#troika. troika. lovely word

[radiohart]

wordweb is getting a little silly with this one i think

[parasitoid-apologist]

im being sooooo patient waiting for the troika! stretch goal pdfs to drop <----checking the kickstarter page every 10 minutes

[tygergm]

One Shot Recs

I've either run or played these all as one shots, and are ones I recommended to a friend recently. I also have links at the bottom to a bunch of free quickstarts for more games to look at that might be good for one shots too.

Blue Rose - AGE system from Green Ronin. Romantic fantasy where royalty is chosen by a magical stag and the rich are appropriately taxed. Cool Stunts mechanic to do extra abilities during a turn, easy system to get used to but has that crunchy feel too. Sentient animal race that forms bonds with people is an instant love every time. Free quickstart.

Heart: the City Beneath - Resistance system by Rowan Rook & Decard. A dungeon crawler where the dungeon is an NPC. Take stress until you can't, go out in a blaze of glory with one time Zenith abilities, such as summon a train to wipe out everything in its path - including you. Heart's the love of my life and the first RPG to make me cry(in a good way). It's earnest and grotesque and something about going in knowing you will End, and choosing it, does something to me. Also you can be full of bees(on purpose). Quickstart is PWYW($3ish suggested) but you should give them 1 million dollars actually.

Bones Deep - Troika! system based by @technicalgrimoire. The other love of my life. Be a skeleton on the ocean floor! What happened to your skin? Not important! Do jobs for witches, get credits from the crabs, join the cephalopods in their nefarious plans. The classes are fun(shapeshift your bones, or carve spells into them), and the mix of horror and humor is immaculately weird. Many random tables and a couple scenarios to make it easy to start swimming walking. Also not free($15 for digital), but worth every cent and then some(and the website is awesome resource!).

Index Card RPG - d20 system from Runehammer Games. It's 'simple enough to fit on index card'. There's actually lots of stuff, but it's easy to get a game rolling fast! Be a gerblin, get a bunch of loot. If you're a chronic low roller like me, a nice mechanic is when you fail you get to put points in a pool to use for later rolls. Probably the easiest one on this list to jump to from DnD. Free quickstart.

Wildsea - Wild Words system from Mythworks(took me awhile to find the name for it lol which isn't important just play it xD). You can be a mushroom person piloting a giant whale bone ship with a chainsaw on the front above a sea of trees. The world is so cool and unique. Health is measured in stuff to lose/break and there's a sliding success mechanic(you succeed, you succeed BUT- etc.). Free quickstart.

Tales from the Loop - Year Zero engine by Free League. Be kids in an alternate 80s-90s Scandinavia(or US) setting trying to navigate growing up alongside strange tech and apathetic adults. I really like how they tweaked the system to make it fun being kids for this, with iconic items and luck points, and it's very collab focused. I used this scenario as a one shot. There's a starter's set for $4.99.

Old Gods of Appalachia - Cypher system by Monte Cook. Face horrors man-made and monstrous in the haints and hollers of an alternate 1930ish Appalachia. Based on the podcast(don't know anything about the podcast? Even better imo). Cyphers are neat one-time use items you find during game to make you stronger/invisible/etc. Free quickstart.

Under Hill, By Water - OSR hack by Rise Up Comus. Hobbits! Okay, "halflings" for copyright but...it's hobbits. While some are off saving the world, your greatest worry is finding the lost pig before your wife realizes it's missing. It's not a boring life, just a quiet one. Random table generators for Events to happen each season make this easy to pick up, or come up with your own! $10. We loved this one so much we turned it into a mini campaign.

Mörk Borg - OSR-ish by Free League. Last but not least in the amount of shelf space in my room! The basic rules fit on one piece of paper, but the books are packed with amazing art and delicious disgustingness. It's easy, quick and deadly, with so many random tables for generating baddies, loot, etc., and usually each version of it has a doomsday countdown calendar with horrid new things to add, and then a final horrible event to end the game. It IS very dark and gloom, and I don't normally play it as rough as the OG, which works out fine! You can get a free version of the core book on the website linked, and tons of other free goodies there. My current fav hacks are Pirate Borg and Ork Borg.

List of free Quickstarts I found(and some I'll be playing soon!):

Coriolis

Dune

Fabula Ultima

City of Mist

Rapscallion

Fifth Season

Symbaroum

Dragonbane

SCP

Root

Fantasy AGE

Modern AGE

Myth-Stakes

Dead Air: Seasons

Broken Tales

Legacy: Life Among the Ruins

Heckin' Good Doggos

Star Trek Adventures

Flabbergasted!

Familiars of Terra

Daggerheart

Coyote & Crow

7th Sea

Candela Obscura

Fallout RPG

Happy Gaming!

[tiodolma]

wow, lancelot, way to twist the narrative to your advantage even when you and guinevere were the ones technically in the wrong, lord mercy jesu.

he knew he had the loyalty of the best knights, he knew he had that power, he knew that once word gets out, he'd be persecuted by the king...

and now both he and guinevere use that power.

i've been saying this from the start... arthur's kingdom is a mess. not a lot of knights are actually truly loyal to him. only his relatives are. and he allowed this kind of unofficial troika system coz he loved queen guinevere and lancelot too much.

this was bound to happen.

holy sht.

[dolokhovisfierce]

Malloysical Secret Santa 2022

This is my gift for @dreadful-windandrain :))

I truly wish that you have an amazing end of year and happy Holidays!

Read More

I wrote an one-shot covering Helene’s, Anatole’s and Dolokhov’s lives after the failed abduction, spicing some Holiday’s feelings on top of it. English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes in it. Besides that, I really hope that you enjoy it!

Before it starts. I’d like to say that I tried to avoid anachronisms. Even so, there might be plenty of them still left. To try to avoid them, I used this sources:

1 - I used this source to base the Christmas scene: https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/334538-christmas-tsarist-russia/amp

2 - About Ded Moroz’s and Snegurochka’s tradition: https://www.mdig.com.br/index.php?itemid=48170

Last thing, here’s a little synopsis:

After the failure of Natasha Rostova's abduction, it's up to Dolokhov, Helene and Anatole to learn how to move on with their lives.

Title: What I Want

"Betrayed! Betrayed!" Dolokhov shouted trough the freezing air of the night "Anatole! Come back!"

Dolokhov, who had stayed by the gate of Marya Dmitryevna's house, was now fighting with the Janitor responsible for the Night Shift. Dressed in an old yet clean uniform, the Janitor desperately attempted to lock the gate in order to not allow Anatole Kuragin to escape out. With a last effort, Dolokhov pushed the man away, dragging Anatole by his arm as they ran trough the Courtyard, moving towards to where the Troika was.

Now, this was not how it was supposed to be. Natasha Rostova was supposed to be with him in the troika. Natasha Rostova was supposed to be at her back porch at ten. Anatole was supposed to wrap the fur cloak around her. If someone had told Anatole that the night would end up with Marya Dmitryevna shouting 'You will not enter my house, scoundrel!' at him, and not a single sight of Natasha Rostova, he would have refused to believe such thing. Actually, someone, or rather Dolokhov, had in fact warned him about the countless ways that the plan could have gone wrong. Anatole had refused to listen to him earlier on, and he is still refusing to face the reality of the outcome of their plan. Dolokhov, however, wasn't surprised at all, not after all effort he put into trying to make Anatole see his own stupidity. Breathing heavily, more from anger than from the physical effort of fighting the Janitor, Fyodor Dolokhov was throwing a constant flaming gaze at Anatole, only the darkened blue of his eyes being enough to warn: 'I had warned you, didn't I?'. Anatole, not caring about Dolokhov's own reactions at the moment, had his head buried down in his hands, eyes wide open as the troika moved down on the street. Before Dolokhov could voice the shout that was burning by his throat, Anatole finally wailed:

"Natasha! It's essential that I see Natasha!"

Clenching his jaw and staring at Anatole with a gaze that either implied an air of superiority and disdain, or concern and frustration, Dolokhov responded firmly:

"You have done enough! The situation is already catastrophic as it is, Don't worsen it"

Anatole, with a childlike need to take out his frustration on someone, began to accuse Dolokhov, as if it weren't his own fault for ignoring the flaws of his idea:

"I need to see her! You wouldn't understand!" He meant that Dolokhov could not understand the 'love' Anatole had for Natasha Rostova "You wanted this plan to fail all along, didn't you?!"

"The stupidity of your idea is not my fault!"

Dolokhov responded, trying, for the last time in that night, to see things from Anatole's perspective, reasonating within himself that Anatole knew, deep down, that he was wrong, and that he was only taking out the frustration of the moment on Dolokhov.

"But the plan was yours!" Another wailed and then he had the terrible idea to use Dolokhov's own words against him, stating with irony: "Who found the priest, Raised the money, Got the passports, Got the horses?'"

That was all it took for Dolokhov to mentally send Anatole and his idea of eloping to hell, starting to snap at him in husked words:

"You'd already be in jail, if not dead, if it weren't for me! And the next time you decide to ruin your life for kicks, l'll fucking let you be, how is that, eh?!"

Anatole, now gesturing his fingers at Fyodor, was ready to voice another complaint that would have Dolokhov urging to throw something at him. But before he could voice those words, Dolokhov quickly raised his hand at him, silently commanding 'Quiet’.

The rest of the way was consumed by an uncomfortable, sharp silence, ready to explode into more screams at any given moment.

They should be heading to the Poland highroad by now. Instead, with the failure of the abduction, They were now arriving at Dolokhov's house. In spite of a few more trials from Dolokhov's part, trying yet to get Anatole to eat something, the rest of the night was consumed by that same uncomfortable silence. Anatole, the most common guest of Fyodor's house, went early to the Guest room in which he usually slept when he was at Dolokhov's home. The house servants soon noticed the tension between the two men, for Anatole's early departure went against what usually happened when Anatole visited Dolokhov: They used to drink until they had used up all of the host's best bottles and then they would gamble and play until they couldn't stand still anymore.

Neither Dolokhov, neither Anatole slept during that night. Both of them pacing to and fro in their own rooms. Anatole, in his mind, was still planning a way to meet with Natasha Rostova again. Even more than that, he knew that only if he asked Dolokhov once more, he would help him to find a way to meet with Natasha. And Dolokhov, well, unfortunately or fortunately, knew that Anatole was still thinking about meeting Natasha, and worse, he knew that he would end up helping with his friend's nonsense once more. Given that, Dolokhov was already thinking about how to approach Natasha Rostova. After putting some effort into that thought, he came to the conclusion that the best option was to get to her through Helene Bezukhova. With that, it was essential that they went to Helene's house first thing in the morning.

In the morning, the remnants of that silence were still between Dolokhov and Anatole. However, there was something different now, both of them silently understood that, in spite of their own irritation with one another, nothing had changed in essence: They were going to try to get to Natasha Rostova, Dolokhov would help Anatole, and even if it failed, they would make it work, one way or the other.

"As soon as Pierre arrives, he'll help us. He is close to Natasha's family, after all"

Helene Bezukhova concluded to Anatole and Dolokhov as they discussed by one of her house's drawing rooms. Now, Helene knew that Pierre had left early in the morning, however, she did not know what he was up to. And thus, she couldn't know that Pierre was, in fact, talking with Marya Dmitryevna, and that the last thing he'd will to do as soon as he got home was helping Anatole.

Anatole, finding some comfort in his sister's words, returned to his wails, which sent Dolokhov over the edge to throw something at Anatole once more:

"Oh, Helene! I need to see Natasha! It's essential! Pierre must help us!"

Dolokhov was getting even more annoyed as Anatole talked about Pierre, as if Pierre Bezukhov had not shot him just some months ago. Anatole Kuragin might have actually forgotten about the duel as he started to see Pierre as a light by the end of a tunnel. Helene Kuragina, however, being more blessed than her brother in terms of intelligence, didn't forget about it all. Instead, she decided that it would be better if Dolokhov went home and left Anatole and Helene alone to talk with Pierre. With some effort, Dolokhov accepted to go home before he actually threw something at Anatole, maybe one of Helene's books, maybe a chair…

Dolokhov wasn't even aware of why he was still that infuriated with Anatole. Maybe it was only because of the stupidity of his idea to elope with Natasha Rostova, as Dolokhov claimed. Or perhaps, it was because this stupidity was putting Anatole's life on the edge of ruin, and maybe because, in spite of himself, Dolokhov cared, truly cared about Anatole. And even so, he couldn't stop him from ruining his own life for someone he had just met three days ago. If it happened to be anyone else, he could have stopped them, all Moscow's most brilliant young men were terrified of Fyodor Ivanovich Dolokhov. Except, of course, for Anatole Kuragin. No, Dolokhov could not stop the Kuragin, and it infuriated him, this lack of control, this feeling of incapacity, it was a rare and hurtful feeling for Dolokhov. And because of that feeling, that urge to throw something at Anatole insisted on ringing by his head. Even when he wasn't at Helene's house anymore, even when he was already at his own study, watching the clock slowly move as he pretended to pay attention to the book above his desk, just wasting time until he could rush to Helene's house to hear about the outcome of the talk with Pierre.

"May I present the Prince Anatole Kuragin"

One of the servants hesitantly communicated to Fyodor Dolokhov. Dolokhov frowned his brows, the irritation slowly being left behind as an interrogation formed at his mind: 'What is Anatole doing here? Have they already talked to Pierre?'

To worsen Dolokhov's both irritation and doubt, the first thing he noticed as Anatole entered his field of vision was the big, travel bag he was carrying along with him.

"What is up with that bag?"

Dolokhov asked, approaching Anatole as they stood in the middle of the drawing room.

"Oh-This is utterly terrible, Fedya!" 'Fedya', for the first time since the Abduction, Anatole had called Fyodor as 'Fedya'. Anatole spoke rapidly, gesturing around. Dolokhov got the clue that Anatole finally took note of the gravity of his own situation.

Anatole continued: "Pierre confronted me about the affair! I must leave!"

Dolokhov, in spite of already knowing what probably had happened, questioned Anatole, as if he hoped that he, somehow, had heard him wrong:

"What the hell do you mean? Leaving to where?"

"To Saint Petersburg! Oh- this is terrible! If not Andrei Bolkonsky, the first Rostov who meets me will challenge me to a duel! And her family... they'll want to put me into justice! But... Pierre talked with her godmother, if I leave... it's all they ask!"

Dolokhov clenched his jaw. Not a word about Natasha Rostova! Now, when Anatole found himself on the edge of risk, he suddenly stoped talking about Natasha Rostova! Now it was all about getting himself off the line... After it all had happened because he claimed, over and over, to ‘love’ Natasha Rostova. What Anatole had for Natasha.. Dolokhov could not call that love, whatever it was, it wasn't Love.

"Now that finally see your situation you suddenly forget about Natasha Rostova, eh?"

"Oh-Fedya... but what am I to do?"

Not have gone after her during the Opera, not have gone to the ball with her. Not have kissed her, not have tried to elope with her... not have dragged me into this. Dolokhov smiled, something between sorrow and disdain.

"Nothing. You ought to do nothing"

Dolokhov rose his eyes to Anatole's face, suddenly locking their gazes, something silently settling between them: They were wrong, the situation had changed. They would not make it work. Anatole was leaving for Saint Petersburg. Fedya couldn't do anything to stop it anymore. They would not make it work, Fedya would not see Anatole for God only knows how long... the urge to throw something at Anatole suddenly grew again in Dolokhov's chest. Something… maybe one of his books, maybe a chair, maybe himself.

“Pierre lent me the Money. I'll leave in the next train to Saint Petersburg. I only needed to say one last goodbye to you"

Anatole made a mention to shorten the distance between them. Noticing that, Fyodor took a step back, becoming the one to take out his frustrations on Anatole this time:

"Of course! Now you leave, after all is done, after all the damage you have done!" Dolokhov tried to sound as if he was talking about the damage he had done to Countess Rostova, but truly, he was thinking about the damage Anatole was doing to him as he was leaving to Petersburg "You were too stubborn and too stupid to even think about the possible consequences! You don't even give a damn that I-" Dolokhov suddenly stoped, he opened his mouth to continue, but he didn't, steeping back from Anatole. "Goodbye, Kuragin"

Anatole approached Fedya again, pulling an arm above his shoulder as he tried to once more justify his actions. Dolokhov didn't pull him away, he didn't tell him to stay quiet, he didn't throw something at him. No, he stood there, more dead than alive, listening to Anatole's wails. Dolokhov didn't respond, not properly, only repeating planned answers as "I understand" "Goodbye, Anatole". Anatole wasn't quite satisfied with those answers, that nothing sounded like Dolokhov. However, he couldn't insist anymore, or else he wouldn't be able to catch up with his train. In one of those planned answers, Anatole answered "Goodbye, Fedya, wish me luck!". Against Dolokhov's will, the last thing the Kuragin did was pulling him into an embrace, only to leave Dolokhov behind as he crossed the entry door, going back to the streets of Moscow. It was the last time Dolokhov had seen Anatole before he left for Petersburg.

The day after that, Fyodor and Helene had received the word that Countess Natalie Rostova had poisoned herself. Now, Three months had passed since it, neither Dolokhov nor Helene could face one another, not because of any disagreement, but because it reminded them of their own fault in Natasha's fate. It was shameful to be reminded of it, so they have rarely meet since The Abduction. A few Soirees here and there, some letters, a few news about Anatole, but nothing as it used to be. However, the end of the year of 1812 was close, and it was a custom for Helene, Anatole and Dolokhov to spend it together at Helene's house, along with Pierre. The impossibility of it happening this year was silently rooting at the heart of each one of them, even Pierre, who had noticed the sudden change in Helene's behavior.

Helene was not only suffering from the fault she carried because of the Abduction. More than ever, it was clear to her that Pierre despised her and her brother. In that day, as Pierre confronted Anatole, Helene was hearing his shouts trough the closed door, hearing what she concluded to be Anatole's body being pushed against the desk. It all still lingered at her head, persistently, especially Pierre's words about her.

"Be quiet! I will not greet you. At this moment, you are more repulsive to me then ever"

"Amuse yourself with women like my wife, well, with them you're within your rights!”

Now, the furthest thing Helene either wanted or expected was Pierre to love her. Neither of them wanted this marriage in the first place. But now, to be forced to live with that man that openly despised her… it was humiliating. And Anatole's absence was only adding to the loleny feeling. For the first time in months, she didn't have Anatole’s constant presence at her house, gossiping with her and gambling along Dolokhov. In a matter of one night, her house had became utterly quiet without her friend and brother. Anatole was still in Petersburg, he didn't know when he would return to Moscow.

Helene was gathering strength to lift from the drawing room’s chair and go change her dress in order to host the Soirée that was planned for the night. That was when Pierre entered the same drawing room, his eyes full of pity staring at Helene. Looking at his eyes, it only made her rush even more to get out of there, the last thing she needed was his pity. But Pierre spoke before she could leave him behind in that room:

"It's almost Christmas. Have you heard from... your brother? You could certainly call him to spend the holidays in our house"

"After you pushed him against the desk of your study? I don't think that'll be possible"

Helene stated, gazing sideways at Pierre.

"What Anatole Kuragin did to Natasha Rostova was absolutely wrong and-" Pierre could not finish, for Helene raised her voice:

"You truly think I don't know that? I do! Day and night I think of the misery we caused her! But even so, Anatole is my family, whatever he did, he is still my brother!"

Pierre mentioned to open his mouth to interrupt Helene, but she continued, finally voicing what had been lingering at her mind for those three months:

"You think you are that much better than me and my brother? He might have hurt your protégé" She was talking about Natasha Rostova "And that is why you confronted him. But you, you shot my friend because of a rumor, and when I tried to confront you about it, you threw a desk at me!" Helene paused, absorbing her own words to herself "So don't come at me with your pity, I do not need it!"

And then Helene left, finally leaving an anguished Pierre behind. Pierre, more than anything, regretted his duel with Dolokhov, regretted how he acted with Helene after it. However, his regret didn't change the fact that he had, in fact, done all the things Helene just stated.

The soiree would have been like all of Helene's last soirees: dull and boring. Some new gossip occasionally popping up here and there, but nothing that really helped to lift Helene's spirit. Today, however, wasn't the case, for the first time in months, a certain military Captain appeared by one of Helene's soirées, it was Fyodor Dolokhov.

Helene first noticed him as she crossed the drawing room to greet some of her guests, and there was Dolokhov standing in the middle of all those people. For a moment, they locked eyes, silently reminding one another of their fault in Natasha's misery, and also wailing about Anatole's absence. Dolokhov approached Helene:

"Countess Bezukhova" Normally, he would have just called her as 'Helene', but since Society already did not see their interactions with good eyes, it was safer to use her title name. Dolokhov stopped for a moment, as if he was deciding to say something or not. He opened his mouth, but stoped before any words had left his lips, deciding to rather use a banal structured phrase: "How have you been doing?"

The small circle around them had slowly vanished away, allowing Helene to freely speak, irony dripping by her tone:

"I've done better. It's been hell since the Abduction!"

Their eyes locked once more, and, even with the shame, they silently agreed that denying each other's company was impossible to do for any longer. Given that, Dolokhov voiced what he had first thought as he spoke to Helene, and, honestly, what was the only reason he had appeared by Helene's soirée.

"It has been hell" He agreed "But you could come and spend the Holidays in my house with my family. I imagine that you don't want to spend it with Pierre alone in your house"

Helene stood in quiet for a moment, frowning her brows as she thought about it, about everything. First, she got anguished, remembering how they were actually supposed to celebrate it at her house along with Anatole. Then secondly, a glimpse of hope started to grow in her eyes. It became louder and louder, until she smiled at Dolokhov, agreeing with him as she thought to herself: 'Not all is lost, at least I won't be home alone with Pierre'.

They still talked for about some more minutes, mutually asking about Anatole. Neither of them had heard from him since last week, a fact that was killing any small hope that Anatole would be home for the Holidays. Soon, Helene had to leave Dolokhov in order to receive and talk to other guests, not long after that, Dolokhov left the soiree, returning to his home after spending some time at the card’s table.

Every time he got home, he silently hoped that one of the servants would say 'There's a new letter from Prince Anatole Kuragin' However, it rarely happened. Today, it wasn't the case, not a single letter from Anatole, which worsened Dolokhov's spirit, that had been slightly lifted by his talk with Helene. Dolokhov went straight to his study, going against himself and deciding to write to Anatole. In the middle of the letter, he decided that he would, in fact, not write a single word to Anatole, for Anatole didn't have the decency to send, at least, one damn letter! He threw it away, starting to read the book on his desk. In less then 10 minutes, his eyes went magnetically to his paper and pen. Dolokhov sighed, deciding that he was being childish and that he should write to Anatole and invite him in for the Holidays. This time, he was almost done when he suddenly dropped his pen. He hadn't written to Anatole ever since he left, would the Kuragin think that Dolokhov was inviting him because some sort of politeness? Not that Dolokhov would ever bother to invite someone in order to be considered 'Polite', but Anatole's brain just isn't logical sometimes. Convincing himself that Anatole would understand him, Dolokhov, with more effort than what he first intended to use, finished the letter. It was simple, direct, but it was enough to voice what he meant: He wanted to see Anatole again, he missed him.

The days passed, the weather got colder and colder, the nights being filled by snow as they were now one day before Christmas. In spite of how much time had passed, Anatole hadn't answered neither Dolokhov, neither Helene. At this point, Helene and Dolokhov had already lost all hope of spending the Holiday with Anatole.

Inevitably, The Christmas Day arrived. Gathered at Dolokhov's house were his Mother, Marya Dolokhova, his little sister, Katya Dolokhova and Helene Bezukhova. The celebration was not one of their best, it wasn't like the year in which Anatole and Dolokhov danced until falling by the floor, not like the year in which Helene and Anatole convinced Fedya to spend the Holidays abroad with them. No, this year's celebration wasn't vivid, not like before, Anatole's absence was leaving behind a feeling that something was missing. Even so, there was something cozy about this year, a warm, tender sorrow settling around in the decorated drawing room. Helene calmly talked with Dolokhov's mother as Katya questioned Fedya about Ded Moroz’s and Snegurochka’s existence:

"Fedya! It isn't true, Kitty told me!" Kitty was her friend "They don't exist!"

Now, Fedya didn't know Kitty, but she wasn't helping him to preserve his little sister's imagination. With a last effort, he tried to convince her:

"Katiucha, dearest, Kitty doesn't know what she is talking about. Believe your brother, They are real!"

Helene laughed, turning to Dolokhov to whisper:

"If you don’t tell her the truth, I will!"

"Perhaps it is time…” Dolokhov then turned to face his sister's round, childlike eyes, and then he took back his words "Definitely not" directing himself to Katya, he continued "Ded Moroz and Snegurochka are real, Katiucha"

After Dinner, Helene was about to get ready to go back home when Katya insisted that her Brother and Helene were to come with her outside to watch the snow. With very little effort, Katya convinced Fedya, and Helene did not take long to go along with them.

They gathered in the Courtyard of Dolokhov's house. Katya, with Fedya's help, sat by one of the Benches, Dolokhov and Helene sitting besides the little girl until she started to point at the sky:

"The moon! It is quite beautiful today, isn't it?"

Dolokhov smiled in a way he'd only do around his family, agreeing with Katya. Then his smile slowly vanished as he reminded of Anatole's absence.

"You didn't hear from Tolya?" Dolokhov asked Helene.

"No... How about you?"

"Nothing"

Katya frowned her brows in a way that made her look extremely alike Fedya, asking:

"Prince Kuragin hasn't returned from Petersburg yet?"

Dolokhov's smile was now totally gone as he responded in a warm sorrow:

"Not yet, dear"

The snow slowly got worse, forcing them to go back inside the small, clean and well decorated house. With much effort, Fedya convinced Katya to go back in, even if the little girl loved to watch the snow, it had became unbearable to stay outside.

Once They were inside, Marya Dolokhova joined them in the Christmas celebrations. At the beginning, they were shyly playing Christmas games, dancing and singing. Gradually, the celebrations became more and more merrily and vivid, getting to the point of Katya getting on the edge of her seat as The adults were playing the game of cards. In a childlike provocation at Fedya, Katya was heartily rooting for Helene to win. For her happiness, Helene did really win the round, causing a playful irritation to grow in Fedya.

It went like this until midnight, when Helene was in charge of distracting Katya as Fedya was in job to bring the Christmas tree into the drawing room they were gathered at. Once he was done and The Christmas tree and Katya's presents were ready in its full glory, he got the small, golden bell that hanged by one of the tables, catching his Sister’s attention.

As the girl saw the tree, her eyes popped open, sparkling at the impression of the Tree. She was smiling with open teeth, anxious to open her presents, smiling more and more at every wrapper that she threw by the floor, finding gift after gift. While that, Helene and Dolokhov were talking by the couch.

"Do you want to know something curious?"

Dolokhov asked with a grin. Helene raised a brow at him, signing for him to say it.

"Remember Count Tchekov?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Well, I did hang around for a bit in your Soiree that day. And God, I didn't even need to cheat to win at all Tchekov's cards"

Helene laughed "Tchekov? Of course! He is terrible at cards. And after two drinks, if you have two working neurons, he's a source of money!"

"I used all the old man's money to buy Katya's gifts”

“Clever guy”

Before Dolokhov could ask Helene if Pierre was home tonight, the doorbell rang, Katya suddenly lifted her eyes from her gifts, hurrying to the door, where one of the house servants were receiving the new arrived person.

"It's Ded Moroz and Snegurochka!"

Fedya was going to warn Katya not to run, but her loud steps soon became quiet as she got to the door, she gave one last loud laugh and went quiet. Faster than what she had walked out of the drawing room, she rushed back into it, quickly putting her hands above Fedya's eyes.

"Don't look! Ded Moroz and Snegurochka just brought your gift!"

He frowned brows, his mind wondering if it could be what, or rather who, he was thinking of. In less than a second, he decided that it was impossible, and pushed that little bit of hope out of his mind.

He heard a few steps by the wooden floor, feeling Helene getting agitated besides him in the couch, Dolokhov's heart beating faster against his own will. Two hands, way too familiar, at his shoulder and he thought that his heart might have exploded as well.

"There! You can open your eyes now, Fedya!"

It was Anatole Kuragin.

In one movement, Fedya opened his eyes, processing the man in front of him as Helene vividly greeted Anatole. It had been months, Fedya was still considering throwing that chair at Anatole...

"What is with that face, eh? Did you miss me?"

"I only noticed that you were gone when I found myself out of trouble for more than three days"

Yes, Dolokhov had in fact missed Anatole, and even his friend's stupid ideas.

"I'm going to pretend that I believe you"

Dolokhov decided not to use that chair, rather opting for pulling Anatole into an embrace, which caused Katya to giggle.

Dolokhov did not know to explain, but Anatole's presence suddenly lifted the house’s mood. Before he could process anything, All four of them, including Fedya's sister, were playing some Christmas game by the rug on the floor. Fedya won every single one of them, which made Anatole threaten to go back to Petersburg:

"If I knew that I only came here for you to win over me all night, I would have stayed in Petersburg"

Today, Katya, who suffered with Kyphosis, had been feeling really better than most days, her back pains almost not bothering her trough the day. However, even though she spent most of the night sitting up and Fedya helped her get around (like when they went out into the Courtyard), with all the celebrations, Katya's back was increasingly bothering her. And besides that, she was growing tired and sleepy as the time passed by. When Fedya noticed that Katya started to blink and not pay attention to the game they were playing, he helped her back into her room, allowing the little girl to finally sleep after such a night.

Dolokhov's mother was the next one to leave for her room, mostly intending to let the young adults to hang by themselves. Anatole, well... he was Anatole, and he was telling about everything he had lived in Petersburg. Eventually, Fedya asked about why he didn't answer his letter about him spending the Holidays at Moscow.

"Letter? What letter?"

"I sent you letter, about a week ago"

"Did you send it to my address in Petersburg?"

Dolokhov frowned eyes as he though 'Where the hell else was I supposed to send it to?'

"Obviously?"

Anatole gave a short laugh "Of course! I didn't receive it! I meet a friend in Petersburg" and back into another story he went "Prince Nekhliudov, do you remember him? He was with us in 'the night of the bear'". 'The night of the bear' was the night in which Anatole, Pierre and Dolokhov took a bear into a carriage, driving it around Petersburg. A Police came to calm them down, and they caught him, tying the man to the back of the bear and throwing them both into a river. A smirk appeared at Dolokhov's mouth as he remembered that night. Anatole continued "Anyway, I met with him, and he asked me to spend a few days in his new house at the camp. That was why I didn't receive your letters, I wasn't even home".

'Of course. I should have thought that something like this might have happened for him not to receive them' Dolokhov thought, suddenly wondering how he hadn't thought of it before.

Now that only the three of them were in the drawing room, the games soon became more interesting. Fedya ordered the servants to bring his best bottles of Vodka and wine as they started to play the cards again, but this time, gambling and singing along some Christmas song, until they forgot about the game and started to dance by the middle of the drawing room. Anatole was dancing in an animated rhythm with Helene when Dolokhov exclaimed:

"Yes! Show me what you got, Kuragin!"

The celebrations only ended late in the night. And when it came to be, Helene left before Anatole, way happier than when she came. Anatole, however, decided to stay for some more time. As the snow had calmed down, him and Fedya decided to spend some time outside, sharing a bottle of Vodka as they talked.

"I’ll never help you elope with anyone ever again"

Dolokhov pointed.

"Such a shame! I was about to tell you about this Petersburg's lady and-" even though Anatole was joking, Dolokhov threw a flaming gaze at him, which caused Anatole to start laughing. He slowly stoped as he asked:

"And what about Natasha Rostova?"

Dolokhov frowned brows, acknowledging that the conversation would enter a serious subject.

"Countess Natasha Rostova poisoned herself, Anatole" Dolokhov pointed, and ignoring Anatole's widened eyes, he continued "She has been at death's door. But she is out of danger now"

Anatole threw his head at his hands, in the same pose that he was when the Abduction had failed.

"Oh- I had no clue that approaching Natasha could have such an outcome"

Anatole was about to enter what seemed to be an spiral, so Dolokhov stoped him. Dolokhov had gotten the time to feel all the guilty he needed to about Natasha's fate, so, right now, he could be the voice of reason to Anatole.

"But now you do. What is done is done, Anatole. Now it's only up to you to learn from it"

"No more eloping with little girls, learned it!"

Anatole joked, but as he laughed, his eyes still seemed a little sad and guilty.

"In fact, don't elope at all" Anatole truly laughed this time, his eyes becoming joyful.

Anatole them remembered of one of Petersburg's clubs, and he started to tell Fedya that They, along with Helene, should visit it as soon as possible. Dolokhov listened to all of it, even when Anatole started to repeat the same stories from the start of the night. Before he could finish a story that Fedya already knew and had memorized the end, Anatole suddenly pointed at the sky, Fedya moved his eyes from Anatole's expression to where his finger was pointing to:

"A shooting star! Guesss we got lucky, eh? Quick! Make a wish!"

Dolokhov laughed, resting an arm across Anatole's shoulder as he concluded:

"I don't think so. I already have what I want"

[chibi-pix]

Chibi watches V3D 15

Time for an episode of Voltron: The Third Dimension!

Fifty billion inhabitants in the moon-cities!?!?! No thanks. That is way too people-y for me. Oh look, it’s Haggar. Bringing to life robot dinosaur things. I mean. It’s effective. “Yes, by all means, go away. Far away.” Yeah, I feel that on a daily basis with folks. I love the Voltron force, but dudes, I feel like I’m vibing with the space witch more.

Yeah sure, strike a black hole to mess with the gamma energy or whatever. That sounds safe. I get that it seemed to go well for the team, but still. It does not feel safe. Well, whatever. It worked.

I don’t trust Lotor with a white flag… Oh look, he wants to return Zarkon. Can’t he just keep him? “I’m in agreement with blue boy here.” Lotor, was that a reference to Lance’s uniform having been blue back in DotU? Or is he just colour blind and thinks red looks blue? Allura’s plea for Lotor to not attack the Troika moons because there are innocent folks and children there. Honey? Did you really expect him to reconsider at that? Sweetie, bless your heart.

Amalgamus really considering the destruction of the robot lions. Does he not remember the trial? It’s been pointed out that, more or less, Voltron doesn’t belong to the alliance or serve it. They serve the universe. Jeez. Someone scrap this calculator. Oh wow. This show actually says the word “massacre”?! A children’s show actually says that word?! I’m amazed.

“Will the alliance leaders decide to destroy the Voltron lions?” They have no right. Right? The lions aren’t theirs to do with as they please. And these people are dense, ready to make the sacrifice. Do they really think if the lions were destroyed that Lotor will just turn over a new leaf, be good, and no longer attack anyone? They have not seen many shows to think it’s a good idea. Bad guys NEVER play fair.

Pidge reminding Amalgamus that the lions don’t belong to him, but to Arus. Yeah! You tell him, Pidgey! Oh… Allura is ready to turn the lioons over. And Lance being pissed about things. It’s intriguing that Lance feels that they’re betraying the lions by turning them over to be destroyed. And you know what? He’s right. Honestly, I side with Lance on the matter big time.

Poor Red having to be towed. Almost seventeen minutes in, I really hope that even without her pilot, Red decides to act out, refusing to give up. C’mon, baby! Reflect your pilot! Follow his lead and not be down with this bullshit! “I keep thinking that somehow someone’s gonna stop it.” Hunk, babe. Lance is unaccounted for, with reasons, and the lions might be sentient? If Lance isn’t secretly in Red ready to cause trouble and be defiant, then I bet the lions are gonna make their opinions on the matter known. Oh, Lance wasn’t in Red at the moment. But he’s definitely fighting to defend her! Good job, Lance! Show that loyalty! Lance getting shot down, my draw dropped. And Lance is pissed with the others, calling them ex-friends.

Okay, watching the lions be wrecked and dismantled, I actually feel like I wanna cry. “What have I done?” I dunno, Allura. Maybe just betrayed the lions who were nothing but loyal and faithful to you guys and doomed the universe?

Oh. Voltron lights just shot off. Hoo boy… I wonder where they went.

Yeah, it’s no surprise that Lotor’s fleet is turning back around and not gonna be destroyed. Amalgamus should have seen this coming. He. Is. Flawed. Stupid calculator.

The team better find a way to make things up to Lance and then find out where those lion lights went and make it up to them and get them back. Otherwise? Bye bye Alliance HQ.

Okay, all in all? I'm intrigued. I may have a vague idea of what kinda happens in the next episode due to some clips shown in the past in a discord server, but, we'll see on the next time I watch an episode. Also, as much as I vibe with Haggar's little comments, I also vibe with Lance's wit and logic. The man holds the brain cell it seems. Good for him.

Anyway, that's it for the night. Until next time!

[flaetsbnortoriginals]

So I am a bit wild about the introduction to Fortles, by Sam Mameli. Because it's a great example of... well, let me explain. This zine is clearly based on Troika, and wants people who know Troika to know it. At the same time, it doesn't want anyone who picked it up randomly to think 'oh, this is an adventure hook for an RPG I don't play' so it hides that connection in a way that someone unfamiliar with Troika would never figure it out.

I think everyone understands why I absolutely don't want to call it dogwhistling. But you know. Giving information to a section of your audience that understands a subject while hiding it from the general public. Technically.

The intro, written in-character by the fictional author Salvador Moss, goes like this. (I've omitted some parts irrelevant to my argument.)

My name is Salvador Moss, sorcerer emeritas of the College of Friends, sellsword of Melsonia, and befouler of ponds. (...) It gives me great pleasure to present this travelogue of my time spent barge hopping across the hump-back sky in search of a comprehensive understanding of the fortle. This creature is seen in nearly every sphere of creation (...)

The first thing that jumps to the eye to someone who knows Troika here is the word Melsonia. To those who don't know, it just feels like the name of a random fantasy place. One might clock it as a reference, but it's not overt. This is hilarious to me, though, because it's not a reference to a fictional place, but a meta-reference to the name of Troika's publishers, Melsonian Art Council. In fact, by referring to himself as a sellsword, it's a genius way to say he's a freelancer, unassociated with the official publisher.

Right after that, he calls himself a befouler of ponds. Now, this is where I should say that something that aids this enterprize immensely is that the world of Fortles, much like Troika, is gonzo until it leaks, and it's full of weird stuff that feels like it makes internal sense but you don't need to understand right now. Being a 'befouler of ponds' fits right in with this aesthetic. But of course it does, since it's one of the available character classes from Troika. In fact, IIRC, it's one of the first ones, and it's weird enough to be one of the most memorable entries in the beginning of the list, when you're still looking at the classes through awestruck eyes. Its reference is deliberated and rightly made.

I haven't much to talk about the next reference, since it's the same as the previous one, only to a lower degree: it's when he says 'barge hopping'. To someone who doesn't know Troika but figured out the world, it's a sentence that's easily understood as a gonzo fantasy version of backpacking. But Troika fans will have the additional context of knowing that Barges are a setting element, being the name of the round ships capable of moving between worlds.

Speaking of worlds... the coup de grace is mentioning every sphere of creation. That's just a very common turn of phrase, feels very apt for a gonzo fantasy story, substituting an expression that makes different presumptions about the nature of the world, like "all around the globe". There's no way anyone unfamiliar with Troika would figure out that spheres are what the different worlds are called within the setting, and that this seemingly innocent sentence is actually saying that the titular fortles are ready to be dropped in whatever adventure in Troika your hapless adventurers should find themselves in.

Anyway, brilliant book. I love the stoic sea turtle and the banana-carrot.

[imminentinertia]

I love Perth Nakhun's snack test videos (and the videos where he reads BL mangas), which is wildly out of character for me because usually video anything is so fucking slow and full of unnecessary word wasting and sound effects and stupid shit, it drives me insane. Perth is probably magical.

So now that he's tried sweets from Norway, I'm going to fucking blog my comments.

1. Stupedama Myke lakriskuler (I wrote lakriskuker first. If you know Norwegian, you get this). Stupedama (Diving Lady) is really nice entry level salty liquorice. DON'T KEEP THEM IN THE FRIDGE, PERTH. MYKE MEANS SOFT. Very pleased that he liked them, even though they were chilled and discoloured. Let's be honest, the Dutch salty liquorice he's tried is... not entry level.

2. The fans sent him Sørlandschips with Thai chili flavour bwahahahaha. Really now. Send him plain salt, they're great salted thick cut crisps. The "Thai Chili" is awful. Evil fans. Glad he didn't like them.

3. Melkehjerter has never been pronounced in a cuter way. What are you doing, Perth, how wide is your mouth to fit that lump I'm - - Okay, he likes it. That's a really sweet and bland chocolate but okay.

4. Gomp means bird's ass, for the record, but few Norwegians know. Kids like them. Perth too.

5. Omg that poor melted Stratos. Actually that's a really good but very sweet milk chocolate, aerated, and it's nice when it's intact. You'd think melting doesn't alter the taste, but it alters the experience. But how did he find mint in it?!

6. Hockeypulver is NOT entry level! It's sugar and ammonium chloride with a hint of liquorice! Poor Perth. And then he can't stop eating it, I know what that is like.

7. Straight up everyday Maarud Potetgull. Don't worry about the paprika, Perth, it's hardly there, okay he liked it. Btw potetgull is a propriety eponym in parts of Norway - to me, in my dialect area, all crisps are potetgull (often shortened to pottis).

8. Lefsegodt can't have survived the trip... Okay maybe. Congrats on the cinnamon, Perth. Sorry, no, the cinnamon isn't intense. Also, for those foreigners who know of lefse, Lefsegodt isn't that. It's thick lefse with butter, sugar and cinnamon, not thin regular lefse for savoury foods.

9. Lutti Pokémon gummies is something I've never had, so I'll just accept that Perth thinks they're chewy and fairly nice.

10. Mmmmm Smash. They're so fucking addictive. But there's hardly any chocolate left on the one Perth ate, because it's melted... Poor guy didn't get the full Smash experience.

11. Laban Seigmenn are indeed unusually soft for gummies, but were they that awful, Perth? Boo hiss.

12. Gullbrød is great. No it's not supposed to look like that. Ahaha surprise marzipan which he thought was coconut. Doesn't Australia or Thailand do marzipan? He seems completely unfamiliar with it.

13. No, that's called Kvikklunsj, love. It's basically Kit Kat, yes, so it's nice. Glad he liked it.

14. Oh, fancy crisps! From Frosta. Delicious. Very pleased he thinks it's delicious too. Pepper crisps are great.

15. Preparing to fight him about Caramel Smash, because caramel is an abomination. Did he just pronounce it ca-ma-rel? Bedtime, Perth?

16. Omg Lovehearts, I haven't had those since I was about 5 years old and starting to tire of pure sugar sweets. Neither has Perth. There's a reason why we stopped eating them. They're a tried and true heartburn medicine though, or so my friends who have been pregnant say.

17. That is not a Norwegian thing. It's a DDR thing, iirc. Hmph. Glad he didn't like Schlager Süßtafel.

18. Troika is possibly my favourite chocolate, but it's sad that it has melted and I bet he'll hate the marzipan... Okay, the faces he makes are amazing. I almost forgive him for not liking it.

19. Nero is kinda horrible, I think. Perth is adorably surprised at the liquorice, and I don't blame him for not being a fan.

[halucygeno]

Roadside Picnic 2017 Bulgarian edition - “Translator’s note” by Milan Asadurov.

Original title: “Бележка на преводача” Translated by: yours truly

The first Bulgarian translation of “Roadside Picnic”, created in 1982, was, naturally, based on the butchered 1980 edition from the Moscow-based publisher “Molodaya Gvardiya”*. At that time, when Bulgaria was the most loyal satellite of the Soviet Union, there simply couldn’t be any other official edition. When I wrote to Arkady Natanovich in 1981, asking him to clarify the nature of some of the Zone’s artefacts so I may better translate their jargonistic names into Bulgarian, his polite and laconic answer amounted to: “Boy, instead of fixating on the details so much, quickly get the translation to print before they stop it!” The authors were excited because this was the first time the book was published abroad.

Apropos, we tried to do the same with "Tale of the Troika" six years later. After a long struggle, I managed to dig up a xerocopy of a few issues of the Siberian magazine "Angara". That's where the "scandalous" sequel to "Monday Begins on Saturday" was published, a decision which parted the magazine’s head editor from his post. I translated "Tale..." with great pleasure, but even though the perestroika had already started, the Plovdiv-based publisher "Hristo G. Danov" couldn't reach an agreement with VUOAP** about the release of this government-sanctioned novel. (It took all the way till 1993 before it was published here.)

When the publishing house "Ciela" proposed to re-release "Roadside Picnic", I read the old translation which my Plovdivian colleagues had published three times by 1989 (!) and happily determined that it hadn't aged at all. (In no small part thanks to my editor at the time, Zdravka Petrova!)

Of course, I immediately began purging it of any meddling from the editors of "Molodaya Gvardiya". I removed unwanted additions, restored cut down passages, made it so stalkers can once again swear, drink and sleep with girls. In other words, I tried my best to recreate, in Bulgarian, the version of “...Picnic” specially prepared by Boris Natanovich for the 2003 release of their collected works. The plot remains the same; editorial interference had left it almost undamaged. Except now, readers can see the novel in its full glory and understand why Andrei Tarkovsky fell in love with it, and wanted to recreate it in his genius film “Stalker”, differently, through a different language - the language of cinema.

Milan Adasurov

Varna, September 2017.

*Молодая гвардия; Russian for “Young Guard”. In 1980, they published “Неназначенные встречи: Научно-фантастические повести“ (”Unintended meetings: Science-fiction stories”), an anthology containing “Roadside Picnic”, “Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel” and “Space Mowgli”. This was the first time Roadside Picnic had been released as a full story, rather than serialised in magazines.

**ВУОАП – Всесоюзное управление по охране авторских прав. Translates to “All-Union Administration for the Protection of Copyrights“. There’s no English acronym.

Source:

Strugatsky, A & B. (2017). Пикник край пътя (M. Asadurov, Trans.) Сиела. (Original work published 1972). ISBN: 9789542824442

https://www.ciela.com/piknik-kray-patya.html

[dicestew]

Root Reads: Bastards. Pearlescent Edition

Bastards is a minimalist "dragon games" inspired TTRPG by Micah Anderson and can be found at Spear Witch webstore. I'll be doing a read through and share my thoughts with yall. Let's get started.

As you can see in the table of content above, the rules are super simplified and streamlined. You roll a d20 only when the action is risky or if failure would end up making the story more interesting. If the result is under the relevant stat then you succeed. There are only three stats: Strength, Dexterity, and Wisdom. Luck is another stat where you have limited amount of Luck to be used in a test to try to push the situation toward your favor. This Luck stat is pretty much the same mechanic as the Luck in Troika! TTRPG. Pretty much your typical rules-lite OSR philosophy like Cairn or Into the Odd.

All of the rules pretty much take up a page each and keep in mind this book is super tiny - like A6 tiny. The combat rules above is a perfect example of how each rule is listed out per page. Combat is super dangerous and should be avoided as much as possible. You start with 1d+Strength as your HP and you have to test Luck if you reach 0 HP. Strong OSR style danger here. Your starting HP will determine your class which remind me a lot of Into the Odd with the backgrounds based on what you roll for HP and highest Ability Score. The class options are pretty much your standard fantasy classes like wizard, fighter, thief, etc. However there are two that intrigues me - acrobat and diviner:

Would love to play as an acrobat. Who doesn't want to try to get through small spaces?! Inventory is basically a slot-based system where injuries will take up a slot therefore reducing space for additional item to be stored. There rea generic starting loadouts for all characters then you roll up the weapon your character will have.

The opposition rule here is pretty interesting - In order to succeed you have to roll within the range of your opponent's HD/Level to your relevant stat. I find this interesting because you don't see a range type of threshold often in TTRPGs. Next section is all about spellcasting. Basically you roll up your spell at character creation and you will get an action word and 1-2 object words. I love this because you can really be creative about how your spells work based on the words you rolled up. Leveling up is so simple. You simply level up every other session or whenever you did something epic. You gain 1 HP and test against one of your stats to attempt to raise it by one. Simple as that.

That's it. 18 pages of basic rules and char creation. Keep in mind this is in A6 format so the writing is very streamlined and minimalist. I love it.

Rest of the book is basically the GM section with optional rules, gm guides, and tools.

The optional rules include tracking time and light, exploring in hexes, rolling for encounters with some sample tables, followers, list of NPCs you can hire as hirelings, and a reaction table with guide. All of those are very straightforward rules and typical of OSR games but very streamlined.

The bestiary section comes with this nice guide of how to make your monsters and you can see how this makes it easy to convert monsters from other OSR games by using their HD stat. Also, there are several pages worth of monster statblocks available to be used in the sessions.

Next section focuses on procedures to create your dungeon such as traps, adding some neat tricks like illusory wall, generating treasures, a list of magic items, a list of different potions, magic wands, and the most important - a guide on how to design your dungeon!

There is a lot of random tables, optional classes, and stuff like that. Just look at this one:

The last page is a funnel-0 rules which totally rocks. I love funnels! TLDR: This is a great minimalist style OSR game with all the tools you need to make your own dungeon in a tiny A6 book!

TO BUY: Spear Witch (physical+PDF) Itch.io (PDF)

[choccy-zefirka]

Random memory unlocked: when I was a kid, about 10 years old maybe, I was going through a Bambi-induced deer obsession phase that included what I knew of Rudolph from American cartoons, so I wrote a story (yes another one) where Rudolph, being bullied by the other reindeer, runs away to Russia (!) and hangs out with the forest critters there, befriending Santa's Russian cousin, Father Frost. He also experienced a bit of a culture shock, even though geographically Santa and Father Frost do not live that far from each other, but since I mostly knew of the Western version of Christmas from American movies I guess I assumed that Santa and his entourage lived somewhere in the United States.

I never finished writing the thing, but I know that the main friends Rudolph made were the three horses from Father Frost's troika sled: December, January and February. December was a kind of dark and broody and mean badboy stallion, January was more of a soft dad friend, and February was a young horse, because February is the shortest month. She was also a girl, despite all month names in Russian being masculine gendered, but the word for February, fevral', sounds a little bit "girlier" I guess because of the soft L' ending... And Rudolph needed a girly love interest because heteronormativity.

[autisticmight]

parents put the christmas playlist on in the car. 'i believe in father christmas' (greg lake) leads to me enthusing about the lyricism and how much i love the word choices, and how the usage of 'troika' in the refrain links it to history and how it's really cool

then 'christmas lights' (coldplay) comes on. and i can't really say much about that

[percontaion-points]

Everlife chapter 18

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 18

Maybe I should have followed Alejandro’s orders before this started. Maybe I should have gone to the warehouse and done everything in my power to save Sloan and cleanse the infected humans. Would Ying Wo Ling still live? Would Alejandro be with his people? 

And then what? If Ten had participated in that battle, she would then have to turn around and go fight another battle. And then another. And then another. And then… 

No matter if you think that Ten is actually going to achieve her goal, she’s actually working towards literally any kind of long-term cease-fire here. She’s not simply showing up to fight a battle for the sake of fighting the battle. 

No matter Lina’s age, though, Looney Lina acted five years old. The milky film over her eyes blinded her, whether physically or psychologically, but only to the present.

This is literally the first time that I’m hearing that Lina is supposed to be blind.

The woman literally removed a microchip from Ten in the first book. With surgical precision, I might add! 

But sure. She’s blind. 

With a snarl, he reaches through the cage, and though he can’t touch me, his shadows can; they extend from his fingertips to wrap around my neck and squeeze. As I fight for air…

If you’re dead, why do you need to breathe? 

Daddy loves me. Daddy loves me not. Loves me. Loves me not.

Daddy dearest would have sold out his own daughter to Satan for one corn chip crumb. I don’t think that this man knows the meaning of the word love. 

“You destroyed my Firstlife. It’s nice to see you’re finally getting what you deserve.”

Um… You did that all by yourself. Zero sympathy, dude. 

“Won’t I? She attempted to defect to Troika, a terrible crime. As punishment, she was placed in the Kennels until early this morning, when she was gifted to me. I’m allowed to harm her however I wish.” 

“Gifted to you? As if she’s a pair of shoes?” Does any life other than his own hold any meaning to him?

Sweetie, most of us figured out that your father is a raging narcissist when we learned why you were literally being raped and tortured in an asylum in Russia simply so that he could have a nice afterlife. 

“You have no one but yourself to blame.”

Chapter 18 summary: Javier takes Ten through the cities, screaming out who she is for everybody to hear. People boo and throw things at her. Ten mopes, and then she gets a bit of light from Jeremy. He isn’t a conduit, mainly because I think that there is an age limit on that sort of thing. But he’s still able to fill her with healing light because she’s his sister and he loves her, no matter what. This reminds Ten that love is a powerful thing, and she holds this over Javier’s head. 

Lina briefly shows up, but disappears before she can say or do anything. I don’t know what this accomplished except to remind the readers that this subplot and Lina’s predictions are still on the table. 

Dior shows up, and she looks terrible. She begs Javier to stop. But then she tells Ten that her father is coming. 

And he shows up, and basically lords over her all of these shitty obligations that children should be expected to do for their parents. But Ten is also like “You had me locked up because I refused to obey you.” He has his wife/her mother on a chain like a dog, and says that mommy dearest refuses to obey, even now. He threatens to kill her, and when Ten continues to remind him of how shitty he is, he slits mom’s throat and tells Ten that this is all her fault. 

[prokopetz]

Thanks – I've fixed up all of the noted issues that won't require major rewrites and uploaded revised files. To address specific comments in the order in which they appear (under the cut to spare the dashboard):

d12s are actually my very favourite die. I've historically tried to restrain myself because most people don't own more than one twelve-sider, but we're in an era where most groups are using dice-rolling apps anyway, so that's less of a barrier than once it was. Heck, Costume Fairy Adventures probably would have used d12s rather than d6s if sourcing custom d12s for the crowdfunding rewards hadn't turned out to be a huge pain in the ass.

You've just about got it for the Facets. In full, the rules for Facet spreads are "must add up to 15, no Facet may be greater than 7, no Facet may be less than 3; at least one Facet must be 6 or greater". That means the only valid spreads are 7/5/3, 7/4/4, 6/6/3, and 6/5/4. I might add some discussion of that in a future revision, but for now being concise was a bigger priority.

(There's a specific rationale behind each of those requirements, including the "at least one 6" bit, but I'd be lying if I claimed that the fact that they make every possible permutation of Facets fit neatly into a d66 table – thereby allowing balanced stat spreads to be randomly chosen – wasn't a significant motivator. I do love my stupid dice tricks.)

I don't need to write a game where dwarves are carved from stone because that's actually a fairly common trope in tabletop RPGs. Troika! springs most readily to mind because one of the standard templates you can roll at character creation is "Poorly Made Dwarf", but there are plenty of others.

No comment regarding the squirrels.

It's mostly the case that the ones which lack alliteration are because I was in a hurry to get this teaser out the door and couldn't think of one. I passed up the obvious alliteration for "Mighty Thews" because I like the ring of it, and "Unusual SIze" is, of course, a not-terribly-subtle Princess Bride joke. If anybody has ideas regarding alliterative names for the ones that are presently one word or otherwise non-alliterative, I'm open to suggestions!

The subject of true names will be addressed in depth in the as-yet-hypothetical "Playing the Game" chapter. I should probably add something about it to the "Finishing Touches" section of character creation now that you mention it, though. In brief, the default assumption is that God-eaters all know each others' true names unless they explicitly decide otherwise at character creation, while discovering the true names of NPCs is variably difficult; your average human doesn't think to keep theirs a secret, but digging up the true name of a mighty wizard will take some doing.

Snot may also be G-rated, depending on how permissive your local ratings board is. It's a bit of a squick for some players, though, so it's not a default option.

With my schedule being The Way That It Is lately, I don't know when I'll be able to pull together a complete and playable version of Eat God, so I'm hoping this will sustain interest until that time comes. This document contains the complete character creation rules, more or less, incorporating reader feedback from the previous thread.

For those who've expressed interest in giving the character creation rules a spin, well, here you go!

For those just joining us (and anyone who's been following this blog all along but has somehow managed to miss every single previous post), Eat God is a tabletop roleplaying game where you play as a bunch of small muppety critters who are – as the title suggests – on a mission to kill and eat God. Its inspirations include... well, I'm going to let y'all work that out for yourselves.

As always, comments, criticisms, and bizarre rants welcome, though I can't promise I'll be able to respond in any timely fashion.

[dienamights]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖉 | 𝕶.𝕭𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 | ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯. 𝖨

Desperate to escape the wrath of the all too powerful magick wielding Sizithian ruler, your father sends you off to wed the king of the Protectorate of Sha, upon his daunting request.

For the very first time, you set off outside of the confines of your home, traveling east to resentfully start your very unwanted life. But beyond the walls of your kingdom is more than what meets the eye.

The world you live in isn’t as peaceful as you always thought it would be, the mythical creatures whose stories you used to recall to the children of the kingdom stare you in the eye, elves, fairies and mermaids alike. It was also then that you witnessed the full capability of the dragon’s wing to summon an eclipse as it flew over the land below it. And just like all the stories you knew about; the untold tale of the dragon raid will inevitably lead to the greatest war of all.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

✎ Word count: 3K

✎ Caution(!): None for this chapter

✎ Taglist: OPEN

✎ Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy!! thank you sm for being patient with me :((

⤆ 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 Ⅱ ⤇

“I am not here to ask for her hand in marriage, I am here on behalf of my father, Princess y/n is to wed His Majesty, Enji Todoroki, the King the Protectorate of Sha.”

“What!?” you give a loud screech, the sound of your chair scraping against the floor adding to the effect of your dramatic stance, standing up again to glare at the prince - no piss colored eye prick is gonna freak you out this time… hopefully.

“This is preposterous.” your father howls, the scroll scrunching in his grip as it tightens, whatever warmth his eyes held when the prince first arrived is now all gone, replaced by cold blooded rage. “It's embarrassing that you even think we’ll even consider this offer.” he bellowed, his initial glare only hardening when it didn't faze the prince standing in front of him.

“Guards,” the king calls hastefully, and not even a blink later, the room is surrounded by dozens of them, all on guard and waiting for a signal to pull their swords from their sheaths, not hesitating to spill blood when their king orders it. “Prince Shoto. Your stay has been short of pleasant, you are to be escorted with your carts, your good for nothing troika back to where you came from.”

You’re not sure what you're more surprised about, the fact that your father is defending you after all that he's done to you himself, or the fact that the prince doesn't seem all that bothered. You gaze at the dual-haired man, trying to catch sight of the golden glint of his eye, but there’s nothing, and you almost disregard that it even happened in the first place.

The king stands tall, his queen by his side, both with a look of disappointment that you memorize like the back of your hand, relieved that even if for once, it isn’t directed at you.

“Your majesty,” Prince Shoto calls, still nonchalant despite the looming shadows over his form as he leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “The scroll... “ You can only imagine what he thinks of, are his shoulders shaking in fear? Or rage? You honestly are too scared to ask.

Yet your father is careless about it, dropping the crumbled sheet haphazardly on the table and unraveling it. You expect him to scoff, that demeaning breath of air that mocked you every time you invested a single second in the things that you loved to do. Maybe a laugh, the sound that haunts you every time your eyes glance at the castle walls, wishing for nothing but to discover what is beyond them.

But, the way his breath catches in his throat has you rigid, only then realizing that you haven’t moved a single inch since you stood at the revealed news, you approach your father, your strides so heavy you thought your shoes were nailed to the ground when you tried taking your first step, but when you do take that initial leap, the rest just don’t seem that simpler.

Your wavering eyes glance over to the scroll, the writing smudged from what you’re assuming is the prince’s travels, or maybe it was the amount of sweat your father is producing that is dripping heavily on it. Your sight falls upon the bizarre language at the bottom, particularly when your father runs his wrinkly thumb against it and smudges it even more, almost like he’s trying to rub it out, especially when your hand falls atop his to move it away to try and decipher what it says.

“The emperor of the Szithians issued an order. Your daughter is to accompany me back to the Protectorate of Sha in a week’s time, she is to wed the king, and she is to live amongst her people there.” You can’t really tell what the prince is saying, the entire world around you is muted when your eyes fall on the first few words. Szithian… Krahn forest is located in Szithian, isn’t it?

You only breathe out a scoff, much like that of your father’s after hearing it one too many times, you can almost feel your body shiver at the way only the sound makes you feel, even if it slips past your own lips. “What the actual hell are you talking about?!”

“You’re throwing out names thinking it’ll faze his majesty?” You round the table, every click your shoes make ringing in your ears, judging how unladylike you’re being, how unfitting of royalty you actually are.

No, screw everything about being royal and a part of this castle, screw everyone for making choices for you, screw this life you’re forced to live.

For the first time in your life, you realize how big of an impact your father’s ego has on your life, how mighty he saw himself, indestructible, and even if you don’t believe it, you’ll use it to daunt the prince, chase him and his stupid army of carts away from your kingdom, from your home, from your entire life.

“I see…” your father’s tight voice stops you in your tracks, breath hitching in your throat when you realize how defeated he really seems. How beaten down, how he sounds like he’s about to say…

“If that’s the case then… I accept your proposal.”

The world stops spinning, and your eyes, much like the fragile glass that surrounds your heart, shatters into a billion pieces, the shards falling into oblivion. You stop yourself from falling flat on your face when you lose balance, hands perched on the side of the table as your stomach aches as if it's being ripped open from the inside out. Overwhelmed and in absolute denial, you don’t dare lift your head from when you dropped your sight, eyes widened and clouded with tears as shuddering breaths slip past your lips.

“We will assign a room for your highness to settle in for as long as you see fit, o-of course after all of the-, the troubles of your travels-”

“We leave at the dawn of the seventh day, no day later.” You let out a more condescending puff of air, knowing how your father threatens the life of anyone who dares show the slightest disrespect to his majesty. Waiting, hoping, for him to ask the guards to take him away, maybe have his head, scoop those heterochromatic eyes and dump them in boiling water.

There he is, lips parted to spit out an order for his head…

“I understand.”

“...what?” you breathe out, voice breaking. “What about-”

“It's settled, her highness has that time to pack her things, she shan't be escorted by any of your majesty’s army nor escorts. From this day forth, Princess y/n is under the custody of the Protectorate of Sha and by default under the ruling of the emperor of Szithian.”

Is this a dream? Your face softens for a second at the possibility, bringing your hand closer to your face to bite at your fingernail, hissing when you bite into your skin, shaking your hand at the sting and gritting your teeth at the trail of blood on your finger.

You do the last thing you think you’ll ever do, you turn to look up at your father pleadingly, the thought of going down on your knees begging for him to decline that offer so close to being a reality, almost regretting ever wanting to see what’s beyond the castle walls, cooped up inside that hell prison sounding like paradise now that it's being snatched away from between your fingers. Yet, his voice pierces right through you with every syllable that he says.

“Understood.”

“So, that’s just it?” you screech, stepping away when your weeping mother approaches you to hold you close to her, to brush her hand against your cheek and shush your cries, what she does every time your father yells at you, shakes you to your core when you make one little mistake, when you step one foot out of line. Because the sound of your cries stressed his majesty, your sharp wails disturbed his guests, so she silenced you, tucked your whimpering self into bed, and waited for you to sleep with your tears glistening and dampening your cheeks.

“Aren’t you… fighting for me? I’m your daughter...”

You don't even wait for him to answer, too horrified of the decision he just made on behalf of yourself, turning around sharply to exit the room, shoving at the guard’s chest when his movement to push the doors open is too slow for your liking, he’s hindering your getaway, you don't want to see your father’s face, nor your mother’s, you just want to leave.

Running aimlessly down the hall, clouded vision obstructing your escape yet shaking your head to rid of your tears at the voice of your father calling the guards to bring Yui over, and to find you, to probably knock some sense into you. Yet you follow the path you taught yourself all these years, slipping through the empty dining room and darting behind a column in the gallery that overlooks the sitting room downstairs when the guards’ armors rattle behind you, hearing them curse when you’re quick to lose them.

Making your way down the spiral staircase at the end of the gallery, tripping over your dress and swearing when you hear it rip, kicking off your heels when their clicking gets too loud for you, distracting you when you try to think of where to go next, making your way to the other end of the castle while bunching up your dress above your knees, climbing the set of stairs to make it to the empty music room.

At the kiss of night the air took on a welcoming soothing quality, something you desperately need after your lungs burned with the sobs that wreck your body and the way your bare feet ran and jumped away from everyone, you push the gate to the balcony of the music room, closing the door behind you and holding your breath when you hear the men’s hurried stomps, dividing themselves to find you and get Yui, inhaling the air when their steps retreat as if you just remembered how to breathe again, stumbling and gripping the railing with trembling fingers, the view ahead of you blurring as tears cloud your vision, trickling down your warm cheeks.

A part of you has always known something like this would happen, how your father would wed you off of ‘his kingdom’, put up with the life you’re bound to live in as a royal in this world, being moved from one cage to another, like some displayed animal the people of Akhira awed at as they passed by.

You inhale the air as if you’d risen from the deepest parts of the ocean, but you’ve never felt more drowned in your life. A subtle knock on the brick wall pulls a gasp from you, the prince giving you an apologetic bow when you turn to face him.

“Your highness-”

“Knock it off…” you whimper, a broken lilt to your voice that has the prince’s form wavering, mismatched eyes following the trail of your kohl infused tears leaving their mark as they slide down your cheeks and drip from your chin.

“Forgive me, your-” he clears his throat at your half assed glare,

“His majesty was ecstatic about having found a suitor for you… prior to knowing it was my father.” he waits for a lull, a hum, any sound to urge him to carry on, but nothing, he does what he can, straighten his back and look ahead into the kingdom he's about to drag you away from.

"One moment I'm incredibly meaningful to him... when he suddenly sees some value in me, next minute I'm background at best.” you laugh bitterly as the wind kisses at your cheeks, and you wipe the smudged tears with the back of your hand, only looking up when the prince hands you his handkerchief while looking away, helping you preserve whatever dignity you might still have left as you try to pull yourself together.

“Can't say which one I prefer. The transitions are making my head spin. I understand that everything is 'need-to-know at the last minute' for a purpose, but some days it feels like my entire life is lived for the sake of others." The air swirls and eddies around you, as if you were the rocks within a great and wide riverbed. But you feel nothing more than just a measly speck of sand, carried and guided by the wind away from who you truly are.

“Forgive me… but you must know this is out of my hand-”

“How? You came in here, layed out your demands, and they’re now handed to you on a golden platter… how- how is this - any of this - out of your hand?”

“Do you presume I desire this?” the growl in the prince’s voice, reverberating deep within his chest, frightens something inside of you. Maybe it was the little girl that always stood trembling like a leaf whenever her father stood facing her, looking down at her so demeaningly that only thing she could do is cry and ask for forgiveness, getting sent to bed without supper to discipline her, simply for wanting to live life like any child would, like any child should. But instead is ordered to watch her father gut bunnies as a form of punishment, only for her to cry herself to sleep for the next three days, the vision of colonel whiskers writhing and squeaking before lying lifeless with his blood tainting his pearly white coat forever engraved in her memory.

But, you aren’t that little girl anymore.

At least, you hope you aren’t…

“It doesn’t matter if you desire this or not, ‘your highness’.” you spit his title like venom on your tongue. “What matters is that it's going to happen, and I'm going to break free from one prison only to be swallowed by another.”

It takes a few seconds for the prince to gather his thoughts, and right when he parts his lips to address you, you cut him off by shoving a wrinkled paper in his face, upon further inspection, the prince realises that you stole the scroll when you ran off.

“Since you and I are gonna be stuck together, and… I guess I’m gonna be your step-mother? Ugh, can’t believe this is my life-” you groan, looking up to glare at the halftoned prince when you suspect a snort leaving him, yet finding his face incredibly stoic.

“I- I need your help, um, could you, tell me what this says?” you scratch at your arm, fidgeting with your sleeve while Shoto squints down at the writing, and disappointment weighs heavy on your shoulders when he shakes his head no. “Please excuse me, your- uh, y/n, it's my first time reading it, I was ordered to deliver the scroll to your father, nothing else.”

“Since I have time, would you, look into it with me? We got a library… it would help if we were both looking.” you purse your lips when the prince eyes you for a second. “You’re not gonna be doing much during your stay, your highness-”

“Fine, I guess you’re right, I shall assist you in looking into that language, to be frank I’m kind of curious about its origins myself.” you nod with a weak smile, rolling the scroll back and wrapping your trembling fingers around it.

“By the way, you mentioned something about being ordered? By your father?”

“The emperor, actually”

“Oh-”

You swallow with a struggle, just the mention of the dark mage having you shaking in fear, stepping away from him when he hands it back to you.

“You wield magick?”

“No.”

“Is this why you’re here, then?” The question alone awakens something feral in the Prince of Sha, and you decide to step away when the golden glint you acquaintanced yourself with shows itself, nodding to him before leaning against the railing again to look onto the kingdom you’re bound to leave in a week’s time.

“I shall take my leave-”

“You should. Tell Yui -only Yui- she can find me here.”

“Right, please excuse me… y/n.” Shoto bows heavily, straightening up to cast you a glare, to find you throwing one back to him after your exaggerated courtesy.

It doesn’t take much for you to hear Yui’s rattling armour that announces her arrival, turning swiftly to watch her bow at you, stiffening her back in hesitation before she engulfs you in a hug.

“Gossip really travels faster than light in this place, huh.” you sniffle, running your hand along Yui’s backplate and shivering at the coolness kissing at your fingertips, you shush her when you hear her profusely apologize, gripping her spaulders to slowly urge her back to look at her face, smiling to calm her down despite the tears collecting in your lash line.

“B-but- your highness, what’re you gonna do?”

Your mind clears like a sun emerging after what could only look like an infinitude fog, dropping the torch you were using to find clarity after years of confusion.

You hear the sound of children laughing, the sound of you laughing, running around the meadow for hours, swimming in muddy little creeks, lying between the tall stalks of wheat and watching the sun slowly pass over your head, speculating on where your adventure would take you next, whether you’d take north or pick a mountain hidden far away and point to it with enthusiasm before marching your way towards it.

Except now, that laughter sounds like music that mends your broken heart, your ruptured will, your cracked drive. That heals wounds dug deep within your soul like your blood is a liquid miracle, the wounds that tore at you for years while you buried it all down. Watching the cuts shrink to nothing as if the waters of ages had weathered them to nothing but smooth skin, soft to the touch. For you are about to break free from a prison invisible to others, that suffocates you to no end, but no more.

“Easy,” you grin at Yui, stroking her ebony hair softly, as a way to brace her for what you’re about to reveal to her.

“m’running away.”

⤷ 𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔲𝔭 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔩: 𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔶

© dienamights 2021-2022 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

⤶ Back to The Dragon Raid Masterlist

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[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

I don't know that I agree your opinions mean "jack shit", but I've been interested/enjoying them so far

I do appreciate that!

I think I should clarify that what I mean is that, at the end of the day, everything I say in regards to this show *is* just an opinion and, more specifically, it's my personal opinion. Despite joking, despite sounding "firm" or saying something snarky like "I will not be entertaining arguments at this time", I do not at all (ever) expect or encourage people to agree with what I say. I don't put the content in the tag; I keep a lot of things to myself and mind my business; I mull things over and come to an understanding that I don't need to say anything in regards to the conversation. I am aware that social media is not private - anyone can see what I have to say at any time. I am fully aware that my observation comes from being a fan of CATS for a *very* long time and that, in itself, forms a bias. I am not an actual expert in anything - I am not one to take the word of above a grain of salt. This is just my CATS sideblog. I just talk about cat people.

A lot of my "concern" or "dislike" or general critique (which is never to be taken personally) is completely superficial and preference based (because at the end of the day, who does this affect? Not me - not you guys - certainly not a multi million dollar show or ALW or RUG or any of them. I can assure you they don't care a *lick*). However, it does come from a place of careful observation of what the *company* is doing - what are the *creatives* doing, and then asking why. What's the *motive* behind this? Does this affect the performers (Troika non-equity/budget cuts)? Did/does it affect others in the creative team (Gillian Lynne; cheaper print costumes that rip easier and put more strain on the costume department)? Does it have the possibility of affecting casual audiences who *aren't* familiar with the show (If I am a random person off the street who goes to see CATS on a whim, is the structure of the show working? Are changes helping or hindering the already hard to understand narrative/loose show? Can I tell any kind of difference in character individuality or is it going to be an overwhelming blur and hard to enjoy? If I have a bad seat - can I see faces at all?)? Does the choice carry negative connotation with it (Rap Tugger)?

I never want to make people feel pressured or "wrong" in how they feel about something, how they interpret something, especially if they happen to like it. Because you aren't "wrong" if you like any of the changes, you aren't wrong if you like the 2019 movie, you aren't wrong if you prefer the updated choreography over the old stuff, you aren't wrong in your casting preference. Then on the other end of the spectrum, you aren't wrong if you *dislike* changes, you aren't wrong if a makeup or costume design just isn't working for you, or if an interpretation/production isn't good, or you don't love the way a performer does something (as long as you are not *telling them directly* or are commenting on Youtube videos/social medias of those performers) - you aren't wrong about any of it. As long as you are respectfully engaging with things, that's not a good word to be using in these scenarios. None of this is meant to be taken or defended personally. You are enjoying and engaging with the show in the way you wish to enjoy the show, which is what it's about.

Anyway, that was too long of an answer. Disclaimer is just when I say anything that is an opinion, while I always appreciate support or engagement, I am also one voice in a sea of conversation happening. If I am engaging critically with something I like, I am also appreciating what it *does* give me and understanding that my opinion is not universal.