#prose ramblings

[whitegoldtower]

Angry, pissed off Tam’lin below the break. This is how I think it would go down the first few hours of having Kar’niss in the camp. The szarkai isn’t pleased with the hypocrisy.

As a character, Tam’lin is usually the quiet one. He does what he needs to, he tends to avoid dialogue that could possibly upset the other party members, he’s generally a very relaxed person. Imagine the reaction, then, when he finally loses his shit.

He automatically rolls Nat 20s for insight, intimidation and persuasion on this one.

“Stand down! Stand down.” The szarkai snarled, at the group of people he called ‘friends’.

A group of misfits and outcasts, rough and disorganised, constantly warring, either with themselves or with him.

“Get back, now. All of you.” Tam’lin rarely showed such intensity, such fervour, nothing like the state he had worked himself into as he stood outside of his tent, defending the drider. Protection was a strong instinct he had cultivated and nurtured since he’d discovered his autonomy. He didn’t want to hurt his friends, but he would, if it came down to it.

And they must have known; Tam’lin saw the way Gale backed off immediately, the way Astarion defensively picked at the hilt of his dagger, anticipating a fight.

Tam’lin pointed at him.

“I’ll pretend I did not see that,” the ranger said, lowly, his white hair wild and messy, “I intend to hear him out. And you should, too. By the gods, hear him if nothing else, just as I heard you. We have all wrestled with ourselves and one another, unearthed secrets that should have been revealed upon our meeting. I remember you, in particular,” Tam’lin rounded on Astarion, “thanking me for looking past your condition and reassuring you that you were not a monster.”

He turned to Wyll, “I remember you, so fearful and vulnerable, ready to saw those horns right off your skull.”

Finally, he rounded on Lae’zel, “And you, how you advocated for the occasional ‘capricious murder’, as if that was not something of a monstrosity in itself.”

Perhaps he was going too far. Perhaps not.

“All of you have, in some way or another, fought with yourselves for a scrap of understanding, a glimmer of hope that you will not be seen as monsters. Why is he any different?” The szarkai eyed up his camp, “Is it because he looks less human than the rest of us? Is that it?”

Disappointment momentarily overtook his ire as he looked upon Karlach and Gale,

“You two, I expected better. Especially you, Karlach. Everyone thought you were a fucking cambion before learning the truth.”

The curling of Minthara’s lip, however, only threw oil on the fire, and Tam’lin met her gaze for the first time in his life, his gaze piercing right into her skull.

“Ilharess, my sweet dear cousin, this is the only time I will ever defer to you. Know this. This is not Menzoberranzan, here and now. I will speak to you on your own level, just this once. Put your pride aside for one small moment and consider; as a former pawn of the Absolute; is he not entitled to his revenge?”

Minthara’s visage hardened, a hot flush rising to her cheeks from her neck. Tempered rage. Perhaps the only reason she did not smite him, there and then, was because he was right.

“You, better than anyone else, should know how it feels to betray Lolth. To be used as a puppet. Does he not deserve better? Either one of us, both you and I, could have suffered this fate for our alleged sins against our people. And I count us lucky that we were not, although we still could be. His circumstances were a product of injustice.”

He tore his gaze away from her.

“I welcomed all of you as friends, despite your flaws. I intend to welcome Kar’niss in the same manner. Before you confront me in this manner again, like a pack of fucking wolves,” he spat, looking pointedly at Shadowheart, “Consider finding a shred of the decency within yourselves that I once showed you.”

There, then, was something akin to a silent respect in Lae’zel and Minthara’s auras; he was finally showing that authoritative streak. There was fire, there. Something that could be respected, even admired, by Astarion, too. The ambition impressed Gale, and the fierce passion tempered Karlach. Guilt crept in, somewhere along the lines, when he looked upon Shadowheart and Wyll, seeing perhaps just a hint of fear, but he did not back down. He was ready to defend Kar’niss, tooth and nail, and upon realising the fact that he was simply trying to protect a vulnerable being, Wyll’s posture relaxed.

The entire party was in shock. Perhaps it was for the best. Tam’lin resisted the urge to turn on Kar’niss, in that moment, to seethe that the drider had better not make him regret the decision to stick his neck out for him and possibly make an enemy of his friends. He slowed his thundering heart, bit at the inside of his cheeks.

He looked poised to chew off his own tongue. He’d won them over, for now, at least. He could see that much in their faces.

[and-corn]

B I G N E W S !

I've made an art book and the Kickstarter is about to launch! It has writing, illustrations, and comics similar to this one! It's called Waving at Airplanes and it's probably the largest project I've ever done (I'm quite proud of it).

The book will also include this comic, this one, plus this, and this - AND 6 additional, never-before-seen comics/illustrations! So if you happen to like those comics, it would mean a lot if you considered getting the book! You can check out the Kickstarter page here!

Since the artwork is already done, the Kickstarter is really just a pre-order (to cover the cost of having the books printed and shipped). It launches on 9/9/2024 and will last 4 weeks!

Thank you! These comics may not be my most popular, but they are the most personal to me, and the support for them is really special.

[lolipop1920art]

So this is something I found

twitter but for skaven

[petrichor-poet]

I wasn't made for flings or situationships. I was made for falling head over heels in love with someone who loves me.

[musings-n-museums]

i miss you so much (i forget why)

clips of all too well: the short film directed by taylor swift \\ scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo \\ anything (demo) by dodie \\ post by @inanotherunivrse \\ tiktok comments by harashsidhu and ashmanathletics \\ tonight i can write by pablo neruda \\ the glass essay by anne carson \\ i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams

[gale-force-storm]

He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far.

Even if they are beautiful. And kind to everyone, not just him. And brave. And clever. And strong. And they love animals, and reading. And they have a wry sense of humour that he adores.

He won't. He can't. Besides all else, this is decidedly not the time. A bomb in his chest and a worm in his head and a weight on his shoulders and a shame in his stomach and a shattered heart he's still trying to gather the pieces of. Desperately clinging to the cloak of his past, wrapping himself in his former confidence, pretending it hasn't been worn threadbare with time in isolation and eaten ragged by the moths of doubt and fear and past mistakes.

He fell from grace so far so fast, but he cannot beg affection off the first hand to offer him help up, even if it is the first time he's touched another person in months. Even if that hand did send a sudden warmth through him and feel so right in his own he could almost cry from it.

...This is getting out of hand.

He can just be friendly with them, surely. How does one make friends, again? Shared interests? He mostly just has the one, so he'll share what he can. They pick it up quickly, and the warm magic that surrounds them is a balm on his soul. Right up until they imagine kissing him, and his heart skips a beat. It can't be. It can't be. They can't want him back. It's not possible. And how, after it all, after everything, is he meant to resist the overwhelming temptation of being wanted?

They don't let up, either. Lingering glances. Warm smiles. All but propositioning him at the tiefling party. If there is a single positive thing to be said about his year of orb-imposed abstinence, it's that the willpower he had to build up and the practice denying himself were the only things that enabled him to decline their advances.

Well, that and the risk of blowing up the both of them, along with everyone else in or near the camp.

The warm smiles and lingering gazes and casual touches still continue, though.

This is fine. He's fine. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, someone cared for him like this, and he can't do a damn thing about it, but he's fine. Everything is fine. As fine as it can be, anyways, given everything else about the situation.

He supposes he should probably be more upset about Mystra's orders. At this point, though, it's hard to feel like it's anything besides a way out. A relief that he can be good for something. One more miserable experience, and then he's done with it, and all their problems are solved. There are worse things.

Except.

They're so angry about it. Everyone is, but them especially. Arguing with both him and Elminster the entire time, insisting there's another option. That they'll find or make one. Whatever they have to do to keep him around.

Gods help him, but he does want to stay with them. Stay for them.

He sleeps that night, and awakens with a jolt, a groan, and a realization. He's glad that prestidigitation exists to clean himself up without leaving his tent and risking the others' notice. His body had, apparently, caught up with certain implications before his brain. Though from what snippets of his dream he remembers, maybe it was only his waking mind that had been lagging behind.

He wants them, and he can finally have them. Can give them as much of himself as he's able, in the time he has left.

He had refused, at first, the idea of falling for the first person to show him kindness. And he hasn't. He's fallen for someone who is so much more that that. And he will not, cannot, die without letting them know. If he has to leave them, and he fears he will, then he will not leave them feeling unappreciated, or uncherished, or unloved. Not when he can finally embrace the full depth and breadth of what he feels for them. Has felt for them for what can't have been more than a tenday or two, but feels like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

He will not leave without showing them the full scope of his admiration and appreciation and sheer joy at their presence. The full scope of how impossibly deeply he already loves them. Not while he has any say in it.

[terijugni]

जो फूल तेरी ज़ुलफ़ों में नहीं

वो फूल, फूल नहीं

[nekofra]

Matching icons for you and your dumb friend

[ID: Matching icons of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun 98 and Badlands Rumble

Vash screaming as Wolfwood traps him in a pseudo wrestling hold on the airship’s deck

Eriks!Vash and Wolfwood looking serious

Vash and Wolfwood both saluting and smiling nervously

Vash and Wolfwood laughing obnoxiously on the bus

Wolfwood and Vash looking up with concerned frowns. End ID]

[thatrandombystander]

"I've never fired a gun before" says the guy with a machine gun/rocket launcher combo weapon that also has compartments to store several smaller guns

Funniest lie he could have told

[ID: A Trigun 98 screencap of Wolfwood looking with surprise at the gun Vash is handing him and exclaiming, "Hey! I've never fired a gun before!" End ID]

ID courtesy of @princess-of-purple-prose

[fawnblooded]

ONE DAY IT WILL BE DIFFERENT ONE DAY I WILL LOVE IN THE RIGHT WAY ONE DAY I WILL FALL WHERE ITS OKAY FOR ME TO FALL!

[fruitsofhell]

I used to be one of those guys when I first joined the Kirby fandom, but everytime I hear a discussion of the series writing that starts with "So the Lore is InSaNe-" and not like, "Kirby has a fun writing style that takes advantage of its cute exterior to tell cool stories that reward player's curiosity and leave lots of room for imagination-" I cringe so goddamn hard.

I kinda just hate that people approach things that encourage investment when they don't expect it as inherently absurd. Like it is fun to joke about how absurd Kirby lore can be, but it really often comes with an air of disrespect or exhaustion rather than like, appreciation that these games are made by people who want to tell interesting stories when they could easily make as much money just making polished enough fluffy kiddy platformers. And when it's not met with exhaustion, it's met with - like I said before - that tone that it's stupid for a series like this TO have devs who care about writing stuff for it. Which is a whole other thing about people not respecting things made to appeal to kiddie aesthetic or tone.

Maybe the state of low-stakes YouTube video essays just blows cause people play up ignorance and disbelief for engagement, but like I STG I hear people use this tone for like actual narrative based games sometimes. Some people don't like... appreciate when a game is made by people who care a shitton in ways that aren't direct gameplay feedback. And they especially don't appreciate it when it comes from something with any sense of tonal dissonance intentional or not.

Anyways, I love games made by insane people. I love games made by teams who feel like they wanna make something work or say something so bad. I love that energy, especially when invested into something that could easily rest on its laurels or which obviously won't be taken seriously. I love this in a lot of classic campy 2000s games, I love this in insanely niche yet passionate fanworks, and I love it in the Kirby series and its writing. Can we please stop talking about it like it's an annoyance or complete joke?

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

actually the way House MD so often takes a random character showing behavioral issues of whatever sort and says actually there's a reason for this, it isn't an innate thing wrong with you, it's a product of your circumstances and we can try to make this better for you, is so profound because while it is typically a reflection on the character of House himself it's also incredibly gentle. bad behaviors are often a product of our circumstances, and somehow hatecrimes MD gets to the point of grace faster and better than any far more intentional story usually would

[lolipop1920art]

A description of Gulliman's scar

[aurae-rori]

in another universe, i kissed your freckles like they were stars and unclothed you at the altar like you were my god. in this one, my hands are stained with your blood and i carved out every inch of your skin to find nothing inside. a hollow deity, and a blind follower who carried out his own demise.

[revelisms]

They say one sees a lifetime before they die: a shutter-reel of memory, flickering like stormlights: the world blurring, the stars devoured, while the earth swivels upon her axis and plunges—

Back to the shadows from whence she came. To the very depths his consciousness was birthed from.

Forty-two years.

Three bullets.

(Was that all?)

Not the infection that should have taken him—but an infection, nonetheless: a gorging of his heart; a pinnacle shattered.

One might laugh, if they could only see the irony: a lifetime spent denying his years, forty-two wretched years, had any purpose beyond cleansing their city's polluted spillways and raising her wailing corpse to breathe the clean air once more: enforcing progress with bloodshed, bloodied bullets, blood staggered in his veins.

At eleven years, he'd learned the taste of nicotine; knew the sour tang of soot on his teeth and the bitter, brown-water wash of the canteen strapped to his hip—and yet he lived.

(If for no reason more, then to dare: Is this all? And soiled, soulless—stare upturned to gods unforgiving and long forgotten—sneer: No.)

Seventeen, and he'd learned the inner workings of a another's mouth; knew which alcoves beckoned on rain-drenched nights, which slope of linen-draped shoulders he preferred to carve his nails through, which future he knew would be nothing—and yet, spitefully, hatefully, he lived.

(A single taste of freedom, unveiled to gnashing frenzy.

Is this all is this all is this all—?)

Thirty, and he'd learned the ways of a knife like an extension of his soul; had tasted death enough times to build a palate for it. A grotesque beauty, refined and ruthless; warranted for years beyond his dead-hearted reason, and selfishly claimed.

A weapon to ensure he, without fail, would live still.

Without him.

Any of them.

(Is this all—?)

Then, he'd met a child.

Little fool of a thing, who dared to sit in his shadow. Who called him nothing but Mister, for ages. Who couldn't have been a closer marker of his own, if he tried.

(—No.)

Two fractal nebulas, twisted together by fate or mutual curse both. Splintered hearts, soiled hands, spoiled hopes: shell of a father and bullet-casing daughter, resenting the dark for all it could never give them, and the light for all it had stolen.

(What now? he'd wondered, stupefied. A child with gear-greased fingers and guns at her hip, clinging to him like his very bones were a light of their own. Poisoned, stained, but burning. Janna, what now?)

Now, the light is calling him.

Now, his girl sits at his knee, eleven cusping seventeen: an age where he had lost so much, already—that, by fate or mutual curse, she has lost plenty enough to match.

He'd hold her, if not for these bindings. Her own shield of desperation, hook-toothed dagger, determined not to let anyone close enough, again.

Even him.

(You're my daughter.)

Forty-two years.

(I'll never forsake you.)

Three bullets.

(Was that all?)

silco / reflections

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

as someone who listens to sleeping at last and loves pearlrose, i’ve accepted the Beautiful Pain this has caused

saturn perfectly describes pearl’s feelings for rose. so does two. turning page is rose’s feelings for pearl. heart is also how she felt about pearl in their earlier days.

& then there’s songs that fit the crystal gems, too. north reminds me of the crystal gems with steven. for their most vulnerable moments, sorrow reminds me of garnet, and you are enough reminds me of ame, to name just a few.

song recommendations… i guess ?? i actually have made two pearlrose playlists with some sleeping at last songs and some others. one playlist is their story from rose’s perspective, the other is their story from pearl’s perspective. i can & will share them, if you want !