#not even for the aesthetic of it‚ it literally covered and entire side of the garden perimeter right next to the outside table
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bitseventimes · 2 years ago
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we used to have a beautiful wisteria plant growing on a whole side of our garden and arching over the entryway, must've been several decades old, judging by the size of it, it was big and colorful and had a gorgeous scent. a few summers back I got home to find out my family had cut it down and I was immediately in despair, completely destroyed.
now every spring I watch all the wisterias in my neighborhood bloom and think I know how it feels to lose a limb
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hypnagogics · 4 months ago
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Bro I literally eat up ur writing every time😭can u do ellie using a vibe on u?
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before you read.
☆: KILLING 3 BIRDS W ONE STONE HEHE. i feel these all go well, so why not. sorry for the insane wait, and the wildly lazy writing...me putting this off forever only to bang out a crappy blurb in like 2 mins...also can't stick to a single aesthetic WHATEVA.
◇: vibrator use, fingering, porn w/out plot (sawry), dom-ish ellie (but she's still kinda silly), overstimulation, squirting, aftercare at the end (all r! recieving).
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"you can take it, doin' so good." she murmurs under her breath, her face contorted in concentration.
you squeal when ellie presses the vibrator hard against your poor, overworked clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. but no matter how overwhelming it may be, it's still so mind numbingly good. the device has been set on a mode midway for the past...however long, and you've completely lost count of how many times she's made you cum thus far. for all you knew, it could have been well into the double digits, and she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.
ellie’s eyes were dark, low with blown out pupils. they remain trained on you, flickering between observing your facial expressions, your squirming body, covered in a shiny layer of sweat, and what's going on under her hands. "...ellie, hold on...wait." you gasp out, struggling to catch your breath.
she detaches the device from you, her tattooed hand traveling up your body, settling on the side of your face to cup your cheek, and wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye. "need a break, babe?" she says, her gaze softening. that honey voice she puts on, featuring a light domineering timbre, it immediately makes you wet all over again and you whimper quietly, bucking your hips up in pursuit of more stimulation. she notices—of course she does, observant as a fox—and her lips stretch into a sneer, "yeah that's what i thought, still need more." she chuckles, before thrusting the tip of the toy back onto your swollen clit, biting her lip when she watches you arch backward, mantras of her name and pleas falling from your lips.
her free hand, which was previously resting on your knee, flies down the inside of your parted thighs, grazing the heated skin, and she teases your hole with two digits, eagerly observing the reactions. she quickly stuffs her middle two fingers inside with ease, slick and pearly cum leaking down her slender knuckles. curling upwards to massage your g-spot, the pleasure is causing explosions of colors to appear in your vision, your eyes are filling with tears once again.
"just gimme one more, okay?" ellie orders gently, clicking buttons to increase the intensity of the vibrator even more, and you nearly shriek. out of instinct your legs fight to close around her hands, but she's quick to push your knee to the side again, tutting. "nuh-uh, don't do that. just one more. say the safeword if you really want me to stop, alright?" you open one eye and nod meekly at her, and she resumes. within no time at all you feel the brink of orgasm swell in your lower abdomen once more, your legs trembling at every purr of the toy. and she can tell as well by the way you're whining and panting, all with a fucked out, lazy smile playing on your face.
silent moans trapped in your throat, you feel the blinding ecstasy overtake your body, blacking out your senses for a moment. she has lessened the setting to work you through it effectively, all while muttering sweet praises throughout.
"god, look at that." she whispers in awe once it's over, discarding the device on the floor and rubbing her hands across your legs to ease the tension in your thighs, making sure you're okay. she hovers over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then over your entire face, grinning when she hears you laugh.
her goofy tone returns, "fuckin' squirted all over me, baby. we'll clean up just gimme a sec." she cuddles up to you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck, sighing and softly stroking the top of your head. "next time we'll do a couple more, make a new personal best, whaddaya think?"
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tags (idk why some didn’t work): @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @lanabaezzzz
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yandere-romanticaa · 28 days ago
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˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜.
❝ heaven is my baby, suicide's her father, opulence is the end. ��� - lana del rey.
various! yandere! honkai star rail men on how they claim you ~
🎀 I just wanted to make a little post which features my favorite male HSR characters lolz. Also, there's zero reason why I picked the song for the title other than the fact that it is for the ✨ aesthetic ✨!
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❥ 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 !
What better way than to leave a mark on his beloved than by his mere presence alone? Jing Yuan is a simple man in his core, even if his tactical nature or even mischievous side can get carried away at times, The General is all too aware of his influence on the Lofu.
The sun could stop shining, the sky could fall and darkness could envelop the whole galaxy but not even that could erase the impact that Jing Yuan has left on you.
Wandering eyes follow you everywhere you go, quaint whispers have become a daily occurrence for you as the entirety of the Lofu knows who you lover is. Some praise and envy your position as The General is known to be handsome, kind and strong. They secretly spit at you and curse your very existence, nasty jealousy rotting them to their core as you march on like a solider to war, aimless and uncertain.
There is also of course the opposite end of the spectrum - adoring fans who just gush about your so called relationship with the dashing general. Hours are wasted scrolling away on your phone as you browse through the endless sea of lovey dovey articles, pictures taken you weren't even aware of that existed, and a plethora of other things you could even bother to remember.
All he needed to do was to just give you a nice golden collar to seal the deal. At least that would be the more obvious way of him trying to brand you as his own sweetheart.
He had his own little secret though. A velvet box was kept hidden away in his desk, ready to be opened on a special occasion.
Depending on how you got on with the general in the future, the little thing in the box was either going to make you the happiest person in the world or, he really would finally shackle you with gold.
❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 !
Sunday, ever the gentleman, would try to remain subtle about his feelings towards you in public. There are just some things that you do not do, nor share with the outside world.
This is a rule he always tells you to follow.
Still, all he needs to do is to speak. Honeyed words fall from his lips like candy, always so sweet, so addictive, so passionate. Even a man like Sunday, who is known for keeping his cool, cannot hide his infatuation with you. He rambles and rambles, sometimes even losing himself in his thoughts as he sings his praises for you, like the lovesick fool that he is.
Sunday likes to think that he is being cool, suave, but he is literally anything but.
Sometimes, he gets a little too carried away. Sometimes, his darker desires get the better of him, which can set you off a little. He's always so sweet and apologetic whenever he upsets you...
Please, he says through gritted teeth.
Don't mind my ramblings. They don't mean anything. Truly, they do not.
Disregard those pleas entirely as they are nothing but hollow. All one needs to do is to look into his crazed eyes, and that is where you will find out just how true everything he's saying really is.
❥ 𝐉𝐈𝐀𝐎𝐐𝐈𝐔 !
This sly fox has such a hard time keeping his hands to himself... In all honesty, can you even blame him? Whenever he sneaks up on you, Jiaoqiu cannot help but to place his hands literally anywhere on your soft body and he is not shy about showing his true feelings.
Bearing his pearly white fangs, Jiaoqiu likes to bite from time to time.
The desire to do so is further enhanced with every sweet noise you make. Now now, don't cover your mouth, be nice! Every squeal, sigh, groan, even scream are so precious to him... Don't deny him the pleasure of not being able to listen to you.
It's very cruel of you, he says with a pout.
In the cover of night, he likes to trace the markings he left on you with his tongue, maybe even adding even more marks in the process. If you bleed a little, it's all fine and dandy.
You always taste sweet to him.
And the thought of other people being able to see the red bruises which bloom into hideous purple in green bruises on your neck... My goodness, he thinks to himself.
He could just devour you whole.
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gojoshooter · 1 year ago
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Sukuna bringin in a Hindu bride 💳💥💳💥 DO YOU SEE THE VISION???
wait wait wait I SEEE hold awn i got you
Ryomen Sukuna and his Hindu!Bride
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a/n: beyond my idea of loving this dynamic, i think this would fit so perfectly. plus that's his damn aesthetic iyk?!
It's the moment you, his pretty pretty Hindu!Bride walks down the petal aisle, Ryomen Sukuna sees the goddess of his very own eudaimonia in your ethereal beauty of jewel covered figure. Holding a garland as if reins to his power.
Hindu!Bride who addresses him as “Swami” which means 'master of self' (master, in general) —he's enthralled. Way to fuel your husband I guess.
Husband!Sukuna learns the word “Ardhangini” is how a husband calls his wife, connoting 'the better half' of him.
“Indeed you are” Sukuna coos internally, looking at his beautiful wife who touches his feet gently as a sign of respect and humility, to seek his blessings.
His grinch little heart would flutter at the sight of his woman blushing about the smallest of his acts, or whenever he complies to your request, big tender fingers putting vermillion on her parted hairline—the very sign of her wifehood.
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Husband!Sukuna never liked a cooked meal; he used to eat the raw flesh each day, until enters his new wife in the godforsaken scullery. It's a first that a queen enters the kitchen to serve, first time he tasted something entirely different to his taste... saporous, still ended up liking it. There are a lot of firsts he experiences with you by his side.
“Not... bad” he grumbles, his lips betraying and twitching into a slight grin. Delicious... he thinks, because Sukuna can get used to this flavour rich meal already. Just how perfect can his little Miss perfect get?
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Husband!Sukuna who allows you to put pretty earings on him, he'd spend a little more time looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he loves your compliments too much.
But nothing parallels his Hindu!Bride clad in golden jewelleries head to toe. Your long hair and the forehead, honey toned face, the arms and wrists, your plump waist and even your lotus like feet... that all makes him a poet whose favourite genre is your jewelled guise.
Maybe that's why he calls you a treasure. His treasure. There's a sort of pride filling his chest when he walks with you with the way you dress; you need high maintenance and lot of care that no man but he can provide.
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And their goes a saying that a woman acts like a mom to the one in love with—that's so true with you and your Husband!Sukuna cause you literally baby him whenever the chance. Feeding him the first bite with your henna decorated pretty palm, he loves that so much. Likes the smell it adds to whatever you make him eat.
But can you blame yourself? He is a baby. A sulky big baby at that. Sulking when he finds his other side of the bed empty, sulking when you leave his chambers without permission, sulking cause you were too busy to give him kisses or just purely to get your attention.
He makes sure you see him sulk.
-
It's just you who can walk in on him when he's throwing and thrashing things around in rage—unaffected. Everyone in this palace knows that's a privilege only you get, because you're his only one.
No one dares hold his face and look him in the eyes like his Hindu!Bride. No one dares order him to “calm the fuck down” like his queen. Literally none in the three worlds would cradle the big soft-haired head of the King of Curses in their lap to tell him he's a grumpy little child.
That's how it has always been between you two, completing and fitting each other's pieces like Yin & Yang. You couldn't be happier anywhere out of this trance of love you're in for him and he couldn't even imagine to successfully manage a day without his treasure. There couldn't have been a better pair, never could have he met a woman to match his devotion for her.
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PART 2 !
TAGS: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @whodoesthatanymore @heresan @nanamikentoseyebags @4sat0ruu
been thinking abt @xxnghtclls 's fic Permission & this ♡
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milkweedman · 5 months ago
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hello! need help learning how to do a thing and it's your area of expertise so im squirrelling into your ask box (dad joke, sorry.) ANYWAY
i have a lot of jeans that i really really like. however, my most worn jeans tend to, uh. rip in the seat after some time. either near the ass, or at the crotch. this is super irritating, and i don't like tossing the jeans just because of that but i have no idea how to fix them or what to do about this.
i vaguely remember you posting on here about jeans wear and tear as well. sorry if im asking you something that you have already answered, but just wanted to know - what's a good way of mending jeans ripped in the crotch area?
better yet, how do i reinforce my jeans that are showing the warning signs of ripping at the crotch?
My jeans literally just ripped a couple days ago and ive been wearing sweatpants to work out if laziness, so you have good timing 🐿
There might be many ways to do this (and there's definitely NEATER ways to do this) but here's how I fix mine:
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They just sort of wore right through. Luckily I was able to catch it before they started ripping too. The sooner you catch a hole the better--and noticing before it rips is best.
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You will need a sewing needle (for jeans I like the shortest sharpest needle with a small eye but use whatever needle is comfortable), scissors, a strip of scrap fabric, and some thread. Ideally thread in the same color as your jeans, but I'm using one that will stand out so you can see the repair. Also, nobody will see this later so it doesn't really matter. Pins will also help keep things neat but aren't strictly necessary.
The strip of fabric should be big enough to cover the entire area that wears out, doubled over, on this leg. You can of course just patch the hole, but then you'll grow a new hole a centimeter to the left, so its less work to just do this now.
For preventative measures (sewing a patch on before there is a hole) the process is exactly the same. Just patch the area you know will wear out.
Step 1: turn the pants inside out. fold your patch and pin it in place. We want a doubled patch because a single layer might wear through as well. If you don't have pins, you can use a spare needle or just set it over the repair site.
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Like so. If you want these to look nice, keep everything neat and straight. I just want these mended and don't care how it looks one iota, so mine will be messy.
Step 2: thread your needle with doubled thread. A single thread can and probably will wear through here.
Step 3: put your non dominant hand down the leg you're fixing. Your hand should be under the patch supporting while you sew. If you have an embroidery hoop or something leg-sized to put there to hold things taut, that's even better.
Step 4: start sewing the patch down. First we just want to secure it before we do any reinforcing. You could use any stitch here ( whipstitch would probably be good, backstitch is good as well) but I just use a simple running stitch. Go around the entire patch, removing pins if present as you go. Keep your stitches loose here, or at least not tight.
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Step 5: reinforcing ! This part can be done on either side, and the front is going to look way neater than the back. If this is in matching thread I'd go ahead and work on the inside because the messy outside won't be seen. If it's contrasting thread you may want to work on the outside, so that at least you have a good pattern. I don't care either way, so I'll work on the inside as it's a little easier. Like I said, this repair really won't be seen when wearing the pants, so the aesthetics aren't very important imo.
To reinforce, I will stitch plus signs/x's over the entire patch. You can do them one at a time or sew all the horizontal lines, then sew vertically to intersect. It's up to you, I like doing them one at a time though.
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Yes, they're very bad. Yes this will still extend the life of these pants several months at least. Yes it would be even more effective if I took the time to be neater.
On top on the right image is the patch I did on the other side when they started shredding 5 or 6 months ago. The fabric on the front is only just now starting to fail again, so they will need another round of mending. I will probably extend the patch down the leg a little but mostly just sew more. When you add a layer of thread over fabric, now you have to wear through all of the thread before you start wearing down the fabric again. That's largely how these patches work.
A much much neater and more aesthetic form of this basic idea is sashiko sewing. It's a great way to mend things like jeans (I just don't care about my jeans being anything other than usable so I save my effort and creativity for where I will enjoy it).
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Here's the front. I highly doubt anyone will ever see the yellow but I sharpied it black (can also do blue on most shades of blue jeans) and now it stands out less.
One last thing--if, when you look at the front again, you see there are some damaged areas standing proud, sew over those until they have compacted back down and are smooth again. This is important--whatever stands the highest will wear first. So your repairs should be sitting on top, standing higher than the damaged fabric. Otherwise this is all for naught.
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Some tips:
A canvas fabric is better. Go for something thick and with some weight to it if you can--immobilizing the repair site will also help some with how long the repair will last.
Similarly colored thread will render this almost invisible. Almost invisible means hard to work on... so make sure your patch is a different color so you're not mending like black thread on black fabric. Save your eyes.
Smaller stitches are better if you have the time/coordination. Large stitches can snag in the wash and also aren't as effective here.
That said, chicken scratch looking garbage will absolutely still make your pants wearable again, as you can see.
If the physical act of moving the needle is going terribly, it's because it's the wrong needle for the job. For jeans, you want a short needle as thin as possible with a small eye. I switched halfway thru this mend because I found a better needle and it was way easier after that.
That's all I got, good luck with your pants ! I usually can double or triple my jeans life this way
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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 5 months ago
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I feel like the idea of “more practical” outfits is kind of overused in ND’s Spop. I mean, come on.
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A GIANT cape with wings? Not practical.
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Same goes for Glimmer. A body suit, a vest, and a cape? AND wings? It’s a hat on a hat in a hat.
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No wonder her wings were so small. Those things were literally stunted.
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Frosta wearing this 24/7? Not practical.
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This scene. They BOTH should’ve gotten caught on branches and brambles. They’re both wearing long flowing outfits. Not practical.
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Exposed tum? Great for looking good. And for stabbing. Not practical. No one living in deserts irl does this. They wear light and breezy robes for breathability and coverage. Shoutout to BFS for also not dressing appropriately.
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Cutting holes in SPACE SUITS for hair and tails? Not practical.
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Spinnerella’s… Armor? That hardened pink thing that’s only covering her left side and the swirls probably stabbing into her stomach and thigh? Not practical.
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These bracers? Either too flimsy seeing how easily they are bent back, or if they worked properly Adora’s wrists can’t bend all the way. Not practical.
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This outfit for a guard? Not practical.
Catra, Scorpia, Entrapta…. Hell, DT has TWO. All the windows windows. All the cutouts. I like them. I wear them. I think they look cool. But in this show? Not practical.
agree with all of this!
like,, i know a lot of people are just gonna say “it's a fantasy show, it doesn't have to be realistic!” and i can understand the idea of wanting your characters to have an aesthetically pleasing design but
1. that can be done while giving the characters a practical and secure armor (for example, general amaya from tdp looking hot as fuck while wearing an almost full set of armor)
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OR
2. just change the characters into a proper armor when they're fighting. spop only does this ONCE in the entire show, and that was during the battle of brightmoon. and even then, they fucking erased adora's armor so that catra could scratch and injure her. what was the point of the armor then?
and catra doesn't wear an armor EVER, her outfit looks like it's made out of regular cloth but she somehow almost never gets injured while fighting. even when adora slams her into a boulder, she's completely unharmed except for a few scratches. i get that cartoons can't show blood but you can still see that catra isn't injured and exhausted the way adora is.
the main reason i have a gripe with this is because of all the fans saying that the original she-ra wasn't realistic enough. either leave the OG alone and just accept that not everything is perfect or realistic in fiction, or criticize spop the same way you criticize the original. you can't have double standards here.
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sapphic-scylla · 4 months ago
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First Impression Best to Worst Boss Fights in Shadow of the Erdtree
DLC has been out for a minute and I’ve done my initial runthrough and taken as much as I could from it. Suffice to say, I did love it a lot and thought that it has a solid amount of staying power. This list covers the main bosses only (and a few notable side bosses) and as usual, unless you don’t care about SPOILERS, I recommend not reading past this point:
Midra, Lord of Frenzied Flame: Now, already, I feel like people are gonna disagree with me. Hear me out. When I first hit this fight, I was like “they integrated a PVP-centric status condition into a boss fight. How is that fair?”. And then I thought about it for a second. No fight style makes this fight easier. No weapon, no spell, no armor makes this fight easier. It is as you see it. This man’s attacks can cover almost an entire room, snipe you from a thousand miles away, his melee attacks hit like a train, and builds up your Frenzy, which can leave you vulnerable and chunk your health and FP. But, he also is easy to stagger, he doesn’t move very fast, and his attacks are telegraphed a year in advance. It’s perfect. He doesn’t have a ton of health, but he is absolutely savage. He’s what difficulty SHOULD be and the sigh of satisfaction when you beat him is REAL. You can’t really cheese or simplify this boss beyond KILL HIM and it’s so refreshing to find a boss that no matter your choice of loadout, Midra will keep you on your toes in the most horror game-like way. Also lore wise, the vibes in this entire area were unsettling and immaculate and the “Eyes of Sauron/Winter Lantern” enemies actually made me jump in that horror game fun way and I adored it.
Messmer, The Impaler/Base Serpent: Now, this was the fight I forced myself to learn through sheer force of will. I literally slammed my head against this man for a day because I knew that the only thing that was killing me was my own arrogance and IT PAID OFF. By the end when I finally beat him, I adored this fight. This man lets you fucking have it, but at no point did it ever seem unfair or bullshit or, hell, even free. This fight is a perfect mix of cinematic, difficult, and a riot to learn and improve at and I genuinely look forward to this fight each playthrough now.
Rellana, Twin Moon Knight: A scaled-up version of my favorite base game Dark Souls 3 boss and she didn’t disappoint. Incredible fight, solidly learnable, and definitely one of the highlights of my first runthrough.
Bayle the Dread: The quickest love-hate relationship I’ve ever had the pleasure to wade through. In my first ten tries, I could not help but think “this is the worst. What can I do against this man except die?”. But the more I fought him, the more I enjoyed it and the more fair I found it. He is overwhelming, yes, but his tells are obvious and when you recognize the areas his attacks affect, he becomes a lot less oppressive. He also has the greatest phase 2 transition of all time. I mean my love for Placie has grown over the past few months, but I think Bayle edges out for Second place in best Dragon fights in Elden Ring. Fortissax takes first.
Scadutree Avatar: This fucker seems easy at first, and then he starts driving around. I severely underestimated this boss at first due to how much damage he was taking compared to everything else. Then he hits second phase and until then, I’d never been jumpscared by a sunflower before. Still not the hardest boss by any means, but definitely checks you at the door.
Romina, Saint of the Bud: I mean, outside of the obvious, I don’t know why I enjoyed this fight. Her rushdown is legendary and she deals in Scarlet Rot, so you’d think I would hate this fight. But her tactics ended up being fairly straightforward, her Rot wasn’t as oppressive as I thought it would be, and she really is such an aesthetically pleasing fight.
Putrescent Knight: The goofiest looking creature on this list by far, but this dude kicked my ass several times. He definitely came with his fair share of surprises, but he never felt overly obnoxious or overstayed his welcome. Not the most fun fight, but definitely worthy of more praise than scorn.
Allies of Miquella: Debated putting this in here because it’s more of a PVP standoff than a boss fight, but I feel it’s worth a mention. Nothing particularly exciting, but it definitely is much more of a marathon than I was expecting and a very difficult one at that. Come prepared here. These people don’t pull punches.
Ghostflame Dragons: More a mention than anything. Nothing unique, but it did force me to rethink how to fight dragons a la Darkeater Midir which I enjoyed.
Metyr, Mother of Fingers: Well, we had to hit the lower half eventually. Metyr doesn’t have a ton of health which puts her up here, but I generally dislike bosses that remind me of The One Reborn where it feels like no matter where you hit the boss, you’re still being dealt damage just for walking up to it which, I’m sure, incentivizes spellcasters, but frustrating nonetheless.
Promised Consort Radahn: Malenia without all of the charm and enjoyment. Malenia, I still firmly believe takes the cake in terms of hardest (and best) boss in Elden Ring, but Radahn did not skimp on the difficulty round two. That being said, his move set is far less enjoyable to learn than Malenia’s and often, it just felt the impressive amount of health and the absolutely unhinged amount of capable range this man has is unjustifiable. Plus, Malenia invites aggression and allows for so many ways to contest her despite her making you work for it while Radahn just hurts. Pain for the sake of improvement is great. Pain for the sake of pain is a lot less fun.
Ancient Dragon Senessax: I did not think that the thing that would make me hate a fight like Lansseax or Fortissax would be just setting the damn thing in a pool of water, but here we are. The lightning AOE’s in this fight are ruthless and are a lot less avoidable for how much they stagger on a regular day. Definitely not the worst, but not a fun development.
Golden Hippopotamus: This thing definitely killed more innocent players than real hippos do every year in real life. This thing SUCKS to fight. Camera monsters in general are just a pain, but when half of your screen is covered in porcupine quills (yes, YOU HEARD ME), this thing becomes substantially more of a drag. That and this abomination punches above its weight class and I just generally found this fight as entertaining as a mosquito bite.
Commander Gaius: Fuck this man. I’ve never had a dude kill me so consistently or so consecutively in the first 5 seconds of the fight. It’s been a minute since a boss legitimately made me yell at my TV screen and I did not welcome the experience. Also, this man had absolutely no right or privilege to ride my ass this fucking hard unless he bought me dinner first. Will not enjoy revisiting this dude.
Divine Beast Dancing Lion: Brace yourself. This is gonna be a long one. I apologize in advance. *breathe in* *heavy sigh* I’ve never actively thought any boss in any Dark Souls game was purely unwarranted or worthy of true hatred. Despite all of the bosses I dislike fighting across all FromSoft games, I always attempted to find a bright side or something like lore or environment or something to justify its existence and I had succeeded. Until I met this fucking thing. This menace didn’t have the most kills on me (that goes to Malenia and Messmer) or did anything in particular that actively exploited my playstyle (like Maliketh, Mohg, or the Crucible Duo). This cockroach merely existed and it was enough. Its body is a giant blob. Its hitbox is horrific. It punishes aggression. It punishes passivity. This thing has ranged attacks, melee attacks, magical attacks, passive effects, movement patterns, retaliatory tactics, and even him just looking at me hits like a goddamn truck. He is so hard to read and does so much damage and does the most unhinged, wtf follow-ups that I’ve ever seen with the most hairpin trigger aggression I’ve ever experienced in my life. He does frost damage, lightning damage, physical damage, I’m pretty sure there is fire damage in there somewhere, emotional damage, and mood damage. And, to top it all off, THERE’S A FUCKING SECOND ONE OUT IN THE BOONIES THAT IS EVEN FUCKING WORSE. Basilisks have been in the Soulsborne conglomerate for as long as I can remember and I’ve tolerated their existence until FOUR OF THEM WANDER INTO THIS FUCKING FIGHT AT THE BEGINNING OF PHASE 2. THIS LION HAS A DEATH BLIGHT PHASE. You know, the one status effect in Elden Ring that INSTANTLY KILLS YOU. And the best part? If you don’t kill him fast enough, HE CAN DO IT AGAIN. It would not surprise me if the same sadist that came up with the Double Gargoyle fight came up with this one. And like I said, he doesn’t have the most health I’ve ever seen, but it doesn’t fucking matter. The only thing that matters is how fast you can remove his health because he WILL kill you if you give him any leeway. I fought this thing twice and I know about as much about how to fight this thing as I did the first time I walked into its arena. I succeeded twice by SHEER DUMB LUCK. I despise this thing and if I could actively avoid it, I would not hesitate.
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shewassaying · 1 year ago
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💛💫1000 DOWNLOAD CELEBRATION -- PART TWO💫💛
And now, for part two of our celebration, everyone's favorite ornery editor: Oscar!
Also, you all are wild. We didn't even get halfway through our 1K celebration before we hit 2000 downloads. Thank you all so much!! <3
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Art by @minthe-drawings
DEBUT
by Cath, edited by @crescencestudio
No way. No way, no way, no way. Nope. No. Way.
There is no chance whatsoever that you're going tonight. It's not happening. This… It's all wrong!
You stand before the full length mirror in Oscar's bedroom– 
No, it's your bedroom now too. The mental correction is taking longer to come into effect than you'd thought it would, despite you having had nearly two months to adjust. And despite you redecorating… or rather, decorating the place.
To call it a bachelor pad would be a compliment, since that would imply at least furniture to begin with. Oscar's place had just been... empty.
"I'm always traveling. What is the point of a–What the fuck did you call that? A duvet?-- Whatever the hell it's called, if I'm in hotels most of the time?" 
His huffing had done nothing to stop your determination to bring the aesthetic of the place from "utilitarian holding cell" to an actual home. Where people live. On purpose. He'd groused the whole time, but little did he know, you had seen every one of his slight smiles as you chose which bedsheets, towels, curtains matched your shared space best. He'd enjoyed watching you make your small—and not so small—claims on the space. 
You stare at yourself in the full-length mirror (a purchase he had been surprisingly on board with) for a heartbeat more before half thrashing your way free of the clothes and adding them to the ever-growing mountain on the bed.
You can't do this. Nope. Too much pressure. 
You shove on a tattered sweatshirt (Oscar's, stolen, smelling like old books and his spice-scented cologne) and a pair of shorts just as Oscar enters the room. 
"You're not dressed yet?" He arches an eyebrow at you, and you immediately scowl. It does not escape you that he isn't ready either–he's wearing the same jeans and tee-shirt from his morning errands.
"I'm not going." 
He leans against the doorframe, his broad shoulders near filling the entranceway, his expression shifting towards one he always seems to save just for you, a wry kind of amusement bordering on exasperation. 
"You sound like a toddler," he says. You think you hear the beginning of a chuckle in his voice, and it fans your stubbornness into outright defiance. 
"I do not. I sound like an adult who can make their own decisions, and I decided I'm not going." 
Your earlier suspicion is confirmed: his chuckle evolves into a snort that does a poor job hiding his laughter.
"It's the launch party for your book. You quite literally have to go." 
You throw yourself backwards onto the bed with a loud groan, covering your face with your hands. He's right, of course. But there's no way in hell you're saying that. 
"How about this, Oscar? You edited the thing. You go schmooze in my stead and make good impressions and whatever else is expected for something like this–"
You feel his presence moments before he reaches down for you. It's that familiar tingle that fills the air every time you two are in close proximity, a ticklish kind of static. He grips you firmly but gently by the shoulders, prying you up from the bed. He'd probably release you if you put up a fight, because he was annoying like that. So instead, you switch tactics and go entirely limp, forcing him to drag your stubborn, slumping form up. Your head lolls from side to side, but he, equally as stubborn, hauls you up into a seated position. 
"What's the issue, sweetheart?" he asks, the note of annoyance in his voice the only acknowledgement of your ragdoll display.  
You lean against him, winding your arms around his hips and burying your face into his stomach. Your face feels warm with embarrassment, and you don't want him to see. You don't want to admit the actual problem—to hear how frivolous it sounds when it's spoken aloud. All that would do is make you feel… small. Ridiculous. 
The silence stretches, and soon you feel the weight of his hand against the back of your head, cradling it gently. He leans just slightly into you, pulling you closer, and begins drawing soothing, rhythmic circles on your back. The soothing effect is near instantaneous, and you sigh loudly before turning your head so he can hear you. 
"I have nothing to wear." 
His hand stills for a moment, and his thumb twitches at the base of your neck. His chest shakes a little, and you pull back to glare up at him. 
He's laughing. That bastard!
"Stop it, I'm serious!" 
This, of course, only makes him laugh harder, the tone warm and genuine. You expect the shame and embarrassment to overcome you at any moment, but it doesn't. He's not mocking. You find yourself struggling to maintain your glare, your lips twitching into a smile. 
"That's the issue? We can fix that! Why didn't you say something sooner?"
He drops a kiss on your forehead before untwining himself from your arms and walking to your closet. 
"No, it's not! I– Nothing feels right, and it's too late to go and buy something new...!"
"It's just nerves. It's making it hard to make a decision."
You grunt in response, wrinkling your nose. You know that, of course. Doesn't make it any easier. 
"Here." Oscar withdraws an outfit from the closet and presents it to you nonchalantly. "What about this one?" 
You eye the fabric skeptically. It's pale in color, the material looks buttery smooth, and you're almost entirely certain you've never seen it before. 
"I-Is that mine?"
"What? What kind of question is that? It's not mine."
"I– I don't know! Where did that even come from?" 
Oscar's brow drops to a decidedly annoyed expression. 
"Scribbles. You cannot seriously expect me to know where you've obtained your clothing." 
You practically hiss at the nickname, snatching the clothes hanger from him. 
"Fine, I'll try it! Now get out so I can change."
Oscar arches his eyebrow at you. 
"Seeing you change? That's where we draw the line of privacy, is it? Even though I've seen you–"
"Beat it, Spellcheck!"
He's cackling, and you're flustered and overheated by the time you succeed in banishing him from the bedroom. 
—-—-—-
"Come out, Scribbles. Let me see you." 
You sigh softly to yourself before leaving the safety of your bedroom, having finished your final grooming touches. The outfit Oscar picked feels suspiciously new. When did you even buy this? 
Still, the color is more complimentary than you'd expected, and the cut of it is undeniably flattering on your body. You still feel anxiety creeping up your throat from its nest in your belly, but your boyfriend had been right. Having the choice made for you was helpful. The quality of his choice certainly didn't hurt either. 
Stepping into the living room, you look around for a moment before spotting Oscar leaning against the far wall. 
Your mind goes blank, a slate wiped clean. He's changed as well, it seems. He wears a light brown vest paired with a cream colored jacket–colors that distinctly compliment your own outfit. The lines of the suit follow the contours of his body perfectly, and your pulse suddenly feels very loud. It's not wholly unusual for Oscar to dress up for work events or the like but… 
Damn. He's hot. 
Your gaze slides up his body and to his face, and you finally see the expression he's wearing. Any last scrap of insecurity you feel is banished by the look he is giving you. It's more exalting than desire, more sinful than reverence, more devoted than hunger. It's... all of those things and more. 
You can barely breathe. 
"I knew it." 
He drags himself from the wall and stalks towards you, the movements reminiscent of a prowling cat. 
"I knew that would be stunning on you the moment I saw it." 
You're flushing, your breathing coming unevenly. The effect he has on you is dizzying, but one question rises from the haze that's overcoming your mind. 
"The moment you saw it...?"
"You like my gift, Scribbles?"
"Wait, you… you bought this for me?"
"Well, you're always going on and on about everything needing to match in this damn house, so..."
"You bought this so I could match with you?"
He's only an arm's length from you now. The intensity of his gaze as he rakes his eyes up and down your body is such that you can practically feel his touch sliding over your skin. 
"Don't be absurd," he says quietly, his eyes finally meeting yours. The smile he gives you is wicked, but you don't miss the tinge of pink settling over his cheeks. 
He finally closes the gap between you, pressing you against the wall in one swift, easy motion. His hands find your hips, and his face nuzzles into your neck. For a moment, you wonder if he chose that spot to strategically hide his blush, just as you had before, but the thought quickly leaves you, as Oscar distracts you with the warmth of his breath against your skin, the nip of his teeth on your earlobe. 
You shudder. 
"I bought it because I knew it would look incredible on you. I bought my suit after to match." 
His arms wind around your lower back and fit you to him, and you nearly purr, pulling him closer. His touch is intoxicating—soft and sweet from his kisses that barely graze your skin, rough and scratchy from his beard lightly scraping against you. He trails his lips along your body. First, nibbling at your ear, then brushing over your jaw, before finally finding its way to the corner of your mouth. 
You turn towards him to close that torturous distance, wanting your mouth upon his. All you can think about is the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. Your whole body is on fire, set alight by his touch, but still he holds himself just beyond your reach.
"Maybe we shouldn't go after all," he hums. The rasp of his deep voice is more pronounced than usual, and you arch your back into him in response. He grins wolfishly at you, and you almost snap. Enough with the teasing. 
You want him to kiss you so. Fucking. Badly.
But before you can give voice to your wishes, he grants them as if he knows the effect he has on you.  He kisses you with a languid, searing intensity. You tangle your fingers into his soft curls and he groans into your mouth, his fingers digging hard into your body. You can feel his control dangling by a thread–
He pulls back, his breath hitching, and nips at your lower lip before truly breaking the kiss. 
"But–" you begin, but he shakes his head. 
"Tonight is to celebrate you. What you accomplished. I want you to have that, you deserve it. You've earned it."
He raises his hand to your cheek, brushing his knuckles over the heated skin. You smile. 
"... Fine. We'll go."
"Good." 
He separates from you, and the cool air isn't as soothing as you'd hoped. It's mostly lonely. He crosses the room to grab the keys, and shoots you a smirk over his shoulder as he goes. 
"Because I deserve it too. I had to edit the damn thing, and I think you would actually perish if you had to come up with a synonym on your own–let alone place a comma properly–"
"Asshole!" 
His laughter drowns out your stream of obscenities, and you depart for your book's debut.
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physalian · 3 months ago
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Can I complain about modern fantasy book titles and covers for a second?
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I don’t like these books anyway. Why doesn’t matter, they have their audience and I’m not part of it. But eight whole books, and I read seven of them (not Assassin’s Blade) a few years ago now, and I could not tell you in what order they should be read if someone handed me a blind pile, or even what cover belongs to each book because they’re so painfully generic (and missing numbers on their spines).
Nor could I tell by the titles which are also painfully generic. Yeah they read like fantasy titles but there’s nothing distinct about them, they’re just fantasy buzzwords and they’re so vague that even Tower of Dawn leaves me vaguely recalling that kingdom with the giant birds, I think? Heir of Fire might be the romantic side quest that lasts an entire book, but that’s based more on my memory of the order of events than the title or cover would suggest.
Blank of X and Y she used for ACOTAR (which I did not read and know nothing about so I skipped them) is just so boring to me if the Mad Lib is nothing special. “Heir of Fire” could be a Game of Thrones fanfic for how unique and evocative the title is. A Court of Thorns and Roses literally stole the cadence of A Song of Ice and Fire but guess what?? Those aren't just nonsense words. Ice and Fire and how they're related are hugely thematic and relavent elements in those books. "Thorns and Roses" just ripped off a Poison song.
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I assume these were the original covers since they’re not so manicured and actually have character. The titles are the same but the colors are so much bolder and the imagery isn’t a greyscale girl for 7 out of 8 titles. They’re distinct and memorable and while they’re still not evocative of the actual story, if I was a bigger fan of the books I’d probably have stronger associations. They do try. I have fuzzy memories coming back of EOS having the cool pirate with the map hands, KOA being the climactic battle book, QOS... might be the boring side quest with the dragons. This does not look like assembly line popcorn fantasy. This looks like it has heart, and an air of mystery. They draw you in and have you asking questions, they have you wanting to know more.
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These books are, in my opinion, superior in many ways to anything SJM has written, but the covers? The exact same problem on steroids. And I only read four of them, there’s six total apparently. King’s Cage is the best title of the bunch. I know immediately from the title “that’s the one where the protagonist spent the whole book as a political prisoner in, you know, the king’s cage”.
But the covers, though they all share the same aesthetic and would look pretty on the book shelf, are absolutely devoid of any and all context within the book, save King's Cage. They’re all feminine crowns and tiaras, too. They could have at least given a man’s crown or at least something with harsher angles and thicker lines to evoke, idk, maybe the titular character the third book is about? It helps that the series (at one point) was only four books so it was less titles and ambiguous covers to juggle, but now there’s six so I guess that’s out the window.
Pretty, but purely window dressing. The best thing they have going for them is how distinctly minimalist they are that sets them apart from other fantasy.
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I have incredibly mixed feelings about these books but the colors. Very much carrying on the PJO tradition of titles that actually fit the books and art to go along with it. There’s so much drama and movement to each one and they are, once again, scenes from each book, so many little details to look at. Festus was a huge part of TLH, then Percy's back in action, front and center in SON, then... uh, MOA... then Percy and Annabeth looking scared shitless in HOH and then... uh, BOO. Exists.
They all draw you in and I very much remember the cover drop for House of Hades and losing my mind over it. Much more face-focused than the reserved originals, much bolder, but still, mostly, Percy Jackson.
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I looked this up on google images and couldn’t even read the titles there tiny at the bottom. The exact same color scheme for every single book. This is for the box set, I know that, so the spines all make one image when you line them up, but the spine doesn’t have to be the same image as the front cover.
That said, the cover images are still distinct and still hold true to the originals—showing actual elements from the books, like Blackjack and Polyphemus and the Labyrinth. Updated but a bit too sleek for my tastes (maybe that’s just nostalgia talking). The titles though, love the titles. At least they kept the series number on the covers (unlike TOG or RQ).
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Now this. This here. These have everything. Bold, distinct colors on the spines, beautiful unique and very fantastical art, art that actually pertains to the book it’s about with an air of mystery every single time. You want to ask why there’s a kid floating in Long Island Sound, who that giant eye belongs to, who has that pegasus so frightened, what’s in the golden coffin, and… well the last one is just noire and I like it.
The titles, though. The. Titles. “Sea of Monsters” cannot in any way match up with the plot of the rest of the series. These covers are perfection.
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Now I did not read these books, just saw the movies. These covers are dated, but there still wonderfully, charmingly whimsical, for an entire series about wizards and witches. The colors are distinct, the font choices reflect the vibes of each book, the art depicts the stories within the pages—Harry joining the Quidditch team, Fawkes coming to the rescue, Buckbeak, the mermaid egg thing and the other competitors in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the (I think?) prophecy room/Ministry of Magic, the Remembrall (I think??), and, you know, the last one is cool too. The style of the drawings are rather unique to Harry Potter. Harry also visibly ages across each one.
The titles themselves, like PJO (while predating PJO so setting the trend I’m aware) cannot be separated from their books. Order of the Phoenix? That’s the book about the Order of the Phoenix. Deathly Hallows is about, shocker, the Deathly Hallows.
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Putting Twilight here at the bottom. I like these despite them being minimalist because, unlike every other cover on this list, they’re minimalist fantasy. Barely urban fantasy. The red and white motifs are evocative of the romance genre and vampire fiction and at least the covers of Twilight and Breaking Dawn do reference scenes in their books, with Edward catching the apple in the cafeteria and them playing chess on their honeymoon.
They also speak to a more adult, mature audience with the sleeker look. These are romance novels with vampires, *not* fantasy novels with romance. You see any of those covers among other adult romance in a bookstore and they’re going to catch your eye. The titles… eh. Not so much. Nothing to do with the story they just sounded pretty and evocative but this is romance, not fantasy, they’re supposed to be sensual and evocative and “Bella Swan and The Broody Vampire Boy” would not at all fit that vibe.
It’s not like these modern fantasy novels are devoid of creative terminology. I don’t like SJM at all but her books did have some really creative and wonderful moments in isolation. It’s like the publishers were afraid to be authentic and sincerely fantastical, so they went with something safe and clean and uninspired both in title and in art.
“Throne of Glass” means nothing to me and could be applicable to like, four of the books in that series. If I squint I can see it as a metaphor for the fragile state of the ruling house but there is quite literally glass everywhere so maybe it’s just one cool element—that should have then been on the cover—but like, the whole book is about the Assassin’s trial, right? So call it The Assassin’s Trial or Tournament of Assassins. You know. The plot of the book, not just one random ass element in the background.
Be authentically fantastical, or don't write fantasy.
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xadianglyphs · 27 days ago
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Star Iconography: Four-Point and Triple Stars
This post is part of a series collecting, categorizing, and exploring types of star iconography used through s6. Reading the other parts is not required to understand any individual post, but they are related.
The four-point star can be interpreted as the standard star shape/symbol within the setting—representing stars in general as seen in the sky, rather than the primal source of The Stars. The symbol is universal enough to appear in a child's drawings:
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Though the four-point star is of course associated with the same four-point shape in the Star primal symbol, it's a lot more malleable. It can be highly geometric and composed of precise lines, or it can be effectively a rhombus/diamond shape with slightly concave sides. Sometimes one point—usually the bottom one—is elongated.
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The four-point star appears in pretty much every star-related context, from the Celestial elves and the Starscraper to the Startouch elves themselves, and to elven documents related to them. The Celestial elves even incorporate it in their insignia, rather than the primal symbol:
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The decorations throughout the Starscraper also frequently combine the Star primal symbol enclosed within a four-point star, which is probably just a way to make everything look fancier but is also interesting in the context of their insignia being the eye within the four-point star.
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Now, I don't think there's necessarily any meaning to the four-point star and its use—it's a symbol that says "star" without saying "Star primal" and all that entails, which is something visually needed. So this is going to get a bit... out there, but I want to call attention to the recurring prominent decorative use of triple stars: three four-point stars or diamonds in a cluster.
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Leola wears three star/diamonds in her hair, the Merciful One has three decorating the waist of their robes, Aaravos has three on each of his god-dang literal face cheeks.
Obviously there is a very strong chance that it's all is coincidence due to three being a very aesthetic number of things to arrange—way better than two or four, and five is often just too many. This means even the solid predominance of three-star clusters in the Star primal symbol concept art could mean nothing at all:
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But then we start to get things like "only three quasar diamonds, of unknown origin, in the entire world" and the three star/diamond crest on the "Chronicles of Elarion" cover, and I dunno... I start to go huh.
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Is the number three, particularly three stars, of significance to Startouch elves, and/or ancient humans? Does it commemorate three significant star-related beings? There's a lot of emphasis in the series on character triads, and we still don't know anything about how Laurelion fits in with Aaravos and Startouch elves in Xadia. Is it related to why there are only three quasar diamonds? Or is there a connection between only a couple of these elements, like the three quasar diamonds and Elarion, and the rest are aesthetic coincidence?
This is all stuff I think is unlikely to be explored or resolved in s7, unless it gets into what's up with the whole "three quasar diamonds" thing. But it's neat to think about.
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thepageofhopes · 10 months ago
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Talking about my choices and template under the cut!
Favorite Game of All Time: Undertale
Probably will stay my GOAT forever unless Deltarune manages to stick it's landing with the many cool extensions to undertale's themes and lore it brings up. Part of my love for it is based on how little games cared to explore the themes it brought up before undertale came out.
Favorite Series: Super Monkey Ball series
No other games have really managed to capture what this series had, though Rolled Out might by the time it's finally released. Lots of nostalgia baked into this choice- I used to do stunts as a teenager back in the day and learn the tech from forums.
Best Soundtrack: Terraria's Calamity Mod
Yes, I'm counting a mod as both a separate game and enough of one to have the best soundtrack. I already loved DM DOKURO's undertale remixes, and they just knock it out of the park with the Calamity mod. I will never not scream THE ENEMY HAS ASCENDED BEYOND YOUR CONTROL but Devourer of Gods is also something truly special.
Favorite Protagonist: Zagreus from Hades
I'm not usually super into the protagonists of games as I usually am with the supporting cast, but Zagreus really makes the story of Hades and his commentary brings the game to life so, so much. Other contender of this spot was probably the Voice of the Hero from Slay the Princess, but hard to say if they are really the protagonist, and also, I like Voice of the Contrarian even more.
Favorite Villain: The Masked Man from Mother 3
-endless crying-
Best Story: Mother 3
Listen, Undertale may be my GOAT but Mother 3 is my number 2 because of how good the story is. Please go watch Super Eyepatch Wolf's video on it if you haven't. The incredible themes, the knife-twisting tragedies, the goofy humor covering up extremely dark subject matter, all of it is so, so, so, good.
Have not played but want to: Alan Wake 2
This game seems so much My Shit™ but sadly it is only on epic games store which I hate. I've heard so many wonderful things about the game and all the visuals in those reviews look amazing and seem like it really is the peak of modern survival horror. Can't wait for it to come to Steam/GoG.
Everyone hates but you love: Continue?9876543210
'Everyone' is quite an overstatement for such a weird, niche game but it is the only game I really like that also has a non positive rating on steam. I've always loved the weird themes and existentialism tinged with hope that this game offers, despite everything from its mechanics to the story being vague and near impossible to parse.
You hate but everyone loves: Into The Breach
Nuclear Throne/Enter the Gungeon could also go here. All are roguelikes which are incredibly loved in the community that I just can't stand. I don't even particularly know why I don't like them, just something about the feel of the mechanics don't agree with me.
Best Artstyle: Splatoon series, but specifically Octo Expansion (until Side Order inevitably beats this)
Splatoon has always been a series marked by it's incredible visual design. Everything screams 90s, the color choices are vivid and striking, the character models are super expressive, etc. Octo Expansion adds even more with the retropunk aesthetic and dark environments mixed with the neon greens and blues.
Favorite Ending: Phoenix Wright: Trials and Tribulations
The entire last case of this game is perfect. The ending montage where you get to see where all the characters are going is sweet and ties a great bow on the series, and the final picture with the vase gets me every time. This was another game that was a contender for best story.
Favorite Boss Fight: Undyne the Undying from Undertale
'Not Sans???' listen Sans is probably the better design but Undyne the Undying was my literal first true boss I ever fought in Undertale, and it will always stick with me. I love the rhythm game style of her mechanics and her intro into her music sets the tone perfectly for the genocide run.
Childhood Game: Ball Revamped 2: Metaphasik
Catz is also a contender here since that is even older and I also played that quite a lot as a kid, but Ball Revamped 2 and a lot of jmtb02's other flash games were really when I started to heavily get into video games. I still sometimes go back to this one, the design still holds up quite well, and the rest of the series ain't bad either.
Relaxing Game: Vampire Survivors
I don't generally play 'relaxing' games, I like my games hard and fast and brutal. But vampire survivors build crafting is incredibly relaxing and when you make a successful build being able to just sit back and let the game play itself to win is such a dopamine rush.
Stressful Game: Cook, Serve, Delicious 3
Honestly, most of the games I play could go here. CSD series however is a special type of stress that puts me on edge through the whole level, enough that I often can't do more than a 3 or so in a play session (lovingly). A rhythm game without music, there is no other game series that demands the level of intense focus and execution like this does.
Game you can always come back to: Fallout: New Vegas
I've come back to this game at least 10 separate times with new characters. A combination of incredibly relaxing due to the easy combat system and replayability given the role playing system mean it's an easy game to just jump back into even after a long time away.
Guilty Pleasure: Project Sekai: Colorful Stage
I play a lot of gacha games and most if not all could fit here given how terrible those games are with the players, but Project Sekai is one where I will actively gush about it as I think it's story and characters are legitimately great. Magia Record could also fit here if it the NA servers weren't shut down.
Tons of Hours Played: Binding of Isaac: Rebirth
Not my most played game technically (Terraria and Tabletop Simulator beat it) but both of those don't count as many of Terraria's hours are idle due to holding a server up, and Tabletop Simulator due to waiting and also it's not exactly a game in it's own right. I've so far put 750 hours into Rebirth, and still only have 545 of the 637 achievements. No other game has ever captured BoI's way of insane item combinations that make each run a discovery fest.
And here's the template!
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purpletyn · 2 years ago
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Scott's Dying Thoughts
It's been literal years since I've written fanfiction but Lim Life drove me insane and I need to. So. Beneath the cut if you'd like to take a peak.
Scott should've expected this, he supposed.
As he and Impulse carefully unstrapped their armor, preparing for a final, brutal fight, Martyn had stood off to the side, deathly still. His hand had been bleached from the pale skin the last 8 hours of life cursed him with, but Scott knew he would have been white-knuckling the handle of his sword regardless.
And so, as lava scorched the grass around Scott's feet, all he could think is that he really should have expected a turn against him. And yet, he felt the sting of betrayal.
Because it was Martyn. Loyal to a fault, there to defend, the ever-steady ally Martyn. The one who had sprinted through an overgrown forest with him to stop attempts on Scott's then-yellow life, the one who Scott trusted to take this life so nobody else could take the time, the one who mere minutes before had been chased around by Pearl and waited for Scott to save him.
Scott felt at least a little justified in his surprise.
He felt the blade enter his back, too.
Martyn was yelling something over it all, but Scott more heard the blood rushing in his ears than anything. He craned his neck towards the sound as he collapsed, face first, into the dirt below.
And through the fire and the ember of the spreading lava, he saw not Martyn, but someone- something else entirely.
He looked like a man possessed; or, more accurately, a man who had seen too much, knew too much, and had finally broken from the weight of it all. Mortal men were not meant to be privy to whatever secrets his betrayer had learned.
His eyes were blown wide, crazed, and already darting towards Impulse. Scott noted, perhaps due to the delirium the paid blood loss induced, that he looked like a bucking horse. It was the wild and insane look of an animal that had once known its companion and lost it. What was once tame had become undone, and in its place was pure, raw, unguided emotion lashing out at whatever poor fool happened to be closest.
Which was, of course, Scott.
Time seemed to be slowing. The time between seconds seemed to get exponentially longer with every moment. All the dying man could do was wait for whichever second was going to be his last.
Martyn swung round. Scott assumed it was fast, as the sash he was wearing kicked up into the air and splayed out brilliantly, but for Scott's distorted state of mind the action felt like eternity, giving him plenty of time to drink in the details.
His eye naturally caught on the other's cloth belt, and if he could have laughed, he would have. It explained so much. What Scott had mistakenly thought was just a simple red accessory to complete a pirate aesthetic instead bore the unmistakable trio of triangles on the end hem that designated Dogwarts.
And Scott realized a few things.
Martyn is loyal to a fault, there to defend, and an ever-steady ally. But, after the fourth go of things, trends become known. The hand will always be there for his king, people would say. Stay away from that one, he will leave to be with Ren.
It was advice Scott took to heart. He wasn't that mad when his soulmate stole away to the nether instead of finding him; he worked with Pearl before, she was a fantastic ally the round before. But she had found a friend in Martyn. Martyn came with baggage.
But when that baggage wasn't there, as the players learned on day one when the cycle began anew, the calculus changed- or so Scott thought.
Even after all this time, even covered in coral from head to toe, even when the king was nowhere to be seen, he was only ever loyal to Dogwarts.
Scott turned his head back towards the clear blue sky and saw a bolt of lightning, originating from no cloud and seeming to stretch into the infinite above, slowly coming ever closer. It branched into five as it approached, giving the plasma the shape of a spindly, near-skeletal hand reaching for him.
His time was up.
He could see just off to the side, another fledgling streak of pure energy descending from the heavens to the humble, crated, bloodied dirt. Scott noted Martyn was still yelling despite it.
He had won. His own Mean Gill had won.
Scott closed his eyes and smiled. He wouldn't have it any other way.
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altrbody · 4 months ago
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Wolfgang Laib, Wax Room, 1994 Beeswax, wooden construction Interior dimensions: height 320 cm, corridor 80 x 1311 cm, chamber 153 x 584 cm.
WAX CHAMBER The question of a realm beyond the visible, of a realm beyond sensory perception, has been at the heart of Wolfgang Laib's research since 1988. It was then that he created his first Wax Chamber, entitled For Another Body. It is a closed, narrow room, whose walls and ceiling are entirely covered with variously sized slabs of beeswax. The outside of the room is coated in white stucco, masking the weight-bearing wooden frame. A rectangular opening, on one of the small sides, allows access to the interior. In this case the work does not constitute a form one perceives from the exterior, but a space one lives from the interior, by entering it. And once you have crossed the threshold of this chamber, before even discovering the singular beauty of its architecture, an intoxicating perfume makes its presence known: the scent of the wax. A scent so dense, compact, and powerful, that it seems to penetrate the depths of the body, to purify the organs, to metamorphose their very matter. In a word, the body appears literally embalmed in perfume, as it leaves behind its material substance to melt into the immaterial substance exhaled by the walls. For Another Body: never will a title have so perfectly described a work's ambition. For with the Wax Chambers, whatever their configuration (Wolfgang Laib has carried out several variations in recent years), it is a matter of inviting a metamorphosis of the body, of eliciting a passage from one state to another. This metamorphosis, this passage, is accomplished in a propitious place, where the darkness is hardly troubled by a very faint electric light whose glow caresses the golden, matte surface of the wax. The slabs are arranged with a subtle comprehension of balance, without any rigid order that would suggest a rule; thus the combination of reason and chance confers on these walls a rare and delicate harmony.
Other sensations accompany this experience which, as one may easily understand, goes far beyond the framework of aesthetics alone. That the artist should define his Wax Chambers as places of meditation additionally incites one to dwell at length in these places. Indeed, little by little the feeling of being outside the world, or quite simply somewhere else, comes to light, settles in. Somewhere else can be defined as where one is not, but in this precise case it would be more where the body is not. For one must admit, these wax chambers with their sepulchral aspect readily bring funerary chambers to mind. Yet there is nothing morbid in these spaces, just an initial conditioning, a preparation of the body for a voyage to the beyond, to which only the spirit - the soul? - has access. It is to this voyage that the artist invites us. An excessively personal, intimate voyage, it leads us to rediscover the essential in a renewal of vision where life and death cross paths, merge, without ever canceling each other out. The experience is unique, overwhelming, as are these works which constitute one of the most singular gestures of the art of the twentieth century, like a fully realized utopia.
-Guy Tosatto (Translated from the French by Brian Holmes) from Wolfgang Laib: somewhere else, 1999.
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completeoveranalysis · 2 years ago
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[1]
Chapitre 176:
The Unmoving Body, the new fragrance from CLAMP. Available now!
But OH the aesthetic. CLAMP are once again relishing in the climax of the plot and really giving themselves the space to elevate it all with the drama it deserves. 
Which in this case means the cover chapter is a solemn, serious close up of Lava Lamp as he enters this final battle. AND THE DETAILS. The cover shows us his face, but only half his face - only one eye is visible, which means the next chapter pretty much HAS to be the inverse of this, with Syaoran doing the opposite pose with the opposite eye visible. The duality of it all is just RIGHT THERE on display, with each of them being an unequal half of the other, with all that means to each of them and all that’s happened in the plot because of it. Even the visible bands of black and white down the left side of the page (with the shadows on Lava Lamp’s neck and the colour of his clothes) emphasise the pattern of their yin yang connection, but in an orderly balanced fashion, because this is Lava Lamp, and he’s the whole being. There’s also the visual pull through the repeated V shape (the neck of Lava Lamp’s shirt, the shadow on his neck, the tip of his chin, the shape of his nose) that pulls the eye down that stripe of alternating colour to really highlight the contrast between everything that’s happening visually. 
And in a fascinating callback Lava Lamp has a SHADOW here, lingering just behind him, which is such a FUN choice considering that the background is already black. They didn’t need another level of a grey tone shadow to make this dramatic but they did it anyway, because it's bringing the entire run of this imagery to its final conclusion. Lava Lamp’s metaphorical shadow is present in the image because Lava Lamp’s literal shadow is in front of him right now, lighting him on fire and trying to kill him. This echo of a person, this shadow come to life, has hung over his entire narrative, his entire life for years now, and its all been leading to this moment. 
And lastly the slow drift of sakura petals across the page! That not only present us with the gorgeous imagery we surely don’t need explained, but also CAST SHADOWS ON LAVA LAMP as they fall past him. The shadows AGAIN are a deliberate choice, because they aren’t always given shadows in pages like this, but if they were ever going to it would be HERE, with all that might mean, and all that implies for Lava Lamp, and all that hints at for the future. 
This cover is PEAK Clamp design. No notes!
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jacquelinemerritt · 1 year ago
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Dragon Ball Z: Abridged Episode 57 Review
Originally posted September 8th, 2018
A brand new character steals the show.
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Hercule Satan fucking rules.
That could legitimately be my entire review of “Opening Serumonies,” and I don’t think anyone would mind, because first, it’s obviously true, and second, it’s about all that needs to be said about this episode. Hercule Satan is a goddamn incredible character, Antfish brings him to life brilliantly, and all of the jokes around his character land with aplomb. I don’t need to provide a good defense here either, because if you’ve seen the episode, you probably already agree with me that he’s a fantastic character, and love him just as much as I do.
I say all of that, and yet I know full well that based on this episode alone, I can’t exactly justify or explain my love of Hercule Satan, though he does get a hell of an introduction here. Satan is very much the kind of egotistical character we’ve come to love in this show, but unlike Vegeta or Freeza, he actually starts off as a genuine hero, entering the #CellGames and stepping up to fight Cell one-on-one, despite not having an inkling of how strong Cell actually is.
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Even as Satan hogs the spotlight in this episode though, both in the narrative itself and also literally taking the spotlight off of Cell and our heroes, we see a glimpse of depth to his character in his detailed explanations of how Cell is pulling off seemingly impossible feats, as well as in his urging to children to not recreate the violence they see on screen at home, aware of how his celebrity makes him a role model.
We also get to see a vulnerable side of Satan, as he is at first baffled by, and then apprehensive in responding to Cell’s detailed personal insults, calling for a commercial break to recover from the shock of Cell seemingly being able to describe his personal history in great detail. He’s also made vulnerable in a much more literal sense, as when we finally see him attempt to take on Cell, he’s swatted away like an annoying bug, slipping down a mountain as a bloody, beaten mess.
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With all of that, you could be forgiven for assuming that the episode is literally just about Hercule Satan and the lead-up to his battle with Cell, but his story actually only takes about a third of the episode’s runtime, with the rest focusing on our main cast’s arrival at the games, and apprehensions about taking part in such a violent contest.
The only two characters who seem to be unaffected by the #CellGames are Goku, due to his love for fighting, and Android 16, who is far too distracted by finally meeting the man of his dreams, the man he wants oh so desperately to kill, and yet cannot bring himself to muster the courage to ask Goku to do so until it is far too late. It is clearly one of the great tragedies in our modern storytelling era, and if anything happens to 16 to stop him from getting to fulfill his dream of killing Goku, then I am going to riot.
#JusticeForAndroid16
Rating: 4.5/5
Stray Observations
I am just now realizing that all of the characters wear pointy boots because Akira Toriyama probably can’t draw or hates drawing feet. And it’s kind of adorable because those pointy boots mesh perfectly with Toriyama’s aesthetic.
Oh, I fucking love Jimmy Firecracker too, he’s exactly the kind of awful, trend-chasing, sleazeball journalist that would cover something like the #CellGames as a wrestling event, and Xander Mobus does a near pitch perfect impersonation of Jeff Bennett’s radio announcer from The Legend of Korra/that same old-school radio announcer voice that you hear when a TV show or movie wants to call back to serialized 1930’s adventure, and I am all about that type of voice.
Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.
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sparrowandbee · 11 months ago
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Chapter 5, Part 2 | Chapter 7
The Sparrow: Chapter 6: Playing to the Crowd
Synopsis: Marian reveals her story to the Capitol during her interview in a last-minute attempt to attract sponsors.
Warnings: Mention of alcoholism and substance abuse, objectification of narrator, some cursing.
Author’s Note: Happy new year, everybody!! I’ve loved seeing more and more Haymitch appreciation, so here’s some more of his POV, hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1780
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Somehow all the plucking and the waxing didn’t hurt as much the second time around. Granted there was less hair, but I think the anxious adrenaline of having to look sympathetic on screen minimised the sting. I barely felt the hairdresser tugging my thick strands into some ridiculous braided updo because my mind was completely elsewhere.
“What should I say?” I tried to turn my head towards Haymitch, who sat nonchalantly on the stool next to the huge red vanity of the dressing room but the stylist quickly snapped me back.
“Don’t worry about it too much. Just answer the questions genuinely.” He replied matter-of-factly, looking up quizzically at the hairstylist's hands working to pin another fake braid atop my head.
From the corner of my eye we shared a knowing glance of how ridiculous this all was.
I didn’t explicitly thank him for the gift… I had a feeling that that was better left unsaid, but everything felt more comfortable between us now. I knew he was truly on my side, no strings attached and the gift was the last piece of proof I needed.
We had been all smiles and jokes that morning, I felt a bit bad for Alder at the breakfast table. I had tried to include him in the conversation but he wasn’t very receptive. Haymitch even offered to be with him before the interview but he refused. Not that Alder needed any help- he got an 8 in training and was good looking enough to charm a crowd.
A little part of me was happy at his indifference towards the mentorship- I selfishly wanted to spend as much time as I could with Haymitch before the Games.
His presence had become a warm, familiar thing that I was absolutely dependent on.
Plus I needed his help now more than ever if I was going to make a successful last-minute plea for sponsors.
“Yeah, but-“ I began replying to Haymitch but the hairstylist cut me off with a monotone “Up.”
I swiftly obeyed until he reached for the tie of my robe, nearly undoing it.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, holding the thick towel material shut.
“Vanilla wants you dressed now,” he said unflinchingly, judging me from behind his pink-rimmed glasses.
“But… with him in the room?” I pointed towards Haymitch who was looking at the ceiling. I was shocked at the stylist’s neutrality as he shrugged. He quite literally couldn't care less about Haymitch’s presence.
“It’s alright, I’ll just…” Haymitch turned the stool around and faced the wall.
As if on queue, five more stylists came into the cramped dressing room and descended on me with another revealing black dress and plenty of glittery oil for my body. Vanilla trailed not far behind. I just hoped this one would be slightly more modest than my parade ensemble.
“You look absolutely gorgeous!” Vanilla exclaimed. That was not a good sign.
She turned me around to the nauseatingly bright full-length mirror and I could barely believe my eyes. Sure, this dress had more fabric, but I felt just as naked.
The dress was mostly just black lace with a low-cut strapless neckline that barely covered my breasts with just a layer of thinly padded lace. My torso was covered by a slightly more opaque mesh but my legs were pretty much exposed despite the gown’s length.
The lace was beautiful, I’ll give her that. It featured the most delicate bouquets of flowers throughout its entire length, but the fabric’s aesthetic value was the least of my concerns as I was strapped into toe-squeezing pointed glossy black high heels.
I felt utterly humiliated, and I was expected to smile and make conversation despite it.
Vanilla held my highlighted shoulders and admired her work in excitement. I didn’t want to look at myself so I turned my eyes up to the smooth white ceiling and crossed my arms to try to conceal what Vanilla’s dress accentuated so well.
After a few seconds she got bored of me and my lack of enthusiasm and wordlessly ushered her hoard of stylists out of the room.
As soon as the door closed behind them I turned around to find Haymitch still looking at the wall.
I smiled. That was considerate of him.
“You can turn around now,” I told him, tightly squeezing my arms over my chest but not having a solution to my exposed legs, “thanks.”
He grinned, looking only at my face.
“I think that gold eye makeup looks really nice. It makes your eyes pop.”
And in that utterly humiliating situation, Haymitch got a genuine, full-toothed smile out of me.
He looked good too. The button-up shirt hugged his subtle musculature just right, and despite the harsh light there was such a warmth on his face.
I loved the way his smile made his cheeks a little round in contrast to his masculine, harsh nose. But by far the best part was that unwavering blue-eyed glaze, so steadfast I could almost pinpoint some love behind it… almost.
I took a step forward, ignoring the pain of my feet. I knew I shouldn’t but-
“Come, come! It’s time to line up!” Vanilla’s high-pitched voice called from outside along with her repeated knocking on the door. It was probably for the best, but I felt slightly disappointed regardless.
I gave Haymitch a stern nod as I walked towards the door- a reassurance that despite it all, I was a woman of my word and tonight I’d stick to my promise. For both of us.
He nodded back just as Vanilla pulled me away.
I took my spot next to the other mentors just as Marian was taking the stage. I stood right in front of the mounted flat-screen as she walked across the stage, her teeth looking paper-white through red-coloured lips. Somehow the same M who was basically folding in on herself just a few minutes ago now stood tall and walked gracefully as she greeted Caesar Flickerman.
She was good at this.
Good.
The audience roared in whistles and claps as M waved some more before taking a seat on the chair across from the interviewer. It was an absolutely unprecedented reaction for a District 12 tribute.
They obviously viewed her as their pretty plaything, the unfortunate styling said as much. But the stubborn, petulant Marian was playing along now, wrapping Caesar and the audience around her freshly manicured finger with a big, fake smile.
“Wow, Marian! It’s hard to believe that such a pretty face hails from the mining district. Tell us, have you ever worked the mines?” Caesar asked through his own toothy smile. It may have been a cheesy question but one that could tug the right heartstrings (and wallets) if M played into it.
“Um, yes, yes.” I could tell she was thrown off by the question but she never dropped her smile. “I was younger than most but-”
“Oh! And how come?” Caesar acted as though every word out of her mouth was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. It was so fake but damn was the audience eating it up. Even the mentors had gone quiet now.
“Well, I was eight years old when my mother died, which left me officially orphaned,” she shifted uncomfortably, letting the facade slip slightly. I hated that she had to do all of this. I hated that I had to encourage it. “But she was never really present, so I’ve been surviving on my own for a long time.”
“Tell us more about that,” Caesar’s voice was full of fabricated pity. I knew she would hate that but it was necessary. Her story would help humanise her and appeal to the performative charity of the sponsors.
I knew her story, most regulars at the Hobb did- everyone at least knew of Edalia Kuns and the child she left when her addiction caught up with her. Her dad was going to be hanged for having orchestrated some sort of rebellion at the mines, but he escaped instead, leaving his girlfriend and newborn daughter. Marian’s mom wasted her last penny on any alcohol, powder, or pill she could get her hands on. She caused such a mess around town, I remember overhearing merchants sharing their relief when they found out she had overdosed. It was despicable.
Marian started working the mines at 16, tragically young to be in such a dangerous, dirty place. Having gotten to know her, I don’t know how she didn’t let it harden her. Despite all of it she still inhabited this world with flowers on her collar and energy to tell stories to the huddled orphans on the street.
“And tell us, what was your first impression of the Capitol after leaving dreary District 12?” Caesar continued probing.
I took a deep breath, not believing that it wasn’t over.
“Oh, well, I’ve been taking some pretty life changing showers.”
The crowd erupted with laughter. They liked her. I knew that that was our goal but I couldn’t help the rising jealousy as I watched the crowd scan her up and down. With just a little more courage I wanted to match on that stage, swoop her away, and give her real clothes. Screw the Games. Screw the sponsors. I just wanted her to be safe.
“Ha! Well that certainly is a charming answer,” Caesar looked out at the crowd who applauded on queue, like well trained baboons, “now the question that is on everyone’s mind: is there a lucky boy back home, Marian?”
Ugh. This question.
Judging by her face, she thought the same thing.
“Oh, no,” her giggle was an intoxicating sound as it escaped from her red lips, “I was too busy trying to survive, unfortunately.”
More laughter. I rolled my eyes on her behalf.
“Well, Marian, it seems like the entire Capitol is in love with you right now!” Caesar exclaimed out to the audience while she gave one last big smile to the camera. She was really good. “And if you win you’ll certainly have your pick of Capitol men!”
She stood up and the crowd followed suit, whistling and cheering as she waved. She looked down and the gold on her eyelids highlighted the warm chestnut colour of her eyes.
The whole ensemble was painfully Capitol, except for that eyeshadow. That color was all Marian- warm, luminous, beautiful.
I didn’t even realise how much I missed her. How much I needed her by my side, the few hours of separation tugged at my heart.
What will happen when she’s gone into the arena?
Whatever the outcome I knew in that moment that I would never recover from Marian Cartwright.
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