#fascinating new thing

[featherandferns]

'shut up' (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

a fascinating new thing spin-off celebration fic for 300 followers (per this and this request haha)

content warning: drinking; anxiety

word count: 3k.

blurb: it's been a month since the moment on the hammock. JJ calls you 'baby' like it's the most natural thing. But some things have been left unsaid. Maybe one night, at Pansy's, where things seemingly started, one of you will kick up the nerves...

Ironic, how the first time you played at The Wreck you actively avoided JJ Maybank’s gaze. Now you seek it out. Whenever you feel the stage-fright creep up on you like a spider stalking in the night, you dart your eyes across the small but ever-growing crowd and find your boyfriend. He watches you like you’re some star-studded bigshot. Like you’re Beyoncé or something, holding the stage and audience in your palm. It does something to your stomach, still, after the month the two of you have been officially together. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to having JJ look at you that way, so clearly and unapologetic. If you’ll ever get used to having the knowledge that he knows the songs are about him.

So, as you sing the closing lyrics to the final song of the set, you can’t seem to break away from his gaze. You know your friends will tease you both about it later, and that whilst you’ll shrivel up under the light-hearted scrutiny like a prune, JJ will grin and bask in the attention. The two of you seem to equal out the scales.

“Suddenly, everything is easy. I’ve never felt something so deeply. Cause with you, with you, I breathe again. Baby you’re my oxygen.”

When you and Pansy harmonise for the fade-out, you finally pull your focus from JJ’s smiling face. Instead, you smile at your bandmate and best friend. Bob your head along to the steady beat of the drums as the song ties off to a close.

The crowd breaks into applause. Cheers and whoops and hollers triumphing over claps that make you laugh into the microphone.

“Thank you,” you grin.

There it is again. Your eyes falling onto JJ and his on you; opposite sides of the magnet, attracting. He nods at you, proud, and you feel your grin turn mushy, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a failing attempt to restrain it. Damn him.

“Thanks for being a great crowd, guys! We’re The Wallflowers! Buy our shit!” Pansy shouts gleefully.

Routine as always: the lights flick on, the microphones disconnect, the Reggae playlist kicks up, and the crowd tumbles into conversation, pours over their drinks, perhaps filter out the doors. The Pogues wander up to the stage as Mike shrugs off his bass and Pansy her guitar.

“You guys were dope,” John B grins from below the small stage.

“Like always,” Pansy winks at him.

“I’m liking the new stuff,” Kiara smiles at you.

“Thanks! I’m trying to mix things up a bit more,” you say.

JJ’s holding out his hand for you to take. You use his help to jump down from the stage, standing by his side. Try your best not to retreat when he leans down to kiss you in front of everyone. It’s not that you don’t want him to you; it just still feels somewhat surreal that he wants to, and does so, freely.

“We still hanging out at yours, Pansy?” John B wonders.

“Mhm. Empty house kids,” she grins. “Sides, we need to celebrate our new drummer who did a fucking awesome job tonight.”

As if on cue, Xander wanders across the stage from where they’d been hiding behind the drumkit. They grin down at everyone, their brow piercing catching the light of the restaurant and twinkling.

“You’re already killing it,” Kiara says.

“Yeah, way better than the last guy,” JJ adds.

You elbow him. The look that you flash him, however, tells him that you’re not mad.

Benny had quit the band not long after you and JJ became a thing. Things were already messy from the fight at the fair and the tone was forever changed. It was obvious that yourself and Pansy were honouree Pogues now and that if Benny couldn’t pull his head from out of his ass (Pansy’s words, not yours) then there’s no room for him in the band anymore. The two of you had talked about what went down. It was awkward and uncomfortable and painful, to look at someone who you once saw as an irreplaceable friend and now only recognise as a decent drummer. Benny confessed that staying in the band with you, knowing he couldn’t be with you, would be too painful. You refused to let yourself feel guilty. You wouldn’t change how things went down and selfishly, if it meant you got to keep your friends and JJ in your life, then Benny would have to slip through the cracks.

JJ’s arm slinging over your shoulder, tugging you closer to his chest, has you tuning back into the conversation again. You wrap an arm gently around his waist. His tee shirt smells of salt water and cheap cologne. It’s so wonderfully him that you have to keep from burying in it. It’s strange how a few months ago you’d almost come to peace with the fact that you’d maybe journey through life alone romantically, with nothing but good friends and music to accompany you, and now here you are, fitting so well under JJ’s hold that it’s like you were made to be there.

“So once she’s finished up there, her and a few of her friends are gonna come over. If that’s cool with you, Pansy,” Mike finishes saying. By ‘she’, he means his now official girlfriend, Tara.

“Of course! The more the merrier!”

You smile at your little group of friends. Slightly misfitting and far from what you’d expect, but perfect, nonetheless. Pansy and JJ’s effervescent energies; Kiara and Mike both laid back and argumentative at the same time; Xander’s stories that allotted perfectly with Pope’s; John B flitting in and out of conversations seamlessly, like a school of fish leisurely navigating through a sea of kelp and coral. And you, surrounded by so much love you don’t really know what to do with it.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Baby. JJ started calling you that a week after the moment on the hammock. You liked it, being someone’s baby. Being his baby.

“Mhm,” you smile up at him.

With that, you filter out the restaurant. You’d already agreed with Kiara’s dad that you’d tidy up the band stuff tomorrow morning, before opening. This was your fourth time playing there, so it was a well-made routine by now. Walking towards the cars, Kie steals you away to have you ride with herself, Pansy and Xander in the pick-up. The boys pile into the Twinkie and Mike has to duck his head hopelessly as he clambers in. Oh to be six-foot six. The conversation that comes between the four of you is light and easy, with anecdotes about school being tossed around like a volleyball on the beach. By the time you pull up to Pansy’s house, your chest aches from laughing. The guys pull up just moments later in the twinkie as you climb out the pick-up.

“You guys giving my girl laughing gas or something? She’s grinning like a mad man,” JJ hollers as he jumps out the van. 

“Just finally in the presence of someone who’s funny, is all,” Pansy jabs. Your friends ‘ooh’ in return.

JJ takes your hand and the lot of you climb up the stairs to Pansy’s house. There’s an unspoken agreement to hang out near the pool. People swipe up some beer and liquor and mixers on the way. Pansy connects to the speaker and you all relax into seats and loungers. Conversations carry from the cars to the garden like driftwood on the tide. JJ practically pulls you down to sit in his lap. An arm coils around your waist comfortingly.

“This okay, baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

Your skin prickles pleasantly. Baby.

“Mhm,” you nod, looking at him. He presses a kiss against your lips, fast and fleeting.

Then the two of you are accepting red solo-cups filled with beer and smiling into the chatter. JJ gets tangled up in some heated debate, leaning forward and energetically arguing his case through a grin. His arm tightens its hold on you, though never painfully so, whenever he does. For the most part, you’re content in listening along. Nodding and laughing. Whispering jokes into JJ’s ear that you don’t quite have the nerve to toss into the group, and basking in the laughter it draws from him.

When Tara does show up, ‘a few of her friends’ ends up being nearly ten people. They’re all nice enough, smiley with drinks in hand, but they’re also all buzzed and way more extroverted than you will ever be. The pitch of the conversation rises by about three notches. It’s harder to follow along with a conversation and harder still to sit in your blissful observation position on JJ’s lap. It seems Tara’s friends are hellbent on ‘including you’ in the conversation, but their way of doing so involves grilling you with questions. They’re not rude or invasive, but you don’t like being under so many eyes, waiting on what you have to say when you don’t really have much to say at all. Instinctively, you start drawing shapes on the back of JJ’s hand that’s resting on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure? Think you’re painting a Mozart on my hand there.”

“You mean Monet,” you say.

JJ rolls his eyes. Presses a kiss to your cheek. “Smart ass.”

There’s a roaring round of laughter. You sigh and try to ease the tension that’s forming in the back of your throat. It’s so dumb. These are your friends. You’ve met Tara before and she’s lovely. A little intimidating in a could-be-a-bikini-model-six-foot-four-long-perfect-hair way, but still lovely. Her friends aren’t mean Kooks. They’re all pretty chill. They seem to be meshing well with the rest of the Pogues, too. You catch Kiara’s eyes as you scan the conversation. She frowns the moment she lays eyes on you.

‘You okay?’ she mouths.

You nod. You don’t want to be a party pooper. Everyone’s having fun, including JJ.

He squeezes your thigh, grabbing your attention once more.

“Come on,” he says, moving to stand up. You frown but shift onto your feet, with JJ in tow.

“What’s up?”

“We’re going inside for a sec,” he tells you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I’m fine. Really.”

JJ looks down at you. Whilst his expression doesn’t exactly change, you get this feeling that his thoughts are ‘yeah, right.’

“Well, I wanna check out this Kook mansion and I need a tour guide,” he replies.

You smile at that, despite your efforts not to. Hands interlocked, you follow JJ out of the small gathering and into the kitchen. Flush like you’re on fire at the wolf-whistle John B sends your way when you do. In both your and JJ’s spare hands are your solo cups, half full of beer. There’s a pleasant hum to your thoughts, giving everything a colourful edge almost.

“You’ve been here before, remember,” you say to him as he guides you both through the empty house. It’s almost insulting that three people live here, at most.

“Well, I spent most of it in the bathroom so—”

“Oh! Really?”

He grins down at you and you laugh.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to spend it in the bathroom!”

“Mhm,” you grin, rolling your eyes. The two of you make your way up the stairs. Automatic lights flick on as you do.

“I’d rather spend the night sat with some cute Powerpuff girl than hang out with the loser Kooks downstairs,” JJ says. That has you flustered. You squeeze his hand.

“Shut up.”

“You did it again.”

“Shut up!”

JJ imitates you, shrivelling up under the compliment, and you laugh and swat at his arm. His lifelong mission to make you accept a compliment is one month in and currently unsuccessful. As you guys wander down the seemingly never-ending corridor, you remember something you and Pansy did once. With that thought, you take the lead, pulling JJ behind you as you guide the two of you into one of the may spare bedrooms. It smells a little musty, though nothing like a museum. It’s fresh must: like worn-down reed diffusers and fresh cotton that never got tainted. On the bed lies tons of winter clothes as if someone was halfway through clearing out a wardrobe.

“Where are you taking me?” JJ asks, humour light in his voice.

“To my secret spot.”

“Ooh.”

“Ooh,” you echo teasingly, flashing a smile at him over your shoulder.

Handing your cup to JJ, you pull the window open and glance out, checking you have the right room. There’s the extension’s roof, underneath, solid as a rock. Smiling, you gesture your head for him to follow and then you’re climbing onto the roof. JJ chuckles a little.

“Didn’t know I was dating spiderman, but okay.”

“You can’t tell anyone my secret identity,” you joke in reply.

You’re watching where you’re placing your feet, checking your balance. Holding out your hand for your beer, JJ passes over the cup then grunts as he clambers out to join you. The two of you settle on the roof top. It’s a starry night tonight. The universe seems as though it may stretch on for miles. Countless sparkles of light illuminate above you, basking in the absence of light pollution.

“Woah.”

“I know, right?” you smile.

JJ grins up at the sky, captured in awe. It’s adorable how boyish and young he seems when he does. Some things that mother nature does can stop anyone in their tracks: young and old, fat and thin, rich and poor. Beauty doesn’t have limits. You would know, looking at one of the most beautiful things on the planet, right before your eyes. Dirty-blonde hair brightened by natural highlights from too many hours on the water, under the sun. Crinkles by the eyes that never quite go, even when he isn’t smiling. A jawline taken from a sketchbook and a smile that can make someone fold at the knees and swoon at the heart. You take to admiring your boyfriend the same way he admires the stars.

If you told childhood you that you were now sat on top of Pansy’s roof with your school-long crush, sipping beer and watching stars, you’d send her to A&E for a stroke.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, not drawing his eyes from the view above.

“So?”

“So,” he smiles.

“You’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to stare, aren’t I?”

JJ’s smile takes on a little edge, like he’s proud. He glances down at you. “Like how that sounds. ‘Boyfriend’.”

You flush. “I mean, you are, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I?” he teases.

You roll your eyes and gently shove his shoulder. JJ laughs. The sound makes you smile, like a reflex.

“Shut up.”

“Might start taking a shot for every time you say that to me.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, because you can’t think of something else to say.

JJ guffaws. He slinks an arm around your waist and tugs you nearer to his side. You rest your head against his collar bone with a sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you eventually say into the almost-silence. There’s the carrying sound of your friends’ chatter from below, managing its way up to the roof.

“Of course I am,” he says, teasing worn down. “Come on – thought we made that happen on the hammock.”

“Well, so did I, but we never officially said anything,” you quietly tell him.

JJ swallows. He knows what you mean. It’s impossible not to. That day went from being one of the best, to one of the worst, to one of the best days of your life. Things were left unsaid from it but things changed, nonetheless. The spot next to JJ was reserved for you; his texts became more flirtatious, more sweet, more sensitive; the two of you would kiss, whenever and wherever (something that you still can’t quite get used to); and you and JJ would spend time together with nobody else around. The ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ thing felt pointless. The ‘I love you’ thing, however, felt a little less right being left untouched.

“I gotta tell you something,” JJ says. He shifts so the two of you can meet the other’s gaze. You swallow down the nerves.

“Don’t tell me: you’ve got the clap,” you deadpan.

JJ smiles. He laughs silently, shaking his head. You still can’t believe he finds you funny. That he wants to hear your jokes more than anyone else’s.

“Not quite.”

“Gonorrhoea?”

“Shut up,” he sniggers, shaking his head.

You point a finger at him, grinning. “Aha! You said the thing!”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?”

“Nothing’s impossible if you just believe in yourself,” you hum, perhaps a little more drunk than you thought. Maybe that’s just him though. JJ tends to have that effect on you.

The only way it seems that JJ can think of shutting you up is to kiss you. You smile, slipping your hand over his atop of the grainy fabric of the roof tiles. Kissing JJ is like seeing a supernova: impossible to describe; faultless and insurmountably beautiful.

“What I was trying to tell you,” JJ says the moment his lips break from yours. Then, another kiss. “Is that” – another kiss – “I love you.”

You break apart with that, falling short of breath. You slowly open your eyes. Glance up to his, near reluctant. Wait for his jeer down to his friends or the punchline to follow, because surely – surely, he doesn’t. Could he? He’d sort of said it on the hammock, but when you pushed, he pulled away, and it made you wonder if you misinterpreted it. There’s a difference between having a thing for the quiet, weird girl and being in love with her.

Maybe all of these thoughts read easy on your face, because JJ’s half-smiling, half-frowning, and thumbing at your cheek.

“I mean it,” he quietly affirms. “I’m in love with you.”

“How do you even know that?” you whisper.

JJ smiles fully now. He shrugs. “I just do. I just…I don’t know. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I didn’t even know it.”

“Everything?”

Your quietness? Your weird sense of humour? Your awkward punchlines? Your baking? Your crocheting? Your music? Your singing? Your body? Your figure? Your face? Your smile? Your voice? Your brain?

“Everything,” he nods reassuringly.

Kisses you once more, firm and fierce, and you kiss him back. That familiar zip chimes up and down your body, lighting up your neurons and firing away at your synapses. Being told by JJ Maybank that he loves you feels akin to Gabriel declaring to Mary that she was chosen. That you’re special, and beautiful, and maybe somehow sexy. That you’re talented and wanted and funny – he thinks you’re funny. He’s taken the time to know you and to understand you. He waited for you and you waited for him. And now, here, it’s like he’s the king of your heart. Maybe you ought to crown him for showing you these colours of the world and for teaching you the language of his tongue. For changing your life in every way a person probably can.

There’s only one type of crown you can think to give.  

“I love you too, JJ.”

Thanks for 300 followers everyone <;3

[puppppppppy]

who is your favorite AA character? 👁️👁️

ziska… I hope capcom brings her back someday

[starry-bi-sky]

do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.

His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.

His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.

Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.

Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.

Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.

But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.

But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.

He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.

And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.

And the truth is worse than all of the lies.

How horrifying.

[anxiousapplepie]

Last day of the year, and what did I feel like drawing after 2 days of not drawing anything at all? Crossover shenanigans! Courtesy of all the cool stuff @storyboard-sketch has been doing! (and more specifically this snippet of a fic that I've been lightly toasting at the back of my mind like a comforting marshmallow covered in icing sugar) Also figured it was time I tried drawing a werewolf again, and Werewolf!Isa gave me the perfect excuse to do that :3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[ittybittybumblebee]

billybilly

[krillford]

I like to think they infodump to each other (this is what love looks like)

[froschli96]

Can we talk about how Kadar says to Altaïr in the beginning: "An excellent kill! Fortune favors your blade!", and then in the bureau with Malik, before Altaïr goes to meet "Robert", Malik says to him "Fortune favor your blade, brother."

And then THAT is what prompts Altaïr to actually finally apologize to him?

(It's these little things in the writing that make me go feral! Another one of my favorite parts is Altaïr and Malik calling each other "Dai" - Altaïr first calls Malik Dai before doing investigations during the Majd Addin mission, showing his character growth in how he's willing to humble himself in front of Malik by basically acknowledging him as a superior of sorts (he's even THANKING him here for his help - compare this to "I am your superior, in both title and ability! You should know better than to question me!"), and then when they last talk before Altaïr goes to confront Al Mualim, Malik calls HIM Dai, in turn acknowledging his growth 😭 I just... I love them so much, I don't even know what to do with myself anymore.)

[tennospaceboots]

I thought I fumbled when it kept getting more heated (Drifter has strong opinions here) but thankfully Eleanor does enjoy a good brain fight in the end (and getting to vent)

[featherandferns]

the first time jj saw you, from his point of view (a fascinating new thing drabble):

“You’re late,” Kiara hisses.

“Hardly,” JJ replies.

“Hardly? You missed the first four songs!”

“So? I’ll hear the last five,” JJ shrugs. He takes his flask out his short pockets and takes a sip. Kiara’s watching him, unimpressed. He eventually looks at her. “What?”

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t reply. Swallowing and capping the flask, returning it to his pockets, he glances around at the crowd. He’s not sure he’s ever seen The Wreck so busy. He seems to have arrived at an impasse between songs. There’s a girl talking through the microphone, getting the crowd to jeer and applaud. JJ looks to the stage, scans his eyes across the four musicians, not recognising any of them.

“So, which one are you friends with?” he asks Kie.

“The girl that’s singing,” she tells him.

JJ’s eyes flit to the middle girl. You’re dazzling under the low lights, shining above the stage. There’s one hand clasped around the microphone stand. You’re looking to the girl playing guitar, who’s still chatting away into her mic, and you’re smiling. It’s a reserved smile, almost secretive. There’s a pair of blue denim shorts on your legs, with a t-shirt halfway tucked in, faded and washed. On one wrist is a series of bracelets and around your neck is a string of pearls.

“The pretty one?” he checks.

Kie glares at him. “Don’t even think about it, JJ.”

“I’m just stating a fact!” he defends.

“She’s quiet, JJ. I don’t need you scaring her off by being all…well, JJ-like,” Kiara settles on, her tone firm with warning.

JJ rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets. JJ-like? Quiet? You don’t seem all that quiet, as you glance out to the audience. Your eyes don’t seem to focus on one person, scanning the heads, and then you’re talking into the microphone.

“This next song is one of my favourites,” you say in a cherubic voice.

There’s the quiet echo of you counting the band in, and the ginger-haired boy on the drums taps his sticks in time. The lyrics and music come in at once.

“Say you miss me. Say you wanna kiss me. I liked it better when you improvised the story we had. If you adore me, why do you ignore me? I liked it better when you sent me ‘sorry’ when I was sad.”

JJ finds himself tapping his foot along to the beat. It’s good. Catchy. Your voice sings out, effortless and light like buttercream. There’s a glaze to your face, like you’re lost in some world that the lyrics pull you into. He takes out his flask once more, has another sip, and lets himself enjoy the music. JJ can’t seem to pull his eyes from you; you’re enchanting to watch. Maybe tonight won’t be as much of a drag as he thought it would...

[gatoraid]

Okay we all know Ouyang was thirsting after Xu Da in He Who Drowned the World but can we also talk abt how Xu Da talks about and reacts to Ouyang throughout the series??

I mean first we’ve got this bit in She Who Became the Sun before they meet him on the battlefield:

“Come on, let’s get some rest. If he’s as beautiful as you say, I feel like I should get my beauty sleep so he can be distracted by the breathtakingly good looks of our side, too.”

- SWBTS ch 17

Or this discussion between Zhu and Xu Da:

“Pity you’re not my wife’s type. I could do with some offspring.” [-] “If you want good-looking sons, I’m your man,” Xu Da said agreeably. “But it’s true, your wife does seem to prefer short little men who look like women—” Then he fell back, laughing uproariously. “Oh, is the eunuch her type? He is!” “How does that help!” Zhu said, exasperated. “He’s not any better than I am for that kind of thing. Also there’s the small matter of how much he hates us.” Xu Da smirked. “Hates you. Relative to that, I think his feelings towards me might be quite positive.” “Relatively speaking. You can always test it in absolute terms by paying him a visit and seeing if he causes you to spout blood from your seven orifices.”

- HWDTW ch 5

After Ouyang gives him mouth to mouth:

As [Xu Da] wiped the hair out of his eyes, he croaked, “We have a huge problem.” “Problem?” [—] Xu Da said with great drama, “I’m so handsome, even a eunuch can’t resist me.” Ignoring Ouyang’s savage look, he laughed until he went into a spasm of coughing, then climbed to his feet[-].

- HWDTW ch 7

And much later, when Ouyang has already betrayed them and Zhu is trying to convince Xu Da to give a demonstration of how drowned people can be brought back to life:

“Do it right, little brother. You’re not as pretty as the eunuch was, but I don’t think I’ll be in a position to be picky,” Xu Da said in an undertone, so the men couldn’t hear.

- HWDTW ch 17

[blamemma]

pov: you get daniel ricciardo to try a new red bull flavour | 📹

[chronurgy]

Of the two versions we're given of Karlach's back story I strongly prefer the one we get in act one

(In act one she says that working for gortash allowed her to move her parents to a nicer neighborhood while in act 3 she says they were dead before she ever met him)

I just think there's a much more interesting and tragic story contained in the first version

It asks a lot more questions and those questions give karlach more depth - did she see? Did she know? Did she choose not to see anything? What was she willing to do, what was she required to do, in the name of keeping her aging parents safe?

It also could have resulted in some incredible moments when she returned to Baldur’s Gate after all that time away - reunion scenes with her parents in much reduced circumstances or finding out that one or both had died. Maybe they'd blame her, assuming she ran off and was lying. Maybe they'd welcome her home with open arms. Maybe they'd be doing just fine! Or worse, if gortash had stepped in to look after them, leaving them praising the generosity of the very man that sold her! It could work really well in bg3's examination of various types of abuse (And would play so well with Gortash's issues with his own parents). All of those possibilities (and more) could have lead to some FASCINATING character moments for karlach and I'm so sad we didn't get them.

There's just so much more potential in that storyline and I really wish larian had stuck with it!

[kitnita]

jason robertson postgame   —   DAL vs CHI   —  12.29.24

[how do you feel about your individual game lately? seems like you might’ve been trending in the right direction — how do you feel like you’ve been playing recently?] yeah, i think, um … i mean, i think december’s been trending in the right way. um, definitely feeling better, feeling better. um — thirty-five games in … you wanna try to get on a roll here. and what’s exciting is we have a whole new year coming soon, so. um, yeah, i can move on and try to build off of it and get excited for the new year.  [what’s the process been like coming back from the surgery? it’s something you’ve never had to do before, right?] yeah, i mean (brief unintelligible mumble) it’s been, you know, five — i don’t know, five months since the surgery, so, it’s been a long time, but, i mean (shrugs) still, without an off-season it’s definitely (laughs) definitely — still, you still don’t feel great without an off-season, and trying to adapt, and then you’re trying to play catch-up, and then you’re trying to forget about the catching up, and try to focus on a new page, so — i’m happy that december’s been trending in the right direction, and i’ll try to turn the page going into the new year.