#i can see why people get die cut machines

[superoscars]

stickers

[phoenixkaptain]

I love Stardew Valley and I love the community and I love how we all bond over pixelated chickens like we’re seventy-year-old women bonding over grandchildren- - -

But I get so annoyed with the character hate, like!!! All the characters are great!! All the romance-able characters are great!! I keep getting recommended videos about the bad parts of characters and I just want to scream!!

Penny: lovely. Charming. Kids are a big part of dating her because she teaches kids, of course she’s going to react a bit badly if you hate children. She is trying to teach kids so that they don’t have to have the same life she and her mother do, why do you hate this woman who is just anxious?

Shane: lovely. Charming. Perfect. “He still drinks after we get married, which ruins the whole story” NO. No. Shane is an alcoholic, and a severe one. If he quit cold-turkey, he would fucking die. “Harvey pumped his stomach” HE WOULD DIE. And I don’t care that my husband is messy, he has his own room and I don’t have to go over there!!

Maru: lovely. Charming. She hates working. She loves working on machines. She thinks about machines to build for you to make life easier. She’s adorable. She has a complicated relationship with her brother and I want to help them fix it goddangit because I love fictional siblings.

Elliott: lovely. Charming. An artist. He only leaves his home for like four hours a day. I can really relate to the desire to shave off all of one’s own hair. I feel that in my bones. Also, is friends with Willy and I fucking love Willy so A++

Leah: “she’s a lesbian” She’s fucking bi stop erasing bi rep in Bi Rep the Video Game

Sam: he’s a musician and a skater. This is what the perfect man looks like.

Emily: just the most charming. She has a complicated relationship with her sister because she takes care of her. She works at a saloon, how can someone not love a literal saloon worker? She’s crazy, she’s wild, she’s a flower child, I’m in love with her

Harvey: glasses. Doctor man. Occasionally puts on headphones to not so subtly hint that he doesn’t want to talk to you. This is what the perfect man looks lik-

Abigail: I don’t see a lot of people complain about Abigal, but I’ve seen a few and it just feels like- you guys love Sebastian so much but don’t like Abigail? What type of double standard is this?

Alex: everyone always says not to date him if your playing a female farmer, but honestly, his dialogue only cuts out parts if you play male. Like, he still says he felt different about you from day one even if you’re playing as a girl. The character affected the most by your gender choice in regards to dating Alex is George, and if you’ve already befriended George, he’ll apologize for being mean about your sexuality when he never even said anything mean about your sexuality, which is kind of funny

I never see people complain about Haley or Sebastian, which is fair, because Haley has a cute character arc and Sebastian loves frogs (this is what the perfect man lo-) My only problem is that people praise these two but rag on everyone else when I feel like all the characters are balanced pretty evenly in terms of good-bad traits.

Which trait is which is dependent on the person playing the game anyway, so when someone like me plays, I can’t help but find the characters perfect because I’m very forgiving when it comes to fictional characters’ undesirable traits. I mean, my favourite trait of all is stupidity, pure and unbridled, I’m talking facepalm-inducing, groan-worthy, the type of character people complain about the most; the type of stupid that makes people stop enjoying things. How can I dislike these characters who are cute and a bit awkward and so ready to bed the first hot farmer they come across even when that farmer sifts through their trash and passes out three steps away from their own house and drinks mayonnaise and would eat hay given half the chance. Like come on. They’re all moron-sexual. I can relate to that.

In conclusion: your favourite bachelor and/or bachelorette is as wonderful as you think they are and screw the people who try to tell you otherwise. The characters are great because they appeal to different people. Enjoy the game and enjoy the dating and I swear to God if I see another person say that certain farm layouts are bad because they don’t make enough money- the game doesn’t have a time limit! You can make as much money as you want! You could sell one sap everyday and nothing else and you would still be able to make it to however much money you desire to have. There’s not really a fast way to make ten billion gold, that doesn’t mean that the farm layouts you don’t like are bad and yes I’m ranting just because I love the slopes of the mining farm its layout is chamrjng and picturesque and provides a unique challenge to decorating and placing buildings and it’s actually the BEST farm layout because I just decided so and-!

Stardew Valley is a great game, 10/10 would recommend, and the new update is already great because I found carrot seeds and I like carrots :)

[linkspooky]

You're boring. You don't thrill me at all.

I received a few asks about Sukuna's comments on Yuji and decided to make a post about it. To begin with one thing I have noticed about Sukuna is that despite being the embodiment of arrogance and selfishness he's sometimes gracious and even praises the opponents he's fighting.

The complexity of Sukuna is that he can rip the NanaMimiko twins into pieces for daring to ask too big a favor of him for only one finger, but he can also a few chapters later take time to praise Jogo before he dies. He can praise Gojo with touching words even when Gojo in his afterlife segment believes he failed tor each Sukuna. He can also slaughter thousand of people just to get Yuji's goat. He's capable of being somewhat honorable if you earn his respect, and yet there's nobody he respects less than Yuji.

In fact, the way he treats Jogo is a contrast to Gojo, Gojo just mocks him openly in his defeat. Sukuna gives Jogo advice that he should have fought for himself instead of teaming up with others, and then praises his efforts.

He slaughters both Hajime and Higuruma, but in their dying moments he also seems to grant them what they wanted. Hajime wanted an answer on whether or not it was possible for the strong to love other people, and Higuruma wanted to die fighting. Gojo was lonely at the top as the strongest and he lost all identity, Sukuna cuts him down and he dies as a human being and Sukuna praises him saying he'll remember his name forever.

Sukuna sees all humans as insects, but he seems to divide them into the ones that are tasty enough to eat, and the ones he wants to squash. If you're worthy in his eyes, he'll even entertain you and play with you for a little bit. That's not saying much, but Sukuna is known as the worst curse in existence. There are small moments though where he seems to have a sense of honor, at least to opponents who earn his respect or catch his interest.

All of this makes the way he treats Yuji stand out even more.

Sukuna says that basically all of humanity is his toy box and he can have endless fun playing with them until he dies, and yet Yuji is the one toy that Sukuna doesn't want to play with.

It's not because Yuji is weak, because Yuji has been shown to steadily grow in strength over the series. Yuji doesn't have the mental handicaps cutting off his true potential like Megumi does either, Gojo says right away that Yuji's crazy, that he swings for the fences, that he's obsessed with getting stronger. Yuji may not be on someone like Yuta's level, but he fights side by side with Maki perfectly in sync.

Yuji is even someone who will walk face first into Sukuna's cleave and then keep walking.

It's not because he's weak, it's not because he lacks potential or handicaps himself like Megumi, so why is Yuji the one opponent that Sukuna just cannot stand?

Much like Mahito who also sought to destroy Yuji, and felt like he couldn't be reborn or become himself until Yuji was out of the way it's most likely because they are ideological opposites. Down to the roles they play in their world, Yuji is someone who has completely repressed his own identity in order to become a true sorcerer, a cog in the machine, one among many fighting for a supposed greater good. Whereas, Sukuna alongside Mahito were what Yuji identified as "true curses". Mahito said as much in his monologue where he attempted to break Yuji, that he is a curse, and Yuji is a sorcerer. The point of curses is to kill humans, the point of sorcerers is to kill curses they don't need any deeper reason to fight and it's not a fight between heroes and villains it a cycle. Exorcise, consume. Exorcise consume. Curses are born, Sorcerers kill curses it goes on and on.

Looking at it that way, Mahito is Yuji and Yuji is Mahito. They're both cogs in the same endless cycle of curses vs humans. Yuji doesn't keep track of how many curses he's killed, and Mahito doesn't keep track of how many people he's killed.

Yuji is suppressing himself to become a sorcerer. Sorcerers are cogs and cogs have a function. He wants to carry the torch that Nanami gave him, because Nanami is basically the most ethical and model version of a sorcerer, and Yuji's only imagined role in things is to keep fighting until he dies and then ideally passes the torch to someone else. Sukuna was a strong sorcerer from 1,000 years ago who died and became a curse to linger on in this world. Yuji was a normal kid (or a science experiment from Kenjaku) who decided to eat Sukuna's finger and then become a sorcerer and die for a reason greater than himself.

Sukuna represents the ideology of curses, while Yuji represents the total collective ideology of sorcerers from the modern age.

Sukuna will ask his opponents their ideology, he'll even sometimes give advice and share his point of view. He questioned Jogo's beliefs on whether curses were the true humans. he shared with Hajime his thoughts on love to give him an answer to his question. However, he doesn't want even want to engage with Yuji, he just wants Yuji out of his sight.

He wants to invalidate and disprove Yuji's beliefs because they represent the opposite of him and everything he stands for, but he also knows he can't.

Sukuna does explain in this chapter that part of the reason he hates Yuji is that he's been forced to share a body with him for so long and was forced to endure his thoughts long enough to know that Yuji actually means what he says his selflessness is the real thing.

You could also argue that Yuji is a literal cage that Kenjaku constructed to contain Sukuna. Sukuna's entire character is built around the fact that he has so much strength he has the absolute freedom to do whatever he wants, and in a thousand years the only thing that's hindered his freedom is Yuji.

I think it goes a step beyond that though, one is selfishness incarnate, who is obsessed with freedom to Eren Jaeger extents and the other is selflessness incarnate, who deliberately chains himself to roles. Yuji is willing to give up his free will to be a cog in the machine, because cogs have a function, they have a role and meaning.

That's the extreme of selflessness though, you give up your very sense of self. Yuji builds his sense of self over the roles that others assign him, not anything he does himself. His function, his purpose, is given to him by others he doesn't define it for himself. Sukuna even mocks him for it in the latest chapter.

Yuji needs other people to give him meaning. Sukuna on the other hands rejects the notion of love because he's never needed and will never need anyone.

Sukuna is all about his overwhelming sense of self, whereas Yuji lacks a sense of self entirely. By Sukuna's logic where strength comes from asserting yourself and burning everything around you, Yuji is weak, Yuji should have been crushed like a bug by now, but Sukuna hasn't crushed him yet.

Sukuna is the ultimate ideal of strength in the story. The only way to be strong is to get rid of your attachments and become a human calamity like him. Yuji's selflessness on the other hand is something that he's continually punished for. Yuji even thinks of himself as weak he says as much to Higuruma, people died, Yuji was unable to stop Sukuna because he was weak.

Yet Sukuna cannot get rid of Yuji, which challenges Sukuna's black and white ideals that all that matters is strength and weakness and the strong always triumph over the weak and devour them.

To change the subject for a moment let's talk about Gege's inspirations. Can you guess who Gege's favorite Fate Character is? I bet you can't guess.

While Gilgamesh is the unequivocally strongest hero in the Fate franchise, there is one character who is the natural enemy and the perfect counter to Gilgamesh. That is Shirou Emiya, who actually defeats Gilgamesh in combat in one of the three routes, something both gilgamesh stans and Gilgamesh himself hates Shirou for.

Gee, I wonder what the inspiration is.

However, there's a particular reason why Shirou and Gilgamesh are opposites besides the fact that they have relatively the same ability, Shirou can copy swords and Gilgamesh has every weapon in existence in his armory.

Gilgamesh is the first and greatest of heroes who defined what it is to be a hero and the heroic legend. Shirou Emiya is a fake hero. That's even how Gilgamesh refers to him, "Faker." Shirou has completely destroyed his own sense of self in order to be of use to others, because he thinks he is not allowed to exist unless he is saving others in some way. This is a pretty brief summary of Shirou's character, but because of survivor's guilt Shirou forgot his past, and identity and thinks it's unfair he got saved while others didn't. At the same time, Shirou saw the happiness on the face of the man who admired him and then became obsessed with the idea of saving others. Shirou can only experience happiness when he saves someone, and feels pretty much nothing otherwise. Not only does he save people for entirely selfish reasons, because of his survivor's guilt and to give him a reason to exist, but it's also not his own dream of being a hero. He stole someone else's dream, that of his father Kiritsugu who wanted to be a hero and who saved him and looked happy saving him.

I read in an analysis a long time ago, too long for me to remember who's it was that Gilgamesh will respect those that have a dream. When he fights Iskander in Fate Zero, while he completely slaughters him he also gives him his props in his last moments and honors him by killing Iskander with his full strength, because he respected Alexander the Great's dream of conquering Europe from ocean to ocean.

Which is why he cannot tolerate someone like Shirou, who has no dream of his own, no reason for fighting, only saving others for the sake of saving them and asking nothing in return.

Shirou wants to repress himself entirely and become an ideal, the same way Yuji does, it's just Shirou wants to become the ideal superhero and Yuji wants to become the ideal sorcerer.

There's another video I want to reference to illustrate how little sense of self Yuji has, and how conversely reliant on others he is for that sense of self. The video is [here] I reccomend the whole thing but this quote summarizes it pretty perfectly.

Yuji is the main character of the story, but the series own villain, and even a vast majority of the fandom constantly insists that he is not the main character, because he is so lacking in a sense of self. That's not a knock against Yuji, that's the point of his character. Shirou Emiya is one of my favorite characters of all time, they're similiar it's just Shirou goes to greater lengths to show how hollowed out he is as a person, how deeply unhappy and even mentally ill he is to live for the sake of others the way that he does.

Yuji wants to crush his own sense of identiy and become an ideal like Shirou, that ideal being the ideal sorcerer. Whereas Sukuna is defined by his overwhelming sense of self and his lack of ideals.

It only makes sense that they'd be at odds with one another, but Sukuna takes things a step farther he cannot abide by Yuji's existence because he's against the idea of ideals themselves.

Sukuna wants to believe that he is right to reject idealism and love, that he is not missing out on anything as long as he has himself and is strong. So far in life he's been able to poke holes in the ideals of anyone who challenges him, but he's spent so long in Yuji's brain he knows that Yuji's ideals are not false.

Sukuna doesn't just want to crush Yuji's hopes he wants to prove himself right. This is probably the first time in a thousand years he's even paused to question himself or think over his own beliefs because he's been so unchallenged and right.

Yet, Sukuna can't be right, by the very nature of the manga.

Jujutsu Kaisen isn't about one person being right, it's about balance. The worst person you know in Jujutsu Kaisen can have a point. Kenjaku does everything for his own amusement, but both he and Tsukumo Yuki agree that things in the modern Jujutsu World can't stay the way they are. Geto is a genocidal maniac but he's right that it's unfair for Sorcerers, especially children to sacrifice themselves pointlessly over and over again and if Geto hadn't been a close friend of Gojo's and went off the deep end Gojo likely would have never seen the flaws present in his own society.

Jujutsu Kaisen isn't a story about binary opposites, but one of yin and yang, of complementary ideals. Even a character like Sukuna can't last forever with his binary thinking, and Yuji existing and disagreeing with him is clearly having an effect on him. Sukuna's been so thoroughly challenged by his inability to crush Yuji outright that he's changed his goals. A thousand years ago Sukuna laid waste to sorcerers yes, but he was fine just being worshipped and bribed and getting into fights in the country side. He didn't destroy the world or anything.

His frustration with Yuji has gotten him to the point that he's willing to go full omnicidal maniac in order to challenge Yuji's ideals. That is how out of balance Sukuna is currently.

The manga won't land on the side of Sukuna being right, it will land on the side of balance, which is exactly why Yuji needs to challenge Sukuna as his antithesis.

The true answer however, will probably not lie in Sukuna's utter selfishness, or Yuji's selflessness, but rather somewhere in between.

[reveluving]

I AM BACK AGAIN WITH MY HEAD IN HANDS AND HORNY BRUCE WAYNE ON MY MIND I NEED THAT MAN ABSOLUTELY INSANELY DESPERATE FOR BATMOM. SOMETHINNG ABOUT THE URGE.... DELICIOUS

BRB MICROWAVE NOISES ARE HAPPENING IN MY HEEEEAD 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

writing milf!Batmom was bound to happen at some point lol I was waiting for the day to finally happen fr fr SO HERE ❤

warnings: smut (18+ content, minors DNI!)

Look, with that many kids in the household, did you really think no one's going to talk about how sexy of a mother Mrs Wayne is?

Don't get me wrong, Bruce being called a DILF is not uncommon! Just look at him; a rich and respectable hunk of a man, who is also a father of six children and counting? So much hotter than when he was known as a playboy all those years ago. It was only natural for the public to talk about the missus in question as well.

Who could've possibly been the one to finally tame the Bruce Wayne and better yet, encouraged him into the married life?

You, obviously, and boy, did the public understand why.

No matter how much the media tries to deny it, they can never ignore your beauty, your grace, and dare I say, your MILF-ness.

C'mon, everyone's eyes were always on you the second you'd step foot into the gala. Oh, Mrs Wayne is here, in her new silky, silt-cut dress, matchint heels and jewellery that complements your every feature?

Sign me the fuck up!

You may have acknowledged the reputation bestowed upon you, but what you didn't realized was just how strong that power was.

But, of course, your reputation comes with a bit of a price to pay. Not by you, but by your children.

If there was one thing Dick, Jason and Tim were especially too familiar of hearing, especially on social media, it's about you, and the Internet can be very open with their thoughts. People are getting too comfortable on the app, as one would say.

While there was no denying that you were in fact beautiful, they were still your sons, and to see such language about you was almost as traumatic as seeing you and Bruce fooling around in bed.

• 'Mrs Wayne is so hot??? HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HER IN THOSE HEELS??? GYAT'

• 'I've seen her IRL when I was visiting her café and let me tell you; photos do NOT DO HER JUSTICE 🥵'

• 'If my future husband and I don't give Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne energy, I don't want it ☝🏼🤨'

• 'mrs wayne's thighs appreciation: a thread that will having you SCREAMING [includes 10+ photos]'

That last one in particular had an intimidating number of likes, mind you. As if their own set of fans weren't a lot to deal with already.

But hoho, if we're talking about Bruce Wayne's opinion on the matter?

Picture this.

It's like watching an edit of your favourites; going from a random video of you adorably scrunching up your nose to BAM—a slow-mo of you looking like a literal model. How or where anyone's ever gotten that footage from was uncertain, but if you asked Bruce if he's ever seen that video before?

Chances are, he'd say yes.

Repeatedly, even.

Hell, he might've saved it somewhere, amongst other 'tresures', for educational purposes.

He acknowledges the fact that you may be a teenage boy's fantasy, the dream trophy wife of many men, regardless if they were in their lonesome or in a tasteless marriage, but in the end of the day, you were his, just as he was yours.

And while he has the means to save your most intimate moments via his greatest machines, he actually prefers the good ol' polaroid. Saving at least a couple of boudoir photos in his pocket, wallet, the Batmobile, locked away in one of the Batcomputer's rack and much more. Whether they're photos of you lying on your stomach cross-legged in your lingerie, or even a picture of the two of you, glistening in sweat and naked in front of the mirror, he never ran short of his precious 'supplies', and he has more where that came from.

Knowing he was the only one able to not only see you, but make you writhe and scream and cum in his bed—in your bed, around his cock? He could die a happy man, truly. And he'll do just about anything you ask him to, no question?

Want his fingers inside you while he smothers his face in between your breasts? Certainly.

Want him to lie back so you can straddle his face and make you cum with that talented tongue of his? You don't have to tell him twice.

Want him to take your dress and lingerie off so slowly, even though his cock is aching to be touched by those sweet hands of yours? Say no more.

That man is always hungry for you, borderline desperate even, but what's new.

But, if it ever goes down to you, or when the public gets too comfortable voicing out, especially in front of you, and it clearly rubs you the wrong way, best believe he'll do something about.

He doesn't need the comments of others to know how sexy of a woman his wife really is, after all.

I wanted to write smut for this, considering it is a milf!batmom after all, but we all know how long it takes for me to do that HAHA I hope y'all still liked this one tho! Please don't forget to leave some sugar! ❤

[littledigits]

What is your take on the current animation industry and the way its heading for AI and job hiring? Ngl its looking a little bleak and I would love to hear your insight!

HOO. This is going to be a long one, but good question. Please keep in mind I am but one person with my one opinion.

I'm going to give you a little context to what was leading up to the job bust, the shit reality, and the hopeful conclusion.

Its always been a completive industry and unfortunately it will more-so for the next little while, even compared to when I graduated. The reality is, the animation industry GREW SO MUCH over the streaming services greenlighting projects to a point where I was like . WHERE ARE ALL THESE CARTOONS GOING. It felt like we went from nothing to a ton and was amazing that so much work was going around (looking back we see why it was too good to be true) A lot of schools and studios responded to this by growing as well. This means while it may recover, I dont see a way that it could reach the highs we had in the 2015-2021 period - because that wasn't representative of a sustainable model or a model they were planning on sticking with forever.

So the streaming bubble popped, and a lot of the reason why it popped was because streaming wasn't as lucrative when everyone joins in. This is the reality of working under the umbrella of Hollywood companies. Mergers happened, projects got pulled - and it probably wouldn't have seemed as big if we didn't have THE MOST JOBS EVER like, just a year before. It was a big rug pull. With the huge growth came a steep fall and all of it because of bad investments and choices of the people with the money. aka, we all wanted to chase someone elses idea thats making money for them and it didnt pay off - which leads me to AI.

While AI is scary and will do/is doing damage, it will not last forever. The industry only looks like its heading this way because the people who like AI are desperate to make it work, so they're pushing at it from all angles despite no AI company being profitable. ( once companies see that its not going to make them money they will drop it ) Its really nothing but a glorified pattern and predictive text machine that of course looks impressive when you feed it oodles of data. People who live on linked in and drink management courses like its water think that sort of shit is impressive, but they dont actually know how it works and just buy into the tech industry hype cycle . What we're seeing is them trying to make fetch happen, and it wont. (some useful bits will stay around but it doesnt 'think', a lot of this is just pure fakery)

You can trace a lot of things that lost jobs to bad investments from people higher up, who just jump around to different jobs when they make a mistake, or just simply get a bonus.

Its a symptom of the greater issue which is the monopoly of people in media and tech, which have been merging over the years with digital streaming. Lack of regulation in industries since the 80s has lead to a lot of the shit you see all around you, and it starts to be controlled by people who only want numbers goup. Overall , I think the animation industry in north America is entirely too controlled by the major studios and broadcasters, and that's going to be a tricky thing to navigate since they're very mask off about what their intentions are at this point. Its a growth-at-all-cost mindset that leads to things like AI, so while im confidant that what we see as 'ai' will die , we do have to realize as artists that as long as these people are in charge they will always try to find a way to cut the bottom line and not invest in the industry.

Its totally reasonable to feel bleak, but that's the intent. They want people to have to settle for less, and they want them to forget a time that it was better. Demoralization is part of the tactics, and 'starving' people out of jobs so they're easier to negotiate with is extremely common and pretty much what is happening right now. And this is exactly why you're seeing more union push from lots of industries because we're ALL being taken advantage of here. While it feels hopeless, this actually puts us much more in line with the artists and storytellers before us. They were up against the same people fighting the same fight, they were just called communists haha. Different words, same tactics, but the history of moments like this in the entertainment industry is more common then the shiny package we tend to grow up idolizing . ( its good to admire but we do often put these products up on a pedestal to our detriment )

The industry will survive, and it will change into something different which is GOOD. Because what it is right now, while workable and still full of things I enjoy - is NOT sustainable. And if we want to keep the skills of 2d animation, stop motion or any sort of creative trade to continue, we NEED sustainability. This is why collective action is so important, and so is diversity in the amounts of media we have! For example

YOUTUBE INDIE ANIMATION IS KICKING BROADCASTERS ASSES RIGHT NOW AND THEY NOTICE IT.

And while there are ups and downs regardless if you work in a small studio or a large one, I am hopeful that the conversations I've been seeing will spark change. Because as sucky as it is , compared to the rest of my time in the industry ( i think im on like 16 or 17 years now ) , I've never seen so much engagement or even discussion on the topic which says a lot. I think as artists we are always up for putting a lot of hard work into our skills, I think if enough of us point that passion into our community and collective action, we can start building an industry that does not have such a power imbalance, and that starts with community, education and engagement ! ( learning about the history of unions/animation/hollywood/workers rights,and then sharing that stuff! just through convo like this !) I hope this gives you some perspective, its something we're going to have to work at, but not something that is impossible. A lot of how the animation industry functions is not great, but what matters is that we work to make it better and the people who HAVE been doing that work are the ones that you want to find. They are the people with the proactive solutions to show you how to take power back. It helps fight the bleak feeling <3 tldr :

the solution is that as much as it sucks we try to make it better for those who come after us - and you can be involved in that job or not ! even just by supporting or being aware. This isnt animation is all careers, we're all effected by the same thing.

never forget.

[toomiieimagiines]

hi hi there! sooooo, how about some Tsukasa cuddling headcanons? Feel free to ignore if you’ve got better ones! Have a super awesome day! >:D

YOU ALL ARE A BUNCH OF DIRTY DIRTY TSUKASA LOVERS!! WHAT IS WITH HIM THAT YOU LOVE SO MUCH! ToT love a good cuddle hc…. was honestly excited to see it… (can we address how he dresses sometime? what a cutie pie…. honestly, i didn’t really favor kasa before i started writing for him!! he’s so darling!!!>_<) AND SORRY FOR THE MINI HIATUS!! life’s been kinda hard recently!! ^_^||| sorry for it being kinda short!

EDIT: i forgot to add tags like a scatterbrain…. -.- i hope people can still see this…

Tsukasa Tenma cuddling hc’s (+ more!)

Too hot to handle… (LITERALLY)

So so warm, an actual walking furnace, YET HES FREEZING!

“Honey, it’s so so cold please…” (whiny (HOW SURPRISING))

“‘Kasa, baby, I’m sweating…”

LOVES and I mean LOVES to cuddle

Who would believe me if I told them he’d pounce on you at any given opportunity? (OMG wuttt??? that’s soooo unlike him!!)

“Sweeetheart, I just miss you!”

“Honey, please when do I ever ask you for anything??”

Trust if he’s sick he makes it your problem too, like pls unsick me!!

Smells like shortbread

You honestly don’t know why because the only time he wears cologne is if he’s going somewhere fancy, and it’s never sweet

Maybe it’s Sakis weird love for baking, maybe it’s a little fairy who likes to sprinkle him with it while he sleeps, he doesn’t really know.

Favorite positions are ones where you’re facing eachother

Doesn’t really like spooning, he doesn’t find it as satisfying

ALSO VERY PARTIAL TO HIM LAYING HIS HEAD ON YOUR CHEST

He likes your heartbeat!!! Is that a crime?

Will genuinely NEVER let you get back up after

He will fight you… Its infuriating

WRAPS HIS ARMS SO TIGHT AROUND YOU, HES LIKE A TON OF BRICKS

Didn’t know I signed up for cuddling sheetmetal, thanks for the warning!

Honestly, he’s so boyfriend tho it’s insane…. like yes yes of course you’re my boyfriend!

AGHHHA HES SO CUTIEEE!!! i enjoy leaving these drabbles after my hcs!! it makes me feel like i actually did something! keep requesting, sorry if i haven’t gotten to yours yet!! there’s been so many! thank you so much!^w^

Rehearsal sucks, anyone who’s ever done anything knows it, and so does Tsukasa. He’s exhausted, and he knows the one thing that’ll recharge him.

You.

He sends you a text akin to “please let me come over before I die and it’ll be your fault”, and who could say no to that!? That’s how you ended up with a mildly sweaty Tsukasa laying on top of your previously perfectly made bed…

“You’re too warm! I can lay with you, but this is ridiculous!” You squirm, trying to pry the boy off of you. When did he get so heavy?! It’s like a bag of bricks is holding you down!

“Please sweetheart, when do I ever ask you for anything?!” He whines, wrapping his arms even tighter around you.

“Five minutes ago you asked me to scratch your back, you asked me for a drink from the vending machine because you didn’t wanna get your wallet-“

“Never mind!” He cuts you off, covering your mouth. “It’s the last time, I swear! I promise that I won’t ever again!-”

You look up at him, unimpressed.

“For the..” he looks away dejectedly, taking his hand off your mouth, “rest of the time I’m here…”

You snicker at his sudden sheepishness, “what happened to the passion, ‘Kasa?” Your fingers run through his blonde hair, twisting it around your fingers.

“You put the fire out… If you could see my eyes right now, you’d see they’re gray and dull….”

You smack his head playfully, “don’t bite the hands that scratch your back.”

He just sighs, burying his head deeper into your neck. He’s warm, REALLY warm, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind anymore. It really is times like these that make you appreciate him the most. He’s not performing, he’s not playing, he’s just kinda there, and you’re kinda there too. Everything can be so much, but life feels mundane and boring when you two are like this - in a good way! It feels domestic.

“I love you, Tsukasa. Y’know that?” You lift his head up, looking into his eyes. Damnit, he’s looks kinda sweet. It almost makes you feel bad for teasing him… Almost.

He leans into the touch, eyes closing again. His voice is uncharacteristically soft when he replies, “I do. I love you too, a lot.”

A beat passes,

“I’m aloud to fall asleep, right?”

“Tsukasa!”

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: The crossover continues! Last chapter of the year I think, so happy holidays and you'll hear from me soon! P.S. Hermione Granger isn’t the perfect, well-behaved goody-two-shoes everyone makes her out to be and I will die on that hill!

Leave a like and comment when you reach the end :)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Twelve ~ A Revelation

Mail came on Monday morning, owls flying overhead dropping parcels and letters on people’s laps. Mortis stood out, as always, with his vast wingspan and long neck. Most of Slytherin House were getting used to his presence, some barely even flinched when a woosh of air knocked passed their heads, but thankfully there were still a few who startled at the sight enough to screech. It certainly boosted his ego.

(Y/N) was sat adjusting the clips in her hair when he landed on the table, dropping a small package on her plate of eggs and toast, then hunching over the table to stare menacingly at a third year nearby with a plate full of bacon and bread. She smirked as the boy whimpered at the eye-contact, holding out his sandwich with a shakey hand and trying not to scream when the vulture snatched it from his grasp.

“He’s not havin’ much,” Saoirse commented, eating a poptart from the pack her parents had sent.

Holding up the parcel, (Y/N) noticed some red smudges on the package and nodded. “I can see why.” She said, taking a knife from the table to cut the string holding the letter onto the box, showing Saoirse the stained brown paper. “He already ate.”

As usual, the envelope was charcoal with shining black wax displaying the Addams crest. With the table knife firmly in her grasp, (Y/N) sliced open the top with ease, taking out the pages to read.

She’d sent her letter on the Saturday afternoon, eager to re-tell the events of the Quidditch match, knowing her family would be interested. She hadn’t expected a reply so soon, but was glad for it all the same. This time, (Y/N) recognised her mother’s neat, swirling penmanship on the pages.

Dear (Y/N),

Thank you for the photographs – Quidditch seems absolutely marvellous. We are delighted that you had such a nice time, & Pugsley is more eager than ever to learn to fly a broom, perhaps you can teach him what you have learnt in your lessons when you return. We are so very pleased that you have made a new acquaintance, what a good influence she seems – setting fire to a teacher. We should have to meet her.

Wednesday apologises for not being able to write to you this week, but she & Pugsley were playing in the kitchen and she burnt her fingers on Grandmama’s cauldron. Though she cannot write with it, she is rather disappointed that she will have no scarring to show for it.

I hope you have been doing well with your studies & your own ambitions; your father reminds you that he will be testing your sword skills when you return in December, & Wednesday will be very disappointed if you will not be of enough challenge (in her own words, of course, darling).

We hope you enjoy your gift for this week – darling, if you had told us sooner that there was no coffee at Hogwarts we would have sent you some ages ago. How dreadful for you. I have no doubt you’ll savour it now, & do tell us when you run out next time.

Your father & I are missing you torturously, the house feels so different in your absence. We simply cannot wait to see you again.

Have a wonderful time, & do tell us of any trouble you make. Reply soon.

With love and pain,

Your mother & family. X

(Y/N) smiled at the letter as she placed it back into the envelope, then quickly began opening the small box before her. The smell of ground coffee wafted through the air as she pulled the bag out; it was strong and of good quality, but most importantly it was the instant kind; hot water was far easier to get than a coffee machine, after all. And to the side of the bag, she was pleased to find a new mug to pair with it, a polished black skin and deep red interior, a red cat’s eye decorating the front. Immediately she began looking for a teapot and sugar to put in her mug, excited to have her first coffee in months. “How long do we have until we have to be in class?” She asked to whoever would answer.

Bridget, who was sat two seats away, leaned over to answer. “Fifteen minutes,” she said, downing the rest of her pumpkin juice and reaching for her bag.

(Y/N) nodded and began mixing three spoons of coffee into the hot water she’d managed – luckily the pot had just enough left for one cup. “I guess I’ll just bring this with me then.”

The girls rushed through the chilly stone hallways towards the Transfiguration classroom, (Y/N) grasping her mug with both hands like it was the most dear thing in the world, ignoring Saoirse’s whispered giggles as she chanted ‘my precious’ over her shoulder (which Bridget didn't understand at all).

Professor McGonagall was writing on the chalkboard as they entered the classroom and took their seats, talking amongst themselves. (Y/N) spotted Hermione already sat down and waved, pleased to see the girl wave back. “Miss Addams,” McGonagall addressed her calmly, drawing a few eyes her way, “I do remember telling you all that beverages are not allowed in my classroom.” She reminded with a raised brow.

(Y/N) hesitated in her seat, then let out a deep, tortured sigh and quickly drank the last five gulps and slipped the empty mug into her bag, wishing she could have savoured it a little longer and not scalded her mouth.

(Y/N) was starting on the B’s in the Divination section of the library, piling up any books that could be useful before joining Saoirse and Rahim at a table. They had become a sort of study group, helping each other with their work. Rahim slowly started to become more comfortable around (Y/N), now that he knew she wasn’t evil or insane like some of the earlier rumours suggested. He was good at DADA and Charms, found History of Magic painfully boring, and occasionally made a joke or comment dark enough to earn a snicker from her. And he was always telling Saoirse some new and interesting fact he’d read about when he was supposed to be focusing on a different subject.

As December drew nearer, teachers had started handing out more and more homework before the holidays, and the library was always full because of it; no one wanted to fall behind and have to take any of it home.

So far, (Y/N) was enjoying most of her subjects for this term – they were all so much more interesting than anything she would have learned in a plain muggle secondary school. Herbology was proving to be incredibly interesting, all of those dangerous plants waiting to bite your hand off or poison your lungs. Perhaps she could snatch a seed or two to give her mother for Yule, a Venemous Tentacular would look spectacular in the greenhouse.

She hadn’t expected to be given written homework for flying class, though. But she supposed it made sense; brooms were a mode of transportation, after all. She had to write about the different manoeuvrers they’d learned, and how to perform them, the different positions in Quidditch, and a whole list of the rules. It was a lot of work, but if (Y/N) wanted to get a broom for her birthday she would have to do well in class.

It was just a little difficult to focus enough to get things done when her mind was set on other things.

Tapping her quill on her parchment, (Y/N) let out a sigh and rolled her neck, hearing Saoirse and Rahim talking about Charms in the background. She was just about to give up on her final paragraph when she saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair pass down the bookcase to her left. “Hermione.” She voiced, half a whisper and half a shout, seeing the girl turn around and peak her head out from the corner.

The Gryffindor approached her desk, smiling shyly with some books clutched to her chest. “Hello,” she said, looking to (Y/N)’s friends.

“Would you like to sit with us?” (Y/N) asked – if she was going to start having friends she might as well commit (she’d never had many before, so what was there to lose?). She gestured to the seat in front of her, beside Rahim who smiled at her.

“Oh,” Hermione blushed, looking a little caught off guard, “really?”

“Sure ya can,” Saoirse agreed with a grin, “we’re just studyin’.”

Hermione nodded and sat down next to the Ravenclaw, blushing at all the attention. It was then that (Y/N) figured Hermione didn’t have a lot of friends, she seemed so taken aback by the offer and flustered by the eyes on her, and like she didn’t quite know what to say. “This is Rahim and my roommate Saoirse,” she introduced, glad that Hermione was settling herself as she repeated her name back.

“We’re just working on the Charms homework,” said Rahim, letting his hair fall into his eyes – a nervous habit (Y/N) had noticed, “have you done it yet?”

Hermione nodded and pulled on her sleeve. “I was working on it earlier, but it got a bit busy in my common room so… I came here.” She nervously answered, adjusting her red and gold tie.

“None of your friends worked on it yet?” Saoirse asked innocently as she fiddled with the wrapping of a lollipop, offering one to Hermione.

Shaking her head, the brunette seemed to flush again. “No, erm, I don’t mind studying with them, but they always ask me to read over it for them and I’m starting to figure out that it’s how they make sure they’re getting the right answers.” She explained with the corner of a smile. “I just tend to work faster on my own, is all.” Then her eyes widened as she stumbled to correct herself. “N-not that I don’t want to sit with you! I do – I just meant--”

“It’s alright,” (Y/N) interrupted, dipping her black quill into her ink and continuing to write, “we get it. You can sit here whenever.” She said, looking to the others for confirmation, who nodded in agreement.

“Oh, okay.” Hermione let out a breath, taking out her own writing supplies with a more genuine smile. “Thank you.”

The four of them continued on their homeworks, occasionally asking for an answer or opinion, or starting a discussion about a relevant topic. Hermione started to come out of her shell some more, chatting nicely with the group. Before (Y/N) knew it, she was completing her last essay and finally opening one of the Divination books she’s chosen to skim: Answers in the Remains: A Study in Bone-Throwing by Matilda Marrowe.

“That’s an interesting choice,” Hermione commented, pointing to the cover with the end of her quill, “we don’t get to study Divination until Third Year, though.” She said, obviously curious about the reason for her read.

(Y/N) hesitated her answer, unsure of what to say and what to leave out. She had been keeping this whole Contact a secret, even from her family – even from Wednesday – but then again, so far she’d come up with nothing, maybe she could use some… input.

Glancing at her other two friends, seeing them distracted by an in-depth discussion on Animagi, (Y/N) decided it wouldn’t be so bad to reveal a little. “I’m… looking for something,” she began, “but I don’t know where to look, so I’m looking for some clues to give me… I don’t know, some sort of a start.”

Hermione frowned in thought, tapping her finger on her book. “Well, what are you looking for exactly?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I’m not sure.” But she realised that her vague answers weren’t getting her any help, so she relented and leaned in close. “On Hallowe’en, I performed a séance,” she whispered, ignoring how Hermione’s eyes widened in fear, “I was supposed to make Contact with my grandparents, but I accidentally spoke to someone else.” She explained, hearing Hermione gasp. “They told me to find something, but they faded away before they could tell me what.”

Hermione seemed to ponder this for a moment, looking weary but interested nonetheless. “So, you want to figure out what the Message could mean?” She asked, biting her lip when (Y/N) simply shrugged in frustration. “Well… have you tried to… you know, get back in touch?”

(Y/N) grimaced. “Well, no. But it will be more difficult now that Hallowe’en has passed and the Veil is stronger; it was hard enough to keep a Connection before as it was. I don’t have enough experience to do it safely.”

“Well, isn’t there something else you can do? Maybe anything in the Message you could look into some more?” Hermione asked.

(Y/N) gave Hermione a suspicious look, fiddling with the pages of her notebook. “You don’t seemed to be freaked out by this.” She said bluntly, leaving an open question hanging.

“Well, as far as magic goes, I suppose séances aren’t that bad,” she said surprisingly, “there’s some old ladies down my street who do them, not that I ever thought they were really doing much. I’m sure they just have an Ouija board and talk in silly voices.”

(Y/N) laughed then, nodding at her new friend. Yes, her parents would certainly like this one. “Aren’t you full of surprises – first degree arson and now an enabler of amateur Dark Magic. Not such the teacher’s pet after all.” She grinned, making Hermione laugh and shush her.

Despite being only a year younger than (Y/N), Wednesday often seemed to have wisdom beyond her years. She was very well-read, took pride in her knowledge, and enjoyed a good mystery. For these reasons, (Y/N) knew she was her best option for advice on this little paranormal problem. Of course, it helped that she was the one person (Y/N) knew she could always be honest with.

Which was exactly why she was writing to her now.

Dear Wednesday,

I know you’ve burnt your hand and are unable to write, but please respond as soon as you are able. Something rather strange has happened and I’m not sure what to make of it, but trying to work it all out on my own has been too difficult.

Glancing to the opening journal on her desk and the scattered sketches laid over the black pages, (Y/N) twirled her quill and decided how exactly to phrase what she wanted to write.

First, please do not repeat any of this to a single soul – this is strictly our secret – not even our parents can know.

When I wrote home after Hallowe’en, I said that I had failed to Connect with our grandparents, which is true, but what I didn’t write is that I accidentally made a Connection with someone – or something – else.

(Y/N) recounted the entire evening in her letter, describing the Visions she’d had in as great details as she could. Everything from the noise she’d heard in the Dungeons to the weakness she’d felt after the séance.

She wasn’t really sure what Wednesday could do to help, or what advice she may give, but (Y/N) realised she was hitting a wall in this maze of questions. Who better to trust?

Please reply as soon as you can, anything you can give me at this point I’m sure will help.

Awaiting your reply,

(Y/N)

Sealing the letter with the red wax from her candle, (Y/N) stamped it closed and sat back, studying her sketched out Visions again. Where to begin? The charcoal figure reaching out in the dark mocked her, like it was asking ‘why can’t you figure it out?’ every time she looked at it.

The air was bitterly cold outside, but the chill clung to her comfortably. There was an old tree near the edge of the Forbidden Forest that (Y/N) had set her eye on. A tall, old holly tree with a wide trunk and sharp leaves; its red berries were plump and poisonous, a beautiful thing. A raven sat perched on one of the branches, staring down at her with watchful dark eyes, unbothered by her presence.

She was in need of the alone time, and getting out of the castle for a while would do her some good. There wasn’t anywhere close by to practice her sword skills, and she wasn’t sure if her weapon would be confiscated. The séance was one thing, but Wednesday would certainly have comments if she returned home and her swordsmanship skills had declined.

Lunging forward, (Y/N) swung her rapier from the left, slicing the bark of the twisting tree trunk as it hit. She spun in the other direction and swung out her blade again, hitting the wood with practiced accuracy. The skirt of her black coat swished out with each movement, buttoned up out of the way.

It was therapeutic, in a way, a way to take out her frustrations. The repetitive motion of hitting her target and her smooth footwork soon tamed her anger. Why couldn’t this spirit just tell her what to do? Why should she have to do it all herself? What would happen if she simply ignored the whole thing and did nothing?

Nothing good, her intuition told her. If someone had contacted her from the Beyond with a Message, ignoring it would almost certainly anger them, and who knows what may happen then?

The first snow of the season was starting to settle, a thin layer of white coating the ground, but beneath the forest trees (Y/N) was sheltered from it. It was nice; snow always brought such deep silence, a peace like no other. It was exactly the calm she needed.

What she didn’t need was an interruption.

The forest was so cloaked in silence that even the smallest snap of a twig sounded much louder than it was; (Y/N) whipped around immediately, rapier flying out in her outstretched hand.

“Merlin’s pants!” Cried the person standing at the other end of her blade, the sharp point just inches from their nose.

(Y/N) lowered her weapon and scowled. “What are you doing here?”

The boy frowned back and tightened his green scarf around his neck, still eyeing the sword warily, as if she was going to lift it up and slice at his face (he pondered that she probably would if he pushed her buttons too much). “I should ask you the same thing.” Malfoy replied, wondering how she’d managed to sneak a weapon like that into the school.

“I asked first.” (Y/N) said, gripping the hilt in her dominant hand in frustration.

Malfoy scoffed. “I’m not answering until you do.”

The nerve of this boy, (Y/N) thought. First he interrupts her peaceful afternoon in the forest, where she was supposed to be alone and away from prying eyes like his – and then he tries to bargain an explanation from her with the argument of a child!

Well, they were actually children… but the poor argument was still beneath him.

Sighing in frustration, (Y/N) relented; too tired to play his stupid games. “I’m practising.” She answered with a glare.

“Practising what?”

“Oh I’m golfing- what do you think?” She spat sarcastically, waving her blade at her side to draw his eye to it. “Now, why are you here?” She repeated in annoyance as she sheathed her sword, not feeling much like striking the tree in his judgemental presence.

He shrugged, toeing his shoe in the damp earth. “Just walking, felt like doing something I’m not supposed to.”

It probably shouldn’t have, but the answer surprised her; Draco Malfoy didn’t seem like the type to risk getting into trouble just for the sake of it. Then again, she didn’t know him very well.

The Forbidden Forest was completely out of bounds to unsupervised students, with the exception of the Care for Magical Creatures clearing just at the edge of the woods – even the faculty was advised against lone entry, for the many dangers that lurked in its endless shadows. It was exactly why it made for such a nice walk when in need of some space; so perhaps they were there for much the same reasons.

“How’d you sneak that in?” Malfoy asked after a stretch of silence, leaning against the birch tree beside him.

(Y/N) glanced down at the simple black sheath that hung at her hip and rolled her eyes. “Everyone at this school is carrying around what is potentially the most harmful weapon in existence and you’re worried about a sharp peace of metal?”

The boy’s brows furrowed as he seemed to contemplate it. “I didn’t think of it like that…”

“Of course you didn’t.” She said, it was obvious to her so far that a lot of purebloods her age hadn’t considered much of anything regarding comparisons between magic and non-magic things.

Malfoy scowled at her, though the effect was dampened by his pink nose and cheeks. He didn’t seem to have much to say in return, only moving to pull his scarf tighter around his neck to keep the chill off of his skin.

She hated that he was here; out of all of the people at Hogwarts who could have disturbed her afternoon, why did it have to be this stupid, arrogant pureblood? Honestly, she would rather have been caught by Snape. But, instead of allowing his presence to punish her and sour the atmosphere, (Y/N) decided to ignore him completely. Just because he was there, it doesn’t mean she had to talk to him, does it?

Turning her back on the boy, (Y/N) unsheathed her rapier with her head held high, listening to the sharp ssssssht that rang out as the blade glided out of its casing. She could feel his eyes on her, but refused to acknowledge him still. For a few blissful minutes, (Y/N) was able to continue her practise uninterrupted, focusing on nothing but her footwork and wrist-movements. But then Malfoy had to go and open his mouth again.

“Why do you do that?” He asked from his spot against the birch tree. She couldn’t quite tell if his tone was condescending or curious; so she decided to assume the former.

“Do what?” She replied as she lunged forward toward the holly tree, focusing on her posture.

“It seems like a pretty useless skill to me.” Said Malfoy – did everything that came out of his mouth have to be irritating?

(Y/N) huffed and gritted her teeth, slicing the bark in front of her at a forty-five degree angle and wishing it was his face. “Shows what you know. But it’s a very sophisticated sport, so I don’t expect you to understand.” She withheld a smirk. There was only one good thing about Draco Malfoy: it was so easy to get under his skin.

Malfoy bristled and stood straight, a frustrated noise escaping him. “What would you know about sophisticated sports? I play Quidditch, you know! I’m going to be on next year’s team!” He argued, his face flushing from pink to red as he pointed a finger at her.

She barely paid attention to him, knowing it would only annoy him more (oh she certainly took pleasure in annoying him). “Sure, Quidditch is a boastful sport, but that’s hardly going to be useful.” (Y/N) said, flicking her braid over her shoulder and pulling her black sleeves back over her wrists before she continued her graceful movements, her blade slicing through the air. “We Addams’ take pride in our mastery of weapons – it’s how we show our capability to protect our family. How are you going to help anyone with Quidditch? Throw a ball at the enemy?”

Malfoy was the very picture of angry; face flushed, hands curled into fists, stance stiff and upright – it was laughable, really. “No – I’m a Seeker.”

“Oh, so even less helpful, then.” (Y/N) smirked, spinning her sword at her side. “At least you can fly away.”

“I bet I can fly faster than you!” He retorted, scrambling for a victory in this losing battle of verbal chess. “How about it? I’ll race you to… to the top of Hogwarts!” Malfoy dared, pointing a gloved finger to the castle peaking through the trees.

(Y/N) glanced behind her to the pointed towers in the near distance, folding her arms. “No.”

“Because you don’t think you can?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Malfoy laughed condescendingly. “You’re just scared.”

She glowered at him darkly, gritting her teeth. “I don’t get scared. I just have better things to do than waste my time on stupid bets.” She said, turning her back on him and deciding to head back to the school. But she still had one last blow to deliver, just to really get on his nerves. “Besides, you already lost the last bet you made on a broom – Harry Potter really owes you one, you got him noticed.”

Now that really ought to piss him off.

Taking the snow-dusted path through the forest, (Y/N) allowed herself a wicked smile at the sound of Malfoy’s anger as he groaned and kicked at the ground in frustration. He was awfully fun to toy with.

As she emerged through the trees, checking for any people nearby who could report her whereabouts, (Y/N) looked up at Hogwarts as she considered the boy’s bet; how difficult would it be to fly all the way to the top? It was certainly very high, a gradual ascent seemed like the best option, but the many towers and features of the architecture would prove to be obstacles. It was then, as she was walking down the hill, that (Y/N) noticed two things. The first was that two large towers very close to each other were almost identical. The second: they looked exactly like the snow-covered tower in her Visions from Beyond.

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[juliakeyoto]

You ever think about how Edelgard is just objectively right.

Like, cut out all the war stuff, cut out all the war crime debates, let’s cut to the heart of it: nobility and the crest system. Units that are affected by their crest/being a noble/not being a noble/church stuff:

Ingrid (being passed around to get married due to her crest/her being a woman)

Sylvain (automatically assumes people will only love him for his crest, so he acts like a flirt and hates women)

Leonie (is unironically in debt so she could get a higher education)

Dorothea (I made a rant about this earlier, but she was kicked cast away by her noble dad, and had to do unsavory acts for a chance at her own future)

Felix (is an asshole cause his dad basically slapped him in the face when his brother died over his “knightly and noble” views of how Glenn died)

Bernadetta (is abused by her dad to “become the perfect wife)

Lysithia (is literally dying because of her second crest, which she has due to being used as a test dummy to see if it would even work, leading to all her sibling dying)

Edelgard ( same as above, but worse cause she’s being used as a weapon with barely any way out)

Ashe (his adopted older brother was scapegoated by the church, and when his adopted father looked for Justice he was killed)

Marianne (is literally SUICIDAL because her crest simply has rumors, is harassed by people when they find out)

Caspar (basically has nothing waiting for him at home unless he makes a name out for himself)

Mercedes (has to leave her house due to her dad wanting to make crest babies with her)

Jeritza (went insane or some form of insanity due to the above situation)

Yuri (was used by nobles due to his looks)

Constance (house fell apart since they supported House Hresvelg during the insurrection, so no help came during the Brigid offensive)

Hanneman (his sister was basically made into a baby machine for a cruel, uncaring noble, which lead Hanneman to leave his position)

Mikklan (was cast aside for no crest)

And these are just named characters. How many nameless faces met these same fates? How many died due to some noble scuffle? How many women were used and abused for children? How many died homeless while Nobles counted stacks of gold? When does it end?

And what does the church do? It makes a falling apart, underground “haven” called Abyss. I know any port in a storm, but if the church can afford 5000g a month for teachers that are doing well, they can cough up more money for Abyss. Or is that money better spent on Rhea’s private army, that can execute innocent people like Christophe? Is it better spent on the golden statues of the saints, in the already pristine church that is in the monastery? Is it better spent spreading Rhea’s lies about crests being given from the goddess, leading to people believing they need them to be successful in life? Rhea herself has twisted history and split nations, so she is obviously not corrupt at all. Regardless of her reasons why, her systems and regulations have caused thousands, if not millions to suffer.

So while you’re eating ice cream in Garreg Mach, the church preaches the goddess’s love, while thousands probably die daily due to the system the church supports.

[vcendent]

art vs industry

Sometimes I'm having a good day, but then sometimes I think about how industry is actively killing creative fields and that goes away. People no longer go to woodworkers for tables and chairs and cabinets, but instead pick from one of hundreds of mass-produced designs made out of cheap particle board instead of paying a carpenter for furniture that is both made to last generations and leaves room for customization. With the growth of population and international trade, the convenience and low production costs are beneficial in some aspects, but how many local craftsmen across the world were put out of business? How many people witnessed their craft die before their eyes? There is no heart or identity put into mass produced items; be it furniture, ceramics, metalwork, or home decor; and at the end of the day everybody ends up with the same, carbon copy stuff in their homes.

I'm a big fan of animated movies, and I see this same thing happening too. When was the last time western audiences saw a new 2D animated movie hit theatres? I can't speak for other countries, but, at least in America, I believe The Princess and the Frog was the last major 2D movie released and that was back in 2009. Major studios nowadays are unwilling to spend the time and money that it would take to pay traditional animators who have spent years honing their craft to go frame by frame, and to pay painters to create scene backgrounds. We talk a lot about machines replacing jobs, but when the machines come, artistry professions are some of the first to be axed (in part because industry does not see artistry as "valuable" professions). Art, music, and writing are no longer seen as "real" jobs because they belong to the creative field and there's this inane idea that anyone who goes into those fields will be unsuccessful and starving. I'm not saying that 3D animation is bad, it has its own merits and required skills and can be just as impressive as anything 2D, but it has smothered 2D animation and reduced it largely to studios that cannot afford the tech to animate 3D.

And now we have this whole AI thing to deal with, stealing existing artists' work to "train" it to take over those few professions that, until now, required actual people to do them. Internet artists have already been dealing with people complaining about the price of art for years and now have to face their work being stolen to train AI. With AI technology, anyone who undervalues the work of the artist can now get something generated at little or no cost to them, all at the expense of the artists themselves. Why would studios pay script writers when they could just get an algorithm to do it without pay? Why pay actors to bring characters to life or pay models to pose for ads when CGI has progressed enough we could digitally render humans and cut out having to pay people entirely? Why use practical effects or film on location when green screens and adding in-post is faster and so much cheaper? It's no wonder we had the SAG-AFTRA strike. AI has already been trained to write children's books and produce music, continuing down this road will replace authors and musicians too at the convenience of cost. How much longer until the actual, real-life people behind all forms of artistry become completely obsolete?

Industry is just driving the cost of people-made crafts up and up with every mass produced product and every streamlined shortcut to reduce costs, which only makes it harder and harder for artists of all kinds to make a living, as very few people want to pay for the time and skill of artists when they could just pick something off a shelf or feed AI a prompt and get something satisfactory enough, yet not what they actually wanted, for so much cheaper.

[digital999placebo]

back on my usual shit. Tormenting the one I love. A lidl fanfic snippet beneath cut hehehe (a convo between Gilbert and Roderich on the topic of Germany)

[Somewhere in Continental Europe, 1870]

“You can’t be serious about raising him on your own,” Roderich spits acid, “You have no experience or qualifications outside of war, let me do it.”

“If I can manage an army of men, I believe I’m capable of caring for one child.”

“Children are not trained men, Gilbert.”

“You’re the last person I want to be lectured by on this,” Gilbert cuts in and adjusts his position in the chair. “I mean no offence, Roderich, but I rather have Feliciano beneath me than beside me.”

Roderich makes a strangled sound and opens his mouth to retort that Feliciano is perfectly well-adjusted when Gilbert continues.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt your efficiency in raising regular children. You could turn a stuttering fool into a credentialed politician and a tone-deaf cripple to the most renowned pianist. You and your country have a culture that mine does not. Your understanding of music is something I couldn’t even dream of achieving, but what you lack is the ability to admire a well-oiled machine. I want Ludwig to not only be a force to be reckoned with within the political spectrum, I also want him unbeatable on the field. I want people terrified at the mere mention he’s coming… And that is nothing you can provide.”

Roderich nearly laughs at Gilbert’s delusion. The nation before him couldn’t seriously believe that Ludwig, a wiry and mutilated little thing, a walking blasphemy against God and Mother Nature herself, covered in sutures and wrapped in bandages that needed to be changed daily, was going to become anything but what he was created of, dead tissue. He searches Gilbert’s face for a trace of self-awareness and is horrified when he doesn’t find it.

“That– Ludwig won’t even survive that long,” Roderich manages to get out, quiet, angry, and small. He can’t help how his voice shakes and rises. He’s furious, but can’t say why, perhaps because he feels bad for the little thing Gilbert has created, so frail yet already carrying the weight of Gilbert’s expectations, he’s angry because he knows better and he doesn’t know how to make Gilbert understand that. “He’s blind and mute; incapable of even feeding or relieving himself despite his age. You haven’t created a machine, you haven’t even created a person, you’ve created a thing whose only purpose is to suffer a slow death.”

Gilbert’s mouth tightens and he drums an impatient finger against the chair’s armrest, “You’re underestimating him.”

“I’m realistic, one of us has to be. That thing is suffering every day,” Roderich begs. “It’s sadistic.”

Gilbert hits the armrest with his fist and Roderich reels back.

“Don’t call him that! He’s not a thing, he’s the future of Europe,” Gilbert sneers at him, all composure finally lost, “You sit here and speak as though he were to die any day now, yet you beg me to resign him to your care?” –Gilbert wrinkles his nose in disdain– “I can see why Feliciano turned out the way he did, you have no perseverance, no dignity or strength, giving Ludwig to you would be to cut his throat. You’ve never struggled in a way that matters, nothing worth having is easily attainable. Ludwig will be great.”

Roderich trembles with withheld fury and he curls his lips to match Gilbert’s crude sneer.

“Fine,” he spits, “If that thing makes it at all.”

[bitchyfoxymama]

Angel - Pietro Maximoff x F!Powered!Reader

Warnings: fix it fic where Pietro doesn't die at the end of Age of Ultron! Medical jargon is probably incorrect.

A/n: Anyway this is for a friend of mine who asked where Wanda's brother's fics were and why I haven't written any. Heres to you 🫡

All grammatical errors are my own bc I don't have beta readers.

...

“Male, Caucasian, approximately 22-24 years of age, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, abdomen and arms. His breathing is labored and blood pressure low.” One of my nurses says as we wheel this unknown man into the O.R.

“Alright! We need gauze, bowls and scalpels and blood! GO! GO! GO!” I yell at my team trying to save this young man’s life. I may be only 20 and one of the youngest surgeons in the world but my team knows I care about them and only yell when it’s something crucial.

“Here ma’am, everything you need.” Maria, my head nurse tells me while I walk into the room gloved and masked.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, we are going to save this man’s life.” I say looking around the sterile room.

*6 hours later*

“Alright we did it, great job guys. Move him over to an empty recovery room and let them know their friend is fine.” I say walking out. I go and stand near the coffee machine and buy myself a cup.

“So Doc, how's the kid?” I look up and see an old friend.

“Well, Stark, how many times have I told you not to call me Doc? Reminds me of Bugs Bunny, and he’s doing fine. We managed to save him, just barely. He lost a lot of blood, had multiple breaks, what the hell were you guys fighting?!”

“Uh robots, and besides if you had come along with us like I keep suggesting and using those wonderful powers you have-“ I cut him off before he can even finish his thought.

“Stark I’ve told you before, I’m not properly trained for combat, I’m just a doctor, and I’ll tell you what I’ll go and heal all his wounds right now, that way you’ll have him back.” I say sipping the black hot liquid.

“And I told you (y/n) there’s more out there than just shitty coffee and white walls. Listen I'll pitch the idea to Fury to have you move to the compound and become an avenger, you could help a whole lot more people if you agreed” He says as he walks back down the hallway and out the door.

I threw the cup of coffee away and walked into Pietro’s room. I learned of his name after the operation. He honestly looks very peaceful just lying there sleeping. I go and close the blinds and shut and lock the door. I don't need anyone not authorized to know about my powers to come stumbling in the room.

I take off my glove and remove his blanket from his chest; I take a deep breath and lay my hands on his chest. A white light filling up the room along with the slight hum of the machines connected to him.

When I finish he begins to slowly open his eyes. “Is that an Angel I see? A beautiful angel?”

I blush slightly “No Mr. Maximoff, I can assure you that I am no Angel. I am your Doctor; my name is (y/n) (l/n).”

“So I do have an angel in front of me because only an angel would have such a beautiful name as that.” He said smiling.

“Well it’s good to see you are getting back to normal brother” a female voice came from the door.

“Well that is my que to go, I’ll be checking back on you tomorrow and if everything looks good, you should be free to go within the next few days” I say sliding out of the door.

“She seems nice” I hear his sister say as I walk back to my office. Wait, how’d she unlock the door? Did she see me use my powers? All these questions went on swimming through my head.

******

“Good morning Mr. Maximoff, how are you feeling?” I asked while walking into his hospital room, looking at his medical charts “are you eating alright?”

“Good, I've gotten my strength back and maybe that means my speed came back?” he says, getting up in his bed. 

“Wow there mr maximoff you've only just started healing and you only recently had surgery. It might take some time for your speed to get back.” I say while gently lying him back down on the bed.

“Alright but promise me once we're out of here and I'm no longer your patient we will hang out and be friends yes?” he says while smiling the dorkiest of smiles I've ever seen.

“Yes, we are already friends but when you get released we can hang out” I say while grabbing my clipboard and walking back out of the room and closing the door. I lean against the wall outside and take a deep breath, wow i can't be falling for my patient but he wont be my patient next week, no next week he’ll be my teammate. 

Just before walking into his room this morning I had gotten a call from Stark informing me I would become an official member of the team, healing them whenever necessary as well as healing those injured during missions. 

This will surely be a fun experience especially when I have a handsome man like Pietro on my team. 

[maxwellatoms]

I don’t know why more people aren’t watching this show, but it’s worth a peek.

This particular episode touches heavily on storyboards and animatics, and while these guys are all talking about feature films, just about everything they’re talking about applies to animation (half of any given superhero film is animation anyway).

Animatics are such an incredible tool that I’m shocked that they aren’t an industry requirement. We literally weren’t allowed to have animatics on Billy & Mandy due to “budgetary restraints”, and since I’d never utilized them before I didn’t realize what I was missing. Now, I basically board right into animatic. If I have a line of dialog for a character, I’ll just temp it in. That way I’m both writing and directing (essentially) at the same time. As I go, I know more-or-less how much time everything is taking, what’s working, and what drags. If I hit ten minutes and I’m still not into Act 3, I know I need to cut something to make room. I can make a version of my movie or show for (essentially) free and share it as a blueprint for others to follow or give feedback on. Why would you NOT do that?

There’s some good stuff in here too about the insane pacing of Television production, the amount of stuff you somehow have to hold in your brain when you’re dealing with all of these moving pieces, and the importance of having a plan for everything. As the director, you’re the only one who is really capable of keeping track of the project from the microscopic to macroscopic scale. Everything from overall tone to the tweak you want to make to line 236 is your responsibility.

I’m not a huge fan of Snyder’s body of work, but Zack Snyder films are Zack Snyder films. His stamp is all over them. The Russos come from a much more Disnified, collaborative background. And lest that sound too noble, the collaboration is all directed toward making a product engineered to be enjoyable. In a very real way, it’s The Auteur vs. The Machine. Listening to this episode, you can tell that no one ever say Zack Snyder down in a room with a bunch of lawyers and research executives to talk about whether or not he was accidentally delivering fascist messages or how many girls aged 8-12 were into Steppenwolf. Whereas that would be Day One at Disney, and every day after would involve some other checks-and-balances meeting, a number of high-level sign-offs, and the upkeep of an intricate company-wide roadmap.

Snyder and the Russos both found themselves making superhero movies for two very different companies in two different very ways. The ways those movies were produced are as much a result of the studio culture as it is the personalities and desires of the directors. As much as Jellystone has reminded me how much I love deep collaboration, methods of production are often not my choice. Depending on the studio, I’ve occasionally felt either overwhelmed by too much “support” or left alone in the woods to die. Neither situation is exactly ideal, but both present their own unique challenges and opportunities. The Machine is efficient, gets things done, and will protect you -- as long as you’re in its good graces. The Auteur is laid bare -- flaws and obsessions on display for anyone to see. Neither Snyder or the Russos go too deep into the studio culture at either studio (oh to be a fly on the wall when the pizza is gone), but is one really superior to the other? Learning to work within the confines of a studio’s culture is a whole different layer on the onion, and I wish they talked about it here.

It’s cool to see that from the simplest cartoon short to the summer blockbuster, the struggles in the entertainment industry are all the same. The pay’s way better on the blockbuster side, though. In case you’re trying to choose.

[multific]

His Follower

Kai Anderson x Reader

Warning: Kidnapping, torture, blood, cults 

Summary: Being one of his followers had its moments, especially when his rival thinks they can just kidnap you.

As they pulled the bag off of your head, you let out a groan.

"Well this is pleasant." you looked around the room, five men wearing ski masks stood in front of you as you were chained to a chair.

"You will answer our questions." one said in a distorted tone, he must be using some kind of device.

"Alright, the secret is a good shampoo and I do weekly conditioning masks on it." you said as everyone fell silent.

"What?" one of them finally spoke.

"My hair-care routine." this resulted in you getting a slap across your face.

"We know you are one of Anderson's followers, we want to know his plans." you looked at the mask of the man who just hit you.

"You won't be able to stop him, no one will because all of you are nothing but imitators. Powerless little insects." another slap.

"You whore, you will tell us everything or you will suffer."

"I do like it rough." you smirked.

You probably didn't like it this rough though. Also who could have thought they would stab you with a freaking screwdriver?!

You didn't even feel your thigh anymore as he pulled the damned thing out, you watched blood flow out of the wound.

You looked up at their leader.

"You will regret this."

"Why would I? You are just one of many, he doesn't care about you, Sweetheart. Or did you believe he did? I feel bad for you being so naive."

you started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I'm not his follower." even with the mask on you could see the confusion. "I'm his everything, his obsession, the reason he keeps on going. I'm his wife." and now you saw the panic.

These idiots really thought they would kidnap you, chain you to a chair, torture you and kill you without Kai even noticing.

"You picked the wrong one." you said just as the door burst open and people with clown masks filled the room.

Exhaustion suddenly took over as you no longer had to hold it. Then on top of it you were pretty sure you got shot, the pain in your shoulder was killing you.

You were in and out of consciousness. 

"Miss." you heard them say but you couldn't focus. You heard the chains being cut and you felt them move you.

Once you were in a car, you passed out.

---

You woke up in your own bed, feeling like shit, you heard the machine next to you beep to the beat of your heart.

You looked at the damn thing beeping away, the sound annoying you to no end.

You made a face before you felt your hand being touched, you turned and saw your husband smiling at you.

"Sweetheart." he said as you tried to sit up, your shoulder hurt like hell and so did your legs. "Don't move too much, you lost a lot of blood and you were shot in the shoulder."

"Wonderful..." you said as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"I dealt with them." you heard him say as you only let out a sound to acknowledge his statement.

"My shoulder feels like shit."

"You were shot, Darling, it is normal. I'm sorry."

"The fuckers took me from a parking lot! I had ice cream in there..."

"It was planned. Thankfully I found you in time."

"I know you watched the video of them taking me many times. They wanted info, they thought I was only a follower." he almost laughed at that.

"If anything you are the one telling me no."

"Well, they didn't know that." you looked back at him, opening your eyes. "Can you stop that thing? I'm alive, the beeping is making me crazy."

He stood up and went to the other side of the bed, turning the machine off before sitting down by your leg.

"I won't let this happen again, you will be with me at all times or you will have someone with you. I can't lose you." You lifted your hand and put his cheek into your palm, you offered him a weak smile.

"You won't. I'm too stubborn to die anyway, you know that. But I wouldn't mind spending more time with you. You have been busy lately with your plans." he nodded. "I don't blame you for this, if anything its your stupid men who shot me in the shoulder." he made a face at that.

"They told me it was the people who took you."

"They didn't have a gun." you replied and now Kai knew, he needed to have a talk and find just who shot his wife. "I love you. Thank you for saving me."

He didn't want to bring up the fact that he was the very reason you were taken. He can't let that eat him up from the inside. He will just try and move on.

But both of you knew, every time he will see your scars, they will be a reminder to him of his failure. 

Never again. He promised to himself and to you.

"I love you too." he said as he moved his head to kiss your palm.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[dreamingkelz]

I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous writing this, but I’ve been thinking in circles a lot lately, and I thought writing my thoughts down would be helpful and maybe alleviate some anxiety? This isn’t really criticism about anything, so much as observations and analysis and just a general attempt to understand some of the weirder things I’ve experienced being in this fandom.

With that said, let’s get started.

I’ve talked in the past about how protective I feel when it comes to the eggs. I don’t like people threatening to kill them. I don’t like when the story puts them in danger. I don’t like how neglect deaths are still a risk. And after a few close calls over the past few days, egg welfare is in the front of my mind again, and I’ve found myself questioning why I feel this way. It’s strange, isn’t it? As many people have said, they’re just a bunch of pixels in a video game, aren’t they?

First and foremost, I want to preface this by saying I’m a writer, and more specifically, I’m a writer who loves angst. I’ve always drifted towards tragic narratives. I want to see the characters I’m invested in get tested. I want to see them cope with trauma and loss. I love when a story can make me cry. I’m not necessarily a fan of child death as a narrative device, but of all of the stories I’ve written, my favorite does see the main character watching four of his five children die in increasingly horrific ways over the course of fifty chapters, so it’s definitely not a dealbreaker for me. If the QSMP was an ordinary story, I think I would love the tension and the horror of the situation. As is, there have been some interesting character developments to come out of the constant threat of death, or the trauma caused by past deaths on the server.

So then why? Why does the thought of egg deaths still fill me with a nauseating sense of dread?

To start with, the QSMP is not an ordinary story. I don’t think any story told through this particular style of Minecraft roleplay is or can be. This is real-time player-driven roleplaying, and I think there are three medium-defining factors at play here. One: every player (usually) streams their perspective. Two: characters appear and disappear from the story based on the players’ streaming schedules. And three: while they are online, we will experience every single thing that happens to the players.

Combined, we end up with a narrative that simultaneously has characters that are better-developed than can be found in any other medium, while also somehow being worse. Any character is likely to have a vivid, colorful personality, deeply engaging relationships with the people around them, a rich inner life, and their own unique perspective on any events that occur on the server. But that same character might inexplicably be absent from a plot beat that they are heavily invested in, solely because the streamer isn’t available for that particular stream. Plotlines get dropped for any number of reasons. Backstories are, more often than not, cobbled together from references to past servers that the player has taken part in. All-in-all, narrative and even character takes a backseat to the players - their identities, their schedules, their playstyles, their comfort.

It is also worth repeating that everything that happens on the server is unfolding in real time. The narrative doesn’t cut away when the story stops, at least not for most of the players. There are a handful who might log in with a single focus for the day, stream for one or two hours, then log off again. But many more are there nearly every day for several hours at a time, and a lot of that time will be dedicated to non-story events - building, doing dungeons, making machines, or just hanging out with the other players. While any player on any stream can be prone to breaking character to talk about events from their offline lives, these long, lore-light streams are especially prone to it. And there are some players who specifically try to avoid participating in lore altogether. At the end of the day, they are streamers first, and actors in a story second.

The result of all of these factors is a server with an incredibly thin line between fiction and reality. There is a distinction between the player and the character they play, yes, but in any given stream the difference between the two can become murky.

But how does this tie to the eggs?

In the beginning, it wasn’t necessarily so bad. The eggs were just cute little blobs that followed their respective players around and needed to be taken care of. There was even a lot of confusion in the earliest days as to whether or not they were controlled by AI. If that was all they had stayed, perhaps we wouldn’t have gotten so attached? The problem came when they started talking.

Suddenly, the eggs were able to communicate things they liked and projects they wanted to work on. They were able to tell jokes, and express complicated emotions, and let the personalities they’d already started fostering shine. They started carving out niches in the community of the server - people ask Dapper for help with engineering projects and mod-related information; Richarlyson’s art is plastered over every other business and he even does concept art for builds; the eggs form relationships outside of their assigned player, with eggs and players alike. Some of them even have their own ongoing storylines. Parents are careful to make sure that every egg is taken care of every week, and everybody freaks out if they see an egg go down in chat.

Yes, the eggs are cute. They’re small and meant to evoke human children. The players are explicitly told to protect them, to raise them, and keep them healthy and happy. Of course everybody would become attached. But isn’t it strange to get this attached?

If cute child characters were all they were, I would think so. But that isn’t the case. In practice, the eggs are effectively players themselves.

Players that only exist in the context of the server.

Players that the server is actively trying to kill.

And I think that is the problem. The eggs are characters in a story, but the story has such a murky line between fiction and reality, that they wind up feeling real. After all, they follow the same rules as the other “characters” when it comes to portraying a character. This isn’t like a Cucurucho or a Walter Bob who come online once in a while to hang out, but clearly have an off-screen role to play in the story as well. The eggs may not stream their perspectives, but they spend nearly one hundred percent of their time interacting with players, and if they’re not with a player, they’re assumed to be sleeping. Furthermore, depending on whose perspective you watch, you’re going to spend a minimum of three days a week watching egg content, and when they log on, they tend to stay for hours. If you were watching in the beginning, they were online every day. That is a LOT of time to “get to know” these characters who so convincingly mimic the players.

Effectively (and unintentionally), the QSMP has tricked the audience into forming parasocial relationships with a handful of fictional characters.

I have never cried over the death of a fictional character, or even had a particularly strong reaction. When a character is in danger, usually my reaction is excitement over the narrative possibilities the situation could create. I love tragedy in fiction. I love horror. I love drama. And on the server itself, this is how I’ve consistently felt about inter-player conflicts. My engagement is at its highest when there is some kind of narrative tension between the player characters (and the fandom reactions to this kind of thing deserve their own essay).

But when Dapper lost his first life, I was so viscerally upset that I nearly dropped the series to protect my mental health. I have pointedly refused to watch any stream where an egg dies if I know it’s coming, and I tend to avoid streams dealing with the aftermath of their deaths as well.

Because no matter how much logic you throw at the situation, it still feels real. If a player character perma-dies, or is banned, or just chooses to leave, they may no longer have a presence in the server, but it’s still clear to the audience that only the character is dead. The player exists outside of the server, and for the parasocially invested, it’s usually still easy to keep up with them if one wants to. The eggs broadly do not have that luxury. Once they’re dead in the story, they cease to exist altogether, and in an environment where the fiction/reality line is already so blurred, that is going to have a strong impact on the audience. No amount of hearing “they’re pixels in a video game” is going to mitigate that.

I think the best case scenario is that they grant the eggs the same immortality as the players, whether it be through hatching or some other means, and allow them to come and go as suits them. The eggs have fulfilled their initial purpose, and the server would really benefit from removing this hurdle that disincentivizes chaos and recklessness and incentivizes harassment from a highly-stressed audience. Multiple players have already said they have no intention of returning because they don’t want to deal with the fallout that will come from potentially hurting an egg. But all of these eggs have carved out a real place in the server, and it would be a shame to lose that.

The eggs are important to the QSMP and a major draw for a lot of people. And I don’t think that needs to change. But I do think that there are ways to use the eggs for narrative drama without having to force your audience into subconsciously believing that their favorite streamer has died. The QSMP, and servers like it, provide a unique storytelling medium with its own advantages and challenges. And as with any medium, it’s important to be aware of what these challenges are in order to tell the best story possible.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Before I Sleep, Pt. 7

Weir approaches her older self to ask her about the time machine, and Sheppard steps to the side to look at Old Weir through the monitor in stark contrast to how, when McKay approached her earlier, Sheppard stepped forward in tandem and in unison with him.

Notice also how, even when Sheppard is behind Weir and looking at Old Weir over her shoulder, they are placed at the extreme opposite sides of the frame to emphasize the distance, their heads tilting away from one another where Sheppard and McKay's heads were tilted toward each other (Sheppard is also out of focus behind Weir even though he is the one speaking, also underlining the distance between them).

Here, we are not shown how close McKay is standing to Sheppard, it's left to the imagination. But it does not appear as though he has moved that much from his previous position. We see Sheppard at the very left of the frame from which we cut directly to McKay looking at him with what can only be described as an attempt at discerning what Sheppard is thinking right then. He is clearly trying to gauge the meaning behind Sheppard's words, the reason he's suddenly interested and asking the question. It's not the question as such that interests him (elsewhy he would be looking at her for the answer) but why Sheppard is asking it in the first place. This is the first time Sheppard engages the older woman:

Old Weir: The next thing I knew, I woke up here. Sheppard: You mean now? Old Weir: No. Then.

Point is, how ever intimate you interpret Sheppard and Weir to be at any point in this episode, we are shown that Sheppard and McKay are closer. In every sense of the word, they are closer, more intimate. They make it a point to both visually show and textually tell us this. They literally inserted McKay between them.

Old Weir tells them how the time machine in which she, Sheppard, and Zelenka jaunted into the past had crashed into the planet, and how she had been the only one the Ancients had fished out of the wreckage on the ocean floor, meaning that this other Sheppard had died 10,000 years in the past. Given Sheppard's jab at his death earlier, the motivation for which McKay probably didn't get, he just has to comment on that, going so far as to interrupt the 10,000 year old woman:

McKay: Ha! Ah, the bitter taste of ultimate failure, hm? Sheppard: Well, if you'd just figured out how to fix the damn shield in the first place, none of us would have died. McKay: I did everything I could, including valiantly attempting to save your sorry--

Ass. It was Sheppard's ass McKay had at the tip of his tongue.

And they are full-on role-playing with their alternate world characters, here. I'll draw your attention to the fact that Sheppard isn't only or even primarily upset about himself dying. He points out that none of them would have died, very much including McKay himself. It seems like McKay identified with his alternative counterpart much more than Sheppard does, and letting other people die on his watch is a lot more upsetting to him than some alternate dimension counterpart of himself getting killed doing something he was supposed to be doing anyway.

But as much as he knew just what button to push with McKay earlier, McKay also instinctively lands on his soft underbelly: being unable to save the people he cares about (regardless of what they are to each other at this time, McKay just doesn't realize that this very much includes himself, and that this man next to him cares about him a whole lot more than the other Sheppard cared about any of the people who died with the other Atlantis). He doesn't even do it on purpose, as McKay is basically just figuring out that turnabout is fair play and returning Sheppard's earlier sentiment. Just like in the hallway in front of Chaya's quarters in the previous episode, it's not McKay's intention or fault that he hits a nerve, there are things that he (and we, as the audience) don't know about John Sheppard yet, and he wants to keep it that way. All we know is that his black mark in Afghanistan had something to do with a failed attempt at saving people.

For the second time in this episode, Weir calls them 'gentlemen', referring to them as a unit, and begs them to focus on this very important thing that they are all meant to be doing. The frail old woman is telling them things that might be extremely significant down the line, after all.

The thing is, they were focusing. On each other. Entirely, one hundred percent on each other. Again, you can attribute this to "the game," if you wish. They are very competitive. They certainly are bickering... "or something," here. And Sheppard very much was preparing to get right up in McKay's grill about it. He throws out his shoulder, turning himself toward McKay.

Had Weir, who is clearly 100% done with their shenanigans, not put a pause to it, reminded them that there were, in fact, other people present, we might have learned where Sheppard got the idea that making out was the best way to "get it over with" with McKay, like he suggested to Zelenka in First Strike (S03E20)--and it's very much not a coincidence that they have that exchange when the city is submerged on the ocean floor where, here, we are told that Sheppard and Zelenka's bodies are buried on the ocean floor. It rhymes. It's a call-back.

Being scolded by the younger Weir in front of the old, Sheppard once more takes on the demeanor of an innocent school boy, releasing the defensive set of his crossed arms (and make note of the fact that his crossed arms are not directed at McKay, they are a barrier between him and Old Weir, him and the idea of creeping death) and clasping his hands behind his back... against the self-same ass just almost mentioned, as it were. The word was never spoken but the thought seems to have occurred to them both. Not the time, not the place. Where Sheppard changes his demeanor, McKay is frozen in place, his hand actually staying up right where it was, as though meaning to grab a hold of something. He looks at Sheppard, more interested by his reaction than the titillating story he just interrupted. He was fully prepared to continue with what ever was happening between the two of them here.

However you read this scene, fact is that it only takes one small comment from McKay to draw them both into a world of their own, to make each other the focal point and centre of the other's attention, like every moment they're merely looking for an excuse to shut off and tune out everything and everyone else. The ease with which it happens, how natural it is. And until Weir snaps them out of it, they don't even realize it's happening.

There's probably a reason the show has spent the several past episodes, most of the season, in fact, figuring out different ways in which they can keep the two of them separated, to keep them somehow, some way at a distance, on the intercom, unable to get to one another. Because as soon as they are in the same physical space, they are in proximity, they are drawn together, inevitably, like the light of a dying star approaching the event horizon as it is consumed. They have to come up with actual ways to keep them apart because their natural inclination is to come together like they are both one half of something naturally looking to be whole.

Old Weir tells them more about what happened to her in the past, meeting Janus and the Ancients, including the Atlantean council. Sheppard has a peculiar reaction to hearing about Janus being the one that had built the time machine:

Might be he's curious about someone who must have been the McKay of the Ancients.

It is interesting that the Ancients that Weir met in the past are very similar to the Replicators we later meet who, apparently, are very accurate copies of them. And still Sheppard was able to sense that they weren't real. He also looks as uncomfortable as ever when older Weir mentions the Wraith.

That is a guilt that's never going to go away. To his credit, McKay actually attempts (as he has done in the past) to ease Sheppard's burden by taking some of the blame, emphasizing the fact that they're in this together.

Old Weir: They told me of beings called Wraiths -- a vicious, formidable enemy whose power and technology rivalled their own. McKay: Yes. Actually, we've already--

However, Weir silences him with a look because it's more important right now to hear what she has to say. Being very weak, she passes out once more in the middle of her story only to wake up to this sight of Beckett explaining to them her condition (and McKay looks away for a while as he's listening to the explanation of her deteriorating physical condition, confirming again that he has watched someone die up close from a slowly progressing disease; also emphasizing the fact that Sheppard and McKay have to look away from the other when they don't want them reading something off of the other's face):

This other Weir knew her own Sheppard and McKay briefly 10,000 years ago and now has been watching these two for a few hours while falling asleep several times, and she still seems to have noticed that there's something going on between them. The audience is watching their backs from her perspective on the bed.

Here, again, they are angled toward each other, Sheppard with hands on hips and jutting out his... masculine display--and not for Beckett's benefit-- while McKay is again trying to read his thoughts from his expression. We (along with Old Weir) are looking at and listening to Beckett through the pair them. How close are they, I hear you ask?

Uh.

And again, they have to go around Beckett to get closer to her bed and Sheppard chooses to veer around him by stepping closer to McKay. We also now see Beckett standing behind Weir, and he's standing closer to her than Sheppard did previously. Whereas, now that he's standing behind McKay...

Compared to the earlier scene with Weir, they are both standing closer to each other and do not have their hands crossed as barriers between them. By their positioning, we are very much asked to contrast these things.

Also, younger Weir seems to catch on to the fact that her other self had clearly been vibing with Janus. There was a definite connection between the two and briefly as they knew each other, we see Weir kiss him on the cheek. And not only that, but she actually brings up Simon, Weir's lover back home, a while later.

The two Weirs get to have a moment to themselves as the next time she wakes up, it's McKay and Sheppard that have fallen asleep:

I refer you to my earlier entry about the Atlantean beds. McKay is able to sleep at a very narrow space, and Sheppard seems to need even less space as, as a soldier, he has trained himself to be able to catch some "Zs" wherever and whenever possible. We pan from McKay sleeping to Sheppard sleeping, the two of them sleeping together. and even in their goddamn sleep they are mirroring each other. "See anything better than our current quarters?" McKay asked Sheppard at the start of the episode. "It's not that big" Sheppard told him later. If they weren't talking about a more comfortable place to sleep in, they clearly should have. And, as we learn later (Broken Ties, S05E03) , McKay's quarters has a bath tub or an Ancient equivalent of a jacuzzi so it follows that they did find "something better than our current quarters" after (or during) this episode.

Notice also how, when Weir wakes Sheppard up, McKay is instantly roused like they're domino pieces and she knocked just the first one over but the other one fell from the same impact through contact.

McKay finds the paper with the gate addresses in his pocket and he immediately hands it over to Sheppard like it's a thing they need to be looking at together, and the two of them start excitedly working on puzzling it out as the older Weir passes away. Very sad, all around.

Next, we find Weir on the same balcony as we did at the start of the episode. The older Weir died on her birthday, so if she was having an existential moment in the beginning, now that she's scattering her own ashes into the ocean, her thoughts weigh even more heavily on her. And like she was in the beginning, she's joined by Sheppard.

This time, he's there to fetch her to the mission briefing, as they're all apparently revving up to go fetch some of the ZPMs that are supposed to be at the end of the rainbow road marked by the five gate addresses procured by the older Weir. She's not quite as excited as the others seem to be, or at least she's not there yet. As he turns to leave, Sheppard's eyes drop to the Athosian vase he gave Weir in the beginning of the episode which she has now turned into an urn.

Sheppard scratches his head as he leaves her, and this is probably a call-back to his earlier "I can't imagine how you must be feeling". He can sympathize, he can tell that this must be having a profound effect on her. But he can't read her thoughts from her face, and she actually has to spell it out for him that she's going to need a minute, here.

Yes, they care about each other, but everything in this episode is designed to lead us to the conclusion that even someone who's half-blind only has to see these two men around each other for a couple of moments to come to the conclusion that there is something going on between them, that there's some special bond they share. What ever the nature of that bond may be is up for anyone's interpretation. But, like. We see character after character come to the same exact conclusion about them.

It's deeper than words, my friend. Deeper than words.

[westc0astt]

ULTRAVIOLENCE

Navi! miles quaritch x reader fem *:･ﾟ

tw: psychological abuse

smut

mention of death

words: 1842

As I opened my eyes I felt the light hit any sense in me hard, my head throbbing making everything visible blurry. Another light appeared, a circle and a hand with the light pushed it away and then brought it closer.

"Pupils respond correctly."

The new sound made me sit up suddenly and look at the expanse of my legs, long and blue. I looked at the other blue men who seemed to be in the same condition and in one of those I saw him hold one of them which was larger with a cut too familiar for my liking.

I recognized him, I knew who he was and who he is, I stood up and grunted feeling the euphoria inside me before speeding up the pace towards the blue soldier.

Inside I felt scared seeing so many people with syringes but without thinking I pounced on top of the man who was being held by a woman and a bald man.

My nails and fangs embedded themselves in his neck and arms, and I only heard his scream as he writhed from side to side, but it was useless. The other blue men were also stalking me but before they could pin me down too, the recombinant I was hurting managed to get his arms released and grabbed me by the neck to throw me against a glass with all his strength, I felt a familiar sensation of dying as I hit the ground when all my senses ceased to serve.

I woke up again in the same place but this time I was the only giant in the room, now calmer they did some tests and took me to a room to give me some clothes to wear.

I began to be struck by memories of what my life was like before I died.

I was a scientist hired by the RDA as well as Dr. Grace, very young to die, although at that time all the other avatars were just killing machines, I felt captivated and grateful to return to what I studied and respected so much before abandoning my being in the human body.

But it wasn't all good, that man.

"Miles quaritch" I whispered as I lay back on my bed, I don't know what is more uncomfortable than having to look at the man who ended my life, it's pure resentment. How consumed by ending Pandora to the point of killing his "mate". He is nothing of mine now, I will never see him as my Colonel, nor do I have any respect for him or live with any of these sickos.

"Lyle why don't you better speak what you have to say to leave this uncomfortable atmosphere" I hissed as I ran my fingers through my hair. "They need you, you must come with me" I almost shrieked in desperation as I arranged the pearl necklace which I felt was suffocating me as I took more steps.

When I reached the place where I was requested I saw the commander shouting at a boy with dreadlocks and blue lines while he was on a machine which makes it possible to visualize the thoughts of the little guy.

My ears shifted to the presence of someone unpleasant to me, and I sighed feeling his large figure land behind me.

"Tell him to let him go" I said quietly to Quaritch listening to the boy's screams, they are inhuman, as a few seconds passed the man reacted and asked to be let go.

"He is not your son" Said the commander to Quaritch, I just felt how my ears lowered and my pupils became too small. Socorro, the pilot with whom Miles had once betrayed me, that day I heard the rumor of her pregnancy , my cup runneth over and I decided to help Jake Sully, the reason they took my life, escape. Memories flood me from the moment I woke up again, I can only think of the sensation that flowed from my chest when I felt the shot, and the blood that flowed from my mouth when I fell on my knees in front of the feet of that monster.

The commander explained to me what I already knew 'you must collaborate to calm the hostiles and teach them to survive in Pandora" and more things that do not interest me, but she also forced me to go and try to reason with the boy.

I walked around taking a breath of air from the mask as I reached the cell and swiped the access card on the door. The size of the doorway was up to my navel forcing me to lower my head only to see Miles talking to the human.

"Why would they send an insensitive idiot to talk to a child?" I sneered at the larger avatar's face for his poor practice of the Navi language and the smaller one got a smirk on his face mocking Quaritch.

"What are you doing here sweetie" "I came to keep Spider company" I wrinkled my nose at the over name, I wonder if he doesn't remember who he is talking to or has no dignity.

Quaritch has been apologizing to me every night without anyone seeing him, he doesn't want to damage his reputation as a bad man, but I don't care what he does anymore.

I talked a little, not to say a lot with Spider, in what I have had of life with this body I had not had an interesting conversation until today, he is a very interesting boy and most of our talk was in the Navi language for better comfort as Quaritch was there so he did not understand most of our words.

I left the cell as I shook out my skirt with a grin from ear to ear, but as I reached my room I couldn't help but have a slump, this place is extremely depressing why did I have to come back, deep inside I would have rather rested in death than be here, being forced to watch them destroy everything in their path, like the animals they are. I lay on the giant bed as I curled up feeling tears pooling in my eyes and slipping leaving my face wet in their wake.I try to make excuses as to why being here is dire and torture, but I know it's because of him, my inner child from before, the one who let herself be treated like a rag doll doing whatever Miles said, no matter how many times he insulted me or hurt me, it felt like true love, but seeing his empty stare as he pulled the trigger chemically affected my brain.

I fell asleep crying and woke up rubbing my eyes when I heard knocking at the door and looked at the time and it read one in the morning.

'Not again' I thought as I grabbed the pillow and grabbed my ears feeling the feeling of tears and nausea return.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me just listen to me" I closed my eyes tightly as I felt my breathing hitch and I started to shake.

"please go away" I whimpered leaning back against the back of the bed and hugged my legs.

Everything went silent making me think he was gone like all the other nights since it wasn't the first time, but I heard the door switch as it was unlocked and my throat went dry as the door opened revealing a hesitant Quaritch with a key card in hand.

I was in shock and just started crying like a little girl, silently. He wordlessly sat down next to me and forced my head to lay on his shoulder as he hugged me and combed my hair.

"Easy my girl" he spoke as I felt his tears mingle with mine as he gave me a warm kiss, completely blinding my opinion of everything he did to me.

"I'm not that man anymore, but the one thing I do hold firm is my love for you and you know it my porcelain doll."

I just looked at him silently as I felt his fingers brush the straps of my shirt.

"Don't see me as the human Colonel Quaritch, see me as Miles, the man who will love you in this life and the next" "Forgive me please."

His words were camouflaged with lies but I wanted to believe it was different.

We didn't unite is a kiss which was at first delicate and fleeting, but he made it strong and wild, all that love mixed with other intentions.

I hated him, hated his magical touch and how I pathetically surrendered to him, how I felt his hands throwing my shirt off me.

His hands kneaded my breasts drawing little moans from me as I sought his touch more desperately.

He ignited the flame that he would one day extinguish.

His hands kneaded my breasts drawing small moans from me as I sought more of his touch desperately.

"Look at you dirty whimsical little girl" he laid me down on the bed climbing on top of me placing his knee very close to my center as he tended to my two nubs on my chest, brushing his thigh on my clothed sex making me rub more and squeal as I felt him bite my nipple and with his other hand he pinched the skin of my other breast. "Touch me please" I whispered before he shushed me and pulled down my underwear only leaving me with my skirt. He gave my bud a few good ones earning sloppy moans from my mouth. He stopped attending to my intimacy and looked at me with the eyes of a cat towards his little mouse.

He made me lie on my stomach lifting my ass towards him as I listened to him unzip his pants and pull out his cock, I turned my face away trying to see and my tail wagged from here and there from excitement.

I was wet enough for his cock to enter me easily, filling me completely, it hurt but I knew he was enjoying it so I kept quiet feeling tears welling up in the corner of my eyes, but all that pain turned to pleasure with his hard stagnant sloppy thrusts.

I wasn't just full, I was with him and for me it was more than intimate this, his body and my body.

I whimpered as I reached orgasm, I cried as I was overstimulated, he smacked my ass cheeks leaving a mark, and he also showered me with praise, such is love or our love, pain and passion.

After that night I was blinded, thinking it was love, going back to being a puppet and I liked it, I had a sense of life again and it always was, just him.

Despite whatever promises he made to me he didn't keep them, his hatred of life on Pandora and Jake was always stronger than loving me and that day on that boat he simply let me die.

But this time I would never have the chance to see his eyes again.