American flag nor is he happy with the nudity but he’s okay with the film, overall.
Surprisingly enough, he was actually quite excited for barbie.
You had explained every little detail from the trailers and the underlying themes and easter eggs and he supposed that at least 1 live adaptation was ready to be faithful
You’re the more energetic watcher while he’s just extremely focused
Like his eyes don’t leave the screen once, he looks to be in deep thought
Although there is some palpable shock when Barbie is called a fascist
You’re worried when he hasn’t said anything by the end of the film, fearing that he was gonna be one of those
“Men really suck, huh?”
Big relief and you agree with a laugh
You spend ages talking about the little intricacies in the movies and the deeper messages, from when you get back into the car and well into the evening
He does post a little thing on his story: a blurry photo of the two of you
His brothers do tease him a little bit but they’d all watched it with their partners too and they were all in agreement: it was fantastic
They acted cool and stoic critics about it on the outside but the excitement on the inside was still evident
You pointed out one of the dresses from the movie that you loved, thinking he wasn’t paying attention but alas
He goes above and beyond to find a replica and eventually just settles on a tailor to make you a custom one
He has your measurements because he’s bought plenty of custom pieces for you already and he wouldn’t stand for anything less than perfection
If he was picky for himself, imagine how h would be for the love of his life
He gets a little slap-happy with it and ends up ordering like 4 custom outfits for you instead of one
He wondered about whether he should save them for special occasions but he concluded that he just couldn’t wait
I imagine you coming back from a long day at work and the outfits are laid out, in their garment bags
You assume that he maybe got himself some new jackets or something because that's pretty common for him
When you unzip the bags and obviously you’re surprised
“Do you like them?” “I mean yeah but… what?”
He can’t wait for you to process anything and he’s hurrying you to try it all on
Obviously you look absolutely stunning and the way he’s looking at you has you all nervous: partly because he always just looked at you like you hung the moon and stars but also you were slightly concerned that he was seconds away from tearing it off you
“Oh god, you’re such a barbie…” he knows exactly how big of a compliment that is, your beloved allen
♡ Nayef ♡
He definitely isn’t at Yassine and Hakim’s point where image isn’t that big of a deal but he’s an absolute sweetheart
Genuinely so positive and joyful, in that sense there’s a unique maturity about him
You call him over to watch the trailer with you and he doesn’t really understand but matches your excitement when you point out the little details
I feel like he would be doing a lot of his own research too, those youtube videos of people analysing the trailer frame-by-frame become his new obsession
I imagine he’d be getting into a lot of arguments on his burner twitter account with the bitter men trying to tear it down
He doesn’t care at all, he’s going to see barbie with you the first chance he gets and he’s going to find a matching outfit somewhere
You assumed he’d just find a pink shirt but no, he spends ages sifting through the internet for a ken inspired outfit that he could replicate and a barbie outfit for you, pink would not suffice on its own, you were gonna go all out with some proper references
He’s definitely the most Allen-esque of the boys, that's for sure
Proudly posts a photo of the pair of you on his story and your matching outfits with the reference on the side
He does get a lot of praise online for it for being so “brave” but he sees it as the bare minimum and doesn’t quite understand why it's such a big deal
Somehow he’s more excited than you at the theatre
And he somehow knows even more finer details than you as well, it’s kind of jarring
He LOVES the music and knows all the lyrics because he’s been listening to the album non-stop
He is in tears from America Ferrara’s beautiful speech
Constantly looking over at you like you’re a champions league trophy
The switch from emotional billie eilish to the upbeat ice spice remix is a bit of a shock but he just goes with it because at the end of the day, he’s having the time of his life with the movie
“You know I would love you no matter what, right?”
“Like you ARE extraordinary and perfect in every way but even if in some bizarro universe where you weren’t, I bet I would still be obsessed with you.”
And you fully believe him because he would drop anything and everything for you, no doubts in your mind whatsoever
I feel like he’d be so cheesy when you leave the theatre, like he’s carrying you to the car bridal style
He would also refer to the deed as “boyfriend-girlfriend stuff” for months
He would be dragged to Oppenheimer with his friends but he comes back home too you and he looks far from impressed
“Well it certainly wasn’t Barbie, I know that much!”
not my usual style but i just thought headcannons would be a better format since i got requests for all of them! i hope u enjoy, lovelies <3
#abde ezzalzouli#ez abde#footballer fic#football fluff#football fanfics#football fanfic#footballer x you#footballer x reader#footballer imagine#morocco#morocco nt#football imagines#football one shot#nayef aguerd#nayef x reader#nayef aguerd x reader#nayef aguerd imagine#footballer fanfiction#hakim ziyech#hakim ziyech x reader#hakim ziyech imagines#hakim ziyech imagine#hakim ziyech x you#hakim ziyech fluff#hakim ziyech fanfics#yassine bounou#yassine bono#yassine bounou x reader#yassine bounou fanfic#yassine bono x reader
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Do you think the fandom will come back, even somewhat, over time? You mentioned taking a break and coming back and while I personally don't think I will nor will other fans who have been harassed and hurt, maybe new people discovering the show in a couple of years will have a different/healthier take on fandom. Basically do you think time will fill the canyon and/or future fans will be able to make this fandom into something less toxic? Or the writing of S2 especially was egregious enough so the legacy of the show is basically fucked and never stood a chance?
hey anon! i'm sorry to hear about your experience within the fandom. it sucks that a place that is supposed to be fund and creative can turn into such a high school cafeteria, complete with all the bullying and clique behaviour.
i cannot speak for everyone's experience within this fandom, those who remain and continue to seek ways to curate a space for themselves and those who had to leave because it was no longer a positive space for them to be in.
i think it's unfortunate that such a positive show has to happen in one of the most turbulent and unsustainable eras of television. streaming culture and binge watching ruin the longevity of TV shows, and modern fan culture is too obsessed with consumption. OFMD came out during a time when a lot of things are in flux
new people joining the fandom will certainly bring new perspectives and have less baggage than the current bunch of fans, and i honestly wish the best to those who join to create new things.
the idea of the Canyon has done irreparable damage and harm to this fandom. it's become a convenient scapegoat, a label to slap someone with that you don't agree with.
didn't get into a zine? well one of the mods is a Canyonite.
someone writes Izzy as sympathetic or neutral in a Gentlebeard fic? well the writer is clearly a Canyonite.
in these instances, it becomes a conspiracy. it becomes a valid excuse to very weird about someone online. and this goes for both sides of this conflict: Gentlebeardies and the Canyon. i just think it's more weighted against the Canyon because, well, their ship won despite the fact that there was never any contest because it was always assured that Ed&Stede would come out on top. the fact that other people complain about other ships like Stizzy, Edizzy, and Steddyhands (always about these three which really tells you what this group is more focused on)
my final thoughts on this is that both sides have created their own block lists, but the Gentlebeardies side is less willing to admit that they are in their own canyon. the only way to really end this is to stop talking negatively about Izzy. stop doing ship war shit. there is so much more joy people get out of fandom if they curate it into a positive, uplifting experience rather than falling into this clique high school behaviour
as for people's reactions to s2, i think what will happen is something similar to BBC Sherlock s4. that season was written poorly and as fans came back to reflect on their experience with the show to realize it had always been written poorly. s1 of OFMD is still solid TV and there are parts of s2 that are good, and fans will do what they have always done. take the parts that are good and build off of them, take the parts that are bad and transform them into something good. or continue to engage in AUs and make something new. that is the positive transformative experience of fandom. but with the uncertain future OFMD, if it will ever get picked up for something new, means that some fans will look back on it and realize that s2 was a let down.
the legacy of OFMD has already made its mark, but the toxicity and the entire Save OFMD campaign will leave a bitter, sour taste in some fans mouths, and that will be part of the fandom's legacy until the bitter end. the abandoned fics with final chapters that layout harassment people faced and why they can no longer continue.
i don't blame the fans who've left. i only wish it could've been on their terms rather than feeling like they were forced out
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Moar Arlong!!!

Next chapter of 'Get You Some Arlong is now up. Tasty (NSFW) snippets are available under the cut.
o0o0o0o
Arlong’s affection for you makes it clear that he does care for you. But he is a prideful and greedy fishman, so there are times that can manifest itself in intimacy. He loves being on the receiving end of oral ministrations, sitting back, his proud flesh hard and throbbing. From your vantage between his thighs, he is like a god being worshiped by you.
And let’s be frank, he pretty much is a god in the bedroom. If this means you have to worship him sometimes, so be it… though it’s not as if you don’t enjoy it. You’ll take one in your mouth while using your hands or tentacles to work the other one while listening to his sounds of pleasure and approval, his fingers tangled in your hair as you minister to him. You enjoy the taste of him, and there is something thrilling about having his hard flesh pressing against your lips and tongue, and the way it will twitch with the right amount of fondling or squeezing.
He also likes a very visual confirmation of his ‘godly might’ over you, so these sessions usually end up with you getting at least a couple of loads shot onto your face or chest. The sight will often inflame his passion afresh, and he’ll fill up your eager pussy with more of his cum, leaving you quite a trembling, panting, sticky mess, but thoroughly marked – and claimed – as his.
Arlong may think much of himself at these moments, but as you know, he’s only getting that intense pleasure because of you. You are the one who makes him pant and growl in ecstasy, and it is your name that he utters when he’s coherent enough to speak.
o0o0o0o
As your bond with him strengthens, one night, you venture to bind him with your tentacles. Instead of simply massaging him as you often do with these writhing appendages of yours, you pull his hands over his head and bind his wrists together as you climb into his lap. He resists at first, but you make that tutting sound he sometimes does.
“Trust me,” you whisper. You are certain he could tear a tentacle off with that freakish strength of his – so good thing he has nothing to actually fear from you. “You are captain of your ship and crew, and lord of these islands. I do not question your authority, but perhaps you’ll let me be the boss here… for a bit of time, at least.”
He studies you with a half-lidded gaze and raised eyebrow. “Well then… let’s see how good you can be. You’ve certainly proven yourself often enough in other things,” he responds dryly, though you do not miss the curiosity he tries to mask.
There is one thing you have learned about him in your intimacy with him. He certainly was not lying when he said he enjoyed your touch, but there are times when he’s practically touch-starved, and it is a fortuitous matter indeed that he has a lover with extra limbs. While he is your captive, you put your appendages to work, stimulating him but denying him his orgasm. You can tell he is tempted to slide free of the grip you have on him so that he can pin you down and pound into you to sate his pent-up need. There is no mistaking the fierce hunger that burns in his gaze, his muscles taut or twitching depending on where you’re touching him.
His self-restraint is admirable, and you reward him well.
You have proven yourself to be good at dominating the mighty Arlong the Saw. He does not permit these instances often, but you know he enjoys it when you take control even if he will not say that out loud.
#arlong#bad guy gets the girl#villain gets the girl#one piece#arlong x reader#strawberrycatbeans#opla#shark smex#fanfiction#writing
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Pocket Mirror: Goldenertraum

Pocket Mirror is an rpgmaker horror game that was originally released in 2016, and the updated version was released in 2023. I wish I didn't have mixed feelings about this game, but I do, and I'd like to breakdown what worked for me and what really didn't. That said, I don't think this is a bad game, and in some ways it's a very good game. Regardless of the pros and cons, its certainly a memorable game.
Plot: The plot of this game was interesting. It is vague in a way that makes it difficult to break down succinctly. Essentially, there's a demon that has trapped (?) the protagonist in a dream/nightmare world (?) made up of twisted pieces of her childhood in order to obtain her name. The protagonist has amnesia, and piecing together her family history is very interesting, and is done in a subtle enough way that I didn't feel like I was getting hit over the head with it. The vagueness comes both from the demon's whole deal—which isn't really explained—and from the fact that the protagonist also has actual mental illness (likely dissociative identity disorder) separate from the demon curse. Again, I don't think the plot is badly done per se, and I usually like when things are left somewhat up to interpretation, but this is a little too vague for my tastes. If I knew less about DID I wouldn't understand a lot of what goes on character wise, for instance.
Characters: The characters were simultaneously my favorite and least favorite part. I could write character analysis of everyone in the game for days, even the ones who are only mentioned. I think the characters themselves were very unique, and seeing how they actually line up with common types of alters in DID is very interesting, but the dialogue writing was a headache and a half. Again, the main character has amnesia and is in a demon-built mind maze of suppressed childhood trauma. She has less than no idea what is going on. What's frustrating is the fact that all of the characters get mad at her for not knowing whats going on, and rather than saying anything helpful ever they tell her she's terrible for forgetting. Every cutscene is this extended back and forth where nothing gets said (granted, I only started to really feel this way after restarting for the third time to get all the endings).
Gameplay: I didn't hate the gameplay itself at all. I saw a number of people complain about the puzzles in other reviews, but if you play rpgmaker horror games already you shouldn't have trouble. There are two frustrating chase sequences, and one of them I had to look up how to do, but once I figured out the tricks it wasn't hard. Which is good, because the number of times I had to replay those sequences should have been illegal.
The Endings: There are 7 endings in the steam release of this game. I love extra endings, so this is great. I also don't love replaying the same game 7 times where the only difference is the ending cutscene, so this is also not so great. If you plan well, you could do much more efficiently than I did, but I really wanted to play my first play through blind, so I didn't optimize my saves the way I could have if I had spoiled myself a little. For shorter games, like Paper Lily prologue, playing through over and over to get different endings isn't a big deal, but this game is decently long for an rpgmaker game. Even with optimizing saves and the ability to start at different parts of the map in NG+, you're still playing through a good chunk of the game for any given ending, and the optimization isn't intuitive enough to do without a guide.
Extra: I do think the developers managed to nail the vibe of the game. The art and maps are great, the music is atmospheric, and there are some parts that are legitimately unsettling. It leans heavily into the gothic lolita style in a way that meshes well with the horror they use. In fact, the style and mystery of the game is almost reminiscent of early 2000s ps1/ps2 female protag. horror games, sans the usual misogynistic undercurrent (not that pocket mirror is on the same horror level as those; it is still an rpgmaker game).
This only applies to the new steam edition, but there's an achievement that you can get by collecting something like 200 pumpkin charms. I cannot overstate how much I hate this achievement. Everyone in the game guides hates this achievement. The long cut scenes that I discussed earlier and the fact that there's only a total charm counter instead of any way to tell how many you've collected per map make this easily the worst part of the game, bar none. I spent multiple hours after finishing all the endings trying to get all of those charms, until I decided my life has meaning and I don't have to waste it. I still don't have that achievement, which means I still haven't seen all the extra content because you buy extra character content using the pumpkin charms.
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(IDOLiSH7) Torao Mido - VD Winter Date Rabbit Chat: Part 1 - New Discovery!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Please note that I am not a professional translator. If you come across any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will make the necessary corrections.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Good work today, Mido-san. And thank you for the other day!
Tsumugi Takanashi: I heard from Yamato-san and Mitsuki-san that you joined them for drinks after the recording! It seems the two of them really enjoyed themselves!
Torao Mido: I see. I think I had a pleasant time as well.
Torao Mido: I often get invited by Touma to all kinds of different places too, although the spots my members chose had a slightly different feel to them.
Torao Mido: The place I visited with those two was a peculiar restaurant specializing in creative Japanese cuisine. When they were guiding me to an old building, I wondered just where on earth they were taking me.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Ah, could it be the restaurant they’ve recently taken a liking to? The one that is said to have been built by renovating an old Japanese-style house...
Torao Mido: Yeah, that's the one. It's a hideaway-esque spot with an earthen floor and a veranda. We sat in a private room around a sunken hearth, but I was surprised there were no tables. Like, how are we supposed to eat?
Tsumugi Takanashi: I understand, it can certainly be surprising if you’re unfamiliar with it and it’s your first time. I heard from Yamato-san and the others that the place has a nostalgic atmosphere, so I'd love to visit someday...!
Tsumugi Takanashi:
Torao Mido: You’re still underage, right? Once you become an adult, I’ll teach you what good alcohol tastes like.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Thank you very much! I apologize for imposing, but I'd love to visit various places together once everyone becomes of age.
Tsumugi Takanashi: And how was the food?
Torao Mido: We ordered fish and broiled it over the hearth. Eating while listening to the sound of the fish sizzling made it taste as delicious as the broiled fish they serve at high-end restaurants.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Wow, that sounds amazing! You can't go wrong with that!
Tsumugi Takanashi: I heard the cuisine was unique. It seems they have many unusual items on the menu, don’t they?
Torao Mido: There were way too many dishes. The seasonal dishes were also made with a variety of ingredients. It was clear the owner had undergone extensive training; I have to commend him.
Torao Mido: For instance, there was a dish named “A different kind of sashimi”. I found the idea of not knowing what kind of dish you'll get until you order it quite fun.
Torao Mido: When I ordered it, it turned out to be sashimi made from Japanese yam. It was my first time trying it, but it was good. I should tell Touma about it too.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Sashimi made from Japanese yam…. I’ve never heard of anything like that before!
Tsumugi Takanashi: I suppose it just shows how confident they are in the taste.
Torao Mido: They also seem to be quite particular about the production place. Apparently, they go to the market themselves every morning to buy vegetables and fish.
Torao Mido: Nikaido and the others seemed to be close with the owner. I got to taste some menu items that were still in development, but when "Caramel-coated Radish" was served, I seriously questioned their sanity.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Radish and caramel...!?
Tsumugi Takanashi:
Torao Mido: Shocking, right?
Torao Mido: At first, I thought there was no way it would work. But when I tried it, it was surprisingly good. Perhaps because of the butter, it had depth.
Tsumugi Takanashi: Did it have a sweet aroma? I can't even begin to imagine the taste...! To come up with a combination like that, the owner must be quite skilled.
Torao Mido: It's definitely innovative, huh?
Torao Mido: We were attempting to figure out what seasonings were used as we tried the dish, but we couldn't quite identify the instant coffee.
Torao Mido: Our chef makes creative dishes too, but I don’t think his vision is as broad as this. It might be good to let him try these dishes once.
Tsumugi: Takanashi: Dishes served at hotels and such often feature novel combinations that are not commonly found in normal restaurants after all, right?
Torao Mido: Do you frequent such places?
Tsumugi Takanashi: Ah… no, not at all. > < I've only been a few times for business dinners and such.
Torao Mido: Huh. So it wasn’t for dates.
Torao Mido: I’ll take you, then. What do you like? French? Italian? Or perhaps you prefer Japanese cuisine?
Tsumugi Takanashi: I wonder what would be good if we were to go with everyone… I’ll try asking them!
Tsumagi Takanashi: Ah, but I’m really looking forward to the "NEXT Re:vale" Valentine’s Date project!
Torao Mido: Yeah, they're apparently collecting ideas for the dates from the viewers and demonstrating them on the show.
Tsumugi Takanashi: It's not typical for ŹOOĻ to participate in this type of project, so it seems the fans are curious about what kind of concepts will be chosen for you!
Torao Mido: So far, we don’t know anything about the details of the dates either. Well, I’m just gonna do what I always do.
Torao Mido: I’m used to meeting others’ desires, after all.
Tsumugi Takanashi: As expected of Mido-san! I'm looking forward to the broadcast even more now!
Tsumugi Takanashi:
End of Part 1.
#idolish7#idolish7 translation#zool#id7#i7#ainana#torao mido#rabbitchat#rabbit chat#mido torao#i7 translation#midou torao#torao midou
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