#and so utterly bound to the cycle

[its-rat-time-babey]

“The Artificer’s campaign has little impact on the overall story” bitch I cannot stress how much of an impact the Artificer had on the entire world. You just need to pay attention to some things.

By the time of the Artificer, Scavengers are basically in the middle of a massive golden age. They have a Chieftain (with a mark of communication (maybe Five Pebbles gave them the mark and citizen ID drone and tried to use them for something but they rebelled and found Metropolis)) with armour made from Red Centipede Scales, they have a permanent home in metropolis above the rain, they figured out how to harvest electrical scrap and broken down Rarefaction Cells from the ruins of Looks To The Moon and pieces of Five Pebbles to make electric spears and Singularity Bombs, they even have specially trained Elite Scavengers, which did exist before in the time of the Spearmaster but it’s still worth bringing them up.

Overall, Scavengers are at a golden age of invention and life in general.

And then they anger the Artificer, who slaughters countless Scavengers, kills their Chieftain and drives them out of Metropolis, locking the gate behind them.

After that, a new Chieftain is never made, armour like the chieftain once wore is never made again, Scavengers suffer a massive population loss, they can’t enter Metropolis without a Citizen ID Drone and Elite Scavengers slowly disappear as the methods used to teach them and the knowledge of how to scavenge and create electric spears and singularity bombs is lost, with the last Elite Scavengers being seen in the Hunter’s campaign, which happens next in the timeline. In other words, the Artificer literally sent Scavengers into a dark age.

It takes until the time of the SAINT for Scavengers to show real signs of recovery, now appearing in larger numbers than before. And even THEN Scavengers never do anything like they did during the time of the Artificer. The Artificer plunged Scavengers into a dark age for countless years, and they STILL haven’t recovered.

And that’s not all. According to the wiki, Scavengers are afraid of Slugpups, most likely because they remember how the last time they killed one they were hit by the full force of an angry explosive lobbing goddess of destruction that slaughtered countless members of their kind. They are afraid of Slugpups in all campaigns, even the Saint’s. So even by the time of the Saint Scavengers know not to mess with Slugpups, presumably because the last time they did so is a legend among Scavengers by that point in time.

Hell, the Artificer’s existence even explains something about the Hunter. The reason that the Hunter starts with a negative reputation among Scavengers is because they look like the fucking Artificer. Scavengers look at the Hunter and see the goddess of vengeance and destruction that they’ve only ever heard of from stories.

Both of them have red fur and a scar on one eye, and will the time gap between campaigns, there’s a good chance that only a few Scavengers that saw the Artificer in person are even alive by that point in time (without even taking into account how the Artificer murdered so many Scavengers that it’s probably rare that a Scavenger saw them and lived to tell the tale), meaning that the Artificer is probably told about in Scavenger stories and her appearance would therefore differ, leaving the most obvious details like the scar on one eye and red fur.

#rain world #rain world downpour #rain world spoilers #the artificer #scavengers #also a sort of crack headcanon: #The Artificer can’t just not ascend #they can’t become an echo or forcibly ascend either #we never see an Artificer echo in campaigns past her time #(notable because things like whether or not the Hunter ascended affects the campaigns that happen afterwards) #so my headcanon as to why that is is that the Artificer is so angry #so violent #and so utterly bound to the cycle #that instead of getting fully caught between existence and nonexistence and becoming an echo #she tips ever so slightly towards existence and ends up fully coming back from the void fluid #or at least her consciousness does #her body is understandably vaporized by the void fluid so she ends up reincarnating like a creature that died of old age #the Saint can’t forcibly ascend her either #and if they could it would take an absurd amount of karma blasts to do so #she’s just so angry that she does the impossible and keeps clawing her way back to existence #‘rip and tear until it is done’

[ssahotchnerr]

GIRL 👏🏻 DAD 👏🏻 AARON 👏🏻 learning how to do his wife’s hair so he can do baby girls hair when she’s grown

uncharted territory

YOU'RE 👏🏻 SO 👏🏻 RIGHT 👏🏻 cw; girl dad!aaron, fem!reader, some small suggestiveness, fluff <3

"can i braid your hair?"

you looked at aaron as your book dropped onto your lap, both a bit bewildered and astonished, "can you what?"

"braid your hair." the expression adorned on his face was almost troubled as he approached you, and rather shyly at that, actually.

"that's what i thought you said." your eyebrow quirked, displaying a caring and soft confusion. "why?"

"jus' something penelope said today, it made me realize that i don't know how to do hair. never had the need to learn with jack." the grumpiness on his face didn't falter, a small huff escaping him. "i know she doesn't have much of it now, but i don't want to be one of those dads who attempt to do their daughter's hair, it's a phenomenal disaster, and it looked better off before i even touched it. i refuse to send her off somewhere someday looking like she went through a windstorm."

"aaron, honey, i don't think you're capable of anything too disastrous." you teased gently, but with full reassurance.

he almost smiled, the ends of his lips tugging upwards, but evidently he wasn't fully convinced. "so can i? i need the practice, desperately."

"of course," you nodded, scooting towards the center of the bed and sitting cross-legged, aaron seated behind you.

once situated, he took your hair gingerly into his hands, "how do i..."

"you're going to want to separate it into three sections," you started, pausing to let him do so. "kinda gather it like a ponytail to get started."

"okay, that i've done before."

"yeah, you're good at that." you rolled your eyes, a faint blush tinting your cheeks and you could easily picture the smirk that was definitely plastered on aaron's face. "you good?"

"i think so."

"take the right side, and cross it over the middle section." you instructed, again giving him a small window of time to weave your hair gently. "then do the same on the left, the right section should have switched places with the middle."

"mhm." aaron hummed gently in confirmation, biting down softly onto his lip in concentration, crossing the left section over the now center.

"and just repeat down, alternating as you just did."

"that's it?"

"that's literally it."

aaron repeated the cycle, braiding with ease. "and i'm not hurting you? am i pulling-"

"no no no, you're completely fine." you reached a bit behind, your hand finding his knee and giving it a comforting squeeze. "keep going."

although it was a simple braid, his fingers nearly got tangled a few times, due to the size of said fingers and the limited, slightly tight space that came along with braiding. he also tugged your head back and forth a small amount, but you followed the direction of his gentle pulls. as he worked silently, your heart could only swell at his genuine concern and want to learn - just for your little girl.

once he reached the end of your braid, you tore off the hair tie that was conveniently around your wrist. "secure with this."

aaron was quick learner in nature; he watched you intently as you pulled your braid over your shoulder to inspect it quickly. it was a bit loose, a tad crooked, but the gist of it was there - almost perfect.

you peered behind at him, thoroughly impressed. "not bad."

"really?" aaron asked surprisingly, but with an utterly pleased expression.

"but don't get too cocky," you narrowed your eyebrows playfully, swiveling to face him. "this is the easy one to master. there's french braids, dutch, fishtail. one day she'll want one braid, maybe two the next. trust me, it's bound to get way more complicated than this."

the proud gleam in his eyes faded a bit as his face blanched, pulling into a pained expression, deadpanning. "you're kidding."

"but don't worry, we have plenty of time."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[itsswritten]

Threads of Hazel

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Angst, blood, gore, injuries, hints of death.

Summary: A mating bond can connect those who have not even met, but can it save them too?

All that welcomed you was the cold, splodges of darkness filtering in your distorted vision.

Time seemed to stretch and contract in the void, a dizzying whirl of uncertainty. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Perhaps even longer.

No one was coming.

Why had you dared to hope? 

It was that gentle hazel glow that danced behind closed eyelids that had stirred within you. A glimmer of something that felt worthy of holding onto. Something to believe in.

But it must have been a trick of the mind, a cruel illusion born from the depths of insanity. 

No one was coming. No one ever would.

Maybe it was time to give up.

Time to surrender to the abyss, to let go of the tenuous thread that bound you to consciousness. As you teetered on the edge of oblivion, a fleeting sensation brushed against your senses, a whisper of familiarity.

You could smell it, faint and distant yet unmistakable. 

Night-chilled mist and cedar. 

It was that scent again. But like a wisp of smoke on the wind, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving your senses grasping at shadows in the void.

Another wicked false sense of hope. Your mind must be creating delusions as it comes close to its end.

No one was coming.

It was time to let go.

***

This was the last location. And then they’d go home. 

Finally.

Azriel straightened his posture, rolling back his shoulders with a weary sigh. His wings unfurled and then tucked in against his back. He felt anchored, weighed down, by the silent burdens he was carrying. Even his shadows were slumped against him, as if they were also affected by his fatigue.

Azriel was utterly exhausted.

Despite Cassian's concerned pleas for him to stay behind and rest, Azriel couldn't bring himself to heed them. The ache in his bones and the weight of exhaustion pulling at his limbs were nothing compared to the thought of letting Feyre and his brother face this mission alone. 

He was Spymaster of the Night Court, he would fulfil his duties regardless of his own welfare. Regardless of the demons that weighed on him.

But these demons of his, had been plaguing him for months. Clear in the dark offset look of his gaze, and the purple shadows that sat beneath his eyes– he was a tormented soul. 

The aftermath of the war had etched its scars deep into Azriel. It was a sensation he was all too familiar with, the fallout of anguish and slaughter, had always defined his life. But in recent months, his demons seemed to be haunting him more fiercely than usual, their whispers echoing in the silence of the night.

For months, Azriel had been plagued by a recurring dream, a nightmare he assumed. Because as much as he tried he couldn’t recall the details. Each time he would wake from the depths of his sleep, finding himself drenched in a clammy sheen of sweat, his chest heaving attempting to draw in air as though a claw was clenched around his lungs. 

But that is all that would linger.

A feeling, no memory of what had caused this reaction within him. No clue as to why his body shivered in fear when he woke. 

It was a maddening cycle, the dream hovering just beyond the edges of his consciousness. Clearly haunting in nature and yet elusive. Each day felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, the memory of something crucial lurking just beyond reach.

So close, and yet not close enough. And it was driving him mad.

In a desperate attempt to break free from that grip, he tried avoiding sleep altogether. Yet, that feeling persisted. A restless energy coursing beneath his skin. It was relentless, a constant reminder– that he was forgetting something of importance.

And that feeling terrified him. Azriel had always known most, metalicus with his gathering of intel and information. Skilled in deciphering most people and their thoughts. But his own mind had him at a loss. He was no Spymaster of his own consciousness, simply a male who couldn’t sleep because of a nightmare.

Feyre, Cassian and Azriel had embarked on the final leg of their scouting mission. Despite the passing of time since the war's end, new pockets of Hybern loyalists still cropped up. The three of them were tasked with weeding out any lingering enemies. They had arrived at the last location Azriel’s intel had unearthed. A manor house on the skirts of the borders, had whispered rumours to be a base for some Hybern stragglers.

Derelict and crumbling, the building seemed to sag under the weight of its own deterioration, its once-majestic features now reduced to a skeletal framework of crumbling stone and splintered wood. The scars of fire marred its surface, meaning any valuable pieces of information that might have once resided within its walls had long since been burnt. Nothing but charred remnants and ash laid in their wake.

They had been too late, but they still had to check nonetheless. 

"All clear from up above," Cassian announced, his voice cutting through the silence as he landed beside Feyre, who had just reentered what remained of the foyer. She had meticulously scouted the left wing of the building, while Azriel had taken the right.

"Clear here too," Feyre confirmed with a nod, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any signs of danger.

Azriel soon joined them. His part of the search had also yielded no immediate threats. Cassian stood beside his brother, kicking some burnt debris with his foot while mumbling that it was a shame Hybern’s men had burnt this place. That it was such a waste. But Azriel wasn’t listening. 

Running his rough hand down his face, he let out a heavy sigh. A very clear tell that he was not okay. Something Azriel never showed. But he could feel it again, under his skin. Pinching at him. Something faint in this chest, weighed and sliced, only to subside to a dull ache.

He felt uneasy, as he had for months but there was something about this place that had shaken a deepness within his gut. Even his shadows fluttered nervously around him.

Maybe he would need to see Madja when he got home. Or maybe even relinquish his pride, and ask Rhys for help.

“Let’s get this checked over quickly, and then head home. It’s been a long mission,” Feyre spoke softly, offering both males encouraging smiles as she gestured towards the back of the building. 

Feyre’s eyes settled on Azriel, giving him a reassuring look. For a moment Azriel almost let her in, he had noticed the concerned looks and touches his family had given him. Growing more and more these recent weeks. Instead though, he nodded softly following the pair into the back room. 

They descended down grand stairs, into the lower levels of the house. Each step he took echoed through the empty remnants of the building, every move feeling heavier and weightier. They were hit with a chill when they reached the bottom. In the absence of natural light, Feyre conjured small orbs of illumination, casting soft, flickering light that bobbed across the dark space. The feeble glow revealed crumbling walls and decaying remnants of furniture, similar to what they had seen upstairs. 

The air was heavy with the scent of decay and mildew, but there was something metallic that lingered.

Blood.

They could smell blood. And there was something else too. Perfumy and chemical.

Faebane. 

Tensions rose as they all hesitated on their weapons, Azriel’s fingers gingerly hovering over Truth Teller as they stepped deeper within the space. Azriel's shadows flickered and swirled around him, their movements erratic and unsettling. They sensed something lurking in the darkness, something that sent a shiver down his spine.

There was this haunting apprehension washing over Azriel as if he had been here before. He couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite pinpoint why he didn’t feel like a stranger in this room.

As though he had been here many times before and yet this was still his first time here. That gnawing began deep in his gut again as his fingers gripped at his dagger.

He heard Feyre gasp loudly, before his eyes quickly scanned to see what her light had revealed. 

A figure, barely recognisable in the dim light, hung limply from chains fastened to the wall, body gaunt and ravaged by torture. Steel rods protruded from flesh, each one coated in the deadly poison of faebane, its sickly scent permeating the air.

Feyre's hands flew to her mouth in horror, her eyes wide with disbelief and revulsion. "Is she..." her voice trailed off, unable to voice the question that hung in her mind. She had to stop herself from gagging, as the contents of her stomach threatened to spill up her throat.

Even Cassian, veteran of countless battles and witness to nearly every injury imaginable, could not conceal the grimace that tugged at his lips. They all took a moment to absorb the sight before them, Azriel remaining motionless as he processed the scene. The sensation from earlier still persisted, but now intensifying as Azriel's gaze fell upon the steel rod protruding from the body's chest, a sharp pang jolting through his own.

Azriel staggered, overcome by a sudden wave of agony that seized him, breaths ragged and uneven. Feyre moved swiftly to his side, her hand offering comfort as she implored about his well-being, but his attention was elsewhere.

He wasn’t listening to Feyre, he was listening to his shadows.

Alive.

They were pulsating beside him, waiting for his orders, waiting to be released, begging to be released.

Azriel clutched his chest, mustering his strength to stand straighter, the pain subsiding for now as he took a hesitant step closer, 

Alive, alive, alive.

They whispered frantically this time, their urgency desperate.

Then Azriel saw it. The faint rise and fall of your chest, the subtle rhythm of your heartbeat still persisting against all odds.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat, his mind struggling to process the sight before him.

How? How were you still alive?

He wasn't the only one to notice. Cassian, wasted no time in springing into action, his voice commanding as he instructed them to release you from your chains, to get you the urgent help you needed. Both Feyre and Cassian, mentally calling to Rhys to be ready with Madja.

But Azriel was frozen in place, his senses honed in on the fragile thread of life that still clung to you. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched, his chest constricting with an overwhelming emotion.

He remembered. 

The sight before him wasn’t new. No, he had seen this. Seen you before. Felt this way every night for months. 

It was you whom he had been forgetting when he woke, the haunting echo of your desperate pleas vibrating in his mind. As he watched your body slump to the floor, freed from the chains that had bound you, Azriel struggled to push back the flood of visions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Visions of you, screaming, pleading for someone to help you.

Begging him to come save you.

How could he have forgotten? Your cries had pierced through the darkness, reaching out to him night after night.

A plea for salvation had rippled down the thread that seemed to connect you.

That thread.

That power that had subconsciously been connecting you both for months began to hum. Louder and brighter than anything Azriel had ever felt before.

It was a realisation, a confirmation to what he had been feeling for all that time. The golden warmth finally settled under his bones, consuming all his senses.

The mating bond.

You were his mate.

Something that was supposed to be so cherished, felt incredibly bittersweet as he watched your near dead form be pulled into Cassian’s arms.

He could feel your pain seeping through the bond, in fact that is what he had been feeling all those weeks. Your suffering leaking its way down to Azriel. Your pleas reaching him in the depths of his sleep.

He had a mate, finally.

And yet when he pulled gently on that faint thread that linked you to him, he could feel it fading.

Maybe he was too late.

***

A bright white light filled your vision, its touch lining your body slowly.

It was time. You were ready.

But just as you were on the brink of surrender, a golden warmth surged forth, wrapping around you like a protective shield. It tugged at you, pulling you back, refusing to let you go.

Not now, not yet. It spoke.

You resisted, clinging stubbornly to the edge of oblivion, but the pull of that hazel glow was undeniable.

Let me go. It hurts. I want to leave. Your soul cried towards the glow.

The hazel glow called out to you with a familiarity that stirred something deep within your soul.

I won’t let you go. Not now, not now that I have you. 

You couldn’t understand. You heard no voice, yet you felt every word.

I need you to fight, for yourself, for me, fight harder than you ever have done and I promise, after this, you will never have to fight again.

Why those words had some sway over you, you weren’t sure. But when your senses filled with that comforting scent you had smelt every night for the past months. It tethered you, anchoring you in the physical realm once more.

You could smell it again, night-chilled air and cedar.

You would hold onto it one last time.

***

Agonising screams filled the air as you writhed in pain on the makeshift table. Your body contorting, fingers clawing desperately at the gaping wound in your chest. Even in the dim light, Azriel could see the blood, thick and crimson oozing through your fingers as you had lurched up when Cassian had pulled the poison coated rod from your chest.

They had managed to remove some while you were unconscious, but the pain of this one, deep in your chest, had yanked you awake. How you were still alive none of them understood. Your injuries and body filled with enough faebane to kill a dozen fae. 

Your vision was still distorted. Just one of the injuries that ravaged your body. Only blurry shapes and figures filled your sight, and the lack of that sense only added to your fear. You couldn’t see who you were with, and although they didn’t sound like your captors, you didn’t know them. Didn’t trust them, and they were hurting you.

Even if they repeatedly told you they were helping you, their touch just brought more pain.

Madja flitted around Cassian, her hands hovering over the faebane-drenched wounds in a futile attempt to heal. Azriel stood at the head of the table, crouched down close as he firmly held one of your arms down. His shadows fidgeted uneasily around him, reflecting his inner turmoil. He had witnessed countless horrors in his life, some inflicted upon himself, but seeing his mate in such agony was a new level of torment. 

Feeling the pain trickling down the bond was tearing him apart.

“Stop, stop. Please…” Your plea was raw, your voice strained and hoarse from the agony that wracked your body. Azriel shuddered at your tone, your voice an echo of the nightmares that had haunted him for endless nights. 

He remembered it all now.

Each night, stumbling through darkness, trying to follow that golden bond to you. To your calls for him. And each time, he tried to figure out where you were, how to get to you, how to save you only to forget everything when he woke. His memory of you slipping through his fingers like sand. 

“Rhys, there must be something you can do,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation as he looked over your pained expression.

Feyre had diligently wiped the blood from your face, revealing slashes across your eyes. Remarkably, Madja seemed optimistic about their healing potential, though it was contingent upon your survival. He could feel your fear rippling down the bond, how frightened and in pain you were.

“Azriel…my power, I can’t penetrate her mind. The faebane has saturated her body, creating an impenetrable barrier,” Rhys responded. “I’m sorry brother…I’m truly sorry.”

Azriel couldn’t contain the small whispered sob that escaped him, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

When Cassian had carried you from that dark basement, Azriel had acted on instinct, snatching you carefully from his brother's arms and holding you close. He whispered into your ear, a litany of apologies for not finding you sooner, for the pain you endured. He begged you to fight, to hold on for him. And had clung to that faint glimmer of hope as he returned to the safety of the River House.

Rhys had prepared a table for Madja to work on, but neither of them had anticipated the extent of your injuries.

Azriel had laid you on the table, still unconscious as he nervously watched Rhys and Madja try their best. Cassian and Feyre joining them moments later to help. 

It was then they had all realised.

He was fussing over you, whispering frantically and his shadows had been skittishly tracing over your body and injuries. So unlike the usual calm and collected Spymaster.

Rhys had pieced it together first. Simply stating She’s your mate into Azriel’s mind. Although it was clear by the heartbreaking expressions on his family's faces, they were all aware of the significance you held.

Azriel felt helpless, he couldn’t lessen your anguish, couldn’t heal you, couldn’t do anything.

Your sobbing started again, while you writhed under their strong hands. Pleading for release. Instead, they responded with reassurances and hushed whispers, and there was one voice in particular that washed over you in a familiarity you didn’t understand.

You fought against them, resisting their attempts to restrain you, but they were stronger. Another wave of agony rippled through you as they worked to remove one of the steel bars embedded within your flesh.

“Focus, Shadowsinger,” Madja's voice cut through the turmoil, her gaze landing on him firmly.

“The best course of action is to remove these rods and then attempt to drain the faebane from her system. Her resilience is remarkable, but she won’t survive much longer without intervention.” Madja was speaking directly to Azriel now, he took a second to look down at you crying on the table. Cassian and Rhys holding you down, while they calculated removing the next impalement. 

Madja continued, “If you want to help her, comfort her, support her.” The instructions were clear.

Feyre spoke then, glancing between your pained form and then to Azriel. “Use the bond Az, she needs you.”

With hesitation, Azriel’s rough hand found yours. Holding it tightly. Grooves and lines were etched into his weathered skin, speaking of his own past battles. Instinctively you wanted to recoil from the stranger's touch, but as you felt another pull on your torso you clutched down on his hand tightly. Another sob racking through you.

You felt him close to you now, his presence enveloping you as his warm breath brushed across your face. He was close to you. But you couldn’t make out who he was. Only a blurred version of a male with tan skin and dark hair. His other hand grazed your cheek, offering you a comfort you hadn’t felt in months. 

“I need you to fight just a little longer,” the voice was deep and warm, there was something about it or maybe it was the words he had chosen that felt familiar. 

“It hurts..” you whispered, another sob leaving your lips.

"I know, I know it does...but not much longer, okay? And then you can rest, I promise," he reassured you, igniting a flicker of hope within you despite the overwhelming pain.

Then Azriel pulled gently on the bond sending ripples of reassurance and comfort down the link. So much that he hoped to drown any pain out you were feeling.

You felt that golden warmth fill your chest, that same feeling that had pulled you from the white abyss many times before.

"It's you..." Your voice choked with emotion, the realisation dawning upon you.

Azriel stood there, uncertain of how to respond, but he watched as you turned toward him, your brows furrowed in concentration. Though your vision remained distorted, blurred colours danced before you, and amidst the haze of black and deep tan, you saw it—the faint glimmer of hazel.

"You came for me..."

"Always..." Azriel's voice cracked with emotion, his unwavering commitment laid bare.

With the last of the rods removed, your body bled profusely. Madja urged caution, while Feyre urgently advocated to cauterise the wounds. But with this amount of faebane, they grappled with the best course of action. Their voices melding in a flurry of noise.

A soft, sad smile graced your lips, your hand reaching out to touch the figure before you, feeling the contours of his cheek beneath your fingertips.

Blood began to fill your mouth, the red liquid seeping through your smile. The bitter taste staining your words. Azriel began to shake his head, clinging to that fading bond with all his strength. With a pained slowness, he felt your hand slip from his cheek, leaving a blood-stained print upon his skin.

"You were real..." Your voice was barely a whisper now, breaths shallow. "My thread of hazel."

a/n: ngl I don't love this lol, doesn't feel like my best work but sometimes it's better posted than perfect! I had originally planned for this to be longer, but writers slump has me in a chokehold so this is all I managed! Anywho, hope you enjoyed the angst! <3 - Lottie Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel series #azriel fic rec

[val-cansalute]

summary: You’ve been in Jackson for three months; you’ve been stuck in a perpetual cycle of guilt and ravenous grief, trying desperately to recover from what went down between you and your brother before you left home and came here. Needless to say, you’re fitting in like a lego block in an 1000 piece puzzle, and you realise you’re better off going back to the old house, where you can succumb to the thoughts that plague you. Maria tries to help here and there, shoving you into patrol with people she prays you’ll get along with, namely Ellie Williams. Rather than that, you expectedly remain strong in your stance, both of you as closed off as each other. You come to appreciate the mutual understanding you’ve reached, giving each other space, only ever making slightly critical remarks, to the point where you think you see cracks start to form in your iron shell. But iron is iron, after all.

ch. 1 -

You’re not getting better, definitely worse. Patrol is the only force beckoning you to leave your den of misery, patrol with Ellie. Not much luck there either, you return with an injured ankle and an Ellie who is slightly less awkward and icy, similar to you. Though, when you’re alone with your thoughts again, you are utterly helpless.

ch. 2 -

Progress is dwindling, regress is massive; you’ve been inside for a fucking long time, with your only motivation for getting outside off the table. The numbness is overwhelming, so the knocking goes unanswered as you merge with your mattress. You told yourself you’d leave Jackson once you can walk again. Then, Ellie breaks the door down, with a very important food delivery. She profusely apologises, but the blizzard raging outside captures your focus. She can’t get home now. Sleepover?

ch. 3 -

This chapter contains smut.

The tension is high after last night’s events. Ellie’s on her way soon after, and the consequences of her busting through your door fully set in when the woman from the infirmary manages to get inside to check if your ankle is healing well. Good news: it is. So, you can set off soon. Ellie returns, to your surprise, and she comes bearing gifts. You learn something new everyday, e.g. weed makes you and Ellie horny.

ch. 4 -

Ellie’s departure was a gentle slaughter of your heart, leaving you dazed and empty. It’s time to go. One last meeting with the people of Jackson at the party Ellie left you to help with, and you’re off, leaving nothing but a note and a confused Ellie to read it behind.

ch. 5 -

She’s searching for you, she’s desperate, and hungry, and exhausted, but she’s been worse. There’s no way she won’t find you.

ch. 6 -

This chapter contains smut.

Recovery is a slow process, but Ellie is someone you’ve historically found comfort in. Each day, she expands the bounds of that comfort, and each day, you’re sure you want to live to see another.

playlist:

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie fluff #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n #enemies to lovers #the last of us #the last of us x reader #ellie williams series #ellie williams smut #masterlist #ellie williams angst #angst #ellie williams tlou #lesbian #wlw #ellie williams fluff #ellie fanfic #ellie x you #ellie williams masterlist #ellie williams the last of us

[astriel-nya]

"That's what you want, isn't it? To be mine? Forever?"

This is my favourite Ascended Astarion line, it was like he read my Tav's mind or something. No matter how their relationship could change within eternity, my Tav wanted to be bound to Astarion forever.

Personally my Durge Warlock Tav had already made a pact with a devil, and was born Bhaalspawn so what's another bloodpact with the person they love no less? Pretty much vampire marriage, and Astarion will extend Mepistopheles blessing onto you and let you consume his blood for this so you will get none of the downsides of being a spawn.

People keep saying Ascended Astarion is Cazador 2.0 however, I haven't seen any sort of behaviour that is like that? People bring up not being able to break up with him at the end of the game, but you only get to that point after agreeing to "Forever". If they didn't want that they should have rejected being turned into his spawn.

Astarion VS Cazador

Cazador made turning into a spawn incredibly painful for Astarion. However, you awake with full HP and it didn't seem to match Astarion's experience at all:

"I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last."

Astarion listens to your Tav depending on what they ask for, Cazador wouldn't bother with this:

"Let it hurt"/"Be gentle"

Astarion will make being a spawn different from the relationship he had with Cazador as he will bless you so you have none of the downsides he was forced to ensure. Cazador literally tortured his spawn and whored them out, he would never extend the blessing as that would make their lives happier/more equal.

"Things will be a touch different for you than they were for me when I was a spawn." "I can extend Mepistopheles' blessing unto you"

Asks what you want at end of game, puts his plans of world domination on hold just wants to be with you. If he was like Cazador the tadpole has gone, he has full control of you why would he even bother asking you what you wanted let alone doing what you wanted:

Tav - “I want to see the world with you at my side” and he will say “Then you shall. We’ll travel the lands together, tasting everything Faerun has to offer. Perhaps we’ll find somewhere we’d like to stay for a century or two – perhaps not. We have a beautiful, bloody future to look forward to, my love. I can’t be sure what it holds for us, but I know one thing. This is going to be fun.” He genuinely looks so happy here, and excited for the future in front of him, he’s free of anything Cazador cursed upon him and can actually begin living.

In the datamined epilogues there is no indication that anything bad has happened in the relationship, like he suddenly became Cazador 2.0 or something they sound happy together:

“The Vampire Ascendent he chose to leave Baldur’s Gate with his consort and travel the world indulging in every delight it offered. Rumours of their debauchery abound, but all agree a night revelling with them will be the greatest or most horrifying night of your life.”

Astarion Ascends into a creature different from Cazador so just like with the Unascended route he has a chance to break the cycle of abuse. In both routes he's going to be traumatized, go back to old coping mechanisms and have loads to work through to get to a healthy place and both routes are great. He essentially gains more humanity by being able to enjoy the luxuries of the living, so I don't believe he just turns into some mindless, power hungry Cazador 2.0 incapable of love or feelings.

"If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant. All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them he will enjoy the luxuries of the living."

One thing I wanted to add with people saying after Ascending he treats you like a "pet" because of him calling you that petname after. Is that he literally calls you "pet" when you go into Sharesses Carrass when he's still a spawn. So that argument makes no sense. I even call my boyfriend pet as a petname irl, like it's not a big deal.

Both routes are awesome and both have grey areas and both could turn out to be healthy relationships just as much as turning into abusive ones :)) just because we dealt with Cazador doesn't mean anything is fixed instantly, it's going to take a long time and probably a lot of therapy in both cases for Astarion to start recovering.

#Astarion never flays Tav #forces them to eat rats #whores them out to lure people back to him or locks you in a tomb like Cazador did to him. #dark urge #baldurs gate #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #durge #ascended astarion #baldursgate #bg3 astarion

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Undertale Yellow: An amazing fangame with one glaring thing I hate about it (that I need to rant about or else I'm going to go insane).

As the title says, Undertale Yellow was a game I really enjoyed playing. Lots of fun dialogue and designs, utterly fantastic art and animation (holy hell that Flowey fight! <3 <3 <3), great music and feels, etc. Seriously it deserves a ton of praise, not only as a fully completed fangame that took years of development, but as genuinely amazing prequel to one of my favorite games of all time.

...Unfortunately. Much as I truly enjoyed playing through the majority of the game, when I finished the True Pacifist route I was intensely unhappy with how that went and while the credits scenes and funeral for Cover helped ease some of the worst of it, I cannot help but wonder who the flipping f$%& in the development team thought presenting Clover's suicide as the 'just and happy' ending that all the friend characters accept with barely any argument was a good idea?!

Now to clarify: I went into Undertale Yellow knowing that Clover was going to die and that there were good odds their death was going to be self sacrificial or involve suicide. Undertale Yellow is a prequel to Undertale after all and children being murdered and/or sacrificing themselves for the greater good of lovable monster kind is an established part of the setting.

I came in knowing this game was bound to end tragically. I was excited to see how this game would pull that inevitable tragedy off while exploring the Yellow soul's theme of Justice and staying true to Undertale's established canon.

And all the way right up to the end of the True Pacifist ending I truly thought they'd nailed it: The constant pressure of the monsters suffering and being trapped in the Underground despite their sweet and earnest natures, Dalv's clear issues regarding a human, Starlow's unintentional reinforcement of the 'one sacrifice for the greater good' idea with his trolley problem reenactment, the repeated back to back betrayals from characters who should be friends (the Feisty Five, Starlow, Ceraba) hurting Clover instead, the dull realization in universe for Clover that all their efforts to find the missing human children were all for nothing...

It was fantastic. There was a real sense of looming dread for me, seeing all those moments and just knowing in my gut that after the desperate struggle with the agonized and grieving Ceraba, ranting about how monster kind is doomed as it stands, that Clover would start thinking of sacrificing their life for monster kind, especially when their 'sense of Justice' at the start of the game had them willingly jump into a gaping pit they couldn't have possibly have known the height of, for the sake of mission they (according to Flowey) easily abandon when offered a loving home instead. (aka implying not so great things about how much they value their own life)

So. With all that 'hyped for tragedy' in mind, there I am at the True Pacifist ending. I've just spared Ceraba, the friends are all arguing as to how to keep Clover (and possibly any future humans who fall) safe and Clover begins to go into something of a zone out, thinking about all the things they've heard and seen over the course of their adventure.

This is it! I think to myself as I watch it play out. This is where Clover, after everything they've been through, makes the tragic yet understandable mistake of running away from their friends and confronting Asgore just as Flowey kept encouraging them to! Not to fight and bring Asgore to justice but to try talking him down and when they fail that, offering up their life to help and 'save' their friends even as the narrative will (matching Undertale) will make it clear that this is a mistake and only hurts everyone involved, just like every suicide and child murder in Undertale hurts everyone involved until Frisk is able to end the cycle of pain by rejecting the Kill or be Killed premise and setting the monsters free! Wow, I can't believe it, they set it up so well, what a perfect way to tie into Undertale's greater narrative via tragic prequel, I love this eeeeee!

Except of course that's not what happens.

My first hint something is off is when the quotes Clover's 'remembering' in their little bubble start being way too positive for the set up (also there's nothing from the trolley problem section). The second is when the music shifts from quiet to holy and then outright happy.

And third is when Clover snaps out of it and point blank tells their friends they choose to die. Now, I'm getting a little confused and wary at this but alright, this is a pretty long sequence already but I guess we get to have one final hope moment before Clover somehow gets away from their friends to die (maybe Flowey if not Asgore?)-

-and then I am left absolutely flabbergasted as the friends who just spent the last huge chunk of the game trying to protect Clover/getting talked out of killing them because 'its not right' end up agreeing with Clover's decision after a pitiful amount of arguing against it (where the utterly stupid 'there's no other option' reasoning is used as the primary reasoning despite all the other options being very clearly stated just moments ago), before the woman who's entire massive trauma arc that is centered around her accidentally killing her own child out of blind faith for 'the greater good', proceeds to assist Clover with their suicide (who she clearly views as a surrogate child despite her best attempts not to) while the other characters meekly say goodbye, give hugs and leave all while bittersweet but mostly sweet 'great job honey, this sucks but we're proud of you' music plays (also Flowey says stuff but like, its Flowey so frankly he could say anything and it'd be fine. He's not the issue here).

...Wow.

What a screwed up way for that to end. Like, I clearly get the 'idea' that Clover is meant to be noble and good and such but like, really? A fan game of Undertale (where one of the main ending messages was 'Don't kill and don't be killed', where a child's suicidal attempts to free monster kind lead to every major tragedy in the game, and where suicide was repeatedly shown to only make things worse through Asgore and Alphys in numerous neutral endings) is the game that decides having its protagonist's pointless self sacrifice should be honored and treated as a good ending by the narrative?????

How did none of the otherwise clearly brilliant people working on this miss the very bad, no good implications of Clover's friends being talked into letting them kill themselves and having the narrative frame it as anything but the worst end?????

I have many, many questions. And concerns. And...

Look, I do get it. Undertale Yellow is still a fangame. There are going to be weird notes in the tone due to different writers and such, and I should just be happy that the game was finished it at all, and accept that this god awful scene is probably just the result of its creators really, really wanting their beloved characters to go out as kindly (and beautifully drawn/animated) as possible with all the hugs and feels of canon Undertale without taking into account how much the very different context might warp the tone and the characterizations of everyone in the entire scene.

But like. God damn. There is something very off putting about not letting brave kind Martlet refuse to take this as an answer and then finding she actually can't stop it happening (and no her saying that after like two sentences from 'Ceraba who's judgement about the human sucks' doesn't count). About Starlow not recognising he and his posse might've had something to do with why Clover is thinking this. About Ceraba not on some level going 'IF THIS IS YOUR CHOICE THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME USE YOU TO SAVE KANAKO?!' Edit: Also a totally waste of prequel opportunity not to let Asgore visibly make the worst choices we canonly know he made on screen. Yes, he gets to stab Clover in the Flawed!Pacist route but Clover's trying to shoot him in that one; the fact we don't get to see him stab a 'far too willing to die for their friends and not defending themselves' Clover as the friend trio can do nothing to stop it from happening feels like such a cop out I swear XD

I'm all for 'Clover dies willingly' at the end of the True Pacifist but they way they did it was just... Really ugh in a way I'm finding tricky to word and I'm honestly shocked I haven't seen more people point it out (though admittedly that might be because I haven't really looked around much). ...So yeah. I know its too late to change said ending but really kinda hoping at some point one of the Undertale Yellow team realizes this might be an issue and thinks to add a content warning in the game's opening or something because it could really use one of those. Also that for any future projects they do, they happen to do a little more research into how to avoid accidentally glorify suicide as opposed to having it as a tragedy because damn they did not manage that here whatsoever.

---

ANYWAY, with all that rant finally out of my head some other stuff about Undertale Yellow I be feeling strongly:

Flowey's boss battle and the lead up to it is incredible and without a doubt makes the neutral route the most amazing well crafted route in the game. 10/10 may have already mentioned this in the massive rant above but if so gonna repeat it anyway because it's just that damn good.

Genocide route being a deconstruction of the 'disproportionate revenge is justice' 90s Anti Hero is very cool theme wise but the lack of the lack of stuff like notes in shops saying 'please don't kill my family' and monsters with less screen time getting more fleshed out drags it down a little, as does Clover not actually choking on dust or getting attacked by the human souls or something at the very end. Really do love the Martlet battle flashback moments and Axel's horrifically timed confession scene though.

The general uselessness of the ACT menu in big 'endurance' fights as well as the lack of 'alternative sparing ACTS' makes fights a lot less fun than they could be and I found myself a lot less willing to use them in general as a result despite them being my favorite thing about Undertale. Did still adore what fun stuff was in them though so I think it's just a case of them being a tad too out of focus compared to the bullet hell gameplay (which I'm not that good at) for my tastes.

Pacifist route could've really used some more optional hangouts and/or letters from the main friends. As is, the peak 'hang out' part of the game for me was the nap room I spent maybe two minutes in, and Dalv especially could've benefitted a ton from a bit more presence (I got more interaction from Mo and the rabbit who's tongue was stuck to a pole and I'm not happy about that? If nothing else not getting to see the inside of Martlet's house or help Dalv build his new home feel like lost opportunities).

Personal pet peeve and nothing too serious but not a fan of Asgore not getting the kill on Clover outside of Flawed Pacifist. Makes sense on most routes (glares at T!Pacifist again) given the way the plot is set up and all but given Toby Fox has repeatedly stated Asgore killed all the humans who fell post Chara it just drives me nuts XD (As does the poor Blue Soul getting treated as a killer/evil but like, I can see where people are coming on that one and Undertale Yellow uses that to amp up Chujin's nightmare fuel vibes fantastically so I shall reluctantly congratulate that theory's use there and steel myself for the inevitable 'wait you're using Undertale Yellow lore but Axis didn't kill Integrity?' questions that will be posted on my 'will eventually be posted' Undertale fanfics XDDDD)

Love all the main cast, especially Martlet, and I am way too hyped for the day Undertale Yellow and its main cast get their own fandom tags on AO3.

...Kanako's death was incredibly stupid and avoidable but like, that's kind of what I like about it? I really also wanna know which Amalgamite she became (I'm thinking probably the one that tucks Frisk in to sleep and pats them on the head because of her and Ceraba's little 'going to sleep' game but like, I could see a very heart wrenching case for her being part of So Cold as well).

Anyone reading this who somehow hasn't played Undertale Yellow should really stop reading this and go play the game. It's free, its (one major thematic issue I have moral objections to aside) pretty decently written, and hey, more Undertale stuff to have fun making fanworks with <3

Goddamn has Undertale Yellow kicked my drive to write Undertale fanfic into overload XD Thank you Undertale Yellow team for helping me get all fired up again and sorry about all the grr but dang it, it needed to be said and now that it's out of my system I can throw myself into finding ways to incorporate your settings and characters into fanworks of my own (admittedly the AU elements might make things kinda tricky -Asgore having to kill EVERY human child even more so- but that nifty little detail of early Royal Guard Martlet having and being willing to abuse her access to the Hotland Lab allows me so many ways to have Chujin be a well meaning awful person and I am living for it!) <3 <3 <3

#Undertale Yellow #undertale #fangame #undertale spoilers #undertale yellow spoilers #tw discussion of suicide and suicide related themes #game rants #constructive criticism (well hopefully anyway) #Fais rambles #I have been hesitating over the post now button for twenty minutes now and I really should not be this nervous. I'm not even rude dang it #oh wait I forgot swearing is rude in some places #cw swearing #ut yellow #uty #uty spoilers

[mrssoapmactavish]

maneater - chapter one

"if you're in it for love, you ain't gonna get too far"

this is the 'first' part of the andromeda series! still working on an official title for it all, but when it's set in stone, that'll be how you can easily find these works :)

mdni at all times! ageless/empty blogs are not welcome here!!

steve harrington had always had a bit of a thing for the emotionally distant women, even if no one would dare point it out to the boy. maybe it's the abandonment from his parents, but it's most definitely not the healthiest thing in the world for him, in fact more often than not leaving him heartbroken, such is the case with the last 'girlfriend' he'd had, nancy wheeler.

after barb's disappearance, she had gone from interested like the sweet, naive schoolgirl falling head-first for the captain of the basketball team like his parents would've hoped for him– if they were actually around, mind you– to detached, then eventually very obviously palling around with jonathan byers.

after accepting the fact that nancy was never really his to begin with– and accepting the heart-aching sting of unrequited love, another emptiness in his life that swallows him whole with loneliness– things had mostly re-stabilized. he was back to hating classes, having tommy and carol still chirping in his ear like nothing had happened. like him and tommy didn't get into a fight last year around this time, before steve had been back into the endless cycle of girls throwing themselves at him, basketball, and feeling oh so alone.

and now, lo and behold, the year he's bound to graduate and he's been applying to colleges and universities left and right, he saw billy hargrove and his two sisters.

sure, he already had a bone to pick with billy himself– the kid had the whole bad-boy thing going on, all the girls that hadn't had a chance to get swayed or swooned over king steve were utterly enamored– but he was pretty indifferent about the young redhead, knowing that the kids would eventually have something to say and he'd get an earful secondhand from nancy.

no, his interest was in the dirty blonde in the leather jacket with cherry-red lips and a furrow in her brows.

she'd been cold and detached when he had first approached her. fine, cool, he totally gets it. but seeing the way billy had given him the nastiest side-eye for greeting his sibling? it lit a fire in him, something he hadn't really felt for a while, and seeing her in his first class of the day stoked it, the flames licking within him, even if he can feel the sting of guilt knowing that this new student is just as interesting to him as nancy had been.

his eyes were locked on her, even as he pretended to laugh along with whatever stupid jest tommy had made that had carol smacking his shoulder and lecturing him, and the way she shifted her balance from foot to foot in front of the class as the insufferable chem teacher continues to ask her about herself.

"we moved from orange county. me, my brother, our half-sister, step-mom and our dad." her tone is full of boredom; she'd rather be anywhere but here, he can feel it coming off of her in waves, but his curious mind swirls at all the possibilities of what she'd rather be doing.

the thought of the girl in a cheerleading uniform just didn't fit. no, she's not the type of girl to spell out a cheer, to shake those ruffled pompoms and get the crowd roaring with excitement. nor was she the sports type; the idea of seeing her in short volleyball shorts is being filed away for later, though, don't get him wrong.

no, the first thought that comes to his head about what she would be doing is something steve harrington would've avoided a year ago.

it's strange to him; he'd never been a big fan of heavier music, always preferring catchy, danceable songs about love, parties, and other light topics, but he could close his eyes now and hear music blasting from an amplifier. she's the type to smell like vanilla and cinnamon, mostly to cover the smell of nicotine from sharing a pack with that ratty brother of hers.

the longer he watches her clash against the teachers' attempt to integrate the outsider into the class community, the more he can imagine of her. the type to drink beer at a party, to hang around whatever friends her brother had because the girls bore her with their chatty nature and mindless gossip.

as much as he wants nothing to do with the 'hargrove' name, he'd give up as many practices as possible to get so much as a glimpse into this girls personal life.

watching the girl walk with confidence but no real anger in her gait to the back of the class, sitting herself down at a table with no other students to be left the hell alone, steve finds himself staring down at his watch. he could swing skipping practice today, maybe, just to see if she'd talk to him more.

"this kinda looks like your old girlfriend, hahaha!" - scotty, evil dead (1981)

steve is, quite honestly, indifferent about the fact that he didn't choose to just skip basketball practice today. on the downside, hargrove is here, smirking and snide and really just giving far too much sass, making him seem like a scrawny kid who only got called the captain of the team because he was king steve.

he'd be absolutely fuming and ready to bitch and moan about this all afternoon and evening to anyone who'll listen– tommy, probably, and try to tone it down a bit more when he's around nancy later– if there wasn't a certain cherry-lipped blonde sitting on the stands, flipping through some boring, keep-you-busy magazine.

sure, he knows the girl won't talk much with him, but it means that the very least he can do is focus more on the game, if only to selfishly hope he'll catch her eye and at least be talked to more than a scowled out greeting. he's dying to talk to someone who doesn't know him as the same prick he was throughout highschool, he's realized.

someone who doesn't, hasn't, or never will associate him with that horrid label of king steve. maybe someone who'll look at him, what he does hanging around the school and occasionally chauffering around some of the kids, and see someone interesting. valuable. worth her time.

too bad his train of thought distracts him from keeping his footing, because it makes it much easier for billy to knock him off his feet, leaving steve to slam down against the scuffed gym floor. now that's embarrassing, he thinks to himself, what a way to make a first impression.

he's not sure whether or not billy had seen the glances towards his sister, he assumes it's the reason for the abrupt shove to the ground, especially in a no-contact sport like basketball. one thing he's very well aware of, however, is the pair of eyes on him from high up in the stands, watching his movements. it makes part of him feel elated; the idea of finally catching her attention, even if it's just because of a loud noise and a human concern for pain, sends a ripple of excitement through his veins.

steve is helped up to his feet, but not before billy mutters something he doesn't quite catch or process right away. "should've planted your feet," the californian mutters, then continuing on with the game like nothing had happened, the jeering and taunts continuing.

steve is no fool; knows that billy hargrove is aiming to dethrone him as king of hawkins high.

a year ago, that might have irked him. his popularity was all that kept his facade together, the glue that kept steve harrington from being exposed as a kid, desparately seeking meaningful connection, something he'd never gotten from his parents. he doesn't like seeking external validation, but because he'd never truly gotten it unconditionally from his parents, he knows it's what he needs to survive. and christ, what's so wrong with him that he doesn't deserve even a single attaboy?

but now? now that he and nancy have been slowly falling apart and he's having to face the fact that he's lost his first love, who he's been turning around for, reforming from his old ways for? now that tommy hagan and carol perkins are only faking friendship with steve, all because steve wouldn't let them call nancy a whore for hanging around jonathan byers?

he couldn't care less. as long as he has something to keep his mind off of the loneliness that seeps into his bones, a reason to stay as far away from his empty home as possible, a reason to come to school every day.. he's alright. at least, he hopes he is.

as he puts on the facade of not being affected or rattled by this entire revelation from the floor of the hawkins high basketball court, he notices that billy hargrove's sister watches intently from the stands, no longer bored and flipping through her magazine to occupy her idle hands and mind.

it's strange, how even just that brings a smile to his face.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things s2 #andromeda st fic #andromeda st #andromeda series #steve harrington x hargrove!reader #cherry hargrove #steve harrington x reader slowburn #billy hargrove #archers 18+ emporium

[queenlucythevaliant]

Usually, even a non-Christian knows something about the earth, the heavens, and the other elements of this world, about the motion and orbit of the stars and even their size and relative positions, about the predictable eclipses of the sun and moon, the cycles of the years and the seasons, about the kinds of animals, shrubs, stones, and so forth, and this knowledge he holds to as being certain from reason and experience. Now, it is a disgraceful and dangerous thing for an infidel to hear a Christian, presumably giving the meaning of Holy Scripture, talking non-sense on these topics; and we should take all means to prevent such an embarrassing situation, in which people show up vast ignorance in a Christian and laugh it to scorn. The shame is not so much that an ignorant individual is derided, but that people outside the household of the faith think our sacred writers held such opinions, and, to the great loss of those for whose salvation we toil, the writers of our Scripture are criticized and rejected as unlearned men. If they find a Christian mistaken in a field which they themselves know well and hear him maintaining his foolish opinions about our books, how are they going to believe those books in matters concerning the resurrection of the dead, the hope of eternal life, and the kingdom of heaven, when they think their pages are full of falsehoods on facts which they themselves have learnt from experience and the light of reason? Reckless and incompetent expounders of holy Scripture bring untold trouble and sorrow on their wiser brethren when they are caught in one of their mischievous false opinions and are taken to task by those who are not bound by the authority of our sacred books. For then, to defend their utterly foolish and obviously untrue statements, they will try to call upon Holy Scripture for proof and even recite from memory many passages which they think support their position, although "they understand neither what they say nor the things about which they make assertion."

St. Augustine, De Genesi ad Litteram, emphasis mine

#listen. i know some theistic evolution proponents like to point to this text and try to claim Augustine as one of ours #and i know that's disingenuous #he was writing in the fifth century for crying out loud #what i AM saying (and what many who mire discerningly point to this text are saying i think) #is that it's important to consider the how Christian knowledgeablity and intellectual honesty is viewed by the secular world #for every YE creationist proclaiming that the fossil record is unreliable #there's someone with knowledge on the subject scratching because they know that's simply not true #and subsequently writing Christianity off as a religion of dogmatism and ignorance #now listen. this isn't to say that Christians shouldn't hold controversial positions regardless of what the world says of them #but if you're going to hold those positions around secular folks who may be open to the gospel #you had darn well better think about how you're representing Christ and His Church #that's how I read this passage #and I see it as a serious warning to anyone (me) who wants to talk about Scripture and the mechanics of the natural world in the same breath #all truth is God's truth #pontifications and creations #these tags are riddled with typos but fixing them would be a real pain sorry

[screwhope]

the princess &* henry have something very similar in common -- both were being set up by their parents to wed one another , &* both had eyes elsewhere. her parents always told her she could marry for love , but there was a hitch in that story -- the boy she'd loved left her high &* dry. her parents had forgiven the fact that she'd run away with the dark one's son &* basically sworn off her crown. when she'd come home empty handed , snow was far gentler than she probably deserved for the hell she'd put her parents through. but the status of her cycle two months later became the real punishment. eighteen &* unmarried was one thing , but to be an unwed princess with a child ? the best she could do was marry -- &* fast.

so they'd found henry. a soft , sweet prince that never seemed eager to settle down. the catch in this narrative is that they haven't told henry the truth. haven't told him that a hurried marriage &* honeymoon was to cover up emma's mistake. hadn't mentioned the impending 'premature' baby that came in less than seven months now. while emma has been utterly herself around him , sometimes things got too personal for her comfort.

@waehles ↳ you're lying, which is both out of character and really annoying.

❛ or maybe you just don't know me very well. did you ever think of that ?   ❜ a weak attempt to save her ass. to possibly change the subject away from the slip-up she'd just had. the question had been simple : HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE ? her answer ? no. it wasn't completely a lie -- in fact , she wasn't sure if she had been in love ! if everything she felt for baelfire was foolish &* unfounded. still ; the question made her squirmy. if she was too honest , it would lead to a conversation she didn't want to have about why it had ended. she was bound to slip up. ❛ what about you , huh ?   ❜ she's heard the rumors. had similar rumors about herself -- though never as damning. ( sure , she had some dalliances with princesses &* ladies , but she also fancied princes &* knights just as much. ) ❛ i'm sure you have a secret , long list of lovers.   ❜

#waehles #𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅. » no one can tell my story but me #i figured like .. your cinderella au ? but throw in forced marriage najsf #they can be beards for each other in the long run asnfkjnfsad

[shinystealingbirb]

long Aether headcanon coming up: how Aether absorbed each element thus far.

More under the cut please tell me your headcanons too I beg

Aether bonds with each element differently.

When he first placed his hand on Mondstadt’s statue, he is filled with overwhelming delight, as if he is six-winged and space-high, traveling wherever he may. He feels the wind settle in the unnatural hole in his chest, the one where his power should be.

He takes to Anemo immediately, as if it had always been part of him. Maybe it had- after all he is a shooting star, bound only, and vaguely, by gravity. He was freedom incarnate, held down by nothing.

Was.

Geo presents itself to him almost as easily, with its unmovable promises and steadfast loyalty. The element prickles as it enters him, almost icy in nature, and Aether feels urged to shrink away, as if the statue were a chiding teacher and he a misbehaving student.

He knows why. Since he can remember, he has only made one promise: to experience to universe in its entirety by her side. The promise is not broken, he reminds himself, cupping a gleaming orange stone in his hand, and the feeling eases. He wields Geo just as fiercely.

Aether is not prepared for the inazuman statue. The lightning charges through his very soul, tears apart muscle and bone on its way and leaves nothing untouched. So painful it is he cannot scream. It goes on for eons, his hand frozen against the statue, until quite suddenly Electro pulses strong and sharp in the space in his chest.

Eternity is a concept he is similarly well-adapted to and petrified of. Aether is an eternal being- nothing in this life or the next could bring his life to an end, no matter how many times he is dismembered. But the idea of living the same moment until the world dies makes nausea roll his stomach backwards. It is a cowardly, despicable thing, he thinks, and if the price my saying so is pain, so be it.

When he learns of the Twin, and how she died in the Shadow’s arms, he understands, and the lightning becomes malleable in his scarred hands.

Sumeru provides a wonderful reprieve for him, hesitant though he is to touch the statue. Knowledge is a thing sought desperately by all, craved and hoarded and traded more commonly than currency. It is universal. But the delicate cycle of life and death, the one Aether defies, hinders him, and Dendro becomes a struggle to learn.

He only fully understands as Greater Lord Rhukkatevahta’s shadow vanishes, leaving her other half utterly alone. Dendro becomes a bitter element to use, and he does not like to use it.

Aether is careless when he approaches the fifth Archon’s statue. The childish display of theatrics he was greeted with was infuriatinf, and the people’s loose opinions further disgust him. Such flippancy, especially at a the distinction of truth and perjury, should not be the norm, and with this irritation occupying his mind he forgets to be wary.

He touches the statue.

It is pain beyond the Inazuman storms, beyond what Teyvat has thrown at him thus far. It is bursting organs, drowning lungs, rushing blood, as if his skin has split to allow his being to spill out on the ground for all to see. As if he can feel every inch of his body swelling and splitting apart and he is drowning in his own blood.

It is only over when he hears Paimon.

“Aether, you are in Fontaine with Paimon. You are in Teyvat. Paimon needs you to breathe. When you can, please say something…”

She repeats it over and over, chanting in her squeaky voice, and Aether finds it is not in the syllables of Teyvat. She speaks in his home language, and it is just enough to pull him out. He grasps onto her voice like an anchor and wakes.

His body gives out, crumpling upon the pristine flagstones, and he cannot find it in himself to stand. His body feels so very heavy, and the fifth element weighs down upon his bursting chest like a bad omen.

What will the next element feel like?

#aether #genshin Aether #genshin impact Aether #genshin traveler #traveler #Anemo #geo #electro #dendro #hydro #headcanon #genshin headcanon #mentions of blood #many deaths #eldrich!aether #I am MAKING this a tag #i thought of this in the shower #aetherial

[give-soup-please]

How about the Narrator is like a guardian angel, I really liked that, it seemed interesting. And I bet that you'll turn it into something amazing

Guardian Angel Narrator (platonic or romantic)

(one potential idea for an AU. Dunno if I like the way this one turned out, but here we go.)

He doesn’t think much of his job. Everyone has an assigned purpose, and his is to protect his charge- whoever it may be.

He’s been here since the start of human civilization, when humans gathered together and created the idea of divine protection. 

He’s bored, mostly. He watches the cycles of civilization roll like a spinning wheel. Creation, uprise, downfall, destruction. The same four, over and over again.

Heaven and hell are such bureaucracies, demanding petitions for miracles and curses be formed in triplicate.

He drifts from assignment to assignment, doing the bare minimum. He’s utterly disinterested. 

His last assignment dies, a 90 year old woman who ran a knitting group and did charity bake sales for her church. He gently guides her on, seeing her to her eternal reward. He can act professional, at any rate. 

He gets a memo from the head office, and you’re next on his list. You’re a slightly more interesting case. Your original guardian angel was… dispatched by a rogue demon. That was rare. 

His eyebrows keep climbing as he reads more into your spiritual history. You’re being fought over. Both sides are very invested in you, for one reason or another. He’ll have to keep an eye out. Something interesting is bound to happen with your life.

He carries his tools. A sword, a book, and his voice. He takes his place at your side, and begins to do what he’s been doing for thousands of years. He takes a polite disinterest in you.

Months go by, and slowly, he finds himself more drawn to you. You have a good heart. A rare treasure, in this world. You smile, despite your suffering. You do your best to help friends, despite the fact that no one is helping you.

You’re soft. You’re sweet. You’ve been through so much, yet your soul remains mostly untarnished. 

Evil surges around you constantly. He wards off spiritual attacks again and again, and does his best to gently guide you away from bad people without his influence being noticed. 

He appears in many ways. ‘Instinct’, ‘intuition’, ‘thin slicing’. It’s that strong voice inside you. Like yours, but more powerful.

Every time you choose to do the right thing, he celebrates. Odd. He’s never felt so good about doing his job before. 

A lot of his power is derived from the desire to help you. He’s never been so strong in his entire career.

It’s so gradual, he doesn’t notice himself doing it. He starts standing guard at your bed, warding off nightmares to the best of his ability. Sometimes you’ll see an unknown figure in your dreams, shining brightly.

He begins reading to you from his book. Your ears can’t hear him, but your soul can. Those random moments of complete peace you’re feeling, that’s because of his voice. Your soul settles, and the rest of your body follows.

He’s getting more and more frustrated by his limitations. He’s fed up with the paperwork, the reports, the general stinginess of heaven. Can’t they see how valuable you are? You were precious, an utter rarity in a bleak world. He needs more resources, but heaven is all about maintaining a celestial balance! It’s sickening. 

He begins having visions. He looks up and sees strings. Golden bands of light, all attached to him. He can see through them, but they are definitely there. He’s chained. He couldn’t see it until now.  

His protectiveness grows. He watches over you at parties, making sure no one slips anything into your drink. He keeps you company on your commute, whether to work or school. You don’t get in car accidents. 

He’s received another memo. Something life changing is about to happen, and not in a positive way. The higher ups are claiming it’s for your character development, that you need to grow in order to fulfill your purpose.

He marches right up to his manager, absolutely furious. “This is ridiculous!” He shouts. “They’ve been through enough. I’ll not stand by while they get hurt, I won’t allow it.”

Management makes it clear. He needs to stand back and let it happen, or he’ll be punished. Several threats are made. Everything from having his wings stripped to casting him out entirely. 

He’s quelled. For now. The weeks slip by, and the horrible thing is almost upon you. He snarls and curses his lot, but there isn’t much he can do. He can’t- He can’t-

You’re so lovely, so deserving of a better fate than this. He can’t stand by. 

You’re about to get damaged, in the name of some divine plan. Without thinking about what he’s doing, the narrator raises his sword and cuts the chains that had been binding him.

Time freezes for a few moments. You can see him. He hasn’t had time to shield his true form. You see a mighty figure, tall, with wings. He’s beautiful. He’s terrifying. You turn and run, narrowly avoiding that terrible fate. 

You run back to your apartment, shutting and locking the door. A throat clears gently behind you. 

“I don’t suppose ‘be not afraid’ is too much of an ask?” You whip around to see him standing there, sheepishly.

You should call for help. You should be afraid. You should be panicking. But you’re not seeing him in his full glory now. The wings are there, but he’s not shining brightly enough to hurt. 

His wings are beautiful. Iridescent, reflecting light off into different colors. 

“We’ve met..?” It’s a half question, half statement. You recognize him, but you’ve never seen him. You stay very still, waiting for him to make the first move, to see if he’s a threat.

He takes one step forward slowly, as if trying to avoid spooking an anxious animal. “I’ve been watching you from a distance for so long. It’s been insufferable. I- I’m free to do as I wish now, and… Heh- The only thing I can think of doing is to help you as much as I can.”

You saw the chains he broke. “...You don’t look fallen.”

He glances at his body. His wings are still white, his robe perfectly ironed, nothing has changed. “Yes- Well. Obviously I’m not.” He hadn’t even thought about what would happen afterwards. He was that focused on making sure you weren’t hurt. 

You smile. “Congrats on the new freedom. I’m guessing you weren’t allowed to talk to me before?”

He can talk to you. You can hear him. The narrative binds have been cut. “Oh, it was dreadful. Imagine spending all this time with someone you like, and being unable to do anything major to help. I’ve watched you struggle and suffer so much…”

He takes another step closer, and you’re not shying away. It’s a good sign.

“So… Now what are we going to do?” You ask. “This is major. What’s going to happen to you? To me? Angels are real, and I’ve somehow landed myself with a dedicated one.”

He preens at the word ‘dedicated’. “Obviously, life will continue as it always has, you just have another resource. Don’t worry about you getting in trouble, it was my c-choice.” His voice wobbles a bit at the last word. He’s free. He’s finally free.

The two of you can have proper conversations now. He doesn’t have to file paperwork, he can just make things happen. No one can control him now. He’s going to make you happy, to make up for all the times he couldn’t help.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have each other. I intend on doing my job to the fullest. I will protect and guide you. It is my duty, and my pleasure, to be by your side until the end.”

Well, that was both concerning and flattering. “Are you sure about this? Don’t you want a life outside of… me?”

He’s genuinely confused. “What for? I’ve seen enough of the world. It isn’t- You’re one of the few things here worth serving. No, no, no, I’m quite sure about this.”

Life goes on. The days are brighter. You’ve always got company when you ask for it. He reads from his book on request during sleepless nights. You’re so glad he decided to break himself out of heaven’s control.

He’s not fallen, he’s just come a little closer to neutral ground.

#the narrator x reader #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp #headcanon #answered ask #stanley parable #narrator #tsp narrator x reader #could be read as platonic or romantic

[lcs-library]

After much procrastination, I can now say that acting angels are officially a couple!!!!

Lucille carefully cracked open the door to the theater, glancing over the dimly lit house until her eyes met the ones of another on the stage.

“Hi, Saku!” She greeted cheerfully, not even thinking to be quiet despite the late hour.

“Oh! Hey, Lu!” Sakuya returned, sitting up on his futon.

Lucille ran down the aisle towards the stage, smiling giddily while her bedding bounced in her arms. She bounded on top of the stage, setting her things down.

“Where are the others?” She asked, spreading out her futon.

“Pretty much everyone except for Citron cancelled,” Sakuya replied, disappointed.

“Seriously?! That’s so lame!”

“I know! It’s strange that they’d all turn down something like this.”

“Maybe. Wanna just wait for Citron for now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

With that, silence was cast upon them as they awkwardly sat for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what to do in this situation. That was, until Sakuya’s phone vibrated, startled the two of them. He picked it up, only for his face to fall.

“It’s from Citron,” he said, defeated.

“Oh?”

“He says he won’t be able to make it, either. Apparently the mahjong club is having a tournament tonight.”

“Really?” Lu’s brow furrowed, “I didn’t hear anything about that.”

“Me either,” Sakuya added, “maybe it was a surprise or something?”

“Maybe.”

The silence fell once more. The two actors stared anywhere but the other’s eyes, trying and failing to ease the tension, even if they’d been alone together around a thousand times.

Lu fixed her bedding. Sakuya flipped through his script. Neither of them wanted to admit something they both knew now was the right time for.

Finally, Lu sucked in a breath and spoke.

“Saku?”

Said boy perked up.

“There’s something I should tell you,” she said shyly, her volume lowering.

Sakuya’s eyebrows shot up. This was his chance. Sure, it may not have been his original plan, but if it was what he thought it was, he might as well give it a go, right?

“Me too, actually.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wanna go first, or should I?”

“What about at the same time?”

“Sure, that works,” Lu agreed, wringing her hands in anticipation, “on the count of three?”

“Yeah. Are you ready?”

Lu nodded.

“Three, two, one…”

“I love you,” they said in unison.

Lu’s eyes widened. Sakuya’s did the same.

“I love you,” they repeated, again perfectly in sync.

Sakuya stared at her in disbelief.

“You mean, like, as more…than friends?” He asked.

“Do you?”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“Me too:”

Another bout of silence, this one even more nerve-wracking than the previous two. Questions swarmed in their heads, ones of “what now?” and “do they really mean that? To me?”

“You know, I did actually have a whole confession planned,” Sakuya stated.

“Can I see?” Lu begged.

“I mean, it’s already over with, so it wouldn’t really do much.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear it.”

Sakuya felt his face heat up, suddenly utterly and completely embarrassed about what he had planned for weeks.

Eve still, he summoned his courage, took a deep breath, and stood up, guiding her to a seat in the front row of the theater before he stepped back onto the stage.

“My portrait: Sakuya Sakuma.

“When I was a kid, both of my parents died, leaving me to be tossed between homes. During that time, my only goal was to make myself small, to be inconvenient. I didn’t want to bother them more than I already had. Even then, I was seen as a nuisance, and I had to try every day to make them keep me. They’d pretend their love was unconditional, but we all knew the truth. The second I became a burden, it was on to the next house and the cycle began again.

“I never really had an escape from that constant fear, no matter how many friends I stayed with. That was what theater became for me. A way to let myself go, to be someone else for a bit and not worry about those pressures. That riverbank became my own little world, where only I could exist.

“That was until you came along. You sat in my world for a bit, listening to my stories. Maybe you thought I couldn’t see you, maybe you didn’t. Either way, you gave me a little bit of hope that somebody out there wanted to hear what I had to say, even if it wasn’t really me saying those words. I wish we talked back then. I wish you could have known what that meant to me.

“And then you joined Mankai, and all of those feelings grew stronger. I got to hear your stories and I wanted to listen forever. I still do. And I hope you feel the same.

“But most of all, through all this, I found out one thing.”

It was here that he stepped off of the stage, stopping right in front of Lu’s eyes to take her hand in his.

“I love you.”

There was no applause, only a light gasp from Lu. How does one respond to something like that? She closed her eyes, searching for her words.

“Thank you. You already know my response.”

Sakuya chuckled lightly.

“I do.”

He gently lifted her hand to his face, kissing her knuckle. His lips were warm, warmer than she could have imagined, not to mention the way their hands interlocked, as if they were made for each other. For once, the silence was comfortable, welcome, even.

Sakuya led Lu up to the stage to join him, sitting with her.

“So, now what?” She prompted.

“I… I don’t know,” he replied.

“Me neither.”

A pause.

“Do you want to sleep on it?” He asked.

“Yeah, let’s just do that for now.”

Lu moved her futon to be side-by-side with her love’s, climbing under the blankets as Sakuya did the same. Rolling over, the two faced each other.

“Good night, Saku. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he repeated, taking her hand under the covers. She smiled, closing her eyes to join him in slumber.

#the noise I made writing the moment towards the end…. ough….. #there’s a ton of random trivia for this fic that I’ll post tomorrow!!!! yay!!!! #fanfiction #yume time #acting angels #tbh this. isn’t well written but it’s here!!! I don’t care what you think!!!

[its-rat-time-babey]

An idea for the Artificer:

[this is basically a part 2 of this post]

I was thinking more about the Artificer and now I have an idea that goes along with these headcanons.

What if the Artificer had their own version of the Saint’s powers, but opposite. The Saint can ascend creatures with their high Karma, while the Artificer can essentially descend creatures or lock them further into the cycle using her extremely low Karma.

The Artificer attempts to ascend after killing the Chieftain Scavenger, can’t because she’s permanently bound to the cycle, almost becomes an echo but just barely avoids it and returns from the void with powers stemming from that permanent binding and new understanding of the universe from being dipped in hyper-acid.

Death Cycles are alternate timelines. When a creature dies, it’s consciousness creates a new timeline starting at the beginning of the current (time) Cycle. I already made a whole post for my headcanons on how the cycle works, but it can be easily explained by this graph:

The Artificer can’t undo ascension, as ascension involves the creature in question completely and utterly ceasing to exist, but she can take a creature that has died during the current cycle and using her own extreme, unbreakable connection to the cycle, basically drag or copy its consciousness back to the timeline it died in, bringing the creature back to life from everyone else’s perspective.

I’d also imagine that, if used against a living creature, it would probably strip away any karma the creature has and drop them down to low Karma, possibly even locking the creature at low Karma for several cycles.

I can see this power being used in two ways in an actual game:

1. On yourself

After death in a cycle (even after hearing the two dings that signifies a real death), you can choose to revive yourself. When respawning like this, you glow red and an echo effect appears around you for a second, a bit like how the Saint comes back from ascending glowing gold with an echo effect around them. Respawning like this would also temporarily knock out nearby creatures like being near an echo, just so you don’t instantly die again or come back to life inside a Lizard’s mouth.

If you are off-screen in a lizard den or fell down a bottomless pit or were eaten by a DLL or Worm Grass (no body left behind) you’ll appear on the nearest safe surface on the screen in a burst of that same red and echo ripples.

Once you use your power this way, it takes a full cycle to recharge, so you can use it once every two cycles. You can’t revive if you die from the rain because you will just die again instantly.

2. On Others

You can summon a symbol identical to the Saint’s, but red and with the Karma One symbol in the middle instead of Karma Ten. When you aim this symbol on the corpse of a tamed lizard, slugpup or other player if you’re playing Co-Op, you can bring them back to life. Other players will lose one karma when brought back to life like this.

You can use your power this way once per creature, per cycle. So you can bring a slugpup back to life once, but then need to wait for the next cycle to do it again.

You can also probably bring back other creatures like vultures too but I don’t know why you’d want to do that. Some limits would be that you can’t bring back a creature that’s been fully eaten by a carnivorous slugcat, just like the Wolf Spider’s revival powers, and you obviously need a body to revive, so no revival if they fall down a bottomless pit or get eaten by a pole plant or anything like that.

Also, this power would still almost perfectly contrast the Saint.

The Saint basically has a kill button that instantly removes creatures from the cycle.

The Artificer has a revival function that drags a creature back to the Artificer’s current cycle.

The Saint is a pacifist that can’t harm creatures, but they have the power to instantly kill any creature.

The Artificer is a being of extreme violence who causes death everywhere they go, but they have the power to revive people.

The Saint can ascend others, but not themselves, no matter how much they want to.

The Artificer can revive others, but by the time she got her powers, she has no one to use them on but herself. Her pups are already long dead beyond her ability to revive things, and that’s assuming she can find their bodies after countless cycles of brutal rainfall.

#rain world #rain world downpour #the artificer #rain world spoilers #headcanons #ideas

[volturialice]

ok I wasn't gonna do this twilight advent thing because y'all know I'm Not Great at consistent participation but if it's Jasper's Hobbies Day I obviously have to weigh in so here goes

listen. the important thing to keep in mind about jasper is that he's boring. he's soooooooo boring. he has all the tastes and proclivities of a middle-aged dad. just utterly bland dadcore taste in everything. I have this little remix snippet of one of @goldeneyedgirl's human alice/vampire jasper stories where even in human!teen!alice's wildest, horniest fantasies she can't imagine him as a peer or cool fellow teen and instead casts him as a 45-year-old nerdy professor.

which is what makes SUCH a hilarious contrast with his anything-but-boring background of violence and drama. he's kind of a jon snow-esque character in that his skills do not at all line up with his desires. by age 25 or so his only real want is to be Left Alone and yet life will not stop putting him in Situations. even when he manages to escape the cycle of violence, he ends up brother to the Main Character and husband to the World's #1 Meddler And Architect of Situations. even if alice were not an irrepressibly active person who loves nothing more than Doing Things, she's so overpowered that she creates international political incidents just by existing. jasper will never truly know a moment's peace and that's so funny and delightful.

but when he does get a moment's peace, here's what he'd like to do with it:

I agree with the canon/fanon that he's into scholarly pursuits like philosophy and history. I think history-wise he often overlaps rosalie's interest in technological history, because he blinked and missed the entire industrial revolution. I mean, he went from being human during a time without indoor plumbing to rejoining society around the time of stuff like the Space Race and the development of nuclear weapons! that's bound to pique anybody's interest. the rate of technological development is so much faster now! I can see him spending long hours talking with rose about robotics and space exploration and the future of green energy. I think he likes the logistics side of engineering because of the emphasis on efficiency and elegant solutions.

he's also happy to take all the Crime hobbies from carlisle. a whole new area of strategy where he gets to pull out all the stops and use his intimidation skills but doesn't even have to kill anyone!! what a rollicking good time.

I also agree with the fanon that as a human, jasper was a total Horse Girl who liked animals. as a vampire I can see that manifesting as an interest in conservation and biodiversity, or sustainable agriculture.

also as a human, he's very into athletic pursuits. his natural talent is for team sports and even coaching, but his interests lie more in the direction of stuff like swimming and climbing and martial arts—anything with a big emphasis on self-discipline and improvement.

in terms of the cullen family dynamic, his extreme patience means he's also voted #1 Most Likely To End Up Helping Other People With Their Hobbies. esme needs a hand with construction or renovation? he's there. rosalie needs someone to stand around and act as a car jack for hours? that's a jasper task (emmett would be her first choice except that he always gets bored and ends up trying to distract and seduce her, which inevitably works.)

the only people who can ever really coax jasper out of the dadcore mold are alice and especially emmett. emmett is a veritable genius for tapping into jasper's secret petty side. he can transform that jaded ex-war criminal nerd into a stupid goofy teenage oaf in 3.5 seconds, usually by goading him into some kind of competition. whenever they invent new games like Emmett And Jasper Ultimate MegaChess together, jasper tries to focus on developing a complex system of rules and emmett provokes him to smash right through them and play. ditto when it comes to things like pranking edward (pranks involve a lot of strategy and skill ok. they're totally a mature grown-up activity!!)

I think when he and alice first joined the cullens, jasper had lowkey forgotten how to have hobbies and considered them frivolous. until he saw how much joy and fulfillment alice got out of her hobbies and realized he'd better find some of his own or he was gonna feel lost and clingy. luckily for him these megarich vampires who never sleep have nothing but time and resources on their hands, and were happy to help him find some!

#jasper hale #meta #jalice and rosemmett if you squint #long post //

[feedingtheflockministry]

The Struggle with Self-Condemnation

By Jennifer Waddle

The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholds him with His hand. (Psalm 37:23-24 NKJV)

Shame is one of the biggest deterrents of a Christian’s freedom in Christ. Self-condemnation holds people back from living, serving, and enjoying the abundant life Jesus offered. When we mess up, we feel like we are bound by our mistakes and unable to truly move past them.

But the Bible reminds us that when we fall, we are not utterly cast down. The Lord upholds us with His hand. His grace is sufficient, for when we are weak, His power is made perfect. (2 Corinthians 12:9) So, why do we struggle with self-condemnation?

Every chance he gets, the adversary comes in and shoots his arrows deep into our minds so that we are reminded of past shame and regret. In turn, this cycle of condemnation keeps us bound by failure, unable to live in the glorious freedom given us by Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Dear fellow believers, this should not be! The Bible reassures us that when we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive. (1 John 1:9) And again, in Isaiah, chapter 43, the Lord says,

“I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions for My own sake;

And I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43:25 NKJV)

If God, who is all-knowing, can forget our sins, why do we hang on to them and let them condemn us over and over again?

Take heart today. Your sins, once the color of scarlet, have been washed clean—white as snow. There is now no condemnation for you in Christ Jesus. Put on the full armor of God so that when the arrows of the enemy come, (and they will), you will be ready to deflect them straight back at him. It is time to rise up and say “no” to Satan’s lies. And, it is time to begin living the amazing, abundant life Jesus offered.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

#scriptures #bible teaching

[hawkepockets]

Hello I am secretly Zelda Lore Nerd and I must know your thoughts on like. The story progression and plot beats and how it's all put together in Twilight Princess because I've only ever watched playthroughs I haven't played it myself and I'm invested in your liveblogging of this now.

omg hi yaaaaaan

^ u n me rn

ok so im ONLY on the death mountain dungeon right but so far in terms of story structure & level design i love this game. i feel like it hits a real sweet spot of being a little perplexing but never punishing yk like u get to use your noggin but it’s easy to progress.

like i mentioned already i LOVED the tutorial ramping you up for a horseback adventure to hyrule castle as a human guy with a sword & slingshot and the power of speech only to take it all away with the wolf transformation and hurl you directly to the twilit castle so the journey you were promised is instantly fulfilled, and stolen, and given back much harder, darker, more complicated.

you haven’t spent much time with/as link atp but it HITS like. his screentime as a guy has been so well spent in establishing his relationship with ordon village, both animals & people, and hyping you up for him to prove himself and see the world in a way that he then isn’t allowed to. the transformation feels authentically violating—it’s fun to play as the wolf, but the first time you try to talk to a familiar npc and they scream, or to open a door and find it’s an unnavigable barrier to you in this form, the realization that just as link doesn’t know how to move through the world in this body, you don’t know how to move through the game without most of the mechanics you just learned… like it hits it hits!

the spirit cleanse 🐺 -> dungeon 🧍 -> spirit cleanse 🐺 -> dungeon 🧍 pattern works really nicely. keeps things fresh, means you didn’t really waste your time in the tutorial, and also alternates the dimly lit, easier but utterly lonely wolf phases with the brighter, more social and challenging human phases in a way that characterizes the twilight itself as a threat imo? it’s melancholy, it’s peaceful, it consumes without killing, it’s vast and feels like a natural disaster… but it’s also easier to reverse than more mundane instances of greed, corruption, and violence. the motif of link with and without a community is repeated over and over. it’s yummy!!

i like that the dungeons seem to have their own characters beyond just the set dressings too. the forest temple felt a bit like a memory pair matching game with a lot of backtracking to previously explored rooms with new context for what you found in there. the goron mines seem to be a lot more timing based, with a lot of speed checks and, so far, more linear forward progress. so the elemental character of each region goes into like. what’s the most challenging quality of each dungeon, instead of just everything getting harder across the board. wood & air for flow, growth, renewal, return. metal & fire for enthusiasm, impulse, persistence, and rhythm. YUM!

midna of course is a nonstop delight. it’s not always clear when she’s available to help mechanically, like it took me forever to realize she’ll only warp during twilight phases, but that’s ok—i’ve never regretted hitting the button to talk to her extra times. (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ to me, she’s the perfect fusion of TP’s dark and silly elements. it was love from the first time she yanked on link’s ears and told him to be a good boy. um. mm. hhehe.

literally my only game design complaints are that the day/night cycle isn’t explained in game and isn’t very intuitive (time doesn’t pass in every map), and since it does determine enemy activity & merchant availability i feel like that shouldn’t be smth you have to ask reddit for… and on the wii soooo many things are bound to the A button, and the console is NOT good at interpreting which function makes the most sense for a given situation. it makes some tasks a lot harder than they should be. ah well. forgiveable!

#1 best feature without contest or dispute:

that’s my 2 cents up to this point!

#ellie gets into fucking zelda!