#the objects that i Think have powers unrelated to their object are:

[pinkleafsheep]

RALSEI THROWS HANDS THEORY

Right let's just jump in because I know how much this looks like a shitpost (because it half is one) but hear me out and you might buy it: (spoilers for chapters 3+4) every chapter up until now has had a secret boss, and each time a secret boss has been beaten you get a piece of equipment. These weapons and armors are usually the best available options for several chapters after you obtain them. However, due to the nature of this being an RPG, the standard weapons do slowly creep up in power, and after a few chapters they get replaced by non-secret boss weapons, take a look at susies Devilsknife, it's really good, boosting her in every stat, and reducing rude busters cost. However, as early as chapter 3, you can get weapons like the toxic axe, which while lacking a lot of benefits, does have a higher attack stat, and then the chapter after that, you get the absorb axe, which has an arguably better effect, and objectively MUCH higher attack. But in that same chapter, she can get a new boss weapon. The Justice Axe. And unlike the old boss weapon she had, this is something tied to Susies character arc and growth. Unlike every other boss weapon, except maybe the black shard, it's a weapon with a lot of narrative and emotional significance to it. For it to be eventually replaced wouldn't feel right. This is part one of my theory: this is Susies "ultimate" weapon. For those not familiar with the term, it's the end point of the aforementioned growth for weapons. In jrpgs these are the weapons that you go through an ordeal to get, and then never unequip due to them being the objective best weapon for that character. I think from this point forward, secret bosses will be how these ultimate weapons are granted. And if you know the secret boss weapons we have access to so far, the next one about to be powercrept, is Ralseis puppet scarf. Ralseis puppet scarf is really, really bad. It sacrifices a lot of his ability to heal, the role you need him to fulfill the most during the hardest fights, in order to make him be able to do more damage. This is something that is unneeded in nearly every situation, as Susie alone has high enough DPS that it's not a worry for the team, and when it's not enough, Kris closes the gap easily. Sacrificing the healer for such a nothing benefit is really weird for what's meant to be a big reward, especially compared to the dealmaker you give up and the other 3 secret weapons.

Attacking is Ralseis weakest aspect as a party member. It's almost as useless as, say, Susies healing. Oh. Wait a minute. After a certain learning experience, that healing spell is actually a good option in a pinch. huh. Unrelated, but Ralsei as a character has a big glaring character flaw that's been directly pointed to by several characters at this point; he's a doormat. He completely accepts the fact that his life is meaningless outside of helping Kris and Susie, and doesn't command any respect even from his so called subjects. This is a trait of his that is being actively challenged, though he still has a lot of room to grow in regards to it. He also actively dislikes fighting, as seen with the dialogue when he equips the puppet scarf: "If I have to fight...". He doesn't want to fight, and only does so out of necessity, and even then reluctantly. But he'll soon need to fight, if the Knight and Titan battles are anything to go off on. I think this character flaw will be dissected and overcome in the next chapter via the secret boss, in the same way Susie learnt to overcome her flaws with Gerson. It'll be something Ralsei has to learn to fight for, making his attacks something capable of dealing more serious damage, I imagine around the level of Kris, or maybe even with fire magic be another Rude Buster option. He's due next for a secret boss weapon upgrade, is being prepped to tackle his weakness, and now that things have gotten as serious as they are, nows the time for him to fight.

[evilmenenjoyer]

Punishment

Pairing: professor Hwang In-ho x student fem!Reader

Summary: You find a creative, albeit unconventional way to get out of the trouble you're in at university.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: sexual content (minors dni), age gap (legal, reader is implied to be in her early to mid 20s), spanking, corporal punishment, masochism, power dynamics, crying, unresolved sexual tension.

–––

You can tell something’s off the second you walk through the door, when your cheerful “Hello, Mr. Hwang!” is met with a short, courteous “good evening” from the professor.

It’s not rude. It’s not even particularly harsh. It just lacks the usual warmth you’ve come to expect from him, the tiny smile on his lips that always greets you.

Being called to see the strict Mr. Hwang In-ho after class usually meant bad news, leaving most students nervous about what they could’ve done wrong. But not you. You’ve lost count of how many times you stayed in this classroom for hours after class was over, discussing a book he had assigned for class or literature in general. Some days you’d help him grade tests and homework, when you noticed he had too much work on his back. And some days, the ones you cherished the most, you’d talk about things unrelated to class or literature – politics, your interests, your personal life. His personal life.

Saying you were smitten with him was the understatement of the century. You tried not to pay much attention to the crush you developed on him, hoping it would go away if you just ignored it for long enough, but it only seems to be getting stronger.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask, closing the door. It’s generally frowned upon for a student to be alone with a professor with the door closed, but Mr. Hwang never objects. The fact that he’s willing to bend the rules for you pleases you a little too much.

“Yes.” His tone is the same as before, not softening now that it’s just the two of you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you wonder what is it that’s got him in such a bad mood, if something happened in his life. “I have something to show you.”

He pulls out a piece of paper, setting it on his desk facing you. You approach, your footsteps slightly more hesitant than usual around him.

“Do you recognize this passage?” he asks, pointing to the highlighted paragraph.

You lean in to read it, an analysis of the similarities between classic English and South Korean literature. You recognize it immediately.

“I wrote it. That’s from my latest assignment.”

“Yes.” He’s still not looking at you, rummaging through a pile of papers. Did he not like the assignment? The thought alone upsets you. You worked so hard on it; not only for the sake of keeping your straight-As, but also to impress him. Maybe even more so to impress him. “How about this one?”

He sets another sheet of paper in front of you, one of the paragraphs highlighted in his same blue marker.

As you read it, your stomach immediately drops. It’s your paragraph, almost word-by-word, with a few differences that are too minor to even count.

“This is from Emily Jones’s paper. I believe the two of you are friends.”

You want to find Emily and strangle her. You told her to change stuff and not just copy from you. Did she really think someone like Mr. Hwang wouldn’t notice? That he’d just let it slide?

“I was the one who wrote the original,” you say. “I didn’t–��

“Oh, I know that. I’m very familiar with your writing style, and Ms. Jones isn’t nearly as gifted as you. I knew something was wrong the second I read it.”

You could play the victim, say Emily copied from you without your knowledge, but you know instantly it wouldn’t work, not with Mr. Hwang’s dark eyes right on you. Even when you’re not in emotional distress, the man can read you better than anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” You lower your gaze in shame. “Emily needed help, and I– she’s in the same exchange student program as I am, I know how much she needed the grade.”

“You could’ve helped her study, not let her copy off you.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time. She came to me last-minute.”

He sighs. “Well, I will have to fail both of you.”

“What?” It should be expected, but the words still sting. He knows how hard you work for your good grades. “But my essay was good.”

“It was great. Worthy of an A, if only you hadn’t helped another student with plagiarism. In fact, both of you should be reported for it.”

“Mr. Hwang, please.” Your eyes are practically begging him for mercy, the pitch of your voice getting ever so slightly higher as your desperation grows. “I can lose my scholarship and my spot at the exchange student program. Do you want me gone?”

You can see something flash across his eyes – regret, maybe, or perhaps that warmth you’ve been missing since you walked in here –, just for a split second before they’re back to normal, even more hardened than before.

“Cheating was your choice, not mine. You should’ve thought of the consequences.”

“What if– what if I wrote a new paper?” you bargain. “For half the grade. I can get it done in just a couple of days!”

“The paper is not the point. The point is how my most promising student would waste her talent to help a classmate cheat, and betray the trust I put in her.”

The praise doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it fades away so quickly, like trying to hold on to smoke.

“It was a mistake. One that won’t happen again.”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. ____.”

You watch helplessly as he gathers the papers and organizes them back into a folder, the muscles of his arms tensed. He looks angry, but also upset. Disappointed. That sends you into an even bigger panic than a bad grade, or the potential of losing your spot at this university. It grows inside your chest, overwhelming, prompting you to say possibly the worst thing you could’ve come up with in this situation.

“What if I just take a whooping?”

He pauses. For a moment you’re both silent, still as statues as you process your own words, what you just asked for. Heat rises to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“What?”

You want to run away from this classroom. You want to go to the airport and take the next plane back to your country, classes and scholarship be damned.

However, now the words are already out, hanging heavy between the two of you. You can’t just back down, show him you spoke without thinking. You force yourself to nod, praying to the gods of every religion you know that your cheeks aren’t red enough that he can notice it.

“Yeah. It’s a good punishment,” you say. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because we are not in the 1930s.”

“You know in a lot of places corporal punishment in schools is still legal.”

“And Seoul isn’t one of them.”

“Please, Mr. Hwang.” You lower your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to rush to the surface. “I know what I did was wrong. But I’d never– willingly betray your trust. I just want to get my punishment, and for things to be back to normal.”

Above all, you want him to stop looking at you like he is right now. Like you’re just any other student, like he doesn’t admire you for your passion and intelligence. Like you haven’t been spending almost every evening after class with him instead of hanging out with your classmates, trying to make friends your own age. Like you don’t mean anything to him.

Mr. Hwang regards you for several long moments. You try to hold his intense gaze, to figure out what he’s thinking, but both tasks are impossible.

“Would you really put yourself through that for a grade?” he asks.

You shake your head slightly, but that stubborn determination doesn’t leave your eyes. “It’s not just a grade.”

His respect for you. The friendship you two have tentatively built over the past few months. That’s what you truly fear losing.

The seconds tick, stretching for so long it feels like torture. It’s so silent in the room you wonder if Mr. Hwang can hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Okay,” he says finally, sharply. “Fine.”

“Really?” You’re unable to keep the surprise from your voice, from your face, even though you try.

“If you think you can take it.” Something about his voice as he says it, the low baritone of it, sends a new rush of warmth to your body; this time descending directly between your legs. 

“Of course I can.”

No, you probably can’t, and you’re well aware of that. But his words sound like a challenge, and a feeling claws at your chest – perhaps your pride and stubbornness, or simply embarrassment, or something else entirely that you’re not sure how to name – stops you from taking the words back.

“Alright then.” He gives a short nod, and you’re unsure if it was meant for you or for himself. “Bend over the desk.”

Why is it that a simple order for him makes your insides twitch like you’re about to pass out? Your legs shake as you take a step closer to his desk, looking down at the papers and folders neatly on top of it. Drawing in a breath, you bend your upper body down until your elbows touch the dark wood.

It’s only then that you notice your compromising position. Emily had joked with you about how the length of your skirts had gotten shorter with every visit to Mr. Hwang, and today’s pick was a plaid skirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination as it was. With you bending down like this, you can feel the fabric follow the movement, exposing even more of you to the professor.

The noise of his belt being removed only makes it worse. You shut your eyes, trying not to picture him letting his pants drop to the floor, trying not to think about how much you wish this is what was happening.

“Are you ready?” he asks, giving you one last chance to back down. You should take it.

You shut your eyes and nod your head. "Yes."

There’s a whistle in the air, and you let out a gasp as the first blow lands across your ass. Fuck. You’d seen it coming, and the fabric of the skirt absorbed much of the impact, but it still spreads the first hints of pain over your skin. Another blow directly under the first one, exactly where it should be. You clench your jaw, your mind flying back to childhood memories, to the last spanking you received at eleven years old – well over a decade ago, and yet you feel much more helpless now, a third blow of the belt making you jump in your spot.

The next one breaks the pattern, hitting on a diagonal angle right on top of the other three. It’s harder than the others too, sharper, slicing even deeper into your already stinging skin. You cry out, unable to hold it back, unable to catch your breath in time not to cry out again when the belt comes down on your ass one more time.

He sets a rhythm of harsh, punishing blows. They’re precise and calculated, deliberate, like he really means each and every one of them. Of course he does – when Professor Hwang sets his mind to something, he doesn’t quit until the job is done, down to the littlest details. And right now, he seems intent on making sure no spot of your ass is left untouched by the belt. He gradually picks up speed, until you’re unsure when one strike ends and the next begins.

It fucking hurts. It hurts so bad you don’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed when the fabric of your skirt slides up and out of the way, leaving your bottom and your underwear exposed to him.

The pain is even worse when the leather belt makes contact with your bare skin; sharp and blazing hot, like he’s setting fire to you. You’ve bitten the inside of your lip hard enough to draw blood, but that doesn’t stop the sounds being ripped out of you, whimpers and cries and something that sounds way too close to Mr. Hwang’s name.

He pauses, his breaths heavy behind you. You collapse against the desk, elbows no longer strong enough to keep you propped upwards. With your ear pressed against the surface, you can hear your own heard that thumps wildly inside your chest, all your senses concentrated into a single point in your body.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks.

His tone isn’t judgmental, but your mind still echoes his words from just a few minutes ago: if you think you can take it. You’re not giving up now.

“I’m fine,” you snap, way too breathless for the statement to have any real impact, although your stubborn defiance is certainly there. “Just fucking finish it.”

His hand, warm and broad, finds its way in between your shoulder blades. He leans in, puts his weight into it, keeping you firmly pressed down over the desk. For some reason, your instinct isn’t to squirm away but to push into the heat, but you can’t move much one way or another under his grip.

“Then stay still.” His voice is so much closer to you, making you wish you had the strength to lift your head up and chase for his eyes.

Half a breath after the words are out, he strikes you again; this time with his other hand.

You sob and buck against the desk, the legs of it scraping against the floor. You can’t tell if his palm is better or worse than the belt. The pain isn’t as biting, but it’s broader and warmer, sending more fire into your already burning flesh. And it’s then that you realize you’re pushing into it, arching your back as best as you can, tilting your ass up to meet the assault. Basically offering it on a silver platter, presenting it to him and his ferocious, punishing hand.

And you’re wet.

You can feel it soak your panties, so much that you’re sure Mr. Hwang will be able to see a wet spot on them if he looks for it. Humiliated tears rise to your eyes, leaving you in a tumbling sob, desperately seeking relief but not wanting this to ever stop.

“M-Mr. Hwang.” The next strike hits you way too close to your core, the tiniest bit of friction that feels like heaven. You hiccup another cry, tears falling down and pooling over the smooth surface of the desk. “Please, I–”

You don’t even know what you’re pleading for anymore, but the word continues to leave your lips, over and over. His fingers come down hard over the sensitive spot where your ass meets your thighs, and you wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you – if he knows you’re on the brink of an orgasm just from this, that if he touches over you even for one second it might be enough to push you over the edge. He keeps going, alternates between one cheek and the other, his open palm covering as much skin as it can.

His hand travels down lower once again, warming your thighs to the same blistering heat as your ass. “God,” you breathe. You hadn’t noticed how hard your fingers are gripping the edges of the desk, your knuckles white, as if holding on could somehow save you.

He pauses again, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed. You feel yourself throb inside your panties, wet and hot and neglected.

“Count them,” he orders.

You wince as his hand hits a sore spot, on top of skin that had already been hit too many times. “O-one.”

He lashes again and again.

“Two, three– fuck! F-four– fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t count anymore.” You’re unable to think straight at this point, unable to do anything other than cry and feel and want.

“God,” he sounds wrecked as well and you can’t understand why; you’re the one who feels as if you’re fighting for your life. He watches you, and you can’t decide if you’re embarrassed at your own state, the tears on your face and your ass that’s probably bright red by now, exposed to the professor, or if you’re too desperate for a release to think about that.

“It’s okay.” His hand lands on your hip, but doesn’t strike you again. It only caresses, his touch feather-light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh blows. “You did good.”

The light touch is enough to make you moan, breathing a deep sigh of relief. His touch feels unintentional, like he’s mesmerized, not fully aware of what he’s doing as he simply as he tries to ease the sting from the spanking. But when he drops down to press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his body heat enveloping you – that can’t be accidental.

You lean into his touch as best as you can, and that’s when you feel it; something hard press against your core through layers of clothing, his cock a perfect, undeniable point of heat against you.

Both of you let our a simultaneous moan when you rub yourself back against his length. You want nothing more than for him to split you open, to push into you without a warning, without giving you time to adjust. Not that you’d last a long time, but you’d let him keep thrusting into you, having his way with your body until he was satisfied.

His hand slides under your bodies, inside your underwear.

“In-ho,” you sigh, a weak sound.

The sound of his name seems to pull you from whatever trance he’s stuck in. He stops, fingers just inches from your clit, like he’s only just realizing he’s on top of a student in his classroom. You try to lift yourself up, to rub against him again, but he doesn’t move.

He pulls away from you, and you feel like you could cry again in sheer desperation. Instead, you just stay there against the desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.

After a few moments, he lifts you up gently by the arms, turning you around to face him. He smooths out your sweater, but he doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

“You can go now, Ms. ____.”

You look at him in disbelief – first at his face, then at the tent that’s still very much apparent at the front of his pants.

“But–” you stammer. “Don’t… don’t you want me to–?”

He’s back in professor mode, organizing his papers that had turned into a mess. Still not fucking looking at you. His hair, usually neatly combed back, is now all over the place, and he looks like he’s about to break down himself.

“I’ll take care of the… assignment issue,” he says. “Go back to your dorm. It’s getting late.”

You don’t dare to disobey, even when tears rush to your eyes once again. Maybe it was all just about the assignment to him, and you got it all wrong. Or maybe – the thought hurts before it’s even fully formed in your mind – he regrets everything you’ve done.

It’s a short walk to your dorm, and you’ve never been more grateful that your roommate is not around. You throw yourself into your bed, hissing as your ass lights up in pain. It brings up all the memories back at once; the crack of the belt in the air, his warm hand stinging on your skin, the outline of his cock pressed against you.

You’re still soaked when you bring your own hand past your skirt and into your panties, not bothering to actually take them off. Two fingers slide inside, instantly finding a spot that melts your insides and makes you clench around yourself. Your other hand grips your own hip, intensifying the pain there.

“Mr. Hwang,” you moan, just to say it out loud. Your thumb brushes over your clit, just a hint of a touch and you’re gone, coming so fucking hard around fingers you do your best to pretend are his instead of yours, just at the thought of him doing this to you.

You come down slowly, so dazed you can barely open your eyes, but it doesn't bother you. Your ass has gone from searing hot to a dull, lingering ache, sure to keep you hurting for days to come. Good. You fall asleep thinking about it, thinking of his voice and his hands on you, trying to live in those moments for as long as you can.

[aventurineswife]

(Ignore this if its already been done)

Okay, either nobody has asked about this yet, or I just haven't check correctly, with all the child related asks you'd think at least one of them would ask, talk about, or at least inform about the knowledge of the Palmar Grasp Reflex with babies.

Apparently-*Slips on my prescribed glasses, holding up an AI Overview Google Search*

'A baby's grip is surprisingly strong, often powerful enough to support their own body weight due to a reflex called the palmar grasp reflex, which causes them to instinctively clench their fists when something touches their palm; this means they can hold onto a finger or object with significant force, even as newborns'

Hm...-*Throws away Google Search and slips off glasses*

So, how exactly do you think the characters of your choosing would handle a situation where their offspring were to hit them with the Palmar Grasp Reflex? I have seen in several different cases of babies grabbing their own hair and crying because they were hurting themselves, grabbing other people's hair, and not letting go- facial hair included, along with suddenly grabbing at food- that was not for them, mind you, and succeeding in such an excavation.

It can be hilarious, really.

Caught in a Love Snare

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff & Humor, Established Relationship, Parenthood, Baby Shenanigans, Soft Domestic Moments, Mild Angst (if you squint), Cuteness Overload.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Mild language, Crying baby (because, well, babies) (?), Brief moments of baby-induced pain (hair pulling, face grabbing, etc.), Minor frustration (parenting is tough but rewarding!).

Ratio prided himself on his intellect, but he hadn't accounted for the sheer, unrelenting will of a newborn. He sat beside you, cradling your infant in his arms, watching as the tiny hands explored the world—or, more specifically, his hair. The moment those soft fingers brushed against the violet strands draping over his eye, they clenched with the force of a scholar gripping onto forbidden knowledge.

"Hah." He smirked, attempting to gently pry his hair free. "It seems our child has an appreciation for the finer things in life. My brilliance must be genetic."

The baby cooed, eyes gleaming, and pulled tighter.

Ratio's smirk faltered. "Ah. Alright now—" He tugged lightly, but the tiny fist held firm. Your laughter didn't help his predicament.

"Maybe they just like the texture?" you teased, brushing your fingers against the baby’s cheek.

"Or they simply wish to test my patience," he mused, now strategizing an escape plan.

In the end, your intervention—combined with a careful distraction using a soft cloth—saved his dignity. But as he adjusted his ruffled hair, Ratio swore he saw a glimmer of triumph in your baby's gaze.

Aventurine had danced with fate more times than he could count, but nothing had prepared him for the steely grip of his own child. He was reclining on the couch, your baby resting on his chest, his signature smile ever-present.

"See, sweetheart, life’s a gamble, and you’ve gotta know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em—ow, ow, ow—!" His smooth words devolved into a choked laugh as tiny fingers latched onto the choker at his neck, yanking with surprising strength.

You snickered from the doorway. "Looks like someone’s not letting you fold."

He shot you a look of mock betrayal. "Darling, I believe our child has inherited your ruthlessness."

The baby gurgled in response, gripping tighter.

Aventurine gently pried at the tiny fingers, but his precious accessories weren’t so easily relinquished. "You know," he mused, "I’d almost admire this tenacity if it wasn’t threatening my windpipe."

It took both of you distracting the baby with a jingling bracelet before he was freed. As he adjusted his ruffled outfit, Aventurine let out a breathless chuckle. "A fine strategist already. I'll have to stay on my toes."

Boothill had faced bounty hunters, galactic enforcers, and IPC hit squads, but nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the iron grip of your infant. The cowboy sat with the baby nestled against his chest, cooing at the little one as they waved their tiny hands.

And then one small fist shot out and latched onto his scarf.

"Well, hell. Lil’ rascal’s (idk how to translate this into Boothill's language, sorry y'all) got a grip like a vice."

You chuckled from beside him, watching as he tried to gently tug his prized accessory free. "Guess they take after their daddy."

"Darn straight." Boothill grinned, though the slight strain in his voice betrayed the battle he was waging. "But if they don't let go soon, I might be goin' down as the first cowboy taken out by a baby."

The baby babbled, seemingly pleased with their victory.

Boothill sighed, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck entirely, much to the little one’s delight. He leaned back, shaking his head with amusement. "Guess I ain't winnin' this one. Ain't no shame in concedin’ to a worthy opponent."

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Get used to it, cowboy. They’ll be running the show soon enough."

He chuckled, eyes soft as he watched the baby clutch his scarf. "Reckon I don’t mind one bit."

[simp4katsuki]

Headcanon that even though Toshinori is weak, he’s fast. That razor sharp gaze never slowed, his reflexes haven’t dulled with age or illness.

Everyone forgets this, of course. How could they not? He’s a different person nowadays, even though he really, actually isn’t. people know that he’s All Might, but they look at him and honestly see a completely unrelated person. He’s separate. He’s not the same.

So it’s only natural that sometimes they kind of, sorta, almost forget. Forget that he was the strongest hero of his time, that he could and did change the weather with only a swing of his powerful fist. That his mere existence kept crime and violence at a historical low, ushering in the longest era of peace since quirks dawned.

Oh sometimes though, sometimes, they’ll get a reminder. Bakugou will throw a pen at the back of his head in class when the man is turned around lecturing and Toshinori, without pausing for breath, without even a hitch in his perfect script, will snatch it out of the air and have it hurdling back even faster and so, so much harder before they know what happened. The class notices, and takes turns testing it on occasion. They forget the least of all, and Midoriya, he never does.

He’s sturdy, too. Toshinori may pay a higher tribute to a willow tree than his own youth nowadays, but he doesn’t get knocked on the ground. It’s something in his unbreakable stance, how he still holds himself like a 300 lb immovable object, like he forgets that his body has changed. The other teachers see this and realize that in his prime, All Might wasn’t always standing due to strength, but sheer insurmountable skill.

I like to think that rarely, during administrative meetings, Toshinori will begin speaking in his thundering voice like a leader again, slipping into that persona when he needs to be firm, and the other pros will go cold with the reminder. Subconsciously they will bend their opinions under that voice, instinctually following it like they did in times past.

Kind hearted, cold blooded Toshinori Yagi.

[traincat]

hey! how r u! idk if anyone’s asked this before but I wanted to know ur thoughts on johnny canonically having a good singing voice, p sure he’s described as “having the voice of an angel”!

and if you had any spideytorch fics based on this?

Can Johnny Storm Sing is one of the greatest Marvel mysteries of all time for me and I am not even remotely joking. Not even a little bit.

Walk with me here.

Johnny having "the voice of an angel" and being the best singer out of the Fantastic Four comes from Fantastic Four (2018) #1, the first issue of Dan Slott's run:

Unrelated but I'm still unfortunately a "Dan Slott was setting up canon JohnnyWyatt and Marvel said no" truther.

Important for our analysis: Johnny is the best singer in this particular group, not necessarily objectively a good singer. Ben does say he has the voice of angel though. That we cannot deny.

And yes, Johnny had a brief career as a pop singer in Robinson's run.

(Fantastic Four (2014) #1)

"Storm Warning." Okay buddy. The decision to become a pop star was hastily made at a barbecue on the moon after his singer girlfriend dumped him for Ant Man.

(FF #16)

Does it matter. Good question!

Sidenote: this is such a tiny detail that it doesn't matter at all, but Wyatt being both the person to be like "can you sing" and one of the people saying Johnny's the best singer of the group the above issue is one of those little comics contradictions that annoys me. Whatever. I'm actually inclined to side with Slott here solely because I, unfortunately, think he's a stronger Johnny writer than Fraction.

Anyway, "does it matter," not really actually, because Johnny's entire tour is canceled after he loses his powers in Robinson's run.

(FF (2014) #8) "The world already has more blond pretty-boy singers than it needs. They wanted more than that from you." Haha. I'm sure that won't set off any negative spiraling from a character who thinks he's nothing without his powers. We have fun here in Johnny Storm fandom.

If I'm looking at this objectively, I think there's a pattern here that follows Johnny's similarly short-lived acting career, where he repeatedly froze on the set of his gay cowboy movie, The Rawhide Kid.

(Listen. The Rawhide Kid wasn't canonically gay when Johnny was cast to play him in a movie. He WAS declared canonically gay in a miniseries that was released a handful of months later. I just want to talk, Marvel.)

It's not that Johnny is necessarily a bad actor, so much as that he's extremely self-conscious. He would freeze on set, forget his lines, get frustrated, etc. (There was other stuff going on, but I think it's fair to say he wasn't comfortable in the role of a movie star.) But he can play an undercover role fine enough. So the issue isn't acting itself, but the context. I imagine singing might be the same. Johnny might sing fine at karaoke with Jen and Wyatt, or with his family, but in front of a hundred thousand screaming strangers? He's going to rely on his image as the Human Torch first, and any talents separate from a fire show after that. Take away his powers and he probably can't muster the stage presence needed to be a global pop star.

(Marvel Knights 4 #1) "Johnny, you're good-looking, sure, and you can fly -- no one's arguing with that -- but you can't sing, you can't dance, and you can't act."

Johnny's grown now, but he's always going to be the kid who actually wanted a secret identity somewhere deep down.

(Strange Tales #106)

It's going to be a long fifteen years of zero privacy, Johnny.

Subjectively speaking: I truly and honestly believe Johnny has an annoying voice. That doesn't negate him from being a good singer, necessarily -- it could just be his speaking voice. But I believe sincerely that his voice is annoying. Thanks for backing me up on that one, Marvel Rivals. (I'm saying this with nothing but pure and true love.)

But honestly nothing I just said matters. Because of this. The piece de resistance when talking about Johnny Storm and singing.

With infinite weariness. This one's for you, Melinda.

[fluoresensitives]

hi yah yah! have you read any good horror lately? I always love your book recs. unrelated to horror but I’m currently reading the fifth season bc I remember you mentioning it a while back and it’s so good!

oh! I've read a few bangers last year + this year! (Also yes, I need more people to be Fifth Season pilled, you all need to know the glory of essun and alabaster, of orogenes!)

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin; in a post-apocalyptic landscape where a disease/mutation turns men into monsters, two trans women navigate a world that's getting uglier and meaner towards them. Literally so good and Felker-Martin deals with everything with a carefulness/coolness, but of course she does, she's a trans woman as well

PTSD Radio by Masaki Nakayama: horror manga! I kept reading it at night, which was an mistake. There's a cursed object, strange things happening with hair. Not surprised the author wanted to stop writing it because it was upsetting him.

Chlorine by Jade Song: I know I have a letterboxd list that says life would be safer if we encouraged teenage girls to do sports, but this book proves me wrong. A teenage girl in sports is dangerous, especially if she's being isolated by her abusive couch and becoming obsessive about winning and the attention of one of her teammates

Failure to Comply by @librarycards: I don't say this just because I'm friends with Cav, but this is quite literally one of the best horror-scifis I've read in a while. Set in a dystopia that prizes conformity, wellness and sameness, it's about embracing your "sickness", your disabilities and "disfigurements". Obsessed with it, literally recommended it to Chana Porter because I thought she'd love how it matched the vibe of "The Seep" and "The Thick and The Lean"

Full Immersion by Gemma Amor: A severely traumatized woman steps into a virtual therapy world to unlock the hidden parts of her psyche. Very interesting, with some twists that surprised me big time!

Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang: Many books to me feel like the daughters of "The Uglies" by Scott Westerfield, but this one is like, thee daughter to me. It's about an Asian American woman working at this wellness/beauty store that's doing extremely weird racist, eugenics things with their products. So unsettling, so odd. I thought it was a little like the substance, the body horror aspect at the end. So lovely!

Orpheus Builds a Girl by Heather Parry: inspired by a true case in which a white man stole and used the body of a latino woman, when I say a book hasn't made me so nauseous and angry but also intrigued. It's the way the book is very clear with you about the man's racism and fascism, and how white people around him assume the best/assume love out of his mummification and parading of this dead woman's body. It's so eerie. And if you read the reviews, it makes it all the eerier, how white people will see romance in the most violent of racist acts.

Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman: A disgraced knight, a little girl and a fallen priest walk into a black plague...no, but seriously, if I ever stop talking about Between Two Fires, assume I'm dead. One of the best horrors I've read, so so SO good.

Our Share of the Night by Mariana Enriquez: A man with a dark and dangerous power and his son trying to avoid/escape the clutches of a violent, exploitative system. Absolutely beautiful and the way everything goes together, even things you didn't think mattered much. Fantastic, I'll take fourteen more.

Victorian Psycho by Virginia Feito: A governess with a weird past moves into another family. It reads like an actual Victorian penny dreadful and it's AMAZING!

[cryptotheism]

Thank you. I'm going to default to "break a leg" for my well-wishes, given how, well, *theatrical* you are.

Where does S.T.A.L.K.E.R.'s (the FPS) power armor fall on Serpentrias' Rig taxonomy? If you're unfamiliar, they're essentially contemporary lifting frames interwoven with heavy combat armor. The arm-armatures absorb recoil, and they may read brain activity to coordinate movement, but there's no canonical statement either way afaik.

What is the oldest surviving artifact in Amber Skies, and what is the oldest surviving object from the 21st century? (Assuming it's not the (Morris) Worm's Disk.)

What's the most common power source in the Burning Horde?

Do chili cheese fries exist, and if so, how many variants are there?

And, on average, do you mind/how do you feel about "how would (popular character/alien species) fit into Amber Skies?" questions?

Finally, unrelated to Amber Skies, have you played Deep Rock Galactic, and if so what do you think of it?

STALKER armor would be like, a pretty standard if outmoded midgrade rig. The equivalent of an amber monitor PC. A clunky yet functional model from 100 years ago.

I won't tell you.

A complex ultra-dense hydrogen-based combustive fuel cultivated by shepherding communities along the trade routes.

All the ingredients for chilli cheese fries exist. Hard to say how many variants would exist.

The questions don't annoy me I just haven't watched/read most of the stuff you guys have watched/read.

I haven't watched/read it.

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: fighting, mention of a sharp object.

Word Count: 1550 words

a/n: yeah, I couldn't wait to share this! I'm lowkey worried I'm being too repetitive in the chapters; I don't think I am when I re-read previous ones but ✨overthinking.✨ so I'll always be grateful for your feedback, and I hope you enjoy! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 8

Hongjoong flew across the room.

You know when someone is beyond infuriated and enraged, but they maintain an unmoved and unflustered disposition? That was Jisung at the moment. Despite the boiling rage that simmered and seethed inside him, Jisung displayed a calm and undisturbed expression, almost like a statue, and that could never be a good thing. Undeterred by Chan’s urges to stop him, Jisung tossed and hurled Hongjoong around while Yunho and Yeosang attempted to rescue their leader…so they could deal with him themselves.

"Is it fun to mess with someone's feelings? I don't think it is. Maybe you need a really good wake up call, coffee clearly can't help. Don't worry, this won't hurt much...at least for me." Jisung casually stated.

Jeongin lodged himself by the door because he wanted a good view of Jisung in action. Meanwhile, San and Jongho struggled to restrain Seonghwa and Mingi from pummeling Hongjoong, and Wooyoung was torn between cheering for Jisung and helping Yunho and Yeosang.

But then he realized there were enough people to handle the situation and Hongjoong deserved it, so he slipped out of the café and went searching for you. 

Wooyoung was furiously livid but at the same time, he was wretchedly heartbroken. He couldn't believe Hongjoong would ever do something like that and it was eating him alive that he didn't realize sooner. Wooyoung liked to give the benefit of the doubt to people. So, when Hongjoong coaxed him into hanging out with Lila, it was mainly due to the former's reasoning being that Lila was on her own and they should make her feel welcome.

But you also felt alone too and as Wooyoung recalled every time he essentially stood you up and listened to Hongjoong, he could feel his heart crack little by little, the pain being unbearable and unrelenting. He felt like he was slowly losing his mind, the aching feeling over the idea of losing you completely because of his foolishness, was burning like a fever and consuming all of his thoughts. It was like a hurricane, ripping through him with no mercy.

Wooyoung refused to entertain that thought and pushed it away as far away as he could. He was going to fix things on his part, and if you would have him, he would stay here in the human realm with you. He did not mind giving up his status, position and responsibilities. Rather, he preferred to help you with the café. He didn't care for the power and ranking being an alpha brought, he cared about you, and his alpha wanted you, forever and for more. 

Just like the first time he met you.

It was nearing the Christmas season, and Wooyoung convinced Yeosang to venture out to see the activities that were taking place in the main town. However, the latter found the weather to be much too dreary and cold for his liking, so he plopped himself on a bench and sent Wooyoung for a coffee. 

Wooyoung scoured every tent until he stumbled upon yours. Along with Seonghwa, the two of you planned to hand out complimentary coffee and tea for the cold weather alongside some biscuits. When he approached and met you face to face, his heart began to do somersaults and he could feel himself burning up in the cold weather. There was a connection between the two of you that united each other’s hearts. You were graceful, humorous and so pretty, the kind of beauty that radiates from within. As the two of your hands grazed one another and the familiar sparks erupted, it was like every single puzzle piece fit perfectly where it belonged.

And as the other boys came in together, it became clear that the puzzle was complete. 

Wooyoung had no idea where he was going till he saw you standing near a lake. Just like the first time he saw you, you were still charming and enchanting from afar. In an entire big city with so many scenic views, all he could see was you and he rushed to you with no time to waste.

In the meantime, you stood at the lakebed ferociously irate and riotously bitter. You could feel the flashes of irritation and raw rage thrumming through your veins. Your mood sharply decreased and soured like a lemon after the confrontation and in the moment, you wanted to do nothing more and just fiercely smack Hongjoong.

How did it end up like this? 

And was it even going to get better? You had a bad feeling it wouldn’t.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Wooyoung hollered.

Surprised, you blinked in confusion and turned to see Wooyoung hurriedly sprinting towards you.

"Wooyoung? How did you find me?”

"I just wandered around and saw you from across the street."

“You can’t just wander Wooyoung,” you chastised, “You need to be careful out here.”

Wooyoung felt that similar feeling he always felt when you reprimanded him. It felt like home again, when none of this happened.

He stood in front of you and got a good look at your expression. Despite your rigid form, your face was streaked with dry tears. He could imagine all the emotions you were currently processing. All because of them.

He then fell to his knees as he bawled.

"Please don't leave me." he then whimpered.

"Wooyoung..."

"I'm ready to give it all up for you, Y/N. I'll do whatever you need me to. My life means nothing without you in it. Please, please give me a chance."

Wooyoung couldn’t bear to lose you. He silently hoped things would get better from here, but just like you, he too had a bad feeling that loomed in the air.

"Get up Wooyoung." You spoke softly.

How is this going to go? It wasn’t just two of you, there were nine of you. One, who had already dug himself deeper and deeper in a hole, slashed a bond that was meant to be so divine and seraphic. But what about the others? They were willing to repent and atone for their actions. But…was it enough? Was there any possibility of going back to how things were before?

And Hongjoong, how do you just forget all he said and did?

It’s not like you could meet again for the first time.

You assisted Wooyoung from the ground and cupped his face to wipe away the stray tears. However, you felt it again, that bad feeling and suddenly, from your peripheral you noticed a looming figure coming towards the both of you with a sharp object in hand. Noticing the blade in full view as it neared closer, you pushed Wooyoung out of the way and tried to block it. The miscreant stumbled forward, reeling from the block and swung blindly in your direction. Despite the pounding blood in your ears, you outstretched your arm to grab the perpetrator’s wrist, only to have the blade gnash your hand and then feel a sharp sensation in your side.

Wooyoung counterattacked and managed to rip the blade out of his hand before plunging into the culprit. 

You collapsed to the ground, shaking as the pain seared through your body. In your blurred vision, you saw Wooyoung’s silhouette rush towards you, bawling your name like his life depended on it. 

The blade was coated with an extract from the deadly nightshade - crushed belladonna and nerium.

You didn't know what else happened, everything around you became indistinct and all you could remember was just Wooyoung's cries and a slight apparition of Minho before it all went black.

In the meantime, the others felt it. Your bond went desolate again. But unlike last time, this time there was no lingering presence. They couldn’t feel you whatsoever as a blackhole took over instantly.

Chan’s phone snapped everyone out of their trance. Jisung felt the shift in Chan’s aura, and as he zeroed in on Chan’s call from Minho, he knew it wasn’t good. That's the only reason why Jisung let Hongjoong go. Minho spoke loudly amidst the screams from Wooyoung and Chan felt his blood turn cold. 

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asked, “Is Y/N okay?”

When Chan spluttered out what happened, an avalanche of pain crashed over them without warning. There was now a profound emptiness in each of them, even Hongjoong, threatening to swallow them whole. Their spirits felt like it was sinking like a stone in water and misery tried to seep in and envelop them like a wet blanket, heavy and smothering.

“We need to go now.” Chan firmly stated.

Each of them bolted out behind Chan leaving Hongjoong and Jisung behind.

Jisung looked at Hongjoong, and saw the grief washing over him but also realization. 

“I had told Mingi I was wary of him, but you? I don’t like you one bit. We’re not done here but if that look in your eyes means anything, then you know you better get to it. All of this is your fault, if you only had a backbone to stand up to your mother. But mark my words Hongjoong, if anything happens to Y/N, I’m coming after your whole family.”

Jisung muttered a spell in Hongjoong’s direction and left Hongjoong to himself and his grief.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf @dementedaly @thunderous-wolf @itsmeregan

a/n: hello again! just wanted to let new readers know, if you're interested in being part of the taglist, you can send me a private message or in the ask me anything! It'll be easier for me to see! if I missed your message, please PM me and I'll add you in asap! thank you! <3

[xalrightyaphroditex]

currently working on a Magnus ttrpg for my friends and I am so fuckinh excited about it so I’m going to info dump a bit:

It’s set up in the eye-pocalypse, with the party’s primary objective to start with being finding artifacts to reinforce Salesa lil safe house (which is going to be “home base” for the party, Salesa starts as a primary quest giver/merchant/source of info)

Depending on if the party plays as primarily good aligned, the goal is to stop Jonah Magnus and save the world- but if they opt for an evil run Gertrude and John will be the big boss fight at the end- which I think will be so fun!

Each traditional dnd class is going to be linked to 2-3 fears: rangers can choose between the hunt, the slaughter, and the flesh- Druids can choose between the flesh, the stranger, and the corruption, etc

Each level up grants some bonus to fear related abilities: an avatar of the eye will get random, unrelated fun facts at early levels, and at higher levels they’ll get facts relating to quests/plot/enemies (limiting this to like once a session/once a long rest maybe), avatars of the lonely at high levels can temporarily banish someone to the lonely, etc

All the TMA characters will be used as NPCS, which I am so pumped for! I’m going to do random rolls for characters like Daisy, with small opportunities for Daisy (and others) to destroy other NPCs the party has/has not met, which for me is just a fun lil extra bit.

Each party member will have the chance to take artifacts linked w their patrons (like the homophobic vase !!! The corruption syringe !!) or to give them to silasea (opportunity to retrieve them is Annabelle kills silasea) which I’m still deciding how to ensure nothing winds up too powerful but I’m very thrilled for.

I may post more about this later, because as of now I am in the end stages of it which means I am adding so many fun lil bits, and planning out so many fun lil quest lines and finalizing map designs and whatnot :)))))))

[morganaadams]

The Queen’s Protégé

PART 2

The garden, lush with the scent of roses and shaded by towering trees, felt like an oasis of false tranquility in the midst of an emotional storm.

The sun filtered through the thick leaves of the old trees, casting dappled light across the meticulously manicured lawns, where the flowers bloomed in vibrant colors and the air smelled sweet with their perfume.

It should have been peaceful, serene even, yet within the circle of women gathered there, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

The air was thick with malice, the scent of roses mingling with the bitterness of envy and disdain. The calm was only a façade, easily shattered by the venomous words they were about to speak.

Lady Cressida Cowper, ever the queen of social theatrics, led the venomous charge, her every movement calculated, designed to draw attention and to wound. She stood at the center of the group, her regal posture and icy composure exuding an aura of superiority.

Her voice cut through the air like a blade, sweet as honey but sharp and unforgiving, laced with poison that only those who dared listen closely would recognize.

“I must say,” Lady Cressida purred, her tone syrupy and dripping with insincerity, “I find it quite curious how the entire Laurent family could die in that tragic accident, and yet Violetta remains untouched. Untouched and, of course, wealthier than any of us could ever dream. What a fortunate little orphan she must be.”

Her laughter, shrill and high-pitched, was filled with mocking cruelty. It rang out in the garden, breaking the delicate silence, like the sound of glass shattering.

The other women, standing in a tight circle around her, chuckled in response, their expressions twisted with envy and spite. It was a low, self-satisfied sound, one that spoke of a deep-seated desire to tear down the woman at the center of their malicious gossip.

Each woman took a moment to glance at one another, confirming that they were all on the same page, united in their cruel speculations.

Their eyes glittered with a shared, unspoken understanding that they had found their target: Violetta Laurent. The girl who, through no fault of her own, had become the object of their jealousy, their disdain, and now, their unrelenting hatred.

Lady Wilkins, never one to hold back when gossip was ripe for the picking, added her own venomous thoughts to the conversation, her voice thick with sarcastic sweetness.

“Oh, yes. So tragic, so heartbreaking,” she mocked, her words dripping with insincerity. “The death of an entire family—except for the darling Violetta, of course. She somehow emerged, all alone, untouched by the flames. How convenient, don’t you think?”

The other women nodded in agreement, their eyes gleaming with malicious delight. It was clear they shared her suspicion—how could one so young, so fortunate, escape the tragedy that had claimed her entire family? There had to be more to the story than met the eye.

There was always a hidden reason behind such good fortune, a reason they were more than happy to uncover and expose. But Lady Cressida wasn’t finished. Oh, no, she never was.

She leaned forward, her body language suggesting that she was about to share something truly shocking.

Her eyes glittered with a cruel joy, and her smile twisted into something predatory, as though she knew a secret that would tear down the very foundation of the woman they were discussing.

“I’ve heard rumors—dark rumors—about that accident,” Lady Cressida continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“About how the entire Laurent family perished while Violetta was left standing. It’s almost as if she orchestratedit, don’t you think? A well-timed ‘accident’ that left her with all the riches, the title, the power.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with implication. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, as the women in the circle absorbed what she had said.

It was as if they had all been waiting for this, waiting for someone to give voice to the doubts they had long harbored in the deepest recesses of their minds. The rumors had already been circulating, but now they had been articulated aloud, and it seemed to give them weight—weight that none of the women could ignore.

The poison in the air was palpable, and Lady Cressida reveled in it. She was the orchestrator, the master of this malicious game. She had always been a woman of high society, skilled in the art of social manipulation, and this was no exception. She had chosen her target—Violetta Laurent—and she would stop at nothing to see her fall from grace.

“Do you really think that was an accident?” Lady Wilkins hissed, her voice lowering even further, as though she were letting the words slip from her lips in a secret confession.

“I believe that girl killed them. Killed them all to inherit everything. What a clever little orphan she is, playing the part of the mourning daughter while secretly savoring the spoils. The Queen’s darling—who better to hide her secrets?”

The women around her murmured in agreement, nodding their heads as if they had just discovered the truth of the matter. It was as if their suspicions had been validated, and they were now united in their belief that Violetta’s rise to prominence was no mere accident.

They had always known there was something too perfect about her. The way she had risen from nothing, so effortlessly, so swiftly, had been a mystery to them. But now, the answer was clear: she had manipulated the tragedy of her family’s death to seize power and wealth.

Lady Cressida was not finished. She leaned in even closer, her voice growing more menacing, as though she were about to reveal some final, damning piece of information. “And let us not forget,” she continued, her eyes gleaming,

“the family fortune. The Laurent estates are vast, stretching across England, Europe even. Mayfair itself practically belongs to them. The richest family in all of Europe, now in the hands of one girl. One young girl, who has no more right to it than any of us.”

Her words were meant to sting, and they did. The women around her seemed to grow even more agitated, their resentment building like a storm on the horizon.

It was one thing to be excluded from society’s elite; it was another entirely to watch someone else rise to the top with such ease, with such favor. They felt it was an injustice—an injustice they could no longer ignore.

Lady Hardcastle, her face twisted with jealousy and bitterness, joined the conversation with a sneer that spoke volumes. “She doesn’t deserve that fortune. She doesn’t deserve a single penny. None of us do, when she can just inherit it—from her family’s death, no less! But we all know the truth, don’t we? She’s a clever little vixen. She played the part of the mourning daughter so well, we didn’t even question her. But I’m sure that fortune is her real grief—her true loss. It’s the money she mourns, not her parents.”

The words stung like venom, but the women around her didn’t seem to notice. They nodded in agreement, their eyes glinting with a shared satisfaction as they continued to dismantle Violetta’s character. With every passing second, their words grew more venomous, more toxic, feeding off each other’s scorn and malice.

“And let’s not forget the real elephant in the room,” Lady Cressida purred, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “The Queen. Why does she protect Violetta so? Why does she keep her so close? The Queen’s favoritism is no secret. We all know it. Violetta gets everything, from the title to the inheritance, all because of the Queen’s strange obsession with her. What’s the real reason? Why would the Queen give her such favor?”

The other women fell silent, hanging on her every word. The idea that the Queen’s relationship with Violetta was anything other than benevolent had crossed their minds before, but hearing it spoken aloud was something entirely different. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a truth they had been too afraid to acknowledge.

Lady Hardcastle’s voice dripped with disdain. “Why else would the Queen give her so much? Why would she shower her with affection and protection, when there are countless others in society who would kill for such attention? Could it be that the Queen knows the truth? Perhaps Violetta isn’t just some orphaned girl. Perhaps the Queen is covering for her, protecting her because she knows something about Violetta that we don’t. Something darker, something… secret.”

The whispers grew louder, more frantic, as the women speculated further. The Queen’s affection for Violetta—her near obsession with the girl—had always been a mystery, but now it seemed that mystery was unraveling before their very eyes.

They could almost see the connection between the two women, a bond that seemed too close, too suspicious to be explained away by mere kindness.

“Why would the Queen keep her isolated from society like this?” Lady Cressida mused, her voice slow and deliberate. “Why not let her join society, like the rest of us? Why shelter her so, unless there is something they’re hiding? Perhaps Violetta is the Queen’s pawn, her protege, her little secret.

She’s been under the Queen’s protection for years, kept out of the public eye. It’s all too convenient, don’t you think?”

The women leaned in closer, hanging on every word, their faces alight with malicious curiosity. It was as if they could already see the threads of a vast conspiracy unfolding before them, one that tied Violetta, the Queen, and the entire Laurent fortune together in a web of secrets and lies.

All the while, Colin stood at the edge of the garden, listening, his chest burning with an unbearable rage. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight with fury. He had never heard anything so vile in his life.

These women, these vipers, were so eager to tear Violetta apart with nothing but their bitter jealousy and wild, unfounded speculation. They knew nothing of her—nothing of her pain, her struggles, her sacrifices—and yet, they dared to speak as though they held all the answers.

The anger swelled inside him, hot and furious, until it felt as though it might choke him. His hands trembled, and his body shook with the urge to step forward, to silence these women once and for all. He wanted to defend her.

He wanted to shout that they were all wrong—that the Queen did love her, that she was a woman worthy of respect, not the horrid image they had painted of her.

But he stayed silent. He couldn’t give in to the impulse to speak, to let the rage consume him. His mind screamed for him to intervene, but his body was paralyzed, locked in place as he watched these women tear apart the very soul of a person he had yet to know—but already felt a deep, unshakable protectiveness for.

Just as he felt himself on the edge of losing control, the weight of their cruelty almost too much to bear, he took a step back. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. He was a guest here, an outsider to their circle. If he said anything now, it would only give them more ammunition to fire back at him.

But the fire within him still burned hot. And he knew, with certainty, that one day he would no longer be able to stay silent.

With every cruel word, with every harsh whisper, the lines between Violetta Laurent and Colin Bridgerton were beginning to blur—until, one day, he knew, he would have to step into the storm and protect her, no matter the cost.

The words of the women continued to ring in his ears, but as the conversation turned toward something else, something trivial, he remained frozen in place. He didn’t hear their voices anymore—only the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest, and the growing certainty that Violetta Laurent was a mystery he was determined to solve.

[eugenedebs1920]

The balance has been thrown off kilter. The representation is not equal to the constituency. The lust for power has surpassed the duty to protect the Constitution, defend democratic principles, or adhere to the wishes of the people. This has dire implications. This doesn’t just give the illusion of government reflecting the will of the people, it shows the blatant disregard for it.

I’m a liberal. My values are that of equality, that people should feel free to express themselves how they please, love who they want to love, have control of their own bodies. I believe that government is there for the benefit and betterment of society, that government is not that which restricts liberty, but that which enshrines it. I believe that no one is better than anyone else, that the working class should make a living wage, that corporations and the wealthy should pay just as high of a tax rate as a teacher, that leaving this country, and this world in better condition than how we found it, both socially and environmentally, should be a top priority, that science is real, and objective reality is that in which we live, that religion should not dictate policy, nor be forced upon anyone.

This nation hasn’t been this divided in decades. Between the rise of the right wing propaganda apparatus, the unchecked, undiagnosed racism that the Obama years pulled to the surface, the shocking victory of a polarizing, 2nd rate reality tv personality, who brought with him to the oval office not only incompetence doused in narcissism, but not so silent cries of a discriminatory dog whistle.

The absolute failure during the covid pandemic brought the attention of those who would normally not have much political engagement into plain sight. The refusal to listen to scientists and doctors. The stubborn, asinine objections to the simple suggestion of masks. The skepticism of vaccines whose efficacy and safety have been long established. The projection, scapegoating, finger pointing, and denial of objective reality trump exuded was his downfall.

The 2020 election, despite the assertions of fraud and corruption, was found to be, by trumps own cabinet, as well as an independent investigator hired by the Trump campaign, the most secure and free from interference to date. When the “right” disputes the participation numbers, comparing them with previous elections, they would assert that millions and millions more votes were cast in that election than in others. There is a simple and obvious reason for this. Access and ease of participation.

A lot of us were on lockdown in fall of 2020 (not myself, I was an “essential worker” which sounds a whole lot like expendable asset) many were working from home, or unable to work. In the midst of all this was the general election. With social distancing protocols, and suggested limited interactions between people, the public was mailed their ballots, unburdening those who had found it taxiing to engage in their civic duty of democracy. When people were allowed to fill their ballots out with leisure, in their home, then mail their decision out, the participation rate skyrocketed.

This next bit is relatively unrelated but. The 2020 election saw the highest percentage of eligible voters cast ballots, at 62.8%, since the 1968 elections, the average participation rate being between 49%-57% since (shame shame on those not civically engaging). All this voter fraud talk, and non citizen voting is complete fabrication. Even the ultra far right Heritage Foundations investigations found minuscule cases of “suspected fraud” the percentage of these suspected cases being 0.0001%. These pushes for voter integrity, or to secure our elections are simple attempts to disenfranchise voters, a campaign of legalized voter suppression, don’t be fooled.

The fact of the matter is, in this science based world, where the questions of old have been answered, society is more open minded and tolerant, those clinging to the legitimacy of their discredited, fantastical religious dogma, acting in ways in such contrast to the scripture they preach, find themselves losing relevance, and in turn, losing power. So as to retain power the tactics are to cheat and rig the system to where minorities, the working poor, urban voters, women, and the youth will find it difficult to carry out their civic responsibility of voting. This is not a denouncement of spirituality or religion overall, it is a calling out of those who use religion as a sword and a shield to carry out their highly immoral behavior.

I digress…

The pendulum swing from the Obama years, combined with the, to put it nicely, unconventional and divisive rhetoric of the 2016 Trump campaign and subsequent administration has polarized the United States to levels not experienced in many of our lifetimes.

Then there’s the lies. Lie after lie after lie. With special counsel to President, Kellyanne Conway telling a reporter that the fabrications coming from the White House weren’t lies they were “alternative facts”. Post Trump’s presidency an independent analysis counts that Trump had lied, misled, and altered the truth more than 36,000 times. Thats just the first run.

Then you have the propaganda and propagandist. Institutions like Fox News, OAN, and Newsmax, so disattached from objective reality that Fox and Newsmax were held to accountability for their deception to the tune of almost $2 billion. Many of the smaller independent right wing media and podcasters were found to have “unknowingly” taken money from Russian state television and given a list of talking points to spread on the right in order to sew discourse between Americans and distort reality.

Say all you will about the “fake news”, or legacy media, the mainstream media, like they’re profit driven cowards, you could say they’re corporate tools, one could even claim they’re milk toast media, too afraid of speaking truth to power on the chance it would offend their bottom line and upset the almighty messiah that is the capital stuffing their fat pockets. CNN, CBS, ABC, NBC, or MSNBC, although some may show an apparent bias towards Democratic ideals, and receive their talking points from corporate overlords, they were not instructed by the Kremlin to divide America.

On the first amendment. In this country you are free to believe and say what you please. Yet some have exploited this endowment granted in the Bill of rights to collapse and crumble an essential pier of a free society bestowed in said amendment. An independent, free, and credible press. Sadly it’s one thing when the president says things like, Jan 6th was a day of love, or Haitian immigrants are eating pets, ect, it’s another to present yourself as a purveyor of factual information, convincing your audience of such, and feeding them an alternate reality. It sews division and animosity, one side consuming lies as truth.

Moving on.

On the left, a well meaning, and justified movement, of holding those who would prey on women without consent accountable for their actions, transformed from the righteous and long overdue pursuit of justice, into a culture of censorship if others opinions offended, or were in contrast to those who held their own ideals as law. The cancel culture had began.

This cancel culture would deny controversial speakers from freely expressing their opinions in universities and at events across the country, it would shame and accost speech or views contentious to their perception, the fight for social justice became eerily similar to that which they opposed, fascist thought police.

The thing about freedoms, rights and liberty is that it must be enjoyed by all to be enjoyed by any. Personally I find Nazis and racism, discrimination, disgusting and unacceptable, yet those pathetic bigots have to be granted the same privileges of free speech as non ignorant citizens of a free society for that right to be given to society as a whole. It doesn’t mean one would have to go along with it, it doesn’t mean one can’t oppose or combat it, it doesn’t mean that Nazis don’t deserve what they get for openly supporting it. It means they have a right to say and express it.

Another unforeseen consequence of stifling viewpoints which may be contradictory to one’s self, offensive or controversial is the limitations of one’s personal growth. By denying and sheltering debate of that which you find fundamentally wrong or that goes in opposition to that which you believe, it causes one’s perspective to become rigid and narrow, unwittingly being that which you decried as intolerant.

The backlash to this, and to the nations first president of color, was the inception of an opposition party with very vibrant tones of racial intolerance. The T.E.A. (Taxed enough already) Party would bust on the scene as a far right movement, raising havoc at town halls and throwing rallies in nearly every state. All this would be perfectly acceptable and even welcomed, but there was an unsettling theme. Rally goers would brandish signs refuting Obama’s citizenship, signs that read, “a village in Kenya is missing its idiot”, some that referenced slavery even some using the N word.

Along with this not so subtle display of racism, Republicans were questioning Barak Obama’s eligibility to hold the office of president as well. His foreign sounding name, and the pigmentation of his skin, prompted some to call for Obama to prove his citizenship, asking to see his birth certificate. Even upon the release of his birth certificate, the skepticism lingered heavy in the atmosphere of general discourse on the right.

One of these voices was a crude, frankly vulgar, insulting, failed businessman turned reality television personality, not particularly articulate or intelligent, but his crass style was relatable and entertaining, the trash that spewed from his mouth was unimaginable not 10 years prior. This was the rise of Donald Trump, who would go on to win the nomination for president as a Republican.

In a display of arrogance the Democratic Party, the only viable choice for progressive thinking liberals in the U.S., disregarded the support for its own unconventional candidate, a Jewish socialist, Bernie Sanders. Instead they nominated a candidate, sadly unconventional due to the sex, but about as establishment as it gets in Hilary Clinton.

Perhaps it’s the young age of the United States, or perhaps it’s just misogyny, but America, unlike much of the world, isn’t willing to elect a female to its highest office. Trump, an adjudicated sexual assailant and known adulterer, exudes misogyny, and sexism. His attacks on Clinton were relentless, unfounded, and inappropriate. In their debate he loomed over her like a caged animal, pacing back and forth. At the end of the day Trump’s victory was a shock, even to the Trump campaign.

The 2016 Trump administration started off slow, and bumbled their way forward. In February, just prior to the election, long time conservative Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia passed away. The sitting president is constitutionally obligated to replace any vacancy in the Supreme Court should it arise, but reptilian alien, turtle variant, Mitch McConnell had other plans.

McConnell popped his head out of his shell to make out of whole cloth, a rule that had never been instituted in the previous 240 some years of this nations existence, claiming that a “lame duck” president didn’t have the right to nominate a justice to the highest court in the land, blocking any attempt to appoint Obama’s nomination. That’s how Neil Gorsuch sits on the court today, and how Merik Garland was given the opportunity to fail the American people and the Constitution four years later.

Newton’s 3rd law it states that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If you push against the wall, the wall “pushes” back with the same force. The laws of physics can apply to society as well. When one force pushes, the same amount of force will push back.

In 2018 Justice Anthony Kennedy retired, giving Trump his second Supreme Court pick. Although Kennedy would be considered a conservative, he wasn’t stuck with a closed ideological view, and was often a swing vote for the more liberal justices on the court. The man chosen to replace him, and in which Trump instructed his FBI to forego any sort of extensive investigation, Brett Kavanaugh, who’s past, riddled with allegations of sexual assault and heavy drinking that should have been disqualifying, leaned much farther to the right that his predecessor. The balance of the court had shifted significantly.

In the hype of a global pandemic was the 2020 general election. Americans, and much of the world was in turmoil. People were dying in droves, the global economy was in shambles, commerce and shipping was at a halt, even the essentials like toilet paper was hard to ascertain, when on September 18, the liberal icon Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away, just 2 months before the 2020 election.

In a shameless move of outright staggering hypocrisy, majority leader, old freezeframe tortuga himself, Mitch McConnell moves at lightning speed, ramming through the confirmation of Trump’s 3rd Supreme Court pick, Amy Coney Barrott, creating a near supermajority, right wing court.

What does any of this recent history lesson have to do with polarization? Equal and opposite reactions.

What’s one of the first major rulings coming from this maga court? Rescinding Roe v Wade, stripping women of their bodily autonomy, to where their grandma had more rights than they did. This court has drastically set environmental standards back, it has weakened labor rights, taken authority over experts in their fields of science, it has removed voting protections, protected weapons of war for any civilian, and in the most revolting show of partisanship and an absurd interpretation of the our Constitution, it gave immunity to the executive branch regarding crimes committed as president of the United States.

Still. How is this relevant to the division in our nation?

I try, with great effort, to emphasize, relate and understand the current “conservative”, slash, right wing perspective. From my perspective, what they say, and what they do, or their voting record, are vastly different things.

They claim they’re for the working class yet stack their administrations with billionaires. They enact tariffs that get passed down to the consumer, raising the price of goods ever higher. They continually vote against raising the minimum wage, against collective bargaining, against protections from hazardous materials, against paid family leave and sick leave, against guaranteed overtime. Yet they vote for restricting lawsuits against corporations. How does that benefit the working class?

They claim to be pro family, pro life. Yet they vote to slash nutritional assistance benefits, they vote to eliminate the Department of education and head start programs, they vote against the child tax credit, they vote to eliminate consumer protection agencies like the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and the FCC. They vote to eliminate price caps on pharmaceuticals, to slash Medicare and Medicaid, against universal childcare. How does that benefit families?

They claim to be fiscally responsible and good for the economy. Yet 10 of the last 11 recessions have been under Republican administrations. The first Trump administration added a quarter of the OVERALL debt we’ve accrued. They cut taxes for the wealthy and for corporations, yet our tax rate has risen to nearly 40%, offloading the fiscal burden onto the working class. How is that fiscally responsible?

They claim to be for the first amendment but they want the Bible in public schools. They claim to be pro free speech, but threaten universities. They have vilified the press, arrested and deported protesters, they burn and ban books. How is that pro first amendment?

The most obvious example of what is now the Republican Party, but can be categorized as conservative, (although I’m not sure exactly what they’re conserving) or the right wing exuding utter disdain for this country, the rule of law, and the constitution. Their constant assault on the foundation of this republic, votes.

Since the birth of the democratic system, where the people choose their governance through casting a vote there have been those who would seek to sway the odds in their favor. There are numerous ways in which to to this, buying votes with favor or capital, intimidation, fraud, having influence over those who count the votes, but the one most commonly used in the United States is simple voter suppression.

There are several ways to carry out this suppression, even to a point where the act is difficult to notice. After emancipation black Americans were a predominate target. White election officials would enact a poll tax that many could not afford, they had literacy tests, they would insist that they name council members or representatives in full, now it is more prevalently undertaken by adding obstacles and restrictions, making it harder to register, unnecessary documentation, proof of citizenship.

We all want free and fair elections. I think we’d all agree that only American citizens should be allowed to vote in American elections. I can’t tell you how many times I tried explaining this during the most recent election. People will say, ‘You should have to show ID in order to vote!’, the thing is, you do.

In all states, in order to get a drivers license, drivers permit, or state issued identification you have to show your birth certificate. In order to register to vote you have to show an ID when you register. I guess I was unaware that the Department of Redundancy Department was so involved in the electoral process. Migrants and those residing in the U.S. legally are required to possess United States identification from the state they’re in but the number on your state license is linked to your Social Security number which is tied to your birth certificate, which those not born in the U.S. are not in possession of.

The penalties for voter fraud and non citizen voting citizen voting are severe. The act is a federal crime punishable by up to 5 years in prison, fines exceeding $5,000, both civil and criminal charges can be filed, and those who aren’t United States citizens can be deported. Seems like the juice ain’t worth the squeeze to cast a single ballot amongst 150 million votes.

The Republican (right wing/conservative) led House of Representatives just recently passed the SAVE Act requiring a birth certificate or passport, not accepting a state drivers license (ID). Approximately 146 million Americans are without a passport, to put that in perspective 153 million Americans voted in the 2024 presidential election. This would exponentially impact those in the middle middle class, lower middle class, and the working poor. Statistics show that 1 in 5 Americans making less than $50k a year have a passport.

This bill will disenfranchise nearly every woman who has taken their spouses last name as the bill makes no mention of a marriage license or change of name documentation, and if your name on your birth certificate doesn’t match that of your ID then you’re unable to verify.

The bill would void the use of military ID’s as acceptable documentation to register to vote, or cast a ballot. Our men and women who serve our country are often moved from various bases here at home, and many serve abroad, making state issued identification (not that that would suffice anyway) unnecessary or just redundant. Disenfranchising those who fight for our freedom is beyond unamerican.

The Get Out The Vote (GOTV) registration drives are prohibited under the SAVE Act as well. The bill would deny the use of online registration and mail in registration, forcing citizens who wish to register to go in person to their local agencies in order to register.

Voter fraud and non citizen voting is extremely rare, with statistics showing you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than for fraud or non authorized votes to be cast in our elections. The ultra conservative Heritage Foundation claimed to have identified prior to the 2024 election over 1,100 suspected fraudulent votes, yet in fact Only 105 cases come within the past five years,and 488 within the past 10 years. Thirty-two cases are from the 1980s and 1990s. Indicative of its overreach, the database even includes a case from 1948 (when Harry S. Truman beatThomas Dewey) and a case from 1972. In that time frame there have been over 3 BILLION votes cast. It’s a solution looking for a problem and disenfranchising millions of American voters in the process.

This is a blatant attempt to limit voter turnout, particularly those in a lower, or middle, socioeconomic bracket.

I have an idea! Instead of suppressing voter eligibility and participation, how bout enacting policies and laws that benefit the majority of the people? Or maybe they could look out for and protect the largest voting block, the middle class and working poor, instead of cutting Medicare and Medicaid, lowering and trying to eliminate social security benefits, dissolving agencies enacted to protect consumers and workers and giving tax breaks to billionaires and corporations. Meet their desired population with that in which the population desires.

We would all benefit from both parties being strong and possessing conviction. A healthy democracy is nourished through the diplomatic exchange of ideas. Compromise and bipartisan give rise to policy that is more robust and well rounded. Debate bolsters the power of thought.

This current system of obstructionism and hostility only serves those looking for publicity. These people are hired by us to do a job, and that job is to work together for the good of America and its people. We cannot ride a bike missing a wheel. The sycophancy and allegiance to a person and not to the Constitution or the constituency they represent shows a sharp decline in the values of governance.

This nation needs grounded in truth, not falsehoods. It needs bolstered with integrity, not capitulation. We need leaders who project honor, not arrogance. We have to remember, whether liberal or conservative, traditional or progressive, Republican or Democrat, the verb United that so proudly brandishes our nations title involves more than vague admiration. It requires participation, cooperation, civility and respect. For we may not be kin by blood, but it is our shared bond that makes us kin.

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Tyrion met with lots of slaves, many of which want a revolution and who are looking at Meereen as a possible way of getting rid of the slavers. They literally want Daenerys to come and help liberate them BECAUSE she’s the one with even a fraction of the means. Even the revolt is still in favor of the slaves, since you know who are the main people revolting aside from Daenerys’ camp ? The freedmen. They are revolting because they saw the very person who freed them and, against the odds and however imperfect the implementation, is keeping them freed and as protected as possible from the slavers who want to put them back into chains.

I don’t think people give Daenerys’ chapters and the non King’s Landing chapters of Tyrion as much attention as they deserve. Heck, people don’t pay attention to Arya’s chapters, where FUNCTIONAL SLAVERY is happening in Harrenhal and ACTUAL SLAVERY is happening in Hardhome. There’s no attention paid to how Tywin won over the nobility by destroying ALL of Aegon V’s reforms that gave the smallfolk some protection. So, no, saying that there is no slavery or nothing to fix in Westeros is just blatantly untrue. Just getting Aegon V’s laws again would be progress.

Yes, there was a movement... and a lot of the people in the abolitionist movement has SOME power in the social structure they lived in, like John Brown or Harriet Beecher Stowe. Heck, Prince Albert (Queen Victoria’s husband) was an abolitionist himself, and that lent a lot of extra power to the movement.

Again, you have a movement of people who want out of slavery, Daenerys became the lighthouse, much like Haiti did in its time, because they showed that it was POSSIBLE at all. It’s why Tyrion’s POV show slaves who roll their eyes at the rumors of Daenerys being an evil sorceress who wants to destroy the slavers’ way of life and WANT her to succeed, because it might mean there would be a domino effect for the rest of the slaver cities. The Widow of the Waterfront, a former pleasure slave, is outright making plans and a movement herself and tells Jorah and Tyrion to tell Daenerys that all of Volantis awaits her arrival.

I don’t get why people want to champion such a neocon theme with the Mad Queen Daenerys, when she’s literally the only monarch actually doing something for her people. The closest you get to a ruler who ACTUALLY cares about his people is Edmure Tully.

And Varys was always a snake in the grass. I think Young Grff is going to be a “take that!” to the incels and male supremacists who denigrate Daenerys because she’s a girl and want a male character to take her dragons and her storyline and be the traditional male Chosen One... only to show that Young Griff is nothing more than a fraud and puppet. Which, yes, given how many people in this fandom have that attitude, it’s not Daenerys’ abolition storyline they strictly object to (even if a good part of her haters side with the slavers because they actually share the same beliefs), it’s to Daenerys herself, namely that she’s not a male protagonist.

People don't pay attention to Dany's chapters because they think "it's too far" and "too unrelated" or "irrelevant" and because it's Dany POV. And like with Arya's they don't care about them.

They don't care about the revolutions arc, they only care about the power struggles between the male characters.

[guiltygearconfessions]

hi! im a registered nurse with a background in critical care

my confession is that after recently getting into guilty gear, i was surprised to find that i didn’t connect much with faust and his character. i like him, and he’s quite babygirl! my brain just doesnt rotate him in the microwave yknow

as it happens, bedman and delilah are my favorites! i think they’re both objectively neat, and i love their relationship. it’s funny because i connect with their storyline as a professional more than. The Medical Character lmao.

i think its bc over the time i’ve spent as a nurse thus far, i’ve met many folks in a similar position to the neumanns. asleep. can’t move. can’t communicate verbally or nonverbally. it sometimes makes me sad that i’ve been entrusted with smth as important as their health, but i don’t get to have conversations with those folks, and i don’t get to know what they’re like as people.

i think because of that, it’s really nice to see characters who are depicted that way in fiction and Also Have Magic Powers and Kick Ass and Have Nothing But Long Ass Conversations and refuse to be pitied.

i’ve never been this kind of position myself, but i’ve worked with many who have, or at least hovered in the periphery, so my experience is semi-informed, but still limited where it truly matters.

idk if it was intentional on the part of the writers, but it’s nice to see a depiction of comatose folks in fiction that are as vibrant and powerful as i know the ones in real life are. :-)

unrelated but i also think its wild that a catholic juggalo emotionally manipulated him into killing a bunch of people. Like damn thats crazy

-

[wizzard890]

is your objection to mists of avalon because marion zimmer bradley was a monster, or is it just the book itself? (i haven't read it since i was a teenager, and for whatever reason the warlord chronicles made more of an impression on me when it came to modern arthurian retellings-- idk if that's better or worse)

Oh, I hated the book well before Marion Zimmer Bradley was revealed to be a detestable sex criminal, for reasons entirely unrelated to her real-world crimes.

However, some Mists of Avalon specific crimes include:

Writing a book that is not so much a story as a tedious polemic about how yonic egalitarian ~Celtic~ paganism was destroyed by the brutal militant power of Christianity and the penis, an idea that was both stupid and deeply academically dated by the time of Mists of Avalon's publication.

Her characterization of Guinevere, which is to this day the most misogynistic portrayal I have ever seen, including 14th century and Victorian depictions.

I use "characterization" lightly, since most of the people in this book are dull mouthpieces for ideologies, or a meager assembly of one to two personality traits, especially the men. (Morgaine is the most special princess of all, so she sometimes gets up to three personality traits!)

The male characters are paper dolls, which is an issue when you're re-telling the Arthurian saga. When you're doing a feminist retelling of the Arthurian saga it's actually an even worse issue, because:

She isn't a creative enough writer to take liberties with plot (something this book has in very short supply), so she's stuck with the framework of the legends, which usually involve women attempting to trick or compete for the male characters. Unfortunately, as perviously stated, the male characters are not good, so you're left with a bunch of women backbiting and fighting and risking it all for some interchangeable dipshit, which doesn't reflect well on them. For a book that's all about how women belong to some sacred and beautiful vagina sisterhood, the female characters in this book sure spend a lot of time hating one another for being prettier than them.

It's too long. It's two hundred and thirty six pages longer than Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, widely praised as one of the best books of the 21st century. We simply do not require all that, Marion.

Saint Patrick catches the stray of all time here; he's ported over to England for some reason, becomes Arthur's personal confessor, and boy he just hates women! The worst, those women!

Needless changing of people's names. Lancelet? Come on.

The reduction of early Christianity (and medieval Christianity) to basically whatever your personal childhood priest/pastor said that bothered you is an absolute epidemic in genre writing, and it's all over this book. The poster child for "he would not say that" but "he" is a bunch of monks on Lindisfarne.

This isn't a cardinal sin, but if a story is all about the tides of Goddess-blessed pagan freedom and ~sexuality~, then the sex scenes should be good, right? Like, these are thematically load-bearing, they need to hit. In a turn of events that everyone saw coming if they've read this far, Mists of Avalon is a "big, meaty phallus" sort of book.

That's not all, but I'm tired of thinking about this dumb story now and frankly it's a crime that Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere have a three-way in this book, and it neither fixes everything or makes anything worse. Mists of Avalon: a radical reimagining that never meets a novel idea it won't squander.

[thewertsearch]

TT: Are you saying that I will succeed in the mission to destroy the sun? […] You seem rather keen on acquiring a fortune from me considering you are the one with the crystal ball. […] I myself do not care to be an oracle. But I can graciously supply you with one. […] An eager consort has brought you one of my seeds. It appears you have amassed followers who wish to please you. How fortuitous.

If each cueball is a 'seed', then each cueball can probably be developed into an instance of Scratch.

I have a horrible feeling that our Scratched session is going to feature a cueball-headed doggy - which, admittedly, is still a step up from the cueball-headed Cal.

It will accurately answer any question a curious girl can pose. Provided she can see through the surface to read its reply. […] TT: Is that possible? […] Given your title and all the tools of prognostication at your disposal, it seems to me I should be the one asking you the questions. TT: How can I see through it? It seems you weren't listening, so I will state this again in the form of a question. Don't you think I should be asking the questions from now on? […] Don't you think a clever person should be able to acquire information from someone who only asks questions? […] TT: Ok, so what you mean is I should continue humoring your leading questions until you happen to ask certain rhetorical questions that contain information I need.

Really, there's not much else you can do. He's going to steamroll the conversation either way, so you may as well just fuck around.

How does a Seer see? […] TT: With a crystal ball? TT: I already considered that. I don't think I can get the focus of the ball to "zoom in" tight enough on the cue ball's enclosure to read the answers.

Damn, and it was a good idea, too.

Jade has an affinity for Space, and could probably do better, but you're choosing not to involve your friends in any of your machinations. After all, they might try and stop you.

Vriska, famously, can see into these cueballs - or, at least, she could when she had her eyepatch. Convincing her to help would be a challenge, but Rose has been talking up her powers of persuasion lately. Time to put your money where your mouth is, Lalonde!

TT: Should I use magic? Do you believe in magic? TT: Magic is real. TT: I've been using it. Are you sure? TT: Use whatever word you want to describe it. I have magic wands, they are very powerful, and they allow me to be magic. Your questions are silly.

Silly, and a little strange, too. Rose's wands clearly have supernatural abilities, but they're not any more supernatural than the rest of her alchemy gear. They certainly appear more magical, because their supernatural effects have a magical aesthetic - but everything else is magic, too!

Like, come on. Everyone’s been flying around the Medium with rocket-powered devices that never malfunction, burn their passengers, or run out of fuel. What’s that, if not magic? Dave literally made a Frostblade, and it doesn’t stop being magical just because there’s a jpeg of Snoop Dogg on it. You could argue that some of these objects are channeling the kids' own Aspect abilities, but most of them have powers completely unrelated to the element their Player wields.

Hell, we don't even need to point to Sburb to prove magic exists. Aradia was a freakin' necromancer!

[velteris]

I’ve seen a fair amount of posts complaining about this arc in Frieren and… we are all entitled to our own opinions etc which is why I will be launching into a Defense of Frieren’s Exam Arc :) Keeping it manga spoiler free since it seems like most of these complaints are from anime-only viewers.

For me the main draw of this arc is the world building. We’ve spent all this time with Frieren and Fern as our main perspectives on magic. Because it’s Frieren, the magics we’ve been hearing about have mostly been a little silly and sweet. But now we’re finding out that 1) “mage” is largely still a combat designation, and 2) Frieren and Fern are actually incredibly jack-of-all-trades when it comes to their magic repertoire. The “magic is visualisation” part is starting to be really leant into and we’re seeing more humans as well who seem to specialise in one magic (steel flowers, rocks, clones, ice and water…) It’s cool!! It’s objectively cool! I love being able to see this range that we wouldn’t have had otherwise! Also it’s fucking fantastic to see how much of a BEAST Fern really is when compared to other human mages. And she doesn’t even seem that aware of it.

Coupled with that is being able to see different people’s philosophies toward magic. I think a lot of viewers are kind of down about the sudden huge influx of side characters who they don’t really care about. But these philosophies—Land’s maximum wait-and-watch, Wirbel and Ubel’s vastly different approaches to killing—keep expanding the world and highlighting Frieren and Fern’s own perspectives. It’s soooo good seeing them react to situations not of their own making and people not of their own kind.

We get to see human society that isn’t a village in the middle of nowhere! We get to see Frieren being forced to socialise! We get to see Fern away from her emotional support elf! We get to see how society has changed since the demon king was defeated! I love that Himmel and co ushered in an era of peace, which it is, and yet the world is still full of conflicts. Truly the story continues after the hero is finished.

To address a few specific complaints I’ve seen brought up:

Frieren isn’t about all these nonstop shounen fights.

Agreed! Which is why it’s cool as hell that Frieren’s main badass shounen strategy is “sit very still for 10 hours”. That aside? There actually hasn’t been much actual fighting. You could probably count up the minutes in which actual spells are being cast and it’ll be something like 2 minutes max in the latest ep20. And that’s because it’s not about who beats who, it’s about the philosophies, the worldbuilding, the ways of thinking about magic. This is not a power-measuring contest, much as Genau would like to make it. And the random lucky draw-ness of the Stilles only plays further into that. It is possible to pass this exam without coming into conflict with others, and certainly without battles to the death. It hasn’t ever been about the shounen fights.

The good part of the show was about the delicate melancholy and that’s totally missing here.

I agree that it’s one of the strong points. But the thing with the melancholy is that it only works when juxtaposed against other moments. A story that’s composed of a bunch of unlinked wistful slice-of-life episodes will eventually fall apart because it has no momentum, no driving force. And ten years to Ende is too long to go without at least some conflict. Also, again, ten-hour bird meditation session?

Anyway, there’s melancholy, but how sad it would be if there was nothing but introspection and wistfulness. Frieren is bringing the memories of Himmel forward with her into the future. That means she has to be moving forward, forging new relationships with unrelated people, going into situations that she hasn’t been in before. A Frieren stuck in the past would be against the themes of the show, of remembering and yet moving on.

Why should I care about them spending ages trying to catch a bird?

You don’t like Stille? 🐤 fweet?

Actually I care lots about this funky thing. Indestructible and goes supersonic fast. That’s fucking hilarious. Bird that simply cannot be contained. Genau is a dick for setting up this kind of exam when, Your Honour, my client Stille does not deserve to be imprisoned.

Too many irrelevant side characters who it’s hard to care about, and they’re gonna be thrown away at the end anyway.

Again, it’s the worldbuilding. And also, mild spoilers for stuff that won’t be covered in the anime, but at least one of these side characters does come back and we get more delicious main character development as a result. Though frankly many of these characters are deeply compelling and interesting to me so I don’t rly get this complaint. Give me more Lawine.

Where’s Himmel? What do these exams have to do with the hero party? Frieren is good because of the links to the past.

Frieren is good because of the links to the past, which affect how Frieren responds to the present. The whole point of Frieren is that Frieren’s life continues. And through her new experiences, she comes to understand and reconnect to the emotions she didn’t realise she felt about her past. I don’t care what Himmel would think of the mage exams, I care what Frieren thinks of them now. And the answer is that she doesn’t really give a damn but she’s in here anyway because Fern strongarmed her into it, and then she was forced to adopt two more kids along the way, and all of that is something she never would have done if she was still hermiting in the Central Lands. Somehow we are still getting Himmel flashbacks anyway? So? He’s still haunting the narrative guys. Just because Frieren isn’t saying “that’s what Hero Himmel would do” out loud in these circumstances doesn’t mean his ghost isn’t here.

Even so, Frieren clearly recognises the name Serie. Do not fear. There is going to be more about links to the past.

I miss Stark.

Fair enough. It’s okay, he’s just on vacation rn. Having an appy juice.

It’s taking too long. The arc is too slow.

It’s only been three episodes… I’ve seen people going “it’s already been three episodes!” but what? Really? Is that considered an excessive amount of time now?? Given the amount of story covered I think it’s quite reasonable? There’s still 8 episodes to go in which we cover the remaining exam stages. Have some patience like Frieren. The payoffs are being set up; they’ll resolve before the end of the mage exam arc. In the meantime, let’s enjoy theorising about the soft magic system and hollering for full auto Fern.