#once again hit by the need to go crazy with worldbuilding

[luxaofhesperides]

Human/Mer AU + Bioluminescent Siren Duke ; requested by @justwannabecat!

The human hadn’t been in his territory recently. 

He wasn’t attached or anything, but Duke had started to look forward to seeing him around. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to be under the curious, watchful eyes of a human who could so easily be dragged down into the depths. 

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be indulging this human’s curiosity, trying to lure him closer time after time. Holding the attention of any human is dangerous; Duke’s heard the stories plenty of time. He’s seen the damage humans can do even more. 

There’s just something different about this human, who never dives too deep, who smiles at him and leaves little gifts in the tide pools tucked away from the rest of the beach, hidden from sight. Or rather, usually hidden from sight, since this human is the only one to go there. 

It’s foolish, but Duke actually misses his human. 

It’s not the first time he’d been gone for long stretches of time, but something feels off. There’s worry curling up at the base of his throat, making him swim to the surface more frequently. Steph had given him a look when she caught him, but didn’t say a word. She shouldn’t, really, when she’s been sneaking up to the surface for her own human friend, some small, dangerous human with dark hair and hands that speak more than a voice.

He’d seen her, just once, when he had gone up to splash water and his human then swim away.

Somehow, things felt easier back then. Like the horrors of the world couldn’t reach them among those tide pools. 

It’s reached them now.

Duke’s not expecting to see his human when he swims up to the surface. He’s expecting another quiet night, an empty beach, a dark sky with only the moon casting its lonely light down onto him. 

But when he swims up, his eyes go to a figure on the beach instantly. 

Even from this distance, Duke knows: that’s his human.

He doesn’t think before he’s swimming over, pushing himself faster than he’s ever gone before. It’s low tide, so he can’t get as close as he wants and can’t reach most of the tide pools at all, but it gets him close enough. Human and merfolk vocal chords are different; he can speak in water, but can’t make more than a few hums in air, and humans can’t really do anything in water at all. 

His human is sitting with his knees tucked into his chest on the beach. He’s hiding in his clothes, a hood pulled over his head, but he looks up when Duke drags himself onto the sand. 

Duke can see bruises. Dried blood. A stray tear slipping out of his eyes. 

He wants to ask what’s happened? But all that comes out is a low crooning noise. 

His human laughs, a quiet, bitter noise that makes Duke’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Hey,” he rasps in a low voice. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve had a better time than I did.”

Duke can’t reach his human. The distance between them isn’t great, but it’s too much. He’s already partially out of the water, hands sinking into the wet sand just out of reach of the waves, and he can’t get any farther out. He reaches a hand out, silently pleading for his human to come closer.

The move makes his human soften, some of the hard edge of tension in his body melt away. He gets up and walks into the water, then sits down next to Duke, taking his hand. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

If they were underwater, Duke would be able to say I missed you too. Don’t ever go away so long again. But his human is in no shape to go underwater right now, so Duke presses his hand against his lips and hums lightly. 

They sit in silence for a moment, and Duke realizes that he’s never been this close to any human before. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels like relief, to finally have his human in his reach, safe from the rest of the world. 

He gives him human another moment, then reaches out and carefully pushes his hood back. His human allows it, blinking at him slowly. Without the shadow of the hood, Duke can clearly see the bruise coloring his cheekbone and the cuts going down his temple to his jaw. His split lip is still red with blood, and what little of his throat isn’t hidden by his clothes reveals more bruises wrapped around the delicate column of his neck. 

Duke ghosts his fingers over each of these injuries, hating how easily humans hurt each other. His human leans into the touch despite how it must hurt, something devastating in his expression. 

Who hurt you comes out as a questioning trill. Somehow, it gets the point across.

“It’s alright,” his human says. “Really. I’m not even that hurt. It’s just been a long few months. We never talk much, so you wouldn’t know this, but I have to fight a lot of people. Perils of being a hero, you know?”

Duke knows about heroes. More specifically, he knows about mer heroes. He’s considered being one himself, but the currents shifted and he ended up more a loner, banding with the other rejects of the city to live in the fringes and help only those who wander out too far from the marginally safer waters within. 

He hasn’t heard of any human heroes, but then again, he doesn’t know much about humans at all. Nothing beyond the stories all parents tell their children to scare them away from the surface, or the horror stories kids tell each other in the middle of the night when they want to scare each other.

He hums again to let his human know he’s listening. His human has such a nice voice. Why haven’t they done this before? 

It’s always been a push and pull between them, carefully keeping their distance but always circling back to each other. Duke would let his human swim with him, and his human would let Duke sit safely on the other side of a tide pool, tossing sea shells back and forth between each other.

They don’t even know each other’s names. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could go back in time and do things better. But he’s happy here with his human and he doesn’t want to lose this either.

He’ll just have to make the best of what he has. It’s how he’s always lived after his parents disappeared.

“This really isn’t that bad,” his human says, “I’ve taken worse hits before. It’s just that I couldn’t transform before the attack started, so now my human form is bruised too.”

…Human form? The more Duke hears, the more questions he has. 

Duke hums at a lower octave, placing a hand over his human’s chest. 

His human laughs lightly. “Yeah, I guess we’ve never really talked much about ourselves, did we? I’m human, don’t worry, just not all the time. I… actually, I died a few years ago. But I came back partially. So I’m also half dead still and I can transform into a ghost to fight threats. I’m a hero called Phantom. Actually, Danny Phantom since I was stupid enough to just give out my first name when I started out. In my defense, my brain was still a little fried.”

There is so much he wants to say to that. He tries, and makes a series of low hums and clicks in the back of his throat, staring at Danny (he finally got his human’s name!) incredulously.

“I promise I’m fine,” Danny continues. “It was just a bit rough. As soon as I get some time to recover, I’ll be good as new! And I really did miss you, you know. Didn’t even go home first, just come straight here.”

That’s honestly really sweet. Duke hums again, a lighter pitch, and takes hold of Danny’s wrist and tugs him towards deeper waters. 

“What? You want me to go in?”

Duke nods, already shuffling his way back out of the sand. 

He expects to look awkward during the process. What he most definitely doesn’t expect is for Danny to easily pick him up and walk them both into the ocean.

Listen. Duke is not a small mer. He’s big. He’s got a long, heavy tail and wide fins going down his back, his forearms, and the sides of his tail. It’s a struggle for him to fit into seaweed nests with his friends during the colder seasons, often left to balance on the edge with his tail hanging out. His friends struggle to pull him through the water with his weight. His parents weren’t able to hold him much after he started growing.

None of this matters to Danny, who acts as if Duke weights nothing at all. 

To his great embarrassment, his fins flare in appreciation for Danny’s strength. He was not expecting a human to be so strong, but Duke’s not about to lie to himself and say it’s not attractive. 

He trills to Danny, who laughs again, then falls into the water, taking them both under. 

Duke doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Danny and swims them further out. He stays close to the surface so Danny can rise for air as needed, but he makes no move to leave Duke’s side even after a few minutes.

He glances back, concerned, when he sees that Danny is watching him with dark eyes, not breathing at all despite being conscious.

Danny holds up a finger and closes his eyes. Two rings of light appear around his waist, then split apart and pass over his body. Instantly, Danny’s body becomes lighter, as if Duke’s hand is grasping at a current on the seabed. His hair turns white and his eyes glow from how bright of a green they are, but there’s something inhuman about his features now, something that makes him look different beyond just physical features. 

Well. Danny did say he could transform.

Now that they’re underwater, Duke can finally speak. The first thing he asks is, “What was that?”

Danny grins at him. “That,” he says, speaking with ease as if he’s not underwater at all, “was my transformation. And this is my ghost form. Quite the look, isn’t it?”

“You can talk down here?! Also, hi, my name’s Duke. Since I never introduced myself.”

“Ghosts can do a lot of things,” Danny answers with a cheeky grin. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been calling you glowfish in my head this whole time.”

“Glowfish?”

“Yeah. Because you, you know,” Danny gestures vaguely at him, “Glow.”

Duke glances down at his back fins, which are indeed glowing. They flare a bit from embarrassment, which just makes the dots of light lining the fins more visible. He doesn’t glow a lot, keeping a tight hold of that ability, but sometimes it comes out anyways when he’s feeling especially happy.

And apparently, he’s always very happy around Danny. 

It’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know what that means, because if anyone of his friends found out, they’d laugh at how obvious he’s being. Drawbacks of being somewhat bioluminescent: anyone familiar with mers who have this feature know exactly what the glow means. 

“Right,” he says just a beat too late. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, can you tell me how you really feel? Those injuries didn’t look too good.”

“It’s fine, really! I take harder hits all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Danny doesn’t answer for a long moment, then sighs. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

“Stay with me for tonight,” he says. “You’ll be safe. You can rest and heal and I’ll keep you safe from anything that comes looking for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Danny doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be exhausted. “Yeah, alright. Take me away, Duke. You know, this is like those stories about sirens luring sailors down into the depths.”

“Well, I am a siren.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I take after my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to sing.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about being dragged down to my watery death.”

Duke snorts. “Good thing you’re already a ghost then. Not much I can do to you down here.”

He swims down, heading towards a small cavern in a sea rock that he’s claimed as his own, leading Danny into it. The light from his fins illuminates the entrance and the rocks within, a narrow passage that goes in for a few meters before opening up into a larger space full of carefully tended to seaweed and starfish decorating the walls. 

There’s a nook tucked away in the back wall where he’s set up a seaweed bed, the plant braided together into something more solid. It’s big enough to fit his tail, which means it’s big enough for him and Danny. 

“Here,” he says, helping Danny down. “Get some sleep. Then you can tell me about what happened in the morning and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’m glad you’re here Duke,” Danny whispers, curling up on his side.  He holds Duke’s hand, twining their fingers together, and it’s as nice as it is strange to feel how cold Danny is in this form when he was so warm as a human. 

“I’ll always be here for you. You just need to come back to me.”

Danny hums, but doesn’t answer. It’s alright; Duke’s used to his loved ones leaving. He knows he can’t make them stay. All he can do is hope they return one day.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone in his home. There’s a communal cave where his friends stay that he visits when he gets lonely, but this place used to be for his family. Now it’s just him.

Him and Danny. 

The last time there was song in these walls, his mother was still around, singing him lullabies. 

Looking down at Danny, curled up and so strangely fragile looking, Duke feels the song build up in his chest. It slips out in low, soft notes, an old melody passed down through generations of their family. 

He sings Danny to sleep.

He sings and sings and sings until all his nightmares are soothed and dawn is almost upon them. 

It’s all he can do, so Duke sings and hopes it’s enough to keep Danny close to him for just a little longer.

[malwaredykes]

I know you mostly post about fnv but I'm curious to know whats your opinion on the other fallouts?

fallout - really Really REALLY good. unforgiving, yes, takes some time getting used to. not without its flaws of course. for example i couldnt for the life of me figure out some very basic shit at first because the UI was designed by rodents i think. very Very engaging once you get past all of that. phenomenal first entry in the series. music, plot, worldbuilding, themes, major characters, mwah. mwah. They Dont Make Em Like That Anymore and there are many good reasons for it but time passed doesnt disappear so you can always play classic fallout.

fallout 2 - thing get weird. some of the highest highs, some of the lowest lows. the highs are really high though. unfortunately has a particular kind of needless edginess to it that gets extremely tiresome. "heeheehhee SECKS *begins to warp violently* heeiiuhehyehye" type. bizarrely racist and misogynistic at many points. contains some of the best voice acting moments in video game history. at many points its just very very tedious, like if with fo1 at some points i was like Well this is kinda rough, with fo2 there were stretches of the game where i was like What the hell am i even doing here Who are these people what is this crap. the enclave as this games evil fucked up faction is so great i love how theyre gradually introduced and then shit hits the fan. has a lot of texture to its worldbuilding and some really good fun moments but again it goes off the rails so much. i rly need to replay it but every time im like God do i really have time for this. i love that you drive a car

fallout 3 - weird fucking game. some truly unjustifiable design and worldbuilding decisions despite having also introduced a lot of rly good things. fun gameplay i mean its that classic falloublivionrim buggy grimy versatile ps3 pure brick ass gravel gamebryo bethesda. VERY funny to have so much of the games plot be like I Gotta Find My Dad like girl i dont care about my dad he can go die. oh wait he does. it has what i call The Martin Septim Problem and i think its kind of self explanatory. fawkes best boy hes my little birthday boy. fun to explore and do your own thing and discover whatevers going on out there. i HATE the brotherhood of steel in fallout the third. i HATE the enclave in fallout the third but i dont think it even comes close to how much i hate the brotherhood of steel in this game and what precedent it set for the rest of bethesda fallout. these creeps. im supposed to find any of this awesome? fuck no. oh also im ENDLESSLY amused by the prologue its like a nightmare sequence akskfnckxjnc. im being BORN?? ive just slid out of my mothers WOMB and CERVIX and VAGINA and theyre bringing up a screen to show her what an ugly monstrosity im gonna be when i grow up and shes like Waoww and she dies??? im a TODDLER? Release Me. Unhand Me You Fool. oh also that sequence where youre in a CRAZY SCIENTISTS SIMULATION is so stupid i love it

fallout 4 - havent played it for longer than 15 minutes (made me barfy). everything i learn about it is bizarre. like WHAT the fuck happens in that game. your old wrinkly son tells you youre stupid and dont need to know anything hes doing and then is like im dying can you take over for me??? also the intro is truly something i mean i dont mind having Some backstory to my character but youre saying i had to be straight married with a baby and living in a nice suburb, with a robot house servant? fuck no

everything else i havent played and have no real Thoughts about

[squarebracket-trickster]

Happy STS! Since you're on the second draft of ur WIP, how was the progress of the first draft? What are some things you learned during it? What is something you would do differently for your next first draft?

It's so rare to see a writeblr going through revisions and i find your commentary very inspiring. One day i too will be telling myself to leave the sentence be for another draft LOLLL

Oooh I love this question so goddamn much!!! (well, ig it's sort of two? three? questions.) I had so much fun answering this<3333 It was an excellent chance at reflection.

How was the progress of the first draft?

(lol I did not intend for my answer to be this long but it just kept going. But I like the idea of being very transparent about the journey because I hear a lot of nice, summed up "one day I sat down and wrote a novel, the next month I had a manuscript and started querying" stories and I think that can be really invalidating for people for whom the journey isn't that smooth if that is the only narrative you hear.)

I think I came up with the story idea some time in 2019. It was one of those, "princess runs away from an arranged marriage but [redacted due to spoilers]" concepts but at the time I was worldbuilding for other things so I put it aside for later.

About a year later, when I had not made much progress on my other WIPs (due to not having enough worldbuilding ideas to carry a fantasy or sci-fi story and banging my head against a wall trying to think up something I was happy with), I decided, ah what the hell, I'll try this instead.

I picked it because it was a simple concept--an idea fit for a standalone novel on the shorter end, with a fairly small setting and requiring little worldbuilding. It seemed like it would be good practice before I seriously tackled my more ambitious WIPs.

It still took a while to actually get writing. I tried three or four times to make an outline--one was more than 8000 words--and ended up scrapping each of them because when I got to actually writing the scenes I had outlined I found them dry and soulless. I was just going through events that needed to happen but there was no emotion, no humour, no themes, nothing. I tried to write the first chapter once or twice but I started the story too early in the timeline and lost the momentum to keep going. Finally, I wrote a scene somewhere in the middle (the one where Sorin figures out Adris is a girl) and it was the first I was actually happy with. I had fun writing it and then reading it again, and it finally felt like there was some "life" behind the plot I had been failing to outline. I rewrote that scene in both first and third person, decided I liked 1st better, and tried to keep adding to it. Then I had about 3600 words. I wrote another scene near the end (when Isadred and Firnen meet; though I changed this later) and it gave me some direction to work towards.

Then I did not touch the project again for several months.

One day in November of 2021 (NaNoWriMo month but I hadn't heard of it yet) I decided to just go for it and put a bunch of time aside to write like crazy. I started from chapter one and had two rules, 1. Start chapter one as late into the story as possible, and 2. keep it going--don't edit (not even spelling unless it is absolutely critical for me to make sense of later), if I get stuck just jump ahead to the next scene I can write, and if I don't know what happens next just ramble about everything that can't happen until I figure out a situation where that does not apply.

It worked. Really well. The next things I knew (about three weeks in) I had roughly 48 000 words. Some days I was hitting 13-14 000 words per day. Then I took a break because uni and came back to it in April 2022. Same rules, same deal. Suddenly I had 112 572 words.

I got stuck on the ending. I wrote a few scenes but didn't like them. So I figured I would just call it a finished manuscript, put it aside for a while, and come back to it when the time was right.

About two months ago I thought up part of a better ending while in the shower and a few weeks ago, just before I started the second draft I figured out the rest. So I knew it was time and I went back to it.

What are some things you learned during it?

I had a lot of fun. I laughed a lot at the banter and dramatic irony, I highlighted my favourite lines to look back on later, and I left funny comments for myself in the margins. The weird part was that I was not expecting it to be fun at all. I see so much writing content about how hard writing is and how much writers hate it, especially first drafts, and I have done my share of banging my head against a wall (especially in my other WIPs) but, for me at least, it is one thing to get stuck on a plot point, but if I am finding every single new sentence to be a struggle to get down it is probably because my story has not come to life yet. I am writing too much from a place of "hit each plot point in my outline" and not enough from a place of "you know what would be fun/gut-wrenching/shocking/funny/clever/insightful?".

Believe it or not, the middle section was the most fun to write.

I have also come to believe ardently in these commonly touted morsels of advice:

if your story is losing momentum after only a few chapters you either don't know where you are going with it or you have started too far before the inciting incident.

Name your first draft draft zero, garbage draft, word vomit (or in my case, "idk what the FUCK this it looks pretty cool tho"), and just expect utter garbage.

Don't look back, just keep going. You know that thing in improv where they do the "yes, and..." exercise? Do that.

If you are stuck on what happens next, skip that scene and go to the next. There is a chance you may not even need the scene you were stuck on. Long time skips in the same chapter are allowed.

If you don't know what to write just sit down and start rambling. As long as you know what you are trying to write towards, eventually you'll end up there and you can cut the bloat later.

Know your climatic moment before you start--not your ending, but the big final showdown the story is building to. You don't have to know how it resolves (I didn't figure that out until like six weeks ago) but know who is in your final battle and where it takes place.

Don't research. Don't worldbuild. If you need a piece of information you don't have, write [insert type of medieval ship here] and move on.

What is something you would do differently for your next first draft?

I am honestly not sure on this one... I do wish I was a more skilled writer prose-wise because my first drafts would need a lot less editing later on if descriptive, poetic prose came as naturally to me as dialogue and emotional one-liners. But all I can really do for that is keep practicing.

The only other thing I wished I had done from the start was keep a journal, log, or blog of my progress, and save some of the funny comments and [somehow our two romantic leads have to sword fight their way out of a masquerade ball in this scene while dressed to the nines] notes-in-brackets I left in the draft but went back and deleted later once I actually filled out the scene. Hence the existence of this blog now.

One of these days I would also like to develop a proper writing schedule to make more consistent progress throughout the year (instead of the random sprints of activity followed by months of not touching it that I do now). But between the ADHD and the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome I don't know when that will happen.

[kaisollisto]

I fear I love this too much, so yeah

"there is a terrible, beautiful new guardian grotesque to be received by the Silva tombhouse from the Salviuses." this sentence rAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, love the way it's written to be received, the imagery here, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,

"families on this hill are not quite rich enough to expand at the pace of the wealthiest among them, who slice and raze to add to their already broad campuses of tombs."

god this bit of detail is so delicious, like there's so much said HERE with just a single sentence. knocking on ur dOOR oPEN UP. I am throwing myself at ur feet.

There is just something about the way you depict Beatrice in her solitude. The peace she has and the environment she has made peace in (/potentially a home in). There's a quiet tenderness here that makes me think fuck i'm gonna get gut punched. The worldbuilding here with just a few lines make me insane. I'm telling you the imagery please believe me, it's insane i'm reading and I can picture it, there is a movie inside of my head. The vibes are vibing and I can taste the air, I can imagine everything. (Also the " It’s said, it’s said, it’s said" yeah yeah that hit me, this definitely felt like a secret I don't know how you did it but it feels like i am one of the books on the shelves hearing about this rumor,)

I am blushing at Lilith's description, whew,,,, i'm keeled over on the floor holding my chest.

"Walls still perfused with the fragrance and vapor of hot homemade stew."

suddenly i feel homesick for feeling I have never desired for and you are to blame ):< AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"It slithers amongst the roots of the living but does not make a home of it."

yeah yeah yeah banging my head against a wall. This did make me bite my fist and cry a little. yeah yeah, clutching my poor beating heart in my chest. you bodied this, ate I fear I will be kept up at night thinking about this. I want inside of your brain. this whole paragraph and description here makes me feel complete, like a good meal.

HELLOOOOO HI teleportation or a form of portalling, i'm rubbing my hands like a lil fly, god i'm intrigued i'm in love, i'm in too deep. Also Beatrice's description of lilith god, there is so much love and admiration in this paragraph. There's so much care underlying here, a hidden history that WE don't know and it makes me sick. SICK. You're sick x: THE GLIMPSE OF more worldbuilding, i fear i cannot handle this. The lore on this is crazy, like suddenly get hit by it in the middle of the day crazy. I'm going to have to lay down. (once again i am shouting at you about the worldbuilding clenching my fist).

i'm in love with your vocab, I find myself constantly looking up words and it's refreshing to see so many new words. But also i'm in awe and amazed, you always know the right word to describe a feeling a scene and i'm gonna need a lobotomy. The description of Beatrice's two heads, i'm actually clawing out my chest. It is all just so Beatrice to a heartwrenching degree.

banging on table I'm fucking telling you your imagery oh my god, i cannot live with this information inside of my brain. It cannot hold place inside of me because I think I will explode. There's something about your descriptions of Ava's mirth that are so HER but also make me teary eyed, like yeah that's our chimerical gargoyle of a bbg. There's something so endearing about this and it's so so so so clear to me how much love you have poured into this i think i might drown.

The thinking of Bea's brain oh i'm shaking, i'm shaking,

"She thinks, distantly, of what someone else wiser than her might say. “They’ll agree with me that you’re certainly unique,” she starts, and it’s like Shannon’s talking through her, stately and gentle. Bold, like Mary. "

actually i'm fucking sobbing, fuck you. oh my god someone wiser than her??? Where Beatrice goes, Shannon + Mary follow. Warrior nun has taught me there is no god just the people who make a home and invite you in. (And I can't fucking take it anymore) The constant reminder that yeah Beatrice loves her people so much (people we were robbed of in the show) never fails to make me the worst version of myself. Beatrice carries them in her and to think when she cannot rely on herself they are there. God what the fuck what the hell. Or on the flipside there is not enough room for Beatrice with all these people in her heart, not enough of her that she cannot trust herself to say something that geniuinely comes from her. Being her is such a new and uncomfortable experience that she has never had reason to try until now. (but that's just a theory a game theory B) ). Regardless Beatrice and the people who have loved and continue to love her make me sick.

Oh the idea that they are gargoyles and will never be anything more than that is sickening, utterly heart wrenching and I do not want to live in a world where this is true. Throwing up, I fear I have forgotten how to breathe. I love this AU I clicked on the post and I FUCKING knew i'd eat this shit up god. Banging on the table I love love loved this. This this this, god i can't imagine who i'd be without this. This, my head is in my hands. The delicacy in which Beatrice holds, regards, Ava already has me fetal position. Pain recognizes pain and to want to be there, to soothe that pain. Sick YOU'RE SICK. But i suppose that is also the true nature of Beatrice. The nature of being guardians, of caring of loving.

love love love this, god i'm a whore for funky au's. i will be so chill about the next installment, if there is one, but this, this has my love.

WIP... Wednesday

Tagged by @willowedhepatica  (thanks!) I'm so sorry that this comes so late 😭 life got in the way. Not sure who i can tag who has things in the works they can share, but please Please know if anyone has any snippets or sneak peaks I would love to see them and yell about them with you pleaseee

Not strictly a WIP but here’s just under 3.5k of an oldish experimental AU inspired by this post :’) in this one they’re… *checks notes*, ah, hmm. Chimerical tomb guardians carved from stone.   

-----

It’s a wickedly stormy day when a procession scores up the hill through beating rain and blowing dust, but there’s no time to waste. The wedding will not wait, and on its occasion, as a symbol of the new ties between the families of the bride and the groom, there is a terrible, beautiful new guardian grotesque to be received by the Silva tombhouse from the Salviuses. 

It is surely mounted on the property sometime during the silver-black onslaught of sky upon earth, but Beatrice cannot clearly see it through the rain and the  maze of trees that still separates the Silvas from their neighbors. The families on this hill are not quite rich enough to expand at the pace of the wealthiest among them, who slice and raze to add to their already broad campuses of tombs. Instead, in this part of town, modest, often unmatching clusters dwell amongst the wildflowers and long-lived trees sprayed across the land. 

Beatrice likes the nature. Her perch is kept cool by the damp and dewy mornings, birdsong flickering from above and around. In the filtered haze of heat and light there is some measure of peace too – here, there is less to fight over, and fewer lines of tension between the families. Hidden by farther slopes, there are fewer threats from beyond. And, overshadowed by the lower circuit of large gated tombhouses, there are far milder spoils for aspiring robbers. 

It’s from one of these large inner-city tombhouses that the new stone protector is said to arrive. The Salviuses have money spilling out their hands and down their wrists. It’s said, it’s said, it’s said – it’s whispered in the wind that carries the falling leaves from vine to vane, so easy for Beatrice to stretch up and put an ear to. The pollen clouds dispersed over grass in shapes spelling disruption  and newcomer. It’s gossiped over pages in the library, first with smug nods and just you wait and see, dear, we’re never wrong from the grandfathers and grandmothers as Beatrice pores through the volumes in the upper shelves, precious books pressed so high and so far back that they’re backed into both wall and ceiling. 

Then, inevitably, it carries through the air in the giggles and hushed gasps of the living members of this family, hands curling over yarn and needle as the youngest children breathlessly run and hide behind the walls and in the shadowy pockets of the tombhouse. The Great-great-great Grandmother who had been the first to break the news is mollified by the confirmation, and generously refuses to gloat.

A Silva girl is marrying a Salvius boy, and the Salviuses are pledging a guardian – the spirits know they have too many anyway, but still, a Salvius guardian – to this hill. 

“You’ve got to go over and see what’s going on,” Beatrice is instructed one morning, in no uncertain terms. They’re going over integration by partial fractions on the little platform at the back that looks down over the mills: her, Great-Grandfather, and Lilith, who’s slunk over yet again from the Villaumbrosias’ for some ‘peace and quiet’, and also because Beatrice’s family likes her for some mysterious reason. They pretend it’s because they need the extra pair – or, well, pairs, in Lilith’s case – of eyes. The massive, foreboding, Villaumbrosia affair the next hill over already boasts so many fearsome hands on deck, and they only have one Beatrice. 

Great-grandfather is gentle and teasing about it; Beatrice (and Lilith, although she will never admit it) is his favorite captive audience. 

Of course, it’s easy to treat her as one of their own on mornings like this — quiet summer days when she’s stripped of silica and scale, descended from her weatherworn perch. Devoid of the coarse matter of rock and metal twisted into hungry, flame-spitting fangs, and instead merely a soft-spoken spirit in a youthful skin. When the great grandfathers and mothers and their grandfathers and grandmothers look at her and see dark, almost-human eyes and loosely-bound hair in a bun above her shoulders.  

And when Beatrice walks Lilith out and across the rocky way that leads home, it’s easy for them to wave the two of them off. After all, Lilith is just a young woman with black waves she tucks carefully behind her ears and a handsome, slanting jaw that could almost pass as being real; as being pressed and molded with muscle and mandible and a fragile, mycelial network of vasculature and nerves. Not another delicate illusion that would slip and shatter at the first sign of danger, revealing in a flash the grotesque ugliness within.

There hasn’t been an attack in a while. When there hasn’t been an attack in a while Beatrice thinks the family tends to forget where exactly they hold court.

(Here, cradled close enough within these hills to walk back to where home once was. Children’s handprints on the threshold, coal scribbles on the floor. Walls still perfused with the fragrance and vapor of hot homemade stew.)

This is a graveyard. This is a necropolis, a city of the dead. It slithers amongst the roots of the living but does not make a home of it. In its palm lies the fragile in-between, the sickly sweet intersection where the living and the after-dead mingle like the meeting of two clouds. Within its grounds the family is wont to forget the ruthlessness that’s sometimes needed to keep it in balance.

Once they depart, Beatrice and Lilith’s guises fall away. Invisible to a still-beating heart, two terrible chimeras gouge skid-marks through the dirt to get to the Villaumbrosia citadel before its guests arrive at ten-thirty. Miraculously, only twice during the entire trip does Lilith half-heartedly threaten to snap Beatrice’s tail off. 

They make it there just in time. Beatrice watches as Lilith sweeps her way up the manicured moss columns and melds, in a quick thrash, with the magnificent dark-gray creature of stone that lunges out from the south turret. Frozen like this: mouth curled in a snarl and sharp wings flung out – in mockery, in bombast, in warning; Lilith at her most vindictive and most frightening, the elaborate Villaumbrosia insignia branded hot and painful down her side.

Beatrice knows it hurts, of course. Perhaps less so like this but certainly in the flesh, where it is always red and raw like the day it was carved down Lilith’s ribs in the workshop. Preserved unchanging in the meat as it is preserved forever in the rock. Lilith winces, when she thinks the others aren’t looking, but Beatrice knows. Camila might say something – probably does say something, but Beatrice doesn’t. She understands too well, and after all, what can they do?

After all, this is their work. This is life: whatever is asked of them. For Lilith today, it is to be a showpiece for guests at a bloated, overwrought tea ceremony. Broadly, it is watchman, and protector, and advocate. And at times like these, when there is a stir in the tangled ecosystem of bloodlines and their guardian-creatures, Beatrice is called upon to be an ambassador. 

So, the day after the storm, Beatrice leaves her perch to seek out the Silvas. She glides down from the still-slippery stone, and lands softly on the wet earth, scale meeting fur meeting soil and humid air. 

In her hands – her metaphorical hands – she clasps fistfuls of string that stretch, infinitely thin, to every corner of her tombhouse. She flexes each one and puts it between her teeth as she steps over the threshold and into the trees, testing their elasticity and tensile strength. If there is to be a twang, however minute, she must feel it. There is only one of her at home.

As she approaches the Silva tombhouse the air around her shifts and seems to solidify into a medium both probing and warning. Beatrice stills, allowing the woods to see her and course through her calmness. They know her, of course, and she waits for them to pass on the message to the newest guardian, still incredibly sensitive to the prickle of unfamiliar movement and sound. 

Presently, physically, the world exhales. 

Beatrice cautiously continues forward, until the treeline peels away to reveal the Silva tombhouse.

Tombhouse, as it goes, is a misnomer – a tombhouse is a complex rather than a single shell. It is no single cell for a coffin, but a collection of connected mausoleums and courtyards and passageways and corners and gates, lifted high and tunneled low. And as befitting a clan of esteemed craftsmen, the Silva tombhouse is a harmonious set spiraling outwards in organic whorls. Its walls are scraped clean and brushed beige, curled and leafed and folded in at the edges. Delicate and pretty in its strength in a way Beatrice’s own plain, stoic little set of residences could never be.

At the top of the central mausoleum, bounded by a parapet, rests a flat platform. On that ledge sits the new grotesque. 

Ink-black stone peeks curiously down at Beatrice. 

Immediately it is clear that she is like nothing Beatrice has ever seen before. Yes, as is tradition she is joined and jawed together piecemeal from various symbolic beasts, but this composition and style is unique. 

She’s simultaneously entirely unlike both the typical statues produced by-the-dozen in the workshops, and the specially commissioned sculptures like Beatrice herself. This guardian is a patchwork of shapes and textures Beatrice has only ever seen in the watercolor sketches of her tombhouse’s own library as belonging to exotic creatures from faraway places. Still other elements escape her recognition and description, and everything meshes deftly at smooth, near-invisible seams. 

Perhaps this isn’t surprising in a Salvius guardian – Jillian’s own commission too, it’s rumored. No less should be expected from someone the alchemists and scientists alike shy away from. Jillian Salvius considers herself a traveler, and a collector, and a dabbler, and Beatrice hears that the spokes of her gates are gnarled and carved in strange patterns from foreign lands.

The guardian shifts and cocks her head curiously, and Beatrice pulls herself together sharply.

“Hi,” the creature says. “You must be the neighbor from the east.”

Beatrice snaps back into polite, exceedingly proper posture. She nods, dipping forward in a movement resembling a bow. It makes the high-perched creature giggle, gauzy like air.

“Good morning,” she replies. “My name is Beatrice, and you’re right. How did you know?”

The guardian doesn’t answer. She separates from her stone in a miasma of color, swoops down noisily, and lands, a little clumsily, on a lower ledge. “Two heads, huh?” she says, thoughtfully. “Kinda perfect for the scholars.”

It’s not said judgmentally; more so with a further curious slant of her head, observational and light. Beatrice feels strange and semisolid all over.

She doesn’t correct the new guardian; tell her that no, she hadn’t actually been crafted or blessed for this bloodline, only gifted to them just one generation ago. And gifted rather carelessly, at that; an obligatory token presented upon the death of the benefactor’s tutor.

Before that her two heads were designed not as a tribute to wisdom or a paean to collaboration, but in order to stare proudly over an excessive estate, stretching out in opposite directions over land too vast for merely one head to behold. An arrogant symbol of not just physical, but political reach. She was a status symbol for powerful people – two-faced might be a better descriptor. 

Beatrice has always considered this with some bitterness, but today, she oddly feels no urge to self-flagellate. She feels, suspiciously, nothing at all; a fuzzy blank.

Instead, in response to the guardian, Beatrice blinks. Both of her heads do. They crane and incline together, like long-necked birds bending to convene. She feels sharp ears on each one twitch and flutter.

The creature laughs again. She descends further to the porch, then approaches Beatrice slowly. “I’m Ava,” she introduces herself, finally. Shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ava,” Beatrice repeats, careful and hushed. She parses it over and traces it as though threading a needle – how the strange, simple symmetry of the word, the hypnotic up-down-up of A-V-A,  doesn't begin to encompass the entity approaching her. On cue, Ava does a funny, shuddery motion that cascades down her whole form. 

Beatrice, leaning her heads over old tomes like water jugs tipped over a parched tongue, dreams of fantastical things, from places that often sound even more surreal. And yet before her now stands the most peculiar thing alive yet, that defies everything she’s known and seen. 

Yes, clearer now before her eyes, Ava is a patchwork of impossible parts. 

Up close Beatrice can see she’s also a riverbed of illusory things. Small divots seem to scoop themselves out, sink deep, and then ripple back up into the surface of her body. Bubbling, and collapsing, and reforming, like springs of molten mother-of-pearl. Each little cavity shimmers like roughened gemstones: a gasping, dark blue, like well water under the sun; or a moody green like the light-starved undershade in a storm; or a thawing amber that Beatrice cannot even describe except that it looks like the smell of hot bread with a sweet cream core, tempting and steaming.

“Beatrice,” Ava echoes, her eyes gleaming and dark. They bubble expressively and endlessly deep. Gazing at Beatrice, straight, still and pondering. Searching. 

Silence stretches until it doesn’t. 

Something snaps – a bird on a twig above –  and Ava shakes herself awake. “Where’s my manners!” she exclaims suddenly. “Come on,” she swishes around gamely. Beatrice, bewildered, sneezes. 

She’s learning quickly that when Ava laughs, the dense tassel-like feathers on the back rise in delighted reflex and splay apart. 

The two of them slip between trees into a little glade, buoyed by her relentless charm and a thrumming current of something else, in the undertow.

Once upon a time, this was a courtyard, although now that the Silva tombhouse has unfurled in the opposite direction it’s been allowed to tastefully overgrow into its former self, mossy and scruffy. Old pieces of wall and pillars still cordon off one side; Beatrice resists the temptation to bound about and explore, and instead parks herself primly at a corner, not fidgeting.

Ava has no such compunctions. She wriggles herself into a comfortable position on a large boulder. Her weapon of a tail dangles down and bats at the ground idly, uprooting chunks of grass. 

“How are you finding it here?” Beatrice asks, trying very hard to be normal. 

“Honestly? I don’t know yet,” Ava grins, “and you’re the first one of us I’ve met here.” 

She pauses, cocks her head to one side so strikingly. The gesture almost looks human. “You know, my new folks think very highly of you,” She looks appraisingly over Beatrice with an indecipherable expression.

Beatrice feels quite hot. “Mine are curious about you.”

There is a shift in the air as Ava straightens abruptly. Her tail stills. “What will you tell them?”

Beatrice bites her tongues, undecided. She’d meant to think of it later, to phrase and rephrase and turn the words over and over in her mouth on the way back to get them right. It takes a while, usually, to distill her thoughts precisely into words that balance both insinuation and tone, and half the time it ends up all too stilted and formal anyway. How people seem to be able to do that, off the cuff – it’s confusing. Far easier, Beatrice thinks, to sit quietly beside and let such people do the talking.

Especially now that this seems, somehow, to be important to Ava. And especially now that she finds she doesn’t quite have any of the words.

If Beatrice had hands she would wring them. She thinks, distantly, of what someone else wiser than her might say. “They’ll agree with me that you’re certainly unique,” she starts, and it’s like Shannon’s talking through her, stately and gentle. Bold, like Mary. 

She adds, in an abrupt impulse that’s, alarmingly, all Beatrice, “I do think you’ll fit in well here.”

“Oh,” Ava seems surprised. Her tail, heretofore curled tightly on the boulder, relaxes and turns a loose arc in the air, hacking at the grass. “Thanks,” she looks at Beatrice, and inhales sharply, although not unkindly. 

Pauses. Sheepishly, she adds, “I’ve heard some people, uh, calling me devilish and other things, you see. But you know, it’s fine. Whatever.”

Beatrice grimaces involuntarily, then schools her expression back into an empathetic nod. It’s not unexpected. There’s bound to be a procession of curious gawkers and onlookers filing through to try and catch a glimpse of something hailing from the elusive Salviuses. Beartice knows the type: traditional, gossipy and busybodies.

They’ll take one look up the roof and gasp in disbelief or disgust, probably. Sneer up at the twisted, unnatural proportions, if they’re brave. Ava runs too close to the precipice of their diluted tolerance.

“The Silvas are good people. They’ll stand by you.” Beatrice isn’t sure if it helps, but it’s true. The households here are the little silver lining of this part of town, otherwise ragged and out of the way and a little discordant in its hues.

Ava exhales gently. Beatrice thinks there’s a small smile there. “I know.”

“It doesn’t make it easier.”

“Yeah. I know,” repeats Ava, her eyes shining, and it’s almost like she really does. 

Beatrice understands. They did it to her, too, after all.

The people who commissioned her had made a puppet of her. They had demanded a departure from classical references and therefore affixed to her frame things like startling, swiveling joints and odd angles.  Two heads, of course, among other modifications – all in an arrogant, ambitious drive to defy tradition and create a visionary symbol of fear and envy.  Instead, the lay beholder glanced upon the warped anatomy and thought it blasphemy. And so, Beatrice rapidly became that to her own family too: acrid to the eyes, rotted in the soul, a disembowelment. Failure. An embarrassment. 

The whispers billowed large like cotton sheets drying in the fields, caught and blown out in the wind.

It was a matter of time. Beatrice imagines the tiny family offspring being taught their true oral history in a sugary sick little chant, clapping their chubby hands cheerfully and squealing every grim word, 

Then the old teacher died / and it was a great relief / The family rushed to ready / a token of public grief

Her, of course. Her, and not any of the cruder, more sedate, stone guardians that studded the estate. The small ones who, on a good day, sat patiently and circulated air and respired noisily, and who were not capable of thought or pain. The family had a lot of them lining their walls, not much more than large decorative lumps of dough programmed to trap, waylay, or bite at intruders. 

Instead, they parted ways with the looming, ghastly and elaborate figure that guarded one of their main wings, and painted it as a great outpouring of sadness. Beatrice knew better.

The whole event was swift; almost planned in advance. She’d barely had time to send an urgent warning to Lilith before she was gone – a failed experiment in pomposity that took an unforeseen and regrettable turn into the profane. 

In a matter of days she was transplanted from lush green gardens into dry hills bathed in reedy, half-obscured sunsets. The kind of neighborhood her old family would call avant-garde or ‘forward-thinking’, although with a scoff that betrayed what they really thought.

And at night, looking down to sleeping homes, Beatrice would hear in the nothingness the same whispers splashing down the stone like rain, all over again.

Mindlessly, now, she has the sudden urge to reach out and feel. Fluttering cells or hardened stone, it doesn’t matter. She wants to transmute a hand of tender human pulp and skin, and run fragile fingers softly over the strangest braided foldery and flattening of membrane, bumps and spindles until they catch, pierce and bleed. 

And she so badly wants to tell Ava: I think you’re nightmarish and very beautiful. You would hold an army off this humble hill. like holding out a pathetic little bundle of flowers– but she doesn’t. It’s too long and too much; I’m here. is too short, and both are too naked. She’s not that kind of creature. She’s carved from solid rock and even when she sheds it it still feels like its weight chains her to the earth.

Her voices remain even and steady, somehow. 

“I –This isn’t the customary welcome and introductory visit,” Beatrice confesses, in lieu of it all.

“Oh. It’s not?”

Beatrice shakes her heads. “There’ll need to be a more official one.” 

The overlapping layers of spines along Ava’s limbs rise and then flatten, quickly.  “So I’ll get to see you again soon?” 

Feeling warm, or moist, or something like a pillar of pressurized foam, Beatrice clears her throats. “I suppose so. Yes.”

[itsclydebitches]

re: that ask you posted a couple days ago about the male and female representation in RWBY, part of what makes RWBY's whole 'girl power' thing ring exceptionally hollow to me is the fact that there are like... no women in positions of real power in remnant. like at all. except the big bad.

winter is second in command to james. glynda is second in command to ozpin. all of the headmasters are men (for no discernible reason, imo; why theodore and not dorothea?). the leader of the ace ops was a white man (and then winter seemed to take over clover's position instead of either of the women of color on the team, and she was still second to james). RWBY is an all girl team, but JNPR was led by a boy despite a girl arguably being far more qualified (pyrrha). the happy huntresses are all women, and robyn had no real power to speak of--she didn't even manage to win the election, because jacques rigged it, and then the council ceased to matter. there was one (1) woman on the council, but she was so inconsequential that i can't even remember her name. (i suppose we're lucky it was the guy and not her who james shot lol) jacques controls the SDC instead of willow, even though he's not even a schnee by blood and actually married into the family for power. (and we don't even know how he got it over his wife.)

and then there's the white fang, which ghira led and not kali--and it's ghira who leads menagerie itself, while kali seems to be a housewife. sienna had five minutes of screentime before being brutally killed and her position assumed by adam, a man. cordovin is basically a one off lackey we haven't even thought about before or since. neo was second to roman. you have cinder, sure, who is a second but to salem, a woman, and raven as the leader of the branwen tribe--but what does it really say about your 'girl power' narrative when the only women with genuine systemic power in your world are villains or antagonists with massive bodycounts??

atla has the same sort of problem--a couple great female characters, but all the leadership positions are men (except the kyoshi warriors, an all girls group, and even then the leader of their island is an old man) and the one female mentor figure also turns out to be evil--but it at least has some great writing to help overlook that fact, and it came out in the mid-00's and so has some sort of excuse of being a product of its time. but rwby didn't even start until 2013 and it's still going and still making these kinds of decisions well into 2021.

where is this supposed girl power, exactly? am i really supposed to overlook the very patriarchal worldbuilding just because the title characters are girls?

That's an excellent summary of the situation, anon, and as with so much in RWBY, it comes down to the full context. Any one of these examples isn't necessarily going to mean much on its own. It's when you look at the pattern that you can start making a case for those conclusions: Why is the show marketed on "girl power" set in a world where men hold the vast majority of that power? And, more importantly, why is that setup not the point? We could easily have a story where that lopsided gender dynamic is the problem that the girls are looking to fix, but... that story doesn't exist. Like the problems discussed with Jaune, the supposed point here exists only on the surface. Dig just the tinniest bit — the above — and you hit on a lot of structural problems with this "girl power" world.

To add just a few details to what you've already said:

Salem indeed has power, but she's never allowed to fully use it. Each volume the frustration with this grows as Salem accumulates more abilities and then just sits on them. From literally hiding out for a thousand years to worries that she won't use the Staff in Volumes 9-10, Salem really isn't allowed to be the threat she's presented as on the surface. And yes, this is absolutely due in part to the "She's too OP and the writers don't know how to let her be that powerful while still having the heroes win" issue, but again, context. That problem doesn't exclude others occurring simultaneously.

Same double explanation with Summer. Yes, dead moms are an incredibly common trauma to dump on a protagonist, but it still left Yang and Ruby with Tai as their primary influence. And Qrow. The uncle becomes the extended family influence while Raven is the absent one/eventual antagonist. It's personal power as opposed to political power, but Tai, Qrow, Ozpin, formerly James... most of the mentors are men. Maria, a key exception, has been ignored in that regard. The story announced that she was Qrow's inspiration, setup her being Ruby's new mentor, and then... nothing. Nothing has come of that. She disappeared for a volume and then went off to Amity and was literally forgotten by the story when evacuating everyone was the finale's whole point.

Like that Endgame moment I mentioned, the Happy Huntresses feel a little too forced to me. Yes, it's the same basic idea as in ATLA, but ATLA, as you say, has a lot more going for it. The Happy Huntresses feel... on the nose? Idk exactly how to explain it. Like, "Here they are! Another team of all women! Isn't this how progressive storytelling works? Just ignore how this is a one-off team of minor characters compared to the world building issues discussed above." And if you're not paying attention, you miss just how insignificant they are, with a side of Robyn being, well, Robyn. The Kyoshi Warriors, at least, are based off of Kyoshi. A woman avatar who is a significant part of their history. That is, presumably, why they're an all women warrior group (but who notably still teach Sokka). The Happy Huntresses are all huntresses because...? There's no reason except that meta "We want to look progressive" explanation. Just like having all the women superheroes team up for a hot second so people get excited and ignore the representation problems across, what? 21 films? Don't get me wrong, I love that May is among the Happy Huntresses. I think including her in the explicitly all-women group was one of the better things RWBY has done in a long time, but the rest is still a mess.

RWBY is arguably about these smaller groups as opposed to systematic power (despite the writers trying to work that in with things like the White Fang and the election. Not to mention the implication that everything in Atlas is fine now that evil Ironwood has died and taken the symbol of wealth (the city) with him. We saw a human holding hands with a faunus after all. Racism and corruption solved, I guess.) So yes, our group is dominated by women... but Whitley is the one saving Nora, helping to defeat the Hound (plus Willow), thinking of the airships, and providing the blueprints they need to escape. Salem is our Big Bad, except Ironwood is the one the volume focuses on. Ruby is our leader, but Jaune is the one leading the group into the whale and getting praised for how heroic he is. Ren does more to shake things up, even if he's painted as the one in the wrong. Oscar gets to confront Salem and destroys the whale threat. Ozpin provides the information they need to evacuate. Meanwhile, when the girls do things in Volume 8 it's almost always followed by a long-stint of passiveness. Nora opens the door so she can be unconscious for most of the volume. Penny keeps Amity up so she can also be unconscious for a good chunk of time. Ruby sends her message and then sits in a mansion. Blake fights so she can tearfully beg Ruby to save her. Weiss, as said, takes a backseat to Whitley (and Klein). They forward the plot, absolutely, but comparatively it doesn't feel like enough.

It's that pattern then, no one specific example. More and more the personal power, not just the systematic power already built into Remnant, seems to be coming from the men. Not all the time, but enough that scenes like the tea drinking moment feel like a part of a much larger problem. Pietro taking control, Watts hacking, and Ambrosius literally remaking her when Penny is supposed to already be in control of herself and her fate. Winter being presented as the active mentor to Weiss, only to turn around and claim that Ironwood was actually responsible for everything. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and May straight up commenting on how awful things are out there while Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar lead the charge against Salem — with the latter three doing the most to forward that mission (no fear, semblance, cane). As others have only half-joked, Yang's supposedly badass moment was bringing up a mother she's ignored for six volumes and briefly blowing up the immortal woman for a couple of seconds (with Ironwood's bombs). Even Marrow is arguably the most significant Ace Op after Clover. Vine isn't actually a character, Elm slightly less so, Harriet is there to go crazy and try to drop a bomb (notably before admitting to never-before-existed feelings for Clover), but Marrow? He's the one who breaks out. Who is meant to heroically stand up against Ironwood. Who comments on how awful it is that teenagers are fighting and, regardless of how messed up the moral messages are, is supposedly pushing for active change while all the women in his group, including Winter, insist on maintaining the status quo. Look at all these choices as a whole, it makes throwaway worldbuilding choices like "All the Maidens are women" feel pretty hollow. Why does it matter if Amber is a Maiden if she dies in a flashback so Ozpin can struggle to pass on the power? If Pyrrha dies before becoming one so Jaune can angst about it? If Raven is one and then disappears from the story entirely? If Winter has enough power to break Ironwood's aura, but supposedly had no power throughout every other choice she made getting here? If Penny is one, but is continually controlled by men and then asks another man to help her die? It's just really unconvincing, once you look past the surface excitement of a woman looking cool with magic powers.

When you do consider the whole of the story — both in terms of our world building and who is forwarding the plot in the latter volumes, getting the emotional focus, being proactive, etc. — there are a lot of problems that undermine the presumed message RT wants to write. They say, "girl power" by marketing RWBY with these four women, but too many of the storytelling decisions thoroughly undermine that, revealing what's likely a deeply ingrained, subconscious bias.

[ratsoh-writes]

Masterlist 14

(***) = suggestive

General

he finds a group of homeless mage kids (ut hf mt)

SO acts like a f*ckboi (edge mal charm sans green)

SO needs them to come to a family reunion (sf ul dt fsg butch ace)

kid dresses up a plastic skeleton like them (red cash honey charm wine)

shopping cart riding (all)

SO drove their car into a pond

crazy sib gets adopted by tigers (G oak butch slim pop)

toddler walks in on skelly and SO doing the do (ut uf us)****

flirtacious SO

SO is shy in the streets and gremlin in the sheets (mutt cash charm sugar undyne storm tempest)

Daughter gets cheated on (fsr fsg dt ot ft)

SO tries to save a nest from high winds (sf fsr ft ot hs)

antisocial SO (wine papyrus peaches)

SO dreams of an abandoned mansion (fsg ft us ot ul)

crazy sib chugs sour milk (gt sf hs)

disney land (ul sf fsg)

movie monster needs the loo

fox SO (papyrus mutt charm)

The purr list (all)

SO likes to flaunt the booty****

What to bribe them with (all)

Crush is caught looking at them dopily (fsr fsg ul hf)

ITS THE CIRCLE OF LIFE (all sanses)

pregnancy: who's rather carry or not? (all?)

Hades kidnaps their daughter

Horrors triggers**

Horrors meet their frisk/chara again

8'6 foot SO

their favorite kind of gift

SO is in some sexy cosplay****

he gets teleported to showering crush (ms mf gt sf)

pole dance competition between the dudes

helping SO make a short movie (ut sf fsr fsg ot)

dog has a cicada in its mouth

he switches bodies with his brother and is waken up by brothers SO (ot hs dt gt ft)

stranger opens the car door and kisses skelly (ul ot ft hf)

they catch friends SO cheating (ut us uf ht)

crush says something cute and falls asleep (ul fsr fsg)

chihuahua puppy

you had one job

crush accidentally confesses

they see a car accident (ot uf sf mf)

gym rat SO pulls a hit and run (honey cash mutt coffee slim basil)

cooking competition between red jupiter mutt cash papyrus

wiz sib takes out the bully once and for all (uf sf fsg)

human friend survives breaking the barrier

SO is having a baby! (fsg fsr ft mf mt)

SO is a prankster ice mage

ghostbuster SO (ut fsg hf)

cursed dog 2 (madame don roulette frisk salsa)

kids first driving lesson (sf mf ot)

centaur SO (ft ht us)

SO forgot to get dressed****

wedding vows

SOs wardrobe matches their magics color

Go Kart competition (all)

8'6 SO (hs hf pluto lord slim)

getting called a pet name (toriel edition)

SO uncovered a conspiracy (ut fsg mt)

sister in law is in love with them

toddler walks in on SO and skelly ;)****

Worldbuilding

humans and magic + soul types

Golem monsters

Interactions/Polys

underfell poly

if the classic, swap and horror bros all lived together

boss and charm friendship

butch and charm friendship

ace and charm friendship

snipe and charm friendship

The Mafias

a little on roulette

marriage vows

SO gets their head stuck in the rails + tempest

mafiafell childhood

SO educates a bigot

boss ace bruiser and slim as grandparents

mafiaswap childhood

mafiatale childood

would they choose child or SO?

Horrortale

when willow realized oak was a Disney princess

Underswap

even more proof that star is ADHD

domestic star

stars cooking curse

star with a crush

Fellswap Gold

wine's SO becomes pregnant

wine's crush metaphorically bears her soul

Wine with a crush

Wine's crush is in a collar**

Outertale

Jupiter and a SO that can speak to spirits

Underlust

charm in a baking competition

Undertale

frisk and monster bro

Farmtale

rosemary info

Fellswap

mutt as a dad and lord as an uncle

[hopeswriting]

I meant to do a post about my thoughts on the Daily Life Arc now that I finished rereading it, but I can't seem to find the time and it's been a while now, and if I keep it up I'll forget what my thoughts are to begin with lol, so here's the long story short:

I know it's a long arc, as in it starts being boring and more or less unbearable past some point, because the "gag of the chapter" format only takes you so far, and not actually very far if Amano's humor doesn't work on you much, if at all. I don't think it's an arc you can reread right away/soon either, lest you feel that one flaw even faster.

And I felt it too, starting with the fourty-something chapters I felt like it was dragging on too much, though to be fair that probably had to do too with the fact I knew things much more interesting were coming after that.

Still, all that said, like, it's an enjoyable arc. Amano's humor happens to work on me, and she does it really well, and I liked reading the arc. There are some chapters where you're really asking yourself why they were written for lol, but even then you read it for the characters, and it somehow keeps you going.

And like, even though I think Amano could have seen the fact the comedy was going to turn repetitive and thus boring at some point, and try to diversify it or something, it's just how comedy/humor/gags works? Some jokes land and some doesn't, but for me at least a lot more of them worked than not.

The DLA is a good enough arc is what I'm saying.

------

On than note and on the contrary, of course it's fine if you think it's a bad arc, to each their opinion, but personally I really don't agree it's an unnecessary one.

I'm saying this because apparently it's not uncommon to advice new fans to skip the arc and directly start with the Kokuyo one? (Or so I learned on TV Tropes anyway, this might or might not be still relevent/accurate.)

Now don't get me wrong, the DLA does fail to hook the readers to the story for the reasons stated above, I agree with that, but it literally introduces the main character? And all the other characters, and gets us to know them, and establishes the dynamics between them and why they're the way they are, and, though only in a more or less superficial manner (and more than less) by design of the arc's purpose (not being deep in any way lol), it still gives us an insight into the characters and why they're the way they are. A glimpse into the core of their personality, the "stakes" of their characters, the flaws they have to overcome.

And all that in the context of their daily life, so if you skip it to go directly to the arc that challenges them, you can't appreciate fully how they rise to the challenge, how it shows their growth or reasserts their core values. You can't know how much or what it means, for example, off the top of my head, to have Yamamoto sacrifice his arm to beat Ken, when only a year ago he tried to kill himself over his broken arm. Or Hibari losing against Mukuro, thus telling us how much of a real threat he was. Or Tsuna screaming at Lancia for having hurt his friends, anger on his face, clearly despite himself, that Dame-Tsuna.

All these just wouldn't hit you the same, and it'd be such a shame? I mean I guess the ones who start with the Kokuyo arc go back to read the DLA, or you could compromise like the anime did by splitting the DLA between more serious arcs, but like I said I personally don't find the DLA that bad, so I still wouldn't advice it lol.

Even if, I suppose, it'd mean they might give up on the manga somewhere through the DLA, but like? Some mangas just don't speak to you, and that's fine, and it'd be a little of a shame from my POV as a KHR fan, but still, no big deal.

------

I'm still very impressed with how smoothly Amano went from a gag manga to a shonen one, and how she made it so the DLA still fits with the rest. I mean the sudden change in tone/stakes/etc is jarring, sure, but it's all based on stuff she introduced in the DLA, which she presumably came up with with no intention to ever make it something deeper/more meaningful.

It's easy to believe the foreshadowing, and generally speaking the worldbuilding was planned all along, which, again, probably not, and like? Super impressive.

(Though once more don't get me wrong, there are inconsistencies/plot holes in Amano's plotlines and worldbuilding, but not, like, at their seams, if I can say it like that? It's more often in the details, and it's fairly easy to fill in the blanks ourselves.)

------

Finally it was a lot of fun to rediscover the characters in a new light, and a bit of a disbelieving surprise tbh.

For context before I started my reread of the manga, all this time I was going with the time I read/watched it years ago plus the times I skimmed it, but mostly by all the fanon I was consuming. And it's not to say fanon is wrong per se, but it latched on one to three character's traits, or slapped an easy character archetype on them easy to "relate" to within, and apparently never looked back lol. And also often dialed up those traits (good or bad) in a very noticeable manner.

What I'm saying is, fanon is, in fact, wrong sometimes zldnslsz, and the characters are much more nuanced even in the DLA! (Which still leaves us at a more or less superficial level, because, you know lol, but still!)

------

To name the ones that stood out to me the most:

Nana isn't abused by Iemitsu, nor is she unhappy in her marriage despite Iemitsu being an absent husband (which is not relevent in the context of the DLA, but still, you can tell). She isn't an abusive mother to Tsuna either, and she is literally never an airhead. She literally just isn't, she actually does react very normally to the crazy Reborn brings with him, but much like Yamamoto as long as no one gets hurt (or walks it off), she just brushes it off.

And she has friends she goes listen to piano recitals with, and tries to save on money by eating rests, and gets in two-way arguments with Tsuna, and raises his allowance if he gets better grades to push him to work harder, and all around is just your average mom that really didn't read as just The Mom, if you know what I mean.

She has her flaws, definitely, she's not a great mom, namely is apparently used to call Tsuna Dame-Tsuna, but she's not just that.

She takes care of him, worries over him, and seems to be the only one who hasn't given up on him yet when the story starts. She supports him (though sometimes in a tactless to hurtful way), praises him when he does well, and trusts him to watch over the kids.

She's not that bad is what I'm saying, and 100% redeemable (that is, if you think she needs to be redeemed to begin with, which I actually do think she does, calling Tsuna Dame of all things is just a really shitty thing to do.)

(Though it's interesting to note that she doesn't do it again after what happened with Kyoko iirc, even if she might very well still talk to him in a belittling way at times. I just wish Amano would have commit fully to acknowledge it and resolve it, what with already having made it Kyoko's Dying Will Regret.)

(Edit: I had forgotten but she literally forgets his birthday while preparing someone else's birthday, so I take back that she is 100% redeemable because it's being too nice. But my point still stands.)

------

Haru is literally such a fun character, it makes me even more sad now to know what Amano did with her (nothing ansknslq 😭😂).

She's unhinged, has zero impulse control, does not reflect on the consequences of her lack of impulse control as Tsuna points it out, is ready and willing to throw hands at any given moment and is unapologetic of it, and is the one Amano actually calls an airhead.

The only problem she had with the mafia is that she thought Tsuna was forcing it on Reborn, and when she confirmed it was all true she literally didn't even blink at it, and immediately called herself the future Decimo's wife djosdkkd.

On that note she is literally mafia right from her first appearance, is more or less involved in almost all the mafia shenanigans, was right there with Tsuna & Co when they went to destroy the Tomaso's headquarters.

And like?? Amano could just have left it at that if she wasn't going to do anything else/more with it. Haru had so much potential, and not only Amano did nothing with it, she actually watered her down and took away all her distinct character's traits 😭.

------

Hibari is so much more feral and playful than his fanon cool, overpowered, quiet badass counterpart. Which I love too, don't get me wrong, but these two sides of him don't have to be exclusive!

He talks and smiles and jokes often, and shows off and casually insults you, and licks the blood away from his lips after having beaten bloody other middle schoolers who dared to defy him (I know this happens in the Kokuyo arc, but it illustrates my point the best).

Not much more to add than that, we should just acknowledge that and put it in our works more often.

------

Gokudera is a compelling character from the get go, and as far as the DLA goes, he's the most compelling character second to Tsuna. He's the only one to actually have flashbacks and a backstory. And what stood out to me the most that I don't see often in fanon, is that he's really a good friend.

Yes he has a short fuse and snaps easily and is easy to anger, but he's not always angry. And is seen having and being capable of positive exchanges outside of Tsuna (I'm thinking Yamamoto namely, who's made with Ryohei to be the one he gets angry with the most).

And yes he holds Tsuna on a pedestal and sees him through heavily tinted pink glasses, but even through that he's earnestly a good friend. And tries his best, and is hardworking and overachieving, so much so he messes up without meaning to, but he only ever has honest, straight-forward good intentions behind it all (well, maybe not always lol).

I love him a lot more now is what I'm saying.

------

And Tsuna. I'm not sure I'll be able to articulate my thoughts properly, but like... he's just your average teenager. Which of course is his whole thing, and I'm saying it in a very not judgy way whatsoever, but he's often made to be at least a little more than that, namely about his bullying.

Like, it's kind of dramatised in fics? And I'm not going to elaborate on that more because it might come out wrong and I don't want that, but it's just, like—canonically he is just bullied, simple as that. Like many other teenagers are.

And it's all in a "chill" way (for unfortunate lack of a better word, I don't mean to trivialize bullying at all, it's wrong and unfair and never deserved or okay, just so we're clear), and by the time the story starts Tsuna is used to it and has given up fighting against it, and actually finds refuge and a twisted comfort in embracing his Dame-Tsuna's monicker, because at least he's not gonna hit rock bottom deeper than that if he does.

And I'm not actually going anywhere with this, it's just? It hit me how differently canon and fanon portray his bullying.

Back on the note of him being a (below) average teenager, Tsuna is not an uwu pure cinnamon roll too good for this world.

He's literally so quick to judge and criticise, whether in his head or out loud when he knows more the person (namely Haru lol, poor girl), it was actually a bit of a shock tbh lol. He snaps easily, and is lazy, does not want to try even one bit, and is happy to run away from his responsibilities whenever he can.

And not only I'm not saying that in a judgy way this time either, but I'm actually saying it in a good way. He really felt like your average middle schooler, and it was so refreshing to see. That, plus the fact the narrative never holds it against him, let alone punishes him for it even if he's made to grow out of these traits, and it's literally part of his character arc, is kind of unique for the shonen genre (maybe, I'm not exactly a specialist of shonen mangas lol).

And I can see why you'd want to change it in fics, but personally I think it really makes his character's arc even more meaningful.

[veeranger]

can you maybe talk about Va-11 Hall-A? you talking about it a little made me remember i had to play it so i did and I liked it a lot and would like to hear your opinions as I respect you

its only been a few days but i think ive reached all the conclusions about the game i need to. i think VA-11 HALL-A is a really good game and a great visual novel yes its a visual novel dont @ me im right. actually i think its funny the game tells you to curl up with a blanket and snacks like its gunna be a chill relaxing experience because like tonally speaking its kind of not. theres some heavy shit in the game especially near the end and its not the kind of light chatting simulator you might think it is. not saying i think its a stressful game or anything but i alwys thought that was funny. 

anyway heres my real thoughts. im gunna put it under a readmore for spoilers after a certain point

oh also make sure you play the prologue chapter and the anna demo. those are extremely important despite being hidden behind a nondescript menu icon that the game makes no effort to tell you about. thats genuinely my only complaint about the game 

there’s a quote by mike pondsmith, the creator of the cyberpunk ttrpg about how cyberpunk “...can not be about saving the world. You’re saving yourself or your community. The stakes have to be something that involves the player. You can’t just say, ‘The world is craptastic and you can’t do anything about it.’ No. You don’t have to save the world, but you need to be able to save your mother or the apartment you and your friends live in.” 

and i think that ideology was, intentionally or otherwise, probably otherwise because im pretty sure pondsmith gave this quote a few years after VA-11 HALL-A came out, very clearly captured in this story. Jill and her friends live in this terrible shitty city in a terrible shitty world but thats just the setting yknow. glitch city is a backdrop to tell a series of small scale personal stories, not about “surviving in a hellish dystopian” but just...living in the real world. thats just real life for these people you know. every story told in the game is very personal. nobody is blowing up corporate buildings or igniting a revolution its just like, dorothy reconciling her anxieties about being close to her mother, alma’s family troubles, stella and sei’s mutuals traumas and their close relationship, Jill’s grappling with her own life choices. its nothing crazy its very pedestrian and lowkey, its not exactly something you’d expect from a game with CYBERPUNK stamped on the subtitle but it fits the genre extremely well. 

if nothing else VA-11 HALL-A is extremely well grounded in the reality its set in, everything feels lived in and real, like glitch city is a real place you could go to or something. all those newspaper articles about big events right next to articles about some lilim idol or reruns of a nostalgic anime and the danger/u/ posts about weird conspiracies and arguments about stupid weeb shit it just creates a wholesale sense of realism. i once saw someone complain that in persona 5, you only ever hear other students and people in the streets of tokyo talk about whatever is currently happening in the story and at the time i dismissed it as nitpicking but after VA-11 HALL-A i understand that a little better, it creates a game world that only revolves around the player’s actions and story as opposed to a world that keeps turning on its own that your character just so happens to live in. the story of the game might be about Jill and her friends but the world itself is not centered on them, it doesn’t even know they exist. that’s just excellent worldbuilding imo. 

now at this point i want to talk about Jill’s story and please if you haven’t played  VA-11 HALL-A yet and are reading this and you have any thoughts about playing the game please stop here and go play it first I don’t want to spoil this really good story for you.

man i really liked Jill’s story. i had no idea it was coming so the whole thing sidelined me as much as it did Jill when she heard that Lenore died. the way every aspect of the story was handled was so good. i felt the same way Jill did when she lashed out at Gaby for lashing out at her, i felt the same regret she did after she calmed down and realized she screamed at a grieving little girl and i felt the same kind of anxiety she felt when she had a second chance to talk to Gaby and make things right. every note of the story hit for me and it was just good good good. i liked that Jill was able to come to terms with her own poor choices without hoisting all the blame on herself or absolving herself of any wrongdoing either, i liked that she was able to move on and free herself from feeling shackled to her past but was still able to say that she loved Lenore and still does. i liked that it was a gay story even if it was tragic, it was respectful and well written. i also just love love loved how she was able to reconcile with Gaby and start being her big sister again. obviously if you know me you know that’s something i love and so i was extremely pleased with how they were able to continue that relationship. 

just yknow...its like pondsmith said. you cant save the world but you need to be able to save your mother or the apartment you and your friends live in. Jill is able to save herself, save Gaby, not from dying or anything but just like...just from pain yknow. she helps Dorothy save herself and commit to wanting to be with her mother and that in turn helps Anna. she helps Stella and Sei find closure for a traumatic experience in their lives. But even then she can’t save the bar, or save everyone she loves from living in a horrible world. VA-11 HALL-A still closes down in the end but hopefully if you mixed your drinks right everyone you love is able to move forward a little better than how you found them and i think thats pretty damn cool. VA-11 HALL-A is a really good story and its a neat little game. 

oh also i loved Anna she was such a fun presence. make sure you play the Anna chapter after you beat the game!

[marvinswriting]

old vers

ménage, chapter one

ménage: (noun) the members of a household hi! welcome to my first (posted) original g/t work! its gonna be multi chaptered, this one is pretty much worldbuilding, but there’s more to come!

riley pov

It was night time, the only light in the kitchen was the moonlight filtering softly into the kitchen. The white glow bounced delicately off the counter under the windowsill, illuminating the room. A girl entered the room, walked silently across the tile floor. She walked with purpose, seemingly already knowing what she was looking for- but paused with confusion when the counter was empty. "Where are you hiding?" There was no audible response, but the girl knew better. She looked to the dark corner of the kitchen with a grin. "Hey Audwin". 

A small figure emerged from the shadows, no more than four inches tall. The form moved across the counter, stopping when they reached the moonlight. "You're getting better at sensing where I am." His small voice traveled perfectly across the silent kitchen.

"I've been practicing." The girl said softly, crossing the kitchen. 

This was their friendship. They had two different worlds, two different lives. Yet on late night meetings, they were equal. Nobody knew they hung out. Borrowers would think the boy was reckless and humans would think the girl was crazy. So they met in secrecy. 

They didn’t talk much that night. They simply enjoyed each other’s company.

"You should get to bed." The borrower commented after a while. "You're going to be miserable tomorrow if you don’t."

The girl smiled. "Maybe."

"Definitely." 

The girl laughed. "Fine, I"ll go to bed. Good night, Audwin."

"Until tomorrow." He smiled, watching the girl get up and leave the kitchen, the room falling silent once again.

Lenna laughed, pulling her teddy bear closer to her. “That’s my favorite story.”

“Really?” I smile, closing the book. “I like the one where the borrower fights a mouse.”

“He fights a mouse?!” Lanna sits up in bed wide eyes. “Read it, Riley!”

“No no, you promised one bedtime story and you wouldn't give a problem about going to sleep tonight.”

Lanna pouts. “I’m nine! Why can’t I stay up?”

“Sorry sweets, Rebeckah said it’s bedtime. Look, Kenny fell asleep.” I point across the room to where a blond mop of hair peaked out from under to covers of another bed.

“Kenny is eight. I’m nine.”

“Oh quite the age difference, huh.” When the only response I got was a stuck out tongue, I continued, “Let’s make a deal,” I say, turning to book over in my hand. “I’ll read you two stories before bed tomorrow if you go to bed now.”

Lanna perked up instantly. “Deal!” She throws the covers over her head and I laugh. “Night, Lanna.”

“Goodnight, Riley!”

I smile, turning the lights off in the room, watching the night light reflect off the two beds. Lanna and Kenny were the two youngest children that Rebeckah is fostering. It’s hard to get them to bed when everyone else stays up so late but- I look at the book I’m holding- bedtime stories work magic.

The ‘book’ was a collection of short stories Rebeckah wrote when she was little. She still writes, but not as often. I remember her reading me stories when I was little, and now I read them when Rebeckah is busy. 

Rebeckah works hard. She takes care of six kids, has an at home job, and still has time to write stories of tiny people in the walls. She had to have at least three notebooks full and no two stories are the same. We’ve tried to convince her to publish them but she says they’re personal. Which- I understand, but also if I could write like her, I’d want everyone to know.

I walk downstairs and stop in front of Rebekah’s office, knocking gently on the door.

“Come in!”

I step into the work, holding up the book. “Just wanted to put this back.”

“Kenny give you any problems about bed?”

“No, it was actually Lanna.”

Rebeckah raises her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I grin, placing the notebook amongst the others on a shelf in the back of the room. “When did you start writing these books?” I ask, my finger trailing across the spine of them.

Rebekah gets up from her desks, standing next to me. “Oh, maybe I was thirteen when I wrote the first one?” She picked up one of the notebooks.

It was evidently the oldest. The spine of the book was loose and the cover was faded. Some of the pages had folded corners and the pen ink smudged in places. Rebeckah turned it over in her hand, opening the back cover. There was a small date I never noticed before written neatly in the bottom right.

“I was fourteen, actually.” 

“You were a good writer for a fourteen year old.” I say. “The stories feel so real.”

Rebeckah simply winks. 

“Thank you, Riley. Now- I’m almost done with my work for tonight but if I want to be done before eight I’m gonna need you to shoo.” She waved me away with a smile.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” I grin, shutting the door to the office behind me. 

It clicks shut, the sound echoing softly through the hallway. Just another typical saturday night. Rebeckah works late, Matteo makes dinner, I put the young ones to bed, and then-

“Riley!” A voice calls from further in the house.

I grin knowingly. Right on cue. “Be quiet Evan, Lanna and Kenny are sleeping!”

There’s no response, probably for the best. Screaming across the house is surely a way to wake the younger kids.

I make my way back up the stairs, creeping past Lanna and Kenny’s room, before slipping into the room at the very end of the hall. “What do the three of you want?”

“Wow, rude. You should know by now” Matteo rolled his eyes, motioning to the tv hooked on the wall across from his bed. 

Matteo was the oldest of all the kids, first to be fostered by Rebeckah, and the one with the nicest room. Him and Megan were the only two who didn’t share a room, but that didn’t mean the older kids didn’t crash in Matteo’s room all the time. I think Evan and I spent more time here then in our own room.

“Riley sits next to me!” Megan grins, patting the spot on the bed next to her. 

Evan had already gotten situated on a chair he pulled up next to the bed.

“I dunno, Meg, Matteo may want to sit on his own bed.”

Matteo and I were seventeen with Evan turning seventeen in two weeks, Megan on the other hand, was barely thirteen. Which wasn’t a problem, I love Meg, but I glanced at the horror movie queued up on Matteo's TV with a raised eyebrow.

Evan raised his hands in defense. “Megan picked it.”

“Really?!” I grin.

“I wanna try and watch it.” Megan smiled as Matteo sat next to her. 

“If you insist.” I shake my head, sitting on the floor in front of Evan. “If you get nightmares, Matteo is dealing with it.”

“I’m a teenager. I’m too big for nightmares.” Megan stuck out her tongue as Matteo hit play. 

“If you say so, Meg.” Evan teased. 

Despite what Meg said, she tapped out halfway through the movie, claiming she was ‘just tired’ and ‘ready for bed’. Matteo, Evan, and I all grinned knowingly but let her leave before finishing the movie ourselves. 

Just another saturday night. 

Rebeckah came up around eleven telling us to go to bed, and Evan and I reluctantly made our way to our room. 

“We’re too old for bedtimes.” Evan whined, changing into his pajamas. 

“Now you sound like Lanna, dude.” I laugh.

Out of everyone in the home, Evan was the closest to me. Both in age and friendship. There’s a reason I share a room with him, not Meg or Lanna. He’s the one to learn all my secrets, not that I could hide anything from him if I tried. 

“So,” Evan grinned, sitting on the edge of my bed, holding out his phone. “I was flirting with this girl, but she turned me down because she’s a lesbian. Which is understandable, but- I told her I know a gal with the same personality as me who’s always complaining about being single. Here’s her photo, and if you want, I can give you her number.”

I laugh. “I don't need you to play wingman for me, I can get all the girls I want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Evan shook his head in disbelief.

“Hey! You’re just as single as I am, dude. Leave me alone.”

“I’m trying to help you Riley.” Evan laughed. “Do you want the number or not?”

“...yes.”

so, no g/t this chapter, bc *worldbuilding* n shit, but uh, thanks for joining me!  wanna be on a taglist? lmk! all feedback is appreciated, go drink water!

[monstersandmaw]

Patreon Plan going forward...

This is copied directly from the public post over on my Patreon. Please remember that ‘here’ refers to Patreon, not Tumblr!

Ok folks, so I've had some more time to think about what I'm going to do, and how Patreon is going to work, at least for the rest of this crazy year called 2020.

I've had a few people leave after announcing that I'll be winding things down, but I've actually had a few more join too, so I wanted to clarify things a little further for everyone.

You may remember from this post I made near the start of August, that I said I wish to focus on writing my novel, Weaver of Threads, and as such, I won't have the time or the energy to continue to post monster stories on here three times a week, as I have been doing.

Some of you expressed interest in the novel, and a few of you also said that you wished to continue to support me as a writer, which really moved me. Writing is my whole life, and without it, I think I probably wouldn't be here, so to know that you value what I create means the world to me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Now, here's what I've decided to do for the forseeable future:

Existing patrons will not be billed for September or October. Towards the end of October, I will make a decision whether to continue simply suspending billing for November and December (the likely option), or whether to unlaunch Patreon (essentially mothballing it. This means no one could access it - including me - but if I decided to relaunch, it would return as it was before, rather than completely deleting everything).

Unfortunately because of the way Patreon works, new patrons will still be charged (once) upon subscribing when billing is suspended, but they will not be charged again until I reactivate monthly billing.

I will not guarantee any new content during suspension of billing, but I may post things as and when anyway, since it's all up here anyway.

Many people were anxious that the stories on Patreon would vanish forever if I closed it down, and I have toyed with the idea of fully re-editing them and then putting them into an anthology e-book. That's still undecided because it'd be a lot of work, but if you'd like a PDF copy of any of the stories on here, let me know and I'll generate one for you (Patrons only). The only condition would be that it's not to be redistributed or posted anywhere, but I know I don't need to worry about that with you folks anyway.

The CYOA story with Gabriel will continue to be finished and posted on here though. There are four more chapters to go and it's all plotted out, with the various options taken into account. It looks like a crazy conspiracy theory in my notebook, but it's all sorted, I promise!

I think I will also complete the Ashridge Pack story, A Door to the Past (vampire), and Winter Solstice (Fae) prior to starting work on my novel. These three stories have all been properly plotted out with chapter outlines now, but it will require a lot of work to finish them all off. Ashridge and Winter Solstice will be released and sold as an e-publication, but patrons will receive a discount code if I can work out how to do that on whatever platform I post them! If I can't manage that, I'll release it on Patreon for you in full before publication.

A Door to the Past will be finished and either posted on Patreon or on Ao3 before hitting Tumblr too.

Depending on how things look when we begin November, I may continue to suspend billing for November and December, giving everyone free and full access to all the posts, but not guaranteeing any new content like monthly stories etc.

If you wish to support me financially during this time when I'm not charging you, there's always my Ko-fi (via Paypal), but no one is under any obligation to do so.

The Novel and Patreon - a tentative plan.

After my outstanding obligations (those three aforementioned multi-part stories and the CYOA) are finished, I may remove the $5 tier, but maintain only the $1 tier.

The Discord server will continue because it's a fun community and it's a nice resource and group of chill people. Once work on the Novel begins in earnest (after I've finished my outstanding obligations), and if there's enough interest, I may share worldbuilding and character info, as well as very short extracts, as I go along. This will be on the $1 tier. Let me know if there's still interest.

I plan on participating in NaNoWriMo again this year, working on Weaver of Threads. I may share my progress and extracts with you on Patreon from that too. The 'writing' and 'library' channels on Discord will probably feature a number of us sharing and stressing together, so feel free to join in! If your Discord account is not linked to Patreon, I'd suggest doing that because it's the easiest way to make sure you're linked up, otherwise, ask me and I'll generate an invite for you. Discord is for Patrons past and present, so even if you're not able to remain a patron, you can still be a part of our chilled out server.

Other Patreon rewards:

I had hoped to get my Etsy shop up and running sooner, and thus create discount codes for you, but I haven't had the chance, though I've made a lot of progress and investments in tech/equipment. I will share any discount codes on the Discord server when the Etsy shop is fully operational, so that you can still have access to these benefits.

Before I close Patreon, I will hopefully run one final mailout, featuring artwork (commissions) by Melonberri and Ilustrariane (permission has been granted!), as well as some of my own stickers and artwork. This will be done as before, with a confidential Google form where you will be required to fill in your details for postage. This info, as ever, will only be used for the purposes of the mailout and won't be shared anywhere or used by anyone other than me for that. More info to come on that front. Anything left over from this will be sold as grab bags via Ko-fi on Tumblr.

Any questions?

I realise that this is a lot of information and a lot of change. Thank you for your patience, and I hope that everything is clear. If not, do get in touch! Please leave me a comment below with your question, or get in touch on here in the private message function (it's clunky, be warned!), or on Discord or Tumblr. I want to keep you involved, and I want you to know that I value all the support you've shown me.

Thank you! G x

Patreon Story Masterlist (free to view/browse)

[twooruguitas-archived]

Queen Belle, Seven Dwarves, Hades, and Mother Gothel 💖

Hi thank youuuuu  💙 sorry, I’m rly late with replies and asks but I appreciate each one @hersilentlanguage

Descendants Ask Meme

Queen Belle: Which three Descendants fics are you currently reading and/or have recently enjoyed?

So I haven’t spent a lot of time on AO3 lately but here are some fics that I’ve read before that I wholeheartedly recommend:

By @addisonwells on Tumblr 

but you and i (we’ll be just fine) ; Lonnie, Doug and soft angst about Auradon’s all around fucked up-ness. 

and there was a kid with a head full of doubt (so i’ll scream until i die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out); Doug, Lonnie, Aziz, Jane and other forgotten characters that I love dearly. A lot of lore and backstory for Doug, Soft angst, friendship, worldbuilding. I cried so much

By other authors:

Necronaissance, a Story of Impossible Children; Worldbuilding, humour, angst and a lot more.By @amityravenclawelf

Heroes and Villains:So Much More; (series) an amazing retelling of D1 with a bigger focus on worldbuilding and some characters that I adore like Lonnie and Aziz, plus OC  Raina, daughter of Robin Hood. i binge read this while i was supposed to be working on my college app...last Christmas. It’s literally amazing

Seven Dwarves: You can pick any seven characters to be your roommates. Who are they and why?

Okay to be frank, Idt it’d be a good idea to put me in a room with seven other people. I’m too much of an introvert for that. Let’s give it a shot though (I’m only counting movie characters because otherwise we’d be here all night

Evie; because she’s great, she could help me with my fashion and make-up (which I rly suck at) and also, I need a mom friend to send me to bed early. She just has a lot of good warm vibes??

Ben; just so I could make sure that he gets enough rest. Also, I feel like we’d get along rly well because we’re both overworked introverts. He’s rly chill but also rly cool, like he literally changed the course of history??? King shit (pun intended)

Carlos; HE HAS A PUPPY. I WANNA SHARE A ROOM WITH THE PUPPY. but also he could help me with my science homework and again, I feel like we’d get along rly well because we both just wanna mind our business. and he’s rly sweet

Lonnie; queen shit. also, we could bake cookies together and she could teach me some cool swordfighting movies. would probs get me to be more confident and stuff

Mal; girl has a sense of humour. also, an artist like me (well, I do writing more than I do drawing but still art) so we’d probably have a lot more things in common than expected. also, thriving on external validation and not being sure who you are because of it?? that’s also me?? we could help each other with that. 

Jane; again, we have a lot in common. we’re both kinda shy girls with overbearing mothers (oops someone’s oversharing tonight) who just wanna discover the world more. I’d be willing to play guinea pig when she’s practicing her magic and we’d probably hit it off right away

Uma; also queen shit. I’d love to sail with her once in a while or maybe even visit Atlantica with her. Also, again, she could help me with my confidence issues with her brutal honesty and all around no nonsense attitude. 

Hades: Which three Descendants songs are you singing to survive your dank cave imprisonment? 

This was a tough choice but: Queen of Mean, Space Between, You and Me, 

And if I may add: Night Falls, Do what you gotta do, Chillin like a villain, If Only (am I the only one who rly  likes Mal’s existential crisis songs?)

Mother Gothel: If you had to spend a year alone with just one character, who would it be and why?

See, I wanted to say Jane but then I realized that two anxious people alone for one year is a recipe for disaster, we’d drive each other crazy lol. So I’ll go for Lonnie because hey, stress baking. Also, those swordfighting exercises would probs help me stay fit, esp if this is quarantine (too soon?). She also seems like the kind of gal that could handle really stresful situations more easily. I mean, she didn’t hesitate AT ALL when she went to fight a pirate crew on the Isle of the Lost...

[noddytheornithopod]

Holy shit my thoughts on Mind over Mutant got surprisingly complicated so uh here’s a massive discussion under the cut, lol.

Out of all the main post Naughty Dog games... this might be my favourite after all? It’s far from perfect, but I think I had the most satisfying experience overall.

To start, visually everything looks pretty good. Granted I’m using the PS2 version which has a few visual bugs because it was designed for Wii and X360 graphics more, but generally I like how it holds up? Shame 360 emulators aren’t a thing as of now, and I’m not buying some old console just for one game, lol. Speaking of PS2, there’s no Coco option because apparently her moves were too complex for the system, RIP.

To start... yes, fuck the backtracking. It’s perfectly reasonably why this pisses people off. For me, it’s mainly the transition between Wumpa Island and the Ratcicle Kingdom since you have to go through AND back twice, with little variation. Other paths at least have you only needing to retread once for the story or there’s a new extra path in it that unlocks. At least some of the enemies change up I guess? But honestly, I think what bugs me more is that it’s not exactly consistent in its implementation. Because for a while, yeah you’re going back and forth retreading old ground, but then you get the key for the Junkyard on Wumpa Island and you’re just teleported to the Junkyard gate. Same thing happens when you get the Uka Uka bones. And of course, there’s the teleporters to find said bones, which is kind of striking a middle ground. Basically... it’s kinda inconsistent. Tedious when it is, but when you suddenly start to get used to it, you’re given massive leaps lol.

There’s stuff from Titans that was changed that I don’t really understand why? For example, the block with Crash no longer has a dodge, and dodging is now purely responding to mutant attacks. I like the addition to help even out things between Crash and mutants, but why no dodge normally? There’s no board sliding anymore, nothing calls for it obviously so it may have been pointless but it is kinda funny. Also Crash’s glide is replaced with the spin drill, which of course has its uses, but I miss having that glide too (you could have both, maybe the drill is by holding square or even pressing triangle, IDK).

On the topic of Crash, I kinda feel like Crash’s gameplay is oddly sidelined? I think it’s because of the mutant storing. Even if there’s less combat, much of the platforming now uses the mutants, and because there’s only some sections where you have to be Crash, it means you end up being Crash rather sparingly unless you really want to stick to him. Like, mutant storing is a good idea and works with the kind of game, but compare to Titans where even if it was more combat focused, the fact you had to use Crash in more parts meant you end up playing as him more than this game, and thus it feels like he has more of a presence with his own move set.

The combat felt off at first, but I ended up realising it’s because I became used to the Titans system... to start, it’s less intense and slower paced. You’re rarely gonna be swarmed so you actually have a chance against enemies. There’s also the mutant mojo upgrades, which means your mutant actually grows stronger with each upgrade, making combat different each time.

I like how they use mojo... for the most part. I like that the mutants can now be upgraded, and Crash of course grows stronger. My one reservation is that the upgrades don’t feel that diverse? In Crash’s case it’s probably because he keeps most of his moves from Titans, but still, only strength and spin upgrades isn’t the most exciting. Same with the mutants, getting stronger and the occasional special attack boost is cool, but it’s not the most exciting. I guess I need to view it like a Ratchet and Clank situation, because that’s what this is more like... including the multiplier. Including a multiplier with your combo level to make mojo worth more helps a lot with upgrading.

Because mutant gameplay is now more diverse instead of just a few classes that do their job, it also comes across as more inconsistent? I like that there’s improvements like them being able to jump now and more attack variations eg from when you block or jump and hit attack, but I also find some of it a bit awkward. Like, many of these attack variations are cool, but the tutorials give fuck all clues to them, so it’s hard to figure everything out.

For example... seriously, it took me ages to figure out how to use the TK in combat. TK is a pretty fun mutant, but until you figure out how to shoot and combine attacks with their telekinesis, you’re gonna be stuck to slow heavy attacks and awkwardly throwing enemies around.

I also find the Rhinoroller awkward. Because of the new moveset compared to Titans, it’s on one hand less slow, but on the other, it can get pretty annoying to control.

Ratcicle feels kind of overdeveloped. They can freeze stuff AND surf on shallow water. I mean, it’s great, but it kinda makes the other mutants look less exciting, lol. But yeah, one of the best mutants in this game because they definitely thought of much.

There’s a few mutants that are fun to play as like Spike, Sludge, and Battler, but unless you go outside the main story, they don’t really feel like they have much of a presence. The introduction pacing feels off, basically.

Snipe and Stench are back as ranged mutants. Snipe suddenly gets an upgrade and is pretty fun to play. Stench I’m not so crazy about, like now their special attack isn’t ranged anymore so that kinda messes up the gameplay with them, and while the fire rate is improved from Titans, every now and then they do a reload animation which I assume was meant to add detail, but all it does is slow the gameplay down and make the rhythm of firing off.

Magmadon is around, and while they aren’t underused, I do think it’s a bit of a missed opportunity with this game’s increased platforming focus that it doesn’t have any fire/lava abilities. There’s only one place that’s too hot for other characters and thus making them necessary too. Like, imagine if you could use it to melt through ice or even metal, eg a door that must be melted down to progress. Sludge’s shrinking ability is only used like two or three times (and I think only one is mandatory), so I think there’s missed opportunities there too. The shapeshifting and extendable arms stuff could’ve made for some cool mechanics. Adding more platforming abilities for mutants might overcomplicate the game of course, but... still. Especially with Sludge, give them some more use, even for secrets and such. Speaking of secrets... Spike needing to use the special attack on that one spiky part on the way to Mt Grimly is pretty random, huh?

Scorporilla and Yuktopus serve their role as the massive powerhouses (and Scorporilla even gets a beefed up melee combo), though I must admit it’s odd Yuktopus is now demoted to a regular enemy/sub-boss class (seeing two in the minigames was surreal when I was young lol). And I mean, random changes in design and stuff is something I find odd in general. I mean, the returning mutants mostly have improved designs, but for others I’m not as sure on, eg Rhinoroller looking less rhino-y, and Sludge suddenly being a boar instead of an frog or chameleon or whatever it was in Titans. Guess some is NV mutations but whatever, lol.

On the topic of enemy design, one thing I miss from Titans is the colour and outfit variations. Maybe they had less time to do it and at least the single models they get look good, but still, it’s a shame. We do get the hero mutants, but the PS2 version fucks up their looks for some reason, lol (and for some reason their mojo upgrades separately from the standard of their species, which is weird, especially since it’s not counted in the game’s completion).

Grimlys are cool, probably my favourite mutant in the game. Kinda funny how they don’t have a block and instead a lock on function, but it makes sense given they’re meant to be used faster than other close range mutants. But yeah, time slowing is so cool it’s even back in Crash 4 with one of the new Quantum Masks. Really helps you rake up that combo count to get all that mojo too.

The minions are... interesting. They mostly do their job, but then suddenly you have Doom Monkeys and Znu that have these massive stun attacks that can get annoying if there’s a lot of them. Slap-Es can block but as long as you’re not Crash they’re as quick as any others. The Doom Monkeys are less annoying in speech too, thankfully.

I get a few audio bugs. Most annoying of which is being unable to hear enemy conversations. But sometimes I just got sound effects cut out for no reason. On the inverse... some of the mutants are very noisy and need to shut up. Aku Aku also sometimes adds commentary when unnecessary, making him feel a bit handholdy. Yes, I’m going to the damn roller village, be patient, dude.

Probably the thing to impress me most revisiting the game is actually the continuity and worldbuilding. I mean, to start, you have all the mutants becoming free and forming their own societies, only for the NVs to turn them into evil warriors again. Said societies are pretty interesting as well.

Wumpa Island is mostly the same (sans all the stranded Ratinicians gone wild lol), but then you have the Ratcicle Kingdom. A Kingdom formed mostly out of ice, and also near Cortex’s evil public school. Nothing like this was in Titans, so was there always a cold part of Wumpa Island, or did the concentration of Ratcicles allow them to make enough ice to form a cold climate and society despite this being tropical nearby? All the designers and stuff are cool, and some of the characters are quite peculiar (I love that one masochist Ratcicle lol).

Then there’s the Ice Prison and Evil School. IDK how the Ice Prison was made, but it seems like it’s Cortex’s doing since the Brat Girls run it AND Evil School (while also being students?). As one of those lore junkies that headcanons Wumpa Island is the second island from the original Crash games, this fits oddly well, because in Twinsanity Cortex suddenly has a massive floating Iceberg lab. Maybe Cortex also made the school and prison nearby, and the Ratcicles took their Wumpa Island residence and connected Cortex’s base. Yeah, I’m getting crazy with my speculation, but the game letting you fuel this is fun. Also cool how the Brat Girls leave Nina after she loses in Titans and end up as Cortex’s grunts, ironically.

The Wasteland seems new, and I assume it’s the evolution of the Lumberyard from Titans. We also have rhinoroller elders even if it’s only two years of existing lol.

The Junkyard is apparently born out of the remains of N Gin’s weapons factory (I heard somewhere the Weapons factory was apparently on N Sanity Island but IDK if that was ever confirmed, it makes more sense it was on Wumpa Island TBH but if it was imagine all that junk moved there lol, TBH Cortex Island could work for the weapons factory too, it would make things less cluttered and it’s possible there’s still unpolluted beaches but whatever). It’s a pretty cool setting, and the Doom Monkeys being in the remains of their old location but under new leadership (and somehow with rockets removed from their heads... maybe they were merely aesthetic? lol) is nice continuity. Judging from the concept art it also seems to be around that volcanic area in Titans, which makes sense given that had more machinery.

Mt Grimly is completely new. Surprisingly it’s not an evolution of the Uka tree (though there is one creepy tree place with the hero Grimly on Wumpa Island), and as a result it’s much harder to work into my 2nd island headcanon (I mean, at least that island always had a giant tree lol). Cool location, but unfortunately we don’t really learn much about its normal state compared to the other worlds, unless it’s permanently inhabited by evil dudes, lol. Also I still wonder what the heck the Znu and Grimlys are. Are the Znu supposed to be the same thing as Grimlies? Are the Grimlys NV transoformed Znu??? Who knows.

Even the changing enemies in revisiting locations relates to the story. For example, the sludges in the Junkyard will say how Slap-Es and Stenches have appeared from “the sky”. Besides random occasional appearances from different mutants in various locations, you also have the Znu and Doom Monkeys moving out of their home levels to the previous ones after you make it through said levels the first time. I’m very perplexed by the sudden increase of Battlers when you revisit evil school and the ice prison paths though... either they’re also favourites of Cortex, or the Brat Girls disappointed Cortex after he saw Crash break into school and Nina helped him and he... used NVs on them to make new Battlers. Other stuff like Snipes in the Wasteland because of the Snipe hero are clear enough, but this one is... interesting.

There are some inconsistencies that bug me though. For one, it feels like nobody acknowledges Cortex’s blog video. Aku Aku acts surprised that N Brio is back and working with Cortex, and later wonders how Brio gets dark mojo even though Cortex explicitly says he’s using Uka for that. IDK, I guess Aku Aku doesn’t like watching internet videos and expected Crash and Coco to do everything, lol (I mean, he doesn’t really acknowledge it after watching anyway). Also a bit confused on how evil school works... it’s implied the Brat Girls are the main students, especially when one NPC says it’s all girls, but the intro video includes all genders and shows non-Brat Girls so... something’s up (maybe the NPC misheard or the ad was lying and only had girls because EVIL). Also apparently there’s another evil school somewhere besides Madame Amberly’s (is it also public? how is it public, is there a government funding these evil schools? did Cortex declare some regime?).

The humour and cutscenes are mostly pretty fun and there’s many funny moments. There are a few jokes that are... questionable at best (Uka I know you’re evil, but you don’t need to be ableist), and some of it probably seems outdated, but I actually appreciate most of it. The 2D cutscenes in different styles simulating changing channels like you have an NV is cool and has some pretty fun jokes with them, though it does suck you don’t see some character models well if at all as a result. The whole satire of consumerism and the latest tech fads was a nice addition (between this and the different mutant powers and stuff, it’s almost a classic Ratchet and Clank type game), not to mention wild stuff like evil recycling (and I mean, green movements ARE co-opted soooo) and many edgy but still mostly jokes I doubt would pass today.

Bosses are fine. Cortex was fun, but Coco was too easy (plus she’s freed from NV control a bit too soon, they could’ve saved her for the Ice Prison or even Evil School or something to raise the stakes, I mean if you’re not gonna fully commit to playable Coco then you may as well go the N Tranced route). Crunch wasn’t as hard as I remember, in fact he was kinda underwhelming. If anything the Scorporilla and Yuktopus acting as sorta sub-bosses in-story were better fights than saving the bandicoots (also one of the sludges says Crunch is Crash’s brother... confirmed?). Also small nitpick but why doesn’t Coco have her evil model in the enemy profiles, even as she has her boss lines?

Music is legit one of my favourite soundtracks in the series, Marc Baril doesn’t get enough credit. He manages to have such a range and it all works so well even as it has a distinct and fitting style.

Voodoo doll collecting is more involved which is cool, and there’s also golden wumpa now serving as health upgrades because we don’t have lives anymore. Yeah, Titans and MoM did gold wumpa first, not CTR:NF and Crash 4. At this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if it showed up even earlier. Minigames are optional too which means less stress for 100% completion, though there’s also the arena minigames (oh hey, more Ratchet and Clank similarities), and they unlock enemy skins... unfortunately unlike Titans which had skins for every enemy, there’s only a few skins here (one for each world’s games), which is disappointing.

Anyway... yeah. Mind over Mutant isn’t as polished as Titans and is a bit messy and inconsistent in some places (most likely because this game has less time than Titans), and some of the backtracking is tedious, but in general I had a pretty good time with it, and was actually pleasantly surprised by some things.

[elencelebrindal]

Favourite colour, music, film, anime? I'm curious

Uuhhh, sorry for the wait, this ask has been waiting in my inbox for a lot by now, but let me answer you. Some of these answers are really long, so I marked them with a title in case people are not interested in everything. Though, I don’t think many people would be interested at all, my life is not that eventful. 

Favorite Color

My favorite color is black (even though black is not technically a color, damn you art school why did you have to teach me that), closely followed by blood red and silver. 

Favorite Music

My favorite music... I don’t really understand if you’re asking me what genre I prefer, or who do I prefer listening to, so I’ll just go the safe route and answer everything at once.  I love metal (especially power metal, epic metal and folk metal, with a significance preference for its viking sub-genre), and I am in love with Blind Guardian, the first ever band I listened to. I still remember the first song I’ve ever listened, which is “Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns)”. Being a Tolkien fan led me to discover them, and subsequently to fall in love with the genre. Among my favorites there’s also Nightwish, Epica, Alestorm, and I’m baffled by Sabaton and Korpiklaani. I do listen to a bunch more bands, but not as much and I don’t know as many songs. 

But it’s not my one and only love. Aside from metal music, I also love classic music (I am deeply in love with a ton of Italian composers alongside the others), dark cabaret music (most notably Aurelio Voltaire, Dresden Dolls and Emilie Autumn, though her style doesn’t really fall into one single category), and I go crazy with anime music and openings.  I appreciate the music of anime so much, even though a lot of people don’t think highly of it, and since childhood I’ve always listened to our “opening singers” (the most important I grew up listening to are Cristina d’Avena and Giorgio Vanni), so I simply cannot stop loving them.  On a similar note, I cannot have enough of movie soundtracks. Composers like Howard Shore, Ennio Morricone, Hans Zimmer... the list could go on forever. I never get tired of their music. Again, videogame soundtracks are on the list of my beloved music as well, especially the music from Skyrim (Jeremy Soule) and Assassin’s Creed (Jesper Kyd). 

Favorite film/movie

I don’t really have one favorite. I do have a list of movies that I could watch over and over again, though, and others I just have fun watching even though they’re not my favorites.  The Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit trilogy are absolutely on the top of my list. As I said, I’m a huge fan of Tolkien, and I’m also a huge fan of Peter Jackson. Add them together and BOOM! I am a tiny bit bitter about the Hobbit movies, but seriously? I still loved it.  Right after them there’s ALL the movies by Tim Burton, Alice in Wonderland and its sequel on top. I love Tim Burton, so much I cannot even explain it. And Alice in Wonderland has a very special place in my heart. 

[story time, you can skip if you want]

Not just because I love the story and the craziness of everything, but because back in high school (my last year) we decided to do Alice in Wonderland with a twist for our theater lab, and I not only got to write the entire script, but also to play the Cheshire Cat alongside all of my friends. My best friend was Alice, my other best friend was the costume designer, a lot of other people I knew and loved were the other characters. It’s such a delightful memory for me that I never stopped enjoying Alice in Wonderland from that day onward.  I got so involved with my part that I ended up making an entire steampunk-ish cosplay of the Cheshire Cat from scratch, a cosplay I brought two times to a convention and I’m currently renovating after taking it apart. This is how much I grew attached to that play and to that character.  Some years ago, before this, we had a director guiding us for two years of theater lab. A delightful man that looked at me and decided I needed to be addressed as “Alice” because of how much I reminded him of her.  It’s just good memories. 

[end of the story time]

I also have the “classics”, like Harry Potter, Star Wars, and the like. If it’s fantasy/sci-fi/something along those lines, I probably love it. Regardless of who made it, being it the writer or the director.  One particular movie that holds a special place in my heart is “The Fall”, and I cannot really pinpoint a reason why I love it so much. I just do.  There’s many titles I can tell you, even more serious ones like “The Imitation Game”, “The Danish Girl”, or “Dallas Buyers Club” and “Fight Club”.  Even though I prefer fantasy themes, there’s significant exceptions.  Old Italian movies are among my favorites too, but they’re just a drop in the ocean.  To close this, I’m going to bring you my love for the entire “Night at the Museum” ordeal and the entire “Jumanji” series (as of now, but I will never love anything more than the original).  I get really excited when I get to talk about this kind of interests, sorry T_T

Favorite Anime

Oh boy.  This sounds like it might be an easy one, given the nature of this blog, but it’s actually not.  In fact, I forgot Saint Seiya was my favorite anime.  You see, I originally watched it when I was nothing but a child, with a memory that obviously wasn’t so good at the time. This eventually led me to forget about how much I loved Saint Seiya, even though its characters never left my mind, and I started gravitating more towards Yu-Gi-Oh!, especially 5D’s. For the longest time I was convinced my absolute favorite was Yu-Gi-Oh!, until I finally started re-watching Saint Seiya and got hit by the memory train. 

But let’s not wander too far away from the question. What’s my favorite anime? Of all time is Saint Seiya, hands down. It has so much to offer, so much diversity, so much story and so many characters. Here in Italy, it has one of the most unique dubs of all time, with dialogues that are aulic (for the Italian fans who are curious --> l’origine del registro aulico dei Cavalieri dello Zodiaco è stato deciso da Enrico Carabelli e  Stefano Cerioni ed è spiegato in questo video, ed è poi stato mantenuto da Ivo de Palma nella serie di Hades) and filled with quotes from authors like Dante Alighieri, Ugo Foscolo and more, an “oddity” that made me fall in love again and again. 

Aside from this, I have another list, because I honestly cannot bring myself to choose only one.  Above all are Yu-Gi-Oh! (in order from best to worst for me --> 5D’s, Duel Monsters, GX, ZeXal, Vrains, Arc-V), My Hero Academia, and Sailor Moon.  Honorable mentions are Attack on Titan, Black Butler, Another, Pretty Cure ( spent basically my entire childhood/teenage years watching them, my favorites are the first two series), One Piece, Dragon Ball, Naruto, Beyblade, Tokyo Mew Mew... this could go on forever.  I’m a sucker for “old” anime as well, so a lot of them are mostly from the 70′s, 80′s, 90′s. Some of them I was so little when I watched it, like for example Card Captor Sakura (I was like three years old and I dressed up as her for Carnival), that I don’t remember them but they still have a place in my heart.  I wasn’t even fixated on one genre and that was it, I watched the hell out of anime and I still do (when I have time). 

I do also watch yaoi (shame on me, I know), and since I’m here telling you about my favorites: I love Dramatical Murder, especially (and you might not believe me) for how creative the story and the worldbuilding are. I’m also shameless enough to have watched the entire game in all its incarnations, so there’s that.  Not only that, I’m shameless enough to have watched more explicit ones, but I’m not telling you ;) I have a reputation here, after all. 

This took a long time for me to answer, and I’m sorry. I legit looked at this in my inbox, tried to conjure up some will to write, failed and went back to bed or to my books. Rinse and repeat for an entire week.  And to all of you who actually made it through this entire thing without getting annoyed/bored, damn you’re determined. 

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

​This entire mess is Ashelin's fault, and everyone else is just along for the ride.

“This is a bad idea!” 

Jak paced relentlessly around the room, fingers dug into his hair making the mess that Jak called a style even worse. He pulled a few strands loose, lips pressed thin and dark eco boiling under his skin. Thankfully he’d yet to start sparking, but to Jak just the burn of the eco alone fueled his panic.

“Jak, it’s the only shot we’ve got,” Ashelin said. She sat cross legged on the couch, elbows on her knees.

Jak shook his head sharply, turned on heel, and growled out, “I didn’t think you’d mean something like this!”

From the wall, Torn sighed. He shot a glance to Ashelin, and then to the agitated teenager and shook his head. This conversation wasn’t going as well as the first, and Torn only figured it’d get worse the more Ashelin pressed. Sometimes she didn’t know when to leave well enough alone—Torn couldn’t fault her for it, really, not when she’d grown up with Baron Praxis as a father.

“Ashe,” Torn chimed in as Jak made another turn, growled, pulled out a bit more hair, and sparked with dark eco. Yeah, this was getting worse. “I think you should go.”

“Torn there is still too much we need to talk about, that Jak needs to know,” Ashelin cut in and Torn sighed. She wouldn’t leave unless she got her way, he could see that. He shot another glance to Jak and pushed off from the wall.

Ashelin, you’ll just have to settle for not getting your way for once, Torn though with a sigh, and then grumbled incoherently as he stalked over to her and pulled her up by the arm.

“Torn! What are you doing!?” Ashelin demanded. She tried to pull herself free, but Torn held her fast. His grip bordered on bruising, but for once Torn decided not to be gentle. If Ashelin lashed out at him, so be it. They could grapple it out right there, but if there was anything Torn knew it was that right now Ashelin needed to be out of the room.

“Escorting you out of the room before the shit hits the fan,” Torn said lowly and dragged Ashelin towards the door. She put up a struggle, but not much of one. Torn found himself thankful for that. He didn’t want to find out who would come out on top in a fight. “Let me handle this, Ashe.”

“But—”

“No,” Torn snapped, opened the door, and unceremoniously shoved her out. “I’ll call you when he’s calmed down.” The door slipped shut in Ashelin’s face. Torn waited for a moment; held his breath. Would Ashelin push it? Nothing happened at first, just silence on the other side of the door. Then suddenly Ashelin slammed her fist into the metal; it rang loud enough that Jak jerked with a snarl on his lips, eco sparking around him almost like a cloud.

“I’ll get preparations ready,” Ashelin said sharply. “And next time don’t touch me like that, Commander.”

Torn snorted. “Yes, ma’am.” He waited a moment longer, and then relaxed when he heard Ashelin finally leave. Exhaustedly Torn ran his hand down his face and tried to muster his courage to face Jak. Honestly this entire thing was such a mess, and if it weren’t the fact that the necks of his men were on the line he wouldn’t have even agreed to go along with the crazy plan Ashelin and Samos cooked up.

“Sit down, Jak,” Torn said as he turned around, but Jak didn’t listen. He paced and pulled at his hair in equal measure and Torn wanted to wince at the mess that spiraled out of Jak’s scalp. They had a lot of work ahead of them, and Torn knew it’d be like pulling teeth the entire way.

“This is insane, Torn. You know that!” Jak snarled, and twisted. His eyes were tinged black when he shot a look at Torn.

Torn shook his head. He made a step towards Jak, slow so as not to spook the teenager. “Look, it’s just a suggestion. You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to. We can find another way. You still have a choice in this, Jak.” Lying to calm down a berserker, not the brightest of ideas you’ve had there, Torn grimaced.

Jak’s eyes narrowed, and like Torn he could tell the lie when he heard it. Torn kept his face impassive despite the fact that even saying the words made him want to punch himself in the face. There wasn’t another option, and Jak knew it. Torn knew it. The only reason why they were going through this mess was because there wasn’t another option.

After a moment of a stare down between the two, Jak snorted and turned away. He uncoiled a bit, muttered petulantly, “That’s a nice sentiment.”

Torn barked a laugh. “Yeah.”

With that, all of the fight just seemed to leave Jak. He flopped onto the couch, leaned forward until his head was between his legs. Torn never saw the kid before look so defeated. It didn’t sit well with him at all. He forced a calming breath out and took a step, and then another, until he knelt down in front of Jak and poked the kid’s forehead until he looked up.

“I don’t like this as much as you,” Torn said carefully.

“Thanks,” Jak grumbled.

“I don’t like that you’re not really getting a choice,” Torn amended. “It’s…Mar, Jak, this is a shitty situation. If there were any other way….”

“But there isn’t,” Jak sighed. “We’re just…gonna leave it up to fucking luck.”

Torn shook his head. “The Shadow is certain you’re the heir to the House of Mar.”

“I was just some kid he took in off the street,” Jak said back sharply. “I could have found that little trinket you all took as a sign of my supposed heritage.”

“You could have,” Torn agreed, “except that the Shadow said Mar’s Tomb recognized you as the heir.” He watched Jak grimace, and then winced himself. Shit, he shouldn’t have brought up the tomb. Bringing up the tomb brought up the mess afterward and that can of kangarats shouldn’t be touched. Torn shook his head, turned, and sat down with his back against the couch tiredly. “I’m not saying it’s not a shitty damn plan. As far as ideas go this is the worst one I’ve heard yet, but Ashelin’s sure of it, the Shadow’s sure of it…and hell, if it works….”

Jak groaned and dropped his head between his knees again. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“You’d better start thinking about it,” Torn sighed. “Or we’re all fucked.” He paused, then added with exhausted humor, “Hell we were already fucked from the start, planning on placing a goddamn kid on the throne….”

“Was that plan before, or after you were going to send a four year old through the ‘trials of manhood’ that included traps that can kill a person?” Jak quarried dryly. He raised his head to look over at Torn.

Torn shrugged, “Hey, that wasn’t my idea.” He glanced to Jak. “For the record I was against that one.”

“Good to know you have some morals,” Jak rolled his eyes. Torn snorted.

“Yeah, well, the KG fucks with everyone no matter how long you’re in for,” Torn said with bitter humor. He rubbed a hand along his neck and shook his head with a sigh. Next to him Jack massaged his temples.

“How long do I have, Torn?” Jak asked.

“I don’t know. A few hours, maybe?” Torn grimaced. Ashelin wanted to push this whole thing through as fast as possible. They’d only first brought the subject up barely the night before last and since then it’d been a whirlwind of preparations. Jak, thankfully, had been rather amenable in the beginning—at least until he got the full details out of the young Baroness. Then the childish petulance settled in and Torn found himself actually missing Jak’s little rat.

If it weren’t for Jak’s insistence that Daxter spend as much time with Tess—Torn didn’t even want to contemplate whatever Tess was doing with the rat, it made his teeth ache—then Torn was certain he’d be right here. In fact he’d probably be a complete nuisance, but then maybe Jak wouldn’t have been ready to eviscerate Ashelin minutes ago. Or he could have egged Jak on, Torn wasn’t sure which it would be.

Jak groaned and leaned back. “Dax is gonna hate me.”

Torn looked over at the kid in surprise. “What? You mean you haven’t told him?” He thought they shared everything with each other. Hell if he didn’t know better he’d have thought they were something more than whatever it was they were to each other.

“Haven’t really had the chance,” Jak mumbled. “He’s probably worried sick.”

“Shit.”

Torn could feel a migraine coming on. He didn’t look forward to the eventual, ensuing explosion that would happen when Daxter would find out. Mar, this was turning into quite the mess.

“You’re going to give me grey hairs before I’m fucking thirty,” Torn grumbled.

“I thought you were thirty,” Jak quipped back and Torn groaned. At least they were past the petulant stage now, if anything, which meant they could probably get the preparations on the road.

“Knowing Ashelin she’s making sure the council chambers are ready,” Torn groaned and heaved himself up. “She’s already gotten the tailor’s things and they’re in the closet.” Torn gestured haphazardly to the closet. “Which just leaves one thing for us to really work on.”

“I hate those clothes,” Jak grumbled. “Why can’t I just go as I am?”

“Because you look like something dragged out of the sewer,” Torn pointed out.

“I was dragged out of the sewer,” Jak countered with a scowl. It wasn’t a lie, he’d been down hunting metal heads and barricading holes in the sewer system for a few hours earlier.

Torn shrugged. “Up soldier. You need a bath, then you need to get dressed,” and here Torn grimaced, “and apparently I’m now in charge of your hair. For Mar’s sake do you ever brush that mess?”

Jak was quiet for a moment, and then he glanced over to Torn with a sort of sheepish smile. “Dax uh usually does that.”

Torn stared at Jak dumbfounded for a moment, before he sighed irritably. “You, kid, are a pain in my ass.” He scrubbed his face. “Shower. Now.”

“Alright, alright,” Jak grumbled. “I’m going.”

Torn breathed in through his nose as Jak’s fingers, sharpened into fine points but thankfully not into the length of claws they could become, dug into the soft tissue of his upper thighs. He kept his hands on Jak’s hair, tugged and parted stands, and as carefully as he could worked in a de-tangle-r to get better purchase. Throughout the entire endeavor so far Torn had kept up a steady commentary even as his voice grew hoarser and his breathing harder.

“You should seriously think about cutting this all off,” Torn grumbled. He kept his face, his chest—every part of him except his hands and his thighs which let Jak know just how far away Torn was, as far away from Jak as possible. The still slightly bleeding slice across his abdomen had been warning enough the first time he’d gotten to close.

Jak grit his teeth and squeezed Torns thighs with a hissed, “No,” that sounded more guttural and animalistic.

Torn shook his head. “Honestly Jak this is just ridiculous.” Torn wasn’t quite wheezing yet, but he found it to be a near thing.

“Then stop messing with it,” Jak snapped back. His head twitched, which pulled Torn’s hand, which pulled Jak’s hair, which lead to Jak letting out a sharp howl of surprise. Pitch black eyes turned back accusingly at Torn, who jerked his hands free.

“If you’d quit moving this would be over faster!” Torn snapped, hands up to show Jak he didn’t mean harm. “And if you keep firing off that Mar forsaken eco you’re going to ruin your clothes!” For a moment he couldn’t catch his breath, and Jak shot him a concerned look as his voice petered out into a hoarse whisper and a wheeze, but Torn stood firm. He was fine.

Jak huffed; the black didn’t leave his eyes and Mar was it weird to see concern within the black of what everyone called a monster. Jak’s nails didn’t return to normal either, and his skin remained eerily pale. Still Torn found himself capable of once more working on Jak’s hair with a grumbled, raspy sigh even as the teenager shifted—this time thankfully just his body—uncomfortably.

“It sits wrong,” Jak growled. Torn could easily imagine him with a pout, eyes glued down at his clothes.

“Welcome to Haven nobility,” Torn said back sarcastically, voice just a tad stronger, “where everything is impractical.”

Jak whined and his fingers let up from Torn’s thighs. Torn sighed in relief, carefully portioned off another piece of hair, and began the torturous braiding and wrapping process that he’d worked so diligently on since Jak came out of the shower, dressed.

“I feel overbalanced,” Jak whined, and tugged at the channeling ring that previously sat over his chest. Now it settled square in the middle of his waist and took up a good chunk from his hips to his ribs in thick leather.

“Stop that,” Torn swatted Jak’s hands away from his waist absentmindedly. He sucked in a breath and it made a sort of whistle. Shit, Torn winced, but continued as if nothing sounded wrong. “You’ll tear the leather.”

“This is stupid,” Jak said back, and shot him another glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah well if you’d just sit still,” Torn growled in response.

At least Jak didn’t feel like he’d go off on a hair trigger anymore. When they first started Torn honestly feared for his life with how tense the teenager grew with each movement. He didn’t want to think of the reason behind Jak’s automatic, practically instinctual response to being touched in what should have been a fairly platonic manner.

“I’m going to fall on my face if I get up,” Jak complained.

“You didn’t fall on your face once from the bathroom to here, Jak,” Torn grumbled. “You’ll be fine.” He tried to catch his breath, and thankfully it didn’t hurt when he finally did.

Torn portioned off another section of hair and went to work. His fingers moved with long practiced ease through Jak’s locks, and a part of him felt greatly pleased that Jak’s hair was quite clearly designed for the twists and braids. If he’d had hair like Erol’s there would have been more of a problem than a few new scars from clawed fingernails.

“Can’t we just call this thing off?”

“It’s too late for that,” Torn sighed.

Both boys jerked towards the door as it slid open. Ashelin stepped into the room and she looked hurried.

“Torn I—” she lifted her head and then froze, before she sharply shook it once. “We have a problem.”

Jak tensed back up and Torn sighed. Great. Couldn’t anything go just right today?

“Ashe now is not a good time,” Torn growled.

Ashelin placed her hands on her hips and scowled right back at him. “Well I wouldn’t have come in here if you had picked up your communicator soldier.”

Torn pressed his lips thin and focused on Jak’s hair and tried to ignore how stiff Jak was in front of him.

“Get on with it, Ashe,” Torn grumbled, silently noted how Jak’s ears pressed back, and carefully dragged his nails along the section of hair he’d already finished. Jak surprisingly relaxed minutely at the touch.

Ashelin shifted from hip to hip and looked towards the window, her lips pressed thin. She didn’t speak and Torn focused entirely on Jak’s hair which for now seemed to keep Jak for the most part still. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier, especially not when the kid sat between his legs and had already injured him as it was.

“It’s missing,” Ashelin said eventually, her voice practically a whisper.

Torn froze, and then with an extremely hoarse wheeze he said, “What?”

In front of him Jak twisted. He pulled his hair out of Torn’s grasp, reached down for the small respirator that sat attached to his shirt and lifted it up over Torn’s face. Torn shot him a momentary glare—Tess had to have told him to do that, damn her. He could take care of himself! Granted breathing did feel easier with the respirator over his face, but having one of his men—and Jak would be one of his men Mar dammit—take care of him always felt a bit awkward in some respects. Still with a huff Torn took the respirator back and focused onto Ashelin. Jak’s hair was almost done anyway and it’d be better to get this potential mess dealt with first.

We’re going to die. Torn grimaced.

“Ashe, what are you talking about?” the commander questioned.

Ashelin licked her lips. “The seal. The one they use for—it’s gone, Torn. My father must have—I can’t believe I didn’t think of it—” the proud Praxis heiress seemed to deflate almost instantly and Torn wanted to quit everything. Life, the guard, this entire mess.

I need a vacation.

“What do you mean it’s missing, Ashe?” Torn said instead, the words ground together like glass in his throat.

Jak glanced between them. “What’s missing?”

“The artifact that’s used to prove heirs to the House of Mar,” Ashelin explained. “Historically it’s been nothing more than a display really. The line of succession has never really been in question before now. At least not that I know of.” Ashelin turned to Torn. “It’s missing.”

“Praxis had something to do with this?” Jak questioned.

“We don’t know that,” Torn interrupted.

“But it’s something just like my father to do,” Ashelin grimly said.

Torn rolled his head back. He wanted to curse ‘children’ even as he tugged away the respirator, it’s job done for the time being.

“There has to be something else, Ashe,” Torn said. “Anything.”

Ashelin trembled. Dammit Torn wanted to drag her over to the bed and wrap her in his arms, she was Mar damned trembling. Ashelin didn’t tremble. Torn dragged his hand down his face and waited, ears primed to hear what she would say.

“It was the only option we had left,” Ashelin’s words were a whisper. Torn spat out a curse so sudden that Jak jolted and tumbled off the bed. Ashelin, over by the door, snorted faintly at the site. Jak merely lifted up one of his middle fingers in response as he pushed himself up with a huff.

“I told you I’d overbalance,” Jak said to Torn.

“Why was it the only option?” Torn questioned. “Aren’t there other artifacts from Mar’s era laying around the city somewhere?”

Jak huffed from the ground, rolled his eyes, and pulled himself up to his knees as Torn and Ashelin talked. Torn wanted to tell the kid to shut up for a moment, that this was serious, but he held himself back. Jak had finally relaxed enough that his eyes were back to normal and even though he looked a little silly, clothes rumpled and hair half done, this conversation was just as important as Jak’s wellbeing.

“Any other artifacts have been missing since before I was either born, or,” Ashelin shrugged. “The only other two I can think of are the Heart of Mar or the Ruby Key, but both disappeared when I was a child.”

Jak, now on his feet, rubbed nervously at the back of his head. “Uh, I know where the Ruby Key is.”

In unison Torn and Ashelin turned, voices practically echoing, “You do?!”

Jak coughed. “Yeah uh…let me call Dax.”

“The rat has it?” Torn wanted to scream.

“No, Tess has it locked up,” Jak snapped back. “Which was Daxter’s idea.”

“How did you get it?” Ashelin demanded. “Where was it? When did you—”

Torn slipped off the bed, around Jak—he slipped his comm into Jak’s hands as he did so—and more gently than earlier grabbed Ashelin and pulled her out of the room.

“Question him on it later,” Torn said under his breath. “The kid’s under a lot of pressure as it is.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure?” Ashelin hissed. “I’m the one trying to make sure you all live!”

Torn sighed. “Ashe. Not now,” he said sharply. “Just…stall. I will call you.”

Ashelin stared up at him, huffed, and stormed from the room. Torn closed his eyes and knew that would just bite him in the ass later.

Daxter lounged on the bar, behind the lip where Tess mixed drinks for the Naughty Ottsel’s patronage. Ever since Jak waltzed in, told Daxter to spend the day with Tess and that he’d handle anything Torn threw at them himself, and then waltzed back out the ottsel moped. Occasionally he’d grab a bottle and drink from it until there wasn’t anything left, but for the most part he just stared at the acohol in melancholy 

“Jak jus’ don’ do this, Tessy,” Daxter moaned again. His eyes remained firmly on the head of Kor that nestled above the mirror.

“I know shnookims,” Tess cooed back, “but maybe he just wants you to get your hero’s reward after all the work you’ve done?”

“Yeah…ya th’ bes’ babe,” Daxter mumbled and rolled over. He grabbed a bottle and pulled out the cork and took a swig.

“Anything for my darling,” Tess said back and scratched behind Daxter’s ears in just the right spot to make him feel better.

They lapsed back into silence with Tess serving drinks and Daxter focused on the bottle between his hands—paws? He still wasn’t used to the whole ottsel thing even if it’d been almost three years now. Oh he certainly found himself better with the transformation now, more comfortable in his skin than he’d been when it first happened, but that didn’t mean Daxter didn’t miss being tall and elfin, or even the buck teeth. Precursors did Daxter miss having his buck teeth. He never expected to miss that part of himself at all.

“It’s jus’,” Daxter began again after Tess shoed a patron over to one of the booths. “It’s jus’ Jak’s not been ‘round since th’ party, y’know? An’, an’ that s’not like ‘im.”

“Maybe Jak’s taking a break, too,” Tess pointed out cheerfully. “It has to be busy work being your sidekick, right?”

“Yeah! Definitely!” Daxter replied. He almost knocked the bottle over, but stopped himself before he could. It’d be a waste of perfectly good alcohol. Tess scratched behind his ears again, and once more they lapsed into silence between them.

Daxter liked that he and Tess could just coexist like this when it came down to the wire. They flirted, they enjoyed each other’s company, and then they could just be with one another. It felt like a slice of home that Daxter sorely missed—now if only he could get rid of the ottsel shape then everything would be absolutely perfect!

Behind the counter Tess’ Underground communicator began to go off. She said to Daxter distractedly, “Can you get that whiskerpuss?”

“Sure Tessy-baby!” Daxter nodded once, set the bottle down, and hopped off the counter. He furrowed his way underneath the bar and found the small device. He scowled when he saw the idea. “Ugh, what does the Tattooed Wonder want now?” Daxter grumbled but quickly smashed the button to answer the call. “Whaddya wa—”

“Oh thank the precursors, Dax!” Jak’s voice came through loud and clear, and Daxter paused.

“JAAAAAAAAK!” Daxter yelled and suddenly had the communicator in a death grip. Any vestiges of alcohol induced haze left him immediately. “Where the hell have you been?” Daxter quickly launched into a full tirade, berating Jak for leaving him behind while alternatively demanding to know if he was okay and just where the hell had he gotten his skinny ass to.

On the line Jak sighed. He let Daxter go off for a little bit before he started to interject. Jak’s voice steadily raised higher and higher, repeating a mantra of “Dax,” with the hope of getting the ottsel to shut up.

“DAX!” Jak snapped in the end.

“WHAT?!” Daxter yelled back.

“TAKE IT OUT BACK BOYS!” Tess followed the raised voices and quickly shoed Daxter out from the front room of the bar. Daxter put on a show of beleaguered acceptance until the door swung shut behind him, both Jak and himself silent after Tess’ reprimand.

There was a moment as the door slipped shut and the hum of the Naughty Ottsel faded before Jak mumbled, “Tess is scary.”

“Damn straight!” Daxter cheered. “That’s my girl!” Jak laughed faintly on the other end. “Now what did you want from the great Orange Lightning,” Daxter drawled out. His voice hit the familiar, low raised pitch that reminded both teens of better days.

“Let’s go back and see the geologist,” Daxter drawled out in Jak’s ear, and Jaked huffed a laugh back.

“I need you to get the key and bring it up to the Palace, Dax,” Jak said. Daxter jerked out of fond memories with a blink of surprise. He stared for a moment at the communicator, as if it had betrayed him, certain he’d heard wrong. “Dax? Hello?”

Daxter squeaked, “The Palace?!”

“Yeah that’s what I—”

“What the HELL are you doing at the fricken Palace Jak!?” Daxter shrieked.

“Look I’ll explain later,” Jak said quickly. “Just…can you get the key and bring it here? Please? Ashelin will meet you at the entrance.”

“Nuh uh, not until you explain your ass here buddy!” Daxter shook his head rapidly. “I’m not doing a thing until I get my answers!”

Jak huffed, and then growled a short, “Dax. Please.”

For a moment Daxter didn’t say anything, and then he sighed. “Fine, but I’m not givin’ the key to Ashelin! She’ll jus’ hafta escort me up to you where ya can explain away.”

“Dax…” Jak didn’t quite whine, but it was a damn near thing. Daxter quirked a smile. Oh yeah, he almost had him where he wanted him.

“No way buddy. Do it my way or don’t do it at all!”

For a moment Jak didn’t say anything. Not a peep came through the communicator. Daxter leaned back against the wall, a smug smile across his face. He could already tell what Jak was thinking. He knew the blond as well as he knew himself, and what he knew was that Jak’s little brain right now just happened to be racing through the multiple ways he could attempt to wheedle Daxter into doing what he wanted. Then Jak would remember the ways Daxter would counter Jak’s wheedling and how, ultimately, Jak would give in.

“…fine,” Jak murmured, “but Dax? Be nice.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about me, baby,” Daxter laughed. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“….that’s what I’m afraid of.”

[imuybemovoko]

My beliefs now

I set this blog up for a bunch of different purposes including conlangs/worldbuilding stuff, my writing, and my views on religion and maybe also politics. So far, mostly, I’ve ranted a lot about the beliefs I left behind. Now that I’ve let that particular sketchy brand of Christianity, now that I’ve discovered the ways it and my conservative family background were probably turning me into a fascist while I was still in all that, I figure I might as well try to hash out where I stand now. I’m around eleven months out from my deconversion, and a lot has already changed. I might try to attempt a before and after thing but there’s a lot to unpack about how I used to think and I’m not sure I’ve understood everything yet. I think I made the mistake of thinking that not very long before that repressed memory about “Sharon” and her Jonah display came crashing back in March. This is current to late July 2020 and may not include everything. 

So without any further ado, let’s talk background. First, some things I’ve already either mentioned or given more than enough evidence for. I used to be a Christian fundamentalist. (Clearly. I rant about it a lot.) I got into that because I was raised religious, then let myself fall right the fuck into what I’ll call “deep end lite” shortly before senior year in high school. Some local churches in my small town arranged a missions trip thing and the way I agreed to go along felt in the moment like surrendering to a voice that’s been speaking to me all along. In ...a way, it was. Just not the voice I thought. I’m pretty sure I didn’t want this god, at any point like ever, until that little part of me whispered that it would be easier to accept him. I have a megathread document that I’ve stored a lot of my “God stories” from my time as a Christian in. Unfortunately I didn’t remember many specific details of this experience to write down in there, but I did write a bit of a “life-story” thing that reminds me that, chronologically, that happened after a period of focused attempts by the church to indoctrinate me, some traumatic things my family did, social struggles, and feeling like an asshole because of things I’d done in the past. I remember having this growing sense over the previous year that I was approaching some kind of very dangerous breaking point, to the point where (trigger warning: mental instability, school shooter mention. Please either stop here or skip to where it says “in other words” in the next paragraph after this if that’s going to be an issue. It also keeps getting dark from there for a minute. Please, please tread with care if you need to. There is no shame at all if this becomes too much. Take care of yourself first and foremost.) 

when discussing how I came to accept the faith, I told some of my Christian friends that I felt like there was a scary chance of me becoming a school shooter. I think this may have been a post-hoc projection, but I can’t quite be sure of that. I was in a bad place for a bit there in high school. I had a wild temper and some sketchy intrusive thoughts.

In other words, it hit at a perfect moment of weakness. That’s how oppressive forms of spirituality function, it’s how hate groups function... it’s a massive shit cocktail and I found a pretty bad influence in the form of people who promote that whole “born again experience” thing in Christianity. I’d say I’m glad I missed out on being dragged into a fascist ideology this way, but uh... I’m no longer convinced I didn’t grow up around something like that. More later. 

From there I spiraled my way through my first attempts at college through the university’s chapter of the Chi Alpha campus ministry and, peripherally through that, Assemblies of God (holy shit those guys are wild), then through a local Baptist church (more peripherally) and Calvary Chapel (I was a worship guitarist here for like 18 months and helped with their youth ministry for almost as long) closer to home and a CRU chapter at my community college. With each passing year I slipped further and further into this weird shame-induced funk where I got like... addicted to Jesus and hated myself or something. It’s a bit hard to find words that don’t take multiple entire extra pages and I want to be concise, so I’ll simply call it “Jesus-flavored depression” for brevity and because that was enough of a genuinely bad time (and I’m still fucked up enough) that I might need some fairly serious therapy.

Near the end of 2018 I was reaching a breaking point, wondering why nothing ever seemed to change in my life from “sexual sin” (...which in my case literally consisted of being attracted to women and occasional self-pleasure, but they literally teach you to hate yourself for less than that in the spicier churches rip) to my direction in life to how trapped I felt by my family. I also started to have more questions about the violence in the Bible and some of the sketchier doctrines, and that was strongly reinforced by some of the things I saw in a creative writing class I took, including an atheist who shared a story of a profoundly negative experience involving being taught about hell at a very young age. All that led to the absolute disaster that was December 2018. It was my last semester at the community college I went to. Finals week was a fucking disaster, and the week before that too, and my grades were really good but at great cost. I won’t go into a ton of detail because 1. space concerns and 2. this time is still damn painful to discuss, but just know that I’m unconvinced I’d have survived that month without this song. (Yes, that’s Paramore. Shut up xD they’re still good.) I looped it for like three days straight and I think it was just enough to keep me going through what was the third time I had any suicidal kind of thoughts ever and by far the worst and longest period of it so far.

So the next several months (and I won’t go into a ton of detail about this, I intended this post more to describe my current position and I don’t wanna get too in the weeds with background) were a confusing period of questioning, starting with, of all things, my family dynamic. The spiral after the week before finals was ...considerably worsened by some comments my dad made, and between that and some experiences in the past that the creative writing class I took that fall reminded me of, I was exposed to a bit of a deeply toxic pattern. I might discuss that more deeply in another post, but for now suffice it to say that extensive youtube binges and some other research between about January and March told me the situation is probably adjacent to pathological narcissism in some way. I brought some of this up to the church I was attending at the time (a small town Calvary Chapel, if I haven’t mentioned that already) and their responses were ...inconsistent. Some people blamed me, some people said “oh dang your dad is abusive”, and some people took the “your parents are trying their best” tack. In retrospect I think that made me doubt if God’s messaging to these people could really be trusted. Then, in about April, the question of hell came up again. I was helping in the church’s budding youth ministry at the time and we had about four regular attendees between the ages of 12 and 18. There were about three weeks in a row when one of the other adults (I’ll call her Kelly for the purposes of not doxxing; also more on her later) talked at length about how unbelief leads to hell. I remembered that atheist from creative writing, made the connection to these four kids, and thought, “what the hell are we doing?” (Pun not intended but rather convenient.) I immediately backed down from my role in the youth ministry, citing other equally valid but less pressing reasons involving stress from the issues with my dad, and tried to go on with life. But the floodgates were open. 

In late May or early June, I was staring out a window one morning and suddenly a question crossed my mind unbidden: “Is God a narcissist?” I thought back to a relatively recent sermon by the associate pastor in which he explained that the purpose of the world was “for God’s glory”, to some apparent sudden flights of rage, and some other factors in the scriptures, and thought, “holy shit, I need to investigate this, because God is also very adjacent to narcissism.” It took a hot minute for the ball to really get rolling with that, but once it did... I came to a point by late June or early July where I delivered an ultimatum to God, something to the tune of “Ok, either show me how all these questions I have can be answered beyond a doubt or I’m done.” 

There was no answer. 

God was silent during this time, and the people in the church were shocked that I had the questions I did and either concerned or ...rather spicy. I joined an ex-Christian discord server to aid in a proper, thorough investigation. I aired my questions both there and on a Christian discord server. The Christian server was toxic as fuck and the ex-Christians started making a crazy amount of sense. I watched some videos from Cosmic Skeptic and TheraminTrees (most notably the latter’s deconversion story) for new perspectives and, by mid-August, had crashed out of the faith altogether.

So the last time I ever stepped into a church with the intent of attending service (I showed up after once in January of 2020 to kinda let them know and that went pretty badly lol) was about two weeks before I started college again in the fall. I burned all but one of my Bibles and a collection of gospel tracts I never did anything else with and stylized it like my limited understanding of what a satanic/pagan ritual looked like, complete with a chant in my conlang Aylaan for a more personal twist because of course, to feel edgy. (I did a lot of kind of weird shit to feel edgy; that’s one of two of them I’m sure I don’t regret.) And after that, things got ...ah, confusing?

Because of course when the linchpin of your understanding of the world gives way, everything becomes fucked for a hot minute. 

So the first thing that happened was a couple months of anxiety and confusion. I slowly started to deconstruct my inherited political views too. (More on that later.) Then I had this really beautiful interesting moment in late September where I walked past a tree on the way to a class and had a sudden realization that I didn’t have to force the tree into a Christian framework anymore, it was just a beautiful mass of green shit and cellulose. I could appreciate it in whatever way I felt was best. I damn near broke down crying in the bathroom before class, it hit me that hard. So that’s fun xD

Since then I’ve kinda gone through a bunch of funky phases with this, including a couple of months of fairly salty atheism. Along with that process, I started questioning my sexuality in December (more on that in another post in a minute lmao it’s a trip) and literally shredding my politics in the face of Trump being a crackhead in a dangerous position getting away with confirmed illegal shit, COVID-19 and the ...dehumanizing responses of corporations and their sponsored politicians, and then what I noticed about the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd and the fallout from that. (In a nutshell, holy FUCK there’s a huge problem and it’s messed up that people don’t see it.) At this point, I’m socially progressive and pretty left leaning. I don’t know what the hell to do about it or how either other than some of the tense discussions I’ve been having, but I’d like to work against racism and discrimination too. So that’s cool and a lot better than where I was... 

which... I regret deeply.

I don’t know exactly how to define my old political views, and they were marked by considerable cognitive dissonance. I’ll try to illustrate this as best I can but I don’t know what label I can use. Here goes. 

Cursed images aside, I think the best way to explain this is through some background, i.e. what my parents believe, because my beliefs were largely inherited. 

This might be majorly over-simplified and based on what I remember of my own pre-deconstruction views and what I hear them say lately. I’m doing my best, but take it with a grain of salt. Basically, it seems like they walk this weird line between constitutionalist and very authoritarian that I see a hell of a lot of in rural America. Kinda like the Republic party used to before they yeeted into Trump’s mindfuck wholeheartedly. They’re homophobic to a rather alarming degree (more on that in another post soon) and not ...overtly Christian-supremacist but you can tell that their ethics are dripping with it and they’re terrified of Islam and they’d like to legislate some aspects of Christian morality. They also support the second amendment, which is the one thing I still agree with them on that I’m aware of, but they take it to more of an extreme than I’m willing to. For further ...flavor, they also reject the premise that parts of our society are systemically racist (and maybe also the idea that such a thing is even possible because of course), subscribe to the “bootstrap theory” for everything they can think to apply it to, reject climate science, and have been extremely conspiratorial about COVID-19. Also they like making it out like everything is a Democrat conspiracy theory, compare the Democrats to Hitler and Stalin to a weird degree, have on at least one occasion called Fox Motherfucking News left-leaning, and think Alex Jones is wacky but sometimes raises valid points. 

So that’s, in a nutshell, a bit of a look at my past political views, except I think I was a bit more Christian-dominionist than them and I think I had moments of “...does this really make any sense?” for years before I crashed out of everything. The first domino was my Christianity, but once that fell, my entire approach to the world went some places. 

So ...yeah. Oof. I was sketchy as shit. Glad that’s changed. 

So uh... I’ve already mentioned a vague (read: as much detail as I feel confident providing) description of my political views now, but after all this bullshit let’s finally get to the other half of my titular current beliefs. This ...isn’t going to be easy to explain either, but I feel more confident going into more detail. Buckle up :^)

Alright. So except for a couple of months where I was like “there is no god reeee” half because I was sOmE hYpErInTeLlEcTuAl SkEpTiC and half because of trauma from the toxic flavor of Christianity I left and some shitty developments in both politics and my social circles (I’ll talk at some length about “Kelly” in a sec here I think), since leaving Christianity I’ve always been what I’ll call “hopeful agnostic” (I think I stole this term from Rhett and/or Link lol). In a nutshell, what that means to me is “there may or may not be a god, but I hope there is at least one and they’re nice, or like, at least some spiritual thing that has a good aspect that can help me”. I also dabble in shitty rituals where I burn dead plants and occasionally also hate literature like gospel tracts (and, that one time, a couple of bibles) and basically call on “anyone who is listening and gives a fuck, else the placebo effect” for whatever my goal is. Like... witchy-adjacent but I don’t think about it very much at this stage. I kind of enjoy it, and I think for one reason or another it can be good for my mental health, but I’m wary of any kind of commitment or even more serious experimentation, even as I hope to find something good, because ...trauma, and maybe even absent that a desire to not be wrong in a way that’s dangerous to anyone else again. So that’s fun :^)

So if you’ve made it this far through this weird bullshit, thanks, this story is kind of important to me xD and if you couldn’t, and you’re not reading this ending thingy because it got too dark or it pissed you off or something, that’s cool too and you’re beautiful and valid. Whoever you are, I hope you find whatever healing you need. :)

[vicleesi]

About GoT Episode 4:

First of all, I’m completely exhausted from turning a blind eye to the multiple flaws in the D & D scripts (and it was they who wrote this episode). The strength of Game of Thrones came right from the details thanks to the incredible world that George R. R. Martin created and D & D destroyed. So no, I will not spare you them.

- The beginning was good. I just do not understand why Jon made his speech without looking at the survivors of Winterfell.

- The party dinner was generally good. In these last seasons, Game of Thrones has managed to maintain a good quality in the interaction between characthers. Episode 2 was basically all that and it was good for me. The problem is when GoT starts off for the story  - which is already lost.

- Daenerys’s loneliness was well portrayed. Too bad the series prematurely killed Selmy Barristan, did not it?

- First failure of attention to detail that detracts from the series’ worldbuilding: Gendry Rivers, what? Is he from the Riverlands, by any chance? Bastard born and raised in King’s Landing is named after Waters. His name was Gendry Waters (actually it was just Gendry, since Robert never recognized him as his bastard son). Why change that, D & D? To be different?

- I wish Gendry good luck trying to persuade the Storm lords to bend over to a bastard who does not understand a thing about ruling a castle. But of course the series will not talk about that. At least they did not give Storm’s to Brienne or to Davos (by the way, when the Davos family will show up?)

- Leaving a bit out of order, but taking advantage of feudal politics, what’s going on in Dorne?” D & D mentioned a new Prince of Dorne who swore loyalty to Daenerys. Hi? What? When? Who? WHY??? D & D had the brilliant idea of ​​making the Martells exterminate each other and still reap the rewards of their genius. Dorne remains the worst arc in the series and quite possibly one of the worst book-media visual adaptations ever.

- They also mentioned Riverrun again. What happened to the Riverlands after the Freys all died? Where is Edmure Tully? Who controls Riverrun?

- Writers creating a whole scene by saying that Brienne is a virgin. Not necessary.

- There was not a crippled nephew of Daeron Targaryen. D & D creating Targaryens whenever they want, although there is a well-defined story in the books. (FIRE AND BLOOD)

- There was finally a scene between Sandor and Sansa. It only took 4 episodes to happen. Once again they put Sansa as the product of her suffering, justifying the idiot choices D & D made for her character. Nothing new, otherwise it was a totally forgettable dialogue (I already forgot).

- The Bronn Paradox: If Bronn is not serving Daenerys while the war is rolling, who guarantees that he will receive his castle in the end? Especially considering he was utterly disillusioned with the promises of the Lannisters to the point of being ready to kill his two best friends? In fact, did D & D forget that Jaime himself had offered Highgarden to the Bronn last season?

- Again, as for Gendry, I wish Bronn good luck in trying to establish his feudal dominion over the proud lords of Highgarden who did not even tolerate the right Tyrells, and the Tyrells were an old family and had already been entrenched in there for centuries. Of course, D & D do not care.

- The Paradox of the Wildlings: Why were they known as wildlings? Because they tried to conquer the Wall from time to time and were always looting the North in search of resources and riches. Because their land was a shit, where nothing grew and it was always winter, basically. Now the they finally made it through the Wall and gain access to the best lands, even more with the support of the Winterfell and Starks. What do they do? That’s right: they go back to their shit place because D & D have that same shit on their heads.

- What else is north of Winterfell and south of the Wall are lands with no one, thanks to the King of the Night.“ But the wildlings choose to go back to Castle Black and, by all means, beyond the Wall. Seven Hells.

- I will not even comment on Jon’s scene sending Ghost away.” If it was for him to appear that way, it was better for the wolf to have been m.i.a as before.

- Sam Tarly is a Night’s Watch man. Men of Night’s Watch should not have children. When will anyone say that? Did not Jon even mention it? What happened to Night’s Watch? Why is Sam still dressed in black? If he’s out, why did not he become Lord Tarly?

- The arc of Night’s Watch is going to be without conclusion anyway? Are they gone?

- The army of the living has lost only half its men? It was not what it looked like in episode 3. But okay, D & D create and describe armies whenever they think it’s valid - just like Night’s Watch, apparently.

- As they are doing this season, D & D cut important dialogue scenes because they do not know what to write. In the first episode they cut off Daenerys before she finished threatening Sansa. In the second episode they cut their scene together before Dany could answer the question “What about the North?”. At the end of it cut the scene Jon x Dany in the crypts. Now they cut the scene of Sansa and Arya discovering that Jon is not their brother. Why, man? What is the reason? I’m shocked that D & D did not cut Jon’s reaction to finding out that he’s a bastard of Rhaegar and Lyanna (yes, he’s a bastard, D & D, no matter how many fanfics they write).

- Arya in the first moment: we are a family! Arya in 2nd moment: left King’s Landing, goodbye Winterfell, until never again! and yes she left for good, she said she ain’t coming back!

That was the good part of the episode. Let’s go to the bad part!!

- So you want to tell me that Euron can hit three harpoons in a dragon in mid-flight?“

- So you want to tell me that Daenerys from the sky was unable to see the Greyjoy fleet hidden behind an islet?”

- So you want to tell me that Daenerys never considered the possibility that it was a bad idea to sail to Dragonstone as they knew Euron controlled the seas there?“

- So you want to tell me that Rhaegal was not killed by the zombie dragon brother in the apocalyptic Battle of the long night fighting for the fate of the men’s kingdom only to die in the next episode in a few seconds for Euron Greyjoy’s magical harpoons?

-So you want to tell me how easy it is to kill dragons like that?” It amazes me that Aegon conquered Westeros three hundred years ago.

- Daenerys should have flown directly to King’s Landing and fired at everything after the Rhaegal’s death. Fire and Blood!!

- Jaime returning to Cersei: hi? What the fuck? If it is to join her and not kill her right away, Jaime will be the greatest example of character assassination that D & D has committed since Stannis Baratheon.

- How did Team Dany know that Missandei had been captured? Euron made propaganda, sent in the email?

- Is Varys loyal to Jon Snow? REALLY? What does Varys know about Jon Snow? When did he meet Jon Snow? When did they share at least one scene together? They never talked. Varys never saw him rule. Where do the writers get these crazy ideas?

- Nonsense to be creating intrigue over the marriage between Jon and Daenerys. She will need to get married to have children and continue the dynasty. Who is she getting married to, Hot Pie?

- By the way, there have been marriages between uncles and nieces among the Starks. Brothers Jonnel and Edric Stark married their nieces Serena and Sansa Stark some 150 years ago to try to end a crisis of succession, since their father, Rickon, heir to Winterfell, had been killed in the conquest of Dorne. It would not surprise me if GRRM specifically placed these marriages in history just for this situation that was raised in the conversation between Tyrion and Varys. In fact, marriages between uncles and nieces were not exactly uncommon in our own history. In Brasil, Dom Pedro I was grandson of D. Maria I of Portugal, who was married to his uncle, D. Pedro III, precisely to avoid a dynastic crisis.

- Again the bullshit that Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie. I imagine the Crazy King burning the Lord of Winterfell and his heir and begging for Ned and Robert’s head did not influence that at all.

- Dany is an emotional woman who’s going crazy. So we need a rational man to help her.

- Dany is an emotional woman who’s going crazy. So we need a rational man to help her!!

- Oh, excuse me if I repeated myself, but this nonsense does not go down. They disrespected Daenerys, disrespected her journey, disrespected even the “girl power” they tried to do last season (Dany, Olenna Tyrell, Cersei and the Martells). The mysoginism of these so-called D & D appearing once more to claim another innocent victim.

- Why did Cersei not kill Tyrion?

- Why did Cersei not kill Daenerys?

- Euron does not suspect anything after Tyrion reveals he knew Cersei was pregnant?“ Since Euron himelf knew only minutes ago?

- D & D really put an end to the apocalypse so we can have Cersei grinning in the last three episodes? Is this serious?

- Euron is Cersei’s puppy. Euron in the series is another completely character , they should have changed his name in the adaptation as they did with the Asha (Yara).

- No turning back with the Night King. D & D make us muggles.

- Finally: where’s the winter ??? It seems King’s Landing is in the tropics.

- Cancel this and the next two episodes. Let GoT finish in episode 3, at least so we would have something minimally satisfying. D & D continue to insult the viewer’s intelligence.

"At least the show’s songs never fails to please.”

*this analysis is not mine I translated from a brazilian friend