#truly I think about this all the time it’s wild

[milkywayes]

this is so clearly a bad faith comment, but all right, i'll say something about those "notes" you brought up

ME1 - the game where Shepard herself consistently says "wildly racist" (by your standards, apparently) (i think the actual word you're looking for here is xenophobic) things to the aliens around her as she tries to find out more about them, on account of not having all the details. if you think garrus saying that the prejudice of the other species towards quarians is rooted in them being nomads (correct, in part) and squabbling with wrex about a war both their people faught where wrex' people were the aggressors (i don't recall any discussion of the genophage itself) is "wildly" anything, i do think you're just looking for something to be mad about. was it insensitive of him to say? yeah. in bad taste? probably. but very clearly, what both these conversations were meant to show to the player is that these are characters from very different backgrounds learning to work together and to coexist for the first time. you clearly see this thread in All his elevator conversations — he's asking his new companions about their lives, getting their perspectives, expanding his world view. he is not subtle or smooth about it, hence the friction. you're just choosing to focus on the dynamics where there's understandably the most friction, the biggest adjustment, as an excuse to call him a horrible person or whatever, completely missing the context of these conversations which are a stepping stone to friendship and coexistence and mutual understanding.

i find ME3 even funnier, considering he is actually upset about the bomb's existence (heard in mission dialogue if you bring him and james). was it brilliant strategy anyway? yes. and that's exactly what this post is about. he makes these statements that state the truth without stopping to put feel-better disclaimers around them. he understands why turians from hundreds of years ago installed that bomb, but that does in no way mean that he would have done it himself or thinks it was the right thing to do, which you can tell if you hear all his mission dialogue. similarly with the genophage cure - is it truly so wild for him say to a close confidante that he'd consider getting substantial military aid in a war where they need all the help they can get over a cure that might result in a second war immediately after in case the krogan revolt again and wrex can't stop it? these concerns are well-founded. that doesn't mean he wouldn't have moral or ethical concerns about that decision — this is a war tactician talking. detached assessment. which again, is what this post is about.

i, for one, truly appreciate a character who can say what's on his mind and make clear assessments regardless of social niceties while still caring about other people and facing significant moral and ethical dilemmas that he works through and grows from. he is not cold, and he is not "wildly racist" in any way i'd interpret that term. and he pisses people off. thanks for illustrating my point i guess

garrus is my favorite because he pisses people off so badly. watching let’s players on yt grimace when he voices an opinion. the thing is, he always has a point. a good point, even. it’s just that he looks at stuff from angles that others don’t allow themselves to do. less performative compassion for others than they’re comfortable with... doesn’t mean he’s wrong, per se, and for a paragon shepard it’s often exactly what’s needed to balance things out. also doesn’t mean that he’s not a compassionate person - he does show that side of himself when he worries about orphans, when he gets so angry at criminals, when he comforts shepard, when he laments about ruthless calculus. but it’s balanced with enough detachedness and blunt honesty that it makes people very uncomfortable. i just think it makes him fascinating. he defies categorization in that way. it would be so simple to say he’s just a bad person, but that’s a shallow and reactive reading of him and his motivations. what makes a good person and what makes a bad one is also highly subjective. people who are uncomfortable with him love to trim down his edges to better fit what they think is acceptable and that’s a shame. he says he doesn’t know what to do with gray, but he’s firmly in the gray himself. there’s a kind of poetry to it. it makes writing him very entertaining

[linderosse]

For me, Link and Zelda from the Skyward Sword story are my favorite versions, I really like this kind of doomed love, but I always felt that Zelda's character had more room to develop. Like, can she remember her past memories of being a goddess? Does she feel guilty for taking advantage of Link? Will she be able to get along with the rest of her companions as she once did when she returns to Skyloft? or will her people begin to worship her as a true god? And Link, what would he think?

This is a very, very good question!!!

I’ve been saving it in my inbox for quite a while— but now I finally get to answer it.

Sun is a complex character for sure.

She’s Hylia reborn; the incarnation of the goddess who fought the first Imprisoning War. She remembers most of it— the war, and how it ended. But like she says in the game, she’s also still herself; still sunshine and clouds and freedom and sass; still the same Zelda that Sky fell in love with. She is both at once, and that kind of contradiction has the potential to weigh someone down.

Fortunately, Sun in Wisdomverse has had a lot of time since her adventure to figure out how she feels about her new/old identity. She’s long since made peace with that duality, and is comfortable being both Hylia and Zelda.

However, various others across the eras may react to her differently because of her identity as the goddess Hylia.

Let’s go over them!

(Warning: This is pretty long, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Enjoy!

And don’t worry, there’s a tl;dr at the end for the folks who want it. :)

The people of Skyloft

I’d say most everyone is now aware that Sun is Hylia reborn. Some of the townsfolk do revere her as a goddess, but others treat her mostly the same. Sun usually prefers that, since it can be difficult to form connections when people put you on a pedestal. Her closest friends know that, and hang out with her as normal.

Sun also makes an effort to be a leader as well as a goddess. Her status as an incarnation of Hylia gives her an advantage, but she still has to work to earn people’s trust— especially with a proposition as bold as moving to the world below. Right now, she’s focused on building a life for her people on the surface. More on that in Wisdomverse :).

Wild

This is also why, in the Wild|Sun comic, Sun refers to the past actions of the goddess in third person. Wild knows that Sun’s the reincarnation of Hylia (in TotK, the goddess statues’ voice will remind him of her). But Sun doesn’t want to remind him of that at the moment; doesn’t want her identity as the goddess to put distance between them.

Still, when Sun speaks, she does so with the authority of Hylia herself. She can truly attest to Hylia’s faith in the heroes who share the spirit of the man she loves. Wild knows that, and appreciates the reassurance.

Sky

Sky has long since forgiven Sun for “using him.” He doesn’t regret the adversity he faced, and he would do it again in a heartbeat. Sun was always a goddess to him.

But Sun hasn’t fully forgiven herself for Hylia’s plan; for leveraging Sky’s emotions to get what she needed and save the world. She reckons a fragment of that guilt will always be lodged in her soul.

Flora

Wild is at least mildly religious, but Flora is not. Flora believes that the goddess existed, of course, but she no longer prays to her, and prefers to live life on her own terms.

Flora hasn’t yet worked out what to think of Sun as a goddess, now that they’ve met. They’re friends, and they still hang out, but that internal tension still pulls at Flora— the question of “For all those years, why didn’t you help me?” Wild privately thinks that the goddess tried; and was able to help Flora release her abilities when it mattered most. But that isn’t enough for Flora. Flora has currently compartmentalized it— treating Sun and Hylia as two different people. Eventually, though, Flora will need to search for answers: with Sun, and within herself. Sun does not know that Flora feels this way.

Wild again

For that matter, it was probably really strange for Wild, the first time he met Sun. Kind of like if a mildly religious modern Christian got to have a chat and go skydiving with Jesus. I’m not Christian, but I am religious, so I can imagine how weird but potentially cool that might be.

This is actually a thing for a lot of Links and Zeldas in Wisdomverse/LU; many of them get to meet their heroes. Dawn meeting Fable for the first time probably felt something like an American meeting George Washington— same thing with Hyrule and Legend, or Legend and Four.

Of course, there’s a bit of tension there for some of the other pairs, due to relevant events. It’ll be fun exploring that when the time comes— in both The Secrets We Keep, and in Wielders of Wisdom :).

Tl;dr:

In short, it’s clear that Sun remembers.

In Wisdomverse, she has access to some of the memories and a portion of the powers she did as Hylia (like the sealing ability she used in Wielders of Wisdom Ch1), but she prefers people to treat her as Zelda most of the time.

Sky has forgiven her for using him, but Sun hasn’t forgiven herself. Wild thinks she’s cool, and Flora has a bit of repressed frustration about her. The people of Skyloft appreciate her, but still wouldn’t blindly follow what she says.

Sun is both Hylia and herself at once, and comfortable in that identity.

She’s one person— she’s Zelda— and that’s enough for her :).

Masterpost

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Hello!

U don’t have to write this but I was wondering if u could do a a one shot for Ridoc where he and reader are in a situationship that no one knows about but then he almost sees them die so his funny demeanour slips away and he’s worried about them.

And everyone around him is taken a back by how serious he is. This could be angsty, hurt/comfort or fluffy, truly up to u!

What We Never Said | Ridoc Gamlyn

Summary: You kept things casual because it was easier, but in the aftermath of a battle you’re forced to confront deeper feelings when someone almost doesn’t make it back

Pairing: Ridoc Gamlyn x Reader

Warnings: angst followed by fluff, violence, near death experience, emotional distress, fear, descriptions of blood and battle injuries, emotional vulnerability, gn!reader (I think I kept it pretty neutral)

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

You and Ridoc aren’t anything official. 

In the shadows of the mess hall, beneath cluttered tables, your fingers dance dangerously close, brushing against each other like whispered secrets. The late-night visits have become an unspoken ritual, and every shared laugh and fleeting touch is a game you both play—until the sun rises, and he’s just another cocky cadet among the ranks. You roll your eyes at his teasing, feign indifference when he flirts with others, all while you pretend your heart isn’t racing every time he calls you “hotshot.” 

As a Rider in the Riders Quadrant, feelings are traps, emotions a liability. You’ve learned that the hard way. Better to keep things light, to keep him at arm’s length. But today is different. 

When the attack hits, it comes like a thunderclap, swift and brutal. The chaos swells around you—screams cutting through the air like jagged blades, magic crackling in the sky above. Orders are lost in the wind, and before you know it, you’re separated from Ridoc, fighting for breath and survival.

You dodge one strike, parry another, adrenaline surging. But then a flash of pain slices through your side—a sharp sting just under your ribs. It’s not deep, but it’s enough to slow you down, enough to leave you vulnerable. A third strike comes, but it never lands. 

Ridoc is there, a blur of motion, and suddenly the attacker crumples before you, a blade protruding from his chest. The ground rushes up to meet you, and you barely catch yourself, blood pooling beneath you, hot and heavy.

“Hey—hey, look at me,” Ridoc’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and urgent. He’s kneeling beside you, his eyes wild, face streaked with blood. You try to joke, to ease the tension, but the words stick in your throat. 

His expression is foreign—no smugness, no lazy charm, just raw fear and desperation. In that moment, beneath the weight of chaos, everything shifts. You realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as safe as you thought. And maybe this time, keeping it light won’t be enough to protect either of you.

He presses a hand to your side, his palm warm against the cold, slick surface of your skin. The moment he pulls back, his fingers glisten with crimson, and a curse slips through his lips, raw and panicked. “No, no, no. Not like this. Don’t you fucking dare.” The urgency in his voice is a desperate plea.

“Ridoc…” you manage, the word scraping against your throat like shattered glass. Your vision flickers at the edges. 

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he insists, urgency lacing his tone. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” His voice is a lifeline, tethering you to the moment as he tears the edge of his shirt and presses it against your wound, hands trembling slightly.

You blink in disbelief. “Are you—serious?”

He lets out a humorless laugh, a sound tinged with disbelief and desperation. “Of course I’m serious. You think I’m gonna let you bleed out just so I can find someone else to flirt with? Get over yourself.” 

You almost laugh at his stubbornness. Almost. But the world begins to tilt, shadows creeping in from the corners of your sight, dulling the edges of reality.

“Stay awake,” he commands, his voice firm, as if it alone can keep you from slipping away. One hand cradles your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gesture that feels impossibly tender. “I swear to Malek, if you die, I’ll—I’ll kill you myself.”

A weak breath escapes your lips, a feeble attempt at humor. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s rich, coming from the person who thought they could solo two venin while I was distracted.” His voice rises, a mix of exasperation and fear.

“Was—holding the line.”

“Yeah? Well, next time let the line bend a little, alright? I can’t—” His voice cracks. “I can’t lose you.”

And just then the others arrive. Violet. Imogen. Sloane. A few riders whose faces blur in your vision, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm. They stop mid-step, eyes darting to Ridoc on his knees, bloodied and frantic, both hands pressed to your body as if he could somehow force life back into you. 

His head snaps up, eyes blazing with a fierce determination that sets them apart from the chaos surrounding you. “Help!” He roars. “Please!”

Everyone freezes in the charged air of the battlefield, the aftermath of chaos hanging heavy like a shroud. Ridoc Gamlyn, the same guy who once faked his own death during a spar just to avoid extra drills, now stands like a tower of unwavering authority. His usual smirks and playful jests are replaced by a fierce, raw intensity. The wild panic in his eyes reflects the urgency of the moment as he barks orders with the weight of a commander leading troops into battle.

Imogen opens her mouth, a frown creasing her brow, but Violet is quicker. “Okay,” she says, her voice steady despite the turmoil, already rummaging through her pack for a bandage kit. Her movements are swift, practiced, yet her eyes betray the gravity of the situation. She exchanges a wide-eyed glance with Sloane who mumbles something under her breath about the world ending.

But Ridoc’s focus never falters. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, unwavering and fierce, as if you are the only thing that exists in this moment of turmoil. With a faint squeeze, you grasp his hand. His eyes flicker down to yours, wide with concern, as if he’s drinking in the sight of you, grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispers, the words laced with a raw vulnerability that cuts through the adrenaline haze. “And I’m not easy to scare.”

A smile flickers on your lips, barely escaping. “Gonna kiss me in front of the whole squad now?”

He huffs out a sound that could almost be a laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “If you ever pull something that reckless again, I’ll do more than kiss you. I’ll chain you to the barracks wall.”

“That’s... hot,” you mumble, a playful challenge threaded through the pain.

His eyes narrow and then, he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours—not in a kiss, nor as a grand declaration, but as a gentle touch. It’s steady, grounding, a silent promise in the storm of chaos.

As the world begins to fade into darkness around you, you surrender to the sound of his voice, whispering your name like a prayer, a plea he refuses to let go unanswered.

When you wake up, your ribs ache, each pulse echoing through your body with an unsettling insistence. Your head feels heavy, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton, muffling the world around you. You groan softly, the sound barely escaping your lips as you blink against the dim magelights of your room, their glow casting a warm, flickering hue across the stone walls.

“Hey.”

The voice is low, not quite steady, breaking the stillness that envelops the room. You turn your head, the movement slow and deliberate, and there he is—Ridoc. He’s sitting beside your bed, his legs spread wide in a casual yet protective stance, elbows braced on his knees as if he’s anchored himself to the earth beneath him. His hair’s a wild tangle, strands falling across his forehead in a way that makes him look both rugged and vulnerable. 

A bloodstain, dark and dried, clings to the collar of his shirt, a stark reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. A long cut runs along his temple, an unfinished bandage hinting at the frantic attempts to heal him amidst the turmoil. His eyes lock onto yours the moment you move, a storm of relief and tension swirling in their depths.

He breathes, the words escaping him in a rush, and he slumps forward, the weight of his body visibly lifting as if he’s been holding himself upright through sheer force of will. “You’re awake.”

You give him a dry look, the corners of your mouth twitching despite the pain. “No, I’m dead and haunting you.”

He huffed a laugh. There’s no teasing behind it, just that same rawness you saw before you passed out. It’s softened now, less panic and more exhaustion, but the intensity lingers, real and palpable.

“Your heart stopped for a minute,” he says after a beat, the confession rolling off his tongue like a heavy stone. “Just enough to make me question every decision I’ve ever made, so… thanks for that.”

You blink, processing his words. “I died?”

“You paused. Briefly.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing both hands over his face, a gesture laden with fatigue. “And I stopped breathing, so we’re even.”

You let silence fall for a moment, watching him, the weight of unspoken words thickening the air between you. “You stayed?” you ask quietly, and his gaze drops, the casual bravado slipping further away. 

Ridoc lowers his hands and shrugs, but it’s hollow. “They couldn’t get me to leave. Violet tried. Then Imogen threatened me. I told her she could duel me if she wanted to drag me out.”

You smile faintly, a flicker of warmth igniting in your chest. “She didn’t?”

“She knows she’d lose.”

There it is—a flash of the usual Ridoc, the cocky one with a permanent smirk and a one-liner locked and loaded. But as quickly as it appears, it fades, swallowed by the shadows of concern that still linger in his eyes.

He leans forward again, fingers curling loosely in the blanket near your side, the fabric soft but heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. The air crackles with tension, a delicate balance of hope and fear swirling around you both. 

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” he says, his voice dipping to a gravelly whisper, as if the weight of his confession might shatter the fragile tranquility of the moment. “Until I saw your blood. Until I thought… fuck. That I wouldn’t get another one of those stupid little smirks you do when you win an argument.”

You search his face, looking for the familiar spark of mischief that usually accompanies his words, but instead, you find a storm brewing in his eyes, dark clouds of concern battling against the remnants of cocky bravado. “You weren’t supposed to care this much,” you manage, your voice barely more than a breath, laced with disbelief.

“I know,” he replies, a rough exhalation escaping him.

“We said—”

“I know.” His gaze pierces through you, holding yours with an intensity that feels both suffocating and liberating. “We were keeping it light. No strings. No risk. But somewhere between sneaking around and pretending not to look at you, I started memorizing the sound of your laugh and counting your footsteps when you came down the hall.”

Your heart flips, a dizzying sensation that morphs into an ache, reverberating through your chest with each pulse. “Ridoc…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off gently, as if the truth itself is a fragile thing that could splinter under the weight of scrutiny. “I know we didn’t say it out loud. But I need you to hear it now. I care. I care so much it makes me reckless.” 

The rawness of his admission hangs in the air, thick and palpable, like the charged silence before a storm. You stare at him, grappling with the vulnerability laid bare before you. His features are chiseled by tension and illuminated by the flickering glow of the magelights, casting shadows that dance across his face, creating an ethereal quality to the moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, a release of pent-up fear. “If you don’t want that—if it’s too much—just say so. I’ll back off. Go back to being the sarcastic asshole who barely looks your way. But if you do—if there’s any part of you that wants to stop pretending this doesn’t matter—tell me now.”

A lump forms in your throat, heavy and unyielding, as you process the gravity of his words. The walls you’ve built around yourself start to crumble, brick by brick, leaving you exposed in a way you never anticipated.

You reach out, your fingers trembling as they seek his, moving slow and deliberate, a silent question lingering in the space between you. When you finally make contact, he stills, as if even this small touch might shatter him.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you whisper, each word a fragile thread that binds your hearts closer together. “I want this. Whatever this is.”

Ridoc doesn’t respond with words; instead, he shifts forward with a gentleness that belies the storm raging inside him. He presses a kiss to your forehead and it’s so painfully careful, so tender, it makes your eyes sting with unspent tears.

When he pulls back, his voice is thick with emotion, roughened by vulnerability. “You’re not getting rid of me now, you know.”

You smile, a genuine spark igniting in your chest. “Good. I like having you around.”

And in that moment, the barriers that once separated you begin to dissolve. He finally lets his fingers lace with yours properly, intertwining like the roots of two trees growing side by side, unyielding in the face of the storm. 

This time, there’s no one to hide from. No reason to pretend. Just him. Just you. And something real, at last. 

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo

[regency-monster-love]

Grumpy orc and sunshine human, part 12

Male orc x female human | Regency era | SFW but references to sex, racism, and injury

Master list for this fic

Chapter starts immediately after part 11. Garek and Esther just fucked in an empty countryside chapel.

~ 😈🎩 ~

While cleaning themselves up, Garek remarked that it was lucky that the wet spots of his seed on their clothing would simply blend in with all the other water spots from the rain, and Esther started to feel that little trickle of unease that came now every time he talked about hiding their relationship.

Garek peeked out the door. “It's stopped raining. Good. We have to get you to my house for a bath quickly.”

Nausea started to swirl in her belly. “To get your scent off me?”

“Yes.”

“And you'll do the same to get my scent off you?”

“Of course.”

“Garek, are you ashamed of me?”

The orc jerked as if struck. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us. Not just the sex—you never spend time with me openly; never once have you called on me at my house.”

His face contorted in a mix of confusion, anger, and disgust. “That’s what you wanted, so your suitor wouldn’t find out.” He spoke the word “suitor” like it tasted bad.

“What on earth are you talking about? What suitor?”

“You have more than one now?” he snarled.

“My God, what kind of person do you think I am? There's no one but you!”

“Don't lie to me. The first time I walked you home, you said some other man was courting you and you wanted that.”

Esther stared at him silently for several breaths as she worked through what Garek was referring to, and as she realized what he meant, was nearly dumbstruck by the enormity of Garek’s misunderstanding and twisting of her words.

“First of all,” she said with calm precision, “what I said was that I thought one person might be courting me, and that I wasn't opposed to it. Secondly, I was talking about you, Garek.”

Now it was Garek’s turn to stare while he tried to make sense of things. “The suitor was—me? From the start?”

“Yes, you simpleton.”

“Then why didn't you say so outright?”

“I was smiling right at your face when I said what I did, and I let you ravish me immediately afterwards—I was very clear it was you.”

He shook his head. “No, I'm certain you didn't say ‘you,’ you said ‘he,’ like it was some other person.”

“I was being playful with my manner of speaking! It was obvious what I meant!”

“Obviously it wasn't!”

Esther released her breath in a frustrated sort of huff. “Sakes alive—did you ever see me close with any other males, Garek? Smell any other males on me?”

“No,” he growled.

“Shouldn’t that have made it obvious then?” Esther huffed out with an expectant raise of her eyebrows.

He stared back. His stomach dropped. Ohhh fuck. Fuck. Of course there was no one else. He had been such a colossal fool. He dropped his head into his hands.

“You really thought I would just lead some other suitor along while I was secretly carrying on an intimate relationship with you?” Esther asked after a moment, the hurt thick in her voice. How could he think so little of her?

Garek’s cheeks burned in shame, but he forced himself to drop his hands and look at her. “I didn’t really let myself think about it at all, not lately.” His love for her had made it too painful to think about, so he simply hadn’t, and in doing so, had missed all the obvious and logical signs of what was truly happening.

The ache in Esther’s throat had spread down into her chest, squeezing around her heart. She thought Garek was better than her former lover Frank, but it seemed like Garek had just been using her for sex after all. He hadn’t cared what it said about Esther’s character or the feelings of this other suitor as long as he was getting to use her body.

“I’m going home,” she told him, and turned toward the chapel door.

“Wait!” He grabbed her hand and stared at her with wild, desperate eyes. “I was a fool, but now I know the truth. Everything can be all right between us now.”

She pulled her hand back from him. “You can’t just say things are all right and make it so! Nothing has changed. Nothing is ever going to change with you.”

She stepped toward the door, and he grabbed for her again—she pushed him off her, just like that first time he’d kissed her, then jabbed a finger at him. “You leave me alone! I’m going!”

He obeyed. No running after her, no calling her back. He just let her go, his chest heaving as he watched her solitary figure walk quickly away from the chapel.

— — —

Four days. Four days since he had seen Esther, heard her laugh, touched her, been inside her. Four days without his mate.

Just a month ago, four days without her would have been nothing. Well, not nothing—it wouldn’t have been pleasant, but it was bearable, and nothing out of the ordinary. He would masturbate to the thought of her and be all right. Now, four days was torture.

He didn’t know if he ought to try to end it. He had made a tremendous mess of everything, and he feared that it was irreparable. Esther would probably turn down any attempt he made to reconcile—nothing is ever going to change with you, that’s what she’d told him. She’d given up on him. People are allowed to change their minds about what they want, that was another thing she’d told him once. Now he knew that she’d wanted him as a suitor from the beginning, but it seemed likely that she’d changed her mind on that now, and no longer wanted him as a suitor or a lover. But this was too horrifying a possibility to confirm. Knowing for certain that they were done would be far worse than the uncertainty he was living under now.

His mother wasn’t helping matters. She kept asking him what was wrong with him and how Miss Dayton was doing and why he was moping at home all the time. And his home smelled like Esther, especially in his bedroom, no matter how much he washed everything. 

He finally had to escape the house, and went for a walk into the village. He hadn’t gone very far when his minotaur friend came running straight down the main street at him. “Garek!” he shouted.

Garek rushed toward him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Miss Dayton!” the minotaur said, and every fiber in Garek’s body snapped into focus. “Her carriage, there was an accident, I saw them dragging it to the wheelwright’s across from my office—”

“What happened to her? Where is she?” Garek demanded.

“They said the lady inside was hurt, took her to the nearest cottage to await the surgeon—”

“Where!”

��Other side of the village, nearly to the mill—”

Garek took off running, panic making him move faster than perhaps he ever had before. He reached the row of cottages that he thought the minotaur meant and started pounding on every door, frantically asking after the human lady who was injured in a carriage accident. The third one finally told him that she had seen her taken inside the next one over, and Garek rushed to that door to hammer his fist on it. It felt like an eternity before anyone answered, though it was probably less than 10 seconds.

A female dragon opened the door, standing at least a head taller than Garek and filling its entire width with her bulk.

Garek didn’t bother with any greeting. “I need to see Miss Dayton!”

The dragon gave him a disgruntled look. “Who are you?”

“I’m her mate, now let me in,” he growled. It was the first time he had said it out loud, but he hadn’t hesitated—he wasn’t scared of that word anymore, just needed to see Esther without delay.

The dragon gestured to his right tusk. “You’ve no ring, and she’s a ‘miss.’”

“We haven’t had our ceremony yet—get out of the way,” he snarled.

But the dragon didn’t budge; Garek was furious that she was bigger than him. “Well.” She sniffed, looking him up and down. “You’re certainly acting like a mate.” From her tone, it was clear that she did not consider that a good thing. “All right, you can see her, but if she wants you to go, you go.”

She cleared out of the way, and Garek barreled right past her, not needing her to show him the way to Esther’s room—he could smell exactly where she was, and he could smell that she was unwell.

“Wait!” the dragon hissed behind him, right as he reached her door. “You can’t go barging in when she’s resting.”

“I know that,” he hissed back. “I would never hurt Esther.” Not anymore, at least.

He put his hand to the doorknob and very slowly opened it. Esther lay unconscious in a huge dragon-size bed, looking so tiny and frail it made something sharp twist painfully in his chest. Her hair was covered by a large bandage. He crept over to her side. “Esther,” he whispered.

The dragon had come in too. “Don’t touch her head or neck; the surgeon isn’t sure yet if there was any damage to her spine.” More pain stabbed through Garek’s chest at that.

After telling Garek to fetch her when Esther woke, and warning him again not to bother her, the dragon finally left them alone. Garek carefully climbed up on the bed to lay beside Esther, facing her but not touching her, except for stroking his fingers over the top of her hand that rested on the blanket.

He ached with the desire for Esther to be all right, and to be with him. He’d been such a stubborn, cowardly fool to try to deny and fight against their mating bond. If they had been mated and married, he might have been in the carriage with her and could have prevented her from getting hurt so badly, protecting her in the strong cocoon of his arms. That’s what he wanted—to be with her all the time, at her side to protect and please her, no more hiding.

Despite his fretful thoughts, he must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing he was aware of was the feel of someone petting his hair. He opened his eyes and saw Esther looking at him with a serious expression as she caressed his head.

“You’re awake!” He sat up abruptly. “I have to tell—um, I don’t know her name, actually, but the surgeon needs to see you!” He jumped out of bed.

“Wait, Garek. What happened?” Esther said in a weak voice.

He leaned over her and reached for her face, but stopped himself before touching her. “You got hurt in an accident, and they carried you here,” he said, as gently as he could, to not scare her, but it still came out rather rough, because having to speak the words “you got hurt” made him angry. “I’ll tell you more soon, but let me fetch the surgeon first.”

It was agony to wait for him, then wait all through his examination of Esther, but when he said that her spine was fine and that her head would probably be healed enough to move her in a couple days, with no lasting damage, Garek’s relief was immense. And then the surgeon and dragon left them alone again.

Esther gestured for Garek to get on the bed with her again, assuring him that the surgeon said she shouldn’t move her head much, but the rest of her was fine. She opened her arms, and Garek laid his head on her chest with a relieved sigh.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Esther told him, petting his hair again.

“You are?”

“I missed you.”

His heart twisted and throbbed. “I’m sorry, Esther. I’ve been stubborn and unkind to you from the start, and it was never because of you, it was always because of me. Me being a coward.” In the interest of not being cowardly, he sat up so he could look into her eyes as he said this. “I’m sorry I insulted humans and made you feel like I was ashamed of you. The truth is…I did feel guilty about getting intimately involved with a human. It had nothing to do with you personally, it’s just…” He huffed out a ragged sigh, wishing he could explain this better.

“Look,” he tried again. “My father wanted to be a writer when he was young, got laughed at by every human publisher he went to, until one day he found his book for sale with some human’s name slapped on it. One of those bastard publishers had stolen his manuscript and published it as his own. Father couldn’t even get the courts to take his case seriously, because they were all run by corrupt humans too. That’s how everything was for monsters back then. That’s why I only print books by monsters—because human presses rarely did it, until recently.”

Esther was looking at him teary-eyed, but she made no attempt to speak, so he just let it all keep pouring out. “My father taught me to hate humans, so I felt like I was betraying him by caring for one, even betraying myself, what I stood for. I think that’s why I stupidly didn’t understand your hint about me being your suitor: the idea of courting a human myself was just so foreign to me at the time, that it had to be someone else you meant.

“But it was never actually about you—I’ve never been ashamed of you. The only one I’m ashamed of is me. You’re perfect. I’m lucky and proud that you’re with me—or, were with me. I don’t care that you’re human, or that my father would be ashamed of me, not anymore. I was such a fool to ever think that any of that mattered. And I’m so sorry for not trusting you to be committed to one male at a time, to think that you might be involved with someone else at the same time as me. I know you’re too good for that. It made no sense.”

Esther finally spoke up. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know about what happened to your father, and in the chapel, I didn’t exactly let you explain yourself or give you a chance to try to fix things—I just stormed off. And I shouldn’t have said you can never change. That was unfair of me. I should have been more open with you about my own feelings and wants. I was a coward too, because of what happened with Frank.”

Garek shook his head fiercely. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did.”

“No.”

“Are you arguing with me about apologizing?”

He ducked his head to rub at his neck. “Sorry,” he muttered.

She huffed out a weak laugh, then winced. “I don’t think my body approves of that right now.”

“No more talking, just rest,” he declared, and laid his head back on her chest again. She immediately set about stroking his hair again, and warmth spread through him at the affectionate touch of his mate that he had been starved for.

They laid quietly together for some minutes. Then Esther asked, “How’d you convince them to let you see me?”

Garek’s heart started to race, but he wasn’t going to be a coward about this. He sat up again. “I told her that you’re my mate—which is true, Esther.” The rest of the words tumbled out of him in a rush, now that he’d said it. “You’re my mate, and I’m yours. But only if you want to be. You can reject the mating bond, it’s your choice, but, oh, Esther!” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I hope you don’t, because I love you, and I want us to be together always. Mated and married.”

Well, so much for no more talking, just rest.

She stared at him with her mouth opened, before she said, “How dare you”—his heart sunk to his stomach—“say this to me when I can't spring up and kiss you.”

Now he was the one staring at her open-mouthed. “You, you mean…”

“I love you too.”

Excitement was starting to bubble up inside him. “And you’ll marry me?”

“I will, if you’ll give me a kiss right now.”

“I don’t think I ought to, with your head…”

“Kiss me,” she said firmly, and just like every time she gave that order, he obeyed. But he tempered the wild joy rioting inside him to make it a gentle kiss, at least. No more hurting his mate, ever again.

His mate! She was really going to be his mate, completely, no more of this halfway business where only he knew and there was no ceremony. He couldn’t stop grinning. It kept making Esther laugh to see it, which hurt her head, so he finally had to hide his face in the sheets.

The smile finally got wiped off his face when he asked her to tell him what happened in the carriage, because it made him angry to picture his mate getting hurt and being scared, but he had to know. She related how they had been going around a sharp turn when a wheel came off, throwing the whole carriage onto its side, and she flew against the inside wall with quite some force when it hit the ground.

She had to pet his hair again and remind him that the surgeon said she’d be well soon to get him to stop growling in anger.

Once he was calmed down, he couldn’t resist saying, in a soft, teasing rumble, “I told you that your carriage is no good.”

Her eyes crinkled up in amusement. “You did. You were right. Though I think I agreed with you even then, you may remember. You were the one being contrary; I was being agreeable.”

He smiled and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. “Of course.”

“Now I have the opportunity to purchase a better carriage, that meets your approval.”

“Big enough for both of us?”

“Exactly.”

“But I’m not as opposed to being squeezed into a tiny carriage with you anymore.”

~ 😈🎩 ~

End of part 12 | Master list for this fic

Hooray! I tortured them some more, but they finally got everything in the open for their happily ever after!

One more chapter—spicy of course—and then their story is finished!

Art of them coming soon, too!

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing or my master list.

Taglist: @apuddleonthelivingroomfloor, @slightly-knot-insane, @99goosebumps, @decaffeinatedtreewitch, @curiousmons, @cinnabbxx, @dreamerl0v3, @iamsamuraisword, @flippinsweettots, @not-nana-ly, @eclaire-and-pocky, @iluvzayne, @blushycadaver, @vurelliex, @graveblanketgreen, @xxfeelmylovexx (comment if you want to be added to the list)

[scandistar]

Lin was more than certain that Rolan felt differently about her after she had nearly killed him.

(This is mostly speculative, as I don't have a concrete plan for the fic yet. Might implement this, though)

Rolan had thrown the man out of the Sundries, but instead of staying frozen in fear, Lin rushed out after the intruder, now bearing both her handaxes. She was prepared to kill him once and for all - he would no longer be alive to hurt anyone like he once hurt her. Like he once broke her. Her mind and spirit were forever changed by what he had done to her, but unlike last time, she won't be the one running from him.

She could see only red as she rushed down the Lower City alleys, hoping to catch up to him, but she lost him in the nightly dark. She was frantic, livid, unable to think straight as her body was as tight as a coil spring.

But he was gone. He had vanished into the ebony, and in her wild mind, she couldn't recall if she had even gone in the same direction.

There's an overpowering clamour roaring in her head, of the pulse in her neck and the beating of her own heart. It sounds like screaming, like her own screaming.

She's terrified.

So she acted before she could think.

There was a noise, a sequence of footsteps closing in, she hadn't registered behind the murmur in her ears.

"It's him. He's here. He thinks he can ambush me, but he cannot," she thought and spat out her frustration in a cutting yell as she swung an axe at his neck. Swiftly, in the blink of an eye, she gave him not a second to react as she spun around and-

Stopped. Immediately. She snapped right out of her hysteria.

It wasn't him.

It was the complete opposite.

That burning glow of those yellow starburst eyes made her feel nothing but a safety she never knew existed, but as soon as she caught up, that feeling of safety shattered and burst under the weight of distraught.

The sharp edge of her axe was only inches away from his neck, and she could feel her heart stop, then spill into her guts in ice-cold chunks.

He didn't have the chance to blink before she dropped her weapons and tripped back in horror. The steel of her axes clashed rantingly against the cobbled street as her back fell against a wall, face burrowed into her trembling hands.

"Oh my gods-" she whispered in a breath. "I-I can't believe I just did that-I-I..."

The wizard was none the wiser about what to think. He felt a cold horror running down where the iron nearly split his head off, and every muscle in his body shrieked. There truly was not a second for him to defend himself. No brief gap for him to cast a spell. One moment, he was running up to her, and the next, she stood facing him with a pin-piercing glare that melted as soon as it appeared.

She could've killed him in less than an instant, but she caught herself even faster.

He didn't know who he was looking at in that moment, but against his better judgment, he still urged her to get out of the dark and return to the shop. Whatever he felt could wait, as for once in his life, he had nothing to say. He was too proud to admit it, but he felt shocked. Of course he did; there had almost been an attempt on his life. By the woman who had saved it too many times over, no less.

How was he supposed to make sense of that?

The only thing clear to him then was that she was horrified too, and devastated. She was breathing out apology after apology, while refusing to look at him. He was fine with that; he wasn't certain what he would feel if he looked at her after what just happened.

He hadn’t thought about it before; it was always directed towards their enemies, but Lin is capable of incredible violence, and she’s far more than a little dangerous. She has made it abundantly clear to him in the way she reacted that she doesn’t mean to be, that it is only instinct, but it doesn't shake the unease.

He won't let her go. He can still tell she means too much to him, but there will be precautions from now on.

[numberonetacostan]

HELLOOOOOO it is i, the one, the only, NORIIIII!!!! :DDD

hope your day is going well, cause mine ehhhu wasnt really, lol. It got better though! (shoutout to my gf for making me feel better on vr, luv u elliot)

i am here to request the usual, Tacopad headcanons!

and also a little bonus request, Tacopickle headcanons!! (bc I might have a little obsession w them, don’t worry tacopad is still special to me🥹)

And that’s all!! make them angsty all you want, I just want my precious headcanons🥹🥹🥹(and i LIVE for any angst in a taco ship sooo :3), make sure to add a bit of fluff so I don’t cause some people to have mental breakdowns😓😓😓

check out my birb

-nori🦜

Hi Nori!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in your request and birdy! :]

Pickle, after The Incident, ends up pretty reliant on melatonin to help him get to sleep. And of course, post s2 finale, there is no melatonin around. So, he doesn't sleep very well for a good while, yeah? Taco notices that he isn't sleeping much, gathers that he needs a sleep aid pretty quickly, feels absolutely horrible about it, and then goes off and gathers some wild berries she knows are safe to eat but can help with sleep (Montmorency Cherries, for example). She doesn't give them to him directly, since she assumes he won't want them if she tries to offer them herself, so would probably give them to Mic or Knife to give to him, eating some in front of them so they know she isn't trying anything malicious (though this would apply more to Knife than Mic).

You ever think that maybe Pickle would ever look at Taco and Mic, or even Taco in Mepad if you want to live in the beautiful timeline in which he survived, and feels a bit resentful? Maybe a little jealous? That Taco was willing to change for them, apologize sooner, put genuine effort in to communicating with them? And wonder why he wasn't enough. Why he didn't bring change in her like they did? What they had done that he hadn't? Do you ever think about that? I do.

Speaking of Mepad, one time when Taco was feeling down, he tried to put on some music to help soothe her. Unfortunately he unironically picked some sad violin music, that Taco fortunately found so cartoonish for the moment that she started laughing and was no longer sad. Mepad isn't really sure what he did but he's happy that she's happy. He loves her laugh <3.

Though I do usually think Taco would be the scary one in their relationship, Mepad is very much capable of intimidation when he really wants to intimidate. This mostly comes in the form of Taco painfully doing her best to socialize normally, and Mepad standing behind her with an Expectant look. If you don't socialize with Taco and be friendly to her while she's Doing Her Best and Practicing social interaction, then Mepad will be Disappointed In You. Truly a horrible fate.

I like to think that, in the beginning, it's hard for Taco to look at Mepad for all that long. She's homeless! Lives in the woods! She is not used to looking at screens, much less screens as big as Mepad's face. She'd need to take some of those little vision breaks so she doesn't get headaches. Mepad would try and turn his brightness down to help her eyes adjust, as well.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Not sure how widely recognized this is but it’s fucking wild to me that miss kui just quietly snuck in the fact that most (if not all) of the differences between races only exist because of wishes they made to the Winged Lion.

Dwarves being strong? Lion wish. Elves being good at magic? Lion wish. All lifespan differences???? Lion wish, babey!

Not that the elves superiority shtick isn’t already BS, but it’s even funnier with the context that the only difference between them and humans is that, thousands of years ago, their leaders made a greedier wish to the demon that wanted to eat them.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[quicksilversnails]

Took some notes from the Wild Life retrospective episode of the Imp & Skizz podcast featuring Grian because I thought the behind the scenes info was really interesting!

(3:15) The wild cards were all kept totally secret from the players (apart from Grian), with the exception of the superpowers and finale (as they required the players to set keybinds)

(3:45) The players were given files containing the required mods each week, which were named things like "creeper rain" to throw them off

(4:12) Wild cards were a combination of data packs and mods

(4:38) Grian told them not to read the folder name to avoid spoilers (which is kind of impossible), so everyone fully believed there would be creeper rain lol. Grian was saying it in jest but everyone took it seriously and were apologetic about having seen it, to which Grian told them not to worry

(6:58) Grian originally contacted a data pack dev called Brace for help with programming the wild cards. Some, like the shrinking/growing could be achieved with minecraft attributes, but the snails were too janky and unusable. Grian still liked the idea though, so he reached out to mod developers Henkelmax and Breadloaf, who designed the pathfinding/behaviour from scratch

(8:49) They had a debugging mode used to test the pathfinding of the snails, shown in the podcast and in Grian's credits

(10:09) Grian wants most of the credit to go to the development team and artists, as he was mostly in charge of ideas & organization!

(10:39) Grian's only regret with the snails was that they were too fast in session 3, leading to unexpectedly many deaths. They were apparently not so difficult to get away from during testing, but perhaps the testers were more used to them than the players were

(11:44) Grian: "We did develop to the lowest common denominator" ie. prioritizing how players would struggle over how worrying about if players would do too well

(12:56) Oli's voice for the snails was iconic. It cost Impulse a life because he intentionally stayed closer to it to hear the voice lol

(13:42) Danny was in charge of the snail models and animations

(14:11) During testing, the snails just sounded like Oli, which made it feel weird. They pitched up his voice so that it'd be less immediately recognizable

(15:18) The snails' jumping attack was meant to be clearly telegraphed: they would stop, wiggle, make a "ooeee" sound before jumping. Many players had their friendly creatures volume turned very low/off (as cows and other mobs are loud), which made this attack much less obvious for them

(16:57) The growing/shrinking had the least testing done for it, as it was the simplest conceptually and to program. This meant that the falling off of blocks due to the shrinking hitboxes wasn't anticipated

(17:55) Before the 1st session, Grian told them that he didn't think anyone would die to the wild card. Pearl's death made Grian pretty nervous, as he didn't want everyone dying too early in the season

(19:29) 6 lives were given, knowing that many of the death to the wild cards were unexpected/unfair. The intent was for ~3 lives to be allocated for wild cards, and ~3 for PvP.

(21:13) The developers were all fans of the Life Series!

(22:43) The shrinking/growing was intentionally pretty simple to ease players/viewers into the concept and build up toward more dramatic wild cards like the snails

(25:38) In the hunger episode, Grian didn't know which foods would be good

(25:58) Grian thinks that "it's unfair that Grian already knows everything" is valid criticism, but that it's important for him to be involved with the ideas. Having someone else do that is like having someone else record his videos: Life Series is his brainchild

(26:35) Well before the season began, while they were still developing the concept, Grian asked the other players for wild card ideas that would meet a few criteria. All of them ended up being unused for one reason or another. Impulse thinks his ideas were very "inside the box" because he was viewing things through what was possible in vanilla Minecraft. His idea was to have a scavenger hunt where the players would search to find a relic. The first person to find it would get a buff. Skizz's idea was for every player to turn into a random passive mob for every given interval of time. They would have to find every other player of the same mob type as them or else the whole group loses a life.

(29:44) The food qualities were weighted by the rarity of the item, so very common blocks like dirt and cobblestone would never give anything good. The other items were randomly selected

(30:23) Regular blocks/items cannot be made edible normally, so they had to circumvent that and custom code a fix for items not stacking correctly

(32:41) While a lot of players do want to win, the main priority is creating entertainment, which prioritizes playing recklessly

(33:20) The food wild card wasn't included in the finale because it would've felt like "too much". There was a higher risk of technical issues since it changed the data values of items, and Grian didn't want someone's last death to be because they ate their sword. In his mind, it was a good and fun wild card, but didn't need to be repeated in the finale. Impulse points out that they all would have collected more rare items by that point, removing the incentive to search for blocks to eat

(33:46) The wild cards in the finale were nerfed from their original sessions. The shrinking/growing had a smaller height range, the snails moved slower, etc.

(36:21) The personalized snail skins were a late addition by Danny, who made 18 skins very quickly

(36:49) Grian did not anticipate the snails becoming as popular with fans as they were. After the session released, they had the idea to release the snail merchandise, which directly funded the rest of the season

(39:20) Grian spent what "felt like every day" testing with the developers. They'd record the sessions on Tuesdays, meet up with the dev team, talk about what need to be done, testing, bugs, etc, edit and upload on Saturday, and would get a few days grace before starting again

(40:01) After the snail session, Grian was worried that the season would be very short due to all the deaths. They were considering toning down the later wild cards but ultimately didn't change them too much

(40:36) The time wild card was carefully balanced. If it had gone even a little faster, many players likely would have died because they wouldn't have time to react to threats like baby zombies or creepers.

(40:57) While sessions normally run for a variable amount of time, session 4 was hardcoded at 2 hours. Grian ended the session ~10 minutes early, just after they hit max speed, because he felt like things were getting dicey

(42:46) When the wild card first activates, it looks a lot like the server had frozen or crashed. Grian told the players before the session started that it would look like the game was broken, but that it isn't broken. Skizz tabbed out anyway and missed the beginning 😔

(43:30) Having the rain start just as the wild card began was a good visual indicator of time slowing down. This was a suggestion from the dev team (probably Brace)

(44:41) Impulse and Grian "cheesed" the end of the session by going branch mining. Grian wanted players to take advantage of the wild cards (eg. mining quickly, helping to kill someone), and not have them just be an annoyance.

(45:30) Keeping the client and server-side time stay in sync was challenging. The sky's motion was changed to be smoother on client-side. The players were also not as fast as the server (around 2x faster), the server was going faster than that, and the time of day was even faster

(46:56) The sounds were pitched up/down based on the speed to add to the effect

(27:46) In testing, if the players were made 7x faster, it would be basically unplayable, which was why it was capped at 2x speed. This made mobs very dangerous, as they were now faster than players and could catch up to you and kill you easily

(49:01) On several occasions, they had to extend the fuse duration of creepers to make them more fair. In the time session, their speed was only increased by ~10%

(49:39) Usually, Grian was the one to test the wild cards and notice when things like creeper speed would be an issue, since he was the one with experience making videos

(50:50) A challenge with balancing wild cards is accounting for the playstyles of so many players: reckless players like Scar and Skizz, "kind and gentle" players like Bigb who would stay off to the sides, and "the sweat squad" (Scott, Impulse) who play very cautiously

(52:48) Trivia Bot was the only wild card that was not planned in advance. Grian was struggling to come up with a wild card for that episode, and wanted to have a wild card available that could give people lives in case many people died to early wild cards without it feeling cheap.

(53:33) Trivia seemed a little boring on its face, so presentation was essential

(54:34) This one made Grian the most stressed due to all the moving parts involved in making it (coding and pathfinding mostly by Henkelmax, visuals by Hoffen, audio/music, questions)

(55:08) Trivia Bot's design was based on Grumbot and Mettaton from Undertale. Hoffen drew concept art shown in the video

(58:32) They show Trivia Bot's custom animation for becoming a snail and it's really cool

(59:12) The music was the most stressful part of the project. Grian spent 2-3 days looking through Epidemic Sounds for a Trivia Bot theme song and couldn't find anything good. He commissioned Zera @hopepetal for a theme song, which is played in the podcast. However, Grian realized he needed a full audio package, so he commissioned Oli late in development, who created the final soundtrack and many audio variations

(1:01:38) Grian wants to send appreciation for everyone who worked on the project, even if their work ultimately went unused

(1:02:58) Skizz was happy to give back however he could by staying on standby in the final episode as a zombie, as the players were able to "reap all the benefits" of the hard work of the development team

(1:05:21) Grian didn't know any of the trivia questions beforehand, which were done by fans of the series. The goal was for ~50% of the questions to be answered correctly, which was approximately met

(1:07:11) Players couldn't get questions about themselves because it would be too easy. This would encourage players to leave their bot, allowing other players to mess with them

(1:07:57) Grian felt a little left out from the discovery element of the wild cards, and decided to mess with Scar by hiding his bot. He wasn't expecting Scar to die from it, and could tell that he was genuinely a little upset by it. Grian felt bad about it, which led to a genuine in-game alliance between them

(1:12:32) Grian was very close to letting Trivia Bot give lives as rewards, but decided it would feel too cheap

(1:14:38) Mob swap was slightly toned down, with more camels and sniffers spawning

(1:15:07) Evokers didn't drop totems anymore. Instead, there was a minuscule chance a warden or wither would spawn, which would drop a totem if killed. Grian was a little disappointed that the warden got cheesed in the end

(1:17:45) Having the mobs start passive and turn hostile was mostly for the presentation, building anticipation, and so players could predict where mobs would spawn and react accordingly, making things feel less unfair

(1:20:32) There was no superpower made for Skizz (or Mumbo presumably)

(1:20:38) The superpowers were another late addition. There was a large design doc where Grian created all the powers, which were handed over to Henkelmax and completed over 4 days

(1:21:42) Grian avoided superpowers involving strength, that could cause someone to die easily. Most of the powers were social or movement-based, which couldn't be used for offence as easily

(1:22:25) Some powers were randomly assigned, others weren't. Impulse's was random. Cleo's, Bigb's, Lizzie's, Grian's were assigned.

(1:24:25) Grian gave himself the mimic because it could easily backfire (like in Grian's fall damage death), and because it would've been confusing for a player who wasn't aware of the other powers. They likely would've spent the episode just figuring out how everything worked and not actually using the power to its best ability

Lots of discussion about the superpowers and how they interacted in the episode itself, go watch if you're interested :)

(1:33:38) Talk on how the series "standard" rules evolved since 3rd Life. There was no keep inventory, and no restrictions on enchanting levels or potions, which created slow or unbalanced fights

(1:36:23) 3rd Life was designed to be an experimental series, which made Grian eager to improve it. For example, some people just weren't dying in 3L, leading to the boogeyman in LL, and so on

(1:37:17) The goal with the seasons isn't to one-up the previous one, but to create a different experience every time, which keeps things engaging for the creators

(1:38:31) At the end of each session, Grian would ask the group if they had fun and how they felt about the wild cards. According the Skizz, the answer was "a resounding yes"

(1:39:08) Grian had moments throughout the season where he personally felt like things didn't go well for him, and was anxious for the rest of the group's episodes. Things worked out while editing the raw footage, though. His issues were never with the wild cards themselves, but his own actions (traps not working, spending too long branch mining), but would always find funny moments in his footage

(1:43:41) Everyone in the Life Series cast genuinely likes and genuinely respects everybody else in the group. This allows them to make the show and get mad at each other, because they know it's all just in-character

(1:44:50) It'd be hard to top Wild Life in spectacle, and Grian doesn't want to start an arms race with himself. The next season could potentially be closer to 3rd Life, but Grian's not sure yet. For Grian, Wild Life was the most enjoyable

(1:45:20) Grian: "As long as people keep enjoying [the Life Series] then I'd love to keep doing it"

(1:49:35) With the finale, Grian knew how the wild cards played out the previous sessions and was able to adjust them

(1:49:56) Grian's goal was to create safe chaos where everyone knew what was happening and wouldn't die to them, which didn't go entirely to plan. The snails were 60% of their original speed and people still died

(1:51:03) Grian made a precise timeline of when each wild card would start/stop, it wasn't randomized.

(1:54:16) All the superpowers were randomized, with Bdubs' power being removed from circulation because it didn't have much use in a finale setting

(1:56:10) It was important for Grian that in the final moments, the wild cards were removed, so there were no interruptions. The timing worked out well because there were a few people left and it ended within ~10 minutes (this implies that the change wasn't based on # of players alive, as people had speculated based on Gem's death)

(1:58:48) The players all randomly switched to zombie skins throughout the session to mess with people on NameMC. Well-played :)

[chronologically-challenged]

I think that the party's communication issues can be summed up as "man, is it awkward to tell someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with them if you've only know them for a few months? Probably."

[fromtheseventhhell]

Unlocked a new piece of "Arya can't control herself' lore and, apparently, people think her ability to control herself comes from her pretending to be someone else. So it isn't Arya who has self-control, it's Arry/Weasel/Nan/etc. and that's why she wouldn't be able to control herself in KL, cause she couldn't handle being "Arya". I am fascinated by people twisting themselves into pretzels to deny Arya's capabilities, at this point it's an unhealthy compulsion 😭

[thefrogdalorian]

I think on this fine Saturday afternoon it's a good opportunity to take a breather and remember that there are really no ethical paparazzi pictures. Every single one is inherently exploitative.

Just because photos were taken on a movie set, when someone is 'working,' does not make the practice any less invasive and creepy. Imagine just going about your day, doing your job and having some weirdo snapping pictures of you to sell without your consent for others to endlessly repost online.

There are thousands of pictures of your favourite actor online already. Plenty taken with his knowledge and consent. I'd really like to see more of them on my dash, rather than the creeper shots.

And don't get me started how disseminating these pictures directly leads to people going to said sets. What starts off as admiring how good someone looks has real world implications.

No, hanging around a movie set and disrupting people doing their jobs is not harmless fun or a way to show your appreciation.

If you hang around a movie set, you are a stalker.

Don't tell me that it's okay to take your online admiration for someone offline. You may admire him but he does not, and will never, personally know you. He will never be your friend/boyfriend/daddy. He is a stranger.

The only way meeting your favourite actor is going to happen is at a convention or maaaaaybe a movie premiere if you're incredibly fortunate. You know, places they appear specifically to meet fans (or not in the case of premieres, where the purpose is to promote a movie. Which is also completely understandable if actors don't stop. You are not owed an interaction).

Of course, you cannot help it if you randomly run into someone you admire in the wild. Even then, consider that they probably won't be all too thrilled to be approached in public by a complete stranger. It's up to you to gauge the situation, but remember there is a person at the heart of all of this.

Boundaries and respect are a kindness which deserves to be extended to each and every human being regardless of their looks/talent/fame/wealth.

Fandoms blur those lines a little too often for my liking and I think just scrutinising what you're interacting with, or what behaviour you could be possibly falling down that slippery slope towards is nice to do every once in a while.

I mean no malice with this post and it is not directed at anyone in particular. It's something I cannot help but feel strongly about because I've seen this destructive cycle time and again in fandoms over the years. It's not healthy and it makes us all a little bit more disconnected from our humanity for it...

[anghraine]

Today's unhinged "good God I hate how much extreme generosity I'm expected to extend to the Peter Jackson films by people who make wildly bad faith arguments about things I like" rant:

I am very deeply tired of people insisting with zero evidence that of course the LOTR films are imperfect, but the difficulties of adapting LOTR are such that it wasn't possible for them to be better than they were—in, apparently, any respect. They just couldn't be done better, at all, because it was so hard to make something watchable at all.

This is always just like ... really? Really?? Just what prevented them from making better decisions about anything? What exactly made casting every actor of color as barely differentiated villainous hordes in the twenty-first century so necessary and unavoidable? The glamorization and vast expansions of battle scenes and insertion of "heroic" war crimes was the highest film as a medium could aspire to in the early 2000s because of what insuperable force?

What made it impossible to give Arwen a coherent character arc? The films could not have been made without the underlying assumption that most of the cast are NPCs who will only do the right thing, when they will, if prodded or manipulated or influenced by main characters? In what way is this an inevitability of adaptation or film that simply couldn't have been conceptualized differently, much less better?

There is zero explanation or justification for why any of this stuff (or the myriad other flaws) had to be that way and couldn't have been done better in any way at any point. It's just stated that the films that exist must be the best films that could have existed because they're the ones that do exist and are popular. QED.

That doesn't make any sense, though, and it doesn't convince anyone who doesn't already agree. The idea that they could not have been better in any way (including their worst quality, which again, is the extremely racist casting), that some force was preventing not only the actual filmmakers but any filmmakers that could possibly exist from doing anything better just seems patently absurd.

You can like them and respect what they did achieve without demanding that everyone buy into a baseless and irrational argument that their pop culture success means nothing about them could possibly have been done any better. Look, I was in my mid to late teens at the time. I remember the early 2000s quite well. It wasn't now, but we are not talking about an age so divorced from our own that any of these things were somehow fundamental to the media landscape.

There are ways in which the LOTR films were very good that were essential to their popularity then and now. This does not require anyone to accept that it was literally impossible for them to be better than they are or that some defense is required against every criticism of them ever.

I am not, incidentally, talking about removing Bombadil, an entirely understandable and defensible decision that the film defenders in my notes somehow always feel the need to bring up. I know that changes had to be made, that adaptation is not a word for word transcription, that it would always be a difficult text to adapt, that structurally minor elements had to go, that they are cinematically beautiful films that a lot of work and love went into. I know this. EVERYONE knows this, because for the last 20 years it's been impossible to criticize anything about them without being reminded. Their accomplishments, and their existence, do not mean that any choice made by the filmmakers must definitionally have been the right call and could not possibly have been better in any way.

[ovrarches]

ykw the whole plot of hamilton makes more sense when u realize people could not stay away from that siren of a man

[ettadunham]

sometimes i remember the hunger games and how nobody actually paid attention to what was in those books

[lanayrutower]

this keeps me up at night btw.