#long post feel free to ignore

[andromeddog]

I love hearing about your OCs AAaAA

I'm curious, if you don't mind sharing, what does James think of Connor getting blown up? I remember on one of your posts you mentioned Connor and another one of your OCs blow each other up, and considering the answer to the previous ask, I really wanna know what your other OCs' opinion on it is (Specifically James though lol)?

If it's spoilers that's cool though, your OCs are just very fun to hear about!

anon you are spoiling me with these questions i have so much lore just sitting around of these guys and nowhere to put it. i’ve said it before but the best format for this story would be like a 300 chapter graphic novel but i don’t have the time/skill/patience for all that. anywho on to ur question

so yeah connor and anselm (guy with all the facial scars i draw sometimes)(he’s got a lot of his own baggage lol) end up blowing each other up. anselm is a stormtrooper and during the german offensive in 1918 he’s part of a group that storms the boy’s section of trench. while the scots are retreating, connor gets shot through the hip and can’t keep walking. james is with him but had previously been shot through the shoulder and can’t help pull him along. connor insists on staying behind so james and the others have the opportunity to escape danger but james is like hello what the fuck i’m not leaving you here??? they keep arguing about it but eventually james listens and does retreat. connor decides if he’s going to die he’s taking someone out with him - anselm eventually shows up and before he can finish him off, connor blows the both of them up with a grenade he’d kept hidden. and that’s how he goes out!

all of that being said his death is uhhhhhh a really big deal to everyone. connor was a really loud guy and his absence is really noticeable in their lives. hes also the only one of them to actually die during the war. they all have their own reactions and ways of dealing with it but james is definitely the one who takes it hardest haha

so ig peter and connor are the best place to start bc they have known each other for pretty much their entire lives- their moms are very close friends and the two of them are effectively cousins. their relationship is pretty antagonistic growing up, as peter is fundamentally unimpressed by connor’s bravado and connor just really doesn’t respect peter’s leadership (he thinks he could probably do a better job). they butt heads a lot a lot over the years. when connor dies peter is rly shaken up, he figured they would always be in each other’s lives, bickering and spending holidays together. peter’s got a big soft heart and is in disbelief for a while, as annoying as connor he’s supposed to be there. he keeps thinking he sees him out of the corner of his eye, keeps looking over his shoulder, and feels vaguely responsible for his death, since he’s the self appointed guardian of the group. though just as grief is starting to settle in, peter gets his knee thoroughly fucked up/his leg amputated and is sent home, so he has very little time to process connor’s death before he’s dealing with a major health crisis (spoiler alert once he’s home he really does not take either of these well)

for johnny the reaction is dull shock. connor was his self appointed Rival, someone who constantly challenged him and who always pushed him to be better, faster, smarter, and it’s only once he’s gone that johnny realizes how important that was. johnny is a really energetic guy and funneled a lot of that into his rivalry with connor, and without that in his life he is restless, itchy, and irritable. he doesn’t feel grief so much as a deep sense of disappointment; in all, connor’s death is just such a waste of potential. johnny honestly handles it the best, though it’s mainly by throwing himself into the situation at hand and helping james and peter, who are both much worse off than himself. once the war is over and he’s back home, he can’t help but notice how much quieter the world is without connor.

and oh poor james. since he’s physically there when connor decides to sacrifice himself, he is definitely left with a lot of grief and guilt and trauma over the whole thing. he regrets leaving the second he does and only follows through with it because it is connor’s last wish, and he feels he does owe him that. james is in shock for a long time afterwards. it feels like someone tore off a limb. it feels like there’s a part of him that is suddenly empty. it’s a wound that never really heals and one that he can never really talk about. how is he supposed to vocalize what connor meant to him? he can hardly admit to himself that there was something else there beyond friendship, it’s too precious and too delicate and it was theirs, and he couldn’t possibly share that with anyone else. james is left as kind of a shell in the aftermath, very quiet and withdrawn, and sticks very close to peter and johnny. there is just a certain weight that exists in him after connor dies, one that never really eases up and one he can never put down. connor was too important to him, and if he lets go of that sadness he feels as though he lets go of connor himself. james ends up living a long life, he eventually does get married and has children, but often still thinks of the war and what he lost

god this is so long and even then it feels abridged lol thank u again for asking heehoo

[felassan]

I received a few asks around a similar topic, so I'm popping them together here. ( ´ ▽ ` ) DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[the Felassan Files]

hello! ◕‿◕ thank you for the lovely and fun ask messages!!

lavendervoids asked: "i’ve been dying to know what ur reaction was to seeing felassan in the game was???? the moment i saw him i was yelling and hollering and my first thought was “omg what does tumblr user felassan think of this” LMAO and thank you for all the documenting you’ve been doing up until and past the release of the game, i ended up blocking every dragon age tag a couple months back to avoid any sort of spoilers but i still came to your blog everyday cause i knew you wouldn’t spoil me haha"

hhhh ( ´ ▽ ` ) tysm for thinking of me at that time!! and for the nice comment about this blog and visiting it. I'm really glad to know that my approach to spoiler tagging etc has been okay for you.

littlerune asked: "i don't even know you but you and dragon age felassan are so intrinsically linked in my brain that when he appeared in veilguard all i thought was "ohhhh i wonder how tumblr user felassan feels about this"

hhhh :D 🥺 thankyou so much for thinking of me!! ♡ some say that his ghost operates this tumblr blog, or that he lives still

songofamazon asked: "I'm still on my first play of the game, but whenever I got to the memories in the Crossroads, I thought to myself, "I hope Tumblr Felassan is having a great time. Did you?"

I had a great time playing the game and when playing the Crossroads memories sections, I loved them a lot, they were very cool and a highlight of the game. thankyou sm and for thinking of me, and I hope that you did too!!

phantabula-interactive asked: "im so glad you're enjoying the game!! I had to ask; how did you feel about seeing Felassan in game?? I was so excited to see the notes from him, I wasn't expecting a boss fight MUCH LESS. FULL CAMEO!!! They made him a lot prettier than I was expecting too (/pos)"

thankyou!! I hope that you've been enjoying it too!

so: I was sooo excited and shook to see Felassan in the game!!! I was like

(I yelped/hooted out loud like a clown) and then

and then it was suddenly like too much (pos) and my soul left my body and i astral projected into space/paradise/the Astral Plane/the Void or something etc

and then it took me some time to process or gather my thoughts about it.

obviously I was super hoping that we would see him in the game. I was sure that there would at least be some references to him in codexes/notes etc or allusions made in passing dialogue like Cole and Solas' lines about him in Trespasser. then when the marketing mentioned that we would see flashbacks from Solas' past in the Crossroads, I was like aaa omg, wouldn't that be the perfect time to actually show Felassan??, as a Fade memory or flashback or spirit echo or something. so then I was hoping like 🕯️🕯️🕯️ and yea. but even so, still when I saw him in game for the first time it was still a huge shocked Pikachu moment for me.

I was already feeling psyched from the first Felassan codex/note that I found, then I couldn't believe (pos) just how many codexes/notes scattered around written by him that there was?? I was already feeling spoiled (not spoiled by spoilers but like spoiled from eating good) from that (a bunch of codexes/notes might not seem like a lot but when your fav is a side character that has only appeared in one [1] tie-in novel..) and then he goes and actually APPEARS, AAAA. I feel like I ate so good. with the Betrayal fight and the rune at the end as well, it felt like he was threaded throughout the game and was really haunting the narrative. some assorted thoughts:

first of all everything about his DA:TV appearances/DA:TV references continues to underscore that he is the greatest of all time

it also continues to underscore the pain of his death/story and of his friendship with Solas

may I please go and start a new life living in Solas' memories of Felassan on repeat. i simply do not care that my body would waste away in the waking world from lack of sustenance

in the endgame I was trying to concentrate and punch Elgar'nan in the face and save the world but I like couldn't see straight through the tears after having been given Felassan's Magical Boyfriend Super Rune (morrigan pls.. what a way to twist the KNIFE at an extremely critical moment for thedas hhhh..)

expansion pack where we relive Solas' memories of him and Felassan dating (he didn't deserve Felassan tho fr. but then, does anyone..?)

I know that Felassan would treat Lavellan sooooo right. so well. so respectfully. felassan would pull their chair out for them at restaurants and open car doors and whatever

Betrayal of Felassan refers to Solas' betrayal of Felassan, not Felassan's betrayal of Solas

also i love how they made him DEVASTATINGLY handsome?? in the game (they didnt need to go that hard), but also how, at the same time - even before the TME Deluxe edition illustrations, we all just inherently knew deep in our bones that he was, you could simply just tell from his energy and vibes and dialogue even in only the written word. cool rolls off this guy in waves, and always has done

did his model have smoky winged eye makeup? love that. love that for him

I liked his sense of style. the hair his model has happened to be one of the ones I was debating using for my Rook. it's one of my fav ones from the CC

I appreciated the attention they paid to detail when making his model. Mythal vallaslin, violet/purple eyes, an undercut - as he was previously described or shown in TME, dev social media comments and the TME deluxe illustrations

I liked the actor they chose for him, his voice was cool

I felt like his codexes and notes that he wrote captured his voice and his character. you can see the depth of his loyalty and devotion to his friend, his concerns, and he retains his 'voice' in terms of some snark, wit etc

it's fun thinking about whether Felassan originally manifested from the Fade (and if so, what was he a spirit of) or whether he was born the usual way of other elves. (it could be either one)

Betrayal of Felassan as a manifested embodied regret and its lines like "his back, turned".. very raw. that fight was hard enough mechanically for me as it was, then the lines were like being hamstrung LOL. how could they??? (pos/lh)

I always thought that, a long time ago, Solas was essentially the player character in a different game, the main character of another story. the leader of his own group of companions and friends on their own quest (to stop the Evanuris), and that Felassan was one of those companions. Alistair to his Hero of Ferelden if you will. in DA:TV we learn that not only was he one of his companions, he was basically the second-in-command of his rebellion, a General, his closest friend aside from Mythal and his right-hand man.

he was so cool back in his heyday

pain. paaaaain. but like in a good way (I unironically love to be hurt by stories pls continue 💀...)

there are a few further posts containing more bits of my reaction and thoughts scattered through my Felassan tag. ^^

There were also a few other asks about this in my inbox, but Tumblr appears to have eaten them?? :< so if you've asked me about Felassan and my reaction since launch but the message isn't in this post, thankyou sm and I'm very sorry. 😔 pls feel free to re-send it. :)

I do remember that one of the vanished messages asked me what the Slaughter of the Pillars boss regret refers to - the Pillars of the Earth are the Titans. ("Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!") That undead boss embodies another of Solas' greatest regrets, namely what he and Mythal did to the Titans during the war with them - sundering every Titan from their spirit, severing them from their dreams, which resulted in the Blight as the dreams were driven mad. it also in a sense broke the dwarves in two and caused the fall of the fate of the dwarven people. Beyond the mural-memory that pertains to this in DA:TV, there are depictions of this time in the ancient past in the DA:TV artbook: [one, two]. Annotations there describe Solas rendering the Titans tranquil and capturing their souls; dwarves as a consequence then losing their connection to magic and fleeing into the now-Tranquil earth; and the Evanuris then building Elvhenan using the power of the captured Titan souls.

[firstkhao]

[kathonyy]

BRIDGERTON SEASON 3 PROMO ↳ FULL POST

[femaleidols]

nicole: 5!6!7!8!

[perlen-gold]

A MelkorxMairon story

inspired by saintstars

(link to AO3)

“Come.”

They call me Great Death, the Constrainer. Black Foe of the World, Master of Lies. They say I am merciless and proud, atrocious, barbarous, brutal and ruthless, abominable and terrible to behold, wicked and vicious. They are not wrong.

 “Come,” I whispered, my voice a phantom of its earth-cracking thunder tracing across his heated stone-skin.

I imagined him adorned lightly. Onyx-black, ink-soft lace balming his skin. A hue of jewelry, the rings he so liked, fragrant with flawless gold.

Lose, the scarlet-crimsoned whisper of his hair, embroidering the tickling shadows about him, breathing with a faint, warm glow, lose, unbound, free.

Instead, iron and steel. Rather, I felt it was the blunt taste of metal humming beneath my fingertips., winter-gray and silver-cool.

Never had I hissed at the melody of cutting cold as he, freezing snow and whirling ice. Now, as I envisioned him in soft-light fiber and warmth-glowing fabric, I nearly did.

Instead, I touched upon the spiral shell of Mairon’s armor, inch by inch.

Enough work.

I almost say it.

I feel Mairon tense the moment the words soar upon my tongue. I think his bruises, sprains and scars, so carefully withheld beneath his armor, coil.

My own injuries are throbbing as the mountain’s heart pulsates.

On the tip of my tongue I finger two different syllables, then. I taste them, long and probing. They are not familiar between my lips.

Instead, I murmur, “Come.”

Then try, taste, whisper.

“Please.”

As I stroke the sounds, I feel the remnant scars of my wounds squirm and stretch.

Enough work. I had said those words before quite differently.

He had been absorbed in a long list of parchment, winding and dry, just like now, after an endless day of meetings and councils.

War is an ever-hungry machine that constantly must be fed and patted and attended to. Not I but Mairon is its master who keeps it ever roiling and toiling. Its needs are both endless and unending.

There are weaponries to be forged, armor to be hammered. Hosts of Orcs to be commanded, captains to be instructed, recruits to be trained.

Expedient though they are, Orcs make poor comrades in arms. Constantly squabbling, perpetually fighting each other for position or food or simply the lack of distraction or wit, they are ill-made for cooperation and it takes more than a whip to tame them. Fear might control them but it takes more to make them efficient, Mairon often says.

And efficient he makes them. Orcs and goblins have a natural aptitude for battle, their fighting is simple and crude nonetheless, Mairon often also sighed, and the imbeciles end up killing each other before they even learn how to swing an axe in an accurate arch.

Then there is food and rations to be retrieved and organized, routs to scout and news from spies and traitors to be collected and molded into benefits and advantages.

I knew all of this because Mairon had told me, complained to me of these things more often than I wished and, what was worse by far, even made me listen till I was fed up and bored beyond even my unyielding power. Oh, there was relentlessness in him that heeded neither my ostentatious disregard nor my sour mood whenever he pestered me with these trifles. I might have escaped, oh yes, but he would serve me thrice the tales of battlements in need of improvement, insufficient food resources and incompetent Orc armorers designing poorer battering rams when I hungered for the naked sheen of his skin.

I have always thought Mairon mercilessly vindictive beyond even my desire for revenge.

“Your army, my lord, needs attention”, he would say lilting as skittering pearls and with a tone so quizzacious I might seize his throat eventually which would make him laugh and brush the sweetest gasp against my ear.

Once, I sank my teeth into the tender rose-petal softness of his beautiful neck and he moaned softly into me while he enumerated all the little repairs needed for some dispensable outpost in such a shuddering, smile-curving little voice that I, smeared with his gold-liquor blood, considered biting off his tongue. It made his heedless smile curve even wickeder.

There had been always only one way to silence the brazen little creature.

And for a while he writhed and arched beneath me, trembling, mouth and body sealed, only to continue his speech in the fire-gilded afterglow of our bodies, his throbbing flame-heat and shivering legs still around me.

Oh, even my fell cruelty, which I thrust into him, could not match his own.

This time, however, it was different.

I say war is a machine but, in truth, Mairon is the machine that is war.

Like the rings he so loves for their boundless, immaculate symmetry, none of his designs or schemes knew either end or beginning and it was these endless, tedious things in his fingers around which they always snaked like wild adders eternally, perpetually.

And Mairon is just as endless and snaking.

There is no detail to escape his lidless mind’s gaze. No mosaic stone unset, no jigsaw piece uncontemplated. Every piece my and his spies gathered glides between his sizzling fingertips.

Not a single piece of floating ash is unknown to him. No trifling squabble crumbled under his high boots unseen, no minor sentiment of unrest skittered across his path without his notice. He weaves a single-minded Orc’s gripe into his hair when he rises in the crisp morning, he holds an outpost’s trivial failings in his grasp when setting the chisel in his forge and he slides a letter intercepted over his skin when he undresses in the evening.

I call him my little flame, and it delights his curving dagger smile, for he is neither little nor single-tipped flame.

My troops, on the other hand, my Balrocs and generals and captains and Orcs call him the lidless, sleepless, all-seeing eye. I might be the god they serve but one single gush of wind loosening a lone scarlet-gilded, fire-whipping strand of Mairon’s hair sends them scudding and scurrying as ants.

I did not, or barely, notice at first.

So consumed was I that it was only an irksomeness in the beginning before it grated at my attention, more and more.

Always there had been a piece of something on Mairon’s mind, a roll of parchment in his long-fingered hands, a whispered request in his well-shaped ear, another meticulously drawn map, another scouting route worked out, another keen-eyes report at his sharp-angled elbow.

It was as though catching an industrious spider weaving double the nets or spotting the arctic fox growing twice the pristine fur.

And yet.

I say I heeded not the change, at first. Yet, in truth there was something vexing me outside the range of my vision, like a buzzing fly my dragons cannot see yet not quite bait either.

When then, at long last, it woke me out of my razor-riven raptness, it was like a silent shiver running through the earth meeting a mountain, a cresting wave crashing against a sheer cliff of rock after building for weeks.

Ah, I had not known it had been there.

Suddenly, however, my ire raged clear and raw.

“Enough!”

Ah.

My skin prickling as the stagnant air before a storm.

My voice, having sundered heavens and cleaved continents, a lightning bolt lit.

Plans and maps, plans and schemes, schemes, schemes and plans! I had been surge-swelling with them like a river breaking its bed.

My captains and leaders, Orcs and goblins, their heads snapped around to my seat as if I had broken their necks. However, I was no longer seated. Why had I come to this counsel at all, dark creatures in my service startling and groveling? Mairon had stopped dragging me there long ago and I rarely obliged him when he did.

I did not take notice whether it was letter parchment or outline scroll I tore from Mairon’s hands. A shattering on the onyx black floor, I felt myself towering, looming with my mounting rage.

In the breathing space between us, him and me, my body was sparking at the edges.

Never had I, quite unlike Mairon, endeavored to control my wrath, unlike him who could mask the brightest blaze of anger like ash covers the still-glowing embers within.

Instead, I felt my shape rise and my all-seeing vision expand, fraying at the edges, burn with it.

Whatever it was that I tore from him crumbled into smoke and electric sparks under my hands.

And still he would not look at me.

Ah, there it was, the hilt and pike of my sudden temper which I was fingering like my warhammer, Mairon’s steady gaze still, still, still fastened on what he had been reading an instant before, parchment and scrolls and lesser creatures and, oh, everything without even once in weeks upon weeks and months uncounted looking up at me who was his master.

The fortress around us, the raven-black stone floor beneath our feet shivered with a ringing tremor.

I thought ages to pass but, in sooth, Mairon stared at the quivering remnants of what I had just ripped from his hands much longer while my rage sloshed and billowed into vastness.

Then, his gaze flared into mine.

It was as though a ray of morning light hit me, clear and spear-piercing.

His gold-crystal eyes were aflame as a crisp winter’s dawn. This was the only warning I was given.

I saw his transformation only in shreds ere Mairon lashed himself upon me, flame-gleaming fur and blaze-white teeth.

My wrath was sharp enough to wrap us both and Mairon’s teeth even sharper.

Fire cannot consume the mountain but it can sweep across, melt, mold and scar it beyond recognition.

Ah, and scar each other we did in our conflagration.

If any dark creature, Balrog or maggot Orc had been present, they must have fled for no insect lingers to watch whether slashing rains or whipping winds may triumph over the storm.

Had we been lesser beings, we might have easily slain each other.

Instead, the stone-blind walls around us gasped as we fought and parts of Utumno well-nigh collapsed under our rage.

When at last we both sank against opposite walls, the torches shook under our breaths as grass before the scythe.

My anger, however, fled as swiftly as it had come and his surely must have to.

The air tasted of stale smoke and departing thunder.

As we huffed, I expected him to limp toward me. Even lean against me, his inferno fury and my cosmic wilderness abated and washed away by the great tide of our fighting, leaving as brine-raw and satisfied enough to huff and touch each other’s wounds with well-practiced fingers softly and tender lips. I would have licked his wounds, and more, and his lips could have kissed mine till we shook from a different kind of fury and another quake came upon Utumno ere an unsimilar fatigue settled between us, and then we would have finally tended to each other’s injuries in a more lasting way.

What rags of his fine-woven garment had withstood his skin-changing were torn to shreds by me and fell from his bare skin.

Yes. I expected his sly smile dripping mockingly from his slyer lips.

Though rare, it had no been our first fight, after all.

As our breaths pooled in the empty counsel room, I saw Mairon rise to his staggering legs.

Instead, however, he left as abruptly as he had flared, limping.

He strode from my hall, naked, gold licking beneath the glowing soles of his feet, the hue of fire-lit blood in his whipping hair and gleaming skin the only cover to veil his lithe shape.

A single Orc stumbled from behind an onyx-carved column.

It stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And stared.

“Please”

The sounds touch queerly between my lips.

I feel my eyes, one of crystal-frozen ice and one of molten-moving magma, close against the silence of his shadow-hewn chambers.

There has been neither council nor meeting.

We have not talked since.

Mairon moves not.

My vision is obscured by the dusk of my own eyes.

The dancing darkness within me notwithstanding, I know his eyes, perusing the endless lines on the rustling scroll in his slender hands tenaciously, to have stopped, poised, on one spot alone.

Slowly.

Slowly my scarred hands begin to move.

Gradually, I touch upon what has been shaped unerringly by him. Layer by layer. Piece by piece.

I remember not undoing his or any other armor ever before. Haltingly, my fingers find few gold clasps sleeping beneath.

Iron plate and greave slither ceaselessly against each other, harness and chestplate.

I have never tasted, brushed my tongue against this creation among so many of his, immaculate in its deadly beauty as everything he invents.

But what my scorched hands find is not beauty alone.

Inch for inch, I let my scabbed finger pads slide over smooth plates of metal, one after another. Perfectly round circles of twisting iron, dark as night, black as a midnight’s dream. Slender-long gauntlets gliding sleekly against each other without the slightest hitch.

Polished, my charred fingertips find the glossy plates against his stomach.  

Not a nook or cranny on the metal stretching across the small of his back; neither scratch nor scrape beneath my quiet palms straying along his waist, down his iron-veiled flanks.

No plate hugging his legs, no piece of armor whispering, pressing against his thighs ever requires a drop of slick oil. I can feel it underneath my tingling hands. Not one part of metal will ever rub against its brothers nor bear mark or squeak. Like snake scales rising against each other’s fall.

As I wander him, a thought strikes me like a smiling fish in the presence of the diving king-fisher. That even Aulë himself would envy this. It is coiling perfection lured to making. It is usage spelled into fascination.

Another thought strikes my pricking skin, then. It is not what he has worn before.

My realization is another spell woven by the king fisher. When has Mairon created this new armor? It must have taken him an age of life to master it into being.

When did he do it? Where had I been?

But, of course, no beauty for Mairon without purpose.

I think, even Aulë will envy this.

It may be a day, it may be an age eternal till I draw his body against mine. Bare skin to skin.

Under my hands his armor is coming undone like a mountain peak, year by year, age by age.

I allow my gaze to fall on the graceful line of his neck then, note the lustrous strand of fire-lit hair that coiles around it. The smooth heel of his hand, aligned to the scroll, the tips hidden behind the faded yellow. The sharp angle of his left elbow, the serpentine line of his muscled back. The svelte shape of his ear, the cutting line of his jaw. All this, I merely graze with my gaze, light as raven feathers before I let the knuckles on the back of my fingers follow my eyes’ hushed trail.

Beneath, slashes and lacerations like gouges half-knitted, purple bruises and blood-cusped strains, half-healed.

Wroth and savage had been my violence, vicious and cruel his own.

I expect his skin, his body to be fire scolding, a blaze like a hurricane. My touch, however, evanesces upon contact with it as though one wraith reaches for another.

Somethings tugs at me then, strange-shaped and eternally coined.

He does not stir, does not move.

Still, his fire has not blazed my scarred skin. And still, Mairon’s voice of melting steel has not spoken to me.

I might pry into his mind, of course. What futility. Mairon has never given anything he did not offer first.

Last is his hair, bound tightly, wrought infinitely to the lovely shape of his neck. It is not in my nature to hesitate, not once, and like softest silk each flaming strand loosens between my stroking, combing fingers.

At last, my time is come to speak.

My eyes still veiled by the endless darkness of my own lashes, against the warm fall of his hair I lay my lips.

“Precious.” Murmurs. “It is enough.” Whispers, straight and firm. “Even you have an end to your flames. Even you must rest.” Murmers and whispers from my lips.

My darkness, a fortress. ”Even you must not be consumed by one thing alone in this world.”

Mairon stirs not. And yet, I feel it in the jolt of rigid muscles against my naked skin like a bow-string springing back.

I catch the thought he aims albeit he aims it not at me. It is the first time I hear his golden voice ever since I returned.

It is like laughter, only viler.

You are one to talk.

Around his naked waist and chest my hold tightens. In anticipation, perhaps, of another attack, wondering idly what other beastly form he might use, I look forward to whatever claws and teeth he will sink into me this time with a kind of grim satisfaction.

I palpate that almost-thought  of his idly, turn it around in my silent-grown mind seeking out its facets and angles.

His skin is cool silver light upon the parched flesh of my fingers despite the honed flames it shields within.

No beauty for Mairon without a purpose.

There.

Ah.

Here, at last. A morsel of truth.

Slowly. Gradually, I begin to comprehend. And yet, still, I understand not.

Long is the silence stretching between us, infinite as the darkened night sky, dull as the lessened moon shredded in wispy mists.

Slowly. Slowly, my arms’ force increases. Slowly, the hold of my embrace tightens.

Slowly, I force Mairon’s body around. Force him to turn. This is what I do and this is what I try.

Ah. Many are the minds and brains fooled by his appearance. He might shroud his viper shape in a robe of splendid cloth but I have seen the bare stretch of his arms and shoulders bent over the forge, his back straight and straining. The ones he seduces think him fair and beautiful alone, yet I have heard Orc sword masters threaten their fosterlings with Lord Mairon’s lust for challenge. His legs apart, sinews and muscles aglow in the sheen of the furnace. He would not even have to lift the hilt of his sword. Among the recruits, his physical strength is a legend told at night fire watches.

And with all his strength he is fighting me now, ah, what resistance against the strain of my arms around his back and sides, against my will to bind him to me, force his body around to face mine.

Vaguely, I am wondering once more if he will transform again, now, in this instant, to raise the amount of bristle and teeth and claws he can punish me with or if he will simply sink and dig his gilded nails and incandescent teeth into my flesh as he is.

Neither of us is speaking.

But this. This is more a fight of wills rather than a battle of physical force, and this once, this once in our eons of time, my will prevails over his.

I can feel him straining as his ember-honed cheek comes to rest upon my beating pulse. It is like holding a candle to my chest.

I feel the touch of his breath as warm as sun-lit honey on my chest, flecks of gold in it.

All at once, I am unable to remember. This. The wisp of his fiery hair. The width of his smooth brow. The length of his body, flush against mine. Unable. Unable to remember the last time I felt his gold-leaping warmth seep into my storm-cloud skin.

My injuries matter not. Their circling pain is forgotten like morning mists fracturing at the break of dawn. We move not and do not speak. However, this once, I will not let him escape.

Puzzled yet I am. Pondering. Wondering. I, Melkor, confess I fail to grasp his ire fully.

Would he envy another craftsman thus? Ah, I think not. Too proud Mairon is of his own prowess, too confident, too brilliant in his own skill.

Would he resent thus what he deems utter folly? He has stood and endured far greater whims of mine.

I know the fight to have seeped out of him, now. There is only the pooling of warmth, small huffs against my skin.

I am closing my eyes to darkness and stillness again.

Long is the silence stretching between us.

“Do with them as you please.”

At first, Mairon does not move.

Then, against the total blackness of my eyelids, I can see him stir. Rise. His head tilting back. His fire-honed gaze, at last, upon my face.

My hand opens for him.

They cannot burn me any more than their luminous light already has.

As I open my eyes, despite myself, my gaze falls upon them as splashing water from the sky.

Even before my eyelids lift, I know their lovely glow shedding light over my maimed, scorch-darkened hands. I know not whether Mairon’s eyes follow the lust of my eyes, become drawn and ensnared as mine. If not, I can neither examine it nor him.

Even now I cannot part my gaze with them.

If the moon had been carved into thirds in the bejeweled night, none of it, though born from that same radiance, would have glistered like any of them!

One sun-lit and citrine-hued, bright as sun-filled water. Vivid as the very heart of the earth the other, a thousand rubies aflame. The last, a brilliant, ever-shining, ever-pure, dazzling white.

Even now I am mesmerized at the luminosity of the first light, percolated through the incinerated cage of my fingeres.

Even Mairon’s light of fire-drunk gold almost dulled beside them. Almost.

This, maybe, is what makes me realize the flash of Mairon’s hand toward the blinding light.

All of a sudden, through the luminous splendor and breath-taking, sky-rendering incandescence, fear jolts through me like a thunder-spear.

No, I am no stranger to pain, not even to dread, the loathsome spider be cursed and all her descendants, but never has terror such as this seized at my hammering pulse.

The yell, the roar aimed at Mairon ignites in my throat as volcanoes erupt with spilling fire.

Almost as soon as it builds, I huff out a breath of absurd emptiness. Mairon’s supple fingers have gripped the resplendent silmarils long before my anger rushes in. Beneath his skin, like strands of his own hair, silk shimmers between him and the precious jewels.

Of course.

My chest almost tears with swallowed, frayed laughter.

Whatever rules Mairon’s black-sooted heart, greed is not a part of it.

His fiery gaze is thrumming into mine, the long-lashed gold of his eyes never once wavering to the wonders aglow between our hands. I imagine his wrist flick and a burst of radiant light clattering across the onyx floor.

Mairon’s voice is quenched iron, spitting with cooling water, “I shall cast them into the darkest sea, the deepest pit and highest sky.”

The fury of this world grows between us, gathers in the thunder lightning and earth-shading clouds, a fell music of drums and clangs.

It is arduous at first, cruelly laborious, to wretch my craving stare from them.

I can see Mairon’s eyes follow the length of my glance, the direction of my lusting breath.

They are magnificent in their effulgence, entrancing in their beauty, enrapturing in their unfathomable luster.

Long has the silence stretched between us.

Silently, I speak.

So you shall.

Mairon does blink. Now. Once. An eternity. Twice.

Finally, ultimately, I can see his gold-glittering eyes flicker toward the luminescent jewels in his hand, his gaze falling, cast down.

“I shall forge a crown fit for them and you, my lord,” he murmurs, lowly.

No love for the sea, the earth, the skies?, I think

“They are to be set in a crown by my hands already.” I speak aloud.

There it is, the sneer.

“It is like calling the elven child hoarding heaps of sand an architect.” Mairon returns, slyly as a minx.

Insolent creature, I think, letting the words flutter soft as lashes against his smile-honing lips.

“Not tonight,” I hum, drawing him closer still, pressing against his curving lips, “Tonight you are mine.”

I think, tonight I am yours alone.

Mairon’s limber shoulders rise as he lifts his hands to lay them along my face, his willowy fingers astir, roaming through my hair where there are caught the colors of the night and the light of fading stars. The light in his eyes is enough to blind and scar the whole world and everything that comes after.

They say I am merciless and proud, cruel and pitiless, tyrannical and spiteful, enviously, greedily, recklessly selfish beyond imagination. They call me Master of Lies, Great Death, Black Foe of the World. I feel giddy with delight when I think of it. It is all true.

Let them not see what else I am.

He, whom they call Sauron, whispers into my ear, his arched fingers woven into my shadow hair, his graceful limbs, the length of his pressing body pouring sun-lit heat into mine of melting ice and frozen stone, the smiling cheek of his lips thawing against my ear.

“You have yet to say ‘please’, my lord.”

[p1ctur3]

Can't believe it has been a full year since I starting posting AvA/M fanart

so I redrew my first piece of fanart :]

[kitkatopinions]

The thing about RWBY volume 10 is... I don't even want it anymore.

Like, when it was first announced that Rooster Teeth was shutting down, I admit that although I was very happy that the company could no longer abuse its employees, I was still kind of disappointed that we might not get more RWBY. Yes, I kind of hate RWBY (I hate and love it,) but I personally never was out to 'destroy the show' or something, and I legit wanted to see where they were going with it and to see what I could get from it.

But it's been a while since then, and I feel like every time I even get a hint that RWBY might be coming back for season 10, my reaction is:

Because the thing is, I know - I just know - that whatever they decide to do is going to be bad and near incomprehensible. But even if they somehow sort of manage to make the next volume somewhat good... There's literally no way to salvage the show without an entire reboot with all new writers, and I truly believe that at this point. I watched all of volumes 1-5 for the first time practically in one setting, and boy the whole thing had some rough parts, but I thought they had a chance to come back stronger and try to fix things, and then every season since, I've thought the same and have come up with tons of things they could do and all the good directions they could take characters and events. But it's been nine seasons, and season nine was the worst written season yet and really just gave the writers a whole host of new problems they have to address and new corners they've backed themselves into and at a certain point and after V9, there's just no fixing it because after nine seasons, it would feel weird to backtrack and there's nothing they could do going forward that would fix this bad show.

To bring up a minor example, if they made a new season where they acknowledged that Blake and Ruby have barely talked since the first season, it would retroactively make the 'you inspire me' 'meaningful moment' in volume eight feel really weird, and it would be really weird that they were only starting to be friends in the tenth volume after more than a decade. But if the writers continue to write the occasional 'meaningful moment' between Blake and Ruby without actually trying to establish a friendship and bond between them, it'll continue to feel forced and unearned, and if they're written to just ignore each other completely instead, it'll continue to feel like they don't even really know each other and aren't at all friends, and therefore the show constantly being like 'Ruby's friends love her, they have the power of friendship, I'll defeat you with the power of friendship and this gun I found' will ring hollow when what's being marketed as a team of four feels like two people dating and then also two other people who walk near them that are friends with each other.

They're literally in lose-lose conditions of their own making.

And last season, I remember repeatedly saying that there were some good concepts and moments here and there, but by the last episode, anything that had been good had pretty much been ruined. Neo? Ruined. Ruby's season 9 journey? Ruined. The Curious Cat as a concept? Ruined. All the theories I had about how the Ever After could have tied back into the plot somehow? Completely untrue. The lessons I thought there was the slightest chance of the characters coming away with? Wiped out entirely. The somewhat interesting ramifications we could get from what had happened to Jaune? Removed. The possibility of changes to character design even? It came to nothing. I have no faith that the new season will be able to fix things especially because the writers don't seem to want to fix anything, or even pay that much attention to what they're writing, so even minor good things can easily stop mattering or turn terrible just like with the entirety of volume nine. I was full on invested in Ruby's journey, only for it to be essentially brushed aside with no real consequences and seemingly no impact for the characters.

If there's a new season of RWBY that eventually comes along - a very big if - I'll probably still watch it. But honestly at this point, I hope they just leave it unfinished or reboot completely. Because I'm sure that everything I'm coming up with as a 'where from here' concept that isn't even good because I don't think a good story can be salvaged after V9... Whatever I do come up with is going to be better than what we'd actually get, and I'm actually sure that's true most of us and even megastans.

I feel like I would rather have an unfinished badly made work that I can imagine might have at least some semblance of a halfway satisfying conclusion then wind up following this project to the end on a hope and a prayer despite knowing I'd wind up even more frustrated and disappointed, because at this point I know I'm just gonna be disappointed. I literally feel like the best thing the current writers attached to RWBY could do is let the RWBY fans imagine up their own ends.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

BFSS vs. MYATB

I had some Thoughts(TM) after finishing “Blooming Flowers, Silent Sorrow” and thought I’d put them out into the universe.

I’m definitely glad that I read the book and plan to start “Jinbao Marries a Wife” after the extra episodes air. That being said, this is nevertheless one of the rare occasions where I actually preferred the show to the novel. I have already rewatched the series more times than I care to admit publicly, but I don’t really see myself reading the book again unless an official English translation is released to see the approved wording and whether anything was left out of the translation I read.

For anyone who plans to read and wants to avoid spoilers, I’ll hide the rest below the cut. If you loved the book, no worries—this won’t be a negative review!

The Story

I’m extremely impressed that the story is basically the same and, in parts where it isn’t, maintains full fidelity to the original plot and characters. Like MDZS and The Untamed, there were some plot points that got shuffled around in order to suit the medium of television rather than written narrative—and only twelve episodes of television, at that—but it didn’t alter the essence of the story or even the overarching plot at all. Some events were consolidated where it made sense (ex., finding Zongzheng Yuzhan’s dahlia and escaping with Xiaoyu), and others were fragmented in a manner that allowed us more time to get to know the characters (ex., Xiaobao delivering the medicine and their intimate moment in episode three being at two different times). Even Xiaobao’s illness, which was shortened to the spring rather than the following autumn, was still written and portrayed in such a way that you really felt the passage of time and how excruciating it could be when finding the dahlias before their window passed was at the fore of everyone’s minds.

There are a few points, however, where I feel like the show was able to add something to the narrative that I found I missed when reading the book, while I didn’t encounter anything while reading that I really wished had made it into the show. To be honest, given how few episodes they had to tell this story and how important pacing was as a result, that really surprised me. Here are some things that come to mind:

Toning down the non-con elements. While the show depicts those moments as almost more of a non-con initiation transforming into something more tacitly consensual as it progressed (or dubious consent due to drinking or drugging), the book really stuck to the non-con focus of their interactions. I was surprised how long it remained that way, as well as how much more Huai’en pushed it by trying to initiate things after the betrayal and poisoning. I know a lot of that is due to the medium—in a show of this nature, I’d have been more surprised if they’d kept it the same. It’s just something I preferred about how it was depicted in the show and felt made the romance a little more believable as it evolved so quickly.

More conversations between Xiaobao and Huai’en. As with the last point, it made the budding romance more believable for me, not to mention adding that extra bit of heartbreak when Huai’en betrayed Xiaobao. In the book, he doesn’t mention anything about his family history or his father after Jin Bao’s asthma crisis; much of what Xiaobao learns about Huai’en doesn’t come up until the latter is already gone. Sharing the truths (or what Huai’en thought were the truths) of his past added to the half-truths of what he’s doing in Jiangnan created a much deeper sense of manipulation for me and added to the weight of both what he does in episode six as well as how he still tries to keep the Jins alive in the aftermath.

The overall character growth. I’ll put more on this in the characters section, but I was left feeling a little disappointed at the end of the book in a way I wasn’t when I finished the show. It’s not that the growth was bad or missing, just that it didn’t feel as deep as the show for me. At the end of MYATB, Xiaobao is more mature and mindful of what his family needs and his own responsibilities in making that happen; in BFSS, he’s mostly acting like a young master again, gallivanting around with Huai’en and bemoaning how useless he can be. In MYATB, Huai’en grows to care about more than just Xiaobao, even though Xiaobao is still his true north; in BFSS, he’s seriously considering killing Xiaoyu out of jealousy in the last few chapters while rescuing her. In MYATB, Su Yin is angry at the situation, not with Xiaobao, and eventually comes to terms with the idea that Xiaobao has matured and can be trusted to make his own choices; in BFSS, we don’t really see the closure to that disagreement, which was one of my favorite scenes in the finale. Again, nothing wrong with how the book portrayed things, but I felt there was a certain growth in these characters in the show that I’d have liked to see mirrored there.

Xue Tong’en’s ubiquitous presence. She’s startlingly absent in the book while her presence in the show seems to be the backdrop to everything. Zongzheng Yuzhan’s obsession and even madness are palpable in the show, and his strange hatred for yet attachment to Huai’en is especially moving. All of that was absent in the book except for a couple of mentions in the overall narration and Zongzheng Yuzhan’s unwillingness to relinquish Xiaoyu. I just didn’t feel it like I did while watching MYATB.

Their strange but heartwarming little found family. My jaw dropped to see Zuoying and Youying peace out during the final battle, leaving Huai’en to fend for himself, and Zhaocai have an off-screen love interest he was determined to marry before he, too, caught a case of bisexuality. (His sentiment, not mine.) No tearful farewells after a year of huddling together for survival? No beautiful little scene of Huai’en’s two shadows keeping him alive until help arrived? No Zhaocai-Xiaoyu tag-teaming to interrupt Xiaobao and Huai’en at every turn? Don’t get me wrong—the two of them going off on their romantic road-tripping was satisfying, but… Well, as someone who sees platonic and romantic relationships as equally important, I was a little sad to see that it’s just…them.

First, the raid; next, the cure. Having Xiaobao’s remedy come last made Huai’en’s journey feel like there were higher stakes for me. In the book, it’s like tying up a loose end—“bring back Xiaoyu, and I’ll fully forgive you.” In the show, Huai’en gets to see what’s at stake and can make the conscious decision to inconvenience and further endanger himself by taking Xiaoyu away. He knows Xiaobao still loves him and has to just sit there helplessly while he continues to go through episodes that leave him unconscious for hours or days; he has to leave without saying goodbye, with no prompting from Xiaobao to bring Xiaoyu back or ultimatums on his forgiveness. And if he failed? In the show, that’s it for Xiaobao; in the book, it’s just whether his sister comes home, which Huai’en isn’t as bothered about even if he’s willing to die for it. For me, it read as a little more…transactional in the novel, so it wasn’t quite as emotionally stirring. Plus, waiting until later to heal Xiaobao meant Su Yin and Huai’en had to work together after everything that happened between them, which may have gone a long way towards that reconciliation I mentioned.

Li Gongxiang. …That’s it. ‘Nuff said.

All the little things that made the characters more real. Obviously, visual mediums are going to fill in personalities in ways that written narratives can’t, but MYATB did so in such a way that I deeply missed those details when they weren’t there. Zhaocai and Jinbao’s odd sleeping arrangements. Xiaobao and the dancer…and the guy in the restaurant… Shaoyu coming back to stake his claim only to get out-bratted by Xiaobao. Youying royally screwing up and putting the Jins on alert, necessitating an in-universe convoluted plot to make it seem like a random jianghu misunderstanding. None of it was necessary, no, but it was fun and made me care more about the characters as I watched. The only moment like this in the book that really stood out to me was Su Yin tickling Xiaobao into submission, which was honestly amazing. In any case, adding depth to the supporting characters that wasn’t there in the book added more to the main characters as well, so I missed those small details as I read.

The Characters

I know it seems like I covered that already, but there were a couple of specifics that really stood out to me regarding character choices and personalities in the book compared to the show. As with the story, there wasn’t much I felt hadn’t been incorporated from the book, while there were elements from the show that I did miss seeing as I read. Overall, I thought the show did a fantastic job of taking who the characters were on a fundamental level in the book and enhancing them with certain narrative choices.

Huai’en: I am unspeakably grateful for whoever decided to age him up to 20. It facilitated the conversations he had with Xiaobao that deepened their relationship and made the romance more believable. With that added maturity, his cold manipulation makes a lot of sense for his character rather than the angry and violent outbursts that the teenage Huai’en in the book was prone to. Even in MYATB, Huai’en experienced a few of those, but they only came at pivotal moments and, as a result, had more meaning to me. (Note: not morally right, but still meaningful.) On another note, I was mourning the loss of his scene with the emperor as I read. The majority was still there, namely the blood test, dahlia, and refusing his title. However, exonerating the Jins was a huge moment that contributed to his reconciliation with Xiaobao and their ability to live happily later. For me, it was more moving to see him take that initiative in the show rather than have it offered to him as an incentive for providing information that could free Prince Shen later in the book.

Xiaobao: …It’s the word “lecherous.” I just can’t get past it! In the show, we’re made aware that he’s frequented brothels in the past, and no further details are given. His attempts to woo “Miss Zheng” are slightly sleazy, but they hardly count as “lecherous,” which I really liked. It’s more of a wide-eyed “she could kick my ass in any context and I’d thank her for it” situation than…well, “lecherous.” (Nope, still can’t get past it even when I use it.) With an aged-up Huai’en, I think that having Xiaobao be more of an adorable wannabe player matched a bit better. He was still that way in the book, but the sexual element was a lot more prevalent (namely trying to switch positions), while MYATB moved him past that very quickly.

Su Yin: As I mentioned above, I really mourned the loss of their closure. In the show, we see a Su Yin who goes through hell trying to avenge Xiaobao only to learn that he needs to take a step back and trust that Xiaobao can take care of himself. He isn’t that same spoiled young master who needs Su Yin to constantly come to his rescue anymore by the end, and Su Yin has seen Huai’en’s sincerity even if he will never be able to forgive Huai’en’s indiscretions himself. Su Yin is very similar in much of the book, but I felt that their roads diverged some after Xiaobao went to warn Huai’en about the trap at Chifeng Cliff. In BFSS, we never really see him get over that, and his anger is truly at Xiaobao—he even insults him multiple times. MYATB shows it as concern with Xiaobao’s self-esteem and seeming willingness to degrade himself, shortly followed by understanding and acceptance, however hesitant. I loved that growth for both Su Yin and their relationship, so I was quite disappointed that it wasn’t the same in the book.

Que Siming: This was a case where expectations didn’t meet reality. I’d heard from people who read the book how he was the only one rooting for Huai’en and Xiaobao, but…that wasn’t entirely the vibe I got. It was still there, as it was in the show, but perhaps it was his personality that made it a bit difficult to see. In the show, Que Siming is eccentric, self-serving, and arrogant. However, there are moments when he displays genuine emotion towards Xiaobao’s suffering and Huai’en’s fate that show he really does care, even if his taste for gossip outweighs most other things a lot of the time. In the book, he was mostly just mean. The self-serving arrogance was there, but I didn’t really see much else. It could have been lost in translation, and I’m sure I’ll have a better grasp of him after “Jinbao Marries a Wife,” but on the whole I was left feeling like he was one of the only characters who was extremely different and far more likable in the show. Props to Kou Weilong!

Xiaoyu: She is one of the other characters who felt extremely different between the two mediums, and I vastly prefer the show’s version. In the book, Xiaoyu almost didn’t even seem like a kid of only about ten. Her dialogue read like a young woman, and I have to agree with the book version of Huai’en that her feelings about Xiaobao were…uh…wow. I definitely preferred Su Yin alluding to a marriage as merely a parting shot at Huai’en. Of course, the context is important: in the book, the Jins already decided Xiaoyu would run the family business, and she was also aware of what had happened to the Xues and that she wasn’t actually a Jin. In those circumstances, it makes sense that she would have been groomed to consider this eventuality without much thought given to their brother-sister relationship beyond just always being together. Still, uh…very glad they didn’t go that route. It also meant she could be more of a child in MYATB and wage a war for Xiaobao’s attention against Huai’en without that loaded underlying meaning.

Zongzheng Yuzhan: In MYATB, he seems to have gotten an upgrade. Even more than just being an oftentimes off-screen, absentee antagonist, he was a character foil for Huai’en. We are meant to see that Huai’en’s understanding of love is twisted, as Li Gongxiang said, because his only example is his foster father’s obsessive and possessive form of love. What makes Zongzheng Yuzhan monstrous is that he can’t change. What makes Huai’en human is that he can. He could have been a monster—a beast, as Xiaobao calls him in the book multiple times—but he takes a different road. That road leads to direct conflict with Zongzheng Yuzhan and emphasizes their differences in a dramatic and captivating way. In the book, that conflict really isn’t there. Zongzheng Yuzhan very easily lets go of Huai’en being Zongzheng Yunlian’s son and urges him to be free until he comes back for Xiaoyu. Perhaps that’s the Zongzheng Yuzhan we’d have seen if Huai’en had visited him in prison, but that steady escalation of their differences until it reached a boiling point made the stakes in the second half of the show that much more impactful for me.

In all, I enjoyed BFSS. It was worth reading and did add a lot of insight into certain scenes that couldn’t possibly include dialogue, especially Xiaobao’s thoughts during poison episodes and his quieter moments as Huai’en insisted on proving what a joke Su Yin’s security was to him. (I’m imagining Su Yin with a clown nose and wig asking, “Am I a joke to you?” Yes. Yes, you are. But I love you anyway.)

Perhaps I’d feel a little differently if I’d read the book before watching the show. Having gone the opposite direction, though, I’m left astounded at how well MYATB took a book with over a hundred chapters, adapted it for the screen, enhanced both the plot and characters, and told the story in twelve episodes with time to spare for an extra fluffy epilogue. There was a lot of love put into the show, and while I did enjoy the book, that may have made all the difference for me.

[verstappen100]

x

[gauntletqueen]

I'm known to be honest. To a fault, some would say, but only logically, not emotionally. Without even realising it, I usually put up a front of sorts, appearing perfectly happy and content. It's not so much that I lie about how I feel, it's moreso that I can't get myself to talk about my emotions in the first place. It makes me feel really awful. I'm taking this time to be truly honest about how I feel and who I am.

I'm afraid of a lot of things. That most of my friends secretly don't care about me and only humor me because the alternative is too much of a hassle. That I'll never actually be happy with who I am, no matter how many positive changes I make to myself. That people will realise I'm not anything special, that so many people in my spheres are a better alternative to me, that what little I've managed to accomplish in my continuous car crash of a life amounts to nothing. That my years of professional education, self-taught skills and dreams of becoming an artist really have been wasted. That I'm undeserving and even incapable of real romantic love. That, by being honest about all this, I'll drive people away.

Most of all I'm afraid of the relentless march of time. That all of my bad choices, failures, wasted opportunities, fears and losses are constantly compounding. The terrifying prospect of living in a world that keeps getting worse, that as time goes by, the people in whom I find the most comfort will be taken from me. That my chances to live my life in a way I can be happy with are slipping away.

And I feel ungrateful. I'm told I'm loved, that I matter and that I do have a positive impact on the lives of others. People tell me they love what I do, that they look up to me, feel inspired. They put me on a pedestal, think me unapproachable. It makes me angry how wrong that feels. My self esteem is so bad I can't imagine a world in which these people aren't wrong for this. I know their feelings are valid, I know I should just be happy with their compliments, but it's like I'm an outsider in my own mind, desperately clawing at the windows and screaming to stop being so stubborn, so sad, so self-destructive.

I've often talked about wanting, needing to be a robot. For gender euphoria, of course, and to be rid of the need to eat and sleep, and chronic illness. But it goes deeper. I want to be something other entirely, somewhere else entirely. Something disconnected from this hellish existence where I'm constantly fighting myself in every way. Something not bound by the ticking clock of a biological life, or the crushing fear of a monotonous, unfulfilled everyday existence. Free to just be, without a lifetime of dreams and worries, stretching both back and forward in time. Maybe I want to be nothing at all.

I don't know if this makes sense. I just wrote it down. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading.

[mysticalcats]

ok fellas this post is really different from my other stuff so i'm putting it under the cut for people who don't care and also because i'm slightly embarrassed

ok so. is it unusual for a girl to want to have a deep voice and a flat chest and a more square face and also feel slightly jealous of men and want to sound like them and look like them

and also is it unusual to want to be all that, but also simultaneously not be very bothered very much by how you look right now or by being referred to with she/her except for sometimes when you think about it too much. because i usually don't think about it except for sometimes where i suddenly just get really sad about being a girl or i'll always have this faint feeling that i am just unhappy about it

and also is it unusual to try to ignore it and go about your life being unbothered by it even though deep down it does kinda bother you but you can't really. like. say anything to anyone because your family won't react well and neither will your friends because they'll think it's weird and uncomfortable. i feel afraid to ever feel this way because i know the people in my life won't react well to it

so like. genuine question please lmk wtf is goin on because i'm unsure if it's normal and i've felt like this for a long time and it's confusing me and i don't even know what i'm going to do with the information once i know i'm just sort of lost LMAO

[hangryyeena]

SquidgeWorld refusing to even talk about Palestine and other genocides happening because "this a fandom space" is wild and severely disappointing

[catflowerqueen]

You know what? I’ll just go ahead and outline my thoughts on why I think getting called “her father’s daughter” could be a potentially devastating insult for someone—likely an enemy—to call Earth.

Again: This is not me saying I think any of this is necessarily true of her character, just that recent events and how certain actions she’s been taking lately could be seen, especially from an outsider’s or enemy’s perspective (at least—her actions given what I’ve gleaned from summaries and what others have said about what’s been going down).

The Creator takes a forcible approach to changing things to fit the worldview he desires. And when people no longer fit that worldview? When the façade cracks and people refuse to play along with his vision? He disavows them. Throws them away.

And… what did Earth do to Nexus? Before they even directly attacked her, and it was completely reasonable of her to feel the need to step back a bit since her actual life was now in danger?

She disavowed them. She threw them away.

Nexus was too caught up in their grief and their very real problems, was no longer being the doting older sibling, said a few mean things about her not being a real therapist—which she’d already said early on that she didn’t even want for that to be her role in the family, before going back on that for some reason later on—and was no longer playing the role she wanted and was used to. Nexus was no longer in a stable headspace to clean up everyone’s messes, and was, apparently, supposed to be “more mature” than Lunar when it came to dealing with trauma and people who hurt them, their family, and trillions of uninvolved innocents—even though Nexus has never had their very real traumas addressed or given aid for or had the chance to heal the way the rest of their siblings have—so when they finally, inevitably broke under the grief and pressure?

Earth didn’t like that, and went by the Creator’s example of dropping the façade of care and throwing them away. And then immediately switching her attention over to something supposedly "better" in the current iteration of Moon.

…Though, at least she was different in that, at one time, she did care about Nexus, while the Creator never cared about her. But that also just might make the pain worse. Because it is one thing to learn that you were never loved at all, and the whole thing was just a lie or a mask someone was using to get what they wanted. To learn that you were always just a tool, or a means to an end.

It is another thing entirely to learn that the love existed, but was shallow and conditional and depended on you lying and putting on a pleasant mask that hid your pain. A mask that only you needed to wear—because your position has always been the scapegoat, and everyone else was already good enough/fulfilled enough in their assigned roles to never even ponder stepping out of them to see if they would be happier doing something different/their assigned roles included messing up and making mistakes or acting "childish" or "spoiled" as a matter of course.

And, on the note of assigned roles…honestly, as others have said, Nexus never should have been considered the older brother to begin with—to any of their siblings—since they were younger than her. And younger than Lunar, by certain metrics, since even though Lunar technically was “reborn,” they didn’t have to contend with any memory gaps and just picked right back up where they left off. To the point that it could be argued they didn’t even “die” so much as just get put in a coma for a long time, especially with how nanomachines were and are implied to work in the TSAMS universe.

…Anyways…

This ended up a bit harsher toward Earth than I’d intended (probably because I decided to stay up and write this after I should have been in bed and asleep), and is probably meaner toward her character than she actually deserves… But, as I said, this is an exploration of why calling Earth "her father's daughter" would be the sort of insult an enemy would sling at her. One of the ones who like to pick at sore spots, use psychological torment, and twist things like memories and actions around to make them appear more sinister than they were in reality.

Do I think Earth reacted badly, and should have handled the situation better? Especially since she had tried to put herself in the role of a therapist? Absolutely I do. Do I think there was any sort of “evil machinations” or deeper meaning behind her actions on par with why the Creator tried to uphold that genial façade for so long? Absolutely not.

I genuinely think she was just overreacting/mishandled the situation/lashed out in her own sense of anger and sadness, and is now just doubling down with how crazy things have still been for her family lately. Especially now that there is a “new” Moon to deal with and Nexus is both out of sight and out of mind... as well as possibly genuinely out of her reach, both physically and emotionally. And she also might not want to reconcile given the whole “they almost killed me” thing. Which… yeah, after that point it is fair that she would be upset and angry and want some physical distance, and I wouldn't blame her for not forgiving Nexus for that specific thing.

It would have been fair for her to want some physical distance after their earlier harsh words, too… it’s just that isn’t what she said she was doing. Had she said/expressed by her actions something to the tune of “I need to take a step back from this for my own mental health so I can have some space to process,” it would have been fine. But she didn’t. She and Lunar immediately jumped to what was essentially disownment, and then didn’t clarify in the next lore video that those were just the harsh words they were saying in the heat of the moment and that what they really meant was they were upset and needed their own mental health breaks/weren't equipped to deal with the severity of the situation.

…Honestly, though, with Lunar it hurts… not exactly less, but at least in a different way when it comes to how they handled things, because they’d always been combative toward Nexus. The only time I remember them genuinely expressing concern or love for them as a sibling was after the daycare got exploded thanks to Ruin during the second October takeover--and that wasn't even expressed directly to Nexus--and then when Nexus and Sun found their way back. Yes, they did run immediately for a hug from Nexus after being rebuilt and getting rescued by Puppet… but then they immediately admitted it was because they’d briefly forgotten that Nexus was “New Moon,” not the original one.

So while their reaction to this entire situation was and is still massively disappointing, I can’t really say it was too out of character for them. At least not the same way it was coming from Earth.

…Hope this made at least some sort of sense.

[simple-persica]

This election is stressing me tf out more than I thought it would and dammit, I wish my computer wasn’t absolute dog bc the way I’d love to do a stream so we could all just ignore it for a bit and have fun.

I still wanna do something though…I’m gonna dig through some drawing memes/challenges to do requests like the good ol’ days

[perlen-gold]

Get to know your Mutuals

Hiiii 💞 since I've found so many new lovely mutuals here I've created a little tag game (which as been around for ages) ^///^

This kinda got out of control... uh-oh.

Indulge me, will you? 🤗

What's the origin of your blog's title? It's a quote by Oscar Wilde :D

Favorite Fandoms: Dragon Age, The Silmarillion/The Lord of the Rings,

OTP(s) + shipname: Fenrisxm!Hawke (fenhawke) Melkor x Mairon (angbang) Thor x Loki (thorki)

Favorite color: Purple, purple and purple!

Favorite game: Dragon Age and Fatal Frame x3

Song stuck in your head: Elrond's council (but it's a musical) XDDD by Elf Tale Films on Youtube 😆

Weirdest habit/trait? Oh gosh, I'm made out of NOTHING but weird traits... but I guess the weirdest is that I must correct every spelling/grammar mistake I hear/read in both English and German? (I happen to write maaany typos on my phone so that's really exhausting!) Or that I explain maths even to the most reluctant and math-hating people without their permission and despite their explicit orders to "stop right now!!!"?! Or that I run in gallopping archs like a (crazy) horse around my apartment when writing? Or.... 😭

Hobbies: Writing, belly dancing and playing the violin. Very inexpertly so.

If you work, what's your profession? I wanted to become a professional torturer but my parents said no, so I chose the next best thing and became a teacher.

If you could have any job you wish what would it be? A teacher. (I'm pathetic.) I'd teach Math, English and German literature. (Which I do.) And physics. (Which I don't.)

So sad. Also, living the dreeeeam!!! 🎸🎸🎸

Something you're good at: Losing at MarioKart, being notoriously unpunctual and math. Also, I can read really fast xP

Something you're bad at: Remembering things... or names... or appointments... or anything. Also, sharing or talking about my writing.

Something you excel at: Creating chaos and overworry about my writing. Or anything else, really. Also, I'm a REALLY fast reader! 😜🤪😝

Something you love: Literature, books, my students, my family, my cat, and books and literature! 📚💗

Something you could talk about for hours without off the cuff: Literature/books, Dragon Age, my students, my original novel (with many pauses inbetween since, like I said, I'm also bad at talking about my own writing)

Something you hate: Arrogancy, bullying and olives. Oh, and strawberries.

Something you collect: Books and blunders.

Something you forget: Everything. Except my own name. At least I hope so.

What's your love language? Terrible, ironic, biting sarcasm. And movie/literature quotes.

Favorite movie/show: Alien by Ridley Scott <3

Favorite food: Pizza, ramen and pasta of all kinds x3

Favorite animal: Horses and leopards, roarrr! 🐎🐆

Are you musical? I do play the violin and sing. Having said that, I should add that I'm not very musical, after all...

What were you like as a child? Both shy and bold AND an insufferable know-it-all! 😏

Favorite subject at school? Maths <3 (you may hate me, now)

Least favorite subject? Geography, religious education and PE

What's your best character trait? Er, I'm a good friend in need (at least I think so XD)

What's your worst character trait? Perfectionism??? Oh wait, I think I can express this in a more refined way, let me try that again...

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? If I'd be in charge, you'd be all fucking freezing to death while I frolick happily in the snow and bring another brain concussion upon myself by my clumsy ice-skating skills! Winter would be SO fucking cold and SO magnificent you'd all hate me for it!!! ❄️☃️🥶

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Wolfgang Goethe (yes, I omitted the "von", in your face, dude!) and Agatha Christie x3

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!):

In Absentia by AwkwardAnnie (Angbang)

Lunch in Thedas by Kaerwrites (Fenhawke)

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go by TheAngryKimchi (Thorki)

Last but not least, show your favorite fanart of your favorite character(s) (please remember to credit/add links!):

(sorry for the flood!)

Mairon by Krabat

Melkor and Mairon by Krabat

Fenris by raviollies

Fenhawke by Marikdraw (original link does no longer exist ;_;)

✨Tagging @saintstars @gracefallingart @gauntletgirlie @melkor-did-nothing-wrong @sauron-kraut @althanair @privatebooth @just-an-elf-with-the-socks @trash-ainu @winds-of-zephyr416 @barbex @aidanthecryptid @teine-mallaichte @pinkfadespirit @spicywarl0ck @jiangwanyeehaw @booksinwinter @midnottart @maironscrotchlessbreeches @melkorwashere @melkors-defense-attorney @trash-ainuand @elronds-library @teine-mallaichte @thorkidorki @theangrykimchi and @glowing-blue-feathermage ✨

... and everyone else, of course, who feels like playing ❣️

As always, NO PRESSURE, just fun, my friends! <3