#superstitions don’t actually do anything. and yet!!!

[tacobacoyeet]

lollipop | tashi duncan x patrick zweig x art donaldson x reader

warnings: SMUT 18+, porn with very minimal plot

The bass is sticky-sweet and sinful, the kind that slides down your spine and coils low in your stomach. Lights strobe like they’re trying to catch secrets midair, but none of them land on you—yet.

You’re leaning against the bar, mouth wrapped around a cherry lollipop and eyes scanning the crowd like you’re on the hunt. But you already know exactly who you’re waiting for.

You haven’t seen them in months. Not since New Rochelle. Not since you told them to lose your number, and Patrick laughed like it was a challenge. Since Art told you, with terrifying calm, that you’d come crawling back. Since Tashi just kissed your jaw, eyes unreadable, and walked away.

You hadn’t planned on seeing them tonight. You’d heard they were in town for the tournament, sure, but you weren’t stalking their schedules anymore. You’d come out with friends. You’d worn this dress for yourself. The lollipop had been a joke. A dare. Something stupid.

Except it wasn’t a joke. Not really. Everyone who knew you knew the lollipop meant something.

You used to walk onto the court with one in your mouth. Superstition, maybe. Distraction tactic. Or maybe it was just habit—your particular brand of psychological warfare. Patrick used to call it bait. Tashi called it smart. Art never called it anything. He just stared.

And now they’re all here.

Art sees you first.

He stops walking mid-stride, mid-laugh. His mouth still shaped around something clever, but no sound comes out. Tashi clocks the shift instantly, turning her head and following his gaze. Her eyes narrow.

Patrick, as always, takes the longest. But when he sees you, his mouth splits into a grin that’s all teeth and no kindness.

You raise the lollipop to your lips and bite down hard enough to crack it.

They cross the club like gravity. The crowd parts. You should leave. You don’t.

“You’re really here,” Patrick says, breath warm near your temple. “Cute dress.”

You twirl the lollipop between your fingers, not looking at him. “I wore it for someone better.”

“Yeah?” Tashi’s voice is close, cool, a whisper by your ear. “How’s that working out for you?”

You turn, smile too-sweet. “Pretty well, actually. Until now.”

Art doesn't speak. He just watches you like he’s memorizing something he plans to wreck.

Patrick leans against the bar beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. “Still sucking on candy like a baby?”

You roll the stick over your tongue, slow and deliberate. “You're just mad I'm not sucking your dick anymore.”

“Not mad,” he murmurs. “Only a matter of time.”

Tashi’s hand slides to your hip. Her grip is possessive. Familiar. “We should talk,” she says, but she’s already pulling you toward the VIP section, not waiting for permission.

Art finally speaks. “She doesn’t want to talk.”

Patrick snorts. “Not with words, anyway.”

You go because it’s easier than fighting. Because you want to. Because you’ve already lost.

The VIP room is low-lit and velvet-lined. Music muffled. Private.

You’re barely inside before Patrick sits, spreading his legs like he’s home. Art leans against the wall, arms folded, gaze locked on you. Tashi pulls you to the center of the room and turns you to face them.

“On your knees,” she says softly, like it’s a suggestion. Like you won’t do it unless she asks nice.

You smile, sickly sweet. “I don’t take orders.”

Art pushes off the wall. “Sure you do. Just not in public.”

You sink. Slowly. Lollipop still between your fingers, now sticky with sweat and anticipation.

Patrick unzips with a lazy smirk. “Show us what that smart mouth is really good for.”

You glance up through your lashes, tongue dragging along your lower lip as you stroke him once, slow and warm, before you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock.

The lollipop clatters to the floor.

Patrick groans. “Fuck, I forgot how good you are at this.”

You hum around him, smug, spit already slipping down your chin. He grabs your hair, not hard yet, just enough to let you know who’s in control.

Tashi kneels beside you, mouth at your ear. “No teeth. No attitude. Be useful.”

You glance at her, eyes glassy, and she kisses your cheek like she means it.

Art unbuckles his belt with one hand. The sound is enough to make you clench around nothing.

“You’ll take all of us,” he says. “You love your lollipops, don't you, baby? We’ll see how sweet it tastes with three different flavors in your throat.”

And then there’s no more pretending.

Patrick thrusts shallow and slow, easing his cock past your lips, but it doesn’t stay gentle for long. His grip tightens in your hair, guiding your head, dragging moans out of his throat with every wet, messy stroke.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “You wanted attention? Fucking take it.”

Tashi’s nails dig into your scalp as she holds you still. Her other hand slips down, trailing under your jaw. “Messy little thing,” she murmurs. “You look better like this.”

You choke when Patrick pushes deeper. Your eyes water. Spit drips down your chin, onto your chest, and you don’t care.

Art is behind you now. You hadn’t even noticed him move. His hand slides down the back of your neck, soothing for a second—before he pushes your head farther down Patrick’s length.

“She can take it,” he mutters. “She’s done worse with less incentive.”

Patrick grunts. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Tashi pulls you off his cock with a pop just before he comes. You gasp for air, blinking through tears.

“Not yet,” she tells him, then turns to you. “Open.”

She climbs onto the couch beside Patrick and leans back, spreading her thighs. Her underwear is already discarded. You don’t remember when she slipped them off.

She smells like heat and sweat and control. You lower your mouth between her legs, tongue dragging through her slick folds, and she sighs like she’s been waiting for this since the moment she saw you tonight.

You lap at her slowly at first, just the tip of your tongue, teasing over her clit until she grabs the back of your head and rolls her hips into your face with zero patience.

Her moans are sharp and indulgent. One hand in your hair, the other pinching her nipple beneath the fabric of her shirt. She rides your tongue, thighs clamped around your ears, telling you exactly how she wants it.

"Faster. Right there. Don’t you fucking stop."

Your tongue aches. Your jaw burns. You flick and circle and suck until she gasps, trembling, thighs shaking as she clamps down, grinding into your mouth with a low, shuddering whine.

She comes like it hurts, like she’s been holding it in for far too long. And she keeps you buried between her legs until the aftershocks fade.

When she finally lets you go, you’re breathless, chin glistening, and Patrick is already grabbing you by the jaw.

“You ready now?” he rasps.

You nod, lips red and swollen.

He fucks your mouth without mercy this time, fast and brutal, his cock slamming against the back of your throat as he growls, “Don’t waste a drop.”

You swallow every bit of it.

Art is the last.

He pulls you into his lap on the floor, tilting your head up. His hand strokes your cheek—almost gentle.

“You think you’re still in charge?” he whispers, brushing your hair back from your face like he doesn’t want to see a single thing in the way.

You nod, breath catching. Barely.

He smiles. “Then prove it. Make me come without using your hands.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t guide. Just waits, watching.

You sink onto him slowly, tasting salt and heat, letting your lips wrap around the flushed head of his cock. He exhales like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.

You go slow. Excruciatingly slow. Hollow your cheeks. Twist your tongue on the upstroke. Let him feel every second of your mouth, every flutter of your throat.

“Jesus,” he murmurs. His head tilts back, hips twitching upward as you swallow him halfway, then deeper.

You look up at him as he starts to lose control—his mouth parted, chest rising fast, hands gripping your hips like he’s fighting the urge to fuck up into your throat.

“Keep going,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Don’t fucking stop.”

You don’t. You push until your nose brushes the soft skin at the base of him, until his breath catches in his throat and he chokes out your name.

He comes with a groan, hand tight in your hair, cock twitching as you milk every drop from him. You swallow because you want to. Because he told you not to use your hands, and you want him to know you listened.

When he finally lets go, you slump against his thigh, dazed, used, lips slick and trembling.

Tashi crouches down and lifts your chin. “That’s better,” she says, like it’s a reward.

Patrick chuckles. “Told you it was only a matter of time.”

You close your eyes.

Sticky. Breathless. Satisfied.

And craving another taste.

-----

tagging: @kimmyneutron @babyspiderling @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy @awaywithtime @artstennisracket @artdonaldsonbabygirl @blastzachilles @jordiemeow

[theplatypusblue]

Concept sketches of this oc?? That I’m making??? I’ve never actually made an oc before please looks at her she’s a nine-tailed fox teehee

Also notes under the read more

Ok ok so I’ve had something adjacent to this bumping around in my brain for a while and figured I’d finally put it all somewhere. Yee

So like, the fsm is a young adult? Older teenager here I guess? Way after Wojira’s defeat but also way before Wu and Garm enter the picture

This is more of my headcanon than anything else, but I think when he was younger he was a lot more optimistic and like. Bright I guess. Not like sunshine and rainbows (he’s kind of emotionally scarred due to Everything) but he’s got that youthfulness/naivety to him yknow?

So basically ninjago is having a period of relative peace, and he decides he wants to try exploring more of the other realms, and he’s all enthusiastic and stuff

He goes through a couple realms before landing in the never realm, where he meets our fox lady

(I don’t know fox lady’s name yet 👍 sorry)

So anyway he meets her and they end up spending a lot of time together. Like he spends an extended period of time in the never realm because of her and they like fall in love or whateverrrrrrr

She teaches him a lot of stuff abt the never realm and stuff and he gives her love + friendship + stuff cuz she’s very lonely

Speaking of: she’s got a similar deal to Akita going on w/ regards to which animal she shapeshifts to. I always thought it was a little strange how all the other formlings turned into seemingly regular animals while Akita got a more mythical form, so I thought transformations like hers must be quite rare. So basically, I’m thinking there were some superstitions surrounding forms like Akita’s back in ~ye olden times~ (that are obviously no longer in force by the time of the show)

(Side note: at this point I’m not sure if it would be better for fox lady to have familial/ancestral connection to Akita or if I just wanna keep their similarities as some freaky coincidence lol)

And yeah fox lady got kinda isolated from her peers and eventually decides to leave and live alone in the woods or smthn. and there’s a bunch of rumors abt her being a witch + doing weird supernatural shit. Unclear whether those rumors are true tho…

She’s typically a very lighthearted person despite everything tho. When she’s not chilling out and enjoying nature n stuff, she loves pulling pranks and generally being a dick. She’s probably killed someone at some point(?) She’s funnyyy it’s funnyyyyyyyy

Point is: she’s a corrupting force for our more strait-laced/repressed fsm.

Getting back to the plot I guess: eventually their relationship falls apart—the fsm wants to go back home, but fox lady doesn’t want him to. She begs him to stay “just one more night,” and he obliges, only for her to keep begging the next day, and the next day. It gets to the point where she emotionally manipulates him a lot, like, “dont you remember how lonely you were before you met me? Think of all the responsibilities you’ll have to deal with when you get back. You’ve been gone for so many years, ninjago has either fallen or it’s found a way to exist without you, they don’t need you anyway,” that kind of thing. They’ve confided in each other a lot at this point, and she knows the fsm is an intensely lonely person, a fact which she uses to her advantage

At some point she steals the realm crystal from him, which is bad cuz that’s like his only way home (I’m like, assuming he used the realm crystal to get here and not the tea lol)

And then he fights her to get it back, and after he does that he goes straight home, never to return. Cuz it’s called the never realm whoaaaaaa

And then he’s all sad and bitter about this entire series of events for the rest of his life (he liked her!! Loved her!!! But everything ended up sucking anyway auuaghhuuhg) and that’s why he was Like That when he got older

After he leaves, fox lady just retires into her little house in the woods, also sad and bitter abt everything. Maybe she really is a witch, and she placed a curse on his bloodline and that’s why everything sucks by the time of the show. You never know lol

Anyway, this is all a long and tired excuse to get you to listen to this song by kikuo cuz it’s good and basically inspired the entire concept + storyline okay byeeeee

[yenqa]

the line in between

synopsis — in which it’s new year’s eve, 1999. and jay finds you on his doorstep right before midnight.

warnings — lots of mentions of dying (no one actually is but they think they’re going to + no violence), i think that’s it lmk

pairing — jay x gn!reader (i think)

wordcount — 1053

a/n — this is kind of like apple cider au + that one scene of 25/21 combined but also ignore how this is lowkey my fic “smart” in a different font erm

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You let out a nervous smile trying to convince him to let you in. Though he has no idea what you’re doing at his house on New Year's and minutes to midnight, he lets you in. Deciding to push aside the question looking at your anxious expression.

He moves aside, inviting you in. You thank him, hastily taking your shoes off and taking off your jacket. Jay notice’s the matching sweaters you’re wearing, both navy blue though yours looks much more warm than his.

You sit down on the couch, tapping on the cushion next for him to sit down. He takes the seat happily, you sit in silence, both awkwardly watching the new year’s show playing on the tv.

He decides that he’s prolonged the question enough, asking again with a slightly quieter voice, “What are you doing here?”

Chuckling, you answer. “My parents aren’t back from their vacation yet, their plane got delayed. And I got kinda scared for the new year.”

“Scared? You’ve been through it hundreds of times.”

You nod, the situation almost feels too vulnerable. As if you moved a single inch the room would crumble in pieces.

“I heard someone say the world was going to end or go into chaos, I didn’t want to be alone if it was.”

He laughs. And you crack a smile hearing yourself.

You’re not usually one to believe superstitions or conspiracy theories. But so many were freaking out for the end of the century and you can’t say you weren’t either. The silly theories had gone to your head this time, leading you to where you were five minutes earlier, knocking on Jay’s door.

“You believe that?”

Shrugging, you say, “Anything could happen.”

Jay isn’t the kind to believe in that stuff, he finds it interesting but never enough to be scared of anything. Though he finds your gullibleness funny, he finds it cute how you balance eachother out, You’re usually energetic, and he’s always calm and laid back. You like romance books, he likes thriller and horror books. Even though you’re much better at not being nervous when reading those kinds of things—except for situations like now.

To put it simply, you perfectly balance eachother out, like yin and yang. You’re the perfect pair. The perfect pair of friends.

Though you wouldn’t say you’re friends. If anything your relationship is closer to a couple than anything. He’s never mentioned it, and you were still wondering about it yourself.

Is the line between friends and lovers supposed to be harsh? Should it be clear as day in the end or should it sneak up to you before you even know it? The line seems to blur every time your hands linger near each other, or the stares from afar seem to be too frequent to be an accident.

You find it stupid how a stupid line can define your relationship. But it really does. The blurred line makes it impossible for you two to be anything. On top of the line is fear. You don’t want to lose him because you were being too quick to do anything. You don’t want to lose him because he might not be the same way if anything did happen. You just didn’t want to lose the bond you had.

He snaps you out of your thoughts, asking, “Do you want something to drink, apple? I think we have apple cider, your favorite.”

His nickname for you had been there for years. Since he first saw you chug down a cup of apple cider on the New year’s you met, when you were both ten. You’re still surprised when he pulls that nickname out for you, sometimes it’s every day, sometimes you don’t hear it for weeks.

“No it’s okay, I’m too tired to have any.”

He raises an eyebrow, “It could wake you up?”

You stop to think about it for a few seconds, I mean nothing bad could happen while he’s away right? “Fine, but only if you have some. Be quick though! I don’t want to be alone when midnight strikes.”

He salutes, rushing to his kitchen. You sit in silence, zoning out you stare at the plant right next to his tv. Snapping out of it when fans start cheering on the tv. you’re quick to look around when the thirty second timer starts ticking down.

“Jay, hurry up! You’re going to miss it and die alone!” You call, he rushed back, stomping on the floor loudly to get back to the living room.

Just in time he hands you your drink, sitting down just where he was earlier. Taking a few sips and turning to him, you smile, “You made it.”

He grins, “Of course I did.”

You turn away, watching as the timer ticks down somehow so slowly but too fast for you. Your heart starts racing and you’re not sure whether it’s for the new year or the eyes next to you staring at you with a soft smile.

The timer gets to ten and your heart starts beating out of your chest, trying to calm down you turn to Jay, asking , “Can I hold onto your arm? I’m nervous.”

Jay laughs quietly, gently pushing your head on his shoulder so you can comfortably wrap your arm around his, squeezing it gently. You watch as the numbers sum down to 5, quietly counting down the numbers just so the other can hear.

You look back up with him, letting out a breathy laugh, “Happy New Year, Jay”

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

You try to stay awake with all your might, hoping that if the night ends now you’ll at least have some last words, but your drowsiness takes over, and you’re asleep before you know it.

Jay looks down at your calm state, the squeeze you once had on his arm had been completely abandoned, leaving his arm cold and lonely. He watches as your chest rises and falls with every breath, he lets out a lovesick smile. One he would never let anyone see.

Though tonight everyone he knows and loves—including himself, might die or go into chaos just as you said. He decides he wouldn’t mind this being his last view before it all ends.

taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[utilitycaster]

RE: Ruidusborn superstition - It's weird because Matt has had several opportunities to make it about persecution and hasn't. Laura could've made it a stronger point in her backstory with Gelvaan and didn't. This rounding up Ruidusborn and throwing them in jail is a theoretical crime that a bad guy in a cult told them might happen. 

Dealing with the unfair persecution of non Vanguard Ruidusborn in the fallout of this could be interesting to explore, but a) it hasn’t happened yet and b) still entirely the fault of the Vanguard for, ya know, all the crime. I just don’t get why some folks aren’t exploring the actual interesting conflict in front of them (i.e. being tied to something inherently destructive, your parent using you as a justification for her crimes, etc.) and instead make it about some secret twist coming that will totally make Liliana and the Vanguard “correct” actually in order to (I assume?) justify Imogen’s brief consideration of them and dunk on Orym for having the audacity to not be objective about the organization that killed his family.

Hey anon,

This is a very good point re: the actual conflicts present. I know I've been guilty of going hard on Liliana and the thing is I do find her a profoundly compelling and sympathetic villain. I think she was placed in an impossible position by Predathos imbuing her with troubling and at times painful powers; that despite having good intentions with regards to the nature of Ruidus (there is a lot of value in both studying it and in concealing its nature, depending on your perspective) people other than Ludinus were unable to give her answers and so she was easy prey for his cult; and she has since been driven by these motivations so far down the road of the Ruby Vanguard that even when the daughter she has believed herself for so long to be protecting tries to give her an out and asks her why she's doing this, she can't answer but is terrified of leaving. She is very sympathetic. She is very much a villain. And yes, I'll cover Orym in a second.

The following is, by necessity due to the nature of what I want to discuss, going to touch on some real-world politics though mostly in the sense of abstract strategy with very few specific actual positions. I want to note that we are talking about a fictional work here, and while I do have some presumptions regarding the people advocating for the Vanguard, they are just that - presumptions. I will only say that if this is how the people advocating for the Vanguard engage with people in real-world activism (if they partake in that in the first place), this may be a revealing insight into why they are perhaps less than successful.

Every argument in favor of killing the gods ultimately presupposes killing the gods is correct. They are all, ultimately, either tautological (we should kill the gods because they are deserving of death) and assume that the only objective conclusion is "we should kill the gods", therefore anything other than "we should kill the gods" cannot be objective.

I may be repeating myself since I've said this a lot since the last episode but: there as a truly bone-chilling lack of empathy in thestatement that Orym needs to stop bringing up his dead family and get over it and be objective (read: agree with the premise that the gods should be killed). Actually, if you are a person capable of perceiving others as people, you will likely realize that it is cruel and absurd to expect someone to say "this group murdered my family, but because they did so with the correct motivations, I shall stop mentioning it." As you indicated, it's bizarre that Orym is expected to set the wholesale murder - deliberately set up with no hope of resurrection, just to twist the knife - aside, but Imogen is never expected to set aside the (let's face it, extremely tenuous, given that Liliana's been absent for over a quarter-century) feelings about her mother, a person who recruits child soldiers, turned Vax into an orb, and is a general in the death cult that murdered Orym's husband and father. Like, in a real-world scenario, someone in Orym's position very well might have just left over this. Your friends keep failing to consider your trauma? Perhaps it's time to, painful as it may be, find friends who will be sensitive. [I don't want to focus on the shipping or character dynamic aspects with that particularly argument against Orym, but this is a fictional work and I do think another running theme in all sorts of discourse is that you do not need to justify your ships as logical, and when you do, you really do sound like "why doesn't Ross, the largest friend, simply eat all the other friends." There are logical reasons why Orym might not want to talk with, for example, Fearne or Ashton; but also the heart wants what it wants, and again, if you aren't truly ignorant about the way human psychology works you have to acknowledge that.]

Before I move on to other items I want to note I've as of late seen attempts not just to discredit Orym but to pathologize his behavior as self-harming or moral OCD or a failure to get fully over grief (again, an expectation that is not just devoid of empathy but also sets the standard of 'get over grief' as "agrees with me") and not just "hey, this group killed my husband and father in front of me and I understandably will not budge on this particular front. So there's also a growing ableist push, here, because someone doesn't agree with you and will not agree with you and also might want to kiss someone different than whom you want them to kiss.

As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man. (More so after invoking FCG as one of the victims of Aeor's demise, rather than someone created to be used for malicious purposes by Aeor; and even more so after they destroyed themself specifically in heroic sacrifice to save the rest of the party from a Vanguard general.). But more seriously, the focus on Aeor feels reminiscent of advocacy for the unborn; or, to take a page from my own personal experiences and move this back into a fandom realm, the way people will frequently more loudly decry antisemitism for depictions of goblins than for, say, the fact that I don't know of an American synagogue that hasn't experienced a bomb threat in the past 10 years. It's very easy to advocate for corpses or fetuses over the living, or for fictional characters over real people who might be less than perfect. Much easier to ensure they never do such inconvenient things as disagree with you or have their own suggestions or be complicated. It hearkens back to some of the conversations I and others had earlier this campaign about a denial of agency because by making characters victims "stripped of choice," (always that phrasing) suddenly they can't do wrong. They make for a shit story, but at least you can feel morally pure about your flavorless cardboard that ultimately means nothing in-world or out. (And if they don't have agency, that means your morality pet can't run away. Or blow themselves up in a stunning rejection of your argument.)

Returning to the Vanguard: an ongoing discussion in activist spaces (and internet ones as well) is that there's a weird ignorance of optics as an important factor in activism. I know it seems frustrating - why can't people just see that this cause is just - but optics have always been a crucial part of any successful movement. I mean, even if you do believe that we need to do more to combat climate change - and I do - my, and most people's response to the environmental activists who keep throwing soup or paint on artwork is "ugh, this again?" I mean, functionally, while the cause is far more just, it's not terribly distinct from the weird-ass He Gets Us ad campaign; most people are going to say "and you're doing this instead of anything helpful...why?" The Vanguard's optics SUCK. Sure, they've fomented some unrest, but it is an unfortunate truth that the vast majority of people will prefer the inherent violence of a stable system that they are used to over violent unrest. For a successful coup or radical change, either you need to strike at the seat of power extremely quickly or you need to show that you are the more, for lack of a better term, civilized option, and the Vanguard has failed utterly in both these. You're going to get a few places like Hearthdell (though, really, how long will that last given that they got rid of the temple without a scrap of help from Ludinus) but you're going to get a lot of places where city dwellers say "ugh, these stupid crystals are so fucking loud, could this motherfucker shut up" and you're also going to get no shortage of places that say "my family member was taken in by this cult" or "these guys murdered my professor". The rightness or wrongness of the Vanguard's politics aside, a lot of people in-world are likely to side with Orym - these people are murderers who disturb the peace and we should stop them. The cause is lost. Is it, in some absolute sense, fair that people will judge you more for how you convey a message than what the message is? No, although if you convey it in rivers of blood, then, perhaps, yes. But it is, fair or not, often true.

Which brings me back to Orym. I think the reason people are stooping so low specifically to malign and discredit Orym is because he brings all of the above uncomfortably to light. He's aligned with Keyleth, who quite frankly until pretty recently was, within the fandom, partly as (understandable) backlash to the hate she received, and partly because she was, if nothing else, always portrayed as someone deeply attuned to the human costs, treated as a morally infallible authority; and she is no friend to the gods yet still believes their demise is far too great a risk to take. Again, thinking of yourself as Exandria's equivalent of the man on the street (Imahara Joe the Plumber?), are you going to listen to "those people killed my husband and father to prove a hypothesis so that they could tether the moon?" or "my mom, who left me when I was two years old and never came back or sent a letter, is one of those people?" And that's assuming Imogen's even going to make that argument, which, as her actions indicate, she's probably not going to. But most of all I think they really don't like that Orym isn't backing down from "That is the blade that killed my father and husband. She is not right." He's kept to this story the entire time, while the positions of others have evolved. And he's telling the truth. Every time he says this, I think anyone who isn't actually a complete black hole of empathy must confront how much of their humanity they are supressing just to make a poorly-argued point about a D&D show and I'd imagine that can't make one feel very good.

I think people are terrified of Orym's conviction, because he has shown, time and time again, that he is not going to be swayed. I don't think, in fact, that he's going to be swayed by seeing Aeor, should that happen, since Aeor was destroyed a thousand years before he, Will, or Derrig were born, and their murders failed to undo that harm in any way. A really good way to turn people away from your cause, even if it's a good one, is killing those they love. And again, it's fine if you see that position as unfair, or ignorant, or even amoral. It's also extremely true. And I think people realize it's true, given that the only defenses I've seen for Liliana have been "well, but she's Imogen's mother" and "well, it's shockingly easy for people to fall into a cult, because this has happened to my family members." Clearly, we agree that people will place personal connections and the pain of those close to them over ideology. Orym's is just really inconvenient for some people, and so he must be discredited.

In the end: the people in the story who at every turn choose manipulation, indoctrination, violence, subjugation, and conquest are saying "This is the way; you just have to trust me." Is it any surprise most people watching the show are saying "No, I don't think I will"?

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Ghosts

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )    

Human: *Walks into room* I think we need to move. Alien: We just moved in, why do we need to move? Human: I am 95% sure this place is haunted. Alien: What does that mean? Human: It means there’s something else in this home alongside us. Alien: Now I’m pissed. Human: Because we’re being haunted? Alien: No. Alien: Because they’re not helping with the mortgage. --------------

*Lights flicker on and off randomly* Human: This is getting scary. Alien: Really? Alien: Poor electrical wiring is scary? Alien: *Flips off lights and lights candles* Alien: Use these instead. Human: *Reaches out for lit candle when light is suddenly blown out* Alien: Okay, now I’m getting upset. -----------

Human: *Steps out of shower and wipes mist off mirror* *Horrible reflection looks back at him* Human: Hey sweetie get in here! Alien: *Walks in and sees horrible reflection* Human: What do you say about that?!?! Alien: *Causally leaves room and returns with hammer* *Smashes mirror into tiny pieces* Alien: You need more conditioner. ---------------

Human: *Walks into dining* *Sees furniture stacked in a pyramid formation* Human: *Looks up to see Alien partner sitting on top of it all sipping morning tea and reading paper* Human: How are you so okay with all of this? Alien: You know I don’t believe in your wild superstitions. *Suddenly chair floats above alien and slams against the back of their head, shattering into a million pieces and sending the alien tumbling to the floor* Human: How about now? Alien: I am *coughs up blood* starting to have my suspicions. --------------

*Doors open and exorcist walks in* Exorcist: You were wise to call me; I can sense the evil of this house already. Alien: Bit early to judge. Exorcist: My church has taught me well of such sensations. Alien: I bet it did. Exorcist: Pardon me? Alien: Does “Ratlines” mean anything to you? Exorcist: *Coughs into hand* Human: *Turns to Alien* I’ve seen you struggle to open a car door and yet somehow you are well versed in world war two histories. --------------------

Exorcist: *Walks around house* Exorcist: Where is the evil centered? Human: Basement. Exorcist: Then let’s go down there. Alien: We don’t go into the basement. Exorcist: Why? Human: They don’t like it when we go down there. Exorcist: *Holds up symbol of faith* have faith my child, for our lord shall protect us. Alien: I don’t have a lord so I doubt they’ll protect me. Human: Yeah, and I’m an atheist so- Exorcist: Wait, you’re an atheist? Human: Yeah, why? Exorcist: *Packs up things and leave* Good luck with your ghosts you heathen fuckers. *As they’re walking away another floating chair comes up behind them and smashes it against their head, sending them to the grassy lawn* Human: I’m not even mad at that one. -----------------------

*Several humans walk in* Lead human: We’re the ghost hunters and we’re here to help. Alien: Question. Lead Human: Shoot. Alien: How many ghosts have you actually slain? Lead Human: We don’t actually kill ghosts. Alien: Then why are you hunters? -----------------------

*After several cameras installed and night falls* Lead Human: If there is a spirit amongst us, we wish to speak with you. *House groans* Lead Human: Give us a sign if you are here. *Vase goes flying off the wall and hits them in the head* Alien: *Watching from van outside* Should have been more specific. --------------------------

Lead human: Why didn’t you tell me it threw things? Alien: We have been telling you this entire time. Lead Human: You said it only used chairs. Human: Chairs are just vases for humans. Alien: That’s a debate for another time.

[imagineitdearies]

~ A Flawed Eternity ~

(AKA drabbles set in the Perfect Slaughter universe. 🩵 Special thanks to @themoonatmingitaw for the ko-fi request! 🩵)

In which Astarion and Tyrus use the hot springs.

~

“I don’t trust the druid,” Astarion declared two weeks after the alliance had been struck.

They were attempting to rest again following one of Tyrus’s tranced memories-turned-panics. He frowned down at Astarion now, hand pausing in the midst of playing with those silvery curls. “What’s happened?”

“Oh nothing—yet. But all his blathering on about that forest spirit child, waylaying our mission with superstition . . . more distressing, I couldn’t see past his gigantic hairy arse during that surprise attack,” Astarion grumbled.

Tyrus relaxed a bit. “You don’t like him,” he translated.

“I like his dedication to your sister—those arms are nice to look at on occasion—but outside that?” Astarion huffed. “His prying ‘helpfulness’ certainly wears on the nerves.”

Tyrus sat up a bit, nodding at the nearby spring. “Would a soak help calm them?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes up at him. “Have you tranced a full four hours yet?”

“. . . maybe this could help me trance easier, too,” Tyrus shrugged in lieu of an answer.

“Give you a handful more memories to choose from, at least,” Astarion sighed.

They both still struggled to rest, Tyrus especially. It felt worse falling into a terrible memory these days—like his freedom was being stolen over and over again.

Quiet moments like these felt much more restful.

Later, while leaning back against Tyrus’s chest in the bubbling little pool, Astarion murmured, “Halsin gave me a pat on the back, after we flank-killed the last cultist. And, well, you know—of course I reacted a bit,” he said with an annoyed sniff. “But he couldn’t just leave it alone after. Had to apologize over and over; even approached me today and offered himself if I needed a ‘neutral outsider to talk to about anything.’”

Tyrus contemplated this for a moment. “Might that not be . . . potentially beneficial?”

Astarion sat up from his recline to turn and face him. “What I need is to be strong right now, love,” he said, reaching to cup Tyrus’s cheek with his brows pulled low over his eyes. “I need to keep you safe. I need to stay on high alert, not wallow in pains best left forgotten.”

Can they be forgotten? Tyrus almost asked.

Pain and fear seemed like the only things his mind cared to hold onto, whether vivid or deeply rooted in his subconscious.

But an hour later, after they’d dried off and redressed, the soak seemed to have done its work—Astarion’s irritation melting away into something a bit more vulnerable.

“I . . . well, I told him I’d think about it, actually,” he spoke in a very small, hesitant voice after he’d pulled Tyrus in.

Tyrus offered a small smile up at Astarion and then tucked his head into his partner’s chest.

“I hope you do,” he whispered back.

[cleolinda]

Silent Hill 2 commentary: Opening & Eastern South Vale (3)

Notes below start at 43:26.

PREVIOUSLY ON: We get to the cemetery, meet Angela, pick up New Game+ items, and squint at a church door.

Check the first post for full spoiler policy ("anything but the big reveal") and content notes. I'll put content notes specific to this post under the cut.

Content warnings: Blood and body horror in the combat, with a discussion of the enemy design. Discussion of suicidal ideation as a theme. Discussion of verbal abuse, slight allusion to child abuse.

43:26: A(nother) billboard for Pete’s Bowl-o-Rama, a fan-favorite location. I’ll take us there once we’ve met up with Maria. 

43:40: The auto shop, which serves as a tutorial for basic concepts. 

44:55: I look for a legible calendar, wondering what year Silent Hill “stopped being a town.” We do actually see 1982 and 1983 later on, but it may also be that Silent Hill is a thriving town in another dimension, and maybe people who come to Silent Hill for psychological reasons are in ghost-town dreamworlds. I think that Silent Hill 2 doesn’t give you “answers”; it gives you the tools to build your own interpretations. 

45:40: Our first Glimpse of the Past, Bloober Team’s effort to put in homages (I mangle two different pronunciations of this word together in my nervousness. I was a French/Spanish double major and I'll never recover from this) to what they’ve changed or removed from the original game. This one is the original location where you find the radio, your first monster, and your first weapon. Here's a Dan Allen Gaming video comparing the Glimpses to the scenes they’re referencing, so you can see that. 

All images are ©2024 Konami Digital Entertainment, and captured from my gameplay in January-February 2025.

47:30: Here’s the car where you get the Key of Sorrow for the “Stillness” ending (my favorite). You have to have the chainsaw for this, because otherwise, you don’t yet have a weapon to break the window. The key isn’t there for me because I haven’t gotten the prerequisite “In Water” ending yet. You can see Ian get the key on his stream. 

49:26: You reach town (Achievement: “Enjoy Your Stay”) and get the map of South Vale. The musical cue there sounds very Twin Peaks to me. 

49:50: You see on the map that we came in on Wiltse Road. You need to remember this for a quiz (there will be a quiz) a million hours from now. All the streets in town are named for authors (per Lost Memories: Silent Hill Chronicle), and this one is named for David Wiltse, who wrote a book called Home Again. I don’t have any plot details, but the title makes me think of Mary as the person who was “home” to James, and we'll see a record titled "The Long Way Home" in the second commentary video.

50:58: The flower shop. I have a lot to say about this, and these are both kind of pet themes for me:

1) There's a flower motif throughout the game, including paintings, fabric prints, and actual plants. Florals in general represent Mary; white flowers represent Mary, and red flowers represent Maria, as in the “Ms. Cassondra” note (which I mispronounce) here. “Red and white flowers together are unlucky” may be Cult Stuff (update: it's Cult Stuff), but IMO it’s mainly the idea that Mary and Maria are not... compatible realities. I wasn’t sure if it was a Japanese (Team Silent) or Polish (Bloober Team) superstition, but I haven’t found anything to that effect. 

2) One of the reasons I wanted to discuss spoilers up front is that I wanted to bring forward Mary’s monologue from the end and discuss how “I was so angry” changes what little you've seen about her up to that point (saintly dead wife, Madonna figures on literal pedestals), and yet it’s woven throughout the imagery of the game before that (anger management posters that may reflect her, not just James; the roar stun that monsters have representing verbal abuse). And in a flashback, she says, “I don’t want any damn flowers,” the flowers that James tried to bring her. The flower shop itself and ads for it appear throughout James’ version of Silent Hill because that specifically hurt James, I think. 

54:06: We run across a giant insect, a “creeper” originating in the first Silent Hill game (this is Ian’s lane). James, who generally pulls out his melee weapon when enemies are nearby, goes into the Texas Chainsaw Massacre-inspired animation from the original game. I start yelling at him to be civilized. 

54:24: “What is this?” The blood trail that will lead you to the combat tutorial. Everyone mocks James for not figuring out that it’s blood, but I’m just saying, it looks nasty and it might be more than just blood. 

56:57: Following the trail, we see our first Lying Figure. James naively calls after it. I can’t defend him on this one. 

57:25: Lindsey Street was named for author David Lindsay. I’ll stop citing Wikipedia when it stops being well-sourced and concise (emphasis mine): 

“A Voyage to Arcturus has been described as the major 'underground' novel of the 20th century. The secret of Lindsay's apparent originality as a novelist lies in his metaphysical assumptions. Like the gnostics he seems to have viewed the "real" world as an illusion, which must be rejected in order to perceive genuine "truth".”

But also, The Haunted Woman: 

“There Isabel discovers a strange staircase few can see, which leads upwards to three doors. She chooses one, which opens onto a room that appears to exist only part of the time; what might lie behind the other doors remains a mystery. In the room she reencounters [the owner of the house]. There they find new insights and are able to express themselves in new ways, but are unable to recall what has transpired there when they leave. They develop a disturbing parallel relationship in the mysterious room....”

This may resonate with Maria as a parallel Mary in an unreal world.

58:50: Then we take a detour to Vachss Road, so I can get the “Do Not Enter” Glimpse of the Past. Did not mention: per Lost Memories: Silent Hill Chronicle, this is named after Andrew Vachss, author of the hard-boiled Burke mystery novels, but also an attorney/social worker/advocate for abused children. As such, this may have relevance to Angela’s back story. 

1:00:00: We return to the blood trail and find the alley leading to the combat tutorial. Discussion of the fact that traversals are marked with white cloth... like half of Silent Hill. People also mock James for crawling into a derelict garage, but I want to point out that 1) he throws all caution/reason to the wind whenever he thinks he has a chance of finding anything related to Mary, and 2) the only reason he does his is because we make him, and maybe “Ugh” is directed at us. 

1:03:27: Save point. Two floral prints in the room: curtains with a red flower print (Mary, but possibly Maria?), and a blue-flowered bed sheet that I am pretty sure comes from James and Mary’s house—I’ll leave it at that. Also: (presumably) Mary’s time of death (9:10 and 15 seconds) is on every single clock in the game. Trust me, I looked. 

1:04:50: A tutorial to find a health drink (30% heal?), and also disappointment in an empty cabinet. 

1:06:00: Combat tutorial with a lying figure. There’s projectile acid vomit (“AH, GODDAMMIT”) and pooling blood, as well as body horror: the lying figure design incorporates a body bag, a straitjacket, corset lacing, platform shoes, and creature designer Masahiro Ito seeing a coworker shamble down the hall in a hoodie. 

Did not mention: the vomit attacks were not meant to represent Mary’s cough or any kind of chemotherapy side effects, but Masahiro Ito likes that interpretation.

I refer to the shoes as “stripper heels” (I did realize afterwards that those usually have a separated heel) because we will end up at a literal strip club later in the game; the game implies that James has been to similar clubs and may have lost his wedding ring at one, and so this may be why these deeply out-of-place shoes turn up on some of the monsters that confront him. James seems to have a thing for legs in particular. 

I say more about this in the second video, but I feel like both the lying figures and the mannequins (which are two pairs of legs that punch you in the face) are aggressive manifestations of that, as if to say, “Oh, you like this? Fantasizing about other women’s legs while your wife is sick? HOW YOU LIKE IT NOW??” I don’t consider having these monsters as our enemies to be rank misogyny so much as aspects of this man’s fantasies coming to life in a very hostile way—a subversion of them. But I also remark now and then, I don’t like being a person who constantly beats these things to a pulp—but I'm also having to defend myself. This is survival horror, and that’s kind of how it works. Your mileage may vary. 

(As I was rewatching the commentary, I did realize that the shoes kind of remind me of “those are his hooves you bitch.”)

Did not mention: this Takayoshi Sato (character designer/CGI director) quote about sex and death combined, which says to me that the monsters’ fetish quality was not necessarily indicative of James’ fixations:

"Psychological horror has to shake human's heart deeply. Shaking people's heart deeply means uncover people's core emotion and their core motivation for life. Everybody is thinking and concerning about sex and death. Everything. If we want to scare, shake, or touch the users or spectators, then we have to think about sex and death deeply. To make like a death scene, somebody died or monsters died, we tried to mix erotic essence. This is kind of a visual and a core concept."

I’m not saying it’s an ace-friendly approach, but that was Team Silent's vision that Bloober Team has carried forward.

1:07:36: Genuinely, James says “It’s not human�� (so he doesn’t have to feel bad about killing it) because there is an actual achievement (“A Human Being”) the first time you kill a human nemesis. It’s a thing. Did not mention: I’ve always thought it was interesting that movies and games will feature hordes of dehumanized enemies (zombies, monsters, orcs, robots, clones, masked henchmen, etc.) so the heroes can mow them down and we don’t think less of them for it. Explicitly being told that James is killing things that “aren’t human” allows us to beat and shoot hundreds of enemies to death in a game partly about the morality of killing without feeling bad about it. 

1:09:00: We get our first syringe (100% heal). Discussion of the oscillating fan in the corner, and how fans represent cycles and repetition. You will see them a lot, sometimes very large and obviously symbolic ones. It's also the color of James' car, a color that frequently turns up on objects/locations I think are from his subconscious.

1:10:34: Mary’s voice on the radio. The subtitles may give something away. See Ian’s stream for a full-spoiler discussion of what she says. 

1:11:30: A Glimpse of the Past just outside the fence. In the original game, James sees a body that looks a lot like him. Discussion of time loop theory (which I love), and how Bloober Team ran with this concept and put dead bodies with the James model throughout the game. You can even think of them as the times James dies when we play. What this means is that we put James through the time loop—the repetition of this roughly 24-hour period of confronting all kinds of horrors and also himself—every time we play this game. See also:

Dan Allen Gaming: Silent Hill 2 Remake - Is James Stuck in a Time Loop?

Nubzombie: Let's Talk About Silent Hill 2 Loop Theory

1:13:13: The Bible verse allusion on the license plate: Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” And there's the Car Color again. Did not mention: It took me almost a week to realize that "rest" may refer to the healing drink we find right above it. 

1:14:30: We find the body of a James who clearly had a bad day: features are unrecognizable, but you can see that it’s his jacket and boots. Discussion of alternatives to time loop theory: there’s a later scene with Eddie (this is what I allude to and stop myself, just because it was too much to get into) where there are bodies around the room of people Eddie presumably killed, and they all look like James. Because James can’t see Eddie’s version of Silent Hill (Silent Hill seems tailored to each person), it may be that James’ mind simply pasted himself onto people who are personal to Eddie, but James can’t see. In that vein, that may be why James sees himself in all the bodies throughout the game—are they maybe even other visitors who didn’t survive?

Alternately, and I have to credit Ian for bringing this up: there are two endings where James does choose to end his own life, and there are subtle suggestions throughout the game either that James wants to die, or that exhort him to not give up. It may just be that James seeing himself dead all throughout town is suicidal ideation. 

So, if you don’t like the time loop theory, there are alternative interpretations. I do, however. 

1:16:20: We also pick up a note that ends in “Sometimes you have to look behind.” Discussion of Orpheus and Eurydice. You can read this as, “Sometimes, you just have to look behind,” you should look back on your past, and to the truth that James can’t admit (again, this is the big spoiler). But you can also read it as, “Sometimes, you just have to look behind,” you shouldn’t look back, but sometimes you just have to, like Orpheus turning to look at Eurydice and losing her. In some of these endings, “looking back” and accepting the truth means that James comes to understand that Mary is not coming back, and he loses her for good. This sounds like a nice headcanon on my part, sure, but there’s one more thing later that makes me think I’m not just making this up. Remind me when we get to Rosewater Park if I don’t mention it there. 

Addendum: Ian has since emailed me with the revelation that the filmmakers of the upcoming movie adaptation, about which I have very mixed feelings but that’s a discussion for another time, have said they are really into an “Orpheus and Eurydice” interpretation, so I was apparently onto something here.

1:18:15: Martin Street save point; I didn’t mention that it’s named for the author David Martin because I couldn’t figure out which David Martin this referred to. 

The “LEM3232” license plate Bible verse, as discussed at Silent Hill Heaven:

This presumably refers to King Lemuel, whose sayings are listed in the book of Proverbs. However, there is no chapter 32 in Proverbs. It could also be a typo and meant to be LAM, or Lamentations. Unfortunately it, too, lacks 32 chapters. Lamentations 3:23 reads: Although he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.

I would say this reasoning is far-fetched, except that it fits really well. 

Next post: Tons of locations in town itself, Pyramid Head's Great Knife, and additions/corrections.

(SH2R commentary master post)

[foggyfanfic]

Fixations

Summary: Bruno has always been fascinated by superstitions. (I wasn't going to write a fic about neurodivergency on the Encanto universe and not include Bruno).

3. Bruno

When his teacher told him knocking on wood for luck was ridiculous, Bruno told her that her great aunt was going to have an allergic reaction to the wedding cake at his teacher’s wedding. His teacher had rolled her eyes (he would later find out she was rolling her eyes because the mere mention of her great aunt annoyed her) and told him that his great aunt wasn’t even going to eat the wedding cake at her wedding because they were going through the trouble of making her her own, coconut free, cake.

Three weeks later, when his teacher’s great aunt was puffed up like a very fancy balloon, a plate of coconut cake in her hand, she excused her actions by saying, “But I love coconut!”

“Then why even make us get you your own cake?!” His teacher had looked far more frustrated with her great aunt than she ever had with any student, even him. Someday, helping Félix to wrangle his great grandmother at his and Pepa’s wedding to make up for his “looks like rain” comment, Bruno would understand.

On that day, Bruno muttered, “Should have knocked on wood.”

His teacher barely gave him a glance, but his mother pulled him aside and gave him yet another lecture on manners and what she called “time and place”.

At his mother’s insistence he had written his teacher an apology note, but she hadn’t even read it, instead she just told him, “I don’t actually mind the knocking, but it does disturb the other children when they’re trying to focus. Does it really help you do your work?”

“Sí,” Bruno had nodded his head so eagerly it made his curls bounce around his face, “I-I get nervous when I don’t do it a-and can’t do anything.”

“Alright, well, I have something for you,” the teacher opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a slim book, “this is a book about superstitions around the world. How about you pick a silent one that you can do in class when you’re having trouble focusing?”

Bruno had accepted the book, mouth gaped open because it was one of the kindest gifts he’d ever received in all of his eleven and a half years. He tried stuttering out a thank you, but it kept shaking and falling flat. Eventually he just hugged his teacher. She made a surprised sound, then hugged him back.

(Roughly 39 years later this very same teacher would help him to start scheduling his weekly story times, when he was trying to re-integrate himself into society.)

Bruno had poured over the book front to back and back to front. By the end of the week he had the whole thing memorized down to the errant comma on page 21 that should have been placed five words over. After much deliberation, a discussion with his teacher, and a quick negotiation with his mother, he picked throwing salt over his shoulder, because it was practiced all over the world so it must work. His teacher even helped him find more information about the superstition.

“Some people think it’s because salt has historically been so valuable that only the most fortunate can afford to toss a handful over their shoulder,” his teacher said, on a day when he’d volunteered to stay after and help her clean, she held a book on the history of salt open for him to see, “but personally, I think it would make more sense that it brings good luck because the pure salt has cleaning properties. Maybe it cleans away the bad luck.”

Bruno had silently nodded, staring at the page while he continued to wipe a slate clean. Inside his brain was going a mile a minute.

Three weeks later, when he was taking a shower, his brain got caught on the possibility that Pepa might never forgive him for getting cookie dough in her hair. He didn’t have any salt, and there wasn’t any wood handy in the shower, so he filled his palm with soap and threw it over his shoulder.

When Bruno was fifteen the library got a new book about superstitions, he read it. Apparently knocking on wood was supposed to be good luck because it freed trapped spirits.

He lay in bed with the book spread across his chest until the sun came up, wondering how spirits got trapped in the wood in the first place. And what else could a spirit get trapped in? He made it his mission to knock on every natural material in the house at least once, just in case. It seemed to work for him, because not long after that his Má set aside a whole day just to spend helping Bruno figure out how to keep his rats out of trouble.

He watched her as she handled one of his two pets, looking only a little uncomfortable, until he got up the nerve to ask her, “You don’t like my rats, do you?”

She chuckled, and didn’t bother denying it, “No mijo, I don’t. Here in Encanto we don’t really seem to get deadly diseases, but growing up… rats could be dangerous.”

“Oh,” he stared down at the little rat in his own palm, she was soft and her fur was shiny, “so why do you let me keep them?”

“Because they make you happy,” Alma said without skipping a beat, then with a bit more hesitance she continued, “you remind me of my cousin on my father’s side. She… also had little rituals to help her alleviate her worries. Her life wasn’t always easy… honestly, her life was almost never easy, but when she had her little cat with her she was so vibrant, she had the sweetest smile. Just like you.”

“My life is never easy,” he said, thinking about Señora Florez complaining because his vision revealed her harvest was going to be impacted by some sort of beetle she hated.

“Hm, I’ve noticed,” Alma agreed with a deep frown, “if these rats help you… I can’t say I will ever like them, but I will love them.”

Bruno had smiled a little, entertained by the contradiction. Over the years, when things got rough, he would begin to think that his mother may have loved him, but she had probably stopped liking him at some point. In the here and now, he was interested in hearing more about this cousin of his.

“What sorta rituals did she do?”

His mother frowned deeper, then pursed her lips, a strange tension in her jaw, then it smoothed out and she said, “You know that healing song? The one I used to sing when you skinned your knee? She would do that anytime she thought there was a chance somebody might get hurt.”

Later, when he was much, much older, and he and his Má were having a frank conversation about all of his little rituals, she would admit that most of her cousin’s rituals involved an element of self harm. That she had known there was a chance he would copy whatever ritual she told him about and she had been too scared to mention her cousin’s most common rituals because she didn’t want to see her son hurt himself. 

“She was always so worried about food and water, about there being enough,” Alma would explain, looking deeply sad, “eventually she… she died because of it. She kept hiding food in her room and it attracted all sorts of pests, which eventually attracted snakes. She got bit climbing into her own bed. If she had been stronger, if she had eaten better, maybe…? But she was always starving herself trying to make the food stretch farther. I-I was twelve at the time, and I just… I don’t think I’ve ever truly gotten over it.”

As a result of that conversation Bruno spent the rest of his life folding up his blankets at the foot of his bed instead of making it every morning. It also got him to start eating more, so his mother considered it a win.

But before that, way before that, when Bruno was in his twenties and trying to get over breaking up with his boyfriend, he requested the merchants bring him back any book they might find about romantic superstitions. They had snickered, but agreed, and roughly half a year later Bruno found himself holding a book titled “Lucky in Love: a Guide to Wedding Superstitions”. He would have grumbled over the fact that the book was wedding specific, and he was struggling to so much as find a date much less a spouse, but his sisters were already dating their future husbands. 

Maybe he would find a wife or husband (or a gender neutral “partner” as it would someday be called in some parts of the world when people like him were more open about their existence) at his sisters’ weddings. Even if he didn’t, he would not turn down the chance to give his sisters a bit of extra luck.

It backfired a little, turns out trying to tell Pepa “It looks like rain on your wedding day is actually good luck, so cry all you want” right before he walks her down the aisle is a bad idea. Mostly because he got cut off by the wedding march starting up right after he’d finished saying “It looks like rain”. On reflection, that would have been an awkward way to say it, especially because he was stuttering at the time. On even more reflection, he might have gotten further into the sentence if he hadn’t stuttered over the first word so much.

(It would be literal decades before he got to explain what he meant to say.)

But regardless of the fact that his words apparently set off a hurricane, he was glad he said it. If rain on your wedding day is good luck, then having an entire hurricane rage while you made your vows had to be the best luck possible. Sure enough, Pepa and Félix remained disgustingly in love with each other forever. 

Since Julieta couldn’t summon up a lucky hurricane for herself, Bruno filled her wedding with every other lucky something or other he could. It was a lot of work, and annoyed his mother, but it was worth it because Agustín and Julieta also remained disgustingly in love forever (although they had the decency to be a little less showy about it).

“This is sweet of you,” Julieta said, as Bruno braided a blue ribbon into her hair, leading back to her veil, “a bit much, but sweet.”

“I-I just want to make sure you’re happy,” he said.

“I know, that’s why it’s sweet,” she chuckled, “I know Má has been trying to get you to calm down, a-and I definitely wouldn’t mind if you took a break and actually spent some time with me, but I do appreciate the sentiment behind all this.”

And when she said the word “this” she gestured at the pile of lucky charms Bruno had collected on the bathroom counter. He stared at them and had a moment of clarity.

Sighing, pinning the end of her braid beneath her veil, he said, “I know, logically speaking, th-that it doesn’t really… that even if I didn’t…, you and Agustín are perfect for each other.”

“I like to think so,” Juli agreed, turning on the vanity stool to put a calming hand on Bruno’s forearm while he wrung his fingers.

“But we’re magic, Pá died and we got a miracle because of it, clearly something or somebody out there is paying attention. There has to be… a language to it, a way to communicate when we want help with the little things,” he put his hand on hers and looked deeply into her eyes, trying to convince her even though she had never argued with him, “I-I know the future is what we make it, god do I know, b-but there must be some way to tell whoever or whatever gave us our miracle that I… th-that this… I just want to do whatever I can to make sure you’re happy.”

Julieta had smiled, glowing and beautiful in her white dress, then stood and hugged Bruno, “I can’t imagine ever being truly miserable so long as I have my brother by my side.”

But the moment of clarity he had on Juli’s wedding day was nothing compared to the one he had when he was forty, holding a vision that changed when he shifted it. He stood there for what felt like forever, but he knew it was mere seconds, shifting the tablet back and forth, watching the cracks behind little Mirabel open and close.

In the years to come his little rituals were a vital part of keeping his sanity, but in that moment, it was so incredibly clear that it was all bullshit.

The villagers had their own superstitions. Superstitions about the candle and the miracle and the magic family that lived at the edge of town. Superstitions about him.

And it was all bullshit.

They thought his visions cemented the future into place, but the truth was he could only see a future that was already solid. He was not the artist behind the tapestry of time, he was the guy selling tickets to the gallery showing, he could not show people a tapestry that hadn’t been woven; he did not paint the pictures, he plucked out pictures that had already been painted and filled a museum with them. They thought he was bad luck, that his visions only showed their undoing because he was the one having them, but they never considered that by the time he had the visions it was already too late. Usually, by the time somebody got worried about their lethargic fish or thinning hair it was already too late. Usually they only came to him for visions when they already knew, deep down, that they were screwed. But nonetheless, they thought he was a curse. They crossed themselves before entering his room, threw salt over their shoulders when he passed, clutched their rosaries while they spoke to him.

Just like him, they had their rituals and their superstitions.

It was all bullshit.

He smashed the vision on the only stone in his sandpit, summoning up just a flicker of the future so the sand would blow over the shards. He walked out of his vision cave, but paused at the door.

For a second, a spiteful part of him wanted to show the village what he could have done for them. For a second he thought about spending the rest of the night summoning visions of shared feasts and lively parties, of towering cities to come and alien forests far beyond the Encanto’s mountains, of World Cups won and movies loved and children adored. For a second he thought that he might fill the town square, tile it in emerald, show them all the beauty, all the hope that he could have given them if they would just set aside their fear for once, set aside all their stupid rituals, and let him. Then, once he had shown them how much good he could have done, then he would disappear.

But then there was that itch, that horrible twitching like when your eyelid gets an incessant tick you can’t soothe. Because what if… what if it wasn’t bullshit? What if he really was a curse? What if by waiting, by delaying, he was just ushering in a worse fate for little Mirabel?

He left his cave without a backwards glance and knocked on the first piece of wood he could find.

[bad-fucking-omens]

The Witch Twin (Alec V. x OC) - Chapter 2 - Volterra

Summary: When I thought about my future, I was sure that I had the rest of my life vaguely planned out.

Then, my older sister moved up from Arizona to stay with us — and turned my entire life upside down.

I had no idea just how bad it had gotten until I was standing in a castle in Italy, convinced that I was about to die.

Length: 2.9K words (Complete fic 71.8K words)

Fic warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, explicit smut (M/F), referenced/implied past child abuse, emotional manipulation by sibling

Chapter warnings: None

Read on AO3 or read below

2. VOLTERRA

Bella couldn’t sit still in her seat on the flight from Seattle to New York. She fidgeted constantly while she and Alice whispered to each other, but honestly, I wasn’t paying much attention to them.

I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that vampires were actually real, and that the Cullens were vampires. Were all the legends about vampires true? Did they drink human blood? Could they go out in sunlight or would they burn and crumble to ash? Were they immortal?

It all sounded absurd, and yet here I was, on a plane and headed halfway across the world to save my sister’s ex-boyfriend from killing himself because he thought she had died.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the plane finally landed in New York. We had to run through the airport to make our connecting flight to Florence, Italy. On that flight, my mind wandered away from the Cullens and vampires to Charlie.

I had made a rash decision in coming with Bella and Alice. What if Bella and I both died? Charlie would be absolutely destroyed if he lost both of us. But I knew that as risky as my decision to come with Alice and Bella was, I had to be here. I knew that Bella had to try to save Edward, but if he died, Bella would try to follow him into the grave as soon as possible. She had to save him, or Charlie and I would lose her. I couldn’t just sit at home, waiting and hoping my sister would come back rather than disappearing suddenly from the world. I could only pray that we all made it out of here alive.

When the plane landed in Italy, Alice rushed us out of the plane and airport. She led us down to the parking garage, where she stole a bright yellow Porsche. Bella and I climbed into the sportscar.

I stared out of the car window as Alice sped down the winding Italian roads. She and Bella were focused only on Edward. I forced myself to tune out their conversation, just watching the Tuscan landscape as it blurred past us. Beautiful, rolling, green hills that were studded with gorgeous Italian villas surrounded us for miles.

“It’s Saint Marcus Day.”

“Which means?” Bella asked.

Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away from the window to look at Alice in the front seat.

Alice laughed darkly and answered, “The city holds a celebration every year. As the legend goes, a Christian missionary, a Father Marcus — Marcus of the Volturi, in fact — drove all the vampires from Volterra fifteen hundred years ago. The story claims he was martyred in Romania, still trying to drive away the vampire scourge. Of course that’s nonsense — he’s never left the city. But that’s where some of the superstitions about things like crosses and garlic come from. Father Marcus used them so successfully. And vampires don’t trouble Volterra, so they must work. It’s become more of a celebration of the city and recognition for the police force — after all, Volterra is an amazingly safe city. The police get the credit.”

“They’re not going to be very happy if Edward messes things up for them on St. Marcus Day, are they?”

Alice shook her head at Bella’s question. “No. They’ll act very quickly.”

Bella glanced away from her, looking as if she might burst into tears. She looked out of the window and up at the sun.

“He’s still planning on noon?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s decided to wait. And they’re waiting for him.”

“Tell me what I have to do.”

Alice said, “You don’t have to do anything. He just has to see you before he moves into the light. And he has to see you before he sees me.”

“How are we going to work that?” Bella asked.

“I’m going to get you as close as possible, and then you’re going to run in the direction I point you. Your sister will stay with me,” she added, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I just nodded. I knew that this wasn’t the time for me to argue — if Bella was going to save Edward, I couldn’t be in the way.

“There,” Alice said suddenly. She pointed to a castle city that crowned the nearest hill. “Volterra.”

The street Alice was driving through was very narrow. The red flags that seemed to cover every inch of this city were draped along the walls that nearly scraped the car, flapping in the wind. Even this tiny side street was crowded with people.

“Just a little further,” Alice murmured.

Bella was gripping the handle of her door so tightly that her knuckles were white. She was ready to push it open and run out into the street as soon as Alice told her to.

The people around us were clearly annoyed with Alice’s aggressive driving. She squeezed through narrow alleyways, making the passersby press against the walls and into doorways as we forced our way past them. The buildings were taller now — so tall that no sunlight was able to reach the pavement.

As soon as Alice stopped the car, Bella threw the door open. The pixie-like girl — no, vampire — pointed towards where the street widened into the sunlight.

“There — we’re at the southern end of the square. Run straight across, to the right of the clock tower. I’ll find a way around–”

She broke off suddenly and hissed, “They’re everywhere!”

My heart stuttered in my chest and Bella froze, but Alice pushed my sister out of the car.

“Forget about them! You have two minutes. Go, Bella, go!”

Bella began sprinting away, roughly shoving people out of her way. I climbed out of the car with Alice. I kept my eyes on Bella for as long as I could until Alice pulled me away with a gloved hand on my arm and my sister disappeared from my view.

“Come on,” Alice said to me.

I followed her as she maneuvered through the streets, around people dressed entirely in red. Alice pulled me through the narrow streets and alleys, pointedly keeping herself hidden in the shadows. I followed her silently. I was barely paying any attention to Alice or where she was leading me — my mind was focused entirely on Bella.

Would she be fast enough to stop Edward from doing whatever he thought would get the Volturi to kill him? What if she was too late? What if she saw him being taken away, or worse, executed? What would happen after she stopped him if she could reach him in time?

Alice pulled me from my thoughts when she grabbed my hand and tugged me into a dark alley. She said softly, “Let’s behave ourselves, shall we? There are ladies present.”

She brought me closer to the others, though she kept me right by her side. I let out a small, relieved breath when I saw Bella clinging to Edward, though my stomach twisted when I saw the two men in front of them. Alice pulled me along with her as she moved to stand beside her brother, her hand still gripping mine tightly.

The two others straightened up to their full height. The tall, bulky one looked annoyed, while the shorter, slender one eyed me curiously. I pressed closer to Alice’s side as my racing heart jumped up to my throat.

He had red eyes.

“We’re not alone,” Alice warned.

The vampire who had been studying me glanced over his shoulder. I followed his gaze. A few yards behind him, a small family was watching us from the square. The mother was speaking urgently to a man who was probably her husband, her eyes locked on the six of us in the alley. She looked away when the vampire met her eyes. The man walked a few steps away and tapped the shoulder of another man in a red blazer.

The shorter, red-eyed vampire turned back towards us, shaking his head. “Please, Edward. Let’s be reasonable.”

“Let’s,” Edward replied. “And we’ll leave quietly now, with no one the wiser.”

He sighed frustratedly. “At least let us discuss this more privately.”

Behind him, six more people had joined the family now, and all of them were watching us anxiously. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as goosebumps erupted on my skin. Every part of my mind and body screamed that I was in danger. I tried to focus on taking slow, steady breaths to prevent myself from hyperventilating.

“No,” Edward said and the tall vampire smiled.

“Enough.”

The high-pitched, English-accented voice came from behind us. Alice pulled me almost entirely behind her body, so that I could only barely see the other figure moving towards us.

The girl was younger than either of the male vampires, and I guessed that she might be around my age — seventeen. She was as small as Alice and, although her body was mostly hidden under a dark, nearly black cloak, it was clear that she was slim. Her face was beautiful, angelic in a way that reminded me of Renaissance paintings of young maidens, but she was even prettier. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her eyes were crimson red.

The two other red-eyed vampires instantly relaxed in her presence. Even the tension in Edward’s body disappeared, though he seemed more defeated than relieved.

“Jane,” he sighed.

Alice folded her arms across her chest, a sour look on her face. Bella looked about as confused and terrified as I felt.

“Follow me,” the girl, Jane, told us.

She turned around and began to silently walk back towards where she had come from. The tall vampire gestured for us to follow her. The smug smirk that curled on his lips turned my stomach.

Alice was the first to follow Jane. Edward’s touch was gentle as he pushed me forward to talk in front of him, so that I was between him and Alice. He kept Bella tucked tightly against his side. When I glanced at her over my shoulder, she didn’t seem nearly as anxious as I felt, but for some reason, that didn’t put me at ease. I turned back around quickly, curling my arms around my stomach as my anxiety grew.

“Well, Alice,” Edward began, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”

“It was my mistake,” she said. “It was my job to set it right.”

“What happened?” Edward’s voice was casual, as if he was barely interested in her answer.

“It’s a long story. . . . In summary, she did jump off a cliff, but she wasn’t trying to kill herself. Bella’s all about the extreme sports these days.”

I glanced back at Bella again, my lips parted in shock and horror. She had jumped off a cliff? Alice gently took my arm to keep me moving and I turned back around, shaking my head.

“Hm,” Edward hummed.

We reached a dead end at the end of the alley. I gasped lightly and took a step back in shock when Alice dropped down into the open hole in the street. They wanted me to do that?

“It’s all right,” Edward said, making me look at him. “Alice will catch you.”

I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. I took a breath as I turned back around, taking a step closer to the drain that was sunk into the lowest part of the street. The grate had been pushed halfway aside, but the hole was big enough for me to swing my legs into the narrow gap. I took another deep, steadying breath, then pushed myself off the ledge and into the darkness.

I grunted when I landed in Alice’s rock-hard arms. She set me on my feet and I bent over, pressing a hand to my chest and gasping quietly as I tried to regain the breath that had been knocked out of me. A few moments later, Bella fell into Alice’s arms.

It was dark, but not completely pitch-black at the bottom of the drain. The stones under my feet reflected wetly in the bright light from the street above us. The light vanished for a split second each time the other three vampires dropped through the hole to the ground. They all landed lightly on their feet, so quietly that I could just barely hear them.

Edward pulled Bella against his side as we began to walk forward. Once again, I was stuck between the Cullens, with Alice in front of me and Edward and Bella trailing behind me. I tried not to stumble on the uneven, slick stones that lined the floor, especially when the dim light finally faded into total darkness. Our footsteps echoed in my ears — along with my own frantic heartbeat.

What the hell had I gotten myself into? What had Bella gotten us into? Was I walking to my death? My throat tightened when I thought about how they would kill me. It wasn’t hard to imagine how one of the red-eyed vampires would grab me and pull me close enough to sink their teeth into my neck. Would I bleed out before I could realize what was happening to me, before I could even process the pain? Or would my last few moments in this world be filled with terror and agony?

We stepped through a door, out of the dark, stone sewer and into a brightly lit hallway. The walls were off-white, the floor covered in an industrial grey carpet. Fluorescent lights shone down on us from the ceiling.

I followed Alice towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. Jane waited for all of us, her small, delicate hand holding the doors open for us.

Once we were inside the elevator, the vampires from the Volturi relaxed, which only made me tense up even more in response. They let the hoods of their dark cloaks fall back onto their shoulders. The two males both had an olive complexion, though it was slightly ashen. The bulky one had shortly cropped black hair, while the shorter one’s dark blonde hair fell across his forehead in gentle waves. Under their dark grey cloaks, they wore clothes that were modern and pale.

I looked at my older sister. Bella was clinging to Edward’s side, who had his eyes locked on Jane. Suddenly, I was surprisingly grateful to be stuck between Alice and Edward now, rather than being forced to stay close to the other vampires. My heart was still racing in my chest, though, and I was half-worried that I would have a heart attack before the vampires could kill me. I wondered which death I would prefer.

The elevator ride was short. When the doors opened, we stepped out into a posh office reception area. The walls were paneled wood and the floor was covered with a thick, dark green carpet. There were no windows, but the walls were covered in large, brightly lit paintings of the Tuscan countryside. They were so realistic that I could almost believe that they were windows to the outside. Pale leather couches were arranged in small groupings around glossy tables that held crystal vases full of brightly colored flowers.

A tall, polished mahogany counter stood in the middle of the room. The woman sitting behind it was very pretty, but here, surrounded by so many aesthetically perfect vampires, she looked plain by comparison. She seemed completely at ease around them, though. She didn’t even bat an eye at our large group, just politely smiled and greeted, “Good afternoon, Jane.”

“Gianna,” the blonde vampire replied as she led us towards a set of double doors in the back of the room.

A boy was waiting on the other side. He was wearing a well-fitted, white dress shirt, along with a pair of tailored dark grey dress pants. He looked similar to Jane in both looks and age, though his features were slightly more angular and masculine, and somehow even more perfect than the blonde girl’s. His brown hair was so dark that it was almost black, wavy, and just barely long enough for the very ends of his hair to curl over his forehead.

The sight of him very nearly took my breath away as my heart stuttered in my chest. He was gorgeous — more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen before.

The boy walked forward to greet us. He smiled as he reached for Jane, greeting her with her name.

“Alec,” she replied as she hugged him. A strange feeling twisted in my stomach as they kissed each other’s cheeks on both sides. The boy looked over at the group of us, his red eyes trailing over Edward and Bella first.

“They send you out for one and you come back with two . . . and two halves,” he noted. “Nice work.”

Jane laughed. I noticed that, just like her, Alec had a strange accent that seemed to be a beautiful mix of English and Italian.

Alec said, “Welcome back, Edward. You seem in a better mood.”

“Marginally,” Edward agreed.

Alec chuckled, his eyes moving to look at Bella. “And this is the cause of all the trouble?”

Edward smiled thinly. He froze and a moment later, one of the vampires behind us said, “Dibs.” Edward turned, a low snarl building in his chest that made me flinch, which drew Alec’s gaze to me.

[godraet]

what is a superstition in my muse’s culture?

is there a widely held religion in my muse’s culture? 

what are the views on hospitality in my muse’s culture? 

what is the view of money / wealth in my muse’s culture?

are there any beliefs held in my muse’s culture they don’t agree with? 

culture metas :)

ok we are going to try to not make this a million pages long but uhhh no promises.

what is a superstition in my muse’s culture?

uHHHH is it superstition if it actually is a real thing? let's talk about the omens that lead to someone being named padishah- as in "whats that 100 years kingship thing" all about!

so, the overarching idea that most cultures (not counting the gerudo) grasp is that every 100 years "a male is born into the gerudo and he is crowned king", well that's actually bullshit because gerudo genders are punch muscle and melon crushing thighs. their views of gender aren't about a binary at all- notably, the terms vai and voe aren't actually used when gerudo talk with each other about other gerudo- they use the term "vayam" which has the same energy as how "farsi" derives from pars, which is persia in middle persian, and in the same vein, other people call the gerudo "the gerudo people" (if theyr'e being polite, which for some reason they have trouble with??? yikes), but the gerudo term for that is, you guessed, it, vayam.

anyway, so every 100 years it's said that the old gods breathe life to a new padishah, and the person born under these most auspicious conditions is to be "sun and lion" and "victorious boar". notably, each padishah has been born at night on a solstice (any solstice works) and the skies of the day are always clear, yet charged as if lightning could strike at any moment. in the morning, a flock of oddly colored sand sparrows will fly through the valley, in the afternoon, the winds blow and "sing" but move not a single grain of sand. as the sun sets that day, a group of lynel are always seen crossing the dunes.

oh, and there's also the fact that after all of these omens happen all together, the elders visit the newborn child and will light candles and if the flame burns a brilliant blue then bam this is the padishah.

"and this only ever happens every 100 years? and this is ALWAYS how it is every goddamn time?" yeah it sure is, which is why considering how WEIRD all of those things are ... none of that can just be by chance.

notably, the lynel are said to be warriors loyal to the old gods, and for people who actually pay attention and don't just assume shit, they are associated with an old god called din-vārtra. din-vārtra in other texts is called vārtra the fire-blessed, vārtra kingmaker, vārtra of the heavenly depths, and later, this god is known as demise. notably, din is one of the three golden goddesses and she is represented by fire- which is what her name means (although it can also mean power in certain contexts)

that in itself leads into the Next part of this

is there a widely held religion in my muse’s culture? ( also asked by @gerudospiriit )

ok so as above, i mentioned din-vārtra, the old god who later gets labeled demise (do not Ask how that happened, there were so many mistakes made), and of the gods worshipped by the gerudo, it's din-vārtra and the goddess of the sands (tiamat), and the padishah is said to also be the vessel of din-vārtra, so that's that.

since the padishah [mighty king] (and then in the future, bānbishnān bānbishn [queen of queens, the title used by urbosa and riju, this title is also used to refer to the twinrova and is the secondary title that gan uses for himself]) already serves as leader of the people, most temples are dedicated to the lady of the sands, leaving offerings for her is something that the people believe helps bring the rains.

"but why isn't there anything like temples for din-vārtra?" well it's because din-vārtra is never said to have asked for the worship of the people of the valley, instead it has been passed down that "din-vārtra came with heaven's fire and brought warmth in the chilled desert nights and was welcomed as vayam, and among vayam he has remained"

there are plenty of festivals dedicated to the gods, and of course the golden goddesses are also quite popular, but the lady of the sands and din-vārtra are unique to the gerudo.

what are the views on hospitality in my muse’s culture? 

well, generational trauma made the gerudo say "yikes" about outsiders, but before all of that went down, they were a warm and welcoming people. there's no real rule about not allowing men in, mostly because the gerudo don't see gender like that! it's not about what's in your pants! there are plenty of gerudo born with primary male sex characteristics, that doesn't mean a goddamn thing to them???

they became more and more closed off as they faced greater struggles due to the border war with hyrule, where many other peoples had sided with the hylians, the gerudo valued their freedom and autonomy, and with the padishah out of the picture (they didn't really know what happened) tensions only rose. no one who knew padishah dragmire would ever think he had any fondness for rauru, but it was rather clear that the two kings had fought and when ganondorf didn't return, they assumed rauru had killed him ... and they waited for the omens ... that never came.

but life had to go on, they did what they had to do to protect themselves, even when the great kingdom was burned to the ground (which is why the valley looks so much like the ruins of persepolis, basically the same thing happened), but yeah they closed off because they are protecting what they have left!!! and who could blame them???

what is the view of money / wealth in my muse’s culture?

"wealth is of the soul, of the strength of mind and body." is a nice way to start this.

under padishah dragmire, trade was the way to go, there weren't things like rupees or whatnot, people would trade things. similarly this is how things worked with other kingdoms. common exports of the gerudo were silks and precious gems and spices. the term "wealth" referred to a philosophical thing rather than physical. not to say that by standard definition that ganondorf wasn't exceptionally wealthy, the monetary value of the gems and precious metals he wore on his body alone is ... a LOT, but that's just not how things were seen there?

with the introduction of the rupee, monetary value became "standardized" like the euro in a sense, but that was a fair amount of time after ganondorf was sealed away (so he has so much culture shock??? when he wakes up lmao)

are there any beliefs held in my muse’s culture they don’t agree with? 

uhhh well, considering that ganondorf is the entire ass leader of the gerudo, the culture he was raised with is the one he follows. granted, he would want his people to be more inviting again- cautiously so, but to be closed off is something he feels is unwise; it stifles the growth of a kingdom and its people, but also he Gets it, everything has sucked for the gerudo for a LONG TIME. but, the people are also in the good care of bānbishnān bānbishn urbosa (or riju, depending on the time) and even though times have changed, the strength of the people has endured and so he??? doesn't ??? feel a huge need to argue with it???

[whisker-biscuit]

The Lines We Cross: Chapter 9

The Swamp’s Dark Center

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I like to say I believe in ghosts so I don't get haunted by one.

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Carmelita had never put much belief in superstition. She knew certain supernatural things existed, of course – the clause in the World Peace Accord of 1971 about banning the production of zombies hadn't been made on a whim, after all – but she was still skeptical of the vast majority of things that supposedly went bump in the night.

Still, even she could feel something distinctly off about this place they had just started trekking through. Beyond the dark sky and the creak of trees and the endless swarms of bugs, there was something else here. Something ancient. Powerful.

Malevolent, even.

Sly seemed to feel it too. He was twitchy and on edge, constantly scanning their surroundings as if expecting an assailant from the brambles or even the water. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack like they were his only lifeline.

“I didn’t mean to scare you with what those other officers were claiming,” she said quietly, almost afraid to disturb the natural silence of the swamp. “It's not too late to turn back and wait for me at the hotel.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” he mumbled, sending a sharp look towards a cluster of trees that swayed a little more in the wind than the rest. “We might not have alerted anyone living to our presence yet, but it doesn't mean other things don't know we're here.”

“You believe in ghosts?”

“Of course I do,” the raccoon replied, like it was incomprehensible to do otherwise. “You don’t?”

“Some stories, I guess. I’m a little surprised, though, Ringtail. I would have pegged you as more of a skeptic.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen.”

She tilted her head at him, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Like –”

He cut himself off when they came upon a giant spiked wall that looked more suited for a fortress than a swamp. Its gate was in the shape of some kind of bat-like creature, wings spread menacingly as if to encircle any unwelcome guests.

Sly thumbed up at glowing red eyes that seemed to follow their movement despite having no pupils.

“Like that.”

The inspector stared at the bizarre barricade. Although the walls were easily ten feet high and without any obvious weaknesses, there were a few cracks in the gate itself, and the wood looked like it was starting to rot in places. When she squinted, something about the closed doorway almost seemed to gleam; a purple shimmer in the reflection of the dim moonlight.

Mesmerized, Carmelita lifted her hand and began to reach out.

“Don’t touch it!”

She jerked back, startled by the raccoon's command. “What! What’s wrong?”

“It’s not safe. Look.”

He picked a branch off the ground and tried to press one end of it against the gate. Before it could hit wood, the subtle shimmer suddenly lit up like a flare, and the branch caught fire. Sly dropped the stick to stomp on it until all the embers disappeared.

“How did you know it was going to do that?” The fox asked, startled. “Actually, how did you even know that thing was there? I barely saw anything.”

“You have to know what to look for,” he said, edging as close as he could to peer through the tiny cracks. “With magic like this, there’s always some kind of color that shouldn’t be there, and once you’ve seen it then it becomes obvious. It’s like using dust to reveal invisible lasers.”

“Huh, okay. You still haven’t answered my first question.”

“Personal experience. I told you I believe in this stuff for a reason, Inspector.”

An awkward moment of silence fell between them as she waited for him to elaborate and he didn’t. Eventually she pinched the bridge of her nose in a frustrated sigh.

“Okay, so…how do we get past this…‘death barrier’? I left the jetpack back in the hotel room because it’d be too dangerous to use among all these trees, and neither of us has any magical equipment…I think.”

She accompanied the remark with a significant glance at her partner’s backpack, but he only shook his head.

“Unless you count a change of clothes and some personal effects, then I’m afraid I have to disappoint – oh! Here we go!”

Sly gestured for her to look through the same crevice he was. When she leaned forward to take his place, she could see several candles placed in a semi-circle on the ground on the other side. A significant purple glow radiated off the entire set-up.

“Those right there are what’s keeping the barrier up. We snuff them out, and then it’s gone. The gate will be easy to get through after that.”

Carmelita bit her lip, and looked the entire wall up and down. “I don't like this.”

“Don't like what? The spooky psychic fence?”

“No – well, yes but…I’m starting to see why those officers were so nervous about coming here, even if it’s not for the reasons they’re scared.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, turning to blink at her. “How do you figure?”

“This isn’t anything like Mesa, where Muggshot and his men were running around an abandoned city. This feels like we’re breaking into an established territory. There’s no telling what could set off an alarm. What if turning off that barrier alerts Mz. Ruby to our presence, or you jabbing it with the stick already did?”

The raccoon got a funny kind of look on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to have second thoughts already.”

“I’m not. I just…I wish I had come better prepared. I don’t have any experience with anything supernatural.”

“That’s why you’ve got me,” he said sincerely. “I might not have all your confidential Interpol knowledge, but I’ve been around the block. I guarantee that whatever we encounter here, I’ll probably know how to deal with it.”

“You can’t guarantee something like that, Ringtail. Not when we’re dealing with someone like Mz. Ruby.”

Sly shrugged in the most nonchalant concession she had ever seen anyone make in her life. Carmelita wanted to grab him by the shoulders and demand to know how he was so sure about any of this. How could he act so unfazed by something as outlandish as psychic booby-traps but then be scared silly by something as mundane as a plane ride? Why was he so confident he could handle all these supposedly-supernatural hazards? What kind of ‘personal experience’ did he have that made him wary of ghosts, or recognize glowing barriers and how to remove them?

The kind of personal experience that she needed, apparently.

The fox made a face and gestured towards the obstacle before them. “Okay, well, what do you suggest we do here? We’re still stuck. I can't even touch the gate to try and get to those candles.”

He was staring at the top of the wall, where trees towered over it on both sides like specters.

“I have an idea.”

Before she could say anything, Sly began scaling the nearest tree. Once he was high enough to see over the gate, he started edging out onto a branch that looked far too thin to hold him.

“What are you doing?!” She called, afraid with each step he took that the branch would snap and he would plummet.

“Just trust me. I’ve got this.”

The raccoon inched forward carefully with a level of focus that she suddenly didn’t want to risk breaking. When he reached the end of it, he eyeballed a branch hanging just over the top of the gate from a tree on the other side. Carmelita’s heart leapt into her throat as she realized what he was about to do.

“Don’t –!”

Sly jumped.

He landed on the other branch in a forward crouch, arms pinwheeling as it bobbed up and down dangerously under his weight. After several terrifying seconds of bracing for the worst, he found his balance and looked back at her.

“Told you I’ve got this.” His voice was steady but she could still see the nervous flickering of his tail. The fox pursed her lips as he climbed down the other tree and disappeared from sight behind the gate.

It only took a minute for him to extinguish all the candles on the other side, and the strange, shimmering barrier dissipated like smoke. Carmelita tentatively pressed her palm against the now-normal gate. When it didn’t zap her, she pushed hard at it until the wood splintered enough for her to slip through.

Sly was leaning against the base of the tree he’d jumped to when she joined him on the other side. The fox glanced up at the branches above them, which looked even more precarious than the ones on the first tree.

“How did you do that?” She asked him.

He shrugged. “Gymnastics.”

“Ringtail, I’ve taken gymnastics. I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that.”

“Advanced gymnastics.”

The inspector shook her head and decided it wasn’t worth the energy. “Well, whatever it was, it was impressive – and you got us in safely. Nice job.”

Sly paused in the middle of turning towards the path ahead. At this angle, she couldn’t see his face.

“My pleasure,” he said at last. “Let’s get going before someone notices the barrier is down.”

“Good idea.” She wasn’t exactly keen on finding out what kinds of things Mz. Ruby or her hired men were capable of after that entire display.

Past the barricade, the swamp started showing real signs of someone living there. Paths had been carved along the hard ground for vehicle use, man-made structures began popping up here and there, and lamps were scattered all over to provide just enough light to see what came next. It probably looked different during the day, but in the middle of the night it was both the perfect example of covert operations and brought a supreme sense of dread that the two of them were not supposed to be part of it.

Inspector Fox turned off her flashlight, afraid of drawing unwanted attention when they really didn’t need to use it anymore. It was just in the nick of time as a bobbing, moving glow suddenly broke around the corner of a nearby building. Sly pivoted on his heel and practically pushed Carmelita flat against the wall as they hid and waited.

A large brown rat shuffled by with a lantern atop a large walking stick. He yawned as he walked, just far enough away that the two trespassers were not caught in his light. Carmelita could see the white flash of his teeth before he covered his mouth with a hand.

Neither of them moved until the guard was well past them. She could feel the raccoon’s fur puffed like a blowfish where his arm was stretched across her shoulders. The familiarity of the position made her smile despite the situation.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she whispered once they finally felt safe enough to pull away from the wall. Sly blinked at her, then jerked his arm back as if she’d burned him.

“Sorry,” he whispered back. Even in the dark she could see his face had gone red. “Didn’t mean to shove you.”

“It’s fine, Ringtail. You were just looking out for me.” The fox nudged him, and smiled when he seemed to relax. “Good reaction time.”

She took the lead again, feeling his eyes on her from behind, and pretended that she didn’t notice it.

Another ten or so minutes of walking and they found themselves at the edge of a large, artificial clearing; the most well-lit of anything they’d come across before. A large abstract statue of sorts – or perhaps it was a shrine – sat in its center, covered in candles, and there were multiple buildings and gated pathways circling the entire area. When Carmelita strained to listen past the natural sounds of the swamp, she could faintly hear voices chatting on the other side of the fences.

They had found the center of Mz. Ruby’s operation.

“See any obviously illegal activity?” Sly mumbled in her direction, eyes locked on a huge skull-like structure in the distance.

“No, but I don’t need to.” She pulled out a hand-held GPS in one hand and her radio in the other. “I just have to relay this exact location back to the local Interpol detective, and then he’ll know it’s a good place to send in a team to help me catch Mz. Ruby during her supposed rendezvous with Muggshot.”

“Why didn’t you do that before we started trekking through the swamp?”

“Because he’ll need a safe place to land a helicopter, and we sure as hell haven’t found anything open enough for it besides this spot.”

“Good point.” He stepped up to the bizarre statue, and she thought for a moment he was going to try and climb it, but he crouched at its base instead. “I’ll be the look-out while you do your cop thing.”

“My ‘cop thing’,” the inspector repeated, exasperated but not quite as irritated anymore. “What’s it going to take for you to show a little respect for Interpol procedure?”

“Something worth showing respect for.”

Carmelita’s muzzle scrunched up and she rolled her eyes, then switched on her radio and spoke into the receiver.

“Inspector Fox to dispatch. Come in, dispatch. Over.”

Static answered her.

“Dispatch, are you there?”

The static was replaced by a burst of crackling loud enough for both of them to glance around in alarm. It seemed to have gone unnoticed, however, as no guards came rushing out to investigate.

“Maybe the reception is bad where you’re standing?” Sly offered, ears pinned back from either nervousness or the grating sound.

“It shouldn’t be. We’re in a clearing, not in the middle of the trees.” The fox walked a few paces to her left just in case, then tried again. “Inspector Fox to dispatch. Please respond if you hear this, over.”

They watched the little radio struggle to do anything other than spit more static. It was enough to make her grit her teeth in frustration.

“What on earth is wrong with this –”

 “Wake up, you lazy bags of swamp gas!”

Mz. Ruby’s voice rang out of the device so suddenly and clearly that Carmelita nearly dropped it in shock. She held it out at arm’s length, afraid to touch any buttons for fear that it would give away her unintentional eavesdropping as the crime boss continued.

 “The voodoo vibe is thick tonight. Let’s take advantage of this powerful mojo and step-up production. Keep piling those shiny bones into the soup. We’ll have an army of ghosts by morning, and take over Mexico by the end of the week!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sly stand up, fully alert. Her own fur was bristled to sharp points all the way down to her tail.

“Hear that, voodoo children?” The alligator practically crooned. “Our family is about to grow, grow, grow-ho-ho-ho!”

The transmission ended, and the radio went back to static as if nothing had happened. Inspector Fox stared at it a moment as everything hit her all at once.

“An army…” She whispered in growing horror. “She’s building an undead army! We have to stop her before she can make any more!”

Her partner, although clearly agitated as well, seemed almost more distracted than horrified. He was watching the distant skull with a flickering tail and an unreadable expression.

“Sly, did you even hear me?”

“Of course I did,” he replied, finally tearing his eyes away to look at her instead. “I just don’t exactly know how we’re supposed to do that when you can’t even call for back-up.”

Carmelita bit her lip as she glanced down at her radio. She put it away quickly and straightened her shoulders before she could second guess herself.

“We’ll just do it all ourselves. This will be a…a two-man operation, just like in Mesa. Don’t –” she cut him off as he started to open his mouth, “give me any snark. I didn’t ask for any and I don’t need any.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the raccoon mumbled, sounding more amused by the command than anything else.

“Okay. Good. We currently have…” she checked her watch, “almost three hours until the rendezvous. That should give us plenty of time to scope out exactly what Mz. Ruby is doing to create her army and put a stop to it.”

“Works for me.” Sly spared one last glance at that distant structure. Carmelita wondered what was so fascinating about it – it was unusually shaped, yes, but so was just about everything around them. “Lead the way, inspector.”

Said inspector gave a resolute nod, self-assuredness growing with her partner’s trust. She had no idea how the two of them were going to stop a supernatural assembly line, but surely they’d be able to find a way without too much hassle…right?

Without giving the doubt a chance to take root, the fox approached the nearest building and began testing the doors. Most were locked with actual, physical padlocks, but she kept a careful eye out for any purple shimmering just in case. When she glanced back to see where her companion was, it came as no surprise to see he had indeed decided to climb the statue and was now perched atop it with his legs swinging idly like he was on a jungle-gym.

As ridiculous as he looked up there, it was obvious he was using the height to be a better look-out, and she felt safe enough to turn her back to the clearing.

It didn’t take very long before she finally found an unlocked door, with the added luck that the windows around it were dark, giving her hope that the building would be vacant while they snooped. She waved Sly over who slid off the statue and was at her side in an instant.

“Found something?” He whispered, turned away from her to continue watching their six.

“I think so.” Carmelita turned the knob and opened the door as quietly as possible, relieved that the hinges didn’t squeak. She slipped into the dark room, the raccoon right behind her, and was suddenly hit with the overpowering smell of poultry.

“Oh, man,” she heard Sly say with a whistle, and when she clicked her flashlight on to see why, she was inclined to agree with him.

Chicken coops lined every wall, nook, and cranny, stacked on top of each other to create an entire maze of countless unevolved birds. Many of them only gave a few curious clucks at the evening disturbance, while the rest remained watchful or asleep. Inspector Fox’s snout scrunched up as she realized the coops hadn’t been cleaned in what was probably a good while; the smell was almost enough to make her gag.

“Why are there so many chickens?” She asked, completely confounded by the sight in front of her. Of all the things she’d expected to find – stored body parts, or zombie production equipment, or a room full of voodoo dolls, maybe – this was not one of them. “What is she even going to do with all of them?”

“An army gets hungry, I bet. Even a zombie one.” The raccoon took a few steps forward and began trailing his gloved hand along the closest cage. “The real question is what we can do with them. You think if I let them all out, it would ruffle some feathers?”

The tone in which he said it was downright gleeful as he threw a mischievous look at her over his shoulder. Carmelita gave him a flat stare in return.

“We’re not setting loose an entire room of chickens, Ringtail.”

“Why not?”

“Because – uh, because…”

She did not have an immediate answer, and that seemed to egg Sly on. Without breaking eye contact with her, his hand wandered over to the first coop’s latch and slowly began to undo it.

“Sly,” she warned.

“What?” He asked in faux innocence. “You said we need to stop Mz. Ruby’s plans. I think this is a pretty great place to start, don’t you?”

Once again, Carmelita didn’t have a rebuttal. She could only watch in a mix of dread and almost inappropriate curiosity as the raccoon opened the coop. He pulled the hen out with surprising gentleness, and it cooed as it woke from his touch. Then he set it on the ground, paused as it blinked up at him…

And lunged at it with a loud growl.

The chicken screeched, startled, and fled in a flurry of flapping feathers. Its panic woke its sisters, and soon the entire room was filled with hens freaking out and trying to escape their coops from the threat. Sly’s snarl settled back into a smug smile as he stared at Inspector Fox’s wide, shocked eyes.

“Most number of released chickens wins!”

And he went straight for the next coop.

Carmelita stood frozen a moment, torn between her learned professionalism and her instinctive competitiveness. Then her partner looked back at her as he opened his third cage with a shit-eating grin across his face.

Oh, it was on.

She ran for the opposite wall and started opening coops one-by-one, ducking wings and beaks and talons as the birds barreled past her in their frenzy to escape. Feathers smacked her in the face when one hen tried to jump into her hair, and she could hear Sly laughing at her as it sent her stumbling backwards, throwing her arms up to try and dislodge the disheveled bird. One quick glance showed he was a few meters away, and she cut off his laughter quick by throwing the chicken at him; suddenly he was the one having to deal with a frantic chicken on his body as it attempted to climb up and into his hoodie.

Carmelita used the distraction to close the small lead he had, and soon they were literally neck and neck, fighting for space to see who could reach the next coop before the other. Chickens screeched and flapped all around them – on the ground, in the air, on top of cages – and it became just as much a part of the game just to avoid tripping on a bird as it was to let them out.

By the time every cage was empty, both of them had lost track of who had opened the most and they were completely surrounded by fowl and feathers. As a final way to add insult to injury, Sly opened the door they had come through and scared the entire flock into a frenzy again, sending chickens outside in what could only be described as a hen hurricane. The two went running out after them, booking it for the nearest cluster of swamp overgrowth to hide in just as one of Mz. Ruby’s men finally realized something was not as it should be.

Sly had the biggest grin on his face as they watched several frantic rats try in vain to corral dozens of poultry back inside the building, and even Carmelita had to admit it was a hilarious sight. She struggled to put her professional mask back over her emotions so they could get back to the real task at hand; it was significantly harder to do when she glanced at her partner and saw feathers poking out of the space between his hoodie and his head.

“You look like you’ve been tarred and feathered,” she couldn’t help but snort as he began plucking them out of his fur one by one.

“And you look like you decided feathers make good hair extensions.” His eyes were twinkling and his teeth were gleaming in the dim glow of the nearest camp lights.

The inspector huffed and started combing her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe we just did that. That was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life. It felt like we just TP-ed her front yard.”

“Think of it as calculated sabotage,” the raccoon said cheerfully, in the best mood she’d ever seen him in. “Now all those guards will be too busy catching lost chickens to notice us poking around in the more important parts of this operation. We were just giving ourselves a window of opportunity.”

For the third time in a row, Carmelita found that she could not argue. She rolled her eyes, stood up, and brushed the remaining feathers off her body.

“Come on. We shouldn’t dally here any longer if we’re going to take advantage of that ‘window of opportunity.’”

She held out her hand to help him up and he took it with only a little hesitation. They hurried to the nearest fence, scaled it with no issue, and left behind the lightest of footprints and the screeching of chickens as the only proof of their presence.

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A/N: It took all my willpower not to name this chapter "Down Home Cooking" and spoil the surprise. I wasn't originally going to adapt any of the minigames in the story for obvious reasons, but I had to give a shout-out to the most BS one in the entire game. Sly's taking out 11 years of having to deal with chickens in that scene and I'm doing the same but with 20 years lmao. Also figured a brief bit of levity was in order before we properly delve into the terrifying world of Mz. Ruby.

Thanks for reading!

[jariyala-string]

QUESTIONS ANSWERED.

Has anyone asked me any questions about Jariyala? Actually, yes… But only family and some friends. Most of these questions are ones that I think would be asked, so, I’ll just answer them here.

Read tags before reading this if you’re here for Saku content! This post doesn’t actually have anything to do with Sakuverse, I just mentioned him lol

What is ‘The String Of Jariyala’?

It’s complicated. Years, millennias ago, the Gods of Dochke created the first planet ever (to be known by them), Crenat. This planet was beautiful. Trees covered the lands, pools of water peppered across the plains and mountains. It was luxury, paradise. It was so beautiful, they wanted more planets like this. 27 total planets were created over the course of 900 years, each one having different people, cultures, landscapes, yet all of them were gorgeous. The greenery, the clear water, the birds that flew overhead. It was perfection.

But, of course, bad people must revoke others pleasure. Unknown beings came and attempted to colonise these planes, unaware of the almighty God, Callitri. Her power was like no other, she was the creator of Jariyala and majority of its contents. She created the other Gods using matter of space. She was the ultimate creator. It seemed like they wanted to challenge that, though.

Liviam, the person leading the attack on Jariyala taunted Callitri — leading to a battle. It was lengthy and tense, though the people on Crenat (where the battle took place) did not worry as they knew Callitri always came out victorious. And that she did, yet her power was stripped from her being. No more planets or supernatural life could be created, leaving the 27 planets to stand as they were.

There was another problem though. With the arrival of Liviam and her ‘minions’ from a different time line and dimension, it broke the time string in Jariyala. Time splits and threads connecting and straying from the planets were now visible. Although it created a fine piece of art, the time gaps were presumptuously dangerous.

What’s Vaularan and why is it important?

Vaularan is not technically anymore important than the other planets, though it’s the planet I’ve been putting the most care into. I don’t know why I’m so attached to it, I just am…

Who is Callitri?

A star. One singular star in an epitome of darkness. The only source of hope, the only light, the only life. This star developed for billions of years, until it finally exploded and a being was born. A woman. Long, white hair, pale skin, rose tinted cheeks. A radiating complexion, delicate features. She was Callitri.

Who are the Gods of Dochke?

Ah~ I couldn’t possibly answer this all in one post. Their lore and stories are so incredibly lengthy, I’d have to make a post for each individual God! In short, they are all ‘humans’ born from Solar matter. All of them contributed to the making of Jariyala, and each God has at lease one planet to their name. There are 11 Gods total. There is also a superstition with the people that the reason Jariyala was invaded was because they didn’t have an even number of Gods.

Why are you making a fantasy world?

To occupy myself for the next decade.

How long have you been doing it for?

Around 4-5 months. Not super long, although, I feel as if my progress in that time is quite commendable.

Do they speak English in Jariyala?

No. I am working on a universal language for them called ‘Faytir’.

How do you come up with names for planets, languages, people, etc.?

I’ll be honest… I just put a bunch of letters on a page and combine them together LOL. It usually comes out with a good name, though I should’ve really started the language first as I’ve made it harder for myself.

Are you going to turn the story of Jariyala into a book?

Hm. I have thought about it, yet I’m still not so sure. I think I’d have to really think about it. But, the chances of me doing so are low.

What made you want to start a fantasy world?

*Sigh*. I listen to a lot of ASMR boyfriend type audios on YouTube… yes, I know. It’s strange. But, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t of started doing this. There’s this one VA called @/zsakuva, his story audios are INSANELY good btw. He focuses more on lore and not gushy mushy romance, so I’d recommend checking him out! But, yes, Saku has been making his own world for 10 years I believe? And the amount of progress he’s made and the WORLD he’s made is fascinating. I was so unbelievably impressed with what he has done, and my mind was like ‘woahhh I wanna do that!’. So, here I am! Thank you, Saku! (If he for some reason sees this plsplspls I need another Xanthus audio… his story is so interesting!)

Do they have holidays like Earth do?

Yes! But, not like Christmas and Halloween and all the other corny, expensive holidays.

Each year, in June (I haven’t thought of names for months yet), they have the ‘Soldena Xyomen’ [pronounced sul•den•uh uhks•yo•men]. The Soldena Xyomen translates to ‘Summer Starting’ and the event is literally that. The Jariyalan’s LOVE soldena. The food, the dancing, the performances. Everything about soldena is exciting for them. So, the seventh Dochken God (Ywoei) decided to make it a holiday.

Another large holiday is the opposite of Soldena Xyomen, it’s Kaopana Xyomen (Winter Starting). Again, they love kaopana for the same reasons they love soldena. There are more holidays, but they’re still a WIP.

So, that’s all the questions I can think of for now! If anymore get asked, then I will add them to this list.

[lavendertune]

Ouf okay, let's do this (Part 1)

I typically write in Times New Roman or Calibri, simply because I enjoy the style of the font. I tried using other fonts but my eyes rebel against anything else than the aforementioned two.

I started by writing everything by hand! Back in school when I was bored I got out my pad and started scribbling, or when I was travelling too. Back then I didn’t have a laptop yet which ended in massive folders filled with my stuff. Once I got a laptop and realized editing and writing in general is much much easier on it I switched immediately and never returned lmao.

It’s terrible, actually. I have that little oriel in my living room with old furniture and a lot of candles. I typically sit down in my comfy round rattan chair, light the candles, turn on my playlist and start writing. The curse, though, is that I need absolute solitude. It’s hard for me when someone else is in the room or when there is another source of light/noise. This is making it really hard for me to write because I’m living with my partner and he usually spends his time in the living room.

Unecessarily. Uneccesariy. Unnecessarily. Gods, I always forget how to write it.

Idk if it’s superstition but you write better the more you travel. Going out, meeting people, seeing other places; It all gives you motivation and inspiration. Which is why I always take my laptop with me, no matter where I go.

Never getting to finish my novels. My original motivation came with an original idea I started writing years back, but playing FFXIV, falling in love with Zenos and starting “Like Fire and Ice” cut inbetween my original novels. I’m currently trying my best to “finish” “Like Fire and Ice” (although I have a lot more planned still) so I can start writing what I had originally planned.

Realizing that I’ve done that. It was me who wrote all of these words. All of these pages. And there are actually people out there who read it. Honestly, every comment I get on my stories makes me giggle like a little kid.

I’d probably choose to leave out the dialogue. You don’t have to let your characters speak to tell an interesting story, but without at least a little bit of action it would get too boring for me and possibly the reader. It would probably be something dark and mysterious, perhaps something about a cryptid.

Yepp. A 100% . Had my own experiences and have been working with the paranormal/occult for some years now. Also, I love Ghost Adventures and Sam&Colby.

Haunt me? No. If I found something disturbing or just straight up “bad” I cross it from my mind.

Hmn, not really. I do “love” to kill of characters, but only for character or plot development. My deaths are usually calculated. I may miss the characters but I do not grieve them for I know they achieved what they needed to.

Easy! Better concentration, more time to write and a better memory. Those are the three things always ruining my flow.

Hmn, good question. I don’t have a problem with any kind of topic thinking about. I usually make sure to do my research before writing about more sensitive stuff but it never bothers me. I don’t enjoy writing slice of life type settings though.

I do! And honesty, I don’t actually care if I get them back or not. I do have a handful of books I cherish and I wouldn’t hand out because I use them for inspiration or research, the rest on the other hand mostly just exists? I’ve read them, of course. But I rarely read books multiple times. I rather give them away to people who’ll enjoy the story and know I made someone else happy in doing so.

Never in my life would I butcher a book like this, heavens. It hurts me to see mistreated books, be it dog-ears or similar. Even worse are books whose pages have started to curl from moisture, which is why I would never read in the bathtub. We can still be friends, though know you leave a cut in the deepest parts of my soul.

You ask the guy with a sifter for a brain. Uff good question, I think it was a keychain? I honestly can’t remember.

*nervous laughter* Honey, you don’t want to open this box. To make a long story short, it’s more or less an enemies to allies to lovers with three different timelines. In these timelines I explore the different routes the relationship between my hero and my antagonist can take and the various outside influences that drive them to make certain decisions. It’s a fun way to bring light to different aspects to their characters and to show how the way people treat you can change your point of view and, ultimately, your decisions.

“Like Fire and Ice” – Accursed Bonds – Part Ten “I'm so tired.” “Then rest.” A quick noise of complaint comes from somewhere next to me but I don't have the strength to see who made it. All that's left for me to do is take a breath in as Zenos' arm gently lays over my back once the healing touch has faded. I expect it to hurt, but it seems like I've gotten too numb to feel a thing. And still the Garlean makes sure to move as carefully as possible as he slips his other arm underneath my thighs and lifts me up. “You are safe now, hero.” His strong arms cradling me, holding me close to his chest, I feel my heart explode. It's a warmth I haven't felt in years, a light I thought had left my world. Sighing quietly I open my eyes, leaning my weak head against his chest as I look out to the vastness of the Steppe, my eyes threatening to fall shut. It's sunrise. This was one of the scenes I had been looking forward to for ages. In it our hero is rescued by his friends together with the help of their enemy after having been abducted by a mysterious group currently terrorizing their allies. I actually got the idea from one of these “prompt-videos” on tiktok in which the beaten up hero stands in front of their enemy who asks them “Who did this to you?”. I loved this idea so much I somehow had to implement it into my story, but I at that point I was already too far into my storyline to add it. So I sat down and thought how to turn and twist it to make it fit. My first idea was to separate the two in one way or another, forcing my hero to face a different enemy on their own. Unable to come up with a good idea I chose to just keep on writing and so I did until I was presented with the perfect moment to implement it. At this point of the story my hero and his enemy had already begun to (although out of necessity) work together and had to spend a good amount of time travelling alone. Finally being fully confronted with the other they managed to find some sort of way to get along and actually started to bond a little. Still, my hero clung to the trauma and the pain his enemy had inflicted on him and thousands of others and pushed him away, forcibly building a wall between the two. His abduction, though, made him realize just how comfortable he had grown with his enemy. Even though part of him still hated that madman he couldn’t deny that there was something pulling him towards his enemy. During the days spent with his captors he was subject to torture and wilful neglect which in the end almost cost him his life. When his enemy finally had found him he snapped and ruthlessly killed the man that had tortured my hero, the rest of his friends and the other captors staring in horror at the scene. I wanted to show my characters and my readers just to what lengths his enemy would go to save my hero and also to open my hero’s eyes and admit his true feelings.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Man, this should have been done ages ago, but first lack of motivation, then two sicknesses kicked me in the head... Thank you @newtcatcher2091 for your infinite patience while I got my head in gear. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!

Continuity: RiD01

Characters: Rapid Run, Railspike, Midnight Express

In which Midnight Express and Rapid Run's beliefs clash

Requests | AO3

It was the beginning of the work day and Team Bullet Train were all done with their morning routine. Two of them… Rapid Run thought Midnight Express had been done long before he himself had been, but after Midnight had checked the weather forecast, he hummed with what sounded like disappointed concern before he darted off in a hurry. Rapid Run hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but it wasn’t until he and Railspike were waiting by the door for him that he began to wonder.

“Midnight, hurry it up!” he called out impatiently. “We don’t have to wait for you, ya know!”

“I know, I know!” their teammate called back, jogging out of his room to join them by the door, something small clutched in his hand. “Sorry, boys, I just had to make something real quick.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t set us back,” Railspike assured, turning and opening the door so they could head out single file.

And yet, even as they were trying to walk away from their living space, Midnight Express held them up yet again for a couple seconds as he hung up the small thing he’d been clutching. It looked cheap and tacky, whatever it was.

As they headed for the station to begin their usual routes, Rapid Run found himself growing annoyingly curious. He tried to ignore it at first. Midnight Express was just a weird mech at times. Whatever it was he was doing, it probably wasn’t anything Rapid Run would be interested in. But… “Okay, spill,” he eventually caved. “What were you doing after you saw that forecast?”

Lucky for him, Midnight was the type that couldn’t keep anything to himself. The mech latched onto practically any opportunity to talk about his niche interests. “Oh, you know how the weatherman reported that there was going to be a week of rain?” he started. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand rolling around on soggy tracks. So I made a teru teru bozu to try and bring back some sunny skies.”

“A what?” Railspike asked before Rapid Run could.

“Teru teru bozu!” Midnight Express repeated with that excited grin of his. “It’s a doll of sorts! Made out of tissue paper and marker. Humans hang them up outside to try and dispel rain.”

“Wait. Waaaait…” Rapid Run uttered with a squint. “I remember Koji talking about this sorta thing…”

“That’s precisely who I learned this ritual from!”

“It isn’t a ritual,” Rapid Run exclaimed with exasperation. “It’s a superstition! There ain’t any evidence that it works for real!”

“But plenty of humans do so!” Midnight argued. “So it must hold some merit.”

Rapid Run had been about to refute him, but Railspike cut him off. “Well, thank you for the sentiment, Midnight. Some drier tracks would be greatly appreciated.”

The youngest train spat out a scoff but ate his argument. The old mech was too encouraging with this sort of thing… If he kept tolerating this, Midnight Express would believe any wacky ol’ thing and maybe fall for some stupid scams in future. It was a slippery slope, for sure. Still, he supposed he could let this one go. A superstition to help with the weather couldn’t really hurt anything.

That had been the beginning of several encounters within the week that had led up to Rapid Run losing his cool. It had been infuriating, watching Midnight Express treat these superstitions he was learning like they were life’s gospel. What was even more infuriating was that some of them actually worked.

Such as one time where the youngest train had been nervous for an up-coming railway inspection at the end of the week. He’d been minding his own business, trying to keep a cool exterior, when his superstition-loving teammate peered at him analytically a moment before asking about whatever was the matter.

When Rapid Run had admitted to the anxiety running amok in his head, Midnight had held out his own hand and traced a character in his palm. “Draw this three times in your hand, then swallow it,” he instructed. “And after that, there’s a spot right here on your hand that you should rub for a minute or so.”

The youngest train squinted. It sounded intricately strange… “This is another one of your superstitions, isn’t it?”

“It’s worked for me,” Midnight defended.

“Primus dammit!” Rapid Run snarled, turning on his heel to storm in the direction of his room. “Get outta here with your stupid heresay!”

That said, when he’d reached his room and shut the door, he’d paused and turned his gaze down to his hand, contemplating. It was stupid… but it couldn’t hurt to try… and then once he proved that it didn’t work, he could shove that in his teammate’s face and get him to cut this scrap out.

And so, thinking about the up-coming event so that his anxiety returned, he drew the character. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then he brought his palm up his his mask and pretended to swallow the characters he’d drawn. And after he’d lowered his hand, he took a finger and rubbed the spot Midnight had showed him.

And as he rubbed, he felt his anxiety fade, replaced with a growing feeling of relaxation. And it was nice for a moment. But then he remembered why he’d been doing this in the first place and the relaxed feeling died in an instant, drowned out by indignant irritation that he’d been proved wrong this time. No matter… He wasn’t going to give Midnight Express the satisfaction of knowing he was right…

There had been plenty more instances that had irked the youngest train, but the straw that broke the camel’s back was when Midnight Express had asked him to stop whistling in their living space.

Once again, he’d been minding his own business, happily relaxing after a good day of work, and whistling a tune to reflect that. But paranoid Midnight… Noooo no, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. The middle-aged train approached him with a troubled look on his face.

“Rapid Run, I’m sorry, but I have to request that you kindly cease with your whistling.”

The youngest train shifted his attention to his teammate, furrowing his optic ridges. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s a lovely tune. But whistling indoors is a bit of a taboo. It attracts bad spirits, you see,” Midnight explained.

At that moment, the expression Rapid Run wore became almost thunderous. “No,” he stated firmly. “I’m not going to stop just because some paranoid freaks think that ghosts are going to haunt anyone who whistles inside.”

“But—”

“I was happy, Midnight!” Rapid Run snapped, clenching his hands into fists. “I was having a good time! And you ruined it with your stupid superstitions! AGAIN! That’s the seventh time this week!”

His teammate scowled back at him. “Well, I’m sorry that you feel like that, but the humans came up with these practices for a reason!” he argued back. “If they weren’t to be taken seriously, why would society in general practice them?”

“For fun or because of paranoia! There’s no scientific basis for it! You’re just seeing what you want to!” the youngest train snarled.

In the distance, there was the sound of approaching footsteps, though it was hard to hear them over the heated back and forth.

Midnight Express wasn’t having it, the stubborn, senseless jerk. He placed his hands on his hips and fixed Rapid Run with a firm glare. “You’re wrong and you’re just too blind to see it! These practices do have effects and no matter what you say, I will continue them! Maybe if you took them more seriously, you’d actually see the good it does to be aware of these things!”

Rapid Run felt something snap in his head. Reflexively, his hand reached out to snatch the item closest to him, a wrench as it turned out, and then without a second thought, he reeled his arm back and chucked it across the room at his teammate. “Tighten your lost screws!” he bellowed in finality as the wrench’s head nailed Midnight Express square between his optics.

As Midnight recoiled and clutched his head, the youngest bullet train froze as the authoritative voice of the oldest bullet train barked out, “Oi!”

He was in trouble. He was in trouble for sure. Although he was still furious, he tentatively shifted his gaze to rest on Railspike.

The old mech had his stern gaze firmly fixed on Rapid Run. “You. Go to your room and cool off,” the team leader ordered. “Now.”

A wave of shame flowing over him, the youngest bullet train lowered his optics to the floor and sullenly headed to his room. After shutting the door behind him, he flopped onto his berth and stared up at the ceiling, his fury gradually fading now that he and Midnight had been separated, guilt replacing it.

He was going to be punished for sure. And… he would deserve it. Yeah, Midnight Express had hacked him off too much, but… Rapid Run knew better than to let it make him lose his cool like that. He shouldn’t have thrown that wrench at his teammate. What if he’d seriously hurt him? He’d feel even worse… All over some stupid superstitions… It wasn’t worth it.

Rapid Run wasn’t sure just how long he’d been lying there, running through his mistake over and over in his head, but eventually the door opened, and Railspike stepped in. The youngest train sat up and turned to him as the door slid shut behind his leader. “Railspike, I’m sorry,” he offered before the older bot could say anything. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that, it just… it just happened before I realized…”

“Well, it’s all well and good that you’ve come to your senses, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” his team lead pointed out, placing his hands on his hips as he fixed Rapid Run with that same stern look from earlier.

The young train nodded solemnly and lowered his gaze to the floor. “…Is he hurt bad…?” he asked quietly.

There was a moment’s silence before Railspike answered with a mildly softer tone, “No. Startled and aching in the faceplates, but otherwise fine.” Though as he continued, his tone hardened again. “But this all could have been avoided. I mean, really… Bickering over some silly superstitions? Just let the mech believe what he wants! He ain’t hurting anybody with what he’s doing, ridiculous or otherwise.”

Rapid Run could only hang his head in shame.

“You don’t gotta believe in the same things he does, but the least you could do is humor him,” his team lead huffed. “Now, you’re gonna be a big bot about this. You’re gonna apologize to him, and you’re gonna make it right. I won’t be having this divide sit in between the team. Got it?”

“I got it, Railspike…” the young bot murmured meekly.

Lowering his hands to hang at his sides, the older train eased up and said, “Glad we understand each other.” Leaving it at that, he promptly left the room.

With the door shut to leave him in solitude once more, Rapid Run flopped back down on his berth with a heavy sigh. Just how was he going to make this up to Midnight Express…?

…Perhaps a bit of research and humoring was necessary…

Rapid Run spent the rest of the evening on his datapad, looking into potential ideas, and when he’d finally decided on one, he snuck out of the residence to secure a much needed item. The next morning was awkward, to say the least. Rapid Run and Midnight Express said nothing to each other as the team got ready for the day. Midnight wouldn’t so much as look at him. Yeah… The youngest train deserved that…

Doubts started flooding Rapid Run’s head as he worked throughout the day. The apology would understandably not be enough. Would what he had planned do it? Or had he just absolutely botched their friendship? Surely Midnight wouldn’t hold a grudge… right…?

Guess he’d just have to see.

The work day dragged on way too long. And luckily there were no Decepticon shenanigans that forced the two to come together in the middle of the day. When Rapid Run got back to the residence, he immediately made a beeline for the item he’d snagged the night before, then looked around for Midnight.

His teammate was in his room, as the youngest train discovered with a tentative knock at the closed door.

Midnight Express had opened the door, but when he saw it was Rapid Run standing on the other side, his expression noticeably soured. “Yes?” he urged impatiently.

The young train almost faltered and turned right around, but forcing his legs to lock themselves in place, Rapid Run did his best to meet his teammate’s harsh gaze with a humble one. “I… wanted to apologize for being an aft,” he started slowly, with as soft a tone as he could muster. “I still think not whistling indoors is silly, but I was the one in the wrong for badmouthing you all week. And I shouldn’t have yelled… And I especially shouldn’t have thrown that wrench… So… I’m really sorry, Midnight.”

By all means, Rapid Run didn’t think the apology would do much. But to his surprise, the sharp look on Midnight Express’ faceplates eased up considerably. He still wasn’t happy, but he did appear to be appeased.

“That’s very mature of you to say. And I thank you for your apology,” his teammate accepted. “In all fairness… I do suppose the whistling indoors thing is rather silly. I won’t be bothering you with that one again.”

“Thanks,” the youngest train said bashfully, awkwardly shuffling a bit as he worked up the courage to give his peace offering. “Um… I wanna let you know that… the calming thing you showed me? Where you swallow your anxiety? It… actually worked.”

This bit of news seemed to make Midnight perk up a little. “Oh. I’m glad to hear it. I honestly didn’t think you tried it.”

“I wasn’t really,” Rapid Run admitted, “but I did. And since it worked so well, I… um…” He cleared his throat and looked away as he held out his hand, a large magnifying glass held within it. “I got this for you…” he explained as the middle train took the offered item and looked it over curiously. “If it’s… alright with you… I was hoping you could maybe take me to go… hunting for lucky clovers? Y’know, for luck with the railway inspection. I figured you’d know the best spots to find ‘em.”

This seemed to work wonders. Midnight Express’ faceplates lit up with clear delight at the prospect of being asked to go clover hunting and show off his knowledge. “Well! Since you’ve asked so nicely, how can I refuse?” Physically turning Rapid Run around, Midnight began gently pushing him away from his room and toward the entrance to the residence. “Come on! We’ll go out now while there’s still light out. Sometimes these things can take hours. We should grab Koji, too, so he can get it pressed for you!”

Rapid Run voiced his surprised acceptance, but otherwise fell silent and let his teammate ramble and take the lead. Along the way, they passed Railspike seated in the main room, watching television. Though he looked up to catch Rapid Run’s optic, giving him an encouraging and approving smile as they passed.

Rapid Run simply gave him a small nod before turning his attention back to Midnight. Railspike was right, as usual. Having Midnight Express happy with his harmless fun was much better than getting the silent treatment out of him for putting his beliefs down. Rapid Run supposed he’d just have to keep an optic on Midnight’s superstitions and catch any real scams for him.

[kisshuhua]

BABYMONSTER - DRIP (Album Review)

Reviewed on November 11th, 2024

I promised and now I’m delivering it. The full review for this confusing clusterfuck of an album is finally here. I’ve always only been halfway enjoying this groups music because being frankly honest most of their songs are half actual music and half shouting random onomatopoeia trying to disguise itself as “rapping”.I’ve been putting off these review for a while due to a multitude of factors but given the group is finally performing on music shows now this would be a semi-good time. So without further ado, let’s get on to the first track.

DISCLAIMER: These songs are organized on the list in the order they come in the official digital album release, not in any other particular order.

1. CLICK CLACK

Remember that part at the beginning of the thread where I said Baby Monster’s songs are half just shouting random onomatopoeia and passing it off as rap? This is like that but on medical marijuana. It feels so fucking slow it’s irritating but the song is short so it feels like they’re singing super fast over a beat moving at a snail’a pace. I don’t know if the PR team at YG noticed yet but putting a vignette filter over your music video, wearing chains, and singing about how much money you have will not earn you brownie points from the black community, especially not me. And hey I’m not opposed to the existence of khh, k-rap, or krnb it’s just that this stuff is probably better done by Yoon Mirae or BIBI.

Overall: 5/10

2. DRIP

It’s honestly pretty okay and better than I expected (though that’s attributed to the fact my expectations weren’t that high). I must point out first before anything that one move in the choreo that makes them look like slugs trying to escape a salt pit is out of place and really not needed for a song of this kind though I enjoyed everything else. I actually really liked Ahyeon’s high note a lot here despite a lot of people not liking it. While we’re on the topic of her anyways I just wanna say her dancing isn’t as bad as before but it could just be better. Is this my favorite title track from the girls? Fuck no, and if I ever say it is just know that’s my evil clone created by the government. But I could definitely see this being on my playlist and I think Baby Monster’s music is actually getting way better than it was before.

Overall: 6.8/10 + 250 Royale High diamonds cuz I’m nice I guess

3. Love, Maybe

This song is pretty good and probably one of my favorites from the album. I don’t really like Ahyeon’s voice here bc she doesn’t really suit these slower BM songs but it’s minor enough to not hinder my enjoyment of it generally. This song is very Charlie Puth-y tbh and I wouldn’t be surprised if he sold his version to YG because he also had a demo version of Like That he ended up giving to YG. I’ve always been a fan of kpop ballads and even if they aren’t stellar I’d definitely still listen to them bc that’s just my type of music. I think it could’ve been developed more but it’s not bad in the slightest. Overall: 8/10

4. Really Like You

It’s the fourth song on the album and while the number 4 being bad luck doesn’t have much to do with this song being mediocre, it only strengthens my superstition. It sounds like Netflix theme song music which is something I thought I would never say about a song at all in my entire existence but alas. It’s just so ehh. I swear this sounded better when I was playing it in the shower. I tried to give it a few listens but I kinda got tired of it halfway into the second. Maybe the prepubescent girl audience of Baby Monster would appreciate this more than me and honestly more power to them because this song simply isn’t for me and I’ll leave it at that.

Overall: 4.5/10

5. BILLIONARE

Essentially Like That part two but without everything that made it likable. Jokes aside it’s just very nothing. I really expected this section to be longer but this is genuinely all I can say.

Overall 4/10

6. Love In My Heart

I remember when Forever came out and everyone talked about how much it sounded like a song from 2014 but I think that crown clearly belongs to this. The verse with Asa and Ruka would 100% be Pitbull’s. I think they really suit songs like this and should do more of them. Out of everything on the album I remembered this the most aside from CLICK CLACK. My only complaint is that like all the song sim this album it’s quite short. 3 minutes and about 13 seconds might not seem short to other people but even 25-30 more seconds for a proper outro would’ve been appreciated.

Overall: 8.5/10

7. Woke Up In Tokyo (Asa & Ruka)

I technically already did two reviews of this god awful song and this will make three.

First review I made after hearing the snippet https://www.tumblr.com/kisshuhua/764688388588765184/asa-ruka-of-bm-woke-up-in-tokyo-review?source=share Second review after hearing the full song https://www.tumblr.com/kisshuhua/766498492698050560/this-just-in-woke-up-in-tokyo-is-still-ass?source=share

But TL;WR, the song is awful because it sampled a children’s nursery rhyme of all things which if not anything this ruined it entirely and o won’t ever think otherwise.

Overall: 3/10

8. FOREVER

I would’ve reviewed this song when it was still popular but I had left that up to a poll competing with three other girl group songs at the time and Klaxon had won the poll instead . But really I think Forever is a pretty good song for BABYMONSTER standards. I liked it a lot when it was released this June and I still do now. I just wish it had a better outro because it was missing something in my eyes. But a lot of BM songs have these qualities so it’s not surprising

Overall: 8/10

9. BATTER UP (Remix)

I didn’t fucking like Batter Up when it came out last November what makes you think I’ll give this somehow worse rendition of the same song preferential treatment

Overall: LoveIslandUK/10

That’s all shuhoos. Thank you for reading and have a great rest of your day or night!

[boysplanetrecaps]

Build Up Episode 3: Hmm-cheat and Take Me Back in Time

Hello, chingoos! Welcome back to my always timely recaps of MNET’s Build Up. In the last one, we saw the battle of the SHINee songs. In this one, we’ll see pop go up against the classic ballad. Who will win? We’ll see! 

If you want to watch along, this link seems pretty good. This segment starts at 47:30. 

The two teams enter. They are:

Neon, left, and Seunghun.

Neon was on the Kajima Kajima (Don’t Go) team with Jeup and Donghun. I really love his sweet, smooth yet textured singing voice. 

Seunghun ranked quite low in the vocal check in, but was Top Tier after his performance in Every Moment of You. He’s a member of CIX, and is recently blonde. 

They introduce themselves as 7-23 because July 23 is Neon’s birthday and Seunghun’s debut date. That encourages the judges to reveal that three of them have the same birthday -- Wendy, Solar and Vocal Coach Guy were all born on February 21. That’s a weird coincidence!

Yoon Inhwan, left, and Ma Jaekyung. 

Yoon Inhwan is a ballad-singer and performed in Shall I Love You Again? in the first round. I’m not overly in love with his style of singing, which I recognize isn’t aimed at my tastes.

Ma Jaekyung was once in a group called Romeo (which has since disbanded) and he performed in Something Like That, a group that did really well so he was chosen as Low Tier almost by default. 

They introduce themselves as Balladream, because they’re ballad singers.

In the pre-performance banter, we find out that Neon and Seunghun picked Inhwan and Jaekyung because they thought they’d be easy to beat. 

How can they justify this? We flashback to the Rival Choosing Platform Area (RCPA), where Neon and Seunghun are waiting for challengers. They actually get two teams stepping up to challenge them: Team Inhwan and Jaekyung, and Team Pretty Blue Sweaters (Taehwan and Hong Sung Won, two personal faves). 

A lot of whispering takes place, and they decide to go with the team they think they can beat. Seunghun dives into what I think is meant to be good natured bantering, but it doesn’t quite come across that way, because the vibe is off.

Neon and Seunghun think their challengers look soft and gentle and think that to beat them, they themselves should perform a hip R&B song. The balladeers will be clean and pure, so they should be dirty. 

Seunghun’s Iron-Man heart is pulsing really hard, I guess. 

Seunghun thinks he can contribute rhythmic skills, by which I think he means dancing. They decide on a song by Crush, Hmm-cheat, that I tried to listen to but kept getting distracted by other things. It sounds like, what if Superstition by Stevie Wonder went through the wash. 

Ok, I’m going to do my best to evaluate this performance, even though I find the song quite dull. I really, really enjoyed Neon’s voice in the pre-4 mission so I hope he keeps it up!

Link to full version without reactions

My thoughts:

Wow, Neon has such a nice voice. It’s exactly suited for this kind of song. Smooth, clean, perfectly on pitch, with just a delicious vocal color. His is one of my favorite voices on the whole show. 

And, as happened with the people who sang with Jay in the first round, Seunghun’s voice suffers in the comparison to Neon’s. Can Seunghun sing? Sure, of course he can. He just sounds very breathy and nasal, with slight pitch issues here and there. Overall, he’s not terrible or anything, but he doesn’t sound as good as any of the singers from the first two songs.

I repeat my original comment: this song is sooooooo boooorrrrriiiinnnnnggggg ok thanks sorry if you like it 

In the MNET edit, we get to see how into it everyone else was. At one point, the guys go over to Dahee and sing right to her, and she gets up to dance.

It’s pretty cute. And apparently, once she’s on her feet, she stays there. 

The judges are on their feet too, dancing.

I love how game they all are!

There’s also a moment when one of the guys backstage says that Neon sounds like he’s American, and I think I get what they’re saying. Maybe that’s why I like him….?

When the song is over, the judges tease Dahee for her enthusiasm for a bit, then it’s time for the voting. 

Backstage, Jaekyung and Inhwan wonder aloud what score the other team will get. Jaekyung wonders if they’ll get another 97, and Inhwan says “They shouldn’t, but I’m worried they will.” I hate to say it, but I agree. Both of the performances we saw before this were better than this, and I say that as a big fan of Neon’s voice and as someone who likes CIX. 

We find out the vote. The highest is in fact 97 (Eunkwang)and the lowest is 86(Solar), and overall this seems way too high. 

Eunkwang tells them that it’s “like watching a professional performance,” which is a weird thing to say, given that one of them is a professional. Eunkwang heaps a lot of praise on Neon, which is very fair, but takes time to praise Seunghun as well. 

Solar says she liked the performance, but they seemed anxious, especially Seunghun. 

Wendy points out that Neon sticks his tongue out too much, and yeah, I agree. 

Seungkwan from Seventeen says he could never have fun like that on stage. I disagree! But ok. 

I just kind of wish that this wasn’t what they were talking about, though. This is supposed to be a vocal show, with a focus on vocals. It’s great if they have swag and are hip and wear baggy baggy baggy baggy baggy baggy jeans or whatever, but the point is supposed to be the vocals. 

Ok, it’s time for team pinky-beige, who vow to make the judges cry. 

We flashback to their planning meeting, which is taking place in, I don’t know, a church basement…?

They’re sitting on milk crates, you guys. What. Is. This. At least Inhwan has on a nice, if a bit plain, purple s w e a t e r.

They’re worried about their opponents, who both did really well in the first round. 

We learn that Inhwan really loves ballads, which he thinks of as a “5-minute movie about a break up.” Apparently, he busks all over, singing ballads.

I wonder if anyone watching the show is like, "wait, that guy who is always on that one street corner is on this show?"

He only wants to sing ballads, so he was glad to find Jaekyung, who also wanted to sing a ballad. He has a list of 60 possible songs, and Jaekyung picks one: Take Me Back in Time by Roy Kim. It sounds like every other ballad I’ve ever heard, and is, unsurprisingly, about a breakup. I know I might like the song a lot more if I understood Korean a lot better. 

So they rehearse! They rehearse in a utility closet!

They wear almost-matching blurry s w e a t e r s!

And now, they’re ready to perform. 

Here’s the version without the reactions. 

My thoughts:

I love the way he knows what he likes, and there’s something so charming about loving sentimental songs like this and just committing to it. I appreciate his strong sense of pitch and his clear and obvious power. I appreciate how “into it” he gets, to the point that when the song is over he has to sort of take a few moments to pull himself together and bring himself back to reality. It’s really sweet! I just don’t like his closed-sinus milk-voice sound, even though I think it’s just a stylistic choice. I don’t think I’ll ever jive with Inhwan’s voice, fam. Sorry if he’s your favorite!

I feel like Jaekyung’s sweet, round face matches his sweet, smooth, sweet voice. (I know in Korea, “small face” is a compliment, but to me, his facial shape is so charming!) His voice is maybe not unique, but it’s pleasant to listen to and I feel like he could match anyone. He’s a tiny bit nasal, and his vibrato is a tiny bit too wobbly for my taste, but I think that’s the genre. 

I can recognize that this is a skillful performance, even though I don’t know if I’d ever really ever jive with it on a personal level. I think if I were a judge, I’d give it to this team over the previous one because they displayed true vocal ability, but then again, Neon has my favorite choice among all four of these guys. Sigh. IDK. 

The MNET edit emphasizes, as usual, how good it is -- everyone’s closing their eyes and shaking their heads and even tearing up a little. When it’s over, poor Dahee is overcome. “Ottokay?” she mutters to herself. (kind of like, “what to do?” or “oh my gosh!”) I love how into it Dahee gets.

The judges were into it too, especially Eunkwang, who even wonders aloud if they ever saw these guys sing before. Baekho says he didn’t know they could be this good. That seems to be the overall feeling. 

Backstage, Neon is biting his nails. 

The score is revealed -- well, first we have one million “waaaa!” reactions -- and it turns out that their highest score is 100, and their lowest is 90. 

They can’t believe it.

Turns out that Jaehwan, ever the random element on the judging panel, is the one who gave the 100 points, and Solar gave the 90. 

Jaehwan says “It was the first song that touched my heart among the performances. There’s no need to say anything about your stage. It’s the kind of stage you’ll want to visit again when you get home.” 

VCG compliments their technique, especially Inhwan, who has great control over his dynamics. 

Seungkwan from Seventeen says that he noticed that Inhwan kept touching his chest. “It’s that little trembling feeling that comes out when you sing with tall your heart,” Seungkwan says. 

Solar says that she likes Inhwan’s “heavy” power, and gives Jaekyung some praise as well too. 

Eunkwang points out that they did a lot better this time than in the first mission, and “that’s the beauty of survival.”

It’s time for the two teams to find out their full scores and who won. 

Turns out that the ballad team got a total of 666 points, meaning that the five middle scores averaged out to 95. Neon and Seunghun got a total of 650 points, meaning that the five middle scores averaged out to 93. Both teams obviously did really well, but Team Ballad took the win this time.

Inhwan talks about how he doesn’t really have any experience on stage or on TV, and the judges are surprised, since he is that good. He says that his hands were shaking and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself. The judges wave that away and tell him he did great. They ask him, “are you a trainee?” and he says, “no I’m just a student who likes ballads.”

Aww, he’s so happy. It must feel amazing to have people like Wendy and Solar complimenting your voice. Yay!

So, that brings us to the end of the match! In the next one, we’ll have a face-off between Jay and Wumuti -- it’ll be a Boys Planet redux! See you then.