#simplicity and fortitude

[springtrappd]

the fnaf movie cast & crew on movie!vanessa:

2022 PRE-PRODUCTION CASTING CALL FROM 'NEW CHARACTER DETAILS FOR BLUMHOUSE'S 'FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S' FILM' (via Geek Vibes Nation):

Female supporting lead, VANESSA, 20s "Vanessa is a police officer who shows up during one of Mike’s work shifts. While leading with a bright and sunny disposition, Vanessa has a keen understanding of the dark history and inner workings of the restaurant. Not wanting to reveal too much of what she may know, she works to help Mike survive the night."

TAMMI & SCOTT IN 'UNIVERSAL PICTURES PUBLICITY: FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S PRODUCTION INFORMATION APPROVED':

Tammi, in turn, was wowed by [Elizabeth Lail]. “Vanessa in many ways was the most complicated character to inhabit,” Tammi says. “She’s a cop with a hidden agenda. Elizabeth did an incredible job finding the authenticity within Vanessa, not turning her into a caricature, but really giving her dimension and empathy. She had to be strong, but also exhibit softness and vulnerability. It’s not an easy thing to do, and Elizabeth nailed it.” Game creator and film producer Scott Cawthon saw Lail’s performance as a promise fulfilled. “Elizabeth Lail was so genuine in her portrayal of someone who was strong on the outside but had a lot of pain and confusion inside,” Cawthon says. “She was amazing. Very often during her takes I would text Emma and remind her that I take full credit for selecting her to play Vanessa.”

TAMMI ON MIKE & VANESSA'S RELATIONSHIP, IN 'FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S DIRECTOR ON LACK OF GORE & SEQUEL PLANS' (for Variety):

We meet both Mike and Vanessa at really lonely points in their lives. They’ve both had to bury really significant childhood trauma deep down within themselves in order to get through their day-to-day lives. In Mike’s case that’s taking care of his younger sister, and in Vanessa’s case it’s putting on this front as a cop while still trying to be protective of someone very close to her. There’s something that those two characters see in each other, both said and unsaid, that is a recognition of trauma and a unique experience they both underwent in different ways. There’s been a shared path that they’re able to connect on in a way that is very unlike them being able to connect with anyone else. That yearning for companionship and a shared understanding of each other’s past is the main thing that draws them together.

MAKEUP DEPARTMENT HEAD ASHLEY LEVY (on Instagram):

INSPO: FNAF style, *yet* again. Up next is Vanessa. Drawing from the quiet simplicity of Simone in “The French Dispatch”, the brooding strength of Julia in “The Watcher”, and the pure fortitude of Dani in “Midsommar”, Vanessa reflects a quiet purity with an undertone of mystery.

[dyxtd21]

Starcream aesthetic moodboard!!

In my AU, "Transformers: The Sweet Surprise", Starcream would be just as ambitious, cunning, and backhanded as his original version, but his personality would take on a more decadent flair that perfectly matches his creamy exterior and over-the-top look. He’s dripping with sweetness—quite literally—coated in swirls of silky whipped cream, which he has to maintain constantly to keep his appearance flawless. The cherry on his head is his proudest feature, and he’s notorious for obsessively polishing it to make sure it glistens as the ultimate symbol of his superiority. His design leans into an extravagant, almost dessert display-like aesthetic, with frosting swirls and delicate sugar detailing that catch the light to add a shimmery, polished effect.

Personality-wise, Starcream is as melodramatic as ever. He believes he’s the crème de la crème of the candy world and that Megatwix, with his rugged chocolate-and-caramel look, can’t even begin to match his elegance and refinement. Despite his sugary appearance, Starcream is anything but sweet. He's constantly scheming, always on the lookout for ways to dethrone Megatwix and take his place as the most powerful of the sweet ‘Confectioners.’ He’s quick to criticize Megatwix’s “basic�� caramel-layered style, mocking him as dull compared to his own sophisticated flair. In moments of confrontation, Starcream is known to throw in dramatic lines like, “You're all crunch, no class, Megatwix!” His insults are just as sugar-coated as his appearance, with a saccharine sarcasm that makes him both infuriating and slightly ridiculous.

Starcream’s relationship with Soundwafer is complex; he doesn’t fully trust Soundwafer since he’s so close to Megatwix, but he also respects the precision and discipline Soundwafer brings to their operations. While he’d never openly admit it, Starcream actually envies Soundwafer's composed demeanour and, ironically, his wafer-like simplicity. He sometimes tries to flatter Soundwafer with backhanded compliments, suggesting they’d make a “stunning duo of finesse and fortitude,” but Soundwafer usually ignores these empty gestures.

With Shockwerther, Starcream shares a more grudging respect. Shockwerther’s caramelized Werther’s Original motif—a smooth yet unyielding quality—makes him nearly impervious to Starcream’s sweet-talking. Shockwerther doesn’t fall for any of Starcream’s flattery or manipulations, which infuriates Starcream to no end. Still, he recognizes Shockwerther as a powerful ally, though he’s constantly whispering to others that Shockwerther lacks the vision that only Starcream can bring to the group.

Ultimately, Starcream is flamboyant and ambitious to a fault, driven by his obsession with being the “cherry on top” in every situation, but his plans often backfire spectacularly. His sugary exterior is ironically brittle, with his ego bruised whenever Megatwix asserts his dominance or when Soundwafer and Shockwerther remain indifferent to his constant posturing. Despite his best efforts, Starcream is usually left with nothing but melted cream and a still-polished cherry, determined to try again.

[liillyliilly]

Improve Your Technique

terushima yuuji x reader words; 2,577 synopsis; past volleyball player reader who becomes a manager for the johzenji boys' volleyball team

“Are you sure you want me to be a manager?” She kept digging the tip of her foot into the dirt, creating a small indent. Her toes were wiggling in her shoes as she tried to get a grip on herself.

It’s just Yuuji, no reason to get so nervous, she told herself repeatedly. She did her best to avoid his eyes, looking at his pierced ears, or staring at the tuft of hair that fell onto his forehead because it wasn’t gelled back into the rest of the spiky style. But, her attempts to avoid him the past week had all failed, he caught her trying to buy a soda from the vending machine.

Terushima had searched for Y/N specifically, mainly because she was one of the only girls to not have joined a club yet, and because she had in depth experience with volleyball. But he would be lying if he didn’t almost admit that it was also because he wanted to spend more time with her. Third year was kicking his ass, and the least the year could do for him was to let a good friend, and crush, of his be a team manager for the Volleyball Club at Johzenji.

The difficult issue for Y/n was that she didn’t want to spend her time trying to manage such a large group of third year boys who all towered over her, or have to deal with the countless second and first years who still needed a lot of teaching to improve their skills. Not to mention, the rumors that Johzenji volleyball club is the unruliest of all teams, that was one of the things that scared her off. The school’s motto is ‘Simplicity and Fortitude’ after all. While many people would think that all the clubs were as overwhelming as the volleyball club, they would be wrong. It was just volleyball that seemed to have the majority of students who never cared much for the idea of a simple and strong playing style.

“I can understand why you don’t want to be manager. But, please, the team has somehow been able to take a more tactical approach, even if it is just slightly.” Terushima toyed with his tongue piercing between his front teeth for a moment before continuing, “You played volleyball in middle school and for all three years you won best defensive specialist. You being our team manager would be the best thing for our team.” He forced a small smile while moving his shoulders up slightly.

His slightly timid actions, and of course his words tugged at Y/n’s heartstrings. Pursing her lips, she considered the pros and cons. She nodded her head and the corner of her mouth turned upward.

“What the hell? Why not, sounds good.”

Terushima started grinning like a madman and he tried to hold himself back from jumping up and down. But he couldn’t escape the pull as he hopped to the gym, before turning around and waving, “Practice starts at 3:30! You better be there tomorrow!”

Y/n was there tomorrow, but what she saw wasn’t what she expected. She knew who Runa and Terushima were, but the rest of the team was a blur of faces and limbs all moving around in excitement. And she had a flashback.

The short memory of breaking her leg shot past her brain. The rush of people surrounding her as she cried out on the vinyl floors, holding her leg to her body. It was a hot but also freezing spot above her knee.

She had broken her leg and couldn’t play volleyball anymore. She broke it over summer vacation, so when first year rolled around, she decided to give up on volleyball for the duration of her high school career. Of course, she felt envious of the volleyball team members but, at least she was back in the gym. It was a nice first step, even if it was taken two years too late.

Y/n looked around, and people were still talking and moving around. It didn’t look like volleyball practice. Terushima seemed to be the center of it all, and at the very edge of the gym was Runa standing and trying to bring them to all attention. Suddenly, Y/n was slightly agitated. If they wanted her help, then they would need to listen.

Clearing her throat loudly, Y/n stomped her foot and announced, “Listen to me right now. Shut up!” When everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face her, she paused for a second before swallowing lightly and tilting her head up. “Stand in a semi-circle so we can get practice started.”

Practice wasn’t bad, not at all. Y/n just had a difficult time trying to help all of the members, improving stances and angles of arm positions to amplify receives. She didn’t have a difficult time teaching; she had a difficult time trying to help everyone and not have her time assisting completely surrounded by Terushima asking her questions and begging her to look at his serves.

“Y/n, Y/n, look at this!” He bounded up to her with sweat dripping down his forehead from all the athletic activity.

“We have to start cleaning up Terushima, maybe tomorrow?” Terushima scowled before slumping his shoulders and setting the volleyball into the basket, mumbling a ‘fine’.

After practice, the Johzenji volleyball club liked to hang out. This was also what Terushima liked to call his personal group of therapists. Him and his homies at his house, eating junk food and watching various volleyball highlights running through the TV, listening to reactions from his club members at receives, spikes, digs, or even a good setter dump.

“She drives me crazy. And I can never even think around her! It’s just- I can’t act normal around her.” Terushima flung himself onto the couch, he groaned as he dragged his hands across his face.

“You can’t act normal in the first place.” Someone muttered.

“Hey! I heard that.” Terushima leaned up from the couch, before letting out a deep sigh and falling back onto the couch.

“Just ask her on a date. Simple as that.”

Terushima wanted to retort, but he couldn’t. Because it was simple as that. The next couple of days were truly a struggle. At first, he tried to look for ways to be helpful. But that only ended up with him stressing Y/n out because she couldn’t handle him asking her questions all the time. Then he tried to be the silent and mysterious type, but that only ended up with Y/n laughing because he tried wearing his leather jacket during practice.

“You can't exactly, you know, play volleyball wearing such a restrictive material Terushima.” She pulled on the sleeve of his jacket and he slid it off. She folded the jacket and hung it over her arm. “Now, go and keep improving your technique. Okay?”

Terushima nodded before sighing dreamily once she had left to set his jacket down. His third attempt was a lot more successful. But his third attempt was less of an attempt on his part and more of an effort on Y/n’s part.

It was a Friday, and mostly everyone had cleared out from practice. Terushima went to go serve, just for a final moment of practice. But just as he had hit the ball, Runa had started walking by. He ran forward to try and receive at the very least. But in one fell swoop, Y/n was there and receiving the ball, sending right back to Terushima, the ball landing just slightly to the left of him.

“Runa are you okay?” She turned around and held onto her shoulders, doing a quick check of her to make sure she was okay.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Runa put her hands up, she smiled at Y/n before raising her eyebrows and nodding over to where Terushima stood, stunned.

Runa and some other the other members had finally finished cleaning up and had exited the gym. Leaving Y/n to wander over to where Terushima stood.

“You still play?” He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. “How come you didn’t join the girls' team?”

Y/n toyed with her hands before frowning, causing Terushima to back up. “I don’t play anymore, because of an injury over summer, before I started my first year. So, I gave up.”

“Why’d you give up when you're so clearly amazing! I thought you had stopped after Middle School because you were too focused on schoolwork? Or because the High School volleyball scene was too intimidating for you. But really you're still a volleyball idiot like me.” Pleased with the retort, Terushima smiled. Only to be met with her rubbing her shoulders and chewing on her bottom lip.

“I gave up because I was scared, I was scared I would get hurt again, I guess.” Y/n felt embarrassed. “I really do love volleyball. It’s just wasn’t going to work out, my lack of self-confidence and my actual injury prevented me from playing.” She wasn’t making an effort to hold back the way her eyes watered now.

Terushima didn’t know what to do. So, he just didn’t do anything. He wished he would have stepped forward and hugged her. He hoped he would have said something to comfort her. But he had never been in this kind of situation before so he just stood there, awkwardly holding his arm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Thanks for letting me vent. I really do get kind of jealous seeing all you guys getting to play all the time.” She sniffled before wiping her face with her palms.

Y/n picked up the volleyball in her hands, running her fingers along the stitching. Just letting the weight of the ball be held in her hands. She pushed the ball into Terushima’s arms, he fumbled for a moment before holding it steadily.

“Improve your technique.” He blurted out. Looking directly into her eyes.

“What?” Y/n tilts her head and raises an eyebrow.

“Improve your technique, that’s what you said to me when I tried wearing that leather jacket.”

Terushima feels a flush grow onto his back of his neck before walking over to put the volleyball away. Y/n follows him as he wheels the basket away. He is reminded of all the times he followed her as she put away the basket into the storage closet.

“I did. What about it?” Y/n locks the storage closet and the gym door as she and Terushima head outside.

“You need to improve your technique.” His words are blunt and straight to the point.

“My technique? Big words coming from you Terushima.” She teases, nudging his stomach with her elbow.

Terushima remembers the first time he met Y/n. It was just after the loss to Karasuno, and he was feeling oddly humble. Being back at school felt weird he missed the competitions, he missed playing volleyball, and the thrill of wondering if he was going to win or lose. But seeing Y/n doodling in her math notebook just outside the cafeteria seemed like a challenge, and he wanted to take it. His attempts at flirting with her were immediately shut down.

“No, not your volleyball technique.” He looked forward and kept walking, Y/n realized that he had begun taking the route she took to get home, so she just went along with him.

Even though Y/n was very advanced with volleyball, it didn’t mean those skills carried over into the social world. Being in the volleyball club for so long, really cut her off from other people. Since all of her time was usually spent practicing or doing schoolwork. So, when she stopped doing volleyball, she had to start building up her personality from the ground up, and doing something like that, at high school where everyone already had an idea of where they fit in was extremely difficult.

“Then what technique exactly?” She tugged on his hand, forcing him to face her again.

“You didn’t need to apologize. You are allowed to feel like that. Apologizing was a show of bad technique.” When Y/n went to let go of his hand, he gripped onto it, softly, but still holding onto her hand.

“What technique?” She raises her voice, she mentally clarified to herself that she wasn't angry, she was confused. And she didn’t appreciate that confusion.

If there was one thing Y/n had to get used to, it was Terushima becoming intent on becoming her friend. At first, he really rubbed her the wrong way during second year. But once she shut him down, he kept coming back not to flirt. But to just talk, and he talked about everything and anything. Eventually, she opened up. Terushima absorbed everything she told him like a sponge. He was desperate to know her, to understand why she closed off in the first place. He wasn’t oblivious, he could clearly see that she was alone. But he didn’t know how lonely she was until he became her friend.

“Your emotional technique is extremely weak.” He explains.

Y/n goes silent.

“You're not some robot, whose machine arm got ripped off and then screwed back on wrong. You are a human. With complex feelings. And most of the time even I don’t understand my own.” He rambles, the words becoming slightly jumbled as he goes on.

“Can you give an example?” Y/n is less confused now, but wants to see how far Terushima is willing to continue his unintelligible rant.

“Of feelings?”

“Why not.” She lets go of his hands and starts walking, Terushima standing still for a moment before jogging slightly to catch up with her, there was only a few more steps before they reached her front door.

“Well, you're feeling jealous-”

She cuts him off, “Of your own feelings.” She stops again, realizing they are already at the the front door.

Terushima thinks for a moment. He understands a lot of his emotions pretty well. He likes to have fun because it makes him feel victorious. He doesn’t like to lose because it makes him feel defeated and less confident in himself. He knows that seeing Y/n sad makes him angry, and he knows that when she smiles or laughs, he feels his own happiness bubble up in his stomach.

“I like you.”

She takes a step back, her eyes widened.

“Oh, um, was that not what you meant?” He rubbed the back of his head. Putting his head down slightly, he cringed. His shoes suddenly became a picturesque vision of the ocean, seeing as his intent was focused wholly on the laces and stitching.

“Not exactly, but it’s good to know.” Seeing as Terushima had his head down, Y/n kissed the top of his head slightly. Shaking her own head, she ruffled his hair and started unlocking her front door.

Terushima shot his head back up and pulled her in close. “You do not get to just kiss me and then leave.”

“I won’t leave.” Then when she tries to wiggle out of his grasp, he just holds on a little bit tighter.

“You really need to work on your lying technique.” He kisses all over her face before lightly hovering his lips over her own. “And your kissing technique.”

[aphrostarot]

Leo Man

Title: “The Natural”

For simplicity's sake, I will use the pronouns “he/him” for the male versions of the signs and “she/her” for the female versions of the signs. This is not to say that the people who identify with the male or female versions of each sign identify with those pronouns. This post is focusing on the different sexes (male vs female) not gender. Gender is fluid and I am in no way labeling people with these posts. Also, these posts are focusing solely on the Sun signs of each zodiac, other birth chart placements may cause someone to not fit into everything I have described.

Masterlist

Mind (how they think):

The Leo man is the quintessential golden boy.

He has great charisma and an innate sense of ease and entitlement.

He tends to be a real know it all. This is because he has a hard time seeing the world from any other perspective than his own.

He believes that he is the main character in everyone’s lives. So, he tends to steal the center of attention in any conversation he is in.

Like the Lion that rules his sign, injury makes him dangerous. He will usually either sulk, seeking to make the people around him as miserable as he feels, or he will succumb to one of his infamous temper tantrums.

He has a god complex in the way that he believes he has the utmost authority over everyone he encounters. He believes he is better than everyone who crosses his path.

More than any other man, he believes that his way of thinking is the ‘right’ way.

He has little respect for any authority other than his own. With the expectation of his father, who he tends to worship.

He despises formal settings and attire. This is because he needs to feel relaxed and comfortable at all times.

He isn’t interested in pleasing or impressing anyone. In his eyes, you either take him as he is or don’t take him at all.

Leo is ruled by the 5th house, which is the house of fun and games and sport and amusement. So, Leo men are usually predisposed to natural athleticism. Though, he is typically not infused with the team spirit that often comes along with sports.

He can sometimes be addicted to gaming and gambling because of that 5th house influence over him.

He is the zodiac’s ultimate father figure. This is because he never fails to be perceived as a leader, at home or in his career.

He is frequently depended on by almost everyone in his life. This image of being the one that people can depend on is an image he has carried with since childhood and is one he can have the most trouble escaping.

He tends to be pretty physically strong from a young age. This could also be mirrored in his intellectual capability.

He is clever, witty, talented, and has a strong moral fortitude.

More than most, when he fails to meet his goals, he feels guilty and disappointed in himself.

He is often set apart from the other members of his family, which causes a psychological rift to build between him and his family.

He will typically experience an intense sense of blame for outshining his siblings.

Because of this rift, he will often downplay his achievements to his family in particular. This is pretty ironic because he loves the attention he mom gives him for his accomplishments. Which then makes him believe he is a rising star in his family.

No matter how hard he tries, he will never get the same positive feedback from his father that his mother gives him.

He respects his father and holds him in such high regard, but his dad never returns those views.

His dad will frequently chastise him for “trying too hard” and so, in turn, the Leo man stops trying.

Since it is his dad’s opinion that mattered the most to him when he was a kid, he will frequently avoid his feelings of guilt when failing to fulfill his goals. Because of this, he adopts a no-effort attitude towards life, only finding success when it comes to him easily and naturally.

He goes through his life feeling wholly confident, this is an easy stance for him because he never takes risks, emotionally and otherwise.

In all of his interactions with others he’ll make little or no effort to establish a personal connection, only securing friendships that, like everything else, develop with zero strain.

He hates people who he thinks “try too hard” because in his eyes he is the guy who “has it all” and has no respect for people who wear their insecurities and hearts on their sleeves.

Whenever someone he doesn’t know shows sincere interest in him, he will tend to lie to people about his accomplishments in life, or just any detail of his life. In his eyes, he's just “pranking” them or “fibbing” and it’s no big deal. This is because he believes that these people are not worthy of his time and effort to be open and honest, especially if he expects to never see them again.

It is cliché, but the men of this sign are truly the center of attention.

Most people feel that just being in his presence makes them feel better about themselves. This is because his confidence is complete, and it inspires others to stop second-guessing themselves.

To his loved ones, the Leo man is their emotional bodyguard. He will stand up for the people he cares for. He would kick anyone's ass who he deems looked at you sideways if he truly cares for you. It’s just that he really tends to have a very small group of people he really cares for, and it is almost impossible for you to get into that small group.

Body + Soul (what they look like inside and out):

As the personification of a masculine-fixed-fire status, by the time he is an adult he already considers himself a star, regardless of profession, and as such, he doesn’t need proof in the form of universal attention on any kind of grand scale.

He knows people are drawn to him. So, he simply just selects those he deems worthy to enter his personal private sphere.

As much as he tries, the attention seems to always find him wherever he goes.

He seems so laid back and candid when you look at him, this is why people tend to gravitate towards him. It’s almost like his physique is calling you to him.

Many may mistake his openness as him having an outgoing personality, when in reality he is actually quite the introvert. This doesn’t mean that he is shy, it’s just that most people don't have anything but the vaguest of interest for him, so, he doesn’t try to get to know them.

When it comes to friendships, he is notorious for having few to none, and save for the one queen or king this manically monogamous man is forever expecting to meet, he makes no room in his life for close relationships.

He does not mind being single. In fact, he is delighted to go about his daily routine solo.

To 99 percent of the population, he will remain an untouchable, unattainable entity.

He is usually fairer skinned than other members of his family, slightly more blotchy and flushed than the rest of his family.

He may have slightly blonde or red hair, regardless of his ethnicity.

He typically has a Lion’s mane of some sort. Typically sporting thickly tousled locks, coarse or straw like in texture, with a very low hairline.

His face is often weathered; and even from a young age, his face is crinkled with what appears to be laugh lines on his cheeks, temples, and even his bushy brow.

He typically has very dry and sensitive skin, that sunburn and freckles very easily. He needs to be careful and protect himself against moles and small skin cancers caused by the harmful rays of his ruler Sun.

It is very hard to get him to even crack a smile, which is why the wrinkles and lines on his face are most definitely not laugh lines.

He is reluctant to express pleasure with even the most restricted grins. He feels these shows of favor are not easily won, so he will never hand them out easily.

He is naturally fit. Which may make him somewhat of a fatphobe, either to other people or to himself.

Cotton and wool are typically the mainstays of his wardrobe. Anything “peppy” is what he goes for.

He likes to show off his torso, so he may oftentimes wear v-necks or have his shirts unbuttoned.

He likes to look put together wherever he goes but, he typically won’t iron his clothes, he likes a more clean but crumpled look.

He is born with the pectoral muscles that most men spend their whole lives trying to get at the gym. This is why he tends to show off his chest, because it is typically well-defined.

He normally has a flat middle that is nearly impossible to chisel into a six-pack.

He is big-boned with more thick skin rather than fat.

His body is typically evenly proportioned, right down to his big hands and feet.

His “package” is similarly designed. Typically, not overly hung, but perhaps considerably thick.

He has some wild body hair, symmetrically situated and often blondish in hue, rarely, if ever, will he be extremely hairy.

In the pubic area, his hair will be sparse, wiry rather than dense, and often trailing into his butt and inner thigh region.

However, those areas of his body are rarely seen. He does not like people to see his body, so, even on the hottest of hot days, he will be wearing full-length trousers and a button down shirt.

He is easily the most modest, least promiscuous and the most pickiest of all the zodiacal men.

Sex + Sexuality (what they are like in bed and what they look for in a mate):

Leo Man Interested in Women:

When it comes to sex, nobody can hold out on “getting some” like the Leo man.

He is vigilant in his determination to “do without” until someone worthy enough comes along.

Sex for him is an empty experience if his heart isn’t in it.

He trusts his heart over his mind, and will never settle for second best.

More Leos will marry their high school sweetheart than any other zodiacal male because once he feels he finds the one he is committed.

However, if he does not end up with his high school sweetheart then you end up having a whole different type of Leo man, who is willing to work through a string of women, holding an ongoing contest for his permanent affections, putting each woman he links up with through a trial by fire, gauging her emotional capacities.

The Leo man hopes to appeal to a woman who’ll buy into his presumption of superiority, sharing in and, thus, imbuing herself with that same dominance and authority.

The Leo man will always live in the spotlight no matter how small that spotlight may be; and he, consciously or not, hopes that his “place in the sun” will lure potential lovers to him.

He wants a woman who is strong, autonomous yet fiercely loyal, and a haughty diva in public but a valuable little girl in private. Not that he wants to overpower her, but rather, he wants to please, protect, and come to her emotional rescue.

Often without even knowing it himself, he is drawn to women who lack a father's love in their life. Women who have a toughened exterior that is hiding an ultra tender, aching heart.

He will purposefully run hot and cold, testing a woman's emotional stamina.

He also has a tendency to toy with women's affections, while he has no interest in them and has no intention of investing emotionally in them.

He gets a thrill out of stringing girls along.

He is ultimately searching for his regal counterpart, he will even get bored with women who continuously make themselves ‘too’ available to him.

The Leo man looks for a woman who is deserving of him, and oftentimes it is the one who demands to be deserved by him.

He wants a woman who will deliver him an ultimatum. One that says that he can go around with all those other women, but he has to treat her like gold, or she’s gone. That is when he will finally settle down because she is the woman he has been waiting for his whole life.

He has been waiting to find the woman who has the courage to demand he be her champion and protector, considering herself worthy of the royal treatment he will offer.

Relationships are all or nothing for him. He spends most of his early life holding back, both emotionally and sexually, until he finds a love worthy of pouring himself into.

Because of this, he has a hard time letting go when he is broken up with.

He feels the need to be a father figure to women.

He isn’t looking to be adored, but rather to find himself a lover worthy to adore.

He is typically drawn to the dark woman who exudes a sultry sensuality encased within a sturdy, full-figured woman.

As I mentioned above, he can oftentimes be a fatphobe, however he still holds the curvy, hourglass, woman in the highest esteem.

He gravitates towards vivacious women who seem full of good health and vigor, perhaps by way of athletic capabilities.

Despite the fact that he ends up with a woman who demands royal treatment, he still expects her to understand that he is above her in the relationship. He is the king and she is his queen.

He is the most monogamous of most males; and he believes that even looking at other women is almost as bad as touching them.

He prides himself on loyalty, and when in an unhappy marriage he would rather grin and bear it than admit defeat. Still, even then he would never stray. He’s not one to seek sex. But he will let love find him. If his heart begins to swell for another woman, he will pack up and leave for her. And when he goes, he is gone. This is because as deeply as he loved, the loss is more profound than any love he ever felt for that person.

He has the hardest time recovering from lost love, especially when he didn’t see it coming. He will be crippled at being cast aside, that the sulking could last for years.

When it comes time to consummate the relationship, in his mind, this is a ceremonious affair.

The actual act of sex is a big deal for the Leo man, and it is a turn-off if his lover doesn’t share this heightened, somewhat dramatic perspective.

If he even gets the slightest whiff that his lover is “too seasoned” in the bedroom, he will leave her in the dust.

He is one of the most sexist of all the other men in the zodiac.

He is very vanilla. Sex to him should never be too sleazy, which is why he is rarely one to try new things.

Most often, it is the woman who must take on the driver's seat when it comes to initiating sex with this guy.

If he is feeling a bit freaky, it is most regularly a dominance role-play he will embark in. Obviously it will be his partner who is submissive because he still feels superior even in the bedroom.

However, in most cases, the Leo man does not have a kinky bone in his body.

Sex always has to be taken slow with him. And every sexual encounter should feel like the first time, or at least a special occasion.

He is not really a giver in the bedroom, however he would love to receive.

He expects sex as an everyday thing in his relationship and if the schedules don’t permit it, then he will find a day to devote to sex. Making it an all day event to make up for the lost time.

Playing with his balls, especially by running your fingernails across them, during intercourse will have him in the palm of your hand.

Other erogenous zones for him are his chest, his back, his scalp, and his neck.

Sex is something he would never boast about outside his home. Where, even there, it is something he avoids in conversation.

Leo Man Interested in Men:

The gay Leo man is typically straight passing. Because when he is young, he is slightly afraid to own his sexuality and be proud of it. So he tends to want to appear straight so no one questions him.

However, as he matures, he is more out and proud than most of his gay friends; pride itself is a more prominent virtue for the gay Leo man than it will ever be for the straight one.

Looking ‘straight’ also serves another purpose for him; it attracts female friends, who usually make up the greater part of his adoring fan base.

Regardless of sexual orientation, the Leo man needs to know he appeals to a pride of women.

Most of his male friends are straight, and, they too, are subject to his dominion, being typically wimpier in the presence of the Leo man.

He will put his straight friends' dates through the same sort of trials by fire the straight Leo man puts his prospective mates does.

His friends are forbidden to express any opinion about his choice of lover, though it will be very tempting for his friend circle to do so.

He tends to seek out the streety, even tricky types whose character might be, if not suspect, then at least wholly out of sync with his own.

While the straight Leo wants a ready-made queen, the gay Leo seems to enjoy slumming it in search of some “lost” male orphan whom he can adopt and have benefit from his natural fatherly energy.

He typically goes for younger guys, however, he can sometimes go for guys his own age too.

Once he settles down, it is usually with a guy from a similar background as his own. If not someone who is from the same town, school, or socioeconomic sphere. Though this guy will be decidedly less sunny than him.

He will typically find himself in the black cat and golden retriever type of relationship. Where he is the golden retriever.

He wants to shower so much affection on his partner that it has a healing and stabilizing effect.

He is seeking to be the most successful good-looking, masculine gay couple of all time.

He may attract a partner who is willing to bask in the glory of being around the Leo man and not want to put in any work, only reaping the rewards that the Leo man worked so hard to achieve.

However, the Leo man expects his partner to at least pretend to have some sort of ambition. So, if his partner doesn’t he will leave them in a heartbeat.

He is the most jealous man with, hands down, the hottest temper of any man in the zodiac, and he takes cheating as a crime against nature, God, and along such lines, himself.

That goes for the straight Leo man as well.

The only way the Leo man would entertain the thought of another in the bedroom is if that third party wanted nothing more than to watch. He loves to show off how good he is.

Deep kissing and body contact typically top the list of his favorite things. Along with massage and mutual masturbation.

He will let his lover “blow” him, but he is uncomfortable in the service position.

He wants to be adored in the bedroom so, his partner should be the one to worship his body, not the other way around.

He places great emphasis on love as opposed to sex, and if his heart isn’t in it, then he will not do it.

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

What Could Have Been

Chapter Two

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 11.5K

Status: Ongoing

Author's note: A story about two broken people making mistakes, not being heroes and yet trying to find a way to love  themselves and each other.

Song for this Chapter: Dream Girl Evil : Spotify Link

A03

Entire Story Link on AO3

Spotify Playlist

Chapter 2: Shall We Cut and Run?

Astarion's gaze lingered on Sima, shadow etching her silhouette into a ghostly shape that whispered both temptation and terror. As he slowly followed her, a subtle change washed over his typically stern visage—his predatory arrogance softened into a tender, longing look. Though she was but a dark outline against the encompassing blackness, his mind swelled with vivid, wistful fantasies.

The hedge maze, crafted with exquisite precision, unfurled around them. Each pathway branched and twisted, a complex network of choices that all led inexorably towards the center. The thick hedges shielded wanderers from prying eyes, but the statues which nestled within little alcoves along the paths told tales of their own. Each sculpture captured a different tableau of human indulgence—erotic, sensual, and unapologetically explicit. These stone narratives left naught to the imagination.

As Astarion trailed behind her, he commenced an experiment with his powers. His first attempt was a subtle compulsion, aimed to make her halt—a whisper of thought that might tame a creature as simple as a dog. It was his play at simplicity, yet her defiance was unexpectedly robust. The simplicity of his mental command met a fortress rather than a surrender; Sima's mental fortitude far surpassed what he had anticipated. Though thwarted, he was undeterred, his confidence unshaken as he pressed on, determined to claim victory by turning her, and by any means necessary.

Sima, meanwhile, darted deeper into the maze, her movements quick and determined. The protective spell—Mind Fortress—cast upon her by her ally Gale proved its worth, shielding her from the invading whispers of control. Her path wound past the lascivious statues, their provocative forms a stark contrast to her focused escape.

Astarion lips curled into a splitting grin at her persistence. Her resilience was unexpected, but it was a delightful twist in his nocturnal hunt. Patience was his eternal companion, and the chase, a thrilling game that ignited the primal joy of pursuit within him.

Suddenly, the Sending Stone in Sima's pocket pulsed with life, its flare a beacon of readiness from her companions. She seized the moment with provocation dripping from her voice: "Astarion! Seems like your spells aren't quite up to snuff. I'm near the center now!" Her laughter followed, sultry yet tinged with madness, and it echoed through the leafy corridors.

In response, Astarion’s smile broadened, his teeth a flash of menace in the moonlight. He relished the challenge, the playful taunt that elevated the stakes of their encounter. With a flick of his will, he cast Dissonant Whispers, the spell fanning out across the maze like a toxic mist.

Sima staggered under the assault of the psychic energy, sharp pain lancing through her skull, yet she remained upright. The spell inadvertently drove her further from Astarion's reach, propelling her toward the heart of the maze—the center—a space marked by its serene, ominous calm.

As she reached the central clearing, the atmosphere shifted. Here, amidst large, ancient trees and scattered rocks, the air hung still, heavy with an unspoken history of silence and secrets. No birds sang, no cheerful chirps disturbed the hush; only the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional, distant rustle of small creatures punctuated the quiet. Sima's eyes darted around, her senses razor-sharp as she stood in the silence, the weight of moments stretching into an uncomfortable suspense. Time seemed to dilate, each second stretching out before her. The only sound was her own breathing, sharp and ragged in her ears, filling the clearing with the loud echo of her solitude. As seconds turned into minutes, doubt began to creep in, shadowing her thoughts with uncertainty. Was he coming? Had she been misled? The waiting gnawed at her, a test of patience and nerve.

Then, without warning, he materialized as if conjured by the shadows themselves, his approach silent yet heavy with intent. His smile was cruel, like a sculptor crafting nightmares from the dark, and his eyes burned with fervent desire. The challenge she posed seemed only to heighten his anticipation as he stepped forward, the space between them crackling with the electric charge of his unbridled lust.

As Astarion drew near, the air between them thrummed with the tension of an impending storm. He extended a hand, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a caress that mingled delicacy with dominion. His breath, a whisper against her skin, was hot with hunger. In that moment, he leaned in so close that his lips nearly grazed her neck, the proximity, a torment of what might come.

His other hand snaked into her hair, gripping her dark ringlets, pulling her closer with a possessive urgency. Sima, caught in his hold, sneered with fiery defiance, "I resisted you. The game’s not over until I submit, remember?"

His chuckle was low, resonating with dark amusement as he tightened his grasp slightly. "Is that so? I see that my spells have proven ineffective on you... so I suppose I will have to change my tactics. But the game will still end with your submission. You are mine, whether by spell or force. Or both."

"Are you a brute now?” Sima hissed back, her voice laced with venom. “Is that the beast you've become?"

His smile widened as he inhaled her scent, basking in the heat of their confrontation and imagined the musk of her arousal. "And are you a defiant little thing now, playing at resistance? There is nothing wrong with being a brute, when that same brute can offer such delight."

Her response was swift—a sharp slap across his face. His flinch was minute, the sting overshadowed by a torrent of conflicting emotions. He faced her again, his expression devoid of bitterness, only holding fascination. "Oh, really now, my dear?" The grin he gave her grin was chilling, his hold unyielding as he drew her even closer.

Sima met his gaze, unflinching, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "You know, I thought I was going to enjoy this, but now I know... I'm going to love seeing the look on your face."

Pressing the Sending Stone, she uttered a single, potent word to her companions lurking outside the maze. "NOW!"

Above the entangled hedges of the maze, where the night seemed to press its dark weight against the world, a formidable ninth level Lightening Cage shimmered into existence. It encased the entire labyrinth like a steel trap designed by celestial forces, impervious to mundane interference.

Inside the electric snare, Sima, driven by a mix of desperation and dark determination, unleashed a Thunderwave spell at Astarion with the ferocity of a tempest at sea. Her incantation, amplified to the sixth level, crashed into him like the unchecked power of a tidal wave slamming against the shore.

The impact of the spell hit Astarion with a visceral force, sending sharp, jarring pain shooting through his body as if he were being torn apart by the storm's fury. He was hurled backward by the spell’s relentless energy, landing with a thud that vibrated through the ground, making the leaves tremble in the aftermath. The pain was sudden and sharp, a searing reminder of the spell’s potency.

Lying on the ground, stunned, he blinked up at the black sky, his ears ringing with the thunderous roar of Sima’s magic. The sensation was disorienting, leaving his senses scrambled and his body aching from the harsh landing. As the initial shock faded into a throbbing ache that pulsed through his limbs, a mixture of adrenaline and astonishment fueled his recovery.

Pushing through the pain, he staggered to his feet, a grin slicing across his face despite the ache that clung to his every movement. His eyes, alight with a mix of amusement and challenge, locked onto Sima’s fierce form. "Oh my... you… you little..." he managed, his voice blending incredulity with the thrill of the confrontation. "How dare you!"

In response, Sima's hands danced through the air, weaving more Arcane Energy than seemed possible. Clutched in her grasp was a metal box, its surface plain yet somehow ominous. Her eyes, wide and wild, mirrored the black ringlets that flew about her head, as if caught in the same storm she conjured. Her beautiful face twisted into an expression of unbridled rage. "You… fucking beast. You, who took his face and destroyed him. My Astarion, the one I loved...I have spent a year doing the vilest, most horrible things to obtain enough power to finish you. And then... once you're gone… He'll be here. He'll be safe. The spawn who loved me," she declared, her voice a tempest of rage, heartbreak, and grief.

Tears streaked her cheeks as she continued, her words breaking with emotion. "You're going to pay for taking him from me… HE WAS MINE!" With a surge of vengeful energy, she cast a spell of Hold Monster on Astarion.

Astarion’s smirk twisted into a scowl as the spell seized him, freezing his muscles and locking him in place. Despite his efforts to resist, the enchantment gripped him tightly, rendering him motionless yet fully aware. "You... impudent little..."

Sima approached him, the box of Arcane Energy hovering ominously behind her. Her stride was determined, each step a declaration of war. She reached him and delivered a fierce slap, followed swiftly by a backhanded strike. "Let me spell it out. I'll use the words of the spawn who died to bring you forth. Fuck you. And fuck everything you ever did to me!"

Astarion, held captive by the spell, felt each hit as if they were aimed at his very soul. His fury deepened, his voice thick with venom when he spoke. "Those words have no meaning to me or my power. They have no magic over me, and you could never truly mean them. Because you're nothing but a puppet in a puppet show, an entertainer here to entertain me. You're just a little girl with less wit and power than you could ever dream of."

Sima's response was raw and unrestrained. "You never loved me! You...you are nothing but something left behind when… my Astarion, my love… made a terrible mistake. A mistake I mean to correct," she retorted, her voice thick with emotion.

She turned back to the glowing red box, its eerie luminescence painting her face in sinister shades. "But soon you'll be gone...and he'll be mine again. See...I bound 7 souls to that box. I had to destroy 7 lives...just like Cazador and the siblings in the ritual circle… and we're going to save him, you see. I'm going to save him," she explained, her voice edged with madness. "So shut up and enjoy the show. Tonight the Ascendent dies and Astarion Ancunín returns," she proclaimed, pulling him closer by the collar, her face a mask of maniac determination.

Astarion, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions, shook with rage. "You are wrong. I gave up everything for you. I changed everything for you. I became the most powerful vampire in Baldur's Gate in order to be with you. I am stronger and better now than I could ever have been before. Do you think I want to go back to that life? I had nothing then—it was the life of a slave. Now? I have everything. I have everything… I… have you..."

Her reply was swift and fierce, a slap that echoed through the still air. "LIES! No more lies...no, no, no, no...Even my Astarion told the truth… The truth is, he did it for power… to be safe… but it destroyed him… and then it destroyed me, and then 7 more people… but I'm going to fix it. I even have leads on a Sunwalker ring for him… And then, he'll come back and love me again," she raged, her fury unabated as she returned to the box.

"Now shut up and let me work. That spell lasts an hour, and I just need 10 more minutes," she declared, her focus unyielding.

Astarion, trapped within his own body and mind, seethed with frustration. "Stop this, Sima, please… please..."

But his pleas were in vain as Sima, undeterred, continued her ritual. The raw emotion, the sheer force of her will, and the darkness of her journey shone through her every word and action, painting a portrait of a woman transformed by vengeance and a desperate hope for redemption.

As Astarion stood transfixed, the magnitude of Sima's resolve washed over him, stirring ancient feelings that had slumbered within his cold heart for eons. Her devotion, born from a maelstrom of grief and manic determination, left an indelible mark on his spirit. It was an obsession that reached beyond the bounds of sanity, touching him deeply.

"You'd really change everything just for me? Darling, I never expected you to do anything so insane as this," he uttered, his voice beginning to fray at the edges as emotions he’d believed to be long dead continued to stir anew. The mention of the Sunwalker Ring—a mystical, legendary artifact lost to the annals of time—ignited a flicker of hope and fear in his ancient heart.

"I'd burn down the world for him. If I die doing this spell, well... he'll be free. Safe. Unchanged. Be able to make better choices. And if we both die, well, I guess I'll spend the afterlife in the Hells with him, so... it'll work out," Sima concluded. Her voice had a haunting conviction, a cascade of madness and profound love.

Caught in the gravity of her declaration, Astarion was rendered speechless. The realization that she truly loved him, that she was willing to undertake such extreme measures for his sake, shook him to his core. Yet, the insanity of her plan, the potential consequences of the wish spell on his very essence, filled him with dread. Her knowledge of his darker past only added layers to his turmoil.

"I'm going to fix it, my love. I'm going to fix it and you'll never hurt again. Because I'll be with you, I'll be a little insane, but you'll like that about me," Sima murmured deliriously, lost in her visions of speaking to the Astarion who had been hers and only hers, before the ritual's dark touch.

"It's ready," she finally announced, while the formidable Hold Monster spell still clutched Astarion in its invisible grip.

He watched her, seeing the deep adoration etched onto her face. The madness shimmering in her eyes was reminiscent of the tragic tales of old lovers lost to darkness. Yet, unlike those tales that stirred disgust, her expression pulled at something forgotten within him. Her soft mutterings, her gentle whispers to the void, were not just echoes of madness, but a desperate plea to rewind time, to restore what had once been.

Her eyes, alight with a mix of desperation and an intoxicating hope, nearly broke him. She envisioned a life that could have been theirs—a life of equals, without the curses of their nature dividing them.

"Any last words before I make the wish?" she asked, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within her.

Astarion fought against the magical bonds, his face twisting in irritation, a low hiss escaping between clenched teeth. But as he caught her gaze again, his expression softened, warped by a blend of sarcasm and an aching sadness. 

"Well?" she asked.

"Godsdamn it, woman! I wish you could have loved me as I am," he roared, his voice a mix of laughter and agony. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, embodying the complexity of his emotions—his love, warped by circumstance, and her relentless pursuit to reclaim a past version of himself.

As Sima drew upon the Arcane Energy around her, the clearing was bathed in an infernal glow, casting long shadows that danced like demons at a witch’s sabbath. Her body was slick with the sweat of her exertion, her features twisted in the agony of channeling one of the most potent spells known to the arcane world—the Wish Spell, a command over fate itself.

"I Wish..." she began, her voice resonant with the power of creation and destruction.

Inside Astarion, a tumultuous battle of wills raged. He felt the iron grip of the Hold Monster spell binding him, squeezing the fight from his limbs. Yet, as Sima's incantation filled the air, a fierce determination ignited within him. With a Herculean effort, he marshaled his inner strength, his entire being focused on breaking the Arcane shackles. With a defiant roar that echoed through the mystical bindings, Astarion shattered the spell’s hold, freeing himself from its paralyzing embrace.

Seizing this newfound freedom with desperate urgency, Astarion lunged at her. Their bodies collided, tumbling to the earth covered in leaves and shadows, a desperate struggle against fate itself. The impact of their collision was violent and primal, as if the very earth itself shook under the weight of their conflict.

He held her tightly, his grip fierce as he sought to shatter her concentration. Sima's scream, a banshee's wail, tore through the night as her body hit the maze’s grassy mound, the spell's power coursing through her.

"No!" she cried, fighting against the overwhelming force of the spell as the tendrils of magic slipped from her fingers and the power fizzled out into nothingness.

"Stop this, right now!" Astarion demanded, his voice a mix of command and desperation as he tightened his hold, trying to calm her thrashing.

"Get off me you prick! Karlach! Gale! Anyone!" she screamed into the void, but her calls for help went unanswered, her allies ensnared by Astarion's spawn outside the vanished Lightning Cage.

"Shut up... I'm not hurting you... yet. Just be still," he whispered, his tone low and fraught with urgency.

In a final act of defiance, Sima headbutted Astarion with surprising force. The impact was sharp and immediate, like a bolt of lightning striking directly at his senses. It sent a shockwave of pain through his head, radiating outward and causing his vision to blur momentarily. Astarion staggered back, his hands reflexively releasing her as he grappled with the sudden, throbbing pain that echoed inside his skull.

As Astarion reeled from the impact, Sima seized the moment, her small frame moving with deceptive speed. Her energy and momentum were a testament to her unwavering resolve, propelling her towards a hoped-for escape from the center of the hedge maze. Despite the jarring pain clouding his thoughts, Astarion recognized that even without his magic to aid him, it would take more than mere physical strength to restrain her fierce will to fight.

In the shadowed heart of the hedge maze, Sima ran, her laughter slicing through the eerie silence like a mad symphony. It was the laughter of a woman unmoored by grief, her mind teetering on the brink as she grappled with the catastrophic failure of her year-long gambit. The deaths of seven souls weighed heavily on her conscience, their spectral fingers clawing at her sanity. Yet, even in the throes of despair, her instinct to survive surged powerfully within her, fueling her desperate flight through the labyrinth designed to confound and capture.

The hedges of the palace maze were a living puzzle, green walls towering and formidable. As she ran, her fingers brushed against the damp leaves, tracing the cold, wet contours that formed her verdant prison. The maze was cunningly crafted, with blind alleys and deceiving dead ends that looped back on themselves, its paths a tangled web that toyed with one's sense of direction.

Lost amidst the endless turns, Sima felt the maze’s walls loom taller and more oppressive, a physical manifestation of her crumbling mental defenses. With each twist and turn, her fear grew, knowing that if Astarion chose to wield his vampiric charms now, she would be utterly defenseless, her ability to resist his dark allure all but shattered.

The labyrinth seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own, the paths twisting and turning back on themselves like the coiling intestines of some giant beast. It was a nightmare from which she could not awaken, a trap that morphed and breathed around her, designed to ensnare and disorient its prey perpetually.

In her desperation, Sima attempted to escape the claustrophobic confines by climbing the hedges. Below, the sinister whispers of Astarion’s spawn filtered through the leaves, their presence an ominous symphony of impending doom. As she clawed her way up, Astarion’s voice cut through the din, chilling and smooth. "You will not escape me, dear." His command unleashed his minions, who tore through the hedges with supernatural ferocity, their forms blurs of shadow and malice.

"Fuck!" Sima cursed, feeling the cold, inhuman hands of the spawn clutch at her ankles, dragging her down with relentless strength. Her resistance was fierce but futile; the spawn overpowered her with ease, their strength monstrous as they pulled her through the underbrush to where Astarion awaited with a cold, predatory smile. But as she was dragged out, that smile flickered to a scowl.

"You were trying to run, darling?" Astarion's voice was silky, laced with a mock tenderness that belied the sharpness in his eyes.

As Sima was forcibly brought onto the palace grounds, her spirit unbroken, she lunged at him, only to be restrained by the iron grip of his spawn. "How dare you rob me of this! I could have had him back! You fucking bastard!" she screamed, her voice raw with fury and pain.

The twisted smile returned to Astarion's lips as he stood over her, savoring her defiance. Without a word, he unleashed his vampiric compulsion, a potent force that demanded submission. "Be still, my love," he whispered, the power of his command wrapping around her like a shroud.

Under the weight of his spell, Sima’s body went slack, her fierce spirit temporarily caged within an unresponsive shell, though her voice remained defiant, "You....bastard...."

Carefully, the spawn laid her on the ground. Astarion approached, his gaze soft yet piercing as he looked down at her. "You have been running and hiding from me for long enough, darling. It is time you stopped. Do you understand?" he asked, his voice a blend of command and coaxing.

"You will never have...my heart...I still love… who you were… a spawn. Mine… You are not him," Sima responded, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and insanity, her body paralyzed but her spirit untamed.

Astarion nodded, acknowledging her words with a smile that masked his inner turmoil. "You are quite right, love. It is time you stop thinking of me as who I have been. I am not a spawn anymore, it's true. I am a full vampire, with the power a lord of the night deserves. A vampire lord. I am not who you once knew, but I am better than that, am I not? I am more powerful, and I will be a far better lover. But the real question is... are you ready to give yourself to me fully now?"

"Fuck… you..." Sima spat, her voice a venomous hiss.

Astarion sighed, his hand reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. "I know you think that, dear, but I am certain we can work it out. All I need you to do is accept me. Accept this new me, this me that you once loved. Because I still love you with my entire being. Don't resist me, and there won't be any reason I can't be soft with you. You will never want for anything but me, and you will never have to worry about anyone else touching you ever again."

Her response was a simple, cold, "No." Her eyes reflected nothing but hatred and disdain.

Acknowledging her refusal with a nod, Astarion's expression hardened. "Very well. If you're going to be stubborn about this, then you leave me no choice but to take what you will not give me willingly."

Sima was then escorted through the cold, echoing corridors of the palace to the dungeons. The heavy iron doors swung open to reveal a vast chamber lined with cages. The air was thick with despair, each cell a small chapter in a tale of captivity and sorrow. She was led to a particularly large cell, its bars thick and unyielding, the stone frigid and unwelcoming.

Exhausted, Sima lay on the cot, still clad in her black leathers, the spell of compulsion binding her will until dawn. As the spawn secured the door and retreated, leaving her in the dim light of her cell, she was alone with her thoughts—the echoes of Astarion’s words that would haunt her until the spell released her or broke her completely.

Outside her cell, Astarion tarried in the shadows, his gaze lingering on the iron bars that now caged his once-fervent lover. In the quiet of the dungeon, his mind turned over the events of the evening, each moment unfolding again in his thoughts. This was the culmination of long-laid plans, the intricate dance of fate and will that had led them here. Sima, with her fiery spirit and unyielding defiance, would soon be his, not just in spirit but in eternity.

As he pondered the transformation he would soon bestow upon her, a sense of triumph, mixed with a complex, almost melancholic satisfaction, filled him. He envisioned her rebirth into the dark gift of vampirism, a transformation that would bind her to him forever in the shadows of immortality. Tonight marked the nearing of his ultimate conquest—to turn her into a true vampire and claim her as his eternal consort. This thought alone tempered the cold halls with a whisper of dark anticipation, as he prepared to welcome her into the everlasting night that was his domain.

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of Dokkodo

The philosophy of Dokkōdō, or "The Way of Walking Alone," is a code of ethics and principles written by the legendary Japanese swordsman Miyamoto Musashi shortly before his death. The text consists of 21 precepts that reflect Musashi’s deeply personal insights into self-discipline, independence, and simplicity in life. As a set of guiding principles, Dokkōdō encourages a life of minimalism, self-reliance, and mental fortitude.

Key Principles and Themes in the Philosophy of Dokkōdō

Independence and Self-Reliance: Dokkōdō advocates for a life of inner independence. Musashi's precepts often emphasize not relying on others for emotional support or validation, and instead, finding strength within. This aligns with his warrior philosophy, which sees self-mastery as the ultimate goal.

Non-Attachment: One of the core themes in Dokkōdō is detachment—not only from material possessions but also from desires, emotions, and even people. Musashi advises against being attached to physical or emotional comforts, advocating instead for a balanced, centered approach that allows one to move freely and without encumbrances. This mindset reflects the Buddhist influence in Musashi’s philosophy, where letting go of attachments leads to clarity and inner peace.

Simplicity and Minimalism: Dokkōdō promotes a minimalist lifestyle focused on needs rather than desires. Musashi’s own life reflected this, as he wandered without settling, needing little beyond his sword and the essentials. The text emphasizes that simplicity not only reduces distractions but also strengthens the mind and spirit.

Discipline and Self-Mastery: The philosophy of Dokkōdō calls for rigorous self-discipline. Musashi was a swordsman known for his skill, and his precepts echo the dedication required to achieve mastery. Self-discipline is seen as a necessary path to self-understanding and resilience, whether in martial arts or in life.

Acceptance of Mortality: Musashi writes with a clear awareness of mortality and the transient nature of life. Dokkōdō reflects a samurai’s readiness to face death at any moment. This acceptance helps one to act without fear, avoid unnecessary attachments, and live authentically.

Self-Reflection and Constant Improvement: Musashi’s philosophy encourages continuous self-reflection, aiming to deepen self-knowledge and improve one’s character. Through this inner examination, one can identify weaknesses, work on self-discipline, and strive for personal growth.

Strength in Solitude: Musashi emphasizes finding inner strength through solitude, which is seen as an opportunity for self-discovery and resilience. Rather than viewing solitude as loneliness, Musashi reframes it as a chance to cultivate independence and focus, free from the influence of others.

Notable Precepts of Dokkōdō

Some of Musashi’s most notable precepts include:

"Accept everything just the way it is." – A reminder to avoid resisting reality and cultivate acceptance.

"Do not seek pleasure for its own sake." – Advising against indulgence that can lead to dependency or distraction.

"Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world." – Encouraging humility and a broader perspective beyond self-centered concerns.

"Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love." – Suggesting emotional detachment to remain centered.

"Do not regret what you have done." – Advocating for full commitment to one’s actions without dwelling on past mistakes.

Philosophical Implications of Dokkōdō

Inner Resilience: The teachings of Dokkōdō promote a stoic resilience that helps individuals withstand adversity. By encouraging detachment and self-discipline, Musashi’s philosophy offers a framework for staying calm and purposeful even in difficult situations.

Transcending Desire: By minimizing desires and attachments, Musashi's principles align with certain Zen and Buddhist philosophies. This approach allows individuals to cultivate inner peace and focus by not allowing material or emotional desires to control their lives.

Pragmatism and Focus: Dokkōdō’s emphasis on minimalism and non-attachment helps cultivate a life focused on essentials. This pragmatic outlook encourages mental clarity, allowing individuals to prioritize what truly matters in life without getting distracted.

Mastery Through Solitude: The importance of solitude in Dokkōdō underlines the path of mastery, where inner strength is found in one's own company. Musashi’s philosophy teaches that solitude is not a weakness but a strength that can lead to a deeper understanding of oneself.

Ethical Individualism: Dokkōdō’s principles encourage a highly personal ethical code—one that values honor, authenticity, and responsibility to oneself over conformity to societal expectations. It reflects Musashi’s view that a person’s strength and identity come from within.

[arcane-abomination]

I was hesitant to share this but the entities I work with assure me that some people can benefit from reading it. Even if that benefit is pure inspiration, I think it’s worth having.

What’s a Magick Circle

Simply put, a magick circle is a casting of energy that readies a space for additional Magickal workings. Most of the time this has to do with calling forth the necessary energies you will use to empower the magick itself, like the elements for insurance, while also setting up a protective ward that banishes unwanted energy from the outside from taking effect.

Now it’s important to remember that you don’t need a magick circle to do Witchcraft but it does help. A magick circle is a powerful tool. Just as a pencil is a tool to write down a novel but a computer is a more efficient one. In this blog I will talk about the many ways to which I personally open my circle. I won’t give out my exact method word for word but I will explain the constructions of what I cast

Simple Circle

My most simplest of circles doesn’t call any energy but my own. It’s as quick as waving my wand or atheme in a clockwise motion and declaring it open, then doing the same in a counterclockwise motion and declaring it closed. The simplest of spells gets this treatment, if at all.

Complex Circle

This is my primary circle. The one I put lots of stock and time into developing. It’s not that quick to open nor is it restricted to the simplicities of traditional elements. It’s made up of not one but 4 definitive casts. Every cast has a certain number of elemental pieces within it. Each one of which maintaining a corresponding entity associated with its respective energy. Calling these entities as a power source for each individual element in this way, creates a special fortitude that empowers and strengthens my space.

(Some of the names in this list may not be recognizable to many of you. This is because these are either self made godforms, or entities from realms outside our own.)

The Outer Circle

The first piece, is the outer circle, the core energy that resonates as the building blocks for the others. It’s represented by Life, Death, Chaos & Order. The stepping stones that are reflect in all things, and are the first step in the creation of all additional energy within my practice. They are represented by the following:

⚜️ Life: Florentine

⚜️ Death: Necros

⚜️ Chaos: Yog Sothoth

⚜️ Order: Azazel

The Upper Realm

This is the top of the subsequent, “second circle” and is a reflection of the finer building blocks within energies. They are the weapons and tools that carve out the finer details of the circle that’s cast. These elements are:

⚜️ Spirit: Hör’hem

⚜️ Void: Creator Azathoth

⚜️ Light: Lilith

⚜️ Darkness: Mi’Taal

The Lower Realm

This is the bottom of the “second circle” and is reflected in traditional energy as it’s built, broken down, and reformed. These elements are represented by the following entities:

⚜️ Earth: Shub Niggurath

⚜️ Air: Loki

⚜️ Fire: Hecate

⚜️ Water: Leviathan

The Inner Circle

This is arguably the most important circle. These Entities are my spirit council/court. Guides that have been with me for a long time. Trusted partners that aid me in all that I do. I will not share their names here but they represent my familiar, my void guide, my shamanic guide, and my dragon guide. Each functions in its own special way guiding the energies to a much deeper involvement within the space.

(I also place these guys as guardians of the four directions.)

I realize this list may be extensive or even excessive to some, but I put great importance on every entity I allot to work alongside me. We communicate and form our own rules and reasoning around what elements they empower and why. Reasoning that I will not be discuss here, as it relates to some more personal parts of my practice that I would like to keep private, but I digress.

As for the overall method of casting, energy and the corresponding entities are called in turn by word of mouth as my grimoire is opened to a symbolic seal drawn within its pages. A seal that contains special sigils and other alchemical symbols within it. What exactly I say and what exactly this seal looks like are not something I’m going to share entirely online. As the complexities of this ritual and the symbols I use are a private function that only those gathered in the sacred space are privy to. It’s sacred to me and my practice, and signifies the bond I share with the otherworldly forces that I connect with.

Most of the time I need nothing but my grimoire to cast my circle, since every symbol upon the seal is charged as a vessel in of itself. But on occasion I may use certain selected stones or icons as needed.

This is a very rudimentary version of my circle just to give you an idea of how it works from a visual standpoint. Feel free to use this guide to make your own if you so desire.

In Conclusion

I hope this blog peeked your interest a little in the art of the Magickal circle. I’m aware that my method may be complicated and more unique but it’s what works for me. I found the rift that i I ride and you all should do the same. There’s no clear wrong way to develop a circle. Follow what works for you.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Bloodbrush

CR 2

Neutral Small Plant

Numeria, Land of Fallen Stars, pg. 47

When at rest, Bloodbrush look like normal, everyday tumbleweeds. Even when in motion, it takes a keen eye to see anything particularly weird about their coloration... but when that rolling weed suddenly stops, changes direction, and starts bounding towards you against the wind, you may begin to realize it's not normal. Bloodbrush are one of many mindless carnivorous plants on Golarion's surface, though it's at least it's not a towering, insatiable flesh-eater with roots like spider legs and crushing teeth!

Like other Plants without those features, though, you may immediately be able to tell which typical Plant weapon it does have. Plant monsters tend to work like that; if you can't immediately identify an orifice through which they plan to ingest you, there's probably either A) spores, B) poison, or C) invasive roots/branches. In the case of the Bloodbrush, it's B and sort of C! Their tactics in battle are simple as one can expect from a CR 2 creature with no feats or Intelligence: they initiate with their Powerful Charge, dealing 2d4+3 damage once they hit and latching on with Grab (which they can use vs Medium targets).

Being punctured by the brambles Barbs takes 1d4 piercing and 1 bleed damage, and there's a startlingly long list of ways to prick yourself on their 6-inch thorns: hitting them with a non-reach melee attack, making any form of Combat Maneuver against them (whether or not the attempt succeeds), attempting to use Escape Artist to weasel out of their grapple (whether or not the attempt succeeds), and starting your turn grappled (of course). It's ~only~ 1d4 damage and 1 bleed, but with SO many ways to suffer it and given how there's no way to avoid the Barbs without using a reach weapon, that's a lot of incidental damage over the course of the fight. And this is while the little bastard brush is bashing you over and over for 1d3+3 damage and trying to Grab on!

Bashing them back won't quite work; they have DR 5 that's only bypassed by slashing damage, which I assume is because piercing and bludgeoning weapons basically don't do well against their cage-like bodies. You know what DOES work, and works well? Fire. They're Vulnerable to Fire and terribly Flammable besides, bursting into flames upon taking even a single point of Fire damage and taking 1d6 Fire damage each round they continue to burn (unless they succeed a DC 15 Reflex save, which they only have a +1 to). Be careful, though, because while burning them away works quick and works well, it also works against YOU, as it adds 1d6 Fire damage to their slam and their Barbs, vastly accelerating the rate they deal damage to people trying to attack them back.

Ah, I forgot about the poison despite going out of my way to point it out; any creature that takes damage from the Barbs is exposed to it automatically, and it requires a DC 14 Fortitude save to resist. Otherwise, it afflicts the victim with a potent numbing agent that causes delightful hallucinations to dance across their vision for up to 4 rounds. That's just the first dose, though! With every single exposure to the Barbs, that's +2 to the DC and +2 rounds of duration. An unlucky victim might be pricked twice a round--once being grappled, and once for failing to escape it, forcing them to make a DC 16 Fortitude save once a round for 6 rounds and losing their turn every time they fail... which means they can't fight back as the brush chews them apart, soaks in their blood, and plants its seeds in their corpse.

It's a simple monster! But in that simplicity lays incredible danger. Thanks to its powerful initiation and a poison that's practically a paralytic, a single Bloodbrush can almost assuredly take a single creature out of the fight as soon as it hits them with Powerful Charge. Multiple brush attacking multiple party members at once could easily spell doom for the whole group! But luckily they lack the tactical acumen for such a potent assault. Do you know who doesn't? The people the Bloodbrush's article talk about who weaponize them, growing them on the corpses of their enemies and keeping them in wicker baskets that are opened in battle to unleash them. How to spice up any fight: Add in flesh-eating, hallucinogenic tumbleweeds! They even tend to attack their handlers, for added chaos!

You can read more about them here.

[koiguy94]

A Schizo Rant

Let me say this: everything that I'm about to say is pretty much nonsense, and if I lose you less than a quarter in, I don't blame you, I probably will too once I get started.

Why do people do anything?

I don't know.

Take a moment to soak in the beautiful simplicity of those words.

I've realized after years of constantly being consumed by what seemed to be an unbearable thorn in my side, the answer to all questions, the complete culmination of all of my passing thoughts.

I don't know.

Let me explain how I came here.

A long time ago, I had a thought.

"Why not do everything logically? Is it possible to do everything logically?"

The answer? I don't know. Well, sort of. I don't know everything is closer to the truth.

I think I hate my way of living, because I tried to embody that thought, and instead of being as helpful as I thought it would be, it just made me anti-social and completely apathetic toward most subjects.

I'm not saying that I'm definite.

No human being can be trusted or relied upon for any reason or purpose. It's just a fact.

Maybe tomorrow I could wake up, read this, then realize what an absolute schizo I sound like.

Well, I do that anyways, ever since I started writing mini entries 30 minutes at a time every odd day or so.

I'm getting off topic, then again, there wasn't really a topic to begin with.

I think what I just made was a perfect summary of why thinking logically doesn't work.

In every single one of these segments, I've tried to introduce a topic, explain it, and conclude it.

Despite doing this for every segment, it's completely fragmented, and makes no sense.

I mentioned this earlier, but now it's lost in the word spaghetti.

People cannot be relied upon.

If you put a man on the earth, gave him immortality, and then waited an infinite amount of years, then at some point, he's going to break. His sanity, his mental fortitude, all of it. It's going to collapse like a house of cards, or maybe more like a lego set? Yeah, that's more accurate.

A child smashing a lego set as hard as they can into the floor. Shattering and fragmenting.

People just aren't made to be logical.

If you make a machine and wait an infinite amount of time, then nothing will change about it.

It's just how free will works. We contradict ourselves in every way possible, so it's quite difficult to come up with a system to govern ourselves, since at the end of the day, I don't think we're equipped to.

Did I get the main point? I hope so.

In any case, I hate this way of living.

Let me explain my firsthand experiences, despite quite literally nobody caring.

A couple of years ago, I put together a friend group. It was full of people I had just met, and they ended up splitting recently, but it was nice while it lasted.

In any case, I realized something.

This year, the one before, and the one before that, I've slowly become more and more governed by this logical point of view. I've started holding my tongue, not telling anyone anything unless they ABSOLUTELY needed to hear it.

In fact, when all my koi fish died, I didn't tell anyone because, in my words "why would I tell someone something that made me sad? That's stupid."

I noticed a connection.

As I mentioned, I've been growing introverted, and as well as this, I've been applying logic so much in my everyday life that it's habitual. It's almost my first response now.

But, it keeps me from doing things that younger me would've otherwise jumped directly into without thinking at all.

There's no words I can use to describe anything that I'm feeling. Why attempt? If it leads to failure, then simply address it.

I won't embarrass myself by drowning in my own despair if it came by means of my own hand. Then again, it's all in my head, and if it's all in my head, then maybe there's nothing wrong?

Apathy is the killer of everything.

I've had days where depression had overtaken me so severely that I didn't leave bed at all.

I would cry into my pillow, pitifully lying in shame of my lack of productivity of understanding. I claimed things that weren't even true so I could have the pleasure of being a disappointment.

Even after affirming myself in understanding and in productivity, I still feel just as miserable, and yet, just as satisfied.

Nothing really changed.

Not the years that I spent applying logic, but the emotions. They never change.

I remember my father told me not to use words I didn't understand, and so, I did anyways. I would apply the wrong words in the right places.

But, after awhile, I got the hang of it.

But even after I had learned, he still insisted at random that I was using them wrong.

Why?

In the past, never once before I had a mind of my own I had ever done something that I thought would make me seem strong, intelligent, charming, or popular.

So why then, would he assume that me speaking the way that I do was some way of trying to impress him?

Oh, I've been using lots of fancy wording. I'm gonna stop that starting now.

Long story short, I hate this.

What's "this" you say?

I don't know.

My head is a big jumbled mess of memories and thoughts. I can't seem to actually remember a single thing, but I can make vague connections sometimes.

I'm not insane or anything, at least I hope I'm not.

I say that, because I'm starting to feel that the more I express myself, the more I feel I'm spewing the occasional nonsense.

So, while I'm lying in my bed, occasionally glancing at the part of my carpet to check if it's aligned properly with the floor layout, I can feel this itch.

It's an itch I've built up over years, and it's in my head.

It chimes in every now and again, and it reminds me.

"Why are you doing this? What point is there?"

"You'd be putting in a lot of effort for no real reason. There's no guaranteed returns."

"I'm not NOT talking because I can't, it's just because I don't want to. So, I don't have to, I'm not obligated."

But, old me?

Old me would've said something along the lines of:

"I don't need to... but it would make it easier to talk to people in the future if I ever need to."

HOLY SHIT.

Sorry, I just realized that in writing this entire goddamn tome, I accidentally came to a conclusion to my own problem.

I don't need to talk to people, but the motivation I can give myself is that it's good practice to brush up on.

I mean, a big part of the problem isn't solved, but I guess I don't have to worry about my social dilemma anyways.

Almost every part of my body is screaming at me to just copy and paste this into my notes instead of posting this online.

But I think it would be pretty funny to spite myself, so who cares?

Final note: ALIENS ARE AMONGST US IN DISGUISE AS US!!!!

[bipolarman2022]

The name "Hamza" has an Arabic origin and is quite common in Arabic-speaking countries and among Muslim communities. The meaning of the name "Hamza" is traditionally associated with characteristics such as "lion", "strength", or "bravery".

In the Islamic context, "Hamza" is an especially significant name because it was the name of Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib, an uncle of the Prophet Muhammad and one of the earliest and bravest defenders of Islam. Hamza ibn Abdul-Muttalib is remembered for his bravery and fortitude in battles and is considered a martyr in Islamic tradition, which adds an additional level of respect and admiration to the name.

In addition to its historical meaning and connotation, the name "Hamza" is also appreciated for its sonority and simplicity, making it popular in various cultures and countries beyond the Arab world.

[luckycheesefoodie321]

NOT DADCHI MAKING THE JOHZENJI GUY THINK OF HIS OLD CAPTAIN

The way he wasn’t in favour of their school’s banner bc it seemed lame and was thinking Daichi’s way of playing was skilled but uninteresting.

Then in comes Dadchi to save the day from the reckless volleyball idiots with his solid skills, PROVING that simplicity and fortitude IS cool and so so important in volleyball.

You can’t go all out if you don’t have trustworthy teammates to back you up when you fail.

And Dadchi is there to do exactly that (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

Also I know Daichi gets hurt at some point in this arc (unless it’s during the Shiratorizawa match) and I just hate that they’re emphasising how important Dadchi as captain and their strong foundation is right now only to have him be taken out!!

But also it means we get to see future captain Ennoshitapapa on the stage!!

[madaramee]

@rangikuxmatsumoto:

The morning had been uneventful, quiet – with only a few reports and forms needing her signature and no meetings to speak of – so her venturing away from her desk wouldn’t set off any alarm bells, nor hinder any plans. Her walking wasn’t aimless however, the streets were calm as the few souls she passed walked along at a leisurely pace. Arriving at her destination, she found his dojo in a state of peaceful serenity – if he wasn’t training recruits, or practicing himself, it meant he was taking part in only one other action – meditation. The door slid silently open as she discarded her scandals at the threshold. Socked feet barely made a sound as she crossed the matted floor before sinking down behind him, arms encircling his waist as her chin came to rest gently upon his shoulder. She sensed her presence had been noted by the slight tensing of his body at her touch, followed immediately by a relaxing ease. “—Morning…” Her voice was tender, barely above that of a whisper, not intending to disturb him more than she already had – initially.

Breathe in... Then out. No noises around, the dojo as still as could be. It was still early morning (relatively anyway) and with the majority of the squad still unavailable (each in their own reasoning), he had some time to himself. Despite the working day having already started, Ikkaku was well aware that his Captain would very much forgive him if he neglected to do his paperwork, granted it was for the sake of fun and fighting. Now, meditation isn't exactly what you'd call fun. But it was most definitely preparation for battle. A warrior's greatest strength is their mental fortitude - as is their greatest weakness. While he was a Lucky man, one graced with the simplicity in battle, he also had to keep a clear head if he was to engage with a foe that would ultimately, prove too powerful for him to face. That, he learned firsthand on an unfortunate critical moment.

The only sounds passing by his ears were of his breaths, in and out; fully immersing in the feeling of his chest expanding, then shrinking again with his lungs' movement. Simply being there, present, still. At ease. That is all that is required. While usually he would immerse himself in combat, or reliving some battle of the past; today, he had elected to remain unmoving and undeterred instead. Birds chirping heard through the gaps in the dojo window... The faint footsteps of those treading by the dojo wooden floor with their socks, skidding faintly over the polished floor. Those were the occasional interferences he'd took note of, only to resume his stance calmly.

What he'd figured would happen sooner or later, came to pass: he was snapped out of his personal moment. While it is arguable whether or not he truly considered this serene personal time to be his own if he anticipated someone coming to get him out of it, he was nonetheless genuine in his reaction. Knowing it will happen, just not when. The draping of those slender arms around his front, his breathing's rhythm was moved as a jolt ran in his body.

Fully taking in every motion she'd grant; the touch through his trapezius, sliding down. It was her forearms at first, though the wrist would join soon as her embrace reached his upper chest; feeling the light shift in weight from behind as his back was softly grazed as well. Further down, her hands interlocking over the lower joining of his chest -- hovering above his sternum, her pinky nail making light touch as her weight came to further lean on him, her face resting atop his shoulder.

A smile rising over his features. A long sigh accompanying as he took his sweet time before starting to open his eyes again. Being at ease, used to her touch and the frame by now but cherishing it ever, even now. "Morning." He replied, the tint of joy evident in his lowered tone despite the prickliness of being interrupted.

Ikkaku had honestly assumed whoever would snap him back would be either Yumichika, or one of the squad members who'd come early to take an early strike at him. He was struck, yes, though not very conventionally.

Opening his eyes, easing his posture almost completely as he gave in; reaching for her farther cheek with a hand to caress the side, by the ear. "Don't really see you out of bed these hours."

[enkisstories]

According to the sims' satisfaction scores, at the beginning of Round 5 Captain Phasma defects to the Resistance.

Phasma: "So now that you've seen the morons I work with in action, would you be surprised to hear me ask you to join your team, Admiral Holdo?"

Finn: "NOBODY who knows you would be surprised at that, Captain. And everyone here knows your "secret". I told them."

Corra: "What secret, please?"

Right, Finn realized, not really "everyone". Corra had been with the First Order up until a week ago. And although she hadn't been a conscript, but a volunteer, the young pilot's fortitude and handweapons training had gotten overseen by Phasma. Corra very much had bought into the instructor's image as an exemplar of the virtues of the First Order.

There was no way to soften the blow.

Finn: "I'm sorry, Corra. But truth is, Phasma will always prioritize survival. Over anything. She has seen that our camp is better organized than her own group's of castaways and wants to take advantage of that."

And that wouldn't even be a problem, except that the instructor had drilled into the recruits that only the First Order mattered. Not themselves, not their comrades, just the system, the only system that guaranteed stability for the galaxy. It therefore was worth protecting with one's very life.

After learning that the instructor whom all First Order youths had hero-worshipped didn't live by the words she preached, Corra was heartbroken and Phasma now harbored an even worse grudge for Finn.

Holdo: "There's a lot that could be said now, recruit Phasma, but for simplicity's sake let's go with this: The chicken coop is in need of cleaning."

Phasma: "...on it."

[utilitycaster]

I’d been wondering if you were going to listen to the Behind the Screens episode! As someone who was likewise put off by people’s “promotion” of that system, I appreciated hearing about it from trusted actual-players who were new to the mechanics as well.

That said, was there a specific mechanic that you didn’t gel with based on the podcast? Or is it just that the episode didn’t do enough to get you past the vibes you were already picking up from the game?

Sure! There were a few things that I'll cover below as specifics, but I think the biggest takeaway overall I have, as D&D player and a DM, is that it feels like D&D places the largest burden on the DM, and Pathfinder places it far more on the players. Which isn't good or bad, but I think, especially in terms of accessibility, placing the burden of crunch onto the person who says "yes, I like the crunch" instead of on your friend who wants to pretend to be Aragorn for a couple hours a week, makes far more sense. Murph actually says in the episode that 5e was optimized for simplicity, and PF2e for consistency, and I think he's right, and I happen to strongly prefer simplicity in this context.

I also say this as a crunchy person, but you know the D20 bit where Ross Bryant talks about TTRPGs and is like "Come to a world of fantasy...after you fill out your taxes"? The complexity of character creation comes with benefits and drawbacks. The way I described it to someone else is that in my first job, my role involved liaising between our software developers and our end users, and sometimes, software developers were like "this is so intuitive!" and the end users were like "what the hell is this." Pathfinder feels like game designers made the game they wanted to play, and that is great...if you are a game designer. Many people are not. Honestly, that's the biggest takeaway, actually. Pathfinder feels like it was made by game designers or software programmers or some other group of people who are very smart experts in something and don't necessarily know how to like, engage with the layperson in a meaningful way. (I also suspect this is why the fan community is afflicted with similar conditions.)

Specific things I wasn't a fan of:

The three-action economy sounds...ok in theory, but my hunch is it gets rough in practice. Like, it's great you have more room to allow failure of one action on a turn without everything failing, but have you ever been playing D&D and someone takes forever to decide what to do? multiply that by 3. I get wanting to foster creativity and cool moves, but it feels oddly mandated, and you are actively punished for just wanting to hit it three times, which is the main joy of having a sword. Also I checked out the SRD for more information and not only is this a LOT to learn, the mere act of concentrating on a spell takes two actions. Which brings me to the next part:

Emily Axford, who I trust on mechanics, and who was doing a very good job to be as positive and welcoming with a system she does not know as she could, was like "seems like it's not great for casters", and well, yeah. I get where they're coming from, because it is true that at L20 in D&D, a cleric can make god grant boons and a fighter can hit dragon with sword 4-5 times, sometimes 8-9 times. However, you do become a wizard because you want to see through reality, and you become a fighter because you want to swing a sword a lot. Anyway, point being, as a caster main, this is not appealing to me.

I never really got mad that a nat 20 dex save on fireball means you still take half damage, so the critical success/critical fail on saves is like. It's fine. I don't really feel strongly about it, but it doesn't feel like a cool selling point to me either. It's also like...if you really love this, it's very easy to throw into your home D&D game without having to take the rest of Pathfinder along with it.

This is a weird one but I feel like the reflex/fortitude/will save concept is SO CLOSE to being great but falls short. I agree that the three uncommon stat saves (strength, charisma, intelligence) are, well, rarely used and kind of vague. However, in practice, I also find this means many people tend to be super precious with dex and wisdom and won't dump them, even if it makes sense not to have good dex or wisdom, and this also means that charisma casters or strength-based fighters can feel stretched thinner than they genuinely are, stat-wise. It feels like a great way to balance this and trim the fat would be to, perhaps, allow your highest mental stat to be your will save stat, regardless of what it is, or permit strength or charisma to sub for con in some fortitude checks. However, Pathfinder eliminates strength, charisma, and int saves entirely, which unbalances this even further, and like, fuck that.

There were probably more but like, in general, I understand that Pathfinder absolutely has an audience and its fans, but it's just...even when presented by someone who I know isn't being a condescending asshole, who is also coming from D&D, and whom I like, I was just like. This is definitely for some people, and I am not one of them.

[fallencomrade]

𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙻   //     T̷ R̷ A̷ N̷ S̷ M̷ I̷ T̷ T̷ I̷ N̷ G̷ … 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚇𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂  //   [ SOURCE ] 𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙳 :   A. STARR    ↦    @etherealstarr

𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑭𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑯 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑻 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑵 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑬. she tries to keep her own emotions contained - the anger, the disbelief, the pain - but just like her broken image, the inner turmoil bleeds through in her voice. the way it cracks, fractured - just like the rest of her. he does not take back his words nor does he regret sharing them - but he cannot exactly blame her either for throwing the notions back at him, incredulous and cross. it is eerie, the likeness between them ;; the number of similarities their stories share. yet, in the same breath, they are also so incredibly different.

A STATE OF CHAOS. so many witnessed the winter soldier in action and were convinced he existed and thrived in that plane of disarray, but the exact opposite was actually closer to validity. the soldier required ORDER, proven certainty. a creature of habit, he was lulled by the familiarity, simplicity and ease of deployments, the unwavering consistency of his skills, the tested fortitude of his own body, the elimination of thought, choice, or consideration. all things moved according to hydra's grand plan. surprises, unanticipated threats, failed missions, escaped targets, doubt, questions, fear - it all jeopardized the fulfillment of the mission and for the asset, the only thing that ever mattered was completing the mission. regulation, discipline, consistency - with these things, objectives could be achieved more quickly. he preformed best in a state of CONTROL - even if that sense of control was a lie. even when chaos erupted all around him, as long as it was controlled chaos - controlled and incited by himself, by hydra - it was acceptable.

so alike, but so different ... watching the phantasm before him, the hardened soldier realizes he is staring into the abyss of true chaos - and it is a realm marked by horror, anguish and throttling fear. she is driven by that fear, by the pain of the unknown, made to do terrible things in order to survive. cruel fate forced her to desperation. he was first a soldier and then a prisoner of war and then a war criminal, also forced to do questionable things in order to survive ;; in order to protect the ones he loved ;; in order to do ( what he was told ) was the right thing ... nothing is truly that black or white, good or evil, moral or immoral. see enough, live through enough and you will eventually learn this unfortunate truth.

she flickers in and out, a dozen emotions flashing before his eyes - but that which is the loudest ? pain. agony. despair. HE IS WATCHING A CATASTROPHE UNFOLD. stunning, horrifying to behold - but he cannot pull his eyes away. contrary to popular belief, he is not a monster. in fact, bucky barnes has always had a soft spot for broken things, so while his expression remains guarded and composed, his voice is surprisingly soft, kind.

❛  how can i help you ? ❜

[reelvibes91]

The Last of Us "Left Behind"

With only a handful of episodes left in the first season, The Last of Us decided to give us a glimpse into Ellies past. 

We start off with Ellie at the Fedra QZ, and she is training with other girls her own age. She gets into an altercation, with one of them sending her to receive 15 stitches. Later that night, her former roomie Riley breaks in and promises Ellie the most exciting night of her life.

This episode features Storm Reid as Riley and fully allows Bella Ramsey to show us her full range. Their moments of hanging out and trying to enjoy each others company were accompanied by intense dialogue about abandonment and the future. While it was slower paced than most of the season until this point, it really showed us why Ellie is the way she is and how alone she truly feels. 

It provides context to the earlier scenes where we see Ellie had been bitten and survived. In heartbreaking fashion, we learn Ellie and Riley had planned to just ride out whatever time they had left together before the infection took over. The implications of what came next by creative design we don't see are very sad to imagine. 

It is the beauty in the simplicity that keeps The Last of Us on top every week. The story is easy to follow. It keeps the pace moving, and it allows you to feel the highs and lows as these characters experience them. Right now, as we are being primed to see Ellie try and survive on her own while Joel recovers, this episode came at the perfect time. It shows her resiliency, her mental fortitude, and why she didn't want Joel to leave her a few weeks back.

This season has delivered in every way I had hoped and more. It may end up being my favorite scripted show of 2023. It is that damn good and I expect the final two episodes will be just as amazing and full of adventure.