#to be absolutely clear: for every one high effort good story

[yellowocaballero]

Are there any fic ideas that you'd want to see but don't want to write?

Oh boy! Of course!

To be honest, the Green Lantern story is one of the big ones lmfao. It would be a massive undertaking for an audience of maybe five people. A niche audience normally doesn't stop me, but for such a long story, there's other uses of my time. There is also the fact that it just feels made for television. Same with my Legion of Superheroes Zoobomafoo thing - it just doesn't feel right in a text format. It's webcomic coded. I wish I could draw sometimes!

Then there's the story ideas for my AUs and other fandoms I've moved on from. There's still a few ideas for the No Chip AU in my back pocket (Cody redemption feat. Boba Fett following him around Tatooine yelling at him; Fox as the vigilante sidekick to his insane PA) and my normal Roleswap (Luke & Leia embark on a Great Father Mystery Hunt and bother Fox in the woods). There's also the continuation stories/sequels I've started but haven't finished and don't know if they will get finished (Roleswap Obi-Wan meets his birth family; my Buffy fic Angel and Cordelia through the years). There's other unfinished stories there (the Frenchie story which is literally only missing the final scene, the Heroes For Hire meeting story which is literally only missing the final scene) which I'm pretty sure I'll finish when I feel like it. I don't consider those WIPs so much as 'when I care again I'll go finish them'.

Then there's the stories that I just couldn't make into a decent story (the Naruto fix-it; the roleswap(ish?) story with adult bounty hunters Boba and Omega teaching runaway clones Luke and Leia the power of family and incredible violence). Not every idea is good outside of concept lol.

TL;DR: If I have a fic idea but haven't written it, it's because of one or more reasons: a) the idea itself is too big, b) the idea just doesn't seem right for fic, c) I've moved on from the fandom and don't want to work on it at this moment anymore, d) it just wouldn't make a good story.

If you notice, these are all active choices on my part. I only mention this because a lot of my friends can't relate, so I don't know how common it is even though I assumed it was common, and it's kind of hard to describe: there's no barrier between me having an idea and writing it. Does that make sense? If I have an idea and it'll make a good story and I want to write it I'll write it, at least until I realize that it wouldn't make a good story and I scrap it. If I think about something for too long I write it [this is why I am easily egged on][this is also why I write things I swore never to write very frequently].

Writing is like. It's easy. You just write stuff. You just think something and then you write it. It's uncomplicated.

If it's bad. Writing is easy if what you're writing is bad. It's easy to write 100k if the 100k is bad. There's a ton of shortcuts you can take, which are really useful for beginning writers and was really useful for me a few years ago. I can describe those if you'd like. It's much, much, much harder to write something good. It's hardest when you need something to be good. Writing a good 100k is really hard. I am constantly telling people not to jump into the novels kjlsdf.

Double TL;DR that has nothing to do with the topic: You can write whatever you want if you're okay with it being bad. Making bad art rocks and is a lot of fun and completely necessary towards my emotional well-being. I highly recommend it.

[neverchecking]

Hi I love you wirk

And I love how you call totk link sage

Also the cold attack boost outfit I love it my favorite The open back and showing his hips 🤤😋 hot

And I love the zonia

And I have a request

Can I request yandere sage x ruyla ( autocorrect Keeps fixing his name) king of the zonia daughter reader

Smut

Like the reader was sent to the future from her dad with out anyone knowing

And tells link to find his daughter who asleep not to far away from his shrine and go to a the time temple top and the zonia worker will show him the way

And they reade is a sweet flower but looks up to Link.

And link falls for her.

And won't let anyone take her even if it mean Baby trapping her please and thank you

And I love you.

At first I was like Raylu???? Then I noticed you mentioned autocorrect and I was like ah- Rauru.

You absolutely can. I love every part of this idea. I feel like a perfect companion to Sage is one that is just such a sunshiney baby.

Anyway, I meant to get this out last night after work, but I got high instead and spent an hour watching the ceiling fan. I also wrote like the weirdest draft ideas and I'm deciding if they're worth fleshing out at all.

(Sage is TotK Link!)

Also smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: Breeding kink, baby trapping, reader is a little naive. Sage. He's a crusty little bastard. (affectionately) Dumbification.

It had many names, the Legend of the Dragon's Daughter. Many of which titled it as either a legend or a story. A myth. Some warned of great dangers surrounding the aura of the spirit the legend told about. Other's told of the pure divinity that this being held in the palm of their hand. The grace and adroitness that lined their very pores was spoken of so fondly by the older generations who had heard the story from their own grandparents, who had heard it from theirs and so on and so forth. The older Zora especially spoke of her in such a tone he found himself lending a little belief to the legend.

The story told of a daughter, blessed to the first King and Queen of Hyrule by the Three Goddesses themselves. A princess bestowed with the gift of beauty and grace, a beacon to the budding kingdom. There were even carvings under Hyrule Castle, hidden by toppled boulders, that portrayed her image.

And he would admit. She looked like a being having been blessed by the heavens above.

The carvings had showed an ugly side to an already bitter story. How this princess, this goddess sculpted muse, was struck down by the Demon King as a means to get back at both King Rauru and Queen Sonia. The carvings from there had been too worn down to get a clear reading, but it was enough to pique his interest. Besides, what else did he have to do? Save a princess who had no issues with leaving him to die? Deal with monsters that the people of Hyrule already knew damn well how to deal with and were no longer scared of them? Traverse the depths and all the lightroots he had already found?

At least this way, he may get some new power out of it. If nothing else, at least he had a good story for Traysi.

His first area to investigate was the sky island he woke up on. He could still spot Rauru's spirit in certain areas, understanding the solemn look he seemed to wear much more than he previously did.

It was also much easier to travel around the island this time around, which was a bonus.

When prodded for answers, something complicated flashed over the spirit's face before it settled into a Grim acceptance. One Link had worn too often right after remembering the untimely demise of the Champions.

"She was gravely injured. My precious sunshine. I almost lost her that day." He had spoken in a grave echo, eyes glazed and far off, as if seeing his daughter right in front of him. "My sister, Mineru, had offered her services in an effort to preserve her soul. I am unsure if it had worked. I haven't had the heart to look. I would be such a disappointment to her fiery heart and iron strong will to shine in the brightest ways possible. She was kept in the Temple of Time if you are at all curious."

He was. He was curious. He wanted to see this being for himself. If Rauru spoke so highly of you, it had to be worth it. And it was either this or go save Zelda, and he figured she was fine doing what she currently was for a little while longer.

At least until he looked further into this.

Walking into the temple, he hummed to himself as he looked around, spotting the blue glow of Rauru near a wall closer to the exit. He nodded solemnly when Link approached. The hand that matched his own raised to the wall, pulling forth one of those green symbols that chimed at his hand. The bricks shuffled and moved while Rauru faded out, leaving an unactive construct in front of him. It rattled to life, chirping up at him before recognizing that he was friend and not foe. The Construct explained that he was designed to protect the chasm the Princess was being kept in, but since Rauru had deemed him worthy, he would escort the blond to the place. It wasn't a long journey, not at all, just down a spiraling staircase with stone walls curtained by moss.

But the moment he laid eyes on you, he understood why you were hidden.

You face was lax in such a peaceful expression as your body remained weightless, suspended in a bubble of seafoam green and ocean blue. Your hair was splaying up behind you as if you were underwater with your hands clasped around a hilt of a sword. Even the sword itself was divinity in a blade, glowing a bright white from it's place in front of you. You were clad in white robes trimmed in cold with a stone necklace laced around your delicate neck, those same white earrings hanging from your ears.

You were...ethereal. From the curve of your jawbone to the plump flesh of your cheeks, he was enthralled by your very essence. The curve of your shoulders and the toned flow of your arms, even the dip in your collarbone-- all of it had his eyes trailing every bend and curve of your body.

What he wouldn't do to get a piece of you.

He ached to just touch your sun-kissed skin, to feel it under his palms as he held you. To feel the run of your hips, fingers gripping at the dips that decorated them. To paint them a splattering of blues and purples in a lasting reminder of who he was and what he had done to you. To bite and nibble at the flesh just to hear the kind of cries you would make.

Goddess, he couldn't imagine what your voice sounded like, but he wanted to. He wanted to hear what it sounded like while you breathlessly gasped out. To hear what it sounded like when you cried out his name in pure ecstasy as you withered underneath of him. To hear you give yourself to him entirely.

He wanted to feel your weight on top of him, to experience your hands in his hair (Or cupping his cheeks if he chose to allow himself that vulnerability), to live in your orbit, worshipping you as his one true Goddess.

His eyes landed on the same green symbol that unlocked everything pertaining to the Zonai. He raised his hand in response. It lit up a bright green before fading. The bubble shined brightly before growing, eventually popping and exposing you to the elements. Which why? You were so vulnerable like that? Why not just give you to him directly? You were at risk like this. Couldn't they SEE THAT-

Whatever invisible force keeping you suspended gently laid you on your feet, which were bare, only adorned with an anklet matching your necklace. The tip of the sword in your hand clinked against the stone floor. The echo of it made your eyes, your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes, snap open. If he thought seeing you before was captivating, this was downright...enchanting. The light of your irises positively glowed as your silently gasped, hands tightening around the hilt of the weapon. He rushed to your side as he saw your balance falter, cradling you in his arms as one of your hands came to gently hold your own temple. Even just the sound of your groan made him swallow hard, fighting the blood threatening to rush to his (dick-) cheeks.

You blinked before realizing that he was not someone you knew, pushing him away with much more force than he would expect from someone fresh out of a comatose state. The only thing stopping him from wrapping his arms around you once more was the tip of the very blade now prodding at his neck. He swallowed.

"Who are you?" You demanded, hold on the weapon shaking just a tad.

(Which was so adorable. How someone like you, all soft skin and doe eyes, expected to make someone like him, rugged scars and gnarled morals, bend to you was beyond him.)

(But he'd love to see you try anyway.)

"Where are my people?! Or Queen Sonia and King Rauru?!" Oh, you were so cute.

He wanted to decimate that innocence you carried.

With a careful hand, he gently pushed the blade aside with the back of a hand, letting a smug smirk settle on his lips. Your cheeks immediately reddened as your attention remained on him. Just as he liked it, he decided then and there. He liked having your attention (and only yours) on him. But having you acting so hostile towards him just wouldn't stand. But you didn't know any better, not yet anyway, so he'd let it slide.

He gently explained that you had been fatally wounded protecting your people, something that your parents were endlessly proud of you for-- even in death. While it was a direct shot in his, admittedly lacking, heart to be the one to tell you of the passed time and the death of your parents (The sacrifice of your father and the betrayal that lead to your mother's death), he was evidently the best and only option. He understood, on an intimate level, what it was like to loose so much time, healing yourself, while the rest of the world carried on, carrying the loss of friends and family with it. He knew what it was like. It had to be why you two were so perfect for each other.

He held you as your cried, soothing down your hair as your tears (Which should never have been shed) soaked his shoulder. While he was never interested in defeating the Demon King for Zelda's sake, he may have just found another motive.

One much more worthy of his time and attention.

<><><><>

When he first saw you, he understood why you were hidden, on a surface level.

He understood why much more on a deeper, more intimate one now.

You were so bubbly. Even when faced with the devastation of your home, you remained optimistic, greeting the constructs that roamed around happily. Bestowing your cherished kisses (Those should belong to him.) upon their cold exterior while wiping them free of dirt. Even the wildlife that had squawked and charged at him crooned and chirped under your touch, hankering for the scratches you gifted them under the chin. You saw beauty in the overrun weeds and fauna, taking great interest in the new species that had popped up.

When he took to the mainland, via shrine travel because he would be damned before you got down the same way he originally did, it seemed like you couldn't see everything fast enough. You loved exploring the caves, despite the Like-Likes baring their disgusting teeth and innards (Which he quickly disposed of), ached to get as close as possible to the chasms (Which wasn't very as he refused to risk you falling in), yearned to traverse the mountain peaks and snow dunes of the mainland (Which killed him on the inside since didn't you know how dangerous those were?!).

You were quite the adventurer, full of inexperienced naivety and unpoised curiosity. The exact opposite of the princess he knew. He forgot you were royalty have the time with your mannerisms, nothing like Zelda. Which was so refreshing.

If only you weren't so fragile. He would never admit it (Too your face at least) that he's thought of just tying you down and keeping you in his (He saw it as your shared home these days) home. It was on the far outskirts of Tarrey town (Far enough no one would hear your cries for help should it come to that) with a pasture out front so you could keep a horse nearby as a friend (Should you behave).

(It wouldn't be a young, steady horse. No, most likely an older horse who had long since retired from any sort of running or getaway attempts.)

He just needed a way to keep you stationary.

And it hit him like a Hinox. You two were walking around Hateno (It was deemed safe and far enough from Tarry Town that it was still new to you), when you stopped, let out a high enough squeal his ears pinned to his head as his head snapped towards you. You were always in his peripheral, but now you were right in front of him with his hands quickly holding your arms, checking you over for injury. There were none, but you were beaming like someone had handed you a million rupees (He would. He could. He'd do it just for you), instead redirecting his attention with a call of 'Link, look!'. He had followed your line of sight just as you began squeezing his own hands, expecting you to be aweing over a cow or goat or, Goddess forbid, a dog again (You very nearly took one of stable dogs home last time). But you weren't.

And that's when it hit him.

You were loosing any semblance of a mind you had over a small infant, strapped to their mother's back by a wrap of some sort. The babe smiled at your reaction, letting out a small cascade of giggles that had you squealing in pure joy.

That was it.

The answer was right there! How could he have been so blind?! It was right there. If he gave you a baby, his baby no less, you would have no choice but to remain dormant. You would have to stay right where he put you to not only protect yourself, but to your protect your child. He had no doubt you would do it. You were too kind, too naive, for any other option. Once you figured out you were carrying his child, you'd fall for thing, claiming it as your own before it was any bigger than an apple seed.

And from then on it would just be a matter of formalities. You'd be his for the rest of your lives.

Exactly what he wanted.

Exactly what had led up to this moment. You were nothing but a babbling, crying mess underneath of him, pulling at the roots of his hair as he folded your legs against your chest. You were pleading with him, some mindless demand that he wasn't even sure you knew what you were asking, but it was background noise. He was too focused on watching the way he disappearing into your cunt, a milky sheen coating the shaft of his cock as heavy dollops of past loads dripped past your gaping opening. It was mesmerizing the way your body reacted to him, sucking him in and fighting him every time he pulled out. Even on an unconscious level, you ached for him. Not nearly as much as he breathed for you, but that would come with time. He knew it would. He'd ensure it.

The cry of his name on your lips had the coil in his gut steadily tightening as his pace picked up, thoroughly hammering your insides. He needed to make sure he was prodded right against your cervix for this to work. He needed to get this right. He needed to father any and all of your children. Starting here and now.

Whether you knew about it or not.

You had babbled something about him pulling out too long ago, but he had...distracted you with long laps at your clit and soft nipples along your thighs. He didn't even think of truly ruining you until you were clenching your thighs around his head and drenching his bottom jaw, too gone to properly process anything going on around you.

And he'd keep it that way.

His thumb, rough and calloused, rubbed harsh little circles into your clit, feeling it pulse in time with his ministrations. You whimpered beneath him, chest arching up to push against his own as you cried out, squeezing around him. You were positively milking him for every drop he had to offer.

There was no way you didn't want his children. Not with the way you were clenching around him as he jutted as far as he could go, filling your womb once more. You laid boneless beneath him, hands dropping to hang around his neck as he took a moment to breath. Your cunt spasmed once more and his cock twitched inside of you.

"You're not done yet, are you, Princess?" He purred into your ear, making it flicker as he rolled his hips against yours, even if overstimulation rocked his entire system in a flash of shot nerves.

None of that mattered to him. He had a mission. A mission he would do anything to accomplish.

Anything to keep you as his.

Yes, the reader was holding the Light Sword. Yes, I know that's not how you get it. I just thought it would be a cool tidbit bc YES, Sage seems like the type to get turned on by a hot princess threatening with a sword.

[ponett]

I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

[chairofchaos]

Bargains and Fights: A Letters of Love Short Story

Summary: Convincing a former spymaster to sit for a series of in-depth interviews is no small task, but someone has to. Arbora rises to the challenge.

Rating: Teen (language. ACOTAR universe training style fighting.)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I make absolutely zero promises for how you will feel at the end of this. @chunkypossum, this one is for you!!

“Papa,” Arbora walked quietly towards her father in the clearing where he often did his daily training. It was dawn, the crisp air complimented by a thin shroud of mist dancing along the ground.

His head angled towards her, but Azriel, her Papa, did not rise from his plank, even as his wings folded in from their stretch. “Good morning,” he smiled at her, a small upturning of his lips that she returned easily. “You’re earlier than usual.”

“I had something to ask you.” She stopped where she could look at him, so he could see all of her except what was masked by the wisps of mist at her feet. He took her in curiously, seeing in her face something that caused his eyes to narrow almost imperceptibly. It took a considerable amount of effort to not reach for the tail of the braid which hung over her shoulder, brushing her waistband. The inky blackness was the mirror image of the hair which sat atop her Papa’s head, save for its length.

“Ask away,” he eased, swinging one foot forward to give himself the ability to stand.

“I want you to do the interviews.”

He brushed his hands against his thighs, a thin smudge of mud left in their wake. “That’s not a question. I don’t understand your obsession with our love life, Arbora.”

“It isn’t an obsession.” The words slipped from her mouth, a sentence that had been bitten from her tongue time and again. “Father is doing it.” Her arguments were weak. She knew that. But if she told him what she knew, what Aunt Elain had shared with her, he would never do it. She would be lucky if he ever told her a story from his life again. She could share it with him later once he felt the impact of talking through everything, but not now. Not before.

“And why? He won’t tell me,” he leveled at her, gesturing for her to join him as he started to move through more movements to gently prepare his body for the fighting they would do. She had dropped her satchel at the edge of the clearing, so she did, planting her feet on the ground and starting to slowly move through the movements of the eight-pointed star that she had grown intimately familiar with over the last four centuries.

“I want to have a record of it. You two accomplished a great deal. It’s much less about your ‘love life’ than it is about the history you made. Aunt Feyre was the first High Lady crowned. But you and Father were the first pair of High Lords in history. That’s notable.”

“What purpose would it serve? We know the story. Ash can tell most of it word for word.”

“I can’t,” she countered, swinging a leg behind her in parallel movement with her father. The slow movements would increase in speed over the next half hour, until they were warmed enough to begin fighting, first her and Ash, then the two of them against their father. When they were tired, he would spar with both her and Ash individually, using any weaknesses he had observed in their fight with each other against them. It made them stronger: their exhaustion pitted against him at his most forceful; their mistakes wielded against them.

More and more frequently, they would beat him. Over three hundred years ago, Arbora had bested him on her own for the first time. It was a day neither of them was likely to forget.

Papa waited until they faced the same direction before responding. “I am not sure I care to record the hardships of our lives.”

“It would be just as much about the joys,” she countered.

“Why do you want it so much?” He ignored her statement, stilling all movements to face her with crossed arms. An opponent, every muscle and ounce of attention focused on her. He had rarely looked at her this way. She relished it more than she hated it, rejoicing in the waves of glee and pride that he regarded her as an equal in this, even though as High Lord, he could stop her requests with one order. She let her hands fall to her sides, meeting his eyes with a fire to counter his pensive but chilly glare.

“I want to have it available. For us, yes. But for future generations. For a millennium from now, or ten, so that they may know the fight you fought with Father to have everything you have now.”

He sighed. “I doubt many will care.”

“I care,” she whispered. “Ash and Carmine care, too, they just don’t know it yet.”

“And you do?” He tilted his head at the small indication that she may know more that she wasn’t sharing.

Arbora sank her teeth into the tip of her tongue.

“I’ll make you a bargain,” he said, uncrossing his arms with a growing smirk. “If you beat me today, I will do the interviews. As many as you would like.”

“If you promise the truth. Everything, as you remember it,” she added.

He paused before nodding in agreement.

“And you and I fight first, while we’re both at full strength.”

“Alright,” the smirk slid into a full smile this time, his eyes gleaming at the challenge she had leveled at him. “If you lose, you train with the Valkyries an hour each day in addition to what we do, and you never ask me to do the interviews again.”

She balked at that. The Valkyries’ training was an easy thing to concede to. She liked them and enjoyed their company when she joined them once a week in Velaris. Forcing her never to ask him again was the bitter pill.  But he hadn’t said that Ash or Carmine couldn’t ask him. She could easily recruit her brothers, or maybe Father… Perhaps even Uncle Cassian or Uncle Lucien could be persuaded to push him in the right direction.

“I agree.” Immediately, she felt the sting of magic against her upper left arm. His shirt was looser than her tight long-sleeved jacket, so she watched as he yanked it over his head to examine his newest tattoo.

A band of shadows, which looked almost exactly like the shadows which now examined the tattoo, banded around his arm, nearly two inches thick and dark. As Papa raised his arm, she saw the symbol the Cauldron had seen fit to represent her with in this bargain.

At the center of the inside of his arm was a symbol she had sketched but never shown to anyone. A crest shaped like a shield held four divided sections. Her stylized initials, A.V., in the left corner. A circle intersected by a pen in the top right for the symphonia and pen she used in her research. At the bottom left, an Illyrian blade and a ribbon as an ode to the training she had received from Azriel and the Valkyries. And at the bottom right, a book, the one that would be born from the work she would do as soon as she won this fight.

Dividing the sections were the four points of a compass. If you knew to look for it, you would find that the angle of the blade, the pen, the center seam of the angled, open book and the slant of her initials formed the other four points of an eight-pointed star.

The crest sat atop the band, nearly four inches long from top to bottom and easily seen in its entirety.

She tore her eyes from it, looking at her papa’s surprised face as he examined the crest.

“What is this?” he asked, turning his gaze to her.

“I designed it,” she shrugged. She had long since mastered a cool avoidance for when she didn’t wish to answer questions and knew her Papa would recognize it immediately.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He pulled his shirt back over his head, murmuring with an air of amused resignation, “Just like your Father.”

Ash walked out of the trees at the edge of the clearing, his light brown hair and brown skin giving him the appearance of a forest spirit which had just stepped from within its tree. Arbora looked at him, scanning quickly for any sign that he should not join them today.

“Are we training today?” he asked quietly. Of the three Vanserra children, Ash held the most resemblance to Papa’s quiet nature. Papa nodded at him. “Yes. But first your sister and I have a fight to keep. You can warm up, then observe.”

“Is this what the bargain is about?” Ash asked. Arbora nodded. He snorted at his sister. “Best of luck.”

“Thanks,” she grinned at him, then turned to her father. “I’m warmed up enough. I started before I walked over.”

“Alright. What type of fight?” He asked her. She considered for a moment before tilting her head. “You pick.”

He grinned. “Daggers.” It was the middle ground. She preferred hand to hand combat, her quickness and lightness on her feet among her greater strengths. Had he chosen the broadswords or Illyrian blades, he would likely overpower her quickly. He truly wanted a fair fight.

“Fine,” she nodded, summoning three from her bag. One got tucked into her waistband, the other two resting in her palms.

Ash slipped from her notice entirely as her eyes met Papa’s and the battle began. Papa would want her to strike first. She stayed exactly where she was and let him begin to circle her, pushing her toward the center of the clearing. Still, she waited, crouched slightly with her weight centered.

It lasted a good two minutes before Papa grew bored with her evasion and threw himself in her direction.

She ran at him, but instead of moving to strike, she dropped, sliding beneath him into the mist and mud and then winnowing to get out of reach on the other side of the clearing. He whirled to face her.

“You didn’t say no powers,” she taunted.

“I didn’t think I needed to,” he countered. It was their usual rule, but this was no ordinary fight. This fight was one she intended to win. Any bladed battle meant they went to first blood drawn. She had barely missed his leg on the slide through.

He glared, tapping his siphons quickly so his siphoned armor slid over his body. She simply smirked in response, winnowing to kick him in the back of the knee before winnowing back to where she had just been. His snarl followed her as he disappeared in a blur of shadows. She forced herself to run to the center of the clearing. Her power available to winnow would only last so long.

He appeared beside her, blades flashing as she lunged to the side, spinning to angle a dagger for a slice at his ribcage.

He almost got her hand with his answering blows, but she ducked them, turning her side to him. She threw a dagger casually behind her, ridding herself of the unnecessary extra weapon and distracting him enough that she could kick her right leg up, wrapping it around his extended left arm and sending him careening to the side. He dropped his dagger, which she snatched before it even hit the ground. The one she had discarded slid across the clearing, pushed out of his reach by her magic.

He would replace the dagger quickly, so she whirled in a furious maelstrom, blades glinting as the sun’s rays began to beam through the trees. He met her blow for blow, landing a kick to her thigh that she thought may have been enough to bruise bone, but she did not falter.

He would not break her. She had to win. She took a chance. She would not falter. She could not fail.

A kick to his chest was a metaphorical death sentence. He would grab her ankle, flip her onto her back and have a knife at her throat faster than she could respond.

Nor could she do what she had just done to throw him off balance. A lesser warrior, especially one without wings, would have been in the dirt with that. But not her Papa.

So instead, she aimed lower, kicking him in the inner thigh while aiming for his hand with the dagger, then punching him at his temple with her opposite fist. The next kick was to the knee she had kicked earlier. A low blow, but she would do anything short of touching his wings to win. He staggered a little, reaching towards his ankle for the dagger strapped there. He was off balance. She winnowed to his side faster than he could blink and tackled him to the earth, pinning one arm beneath him and the other beneath her knee, trapping his hips beneath her other shin. She pushed the tip of her dagger slowly against his chin until a bead of blood appeared.

He breathed hard, the adrenaline of the fight coursing through him. She removed some pressure from the dagger, swiping a finger through that bead and showed it to him. “Do you yield?”

He swore. “I yield.” She jumped off him immediately, braid swinging behind her. He extended a hand upward, and she took it to help him up, but he grinned suddenly and kicked a foot out, connecting with her hip and swinging her body over his so she was thrown over his head and onto her back with a “Fuck!” She had tucked enough to not hit her head. But her shoulder was going to bruise badly. She closed her eyes to better regain the breath that had been forced from her with sudden brutality.

When she opened them again, he was waiting, standing above her with a smug grin. His wing angled to block the sunlight from her face, its surface coated in as much mud as she was sure she was.

“I yielded. I didn’t say I wanted to be done fighting,” Papa taunted.

“I won the bargain fight,” Arbora said firmly.

“Yes,” he allowed, rolling his eyes again. “Get up.”

“Are we going again?” She swatted away the hand he offered with a pointed look, sitting up and then rolling onto her feet.

“Yes. No blades this time?”

Ash cut in from where he watched on the side. “I think you two had better give it a rest. Father won’t like it if Papa gets any more bruises on his face.”

The fighters exchanged a glance, then looked at Ash. He just sighed. “Your funeral.”

They grinned and launched themselves back into one more battle of wills.

***

Two hours later, the three of them walked back to the Forest House looking like they had just emerged from a bog.

They had moved slowly, Ash walking next to Papa on the trail and Arbora trailing behind. She could see the mud smeared in Ash’s hair, making it stand up in odd peaks and stick out from the side of his head as though he had been shocked.

When Papa picked up the pace and flared his wings slightly, she knew they were in sight of the house. Father would be waiting for them, his morning briefing over. He enjoyed doing it alone in favor of letting Papa train them. It was a division of labor that kept them both happy. Ash stopped and let Papa go, falling back to talk to her.

“I think he’s slowing down,” Ash said softly. Arbora sighed. It was a debate they had held many times in the last few years. “You beat your record time for taking him down.”

“Maybe he let me win,” she countered.

Her brother shook his head. Papa was nearly to the stairs, but Ash put a hand on Arbora’s wrist. “Arbora. He’s weakening.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

It was Ash’s turn to sigh. This discussion was going like most of the others they had fought, save for the lack of Carmine’s mediation. “You beat him. He was at full strength. It happens sometimes, but you beat him yesterday, too.”

“He’s not that old, Ash,” she argued, flipping her braid behind her with a snarl. “He’s just as strong as he was five years ago.”

“Oh? And when was the last time he had Uncle Cassian here? Papa still trains the same as always. Cassian does too, you know it.”

“They’re busy,” she snapped. “The High Lords’ meeting is coming.”

“Or Papa just doesn’t want to worry Cassian,” Ash countered, rocking back onto his heels. “You have to acknowledge they don’t fight the way they used to.”

“That’s not surprising. They haven’t been in war since before I was born.”

“If a war was coming, you think they would be the elite warriors they were in the war against Hybern? Against Koschei?”

“Yes!” she shouted, throwing her hands up at her brother’s ridiculously even tone. “Of course I do.”

“They aren’t,” Ash shook his head with certainty. “I remember. I remember training with them in the early years. They don’t have the same speed. Or dexterity. Papa’s hands get stiffer every year. It’s a wonder he can still hold a broadsword.”

“They aren’t old.”

“No,” he allowed. “But they aren’t young, either.”

Arbora’s next argument was cut off suddenly.

“Arbora! Ash!” Father stood by the railing with red hair glinting, Papa looking like little more than a shadow lurking behind him.

“Coming!” They yelled, glancing at each other before breaking into a light jog.

The distance to the house gave Arbora a second to clear her head, wiping the tension from her face as she approached the porch.

“What were you two arguing about?” Father asked them, eyes bouncing between theirs as he observed. Papa leaned back against the house, leaving a smear of mud on the wall. He would clean it up later. He was good about that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ash answered levelly. Arbora kept her mouth shut. She would do them no good at all.

Father knew it, too. She saw his eyebrow raise in her direction, and still said nothing. He gave up after a minute, turning to look at Papa, who just shrugged. “They were fine five minutes ago.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Don’t let it affect things.”

“We won’t,” Arbora promised.

Father nodded, then added with a sweep of his eyes across the three of them, "And don't think I didn't notice the bruises on your faces underneath the mud."

Arbora bit back a smile as Papa disguised a laugh with a well-timed cough. Father just sighed, shaking his head and turning to the door.

Silently, the family trailed inside, Father to the right to go back to his office, and Papa, Ash, and Arbora to the left to drop their weapons and bags in the mud room. They would be cleaned just as soon as their owners weren’t tracking mud with every step.

Ash held back once more, lowering his head slightly to whisper in Arbora’s ear. “We’re not done with that, you know.”

She glared at him in response. Still, he said nothing. Papa called over his shoulder, “When you two are done bickering like children, come clean up. We all have too much to do today to get distracted with a brawl.”

Arbora stalked away from her brother. It couldn’t be helped, she knew. Ash was concerned. Maybe he was right to be, but she didn’t see it. Her Papa was as strong as ever. He had to be.

***

A/N: I swear I tried to make this short. I refuse to swear that I tried to leave it on a happy ending. Sorry, but... not really!

Taglist: @c-starstuff-man0 @talibunny30 @jir67 @ninthcircleofprythian @slowpress

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 43 - Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk

Oh this was fun. Never would have heard of it if it hadn’t been nominated for a Hugo, and devoured it in the course of a computer-less Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t exactly reaching for the stars, but it knew what it was about and it executed it well; there’s a real virtue to that. Also I adore slightly cheesy but self-serious noir and the early 20th century really is the ideal setting for classical urban fantasy.

The story follows Helen, a private investigator and warlock in 1930s Chicago. Ten years prior to the story, she sold her soul to a demon to resurrect her younger brother from a car crash that would have otherwise killed her entire family – for her trouble, she was cast out from the magical brotherhood training her as a mystic and forced to make a living as a cut-rate diviner and gumshoe in Chicago. The plot kicks off three days before the deal comes due and her soul’s forfeit, and she takes one last consulting job to add a bit more to the nest egg she’ll be leaving for her girlfriend Edith when she’s torn from the mortal coil. And then, of course, she finds out that a) her employer is a demon, b) the case she’s consulting on is someone ritually murdering other poor souls who’ve made deals, days before they come due, and c) if she solves it she’ll get her soul back, along with enough money to make to San Francisco with Edith and start a new life free and clear.

So this is not a book that sets out to surprise the reader. The storytelling is efficient and the foreshadowing is reasonably honest – you can guess just about every twist well ahead of time with even the slightest bit of effort. I’d say the book isn’t trying to break any new ground, but actually it’s the only example I can think off hand of this sort of genre emulation period piece that both has a queer protagonist and doesn’t either elide or edit out the homophobia of the their environment, so there is that. Anyway, ‘genre emulation’ is the right term I think – snappy, tightly written noir plot that doesn’t outlast its welcome (this was absolutely a novella-sized story).

I really don’t know the author or their work well enough to know how intentional it is, but the ending very much felt like a comment on the whole Bury Your Gays/Tragic Lesbian trope. Essentially, Edith gets herself heroically sacrificed saving Helen’s life in the climactic showdown. Then, once the dust has settled and Marlow (her demonic client) has given Helen her soul back she…immediately sells it again to bring her back. Better ten years of Californian bliss with her true love then an eternity in heaven (and besides, that brother she’d saved the first time had just killed an angel, so someone’s going to need to keep him company in hell). The book’s title is in no way subtle or metaphorical, it is a line of the protagonist’s internal monologue.

The story’s universe is a folk-Christian one, and it is absolutely imperative that when reading it you don’t poke at the underlying metaphysics at all. Angels and demons are real and magicians are the distant descendants of Nephilim and some of the Grigori still haunt the earth, and we have it on good authority that God doesn’t actually care about being gay and everyone seems very frightened of the idea of summoning the Archangel Michael to earth, but start asking any followup questions about angels and world events during the Roosevelt Administration and you’re ruin the story for yourself. Just don’t worry about it.

As a final note, I really did love Marlowe – or properly, she’s one of my favorite types of demons in these sorts of stories. Epitome of high class beauty, lives in a palatial penthouse waited upon handed and foot by layers of servants, eats the best food and wears the best clothes and has the best lovers, even a generous employer and creditor as long as you do what she wants and give her what she’s owed. The sort of demon who seems like falling out of heaven was worth it, and one you can imagine actually convincing someone to sell their soul. She’s fun!

[jae-bummer]

The Color of Love

Request: If you're still accepting requests with that prompt list, I'd absolutely love to request 11/soulmate au with Jooheon if possible! 🥺 There are never enough MX fics, especially not adorable fluffy ones!

Prompt:

11) Soulmate AU

Pairing: Monsta X Jooheon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

Every love story was different, but always held the same three characteristics.

It could be ANYONE. Literally any person you pass on the street could be your soulmate. Didn't feel tiny in the expansive universe already?

It could happen at ANY time. Fifth grade math lesson? Accidental shoulder check at the grocery store? Awkward doctor's appointment? There was no telling where love would rear its ugly head.

Love in this new age? It always started with a burst of color.

"All I could see was this bright green going from my hand down my forearm," your best friend, Mina, rushed out excitedly. "It almost made me drop the weight I was holding."

"That's great, babe," you smiled, trying to be happy for her. "Who is the lucky guy?"

"His name is Hajoon," she continued dreamily. "I guess he'd seen me at the gym before but was too scared to say anything. Isn't that adorable?"

You would probably be going to Hell for not being over the moon for your best friend, but it was hard when you were still waiting.

Society put such an emphasis on finding your soulmate, it was impossible to think of much else. Going about your day, you tried to pay attention to who you brushed past or made casual physical contact with. That's how you would know.

When you touched your soulmate, color would bloom across your skin at the point of impact.

"Super cute," you sighed, avoiding eye contact. "So he saw you start to struggle and saved the day by spotting you?"

"Mhm," she hummed. "As soon as his fingers touched the back of my hand, it was like someone threw dye onto our arms. It was the craziest thing!"

"Sounds beautiful," you nodded, giving your best effort at a smile.

Clocking your failed attempts at support, Mina smiled sadly in return. "It's going to happen for you soon. I can feel it."

"Can you pass some of that feeling to me?" you grumbled. "I'd prefer not to ruin such a big day for my best friend."

"Hush," she cooed, wrapping an arm around you. "You haven't ruined anything. Sour mood or not, I have some good news."

"What's that?"

"Hajoon works for an entertainment company," she nodded. "He's an executive-"

"Cute AND rich?" you teased. "That IS some excellent news for you."

Smacking at your leg, Mina continued. "He asked if I wanted to go to a concert put on by his work. We have plans to meet up after, but do you want to go to the concert with me? He said I could bring a friend while he's working backstage on things."

"Why not?" you sighed. "Maybe I'll get elbowed in the crowd and accidentally find my soulmate."

"That's the spirit!"

.

A few days later, you allowed Mina to get you dressed up, acting as her doll for the night. You could admit that you were going through the motions as you followed her to the venue. Determined to make sure it was a good night for her, you put on as bright of a smile as you could when she handed you a light stick.

"The group is called Monsta X," she instructed. "They have six members, and their music is really exciting."

"Got it," you nodded, positive you had listened to their songs before. "Who's my favorite?"

"Not Hyungwon," she grinned. "He's my favorite."

"Point him out to me so I know to stay clear," you chuckled.

"We also have a high touch after," she said brightly, tugging you through the crowd.

"High touch," you confirmed, searching your brain for what exactly that meant. "Can't wait."

"You're going to have fun," Mina said slowly, looking over her shoulder at you. "I promise."

And she was right, the show was a blast. You had never experienced a live concert like Monsta X's before. The energy of the crowed literally radiated through your body. You were right that you had heard some of their music before and sang along to all of the songs you knew. Being lost in the crowd that was all feeling the same electricity was incredible. It's like you were one giant, synchronous being.

After the show, you were a bit flustered from all the activity, nearly forgetting you had a chance to meet the idols before leaving (yes, you did break down and ask Mina what exactly a high touch was). Allowing her to once again navigate you to where you needed to be, it wasn't long before you were thrust in front of the very men you had been howling at only minutes before.

Pushing you in front of her, Mina pointed to the first member facing your way for the high touch. "That's Hyungwon."

Assessing him, you could easily see why he was her favorite. Handsome was an understatement, this man was ethereal. "Yeeaah he is."

"Y/N," your friend giggled, giving you a slight push. Taking the few steps forward, you slapped your hand in his for a high five. The moment lasted only seconds but there was a bit of a rush to meeting a celebrity.

Next came a tall, tan, and buff member you would later learn was Shownu.

After, you locked eyes with the third member, remembering him as one of the vibrant mood makers of the group. He had been incredible on stage.

As your hand skid across his, you shot back with a gasp.

"Yah!" the member shouted, hopping backwards as well. His focus ricocheted from his palm to yours, mouth completely agape. Looking down in fascination, colors began to wrap around his wrist and trickle down his arm.

Shocked by what was happening, you glanced down at your own arm as well, getting lost in the cloud-like imagery blossoming across your skin.

Gasps erupted around you by both spectators and other Monsta X members. You couldn't help but feel like you did something wrong. Like you weren't allowed to have someone so interesting and good looking as a soulmate.

This simply could not be possible.

"Hey!" Jooheon yelled, bringing your attention back to him. He wasn't talking to you, but shouting at a staff member while aggressively waving them over. "Yo!"

Snapping out of it a bit, you took another step back, only to be slightly held up by Mina behind you. This was sensory overload to the nth degree.

"Y/N," she hissed, her own eyes darting across the scene. "Did...did you just sync up with Jooheon? Is he your soulmate?"

Jooheon. You had never heard his name before, but it just sounded right.

"I...I think so," you managed, not entirely believing what was happening.

A staff member had finally appeared, listening to Jooheon as he rapid-fired the situation to his manager. Occasionally shooting looks of surprise your way, he didn't stop talking until they had both sidled up to you.

"We're stepping away from the high touch," his manager explained, taking you by the elbow and guiding you towards an adjacent hallway. "The fan meet will continue without Joohoney."

"That's not fair," you said slowly, shaking your head. Glancing to the man you assumed you were tied to for life now, you heaved a sigh. "Your fans have waited so long for you."

Looking helplessly back and forth between you and his manager, Jooheon croaked. "But you're my soulmate."

"I'm not saying I'm going to disappear," you smiled reassuringly. "I'll just wait until you're done. I've waited this long."

Giving a curt nod, Jooheon's eyes searched your face for a moment. His lips pulled into a slow smile before he reached up, giving your nose a boop. Immediately, his manager's jaw dropped, presumably as color stretched across the middle of your face.

Pleased with himself, Jooheon turned on his heel and took up his spot behind the table again. Maintaining eye contact with you, he offered a dazzling smile.

"Alright," his manager breathed out on a sigh. "Let's get you backstage, shall we?"

.

Lost in your phone, trying to explain what was going on to the friend you had abandoned, you almost didn't notice him walk in.

Hearing the quiet click of the door closing, your head immediately snapped up to see Jooheon leaning against the entrance. His expression was full of hope, with a fringe of excitement. You could tell he was trying to reign in his enthusiasm. Judging by how hard he went on the stage; he seemed like a very reactive person. This quiet and careful side of him wasn't something you had really expected.

You supposed you had a lot to learn.

Crossing the room slowly, he took a seat on the coffee table in front of the couch you were sitting on. He bracketed your knees with his, creating an intimate space between the two of you.

Without hesitation, he took your hands gently between his, a light purple color already blooming from your fingertips. "Y/N, right?"

You barely remembered telling his manager your name, so he likely got passed the information.

"That's me."

"My soulmate."

You nodded weakly, looking from your joined hands and back up to his face. He smiled again before lifting your fingers to his mouth and kissing each tip in turn. As he did, it was like dropping food coloring into a glass of water. Different hues clouded out of your joints and went swirling around your skin. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

Glancing up, you were immediately struck by the bright blue peppering Jooheon's mouth like ink blots. Slowly the color started to fade as your skin had lost contact with his mouth, but you still felt mesmerized by the whole experience.

"You're so beautiful," you said quietly, your eyes locking on his.

He gave you a close-lipped smile before tilting his head. Narrowing his eyes, he lifted his arm, and traced a small line on your cheekbone. You didn't have to see the result yourself to know that the visual had just as much of an effect on him as it did you.

"This is beautiful," he finally responded, dropping his hands to gather yours again. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of it."

"Me either," you breathed.

"I guess it gives me an excuse to hold your hand," he grinned, his eyes disappearing as it grew.

"You didn't need an excuse in the first place!" you laughed. "You're my soulmate now. You can hold my hand whenever you want."

"My soulmate," he whispered again. Each time he had voiced the words, there was a constant undertone of wonder.

"I don't think I'll get tired of hearing you say that," you chuckled, sure a blush was blazing across your face.

Jooheon furrowed his brows in thought. "Did you come to the show today as a fan? Was I your favorite?"

You coughed out a surprised laugh.

"It would be really awkward if you had a different favorite. If it was someone else, don't tell me who...

Okay, who was it?"

You continued to laugh as you shook your head. "I was only ever a casual fan. My friend had tickets and insisted I tag along. I promise I will be a Monbebe going forward, and you will always be my favorite."

"Damn right," he muttered. "And stay away from Minhyuk. He's more charming than I'd ever admit to him, and I don't want you getting caught in his cute little clutches."

"I will remain unshaken in my loyalty," you affirmed with a smirk. Plus, you had no idea who Minhyuk was, so that helped.

It was crazy to think of. If Mina didn't bring you here today, would you have ever discovered that Jooheon existed? Let alone that he was your soulmate?

You didn't want to think too hard on it. The universe worked in mysterious ways that you didn't expect to ever be privy to.

"So..." you hummed, glancing at Jooheon through your lashes. "What now?"

"Everything," he grinned, squeezing your hand. "We only have forever to figure out what happens next."

[queenofbaws]

It’s not the weekend quite yet but I’ll be busy hosting myself a little birthday tea party of one and don’t want to forget this. Once again an Okkervil River prompt: the song black sheep boy for any fandom.

not-quite-six sentence weekend :P

The house had never felt emptier than it had when he'd first been released from the hospital, stitches tight and the smell of antiseptic high in his nose. It had been empty for a long time, really - if you sat and thought about it, that was - because Pop was always off working, and Mom was always out schmoozing, and the twins...

It had been empty for a long time. It just felt emptier now, somehow.

He'd sat and suffered through enough Lit classes for the irony to gag him; home was where the heart was, home was always waiting for you, there was nothing like coming home, home was anywhere you felt it, blah blah fucking blah. Josh didn't feel any of that as he unlaced his shoes and set his keys in the dish. If he felt anything at all, it was tired. And even that wasn't quite right.

By the time the sun had hidden away behind the neat row of houses across the street, he'd gotten rid of every photograph he could. That was dramatic. An exaggeration. He'd turned them around, though, or laid them flat on their faces, toppling them like dominoes until he was positive - absolutely sure - that there weren't any eyes on him. Not his parents', not his sisters', not their fri...not anyone's. He didn't want to be seen, wasn't even sure he deserved to be.

At some point, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. It was hard to say when, but harder to say how. There'd been a few days there where he'd been sure he'd never sleep again (not without the drugs they'd been pumping him full of back at the hospital, anyway, or maybe a good old fashioned mallet to the head). Lo and behold, fallen asleep he had, and as he rolled onto his back, blearily staring at the shadows shifting and sliding on the ceiling, flickering in time with the late-night show playing on the tv, he struggled to figure out what'd done it.

Had he been dreaming? Felt likely, all considering. Or maybe remembering was the better word, his brain not spinning stories out of whole cloth but instead piecing them together from everything that had happened lately: the mountain, the monsters, the mayhem, the mealy-mouthed ranger who'd told him, almost matter-of-factly, that only two of them had made it, that only two of them -

And then the knocking had come again, and the question answered itself.

He knew the sound of it at once. It was too clear, too familiar, and for that reason he was almost positive he was dreaming after all. There wasn't any way that could be who he thought it was. No way in hell. He sat up slowly, watching the front door with suspicion and detachment in equal measure, and when it came a third time, he took to his feet.

Once, he'd fancied himself a horror buff - the kind of guy who didn't flinch in the face of the goriest or most gruesome. Just then, he found he didn't have the strength to check the peephole. He opened the door before he could think himself out of it.

The silence that followed probably lasted a second. Maybe half that. Maybe even less. It felt like forever. It felt like how he imagined limbo, or purgatory, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

Despite all the effort he'd put into turning her pictures over, Ashley Brown stood on the welcome mat, looking at him. Watching him. Seeing him. Her boots rubbed anxious circles on the nap of the mat, her hands rubbed at her arms, and her bruises hurt him to look at.

Josh wasn't sure what he expected her to say. What could a person say at a time like this? Hi? Howya doing? Would she just fling herself at him, beat her fists against him until his eyes were as swollen as hers? Spit at him? On him? Remind him that this was all his fault? Every last second of it? Hold him accountable for every loss, every death, every -

"So," she said softly, her voice rasped, maybe from disuse or from crying or screaming so hard into her pillow at night that something simply tore. "Guess it's just you and me now, huh?"

When he swallowed, he swore he felt sandpaper lining his throat; the same sandpaper, he had to imagine, she felt in hers. "Guess so," he agreed after a beat, then stood there, same as he had been, feeling her eyes on him, wishing he didn't. "Guess so," he said again, no longer sure whether he was answering her or convincing himself, not entirely positive there was a difference. He took a step back - just the one - and held the door open an inch wider than before, a silent question with no good answers.

Ashley watched him, and he watched her, the wound in his shoulder pulsing a Morse code reminder that the parts of the brain responsible for love and for hate lived right beside one another, that both of them were capable of hurting, of being hurt.

Josh held the door. He waited.

He realized the house didn't feel quite so empty now.

[dolceaspidenera]

Our Personal Take on Baldur’s Gate 3

Foreword

After many hours of gameplay and the initial excitement about Baldur's Gate 3, it's finally time to switch back on our brains' critical and analytical parts and express a more articulated opinion on the game.

Even though it’s likely that this letter will only reach a few people, we’ll try to get our thoughts out there for anyone to read.

DISCLAIMERS: what follows is intended as constructive criticism towards the game from fans who have little to no experience in game development beyond what is publicly and generally available, alongside a small taste of it during the academic career of one of the writers. This letter was written before Patch #1. If in the meantime, anything we've pointed out has been corrected, we'll be more than happy about that! 

Also, this post has no intention whatsoever to belittle Larian's effort, to whom goes our greatest appreciation and gratitude for making such a beautiful, rich, interesting, fun game, which respects us fans and consumers beyond what the market has led us to expect from other game-development companies. This game is simply beyond greatness in a gaming landscape filled with micro-transactions, poor and recycled content, washed-out stories, and live services, it’s clear how it's a work of passion down to the last single, accurately crafted detail. 

All the praise the game is receiving is absolutely well deserved, and since most of the good stuff has already been said, we've decided to focus our attention on the type of content we’d like to see more and that we felt there was a lack of.

We'll be discussing the following topics:

Interactions with/between companions;

Skill checks management;

Party management. 

Lastly, this post has been cooperatively written with @myopic-skull, but in the following, the singular first person will be used to enhance the experiences of each player.

Thanks for reading and sticking with us; we hope you will appreciate our ideas and points of view and beware of the long post under the cut.

Interactions and Dialogues

Scarcity of Dialogues Between the Main Character and Companions

After many hours of gameplay, I've been feeling a lack of dialogue with the companions. 

I must admit that I am one of those people who would gladly spend hours talking to everyone in the camp at each chance they get, while I understand that other people don't care about this aspect of the game and skip most dialogues to get back to the gameplay. Still, I think that dialogues are a fundamental aspect of RPGs.

Of course, worldbuilding and plot — of which there is definitely no lack in Baldur's Gate 3 — are also pillars of this genre, but after all, the strong relations you tie with the other characters and the affection towards them are what make you feel deep inside you that your choices have consequences, and that those consequences carry a huge weight, that let you realise that the stakes are high and that they would affect someone you've grown fond of and care about.

Please, Larian, grant me the possibility to spend more time with my companions, talk to them more, and get to know them better. It's frustrating how each time I go back to the camp, I'm hoping to read new dialogues and discuss the recent events, just to end up reading the same old default lines. I'm not saying that the characters are uninteresting or badly written. Quite the opposite! It’s because they are such interesting characters that I crave to know more and to discover every little detail about their stories and personalities, and above all else, to spend more time with them.

⚠ Spoilers about Act 2 ahead! Astarion's backstory is incredible. I love how Larian handled such a character. I've loved the revelation that for him, sex has been weaponized, that it's been a traumatic experience about which he never had any freedom of choice and that it's become second nature for him to use it to manipulate people. Also, I love that Shadowheart's story touches on topics such as religious trauma and how many small details about her she reveals to the Main Character — such as her fear of wolves, her favourite flower, etc. These are just a couple of examples of the fantastic work I think Larian has done. End of spoilers ⚠

The problem is that these discoveries and interactions are spread over way too many hours, especially in Act 2, while Act 1 seems denser. The evolution of relationships with the characters doesn't develop organically through many conversations that let you know more about them. It's mostly dependent on their personal quests, leading to many hours of silence or irrelevant dialogues, eventually leaving the feeling that the pacing is off. Even after huge events, there's been a lack of comments by the companions, usually only a couple of lines where you don’t get to answer anything.

Scarcity of Party Banters and Dialogues between Companions

I know it may not look like a big part of the game, but the small interactions between party members can go a long way regarding their characterization and building a sense of cooperation and group dynamics.

Sadly, despite the over 100 hours of gameplay and having reached Act 3, most of the time has been spent in total silence when it comes to the companions. Maybe just three to four interactions in the beginning, but definitely not more. Nevertheless, I can't be sure not to be experiencing a bug that may be causing this problem. In fact, I'm curious to find out what other people's experience has been when it comes to this, because I'm suffering due to this lack of interactions.

Thinking back to games like Dragon Age: Origins and Mass Effect — which I believe Baldur's Gate 3 to be the closest heir of — there were many more episodes where the party would talk to each other, helping with the immersion in the game's world. Moreover, they helped to flesh out the characters, to make them feel more real, and they were ultimately fun to listen to. This has always been one of the facets of this genre that I loved the most, and it's sad to experience so few interactions while playing Baldur's Gate 3. This feels like a missed opportunity, especially given the huge potential of its wonderful characters and the amazing voice actors who give them life.

The dialogues between Morrigan and Alistair in Dragon Age: Origins were extremely fun and entertaining, giving the illusion that the characters were more than a bunch of polygons and some scripted lines. Not to be forgotten are also the exhilarating interactions between Zevran and Wynne or Shale's rants against pigeons after spending centuries as a statue. And can we not think about the embarrassing and beautifully cringe conversations in the Citadel's escalator in Mass Effect? And these are just a few examples. They may seem like small details in the grand scheme of these games' massive plots, but these details are what make us care for the characters, what we think about with a smile while reminiscing about these games, and what makes these characters feel like old friends who made us laugh, cry, and think. It's strange how Larian has thought of so many other great details with Baldur's Gate 3, but has ultimately skipped this particular aspect of the Role-Playing part of the game.

Just to put it into perspective and give a better idea:

Dragon Age: Origins has almost 3h40' of banter. Party banter | Dragon Age: Origins

Dragon Age: Inquisition has close to 5h30' of banter. Party banter [complete] | Dragon Age: Inquisition

Baldur's Gate 3's early access appeared to have around 20 minutes of banter, and most of it is now in Act 1, while Acts 2 and 3 are especially empty. Party banter | Baldur's Gate 3 [Early Access]

Mutual Exclusion of Character's Interventions During Dialogues

I'm frustrated by the fact that the intervention or the comment by a party member during a dialogue prevents any other comments from any other party member from happening, especially when we know that there won't likely be any others when the dialogue is over and that probably nobody will react to it. I don't feel like this adds to the replayability of the scene or of the game. I think it just gives the sensation of missing out on content and the chance to get to know the characters better. Also, the interactions are so randomised that by reloading the game, we might hear the same line over and over again before someone else says something different. This is different from the feeling that choosing a different answer may open up new paths and lead to a different outcome. This is just a feeling of missing out on content and being locked out from all the possible experiences.

For example, I recently had to reload a dialogue due to terrible dice rolls — I know. Please don't judge me. The Dice Gods have hated me enough already while playing D&D irl. - The first time, I heard a comment by Shadowheart, while the second time Astarion, whom I'm currently romancing, expressed some concern for my character in his usual sarcastic, subtle way. If I hadn't reloaded, I would have missed this small but cute and interesting detail, which is also narratively significant.

Also, there are little to no interactions between the characters in this sense. The dialogue between Astarion and Shadowheart during the scene with Abdirak, Loviatar's follower, is exhilaratingly funny, and I would love to see more interactions like this one.

I love how each character is extremely supportive of the others when something big happens to them. But this is only shown when explicitly interacting with them, never in a spontaneous way between them or through party banter.

Skill Checks Management

We're a party and we're working together: why, for example, shouldn't the big, strong, muscular barbarian be able to intervene when the situation calls for some intimidation or the strength to kick down a door? I really miss this feature in the game, which would help a lot in conveying the sense of teamwork and of belonging to a real D&D-style party.

Party Management

Let's face it, it's tedious to manage the party.

Instead of relying on a quick and easy interface like the one from Dragon Age: Origins maybe, managing all the companions, swapping the equipment, levelling up, and changing who's part of the actual party is a hassle. You need to listen to the same couple of lines every time for each character. This can be fun the first few times, but it gets increasingly tedious as the game progresses.

Closing Remarks

Once again, we'd like to point out that we're exceedingly satisfied with the game. We love it and think it's worth every penny we've paid. Also, Larian deserves all their praise for building such a special and huge game, so far from what the market mistakenly thinks we deserve.

For many years, we hadn't experienced such eagerness to play; days go by thinking about the moment when we'll be turning on the PC, launching the game and getting back into the story. We had surrendered to the idea that, unfortunately, our love towards cRPGs didn’t align with that of most people and the market. We thought we would never play anything like Dragon Age: Origins, Pillars of Eternity, or Divinity Original Sin ever again.

These criticisms stem from our love for the genre and the game itself: we would love to spend more time with it and with its incredible characters.

So Larian, please, we beg you on our knees crying, grant us more content about the amazing characters you gifted us 🙇‍♀️🛐🥺😭

With love, MT, L and whoever agrees: fans of yours ❤

[g0dtier]

the list that makes me and @dentist-brainsurgeon mortal enemies from now on i guess

extremely lengthy explanations under the cut:

i actually think the S+A tier speak for themselves?

S tier: the goats. im aware its full of third versions but they just happen to be extremely good and added some insane shit to already solid base games (ok diamond and pearl werent solid but the foundation was there). replayability is insane for these.

A tier: the Oh Fuck Yeah games. not in any particular order actually. hgss is absolutely the best remake of all, only held back by the few inherent flaws of the Johto region and by not emulating Crystal enough. as much as i like bw, reverting back to only one region of pokemon never sat right by me, but it's been a while since ive played it, and nowadays i make much more of an effort to try out all new mons. so i could change my mind on this.

i liked usum more than sun/moon, if only for the post game. replayability isnt as high because of the cutscenes every 3 steps, and rotom dex is annoying as shit. aside from that, insanely solid story & postgame imo. red/blue and gold/silver are brimming with weird places in their regions and are chock full of in game lore and legends, which i really like. the ruins of alph & pokemon tower are some of the best locations theyve ever made imo

B tier is the "good but couldve been better" tier. lets go is insane for shiny hunting, but it stops at that imo. the new rival is garbo. sun and moon are good, but the postgame + alola in general is just lacking enough in these games that they dont reach A tier for me. loveeed the island challenges tho. alola itself has just such a good vibe. you really feel like its about community rather than competition. legends arceus couldve been insanely good, but i have never felt as ripped out of a pokemon game as i did when i walked through that cave in the coronet region and started seeing stray pixels around my character. which wasnt a one time thing btw this happens to anyones game & every time as far as ive seen. its gonna sound dramatic but this combined with other graphics glitches made it so clear i was playing a game that it just took me out of the adventure entirely. this is where the graphics glitches really started, and they havent stopped since.

C tier: yellow is just kinda there? i dont care for starter pikachu. i want to, but it gets killed when breathed at, so. idk. the gimmick doesnt work that well for me. sword and shield introduced some insane mons that i love and i want to call it solid real bad, but the story was hot garbage even for pokemon standards, and while the wild area was a great idea, the execution was lacking & because what i assume is a time crunch, the towns were boring as shit as well. diamond & pearl are mediocre to bad, with a great story and mediocre to bad execution, and i shouldve put oras in the :( tier, but the postgame is worth it.

actually im gonna rant about oras. i was so hyped for it but, just, ugh. if youre gonna turn a 2d vague not-specified-what-a-character-is-doing-or-feeling player character to 3d, at least do it correctly. 2d sprites where someone can fill in the blanks not seen on screen but hinted at in text (ie expressions, actions like handing someone something) work infinitely better than 3d sprites who show it badly. also still suffers from the desaturation curse that the 3ds games suffer from. postgame was dope, though. shame the mega latis are ugly as shit.

:( tier: garbage, im so sorry. SV's only redeeming factor is the area zero story. there is nothing else in the game that held my attention. fuck the star team, fuck the big pokemon quests, fuck the towns where you cant talk to anyone or find anything interesting or walk into a house and where every shop looks the game. fuck stores not even having an interior anymore. fuck this larger but emptier and stripped down world full of graphical glitches. fuck the weak ass gyms, fuck geeta, and fuck terrastalizing most of all. i will die for Koraidon & the professor fight fucking ruled but that's all the game had to it for me. do any of yall remember the gym leaders besides like, iono and the snowboard man? no you dont, stop lying to me. gen I put more life into lavender town by making a npc reference some ghost hand on your shoulder than SV does for any town, and they only had black and white 32mb cartridges or whatever to work with. for fucking shame gamefreak. give your devs some time to make a halfway functioning game.

firered and leafgreen do nothing new. i will not discuss the sevii islands. what the fuck even was that. boring. same with brilliant diamond and shining pearl. theyre lower than diamond and pearl because why the fuck did they not decide to remake platinum. what the hell was their damage. seriously platinum was RIGHT there. i caught a full odds shiny ghastly in that game and i still dont care about it.

X&Y suffers from. everything.

[bones-edition]

The aforementioned more cohesive* thoughts, or, Harlan Guthrie is an incredible writer:

Okay. So. A few things happened in this episode. I'm going to start with Daniel.

Daniel. There's just a whole nother tragic death in Arthur's life that was arguably his own fault. I mean, it wasn't his fault, but if course he's going to blame himself for it. It seemed like. They were actually getting somewhere. They had a bit of reconciliation going there. And then. Boom. Dead. Why do things like this keep happening to Arthur? And, well, he's still not out in the clear of this one yet, either.

On a semi related note, can we talk about how good of an antagonist the butcher is? Like. He's really just a guy. They've faced things that are, on paper, infinitely more dangerous than him. And yet, he's so scary. The way he seems like some sort of unstoppable force, even though they've managed to stop him before, even though he's just a human. It's the fact, I think, that he doesn't show any sign of distress. His voice never gives any hint of frustration, or even anger. He's so jovial, even while he takes away what hints of a new life Arthur has tried to build. It almost reminds me of someone else, but the butcher's casual, carefree additude is, I think, even more threatening than Kayne's hysterical joy, because even though he's not actually that much more powerful than Arthur, he presents himself like he is. He's just going about his daily business, and there's no conceivable way anyone could hinder him from it. And that, I think, is why he has such an impact.

Might talk more about how good the writing is in a bit, but first I need to address the proverbial elephant. I'm worried about John. It's obvious that Arthur knows something's wrong, and it's obvious that Arthur is worried, too. Towards the beginning of the season, I was worried about the argument it would cause when Arthur found out, but now I'm more concerned that John's stubborn refusal to let Arthur in on it will be both of their downfall. All we know about this deal John made with Kayne was that John would get Arthur to New York in return for being reunited with him, but we can see that there's something else up with John. And the two of them still have no idea that Yellow still exists, let alone that he's now in Larson. And where does Kayne factor into all this? What are his motives? There's no way for us to know, and it's driving me insane, because I just know it's important. That guy is just absolutely shrouded in mystery, and I know he's manipulating something behind the scenes that we're distracted from because we're focusing on the current happenings in New York. Also, tangentially related, but the song that John recognizes? What's up with that? I'm so goddamn invested in this story.

Also I continue to be incredibly impressed with the writing of every episode. The progression of this one was masterfully done. It incites our concern about John early on, and then quickly overshadows that with more concerns. John and Arthur emerge fairly successful from the conversation with Oscar, and things, are, overall, going well. And there's just a hint of time for that worry about John to surface before we're thrown into the interaction with Daniel. This has been something that has been building up for a long time, a climax of sorts. And tensions are high at the beginning, but the listener grows gradually more relieved throughout the course of the conversation. And then, just as Arthur mentions the butcher, the action picks back up again. The phone rings, we start to worry about the name situation, and things just start piling up. Oscar's on the phone, he sounds concerned. Oh no, Daniel left his address at the hotel, anyone could have found it, the butcher could have found it. Now there's someone at the door, the butcher knows the address, this is Not Good, and like that, Daniel's dead, Arthur's efforts were for nothing and there's not time for him to grieve because there's never time for Arthur to grieve, he has to run again, he has to run and hide and try to survive, again. And then the episode ends, leaving us stranded in that moment to try to process everything that just happened.

Anyway, I just really liked this episode. I really liked all the episodes. I really like the podcast. That's all. I feel slightly more insane than usual today, perhaps I spent too long outside and the smog is getting to my head.

*More cohesive as compared to the things I posted during the period of time I was listening to the episode. Not, you know, cohesive by some objective measure of the quality. That would be far from what I could hope to achieve on a Tumblr post about malevolent.

[granulesofsand]

We feel a bit of a draw to RAMCOA topics for unknown reasons, but as far as we know, there's been absolutely no RAMCOA in our past. Is it disrespectful for us to learn about RAMCOA topics anyway? Should we be careful?

Outside Looking In

Learning is not disrespectful in itself, but you& do have to mind the gap of learned vs lived experience. I’ll talk more about making your learning safe for yourself and others.

Your& Safety

Reading about RAMCOA is hard. You are required to practice cognitive empathy as you go, regardless of whether this comes easily to you. Starting out floods you with new information, some of which will contradict preexisting worldviews. There will be triggers, confusion, and exhaustion.

Some resources are inclusive towards onlookers, others are intended for survivors or their supports. Oftentimes, both extreme* and regular** abuse will be mentioned. Not every graphic description will be marked, and this can be more pronounced in cases of household abuse. Substance use and violence come up frequently.

(*extreme: Big Bads that are commonly acknowledged as horrific, sometimes even too bad to believe— think trafficking, torture, community involvement)

(**regular: traumas that may or may not be acknowledged, often shoved away as without evidence or as a cultural norm— SA, hitting, religious but not ritual abuse)

Books aimed towards survivors may boost up RAMCOA as so much worse than other abuse. This is usually because RAMCOA is known to be creative, cruel, calculated. Not every RAMCOA survivor has it worse than other survivors, but the assumption is that they do.

Others’ Safety

Resources are often created by either support teams or survivors, and there is a difference in tone and intensity. While professionals are often cold or disbelieving, survivors may not have processed everything before writing. (There are non-book resources, but they’re not as common outside of peer support groups.)

It’s important not to make judgments about survivor stories, even with strange themes. This is because our community is frequently shunned, and calling attention to us will only bring harm. It’s akin to calling the police for psychosis; they don’t know how to help, they don’t want to know, and they will assume the worst of us.

That said, you should be exercising critical thought when you engage with any media. Survivor accounts may feature worldwide cults and conspiracies, among others. Some rumors are spread by high control groups, others by survivors who are brought into other high control groups under the guise of healing.

Common problems with these rumors include racism, ableism, and colonization. Some have seeds of truth, others are wildly far fetched, and it’s not typically clear which is which. A good frame of reference is to remember that healing is different for everyone, and that causing harm is not acceptable without careful consideration.

Sometimes this looks like world domination plots with truth in group organization and control methods. It may be a claim that RA can only be stopped by turning to God, or by causing a genocide to eliminate an “offending” group (socioeconomic or racial/ethnic minority).

If you run into something you disbelieve, try talking to a support friend, a therapist, a survivor you feel comfortable with. Not all resources are safe, and going over it with someone who won’t assume one way or another can be helpful.

Lastly, don’t assume you know more than a survivor. Some folks really have no background besides childhood memories, but others have put in exorbitant amounts of research and effort. Both still have lived experience, and no one besides their chosen professional should be interpreting their own story.

Last Thoughts

It is okay to step away, including forever, if it becomes too much. Survivors here and on other platforms have accumulated information to share if you know where to look. You can have a place with the community so long as you don’t misadvertize. I hope I answered your question, please come back with anything else.

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 2 - Shooting lessons (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:    Yessss it’s Hux turn now to be embarrassed 😈 by the stars I hope I did him justice. And this is not even the real deal. How do people even write this stuff?

Oh wait, I just did… somewhere in the next chapters 😬🙋

(Don't get any wrong ideas, me publishing 2 chapters in 2 days is a unique thing 😂 Let me know if some parts are inconsistent - I reviewed this so many times and I am literally falling asleep on my desk. But publishing the previous chapter got me enthusiastic and now I'm doing things I might regret yolooooooooo)

This was different. 

Once, when he was still a Lieutenant and reluctantly assigned to drill newcomers by Brendol, he instructed cadets on their first shooting lessons. He took the job seriously, but the mandatory physical contact was something he had liked to avoid as much as possible. Having his father oversee his progress didn’t really help. The latter thought he could never do any good and ever since Sloane had bestowed the group of commandants' cadets from Arkanis on him, and made it clear the commandant had to convey his teaching techniques to him, tensions were… high.

Nonetheless, he made sure the new cadets were on the top rankings within the then already distributed First Order training curriculum, and tutoring these classes became a routine job.

This time, however, he felt that every little contact filled him with static electricity, although he was absolutely certain that was scientifically impossible. It made him lighter in his touch, doubtful, but also slightly longing to explore the strange responses their physical connection was making. He was slowly becoming aware that he was lingering just a bit too long on her hands, her arm, her shoulder, but he could not let go just yet. Seeing goosebumps form on her lower arm and the fact that he knew he was causing them, made him want to see which other effects he could have on her.

He gulped, all of a sudden conscious that the mysterious effect was starting to become bidirectional. His head felt light,  caused by little sparks popping up in his brain, and his face felt like it was burning. Contradictory, goosebumps formed underneath his clothes. He became aware of how the fabric was rubbing his skin and he couldn't stop thinking about how it would be if it were her warm hands instead.

Hux took a sharp breath and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, forcing his eyebrows into a harsh furrow as much as possible in an effort to hide any other evidence apparent on his features. 

“Remember this position. The stance of your arm will catch up the recoil. Now, try to aim and shoot,” he said sternly, hoping she didn’t hear the slight raspiness of his voice.

The blush on his cheeks refused to subside though, as did the thoughts of exploring her exposed skin some more. So he hastily decided to create some distance between them, before he would do something he might regret. 

Once he regained his wits somewhat, he slowly went to stand behind Miko, trying to march with a steady thread. He hoped she wouldn’t turn around to check on him, because he suspected she could easily notice the result of his state of mind now. 

Stars , this wasn’t the first time she made him lose his cool like this. He hated it, how she threw him off balance, made him feel out of control. 

Miko positioned the blaster as instructed and took a shot. The result wasn’t good, but definitely better than the previous feeble attempt. 

Looking at her stance, there was still some work to do. "Spread your legs a bit more" he added, very much aware that the instruction could be misinterpreted, given the light tremor intruding his spoken words. To his relief, she didn’t say anything about it. Now that he thought about it,  she hadn't looked his way nor spoken for a while now. He wasn’t going to complain about that, thank the stars , but it was curious in comparison to her usual manners. 

“Again, watch your left arm. Compensate.” he instructed, still aware that his voice didn't sound as determined as it usually did. The distance he created slowly made him able to focus again, though. At least enough, so he wouldn't blurt out ridiculous things. Or worse, do something he might regret. 

Again, again, again, he had to repeat for another 10 minutes, and she still wasn’t able to hit the target - and he still wasn’t able to let the unprofessional thoughts dissipate. The only thing he could do for now, was keep them at bay. 

He sighed, thinking about her lack of precision. When a recruit performed this badly, he usually sent them away for maintenance personnel training or something similar. Sanitising duty if he was extra annoyed.

But now, he had to persevere, if only for his own good. On top of that, his mind was still betraying him. It was as if it was sending him little doses of impure ideas, while having to watch her bring up her arms to aim the blaster, the pose exposing her curves more than usual. He repeatedly dictated her to correct her stance, resulting in her pivoting her feet with her usual energetic attitude. The accompanying harsh movements made her butt move in ways he couldn’t divert his gaze from, once he caught sight of it. Every little thing he noticed about her was making the shooting lessons even more of a challenge. But at least, the distance made it possible to subdue those thoughts enough to proceed with the exercise.

After another round of disheartening attempts, Miko hung down her shoulders and let out a frustrated moan, the raw noise bringing Armitage right back to his problematic thoughtlines, but this time much worse. He couldn’t stop the rather lewd visualisation that the sound forcibly pushed into his head. He could feel his blood boiling, his cheeks furiously glowing, fingers tingling as if they've been deprived of blood circulation all the while and oh by the galaxy his pants were becoming tighter…

Of all times, she turned around to face him now, as if she knew what he was going through after that groan of hers. In a haze of panic, Hux swiftly turned on his heels, towards the door, trying to hide the blush and other evidence in the less well lighted area of the loading bridge. 

‘Short break’, he almost whispered, before he left the small hangar space.

Armitage fled to his quarters, for the second time locking the door, leaning onto it. He was acutely aware of the déjà vu, and he knew back then the urge, the want, only increased after he had opened the door. Whenever she got close to him, it was as if his body had a mind on its own. Before, he was able to control himself, but what happened in the hangar was absolutely ludicrous. He needed to get her out of his system, so he could actually instruct her without thinking about trailing his hands over not only her hands and arms, but also her back, trace the muscles there that pull her shoulders back as a response to his fingers, map the bones of her clavicle, watch her throat gulp when he passes there with his thumb, then dipping down slowly, cupping and squeezing her breasts, seeing her shudder under his touch running downwards, working his fingers under the hem of her pants, pulling her closer by her belt and…

Fuck. It was no use.

He was again standing there, up against the door, like a stupid horny lowlife, with a rock hard boner he could hang his greatcoat on. He felt foolish and worthless, not being able to keep his subconscious needs where they should remain: subconscious. He’s a frigging officer of the First Order, he was able to withstand much more triggers than this, mentally taking note that he was taking over her horrible swearing habits as well. Seeing someone act so freely, without any emotional boundaries, was stirring up things deep inside him he couldn't bring to words yet. It was tearing down his carefully built up walls and he wasn’t sure what to think about it. 

But the dick was a serious issue. He still had to finish the training, to give their mission any chance of succeeding.

Frack.  

He snapped open the neck clasp of his uniform and pulled the clothing open with a speed which could damage the material, but right now he couldn’t care less. He clipped open his belt, making sure the thing didn’t clatter on the floor and alarm her. For all he knew, she was standing right behind the door he was leaning onto. Oh by the maker … he shouldn’t have thought about that, an almost painful throb shooting through his cock, which made him lower his pants with a bit more care than the uncharacteristically frenzy he performed on his vest. 

He took himself in his hand, shut his eyelids and debated whether or not he should do this. It’s been a while, he usually pulls so many all-nighters, making him pass out on his blue sofa or in best case in his bed with the datapad on his lap. 

But, by closing his eyes, his wretched imagination took over, taking him back to the hangar and the sounds she let out, suddenly turning into something much more explicit in his imaginary ears. Stars, he hated the fact that he couldn’t control his thoughts from flowing freely, but it was no use - he couldn’t stop the images from popping up. 

A fraction of a second later, he heard the same indecent noise but the scenery was replaced with the one in which she was only in one of his towels. When she was looking for something to wear, a few days ago, bowing down. His towels, his shirt, his… he wanted her to be his to claim… 

He suddenly was standing mere inches from her flushed face, their breath’s mangling when she righted herselves and slowly leaned into him. He started peeling off the plush piece of fabric in his fabricated dream while he automatically started pumping himself, not aware of his ridiculous stance and the cold durasteel on his back. He was so far gone he wouldn’t notice a star exploding. 

Hux didn’t think he still had a few brain cells left for producing imaginary scenarios like this, since he had tried to ignore them for so long. 

But by taking the plunge, they made him dive so deep into his subconsciousness he wasn’t even aware of what was up or down and by the gods of the galaxy he was yearning, yearning for a soft touch, to make her feel good and just feel something in return, feel worthy and content, for once in his life. To be in control of her pleasure, to make her whimper under his touch when he slowly traced her arms and shoulder, like he did in the hangar, her plump breasts, her buttcheeks, every detail of her skin. Just take in the effects he could have on her and feed on them. Greedily take the nape of her neck in his hands and pull her closer to taste her, pulling her legs up and press-

He shuddered, quickly imagining being buried deep down in her, the pressing of his hands on her hips and her neck leaving bruises, and pulling her impossibly closer on his spilling cock.

He opened his eyelids, the light of the room playing tricks on his retina because he squeezed his eyes close too hard. He only then realised his hands were sticky from his cum, coming down from a height he hadn’t been on for a very long time. 

Actually, if he thought about it, he couldn’t have imagined it was ever like this. This…intense… real. Soft? His usual sexual fantasies were definitely not this emotionally loaded and soft. And took a while longer to reach its climax. This was ridiculously improvised.

Now that he was more or less thinking clearly, it made him feel sick.

He was still trying to catch his breath, pondering on why she was doing this to him. How was he going to be able to withstand these urges he never had to keep under control before?

Hux heard some rambling in the wardroom, snapping him out the leftovers of his trance. How long was he standing here against the door? She might start asking questions if I don't get my act together now . He stumbled to the sink, washed up quickly, hastily put on his clothes - hissing when he raked the bacta patch while pulling his pants up - and combed his hair. Then, he double checked his appearance in the mirror, wanting to make sure there was no evidence left of his previous state of distress. 

He took a deep breath, put his head up high and took long strikes to the door. This time, he wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

He just entered the wardroom and noticed Miko walking towards the cockpit, datapad and some rubbish in both hands. 

What is she up to? Again?  

Armitage followed her wake, both annoyed by her sudden and unauthorised action and curious what got into her head this time. When he arrived, that droid and she were doing something at the comm unit and didn't look at him entering. 

"All set and done. You should be able to connect to my commlink now!” She exclaimed with a smile, signalling him that she did notice his arrival.

"The new identification code they provided us with is also installed. Your ship should be listed as a cargo vessel right now." She happily mentioned, after she placed her hands on her hips.

Hux sighed, glad a practical conversation might make him forget about what he just wanted to do to her, and replied: "Let's hope no one wants to actually check it out, because one glance from an enthusiastic republican will get us into trouble." Miko quickly turned her head towards him. “We should’ve painted the ship in a happy colour, you’re right. Like, bright orange.” she whispered in a secretive way. 

He cocked his eyebrow, not sure what to do with her comment. 

”Kidding Hux, I don’t have a death wish. Although I don’t know if death at your hands would be worse than whatever we’re facing next.” she said smilingly, turning back to the controls. 

Hux gulped and decided not to react to that comment. He was content to hear she didn’t underestimate him, but he did just think about fucking her with his hands on her neck and now… he decided the weapons controls needed to be checked. 

Any distraction would do.

After a short pause, she righted her back and said to him: “I'm done here. Up for round 2?” 

He harshly turned his attention to her, slightly confused and already sweating under his collar, the sentence having a completely different meaning in his ears. Before he could actually register what she was really talking about, she exclaimed “I’ll be in the hangar” and turned around with a slightly bubbly attitude. 

He sighed again and followed her wake, keeping enough distance. He wasn’t going to get tricked by his hormones twice.

The training session went on for another 30 standard minutes. Hux kept his distance and was able to find back his instructor mode, and even keep any unwanted distractions to a minimum. They kept going, until she was able to automatically pull, aim and shoot. Actually hitting a target was beneath any standards, but for the approaching rendezvous, just having the movement in her physical memory would have to suffice. 

The proximity alarm went off, signalling their arrival. The duo stopped their activities. Miko holstered the blaster, put PC on her back, and followed in Hux’ shadow towards the cockpit.

A/N: Shields breaking, walls cracking… next time, maybe teeth colliding? Who knows…

[bbyboybucket]

Thunderbolts existed in the comics way before Gunn's Suicide Squad, so what are you even talking about? Besides, you're wrong about that film doing well, that film did poorly in the box office.

No shit it existed. Do you think I believe that thunderbolts was just suddenly fabricated in 2021? I’m saying they’re bringing it to live action because of the fact that there’s been 2 successful suicide squad movies. Because even in the comics, the basics of both are the same, the government recruiting a team of former villains. And James Gunn’s TSS may not have been a box office hit, but it’s still regarded as one of DC’s best movies since TDK and has the highest ratings, equal to The Batman. Ratings that high and being one of the most popular movies amongst CBM fans is doing well, sorry.

Still, SS (2016) did amazing at the box office despite being a shit movie. And Marvel clearly knows that James Gunn is a talented writer and director and makes quality movies, considering he’s made 3 of their own biggest hits.

If you had reading comprehension skills, you’d pick up on what I’m saying here. If Marvel was putting actual effort into that movie and started to adapt a good, solid version of Thunderbolts, I absolutely would not be saying this. I’m saying it’s a cash grab because it seems like they’re throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. When I realized they were setting up for thunderbolts, before any official announcements were made, I was extremely excited for it. But once I realized what they’re actually planning for the movie, it became clear to me that a part of what’s going on is they seen an opportunity to do what their competitor has twice. They want to have their own version of SS (2016) and TSS (2021), considering both have had huge success for DC. That’s a simple business strategy that every damn business does in some way, shape, or fashion.

The point is: because marvel has seen DC lay the ground in live-action, they know that people enjoy watching a team of villains. Marvel is relying on that fact and that they have huge name actors (Flo Pugh, David Harbor, etc.). So they don’t seem to be worried about actually creating a good story because they know a team of villains is enough to get people to watch, even if everyone hates it afterwards just like they have with Quantumania, TLAT, Secret Invasion.

Use your brain next time before trying to come in my inbox and tell me I’m “wrong”.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 8 Ep. 181: The Best Last Day

The morning after his son became a teen, Jack woke up determined to find the absolute most joy he could in his final day of life.

He started by giving his spouse one last snuggly good time wakeup under the sheets. Peachy appreciated his efforts as always and seemed to be making an effort of his own to keep focused on enjoying their final day together, with a sly dad joke between dads, and a sneak tickle attack.

As hard as it was to leave his family now, Jack had treasured every moment of his traditionally constrained lifespan with them. He went to check on the rest of the household feeling pride in the way he had used his one life to live to the best of his ability, confident his forebearers would be proud of him.

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

Downstairs they found Luigi preparing for his first day of high school. Jack helped him with his homework while Peachy made breakfast.

They had offered to let him stay home, but he had decided being in class would be better than sitting around worrying about the inevitable. They didn’t discuss it again over the meal, Jack instead helping ease Luigi’s concerns about attending public school with “a bunch of strangers”.

He told Luigi that the other teens wouldn’t be so different from his cousins, and Jack trusted a smart sim like him would be able to figure out the best way to handle tough situations. He saw his boy off with one final hug goodbye and a silent hope to check in one more time if he could.

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

Back inside Valentina caught Jack by himself to say her own farewells and restated her promise to take good care of Jack’s boys.

He thanked her as he said goodbye, happy to know that someone would be there looking out for his family once he was no longer able to do so.

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Then it was time for the hardest goodbye of all. They were doing their best to minimize the pain by parting now, before the very end, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Peachy and Jack said their goodbyes on the porch, starting with a deep and long-lasting kiss. When they finally broke apart Peachy smiled, delivering a slightly less corny than usual affectionate joke. As always Jack responded in kind before heading off to spend his last hours in nature with Chance.

Peachy watched Jack until he teleported out of sight before turning to head back inside. The front doors hadn’t even had time to close before he broke down in uncontrollable sobs, finally allowing himself to feel all the things he’d kept tightly locked inside over the last few days for Jack’s sake.

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

Jack met Chance at their rental cabin. Chance had been worried by the gray and rainy day, but it seemed the watcher smiled on Jack, delivering fine clear weather for his final outing in nature. The two former housemates quickly got dressed in comfortable clothes for their day of outdoor fun.

Neither man was sure exactly when the end would come but for as long as they were together Chance let Jack lead.

They spent the day swapping stories, laughing about old times, playing horseshoes, and of course, fishing up something tasty for dinner.

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

That afternoon Jack did end up having his chance to call home and hear all about Luigi’s first day. Jack encouraged him to try making some friends, suggesting that maybe he could start by looking for a group or club of like-minded sims who enjoyed computing as much as he did.

As afternoon turned to evening the men settled around the campfire for dinner and Jack’s face fell. He knew the end was coming soon and as strongly as he felt about his choice, he still didn’t feel ready. Chance offered a kind smile, encouraging him to say as much or as little as he needed to. He remembered being in the same position as Jack all those centuries ago, before he’d accepted the immortality Candor’s potion offered.

Jack’s heart ached, but he knew there was nothing he could say that would change anything. Instead, he simply finished his meal and invited his friend to join him at the game table on the upstairs balcony, the pair completing a scenic island landscape puzzle for Chance to take back as a gift for Luigi.

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

When the Reaper still hadn’t arrived by bedtime Jack asked if Chance would mind terribly joining him in camping out under the stars.

Chance agreed without hesitation, and Jack pulled out the two sleeping bags he’d brought along, just in case. They found a nice grassy spot to set them down, and after giving his friend a big hug and a heartfelt thank you for a wonderful last day they settled side by side and drifted off to sleep.

A short time later Jack was jolted awake. Compelled to rise, he found himself gently laying right back down as he quietly breathed his last. Chance didn’t stir as the Reaper came to collect Jack’s soul, whisking him away to his final resting place, where an old friend waited to welcome him to his new home.

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Want To See More? View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[a-tale-never-told]

Out of curiousity, does Nagito have any other hobbies that you know of besides simping over Ultimates and this school?

Well, I haven't spent much time with Nagito personally to know what he does as a hobby, but I do see him walking around the School library in the afternoons, carrying a few books to his dorm room.

One of the books that was interesting in particular to me was All Quiet On The Western Front, a war novel published in the 30s by Erich Maria Remarque, and one of the books that my mother owns at home.

Basically, the plot is about a soldier by the name of Paul Bamer, who enlisted in the German Army during WW1, alongside their classmates. At first, these men are actually enthusiastic and very excited to fight for their country in the war. After all, who wouldn't be overcome with patriotism during such an eventful time like the early 1910s?

But as the story progresses, it becomes obvious clear that they have zero idea of what they are getting themselves into, as the horrors of the Western Front and the trivialities and nightmare fuel of trench warfare start to shatter their morale into pieces rather quickly, and almost all of them die by the time the conflict ended in 1918. It's a honestly tragic novel that really hits you personally when you read it yourself.

I know none of you are history experts, but let's just analyze this for a second: These men were young and incredibly proud of themselves for being part of the military, yet they barely knew what exactly they signed in for, just like mostly every solider on both sides during the war. Nobody could've predicted just how destructive and catastrophic the conflict was going to end up becoming.

When I say "trench warfare" I don't mean it as a statement or as a hyperbole. No, I mean it quite literally, they were fighting in trenches throughout the duration of the conflict, on all sides. It wasn't just the Germans that adopted this strategy of warfare, the British, the French, the Americans, and others adopted this tactic universally throughout the war.

Here's how life typically went for soldiers in the trenches: On the quiet front, soldiers typically would routinely clean their weapons and be tasked with maintaining the trenches by day, and the nighttime routine consisted of fixing barbed wire across the trench. On an active front, however, things were completely different from the quiet front in multiple ways.

In an active front, commanders would insist that the soldiers constantly harass their opponents on the front lines, and as a result sniper fire, mortars, and ESPECIALLY heavy artillery claimed thousands to millions of lives on both sides. If you went on a massive offensive, chances are that you won't get to survive to tell your grandchildren about what you experienced.

Conditions were absolutely atrocious, as lice and rat infestations became near-universal in the trenches. Body parts and corpses wouldn't be retrieved from the walls simply because it was often too dangerous to actually put the effort to do it, due to the constant gunfire and artillery barrage. Restroom facilities look like they were created during the Stone Age, and do I even need to bring up the extreme weather?

I think you understand the vivid picture by now. Trench warfare can honestly be compared to Hell, and I genuinely mean that. Modern warfare is already brutal and horrifying enough, but trench warfare takes it to tremendously high levels of disturbing, especially for those who suffer from claustrophobia. In short, it was definitely far from a good time and I think Erich portrayed that depiction of trench warfare fantastically in the novel.

Wow... you must've been really knowledgeable about that type of subject, aren't you? To dissect a literal war novel that's been published in the 30s.

I mean... my mom is a war photographer, and as her daughter, I have a reason to be well-informed about events like this. Especially since this hits very personally to me, considering my mom's profession. It's a really well-written novel, and I highly recommend it.

[a-luran]

Alasdair and Arthur making a desire path from their home down to inside a forest where there's a small clearing and there's flowers growing from every inch?

It took me a moment to catch on to what you meant with desire path but one I caught on YES!

I think long and hard about gardening and home-keeping headcanons for ships because i think they can be some of the best ways to explore a relationship. A desire path though, that's genius! something built out of unconscious habit is so truly honest.

If I may run with your headcanon for a bit, I would like to imagine that one of the first times Arthur ever takes that path into the forest it is out of anger. Maybe he has been trying to make an effort but the first few months living under one roof after a couple of centuries avoiding being in the same room for more than an hour at a time are rough. They have grown into themselves but are still, at their core, the exact same as they have always been; that immutable truth of character and personality. And they Piss. Each. Other. OFF.

So Arthur trudges off into the forest in a temper, leaving Alasdair behind also in a temper, and every other member of the household keeps clear. Eventually Arthur comes back and they neither apologise nor speak a word of it to each other. The next time a fight like that happens, it's the same. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Then one day it rains.

And they are no strangers to rain, none of them are. Sure, the centuries have seen them grow a bit softer, a little more fond of hearth and home, but they're not so far removed from their history. If Arthur wants to stew out in the rain let him, Alasdair might figure. See if that washes some of the shit off him. But the hours tick by and Arthur does not return and despite himself Alasdair starts to feel uncomfortable. He would not admit that it is concern and would probably mask it with annoyance at the absolute childish pettiness of staying out in the rain when there is a perfectly good house to get lost in, standing two stories high and with plenty of doors to lock. He'd go out to fetch him with put on reluctance, and that is the first time he walks down the exact same path as Arthur does, chasing his lead into the forest.

This becomes a familiar scene. it plays out over and over tinged with different arguments and justifications. Eventually some of those fall to the wayside and the routine is just a walk after tea. Sometimes it is one of them knowing the other has to cool off from a fight with Wales or Ireland instead of between them; sometimes it's phone calls which harken ill-news. Arthur might notice the patterns in which the wildflowers grow and encourage that, green-thumbed and easy in this clearing they have carved by their presence alone. Maybe something in nature recognises what they are, who they are, and it conjures something into the air. No one else ever seems to come across the clearing so it becomes only theirs, undisturbed.