#but anyway he’s very important to me and has always been integral to my taste of music

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

A lot of mornings I wake up with my iPad right close to my face because I shuffled across the entire bed to get closer to Ozzy in my sleep and it makes me so soft to realise I love him and his music so much I even search for it in my dreams…🥺🥺🥺

#he puts a cosmic ache in my chest #my earliest and fondest memories involve Ozzy #he and black sabbath have been with me my whole life #knowing one day I’ll live in a world without him makes me grieve preemptively #parasocial relationships are fuckin wild dude #but anyway he’s very important to me and has always been integral to my taste of music #I put a lot of my sense of identity into music #being so in love I shuffle close in my sleep😭😭😭 #iPad up against the wall and me near the door #on the other side of the bed #but I cross the distance😭

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

supernova, m | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader, mentions of seokjin x reader

summary: Kim Taehyung is your best friend. Considering him as anything more was asking for a collapsed relationship. You two were just two points in the sky, side by side, always shining together. Stars aren’t meant to collide, right? 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (m-receiving oral, nipple play, fingering); non-idol!AU; supposed to be crack but, uh, I failed; yes there is a reference to that confused-lady-doing-math meme lol

--

You were having the stupidest argument of your life with your best friend.

“Obviously I know how to suck dick!”

Kim Taehyung nearly spit his soda everywhere.

“How the fuck,” he sputtered, coughing. “Would you ever know how to suck dick?”

You rolled your eyes. “Duh, I learned, of course.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows so high that they disappeared into his dark brown bangs. “From who? You kind of need a boyfriend to suck dick.”

“No, you don’t,” you retorted.

Taehyung blinked at you. “I can’t imagine who would let you within ten feet of their dick.”

You threw a pillow at his face. He punched it away as you fumed. “If you must know, I’ve been told I’m good at it.”

Taehyung snorted. He placed his soda farther away from you, afraid it was going to be spilled. “By who? Your delusions?”

“Wow, Tae, seriously?” You puffed your cheeks, glaring at him. “You’re being so mean about this. Don’t pretend you have any experience at all.”

Taehyung frowned at you. “I’ve had experience. What makes you think I haven’t?”

You made a face. “You literally only spend your time at my place or at Jimin’s and you definitely aren’t getting your dick sucked here.” You placed a hand over your eyes, scooting away. “I guess you guys are closer than I thought.”

Now Taehyung picked up the pillow and threw it at you. It bounced off your head.

“Jimin doesn’t suck my dick.”

“I mean, you literally just implied–”

Taehyung pushed you into the plushies on your bed, planting a cat one on your head. “Dumbass, I’ve obviously had other opportunities. I’m not a hermit like you.” He pelted you with a Shiba Inu plush as you struggled. “I actually go outside and socialize.”

You glared at him. “I socialize.”

“You play online games all day,” Taehyung shot back, getting off you. “That’s not socializing.”

“Seokjin-oppa comes over,” you muttered, slinging a turtle at him.

Taehyung caught it in the air. He gave you an odd look. You raised your eyebrows back at him. He slowly lowered his hand, narrowing his eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“I will call him right now,” Taehyung announced, pulling out his phone.

“No, you will not!” you roared, throwing yourself at him and knocking the phone out of his hand. It bounced on your lavender duvet. You planted your hand on it, halfway in Taehyung’s lap. “Ha!” Your other hand was on Taehyung’s thigh. You felt…

Something.

“What is that.” It wasn’t a question. The words just came out of your mouth automatically.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at you. “Wouldn’t you know since you have so much experience with the dick of Kim Seok–”

“Do not say it, Kim Taehyung,” you hissed, prodding him in the chest. “I will shut you up permanently. Also,” you added, hand still on his phone. “You shouldn’t be hard.”

Taehyung snorted. “You’re literally going on and on about sucking dick. Of course, I’m hard, you idiot.”

You pointed a finger at him. “It is not appropriate to get hard in front of your female best friend.”

“It is literally appropriate to get hard when you’re next to someone you think is hot and said person is suggesting they can suck pretty good dick.”

“It is absolutely no–” You cut yourself off this time. “Hold up. What did you just say?”

Taehyung’s deep voice seemed to get even deeper.

“I said, if you can actually suck dick, fucking prove it.”

You pulled your hand back, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not what you said.”

“I’m quite sure of what I said.” His expression was completely blank. The harsh overhead lighting of your bedroom seemed to make his dark eyes even darker.

You pointed an ice cream plush at him. “You also said you can’t imagine who would let me within ten feet of their dick.”

“I mean, I can’t imagine,” he said, shrugging. “But I know who would.”

This did not add up. You sat there, trying to do the math to see if it checked out. Which trigonometry equation would it be? Or algebra? An integral, maybe? Kim Taehyung wasn’t making any sense. He sat there, legs spread, obvious tent in his gray sweatpants, brown t-shirt barely covering it. But… why though? In all the years you’ve known him, Taehyung had never, ever asked to be more than friends. Never. In fact, he teased you all the time about how you never had a boyfriend.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re acting sus.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Are you smooth-brained or what?”

You held your hands up, backing away from him. “All I’m saying is, you’re contradicting yourself.”

Taehyung let out a puff of annoyed air. “I can’t believe you would pick Seokjin-hyung over me.”

You got off the bed to walk over to his soda to drink the rest of it. “He’s good-looking,” you said absentmindedly. “Not that anything specific happened between us or anything.”

“Stop pretending you didn’t fuck him.”

You nearly spit out the soda, coughing. “I only might have suc–”

His eyebrows raised.

“You know what, I don’t have to talk about it. I don’t.”

Taehyung’s mouth thinned to a line. “I’m way more handsome than he is.”

You put the cup down, wondering why you even bothered to drink the rest of that. It was already flat anyway with how heated this conversation was.

“You are handsome, Tae. I just assumed you didn’t want me asking you weird questions like, can I suck your dick?” You shrugged. “Because that would probably make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muttered. “Because I’m clearly comfortable right now with a raging hard-on and you admitting you sucked hyung’s dick.”

You chopped your hands in the air helplessly. “Look, you asked! I answered! What do you want, an apology?”

“An apology of you sucking my dick, yeah.”

You froze. Did he just–? It was the most childish thing you ever heard. Taehyung tucked his tongue in his cheek and glared at you. You were best friends. Best friends! Best friends don’t do that kind of stuff (right?). Best friends don’t think about each other like that (… right?). And you, well, the thing between Seokjin just sort of… happened. And maybe you had exaggerated a little. You weren’t as experienced as Taehyung. Even though you made fun of him, you knew Taehyung had more sexual encounters than you.

The girls around you always ended up gossiping about it.

You really were a hermit – you stayed home and played games, listening to music in your room. There weren’t any chances to do anything with anyone except for the few friends who visited you. And Seokjin was nice, patient. Just as nervous as you, afraid to make it too, er, overwhelming.

“Why… why are you mad?”

Taehyung looked down at the floor, sighing. “I don’t know.” He tilted his head, frowning. “It just pissed me off that you don’t trust me with something as important as that.”

“That’s not…” You paused, fiddling with the bottom of your purple pajama shirt. “If things got weird and Seokjin wasn’t my friend anymore, I would be sad.” His brown eyes slowly found yours as you spoke. “But… if you weren’t my friend anymore…”

You rubbed the back of your neck, not quite looking at him.

“I would be broken.”

He looked away from you too, to the fallen cat plush on the ground.

You chuckled nervously, sighing. “I don’t know if it would work. And I don’t want to ruin something that is already great with something that is just… my lack of confidence in being as cool as you.”

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and winced. “Cheesy.”

You twitched and picked up the cat plush, chucking it at him. It bounced off his head, making his hair fly everywhere. He didn’t move, staring at you. You hesitated. Ah, you shouldn’t have said anything at all. It should have just stayed a secret between you and Seokjin. But you always ended up telling Taehyung everything, one way or another.

Taehyung patted the spot next to him. You carefully walked over, measuring a very deliberate space between you two before sitting down. He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself.

“You wanna just kiss and see if it’s weird?” he asked suddenly.

“It’s gonna be weird, Tae,” you laughed nervously. “This whole conversation is weird.”

“Hm.” Slowly, slowly, he leaned over and placed his head on your shoulder. You didn’t move away, continuing to stare at your hands. “Eh. It’s fine if it’s weird, I think. All relationships start off weird.”

You snorted. “I don’t think any relationship starts off weirder than you figuring out I blew one of your friends, then getting mad about it, and somehow we–”

He cut you off because he kissed you.

His lips on yours, sweet like cola, that familiar scent you could always associate with him. The scent that lingered on your pillows after he left, the scent that clung to you after the two of you shared a bed, completely platonically. You always thought falling asleep next to Taehyung was comparable to two stars beside each other in the sky, impossibly far away despite being the closest objects in space together.

Nice to sparkle together, but impossible to be together.

Stars colliding made a supernova, which was amazing, but then collapse into a black hole – the part that worried you the most.

And yet.

You pressed back against him, breathing him in. Your hand came up and held the back of his head, not wanting it to end, his soft lips against yours, not even a hint of messy tongue or anything crazy, just his taste. Taehyung mouthed inaudible words against your lips and you pulled back a little, not even realizing how breathless you were.

“Is it…” he muttered, voice so deep it felt like your heart was vibrating. “Weird?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You chuckled, looking down at your lap. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Ah.” He didn’t move away from you. “Want to do it again?”

Even if it all eventually collapsed into a black hole… What if I live like that? You looked up, right into Kim Taehyung’s eyes, your best friend in the whole world and, even now, you didn’t know if it was going to work out, but, maybe in the off-chance, in the impossible, improbable probability that it did…

You leaned over and kissed him, arm around his neck, pushing him down onto your bed. He smiled into your kiss, his larger hands travelling up to your waist to hold you. Your eyes opened a little, just to see his dark brown hair against your sheets, his tan skin against the lavender color. Lashes so long and dark they made you jealous. He was usually on your bed, but this time was different. This time, he was in your arms like a lover, pulled into your gravity. You softly moaned into his mouth and his tongue slid between your lips, rubbing against yours. You played with it, sucking on it. He moaned back, grip on your waist tightening.

“Tae…”

You breathed against his lips, not wanting to back away too far. He opened his eyes, so heavy with lust you almost forgot what you were going to ask.

“I need you to move up a little,” you said apologetically. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Taehyung laughed. “Sure.”

You didn’t know how to tell him that you basically only learned how to suck dick when the guy lying down. But he didn’t ask, simply scooting up the bed before reaching for you and placing you on top of him. Normally, you scolded him for laying on your plushies, but at this point your mind was somewhere else.

“Better?” he purred, kissing your forehead.

“Y-yeah.” You got onto your hands and knees, nervousness flooding through you. Taehyung reached for your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. You blinked at him.

“You don’t actually have to suck my dick,” Taehyung chuckled. “I mean, if you don’t want to.”

You gave him a confused look. “Isn’t that why you were annoyed in the first place?”

Taehyung puffed his cheeks. “I was annoyed because you fucking sucked Seo–”

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “Not the time.”

He rolled his eyes at you. You kept your hand on his mouth as you slid down, glaring at him until you had to let go to get into position. He watched you with a raised brow. He balanced on his elbows, amused.

“Stop judging me.”

Taehyung grinned. “I’m not judging. Just viewing technique.”

You frowned and pushed his t-shirt out of the way.

“I can take it off.”

“Let me concentrate, you fool.”

Taehyung finally shut up. You kept telling yourself to just take off his pants. It was not that weird. It wasn’t like you hadn’t walked in on him changing before. But you had never seen Taehyung naked and, obviously, had never seen his cock. The tent in front of you was not as big as it was before, but all the girls ever talked about was…

You heard your name being called. You snapped your head up.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head at you.

“Y-yeah.”

“Sounding really confident there.”

You clicked your tongue. “Hmph.”

And you hooked your fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled down. Taehyung lifted his hips to help you and you were nearly smacked in the face with his cock.

“The fuck, Kim Taehyung?” Your eyes went wide as you bunched his pants around his knees. “The FUCK? Kim Taehyung?!”

Taehyung laughed. “What?”

“What?” you echoed, indignant. “Excuse me, sir, you tried to take out my eye with your dick and–” You pointed accusingly at his cock. “Um?”

“That’s not fully hard yet, yeah.”

Alright, it wasn’t like he was some Dragon Dildo cock but, still. You had a pretty small mouth (at least that’s what your dentist told you before he removed all four wisdom teeth, sigh). Taehyung rubbed his chin, sticking his tongue in his cheek.

“That’s why I said you don’t have to do it.”

You stiffened. “I mean… I can do it. I-it’s not like I can’t or anything.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Just don’t bite me.”

“Why the fuck would I bite you?”

“I’m just saying that’s not my kind of kink.”

“Just… shut up for a second.”

You furrowed your brow. It felt strange remembering Seokjin’s words to you now, but those were the only ones you knew. He told you to be gentle at first. You leaned forward, kissing the head softly. It felt warm and velvety against your lips. Just kisses, all up and down the length. You licked Taehyung’s balls lightly, using your hand to hold his cock out of the way. Taehyung’s eyes went wide as you ran your tongue over his balls, softly taking one in your mouth, bouncing it on your tongue.

“A-ah…”

You wrapped your hand around him to hold him in place, swirling your tongue around and around. You looked up at Taehyung. His eyelids were fluttering, groaning as you switched sides.

“F-fuck, normally they just go straight for the dick…”

You pressed your tongue flat and molded him to the crevices of your mouth, making him gasp and grab the sheets as you sucked hard. He made eye contact with you. Lips soft, mouth tight. Plenty of saliva. Slow, slow, popping your lips off.

“Just that was pretty impressive,” Taehyung panted, pulling his shirt up higher. You swallowed, inhaling sharply as you saw more of his torso. His skin was a lovely tan that accented his muscles and his cute bellybutton. You shook your head slightly, trying not to get distracted.

You pressed your lips just under the head, a soft chaste kiss. Your tongue slid out, running over the sensitive skin, saliva dripping down his cock as you looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, moaning hotly.

Seokjin didn’t teach you to do that. You were just enamored with Taehyung’s cock almost in your mouth.

Taehyung breathed your name, low and sensual.

You took him in your mouth, slowly, lifting and lowering your head as you went, lapping against the underside. Fit only what you’re comfortable with. Don’t stress about getting it all in. Lips loose, inside of the mouth tight. You went straight down, using gravity to your advantage. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was getting there, swelling in your mouth as you begun your pace, using his hips as leverage to hold yourself up.

“Right there.”

You paused, repeating your last movement. Rubbing your tongue against the bottom of the head, pressing his cock against the roof of your mouth. Taehyung’s voice was breathy, almost pleading.

“Down.”

You did so, keeping your tongue in place as you slide down, the head against the soft upper part of your throat. Taehyung moaned deliciously, hissing softly.

“F-fuck, that’s so good.”

You repeated the movement, bobbing your head up and down. Slow at first, but building up, gaining confidence. Spit slid down the length, pooling onto his balls.

“Ugh,” Taehyung grunted, clenching the sheets. “Your mouth is soft, but tight. Such a perfect combination.”

You couldn’t exactly respond. He wasn’t fully in your mouth, but you only focused on speed and precision of your pressure, making sure to squeeze the head as it pressed against your lips. You shifted, moving one of your hands to cup his balls, smearing the wetness everywhere. He sucked in a breath, setting his jaw.

“A-ack…”

You decided to try it. A moment of pause and then a slow, slow descent, all the way down. Relax your throat. Front tight, back loose to prevent yourself from gagging. The head hit the back of your throat and your heart jumped. Just a little more. Control. A little lower and your felt your throat tighten around the head. Oh fuck. You couldn’t breathe. But Taehyung was moaning your name so wantonly that you nearly forgot you were almost choking on his dick. You can do it. Slight, sharp ruts of your throat on the tip itself, making Taehyung jerk his head back and cry out in ecstasy.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, gasping down at you. “You have it all in your mouth.”

He sounded very impressed. You opened your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them, and winked at him. He laughed, shaking his head at you.

You had to pull back a little, conscious of your breathing as you regained sweet oxygen. You didn’t want to sound like you were dying, after all. Taehyung was about to say something, but you started up your fastest pace yet, bouncing up and down, not looking at him as you focused completely on your pressure control.

“A-ah, shit!”

You used both hands to hold yourself up as you bobbed, hyper focused on giving him a raw, wet, tight hole to slide into. For you, this was the easiest because gravity did half the work for you, adding to the speed and cutting half of the stress on your neck, which was occupied with ramming the head down your throat as you tightened your muscles even more, fingertips digging into his skin. You could taste it, the pre-cum leaking into your mouth. Those pathetic, muffled whimpers couldn’t be you, right? You flicked your eyes up to him. Taehyung was watching you, panting hard, pupils blown so wide that his doe eyes looked even bigger.

“Damn, you’re even hotter than I thought,” he choked out, groaning sharply. “I’m close, I don’t know if you want to swallow–”

You dug your nails into his hips, moving even faster, desperate for him to cum in your mouth. He whimpered himself, leaning his head back as a low moan tore from his throat, your name falling out so sweetly and deeply that you felt it in your soul as he came in your mouth, flooding it. You pulled back a little to give it space to collect as you swallowed, his cock jerking in your mouth. Three gulps and there was still a little left. You swept it with your tongue and Taehyung shivered under you as you swallowed that too, lingering. Your tongue gently coated him. You pulled back, centimeter by slow centimeter, teasing the tip with the end of your tongue. Taehyung whispered at the sensitivity, but you pressed your lips against the head, soft pressure at the very end until the tip popped out.

“Could you just…” Taehyung panted, one eye closing as he struggled to catch his breath. “Not be good at that?”

You grinned, straightening. “Oh? I did good?”

Taehyung gritted his teeth. “I have never thought a blowjob could be comparable to pussy until just now, holy fuck.”

You rubbed your jaw in a startlingly similar manner to his habit. “Think I’m gonna be sore.”

Taehyung gestured down to his cock, who was rapidly falling asleep. “You killed him. How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you now?”

You shrugged. “I like other things too.”

“I’m listening.”

You scratched your head. Shit. You haven’t actually expected Taehyung to want to reciprocate. It wasn’t that what you wanted was strange, but it felt embarrassing to ask him, because it was something you learned about yourself with someone else. Taehyung’s eyes were boring holes into you. He was silently commanding you to tell him right now or else.

“I have to make you cum,” he said softly. “Tell me how.”

A shiver ran through you. Your eyes shifted down to his hands and he lifted them from the bed, observing you curiously. His lips curled into a wide smirk. You glared at him and pulled your pajama shirt over your head so you didn’t have to look at his smug face. You straddled his legs, pulling yourself up to him. You were still wearing your underwear. You reached into the cups of your bra and pulled your breasts out right in front of his face. The bra still on your body pushed them together so your nipples stuck straight out. Taehyung licked his lips.

“A meal? For me?”

You puffed your cheeks and took the back of his head, pushing him towards your nipple.

“Lick.”

His brown orbs became mischievous. His pink tongue darted out, flicking your nipple. You sucked in a breath and grabbed one of his hands, pressing his middle finger on your other nipple, rubbing it in slow circles. Taehyung got the hint, licking one of your nipples as he played with the other with his fingers.

“Pinching?” he mumbled.

“Y-yeah…”

He pinched you lightly. You yelped, fingers tangling in his hair. Lightly constrained in your clothes, your nipples being played with. One more step. You reached down for his free hand and dragged it up your thigh, moaning as his knuckle brushed against your soaking wetness.

“Ah,” he purred, vibrating your nipple with his voice. “You like a triple assault.”

“Tae, just fucking finger me.”

He chuckled deeply, rubbing you though your panties. They sank into your folds. Your clit throbbed with need, desperate for attention as he rubbed the slopping wet fabric against it.

“I will,” he drawled, staring up at you. He rubbed harder, keeping pace with your nipple. “How many?”

“I-I don’t think you can fit more than two,” you gasped, grinding against his hand.

“Okay,” he purred, hooking a finger around your panties. Strings of your juices clung to his hand as he pulled the fabric to the side. “One first.”

You felt him slowly slide his finger into you, his lips pressed against your nipple as he did so, his eyes closing. Your breathing became shallow, pleasure snaking upwards.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so tight,” Taehyung breathed, licking your nipple in between his words. “So fucking wet.”

You clutched his head tighter as he pushed in and out of you, curling it slightly. You chopped his neck feebly.

“N-no, straight.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, but complied, straightening his finger and thrusting it into you. Oh, yes. You clenched around him, shoving your tits into his face as you wiggled your hips on his hand.

“Need m-more, Tae…”

He rolled his tongue around your nipple and sucked it hard, shoving another finger into you at the same time, making your cry out and squirm. You gripped the hand on your nipple, encouraging him.

“I got you, love.”

Your heart skipped two beats. And then he began to really finger-fuck you, driving them into you hard and fast, pinching your nipple and sucking on the other. Pleasure shot throughout your entire being, so drunk with lust that you leaned into it, spreading your legs to give Taehyung more space to move his arm, fuck you harder.

“Taehyung, oh, fuck, Tae...”

You felt eyes on you and you looked down, seeing Taehyung’s sharp brown orbs watching you, brows furrowed as you bucked on his hand, detaching his mouth as he whispers hotly into your chest.

“Fuck, I want to fuck your pussy so fucking bad,” he growled.

His eyes were so dark that you felt like you were falling into space, into his gravity, trapped. He pounded you his fingers into you harder, pinching and twisting your nipple. You were ready to fall apart, gasping and moaning so much that your throat was dry.

“Can you take one more?”

“I-I don’t know…” you whimpered. “So f-full…”

He chuckled. “I have a big dick, remember?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip. “O-okay, do it.”

Slow, slow. His third finger buried itself into you and you squeezed your eyes shut, gasping as you felt him began pace again. Your nipples were extra sensitive now, making your body shiver as he touched them again. Just a little more…

“Tae,” you gasped, “Go as hard and fast as you can.”

“You sure?” Even just the feeling of his lips brushing against your nipple had you trembling.

“Yes, do it.”

He wrapped his lips around your nipple before ramming his fingers into you, tearing a plea of his name from your throat as he fingered you roughly, almost like a fucking vibrator. Oh, fuck. If Seokjin was in the back of your mind, he quickly vanished as Taehyung pounded you, forcing you to take it all, spreading you out as you saw stars in your peripheral vision. He didn’t hold back and you didn’t want him to, squeezing his fingers as they entered you, pressing his head down on your breasts. Everything tightened inside you, so close to the edge that you could smell your juices dripping onto his lap.

“Tae, fuck, I’m so fucking close, a-ah…”

He sucked on your nipple, hard, pinching and twisting the other and it pushed you over, crying out as everything snapped suddenly, pleasure racking through your entire body as your pussy throbbed around his hand. You nearly sank down, Taehyung’s hands the only things keeping you up as you buried your face in his hair, gasping for air.

“Careful,” Taehyung murmured, pulling his fingers out, sticky and covered in your juices. He looked at his fingers for a moment before shoving them in his mouth.

“T-Tae!”

He made eye contact with you as he licked them off slowly and purposefully, moaning lustfully around them. Your pussy throbbed with need at the sight of his pink tongue slurping up the glistening liquid.

“Mmm, delicious.”

You felt your ears turn red and you climbed off him, righting your underwear before flopping onto the bed. Taehyung laid down next to you, pulling up his pants.

“Give me a couple hours and I’ll rail you with my dick.”

“Wow, that’s so romantic.”

Then came the awkward moment. The one where you stared at your pillows and squashed plushies, realizing what you had just done, realizing that you couldn’t turn back now. The stars had collided. Now what? The black hole? You didn’t look at Taehyung. You couldn’t.

He said you name, softly.

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t being serious. You’re a virgin, right?”

You shifted your eyes. “Erm…”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“I’m gonna kill Seokjin-hyung.”

“No, Tae–”

 --

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x you #v x reader #v x you #v smut

[ultraimaginez]

What’s In a Name - [Diavolo x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me!

Character: Diavolo

A/N: This is honestly more of a character study of Diavolo being soft than anything else. I just love one (1) future demon king who just wants to be included god damn it. Please someone let Diavolo be a part of the gang. Anyway this has now inspired me to write more Diavolo content so send an ask if you have suggestions lol

_________________________________________

An honorific can be such a powerful and yet profoundly lonely thing.

It’s been a long time since anyone has addressed Diavolo without putting the word “Lord” before his name. His lordship is just as much a part of who he is now as any other bit of him. Even his two closest friends address him as “Lord Diavolo” -- and before the exchange program that truly didn’t feel all that odd. It was simply the way things were.

And then you arrived...

________________________________________

Diavolo does his best to be diplomatic and levelheaded in his day to day interactions, but he’s just as much a demon prone to his vices as any other. Watching the way you so casually interact with the brothers of House Lamentation stirs envy in his gut and reminds him of his own isolation in a way he hasn’t felt for a very long time.

He’s always wanted what Lucifer had with his brothers-- that closeness with another person. An intimacy greater than lust, one built on a casual closeness and unspoken understanding that you seem to fall into so naturally. 

He notices it in little ways. 

It’s the way Levi embraces your physical proximity in a way he’s never seen him do with any other person in all the centuries he’s known him. It’s the way Asmodeus, who has purposely never invited him to one of his parties, makes a point to involve you in every single thing he does. It’s the way Mammon goes out of his way to give to you after a lifetime in the devildom of withholding everything he can get his hands on.

If Diavolo is being honest he can’t really tell who he’s actually jealous of. It’s difficult to pinpoint whether he’s envious of you, who has formed a connection with these boys in less than a year when he hasn’t been able to in literally millennia. Or maybe he’s envious of them, who have developed this casual  closeness with you he could never have.

Well, at least he thinks he could never have that.

________________________________________

But you don’t seem to be privy to the unspoken rules that surround Lord Diavolo, and if you are then you certainly don’t seem to care. 

The first time you call him by a nickname he’s almost positive Lucifer is about to fly into his demon form and murder you.

You walk into his office where he’s been chatting with Lucifer and make yourself at home in one of the seats across from his desk. “Hey! What’s good, D-man? Do you have a sec? I’ve got a question.”

He has to physically throw up a hand into Lucifer’s chest to stop him from ruining what might be the first taste he’s had of the sort of relaxed friendliness Lucifer gets to see every day.

The eldest brother is still snarling as he seems to barely register Lord Diavolo’s hand. “MC. I’ve told you. It’s L-”

Diavolo cuts Lucifer off with a look and the black haired demon just stares at him with a look of equal parts confusion and irritation.

“For you? I’ve got several seconds.” He beams at you and then move to lean across the desk. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks, completely ignoring his friend who he can now tell has gone from seething, to confused, to something altogether unreadable. He doesn’t think about it too long though as all of his attention turns to you.

________________________________________

And he assumes that this will (unfortunately) be a one off incident since there’s no way Lucifer did not freak out on you the second the two of you were back home.

He is pleasantly surprised to find that it is not.

At first it feels strange to hear himself referred to anything other as Lord Diavolo but as time goes on you seem to make a game of coming up with as many absurd names as possible. D, D-man, Diav, DD, Volvo, Volvo XC90, Volvo S60... (at some point they just sort of devolve into you trying to name as many makes and models of Volvo cars as you can.) And it makes Lucifer furious which is honestly half the fun. Because for once he’s a part of the inside joke. He knows how it must feel to be one of the brothers. He is a part of the inner world of the House Lamentation instead of being the source of conflict within it.

And he knows that if it were anybody else that this would be an attempt at mockery-- and he wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down. Everyone in the Devildom knows what he’s capable of, even you despite the fact that you willfully ignore it. 

But there is a profound difference when you call him a nickname because it’s never at his expense. He can tell you’re trying to make him smile-- and it works. 

You are so genuine, so authentic, it’s almost hard for him to take. He has been so used to bureaucracy for so long and his goals of unity have overshadowed the importance of genuine connection for himself. You remind him why is dream is worth achieving...

________________________________________

His dream is worth it for the moments like the one he’s having now, where you sit across from him in his office and rattle on about your classes. These “meetings” had started as an excuse for him to “get a better idea of how you were integrating into the school” but now they happen every single day and there’s no way he can continue to operate under the pretext that they’re for the exchange program when he literally does not do this with anybody else.

 “-and then in potions class I was working on my assignment and you’ll never guess what Mammon did! He literally just-” you spastically flail your arms simulating your earlier experience “freaks out because he was checking his phone and realized he lost a shit ton of money on some stupid sports gambling app and knocks ALL my ingredients into the cauldron at once so then KABOOM! It goes everywhere! ........ hey.... are you even listening to me?? Yo! Earth to Diavolo? Come in, Diavolo...”

He shakes himself out of his own inner monologue and smiles at you, laughing and trying to make his brain and heart and everything else catch up on the same page again. “Sounds like classic Mammon.” He says and he watches as your skeptical glance in his direction softens again.

“Well you’re NEVER going to guess what happened next-”

_____________________________________

He wonders if you’re aware of the impact you’ve had on everyone around you or if you’re just naively altering their world without much thought about it at all. He guesses it’s the latter. You don’t seem to see the effect you have on him or the brothers. 

Maybe that’s for the best. 

He’s not sure he could put his gratitude for the small moments you share into words. In part because he does not have the words to do so, and in part because he could never bring himself to be that vulnerable. But he knows that Barbatos and Lucifer can see it. They don’t say anything-- probably because they care too deeply for him to see him struggle through articulating what’s on his mind-- but it’s clear to everyone but you. 

You’ve managed to give the Future King of the Devildom a reprieve from his isolation when no one else could.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #Obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #lord diavolo #fics #0-2k #my work

[unkownknowledge]

OC: CHAOS GOD OF THE VOID, GIOTA

story I'm still working on your requests don't worry, I just wanted to make a few character sheets since I'm not focused enough rn. I'll finish it when I take my meds though I promise.

And this isn't an oc for any show, rather a character from a multiversal mythos I'm making

also, an important term to understand this: 1 god year=5 billion years

_____________________

Description:

Giota is a very hot and cool Giota stop changing the text! Atleast change your style of writing so the reader can undead immediately Aw but wheres the fun GIOTA

Fine mister fun police, I'll write like this then. And I'll be cooler than you

Young man I wil... forget it, back on track:

Giota is a shapeshifting god of chaos, void, technological progress, freedom, and being a dramatic bitch.

Hey! I'm not a bitch!....maybe a little

When appearing before mortals he'll often take on the form the viewer imagines when they think of a god of chaos would appear as. Often times when the user knows the basic descriptions of Giota from the 'book of tales' will see him as a angel like statue of bones with numerous cracks, no face, and organ pipe wings.

When meeting with gods outside his domain or when he must meet mortals in a set form, he will take on simple, 10ft tall humanoid form with bone skin, a cracked mouth that cracks more when he speaks, two different colored eyes, and longer than floor length black hair. One of his eyes will be crying water that burns upwards, while the other cries fire that flows downwards. In this form he wears a black trenchcoat, green turtleneck, and purple dad pants.

What the fuck are dad pants?

You know, those usually brown pants that are kinda jeans but soft and actually comfortable.

YOU BITCH MY HUSBAND LIKES JEANS AND HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

YOUR HUSBAND HAS MARSHMALLOW THIGHS! LITERALLY! OF COURSE HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

Inside his own domain, or if he's feeling especially done with whatever poor bastard made him upset, Giota takes the form of an innocent ten year old child with soft white steel skin, mile long black hair made of silk, and black eyes made of diamonds. In this form he wears pajamas for to big for him, his mouth leads to a dark void, and he carries around two plushies: a bunny made of roses from his mom, and a plush of his adult form from his husband. Of course he becomes an adult if they do anything adult, so please don't start.

Regardless of his form, even when it's based on the perspective of others, he always wears a large knitted infinity scarf his husband made for whenever he wanted to hide away.

_____________________

Powers:

Cool ones

I mean, he's not wrong...

(I should make an ice themed character)

Giota, as a god, has numerous powers related to his domains.

powers of freedom:

inspiring presence- while most gods or beings of power inspire mortals and lesser beings of power to kneel down or bow, Giota’s presence inspires all beings to rise up, to do anything, to do whatever they want, to become the best they can be. this can be used to inspire allies to carry on. However Giota can also let this power run rampant, and free the mind of any shackles, and while this sounds good it really just means removing all morals and causing mass violence, and if he lets it run rampant while in the same dimension he lets it then all life will mutate into eldritch monstrosities of decadence and selfishness. According to him this is to show that balance must be kept between chaos and law.

the torch of liberty- among Giota’s duties as a god of freedom is to liberate the populations of ‘doomed realms’ that have been enslaved. essentially, if a planet in a universe is ruled purely by either law or chaos then the entire universe can be effected, in the case of law it can result in the entire universe becoming one collective conscious. while it’s not common that enslaved worlds occur, however when they do they are the most dangerous of law worlds. to combat worlds like this gods of freedom are given torches that free the minds of the enslaved and bring down holy fire upon the enslavers in the form of the collective will of all the freed people.

powers of technological progress:

cybernetic god-many god-years ago Giota was severely wounded by a rogue god of flesh and a rogue god of metal, to the point even he could not regenerate it. to stop him from dying a cult of his granted Giota cybernetic enhancements. these enhancements integrated into Giota’s flesh as it regenerated and became enhanced in turn by Giota’s divinity, and Giota’s divine power was enhanced then by the cybernetics, resulting in a self sustaining growth in power. while he gladly used this to stop the rogue gods, and once again to destroy an old one, he feels being that powerful would upset the balance of power, so he sealed it in a time lock in time with the seasons and time of day in the void. his power increases from mid day to mid night, and from the end of summer to the end of winter. in the minute of exactly midnight at the end of winter, Giota becomes, in both this multiverse and the old, the most powerful being to exist.

self evolving knowledge- because his position as a god of technology is artificial his powers in it are very weak, being able to only grant full sentience and sapience to machines. he can also create minor miracles of technology, such as summoning a clockwork toy(which he does often)

hey man did you really have to bring up the whole getting my ass kicked thing?

yes, now shut up before I bring up what you sing in the shower

....fucker....

powers of being dramatic:

yeah that wasn't a joke. Giota is the god of being over the top, stylish, and over all flair. in other words, being dramatic

personal sound track- he can cause any song he wants to play when he does anything.

lights, camera, ACTION!- whenever he wants, Giota can cause a bright, sparkling light to emit from his body or behind himself.

my favorite is that one bad bitch’s theme. what’s her name again?

Ragyo Kiyurin?

that's the fucker! terrible taste in morals, but damn does she know how to enter a room.

...can I put sigh when it’s supposed to be me sighing?

powers of the god of chaos

Chaotic existence- for Giota to even exist is, in and of itself, a paradox. he comes from a timeline that never existed, that was on a set path, yet he exist, and he changed the course of the timeline. when he became a chaos god he became a paradox within a paradox, he existed yet did not. to attempt to change any aspect of his being, to take in any part of his being, is to know that which is not there to know, to understand that which is not there, you have to be able to comprehend the very essence of nonexistence to even bare a hair of his getting in your mouth. such a thing easily drives all things that try insane, to the point that every part of their conscience believes that it does not exist.

overwhelming power-chaos gods are only once a multiverse, and with the title comes pure power. such power could turn an infant into an indestructible warrior, however since Giota was already at that level on a mortal scale, and already capable of taking on powerful gods, this power sets him among the highest echelons of divine might.

powers of the god of void

key to nonexistence- the god of the void is the only being who can open the bridge between that which exist and that which does not

rapid regeneration- the void god has an innate ability to regenerate from nearly all damage, even if they are ground to a fine paste. this regeneration is enhanced by the cybernetic enhancements.

speed of darkness- the void god has an innate speed that surpasses light, Giota’s already superhuman speed was enhanced by this.

spear of not- the void god is the sole being in existence and non existence who can wield the spear of not, a finely forged weapon. it is not special beyond being enchanted to withstand godly power and a ‘security lock’ enchantment, however it is still a very well made weapon.

blah blah blah, enough about what I was handed, tell them about my mortal abilities

as Giota just said, and as I’ve brought up before, Giota is extremely powerful even without his powers, he also used to be two other mortals that were less powerful. but over all these were his powers, which he still has.

leather skin- while it might appear or feel like something else, Giota’s skin is exactly like leather armor. this comes from how he was raised as a child to be a powerful warrior and his skin was tanned into hide and treated while it was still on him.

adamantine bone- Giota’s bones were also replaced by an adamantine skeleton when he was a child.

super sonic speeds- during his training as a child, he was taught to be able to surpass the sound barrier on foot.

superhuman strength- his training also trained his body to carry ten tons, however as a mortal he improved that strength to the point he could exert enough force to blast away entire cities by blinking. This power did not come easy.

flight- after training with some monks late in his life, Giota was able to walk on the air, essentially he could fly at the same speed as he could run.

agility- he was trained as a warrior and assassin, so Giota’s training included advanced maneuverability training, including wall running, sneaking across tripwires, etc.

weapon master- Giota is a master in all weapons and various forms of martial arts.

he also has reciev- hey man you good?

I-I’m fine! d-don’t write that I’m crying! 

you...wanna talk about it?

…no...

is it about your mom?

…maybe...

alright take your time.

anyway Giota has a very useful piece of equipment, the cloak of maternity- despite it’s name, it’s actual a cloak that leads to a pocket dimension where Giota carries his weapons and toys. It is called the cloak of maternity because his adoptive mother gave him after he became a god-bounty hunter, she even designed it to help him hide away from people. it even has a designated snack pocket.

_____________________

BIO:

Giota was found by his adoptive mother after he destroyed his timeline, as punishment, or perhaps in an attempt to redeem him, she turned him back into a baby. something Giota happily accepted.

After this his life went on as a mortal’s would, only in the realm of divinity: he went to school, went into college, graduated, then entered the workforce. granted the workforce he entered was bounty hunting divine criminals. it was easy for him to get into, after all everything from his past life transferred over to this one, it wasn't long before he was hunting even the deadliest of criminals. while his mom was very supportive, it was still difficult for him to keep in contact with her as he did before moving out, and being a bounty hunter was hardly a sociable job. it wasn't long before Giota fell into depression, and then to drugs. for twenty three god years his life was an endless cycle of contract killing, payment, and wallowing in chemical joy. But at the end of all blinding lights, there is a welcoming darkness.

Giota had become the personal bounty hunter of the god of law and time: Ceerus. one day while leaving after receiving a contract, he met the god’s child, a boy his age named Dyalta.

It was thanks to Dyalta that Giota ever kicked drugs, or got out of depression, and thanks to Dyalta Giota managed to find happiness in anything other than a syringe.

Even the reason he found love.

rise to godhood

Giota became a god after an old god, named the Red slaughter, destroyed the entire universe. this was a catalyst for Giota, who had died previously, to return with his newly awakened god powers. I don't want to go into to much detail in this aspect as I intend to write it at some point.

_____________________

hey man you good yet? 

a little bit. Dyalta came by and gave me some cookies.

that's good buddy, I’m gonna describe your personality ok?

alright.. I’m gonna go home now.

alright man, take care.

_____________________

personality

do note that this is a bit hard for me to do. I’m more used to just writing a character. I’ll just post two short stories here to try and get his personality across. I made them in school last year.

ok so after looking at it the second one is twelve pages long. so I’m gonna post that elsewhere on here. to give context: this is after a wedding between Dyalta and Giota was interrupted. if you’d like to see more about him then feel free to interact or request him.

elavator story

Giota shifted uncomfortably to make room for his soon to be father in law as the man stepped into the lift.

“Soooooo…” Giota pressed their floor “wonderful, um, siege we’re having.”

Ceerus just keeps his eyes on the door “sure.”

“So how's the uh, wife?”

Ceerus sighed “locked in a tower, that we are invading.”

“Mhm, yup.”

‘Maybe I should try calling him dad.’

“So what did you think of my swordsmanship d-dad.”

Ceerus visibly restrained himself “it was fine ten- Giota.”

The elevator stopped, probably because of security.

“Oh maker damnit,” Ceerus tries rewinding the shut off, but it doesn't work “and it’s godproofed!”

“This reminds of this one time me and Dyalta wen-”

Ceerus put his hand to Giota’s mouth “if you end this story in anything less than fully clothed I will end your fake hide.”

Giota scratches his head nervously “Well I didn't, but Dyalta lost his shirt and well,” Giota notice Ceerus drawing his blade “b-but it was for a sword fi- wait bad wording, it was for a-you know- assasination thing!”

Ceerus sighed and sheathed his sword “look, you dusting mongrel, I don’t like you, you pretend to like me, let’s just try and not kill each other and maybe by the end of this, I won’t flay your ass at the altar.”

Well atleast now they both agreed on something: this was going to be a long crusade.

________________________________________________________________

ok that's that! not a very good character sheet but hopefully it got enough across to be interesting. I’ll end this off with some quotes I want him to say but have never gotten the chance to write out:

“hey Ceerus how’s the kid? oh thats right! in my bed, waiting patiently.” following Ceerus being exceptionally annoying.

“you know something? I try to be nice, I always smile, always banter with my targets. you know, try and be friendly. but then some RED MOTHERFUCKER, POSSESSES MY HUSBAND, WAKING ME UP FROM ETERNAL SLUMBER, AND NOW I ONCE AGAIN HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE GOD’S MESSES!”

*crying into Dyalta* “and then he said my clothes were stupid,” *sobbing* “I tried really hard on these!”

“this multiverse, to us gods, is wet paper mache. so easy to break, one wrong move and POP,” Giota flexes his finger and causes an ocean to split open for a solid ten seconds, “the very fabric of reality is gone. and you. you insuferable MOTHER FUCKERS have the AUDACITY TO COME IN HERE, AND TEAR IT ALL TO SHREDS! well assholes, if this reality is paper mache to you, and I’m stronger than you, take a wild gues as to what you are to me.”

(tagging: @storytravelled, @3lectro-heart, @genshin-obsessed)

#tw drugs #oc

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #28- I Sure Hope Y’all Like Megatron

“Dark Cybertron” is finally over! Woohoo!

Who’s ready for a return to hijinks and mild peril?

I know this guy is!

Hold on a second-

We start our foray into Season 2 of MTMTE with a little meta-humor-

-and then it’s right into the swing of things, as Brainstorm uses the thin, fragile wine glass of faction-based morality to hold his personal need to make instruments of violence. Nautica disapproves, but then why wouldn’t she? She’s not been steeped in the militant ideologies of the Autobots for millions of years.

It’s six months after the convoluted events of “Dark Cybertron”, and our beloved ship, the Lost Light, is back on track for the Knight Quest. Nautica’s joined the crew, which is neat, but there are far more interesting things going on.

Like Rung actually doing his fucking job for once.

Wow, look at that little creamsicle man go.

It would seem that in the last half-year (by Earth standards) Megatron’s somehow gotten himself into the esteemed position of Captain of the Lost Light. This likely means that Rodimus has been defeated in battle, or perhaps fucked off on yet another space yacht to run away from his responsibilities. I suppose the narrative will have to fill us in on just what exactly happened.

Or, at least, I hope it does. Wouldn’t be a terribly good story if I had to guess on how exactly this dude’s in charge of a whole-ass Autobot crew.

Yes, yes, I know he switched sides, but goddammit, it takes a little more than saying sorry and changing your wardrobe to excuse the murder of half of NYC.

I mean, we can do both. Both is an option. I’ll break out The Communist Manifesto right now, let’s fuckin’ gooooooooo-

Six months prior to Megatron’s therapy appointment, Rodimus is ready to high-tail it off of Cybertron yet again. This is because, as established in previous posts, Cybertron kinda sucks butt. He bursts into the meeting Optimus Prime called- even though he’s really not leader of anything anymore, Starscream is- bids everyone farewell, and is about to run back out of the room when he’s stopped.

Turns out that the populace of Cybertron want Megatron to stand trial. That makes sense, given what all he’s done. Of course, the Autobot pals we’ve got in the room want to skip due process and go straight to the part where Megatron pays through the nose for the last four million years.

Which doesn’t feel terribly heroic or good guy-ish, but I think by this point you’ve probably caught on to the fact that everyone in IDW Transformers is morally gray at BEST.

Because Megatron’s had a rough time the last few years, in relation to his bodily integrity, spark extraction- that thing that High Command lied about in relation to Overlord- isn’t an option. It would just kill him dead.

Uh, excuse me? Optimus Prime, sir? Monsieur Premier?

Guess Optimus hasn’t been keeping up with exRiD.

Anyway, yeah, since Tyrest fucked off in “The Sound of Breaking Glass” and also tried to commit a genocide, we’re gonna need someone to cast judgement.

Course, a military trial isn’t exactly ideal, but as long as it’s open to the public, it should be fine.

Probably.

Anyway, Prowl’s also going to help. Ultra Magnus has been assigned the task of representing Megatron in court, a job which he’s positively delighted to have, if his face is any indication.

The gang breaks for lunch, and Rodimus and Optimus touch base on how the Knight Quest is going.

Because Rodimus’ half of the Matrix had the map for finding the Knights of Cybertron in it, they’re gonna have to go with Plan B.

Oh fuck yes, I love Plan B!

Unfortunately, finding the ideal romantic partner for all Cybertronians is going to have to wait until after the trial, because Optimus really wants Rodimus here for this. Though perhaps there’s a way to make things move a little faster…

Back in the present, Megatron’s had just about enough of Rung being a psychiatry joke, and is about to walk out of his appointment. Ravage is here, which is neat. Rung asks Megatron about the three most important people in his life, and how he met them. One of these people is, funnily enough, Rung.

Rung, if you’ll recall, was thrown into Megatron and Impactor’s table at Maccadams waaaaaay back in The Transformers #22, the first issue of the IDW run that Roberts wrote solo. It would seem that getting arrested and subjected to police brutality ruined his once-idealistic worldview. This is just a lightning-round recap of the events of the “Chaos Theory” storyline.

Being reminded of how hard he got dunked on makes Rung break out his copy of Megatron’s autobiography, Towards Peace. Of course, Megatron has to be “that guy”, and makes it out to be far more than it actually is. My dude, you used your writing to tell all your proto-Decepticon buddies to go beat up Whirl in prison. Let’s not make things sound more grandiose than they are.

Anyway, it turns out that Rung is actually just as much a nerd as he looks, as he reveals that he’s in possession of one of the only few copies of the original version of Towards Peace. And then he takes off his glasses and the fans go bonkers, even though he’s just got that Milne Same-Face going on, just like everyone else.

There you are, you animals.

Rung discusses Revisionism, I’m reminded that the first publication of Eugenesis had a dedication to Roberts’ son of all people, and we get the question of who Terminus is to Megatron.

But alas! The X-ray vision’s been turned on, and it’s time to see… nude robots? An in-depth anatomy lesson?

Robots are confusing sometimes. Anyways, major props to Milne for drawing all that detail. Dude does the technical stuff with a ferocity that must be awe-inspiring to behold.

Megatron’s decided that it’s time for lunch, and then he’s going to do captain stuff.

Because he’s captain of the Lost Light.

I’m convinced Rodimus is dead. That’s the only way this is happening.

Six months ago, Swerve was being awful Swerve-like, with his new buddy Crosscut- guess he finally learned the guy’s name- and Riptide, who we’ll get to a little later on. These three wonderful lads are holding a sort of “crew try-outs”, and it looks like the requirements needed for entry on Megatron’s Lost Light are stiff.

Still, maybe our new friend Nautica will make the cut.

Oh, you are simply delightful!

Despite Nautica having interest in nearly every topic in the universe, on top of having impeccable taste in booze, she just misses the cut. It’s at this point that Nightbeat bursts into the room to stop this farce from going any further. The fact that nobody mentioned anything prior to this is surprising, given that portmanteaus don’t really seem the type of thing Ultra Magnus would approve of.

Back six months ago, we see what Optimus Prime’s super great idea was to expedite the judicial process- Chromedome. It’s always Chromedome. He’s gonna do that thing he promised his late husband he’d stop doing. I suppose it’s a good thing- for Rewind, anyway- that Megatron is wholly against the idea of having his memories torn out of his head. Guess we’re gonna have to do the trial the normal, non brain-pokey way.

Optimus leaves the cell, because I suppose he’s remembered that there’s a conflict of interests here, but Rodimus stays behind to let Megatron know he deserves everything that’s coming his way.

Then Megatron breaks out the puzzle-box from Hellraiser.

In the present, Chromedome isn’t so much spiraling in his depression as he is circling the drain. Nightbeat doesn’t give a shit about that though- he’s more concerned with the fact that one of the numbers on the door to Chromedome’s room is missing. But I’m sure it’s fine.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine.

While Nightbeat’s busy being insensitive to his fellow man’s distress, Megatron’s arrived to his room to find his door’s been vandalized by a bunch of idiots who must have just discovered what a thesaurus is. Then he gets shot in the fucking hand with an arrow.

As you do.

Whirl’s gotten ahold of a bow, and he fully intends to use it for Megatron-directed violence. And also his fists. His very pointy fists. He punches Megatron through the fucking floor into the fuel furnace, and they fall what’s probably a good 200 feet to the ground below. Whirl yells about evening the score between the two of them, and then knees Megatron in the dick.

Turns out, Megatron remembers Whirl even better than originally thought, having gone so far as to order his forces to not kill Whirl, because, in a way, he was grateful for the lesson he learned back before the war in Rodion.

Oh man, I hope Rung’s somehow listening in on this. Like, eavesdropping is obviously bad medicine, but we’ve already established that he sucks as a professional, and he needs what few advantages he can get.

Whirl, enraged by the implication that he’s been fighting fixed battles for the last four million years, punches Megatron in the gut… and his arm gets swallowed up by an errant portal leftover from all of Shockwave’s tampering. Since you can’t really fight with only one arm, Megatron wanders off to do captainy things.

Walking back the timeline slightly, we revisit Megatron leaving Rung’s office, and the idea of personal revisionism, the conversation becoming parallel with the strange happenings going on within the ship, as Rewind’s final message is altered so as not to end with “I love you” but instead a blood-curdling scream. Chromedome is, understandably, upset by this turn of events.

Over with Whirl, it’s revealed that the little fight we saw was intentionally set up. For what purpose, or by whom, is left a mystery.

Please see a doctor.

One last flashback to the trial, as Prowl lists off everything that’s standing in the way of our Sympathetic Megatron Redemption Arc.

Good fuckin’ luck, James.

Back in the present, Megatron’s slapped a bandaid on the hole in his torso, as he checks to see what’s happening on the bridge. It would appear there’s a coffin floating around in space.

Pretty fucked up.

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 28 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #comic script writing

[villa-kulla]

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22, thanks for the tag, sorry for the delay!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

722 309. I’d have thought it would be more considering how long some of mine seem to get, although looking at other people’s answers to this meme, I guess 26 isn’t really a huge number!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

My first fic ever was a little Lord of the Rings experiment for an exchange thing. But my first proper dip into writing for a fandom would have been Breaking Bad, where I wrote for a couple of years before it felt like my ideas had run their course. Then there was a Kingsman fic, and then Mag7 where - similarly to BrBa - wrote feverishly for a couple years until it felt like the well had been plumbed. Oh yeah and then jumped into the Marvel fandom to drop one Marvel fic before immediately jumping back out lol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So the Marvel fic has officially just become my most kudoed fic, which is kind of hilarious considering it was a SUEZ! CANAL! FIC! But in my opinion, a good one lol. So yeah, it would be 1. The SamBucky Suez Canal fic, 2. The Kingsman soccer AU, 3. Desert Sand, 4. Chisolm’s 7, and 5. Blue Devils. That last one surprises me, but I guess it was an early one for the fandom, so I think it became an automatic read.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not

I do! It’s possible I’ve missed some here and there, but generally I try to get them all.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them! While my fics definitely include angst, ideally it’s still in a fun way, or at minimum, bittersweet? I don’t generally want the last taste in a reader’s mouth to be angst. ALTHOUGH. I really really wanted to include an epilogue to the selkie fic that’s kind of angsty. Basically the story would end, but then many years later we’d see an old man get off a bus on the coastal road, carrying a suitcase. He’d be wearing a suit, clearly back from many years travelling. He’d walk to the coast, back over a hill where there’d once been a little fishing cottage, long since torn down. He’d walk down to the beach and into a little cove where he’d kneel by the water he knew better than anyone. Opening the suitcase he’d take out a box which he’d then empty into the ocean, ashes spreading across the water. He’d take out a folded bundle of cloth and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he’d dive into the water, disappearing into the waves, leaving nothing but an empty suitcase behind him, and a folded pile of clothes.

I loved that ending but I’m still not 100% sure if it was keeping in tone with the actual ending, so I left it out. Maybe one day I’ll go and add it as en extra chapter snippet.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t know if I’d call them ‘crossovers’ exactly, although I did stick Goody and Billy into a Some Like it Hot ‘jazz band on a train’ situation, and I also did a Breaking Bad one that used some elements of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Those feel more like ‘AUs’ though. I like situational crossovers, but I’ve never been super into fics where characters from different fandoms actually interact.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully not. The most off-putting comment I’ve gotten was someone who - despite being very complimentary - decided to make a full-on laundry list all the anachronisms in a chapter lmao, like what. Stuff like "interesting that this character used this expression when XYZ would only been invented 10 years later!” etc. I’m positive they didn’t realize how it came off, but still, that was kind of hilarious in its.....obliviousness lol. It was special.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. And I guess I’ve done the full spectrum of ‘fade to black’ to ‘describe every bead of sweat in pearlescent detail’. It really depends on what the fic calls for! I’ve done some I’m quite proud of tbh, but there are others I’d like to go back and have another stab at, just because they felt kinda cookie-cutter.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

There’ve been a couple! I can’t remember which ones specially, but I had some people asking to translate some Breaking Bad ones, and I think a Mag7 one too. I remember someone messaging to ask permission like “We love your fics in Russia!” and that was a very sweet and wild thing to hear.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I wrote one with @yoporkchopsandwiches! Our Victorian opium dens Breaking Bad AU lol. I was just thinking of that recently actually and remembering how fun it was to read what the other wrote! We plotted out most of it together, and then took turns writing chapters or scenes. But of course while writing you come up with other details or ideas, so we’d then present the new chapter to the other with all the new bits added. And it was so fun to read what the other came up with like ‘omg no way didn’t see that coming/good idea!’ and then picking up their idea from there. In that sense it was almost like improv but for writers.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That I’ve written? I think I’ve had the most fun with Goodnight/Billy, partly for the time period, partly for the dynamic, but mostly for the plausibility. While I really enjoyed writing BrBa, it felt more like it came from enthusiasm for the show, not the central ship lol. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry and its potential was extremely fun to write in a fic setting, but I don’t find I actually shipped it while watching the show itself. Whereas it’s been nice with Mag7 to write for a ship that’s actually....more believable lol. 

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ugh I can’t beLIEVE I have an unfinished fic up on ao3 lol it haunts me. I was sure I was done with Goodnight/Billy, and then early quarantine last year I had a train robbers AU idea, so I posted a couple chapters. But I don’t think my heart was super in it, I was more just messing around with the idea. I don’t want to delete it, but I’m also not super motivated to finish it haha, but we’ll see what happens. But tbh I like the poem summary better than the fic itself:P

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting, keeping things moving, and making stories feel visual maybe? They’re almost all movies in my head anyways, so I think I have good instincts for ‘cinematic moments’.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I’m a little lazy, and also ‘end-product oriented’. In some ways it’s helpful to picture the whole fic before you write it, but sometimes it results in some scenes feeling slightly slapdash because I’m just trying to get them out to move onto the next. Like ‘everyone did everything I wanted to in this scene? Great, next.’ I could stand to ‘stop and smell the roses’ more while I write, and actually see what else I can do to improve a scene.

(also if I use a word once it sticks in my head I end up using it like 5 other times in a scene and don’t notice lol, I need to stop that)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All for it! Depends how it’s done though. I personally find long scenes of dialogue where you have to constantly jump down to the author’s notes for the translations to be distracting. I like when it’s integrated more naturally where actual translations aren’t super important. Like in River Grit, Billy overhears this little exchange between Goodnight and his childhood nanny:

“Ah c’est vrai, mon petit Bonsoir! J’en peux pas le croire!” she cried out and laughed as she embraced Goody. Billy realized with a start that he actually recognized one of the words: ‘Bonsoir’. Goodnight. (insert brief flashback of Goody teaching him the nickname) / “Ma Serafine,” Goodnight said with a laugh. “C’est vrai que tu ne vieillis pas. Tu vas me rendre jaloux, heh?” / Billy had no idea what Goodnight was saying, but he sure as hell recognized Goodnight’s tone for flattery, and it was confirmed when the old woman laughed and smacked his arm.

What they’re actually saying is: “Oh it’s true, my little Goodnight! I can’t believe it!” / “My Serafine, it’s true you never age. You’re going to make me jealous”. But it doesn’t matter because this fic is from Billy’s POV so it’s about how he experiences the language around him, which is why I wouldn’t have included a translation for the reader. If you understand it then it’s a bonus, but the words themselves aren’t really the point! 

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That lil Lord of the Rings fic.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm for Mag7 I’ve always liked River Grit and love how it turned out. I also think Ashes feels very complete as a fic and I liked the flashback format. And while it’s not my favourite fic, in hindsight I’m impressed with the Kingsman football fic and how I had to write about 5 different soccer games and make them all feel different and exciting, and not just some variation of ‘He kicked the ball!’ I’m really pleased with how those sequences all turned out.

La fin! Not tagging anyone this time, but please feel free to do this if you see it! I love when people just take initiative to do these things without waiting for a tag (also please tag me in it if you do, ‘cause I love reading these things lol)

#shares #fontainebleau22

[fortheloveoffanfic]

This Christmas (pt1)

John Wick x Reader. A John Wick AU. (A/n- Just a tiny, five part Au where John is Y/n’s boss.)

Masterlist  

Warnings- none

New York Y/n’s desk was probably the most obvious give away that Christmas was her favorite holiday of all time. She had everything; from tinsel running cheerfully around the edges and a tiny tree in one corner, to a little snowman figurine and a decorative jar of striped candy canes. That year, she’d even put out extra to buy a little Santa Claus figurine to greet everyone coming out of the elevator. The rest of the floor hadn’t really caught on though, her boss was never one to get into the holiday spirit anyways. But Y/n didn’t mind, she probably had enough for them both. 

That morning, three weeks before the big day, she was sitting at her little station in the waiting room, tapping away on her computer, contentedly working her way through everything John had assigned her as she hummed in time with the Christmas carols wafting through her ear buds, loud enough for her to enjoy it though not so much so as to hamper her from hearing if the phone would ring. A classic had just started up, and like the others, Y/n had committed it to memory and was completely ready to get in tune with Mariah Carey when a knocking on the upper part of her receptionist’s desk roused her attention. It was Robert, the company’s head of marketing, flashing her a winning grin as he leaned forward on the matted grey surface. “I see our Christmas queen strikes again,” he gave her area a once over, his smile not wavering.

“That she has,” Y/n returned, beaming. Robert was a friend, a good one and he never let the vast differences in their positions at the company get in the way of inviting her to drinks with other board members or taking the extra elevator ride to bring her coffee whenever he could. “Do you like it?” Removing her ear buds, Y/n shifted her keyboard to give herself some room to fold her elbows on the desk.

“Like it?” Robert furrowed his brows, “I love it! You should come over and help me decorate,” when Y/n rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion, he clarified, “I’m being serious! You won’t have to do any of the heavy lifting, I swear, I’d be grateful for just your direction.”

Giggling, Y/n leaned back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, “Can’t you pay someone to do all that Rob? What do you need me for?”

“I guess I could,” he shrugged, depositing a colorful gift bag with crepe paper sticking out at the top in front of him, he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets, “But it won’t be the same. I’m pretty clueless with…..making sure things flow so perfectly,” he gestured to the way she’d dressed up her station; just enough to show off the spirit, though not in a gaudy, over the top way, “But I like to get involved, you know? Please say you’ll come. I may not be able to decorate like a pro, but my hot cocoa is awesome.”

Leaning in conspiringly, Y/n held her chin in her palm, “Are you trying to bribe me with amazing cocoa that I’ve never tasted?”

“I am,” his voice dropped an octave, and when Robert leaned in towards the desk, he spoke in a whisper, “The secret’s whiskey.”

“Ohh,” Y/n mused, “Very tempting, can you do Saturday?”

“I most definitely can.” just as they continued to make plans, out from the hallway, came their boss, and CEO of the company, John Wick. It was hard to not notice him, considering he seemed to have this air about him that attracted all eyes the minute he walked into a room. He was just…..magnetic. “Y/n,” he teased, “You didn’t tell me the Grinch was in.”

From her usual perch, Y/n stuttered, unlike Robert, she was afraid of what would happen if John felt insulted by a harmless joke. He was an asset to the company, of a high caliber, but her? She was just an assistant. Thankfully though, John didn’t give her a moment to speak before speaking up, shaking his head, “Don’t you have work to do Rob? Things to finalize before the conference.”

“It’s three weeks away,” Robert defended, taking on a bothered expression. He turned to John, leaning against the lip of the desk and crossing one ankle in front of the other. Likewise, John neared the pair, lingering closer to the edge, laying a large palm on the cool top, not yet regarding Y/n.

“Only three weeks,” John emphasized with a heavy sigh, “Did you really just come up here to bother my secretary? Cause if you don’t, Y/n does have work to.” 

“I can see that,” Robert nodded towards the thick planner laid out next to her computer, right next to several papers and little notes reminding her of all the things she had to get done. Buy gifts for everyone on John’s very long yet impersonal list, schedule flights to England for the conference, book him a hotel room, organize his calendar and set appointment dates. And that was barely a quarter of it. By the rate things were going, Y/n was beginning to wonder if John was even going to take Christmas day off. “You’ve got her burning the midnight oil.”

“It’s eleven am,” John noted gruffly. In her three years of working under him, Y/n had never once heard the man crack a joke, or laugh for that matter. He was so serious that often, Y/n would wonder if he even smiled. Maybe that's why he looked so good for a man nearing fifty. That, and the real possibility of him having a fancy home gym. “Maybe it’s time to get back to your office Robert.”

“Right,” Robert fought a frown, only to turn back to Y/n as he picked up the gift, “Just one more thing,” as he looked at her, he smiled again, holding the bag out to her, “I got you this Y/n.”

Scoffing a delighted laugh, Y/n retrieved the present, “No fair, you’re early. I haven’t even had time to get your gift yet.”

“This isn’t your Christmas present,” Robert gestured for her to unveil his gift, “Open it, come on.”

“Alright, fine. But if it's not- oh my god!” Gasping loudly, her jaw hung slack and Y/n held up the ceramic mug that had been secured inside. It was rounded and painted to look like a gingerbread man wearing a scarf, and it had even come equipped with a candy cane spoon. “Rob,”  standing abruptly, disregarding her boss eyeing their exchange, “I love it,” Y/n walked around to meet him on the other side, immediately pulling him into a warm hug, “Thank you!”

“I knew you would,” he grinned as they pulled apart, “I should probably get back now though. But I’ll call you tonight so we can talk about Saturday.”

“Sounds great!” Waving as Robert retreated towards the elevator, she gave her new mug another look, “I can’t wait to use this,” Y/n noted, more to herself, only catching John staring at her when she looked up once more, “I’m sorry Mr. Wick, is there something you needed? If its about your flight plan, I’m calling the agency this afternoon so-”

“You know we have a no fraternization policy, right?” He cut her off, straightening his back and cutting her a stern look.

“I….uh….You mean…..” Looking between John and her opened present, Y/n furrowed her brows, confused. Of course, Robert was perhaps one of the most eligible bachelors, besides John himself, at the company; he was attractive, charming and quite the gentleman. But Y/n had never even thought of viewing him in a romantic light, they were friends and nothing more. “That was…..that was nothing,” she waved the thought off, “Robert is just a good friend. He probably just saw that while he was shopping or something. We do that kind of thing all the time.”

Humming his response, John kept his head held intimidatingly high. He always seemed so much bigger than her and Y/n could never decide whether or not it was thrilling or frightening. John himself was quite the looker, dark hair, dark eyes and enthrallingly mysterious. Even on a regular day he looked like he belonged on the posters for some high end brand or the other. “I need you in my office,” already, he was walking off and Y/n was left scurrying to match his long strides in her heels.

“What is this about?” Breathless as John shut the heavy door behind them, Y/n tried to right herself as she went before his desk. The large room, with dark porcelain floors and hardwood walls, accented by elegant furniture was familiar territory and Y/n knew it almost as well as she knew her own apartment. Papers on the right of his desk were dealt with, the ones on the left weren’t. There was an integrated mini refrigerator among the cabinets and he kept an extra suit, custom Tom Ford cause he never wore anything but, in the closet where he kept his coat. Come to think of it, Y/n probably knew more about John than anyone else in that entire building,

“Its about the conference,” coolly, he sank into his imposing leather chair, gracefully scooting towards his imported, mahogany desk. “It’s good that you haven’t called the agency yet, cause now you’ll be booking three tickets; you’re coming too.”

Stammering, Y/n’s eyes went wide with surprise. That wasn’t right, that wasn’t right at all. She was supposed to have Christmas week off, so she could fly home to be with her family, but that wasn’t really possible if John would be taking her across the pond for a conference filled with stuffy, middle aged people with too much money and no one to spend it on. “Mr. Wick…..I…..I already applied for that week off.”

“No you didn’t, you never submitted an application,” he didn’t even look at her, firing up his laptop and probably ready to be done with the matter.

“Yes, I did,” frenzied, and panicked, Y/n looked to his desk, where, lo and behold, her application for time off sat on among the smaller pile of paperwork, the one on the left side. But that was impossible, she’d given it to him weeks ago! “It’s right there,” she pointed accusingly to where it had been sticking out from beneath some investment proposal or the other. 

Snatching it up, John scanned the pages before swearing under his breath. It was the first time she’d ever seen him so bewildered. “Y/n,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry it must have gotten mixed up in the hustle.”

“I….” She wanted to argue, tell him that an apology wouldn’t make up for keeping her away from her family. Y/n wanted to yell that she’d be taking the week off anyway. But she couldn’t. Not just because he was her boss, but because he was John, who despite his very hardened exterior, had earned himself a soft spot in her heart. Y/n cared for him, in a way she probably shouldn’t have and the thought of bailing when he needed her wasn’t one she could entertain. “It’s okay,” forcing a smile and biting back tears, she blinked quickly, “I guess I should get to planning our flights.”

“Y/n-” he began, but it was too late, Y/n had already turned on her heel and was moving towards the door, swiping hastily at her eyes before she could listen to him say anything else. 

Three Weeks Later Despite being separated merely by six inches in the car ride to the airport, Y/n swore that she could feel John's heat radiating, seeping through her thick layers. It was both an exciting and uncomfortable experience. On one hand, being that close to him almost had her giddy; feeding the school girl crush she'd developed on her boss. While on the other, things felt clumsy and tense; he didn't seem interested in talking,  she didn't know what they could possibly talk about besides work and sharing an hour long car ride and six am was plain out awkward. Still, they’d made it through in almost complete silence. 

Even at the airport, whilst walking to where they had agreed to meet Robert at the waiting area in anticipation of their flight, John had stayed silent and Y/n felt something of a dead limb walking beside him. He was always quiet and, like clockwork, as the year dwindled down, he seemed to grow even colder, as New York’s winter resided inside him. Usually, Y/n tried to not to let it get to her, but they were going to spend the week together; she’d given up family time for work and his silence was making her feel a bit lonely. Her only glimmer of hope for some good, warm company had been in Robert, even if Y/n got the feeling that John wouldn’t be giving them too much time together.

The chill between them lingered all the way through, though, when they all met up, things were uncharacteristically different. Immediately upon greeting each other, Y/n had instinctively pulled Robert into a hug, standing on the tip toes of her suede knee-highs so she could loop her arms around his neck, staying like that until John cleared his throat. When Y/n pulled away, she rubbed her gloved hands together, glancing at John, not really knowing what to feel when she looked at him and consequently looking away quickly. “ Uh…” checking her phone, Y/n exhaled shakily; there was still quite a bit of time left and the thought of having to spend it with both Robert and John was unnerving. She knew he wasn’t exactly a fan of their friendship, though, she could never tell why and without having to ponder on it, Y/n  had already known that they were in for a long morning.

“Why don’t we head over to the lounge, get some drinks?” John filled the silence, causing Y/n to snap her head up and look directly at them. John wanted to grab drinks, with them? When she finally gathered the courage to face him, she found that John was looking directly at her, as if he were really only seeking her response.

Staring back at him, as she always did, Y/n found it hard to not lose herself in those dark pools, so endless that she might have drowned if she wasn’t too careful. The request was simple and impersonal, but still very unlike the John she’d grown to know. “Okay,” forcing herself to nod and simultaneously shifting her gaze back to Robert who now stood beside her, Y/n agreed, “We can do that. But it’s a little early, don’t you think?”

“It’s the airport, Y/n,” Robert teased lightly as he nudged her shoulder, “Besides, it's already noon in London, so technically, you’re just…….pre-assimilating.”

Battling an amused grin, Y/n rolled her eyes, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she prepared to start moving towards the lounge, “That’s not a real thing.”

“Technically it is, I mean, Hardy made up words all the time and no one did anything about that. You,” he emphasized pointedly, “Love Hardy.”

“Hardy is a timeless, literary genius. You are a marketer from New York, it’s clearly not the same,” she laughed. She could tell that Robert was about to add something more, though, when John interrupted them, sternly urging them to move along, he dropped the matter, instead insisting that he take one of her bigger bags. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to,” he said, claiming one of her carry ons before she could protest any further. “We should get going, before Scrooge over here loses it.”

“You’ve gotta stop that,” Y/n admonished before they set off, “You’re gonna get fired or something.”

“I’m not gonna get fired, relax-”

“If you kids are finished,” they both looked to John immediately as he scolded them, and Y/n shuddered at the way his tell tale signs of irritation shone through; a quirked brow, an evident scowl and a hardness in his jaw that screamed that he was at his rope’s end with their banter. 

“We are,” she spoke up without giving Robert the opportunity to come up with another questionable joke directed at their very unamused boss. Then, not offering anything further, she followed John’s  lead as he walked off, not paying any mind to how far they were behind him. 

Though, the peace was short lived when Y/n tripped as they reached the bottom of one of those short lived staircases that had been placed purely for aesthetic purposes, accidently dropping her rolling suitcase as she stumbled forward. With reflexes faster than she could have registered, John spun, barely sparing a moment to set aside his own suitcase before catching her at the shoulders. By the time he’d helped her right herself, Y/n’s chest was barely a hair away from his and with the way he was bent, his face wasn’t much further from hers. Swallowing thickly, for the first time Y/n didn’t feel small under his bottomless stare, instead, she felt like he was seeing into her; trying to speak into her. It was hard to decipher it, and it could have very well been her own unspoken affections blurring things, but Y/n could have sworn that he was seeing her in a different light.

Everything around them seemed to slow down, like the universe was letting her savor the proximity that she’d never experience again. “Are you okay?” John’s inquiry pierced their fragile moment, and all of a sudden, it was as if someone had hit play on a remote so reality would resume.

“I…..I’m fine, thanks,” she smiled weakly, her expression faltering when John pulled away. Then, simultaneously remembering her fallen suitcase, they both bent over to get it, leaving John’s hand to unconsciously fall over Y/n’s. For a split second, they stared at their hands, together, on the black plastic handle, looking very suggestive with the way they were positioned. “I uh, I got it,” flustered, Y/n gave the bag a gentle tug.

John didn’t let up immediately though, instead sparing her a peculiar stare, “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” she exhaled shakily. Y/n couldn't let him take it, else she’d read too much into it, and no good would come from reading too much into an innocent though rare act of inconsequential kindness from John Wick. He didn’t feel the same, they weren’t even friends, it wasn’t worth it. “Thanks though.”

They stood and John immediately put some distance between them. “Good,” he scoffed coldly, walking off before they could exchange anything else. 

“Hey,” Robert touched her shoulder, causing Y/n to jump. She’d been looking on as John walked off, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do or think. “You okay? That could have been a nasty fall, especially in those shoes.”

“Yeah,” finally tearing her gaze away from John’s slowly shrinking form so she could greet Robert’s concern with her own bewilderment, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Vaguely, she heard his response, though it sounded far off as she inevitably succumbed to  letting thoughts of the past five minds swim around in her head; caught between wishing it meant something and thinking that it more than likely didn’t. 

****** Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana  @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x y/n #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #ff #fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick au #christmas au #this christmas #this christmas part 1

[actualbird]

Opening Line Tag Game :DDD

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

was tagged by @dont-offend-the-bees!! thanks for the tag, newt!!!! ur dghda fics holds a special place in my heart even though ive sailed away to fandoms afar.

well, here’s the first lines of the past 20 fanfics i posted onto my ao3, starting from most recent going back!!

When he gets home, Signora is leaning against the door of his apartment. (something like a death wish, Genshin Impact)

It’s a somber affair, when it’s time for Azhdaha to fade away. (it's a hard rock life for us, Genshin Impact)

Azhdaha is born into a world of darkness. (you give me miles and miles of mountains, Genshin Impact)

It starts with one of Jean’s many romance novels. (what's inside? that's causing this malfunction, Genshin Impact)

Ajax didn’t think about it much, before. (i forget the difference between seduction and arson, ignition and cognition, Genshin Impact)

The ceremony is a small affair. (if it was important, we would have remembered, Genshin Impact)

He wakes up alone, shaking and bathed in darkness. (our endless and impossible journey toward home is in fact our home, Genshin Impact)

Kaeya doesn’t have baby pictures— what with the whole abandoned by his birth father at the ripe age of six at the doorstep of a winery tycoon shebang—but ever since he did get adopted, Crepus Ragnvindr took basically a million pictures of his two boys through every single year of their life. (angry react, Genshin Impact)

How strangely time passes; sometimes it soars like a feathered sliver in the sky, hopeful and free. (it's time to leave and turn to dust, Genshin Impact)

Thankfully, Charles is the one manning the bar when Kaeya gets to the Angel’s Share tavern. (ain't i the best you had?, Genshin Impact)

Life as a Fatui grunt isn’t as fabulous as the Snezhnayan rumor mill makes it out to be. (we don't even have dental..., Genshin Impact)

Here’s the thing: Childe’s career was going fucking great. (put your hands on me, Genshin Impact)

In the beginning, there was a land that was left by the gods to rot. (take this cup away from me, Genshin Impact)

Childe is in a domain hunting down intel when things go a bit fun. (taste of poison paradise, Genshin Impact)

Everybody in Pelican Town knows of the new resident, but knowing anything substantial about him is something else altogether. (a fullered blade and a scalpel, Stardew Valley)

Ronnie’s known for quite a while that Harvey is, well...endowed. (baby, you got lucky cause you're rocking with the best, Stardew Valley)

Ronnie has always been different from other people. (legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees, Stardew Valley)

Spring comes, as it always does. (that's what seasons do, Stardew Valley)

The universe lurches. (just enjoy the show, Polygon Cyberpunk Red)

It comes in stages, not all at once. (not quite 20/20 vision, Hades)

can you believe these past 20 fics were ALL posted this year???? I WROTE 20 FANFICS IN 5 MONTHS....ON GODS THIS PANDEMIC HAS GOTTA END, SKJDFHKJSDF.

anyway //steeples hands. some patterns ive noticed as i put this list together

i almost always use the first sentence to establish either setting or premise. i guess i do this because, personally, when i enter a scene, the first thing i want to know is what im supposed to be physically experiencing or what im supposed to be emotionally focused on, if that makes sense? i need to Know!!!!! which means that my first lines honestly, in my opinion, are a bit boring akjfkbjfkjbfd. i gotta set down the bedrock or else everything else will be wobbly!!! i write my fics like i construct a fuckin jenga tower, i swear akjfbakjsf

something i do keep in mind with all my first lines is the very simple yet integral rule: a sentence’s purpose is to do what it needs to do, but also to make the reader want to read the next sentence. this, i guess, is why nearly all of my first lines feel like a cliffhanger. thats on purpose because what i want to do with my first line is get u to keep reading. in a sense, my first lines are working triple time. they 1) do whatever it is they need to do for the story, 2) establish setting/premise, and 3) push you onwards to the next sentence like a baby sea turtle waddling to the ocean.

related to “triple time” but that was something i learned from a brutal fiction professor who was wonderful and intelligent! but also made me shift out of the fiction track in college HAHA. his basic belief was that sentences cant just be doing One Thing. you’re going waste a lot of time and a lot of words and lose your reader, if you go at things like that. sentences have to multitask. i am very aware of this with opening lines...

and last but not least, all these opening lines undoubtedly suck on their own HAHKJBKDFJDJF

i....dont think i have a favorite opening line of all of the ones i listed tbh. like i said, all my opening lines, on their own, dont exactly Wow, so im lukewarm about all these haha. i think....this is indicative of me having to step up my opening line game......

//jazz hands. anyway theres that! and as for ppl to tag, i am notoriously shy when it comes to writer tag games, but im breaking my shyness to tag @listentotheshityousay and @theinternationalacestation . 

no need to do it if u dont wanna, friends!!! jus know i adore yalls’ writing so very very much

#tag game #long post #fic directors cut

[rocknrollarticles]

Chris Simmonds interviews Jon Lord for Beat International Magazine, December 1975

(article transcription continues below the cut)

Lord of The Deep

“I don’t think rock could exist and roll exist without solos — it’s a vital form of musical expression.”

Jon Lord of Deep Purple is undoubtedly a rarity. He combines the most pleasing qualities, rarely found among others enjoying a similar position on the Rock and Roll roundabout. We have man who has been making successful records for over seven years, and who remains both verbally and musically articulate with out ever resorting to the more flamboyant pretensions exhibited by so many of his contemporaries. He is a star, to be sure, but never to the point of camouflaging the musician.

With the reformed Purple off to the States until Christmas, we were delighted when Jon agreed to meet us at the airport before take-off to talk about Purple, new and old, and in general his particular role as keyboard player. The time was apt as we had just heard enough of the tapes of the band’s new album (Come Taste The Band) to suggest that it would totally eclipse the rather disappointing Stormbringer.

Jon, notorious for his late plane catching, arrived early this time, and cast his mind back to the days of Deep Purple Mark 1. The In Rock album was certainly the first major step towards worldwide acceptance, and we asked how this style change had been linked with the departure of original members Rod Evans and Nicky Simper, vocals and bass. 

Concise

“Christ, that far back. My memory isn’t all that good. Basically, it was that three people in the band wanted two to leave, and In Rock shows exactly what we wanted to get into. In fact, we had already been playing the In Rock style on stage, but we had never done it on an album. With lan Gillan and Roger Glover in the band, we had two rock and rollers, much more so than the others.

“It might just have been the climate of the times, but we did feel that the previous albums had rambled a bit. This attitude almost went against us, because we were so concise with In Rock that it became very hard to follow. This move was in fact largely motivated by Ritchie, and the general agreement by the majority of the band was that this was what we should do.

“I went down at the time as saying that I totally agreed with the policy but thought it should have been little more relaxed, and as a result of that Ritchie and I had a few arguments. These resolved themselves and resulted in Machine Head which, apart from the new one, was to my mind our best album.

If there were the odd moments of apathy from Ritchie, I certainly never shared them, apart from Who Do We Think Are which I disliked intensely. It was done in a mood of total fed-upness. lan left shortly afterwards, because by then he and Ritchie were having head-on collisions, so that probably caused the bad moods of that time.

Freedom

“However, most of the albums were a great joy to make. Although Fireball got slagged a bit, you must remember that it followed a smash success album, and that’s always difficult. It still gave me great satisfaction.” During this period a very prominent feature of the Purple music was a never ending rash of frantic solos. How far did Jon feel that they were an integral part of the songs?

“So long as it fits the song, I’m delighted to have them. We have reached the point now that even when I am playing the part of a backing musician I have much greater freedom. The song structure with Glenn (Hughes) and Tommy (Bolin) isn’t set any more. We are trying to loosen the whole thing up, and cut out the ‘this happens in that bar and that happens there’ attitude.

“The days of the really long solos have gone, and I am talking about the twenty five minute jobs. Everyone will still have their solo slot, because basically that is what Deep Purple is all about. We have always prided ourselves on our individual abilities, and we like to show it. Quite frankly, we sometimes went much too far in the past, and some of the others’ solos bored me.”

Given Jon’s feelings about solos, did he have any special preference about playing the more direct songs like Speed King and Highway Star or the more protracted tracks like The Mule?

“I’m quite happy with either role, so long as I am happy with the song in the first place. I don’t mind sitting back behind the guitar because that is just as creative as leading the song. Actually, that’s a tricky question, because the Hammond doesn’t really sit all that well in rock and roll as a backing instrument. It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to find an acceptable way of incorporating the instrument… Where was I? Oh yes, at the same time I have to solo — every musician does.

I don’t think rock and roll could exist without solos — it’s a vital form of musical expression. It’s a way of stretching out, but of course how much you do so is up to you, or the band. A musician should solo as long as he feels he is feeding off the audience, but I feel that it is unforgivable to bore an audience.”

Possibilities

With the new members, what possibilities did Jon see as far as his own instrument was concerned? “I really see many. Ritchie was a very demanding player in that he really enjoyed the limelight. I mean, we all did obviously, but I suppose he was so extrovert on stage to balance the introvert he was offstage. It’s hard to speak objectively as he was my friend for seven years. One of the nice things about having an American in the band is the more quote laid back unquote atmosphere. I enjoyed Tommy’s solo album.” And Ritchie’s album?

“There was certainly a Purple sound, but thought it was second rate Purple, and you can print that. I was surprised to say the least, because he said he wanted to go right back to the raw roots he felt we were abandoning. At the same time I suspect that his next album will be a bitch.”

Apathy

On the subject of these recent albums, Jon went on to compare Stormbringer and Come Taste The Band. “I liked the Stormbringer album. It was certainly a little different. There was a certain apathy on Ritchie’s part — he was already thinking of leaving — and perhaps it shows. We should have attacked it more as Deep Purple rather than approaching it in that dispirited way. I’m really not trying to make Ritchie a whipping boy — I really don’t want to — but you mentioned the word apathy and I think I would have to go along with that. But if the album didn’t quite come off, it didn’t sell as well as the others had, so there’s justice there.”

Jon is well known for his classical inclinations, and we wondered if they might reemerge more strongly within the new band framework?

“I’m really two musicians, and they meet somewhere in the middle. The outer edges can never get together, and that’s why I make solo albums, just to get things out of my head and out of my system. Look — I’m not carrying a cross for classical music — I’m a rock and roller and I have been for ten years. There just happens to be more, that’s all.”

What did he feel that the future held for the keyboard? “I think now that it has arrived with a vengeance, it will stay. Keyboard players are having to get more versatile in respect of the number of instruments they are having to play. The organ sound as just an organ sound is already overused, and I personally use synthesizers, a clavinet and a Fender Rhodes besides the Hammond.

Technique

“I have countered this dilemma of 'old hat’ sound by having my set up built specially for me. I have four Leslies which have been totally ripped out and replaced with better components, Crown amps, and all the keyboards, about six, go through the Leslies. The organ has also been messed around with, so it’s not a straight Hammond sound — it’s a particular sound that I feel fits our kind of music.”

Jon was also glad to offer tips to the embryonic keyboard wizard. “Well, even though it’s 'just’ rock and roll, I think it’s invaluable to acquire a technique of some sort. By all means absorb from other people, and try find out how they do it, but then you mus try to branch off and perfect your own style. Things like scales and arpeggios, although very boring, are bloody well worth while. If you are soloing, and your fingers won’t do what is in your head, it’s the most frustrating thing in the world. I have never regretted the hours and hours of practising that I have put in. I try to listen as much as I can to what else is going on in the rock world — I think it is important to be aware of what your peers are doing.

Relaxation

“I was talking to lan Gillan the other night on just this subject, and he said he never used to listen to anyone but Deep Purple and Elvis Presley. He admitted that he was totally wrong. He said that since he had been off the road he had been listening to everything that he could, and he realised how much he had missed. You don’t listen to others to copy — just to judge the feel of the business. Anyway, it’s a relaxation to me.”

The hidden speakers in the roof of the lounge was announcing the departure of the Purple flight. “I feel as if I could go on for another twenty years,” said Jon jumping up. “Thanks a lot for talking to me.”

#deep purple #jon lord #ritchie blackmore #beat international #beat international magazine #music magazine #musician interview #article #music article #my posts #1975 #Chris Simmonds

[kaediisarchive]

Final thoughts on the 2021 Mortal Kombat movie.

LOTS of spoilers under the cut! Do not look at this post if you don’t want to see spoilers!

And remember, this is all just my opinion. It’s not like an actual in-depth review because I’m not a film student; this is just my perspective on what I saw as a fan of this franchise.

POSITIVE

Sub-Zero and Scorpion were great. Opening fight was great.

“Eddy Tobias” namedrop lmao

I love the snow preceding Sub-Zero’s attack. Very foreboding.

Score is AWESOME. My favorite soundtrack is probably the one that plays when Sub-Zero is attacking them in the city towards the beginning.

Sonya rigging her house with a secret bunker and trap doors is smart and fits her character.

I like that the dragon logo has an integral meaning to the story.

Loved Jax vs Sub-Zero. Not mad about the origin change of Jax’s arms. I like that he had to work through his feelings of inadequacy and failure; people don’t just immediately bounce back after something that traumatic. I also like that his arcana manifests to protect Sonya rather than in the heat of battle. It shows his emotional priorities and what separates him from people like Kano who manifest their arcana in a fit of rage.

Sonya “Throw Hands on Sight” Blade lmfao. They nailed her fighting style too and I am happy.

Kano is the best thing about this movie. No competition.

Kotal reference!

Nightwolf reference!

Shang Tsung’s soul magic being black and wispy and foreshadowing Noob Saibot.

KANO DID THE HEART RIP

CHEKOV’S GNOME I’M SCREAAAAAAMMMMIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG

I love Liu Kang in this. He is 1000000% a Wholesome Boi. I like that he’s younger and unhardened and not the fully realized champion version of his character yet. Let him grow into it so it feels earned later on. I like that he’s the underdog, and I like what they’ve set up for him in the future. Also, the casting for him was perfect and they nailed his fighting style, too.

That little “the FUCK” that the Kano actor improvised(?) in the middle of Liu Kang’s lines made me laugh more than it should have. I don’t know why that moment got to me so much but it did.

I love Kung Lao. And they nailed his fighting style, too! Great to see variation that represents the characters (though there were less shining examples, which I’ll touch on later).

LOW SWEEP! LOW SWEEP! LOW SWEEP!

Egg roll scene is best scene.

Kabal! I love his dry humor. And his voice reminds me of Duke Nukem, which I’m not mad about. It complemented his dialogue well.

Not mad about Kung Lao’s death because it was meaningful. His fatality on Nitara was sick, too.

Liu Kang taking the ribbon from Kung Lao’s hat and wearing it in his honor, giving an origin for his signature headband is FANTASTIC.

THE PIT!

FLYING BICYCLE KICKS!

LIU KANG’S DRAGON FATALITY!

SONYA’S ENERGY RINGS!

Sub-Zero was a GREAT final boss. They really built him up appropriately to make him feel like it.

Scorpion’s fatality! And his skull face!

NEUTRAL

Not sure how I feel about Sub-Zero being wholly evil and there being no involvement from Quan Chi. It’s more straight forward for sure. It makes him an interesting (and badass) character, and I’m really behind this portrayal in that he is one of the most believable characters in the movie, but I’m not sure if I like the implications for later films in how this has simplified the dynamic in the entire Shirai Ryu vs Lin Kuei plotline. Having Quan Chi be the Machiavelli was always one of my favorite MK twists. And how do we eventually end the feud now? If Bi-Han / the Lin Kuei were wholly responsible, why should Hanzo EVER make peace with Kuai Liang down the line? The complexity feels like it’s been stripped down a bit, but I do love this iteration of Sub-Zero. I truly do. That’s why this is in the neutral category and not the negative XD.

Why didn’t Jax tell Cole when he saw the mark? Why wait until his family gets attacked? Maybe he didn’t want to do it in front of his family to keep them out of it, but that ends up endangering them more. Not a gripe, just a curiosity.

Sound editing was a bit too intense at times for my taste. I have tinnitus, so...big boomy bass with very mild voices is a chore for my ears to switch between. My ears were ringing within the first twelve minutes.

Torn between “fuck you Reiko” and “Reiko deserved better”. He deserved just a little bit better, but Skarlet says “get fucked” anyway.

I don’t like the “shaky cam” used in the fight scenes. Not my cup of tea. Very hard to visually process at times.

Whatever cosmic force is picking the champions for Earthrealm is doing a shitty job at it.

Why did they change the location of the Sky Temple to a desert? Again, not a gripe, a curiosity.

“We will not see another full moon before the tournament begins” THEN WHERE IS THE TOURNAMENT BUDDY???

Not sure how I feel about the “arcana” concept. It’s an okay plot device but kinda hammy.

Kitana’s fan! But why? Why is it there? I could understand the Kotal and Nightwolf references because Sonya has been researching, but why is Kitana’s fan randomly in an Earthrealm temple? Purely cheap fanservice.

Nitara was really cool. Shame she had to die, but her death was cool and there have to be some characters that get killed off. Wish she had more screentime though; feels like another instance of fanservice just having her show up basically as a namedrop and a quick kill.

The phrase “Are you okay?” was said WAY too much in this film. So much that I actually notices how often it was said, and I usually don’t pick up on these things.

Pretty sure a camera operator fell at one point in a Sonya scene because the camera jerked around violently all of the sudden then stabilized. Whoops.

How did Sub-Zero know to take Cole’s family to the gym? WHY did he take them there?

NEGATIVE

Opening scene was awesome, but it’s emotional impact felt stunted. I feel like the order of events should have been twisted a bit. Hanzo find his wife and son should have been the big emotional climax of the scene, but it felt like a passing moment and gave him no time to mourn and no time for the impact to truly set in with me. It was an “oh no they died” moment instead of an “ OH MY GOD THEY DIED THIS IS SO FUCKED FUCK YOU SUB-ZERO” moment. I dare say that the Legacy web series did it better in spite of their lower budget and overall quality; the series of events had better pacing and gave more emotional impact because of it. I said what I fucking said don’t @ me.

Wish we got more Scorpion. I love Sanada, I love him as Scorpion, but they didn’t give us the time we needed with his character to truly get a grasp of him.

Cole Young is like white bread in a parade of decorative cakes.

Raiden, a normally passionate and protective character whose fatal flaw is that he involves himself too much in events because he cares about the people in his realm and ends up fucking things up because of it, now seems to not care in the slightest. He feels completely uninvolved save for an occasional pop in to give a nod of disapproval. I don’t like this unemotional take on one of the most emotional characters in Mortal Kombat.

Small complaint from my perspective as a martial artist but uh...”Throw your uppercut!” was a bullshit line in a bullshit scene. If you’re locked up with someone like that and the guy has his arms around your neck, you physically cannot uppercut. You cannot fit your arms between his arms because they are cinched tightly around your shoulders/neck. YOUR HEAD is between your fist + bicep and HIS HEAD. In that situation, the guy has also left his body completely unguarded, so the most logical thing to do since you CANNOT reach his head is to go for BODY BLOWS. Beat him until he lets go to protect himself, catch his floating rib with double strikes, or punch the dude in his fucking liver as hard as you can to DROP HIM. Cole is supposed to be an experienced fighter, yet he makes one of the most rookie mistakes a fighter could ever make. Normally I wouldn’t care to point out mistakes in fight choreography or whatever because it’s MK and I expect ridiculousness, but this is the WRONG kind of ridiculous. It’s just NONSENSE.

I have SO MANY issues with Mileena. I’ll make this as short as I can. I don’t like the design of her mouth. I don’t like her weird stacked voice. She shows NO personality, not in her acting or even her fighting style, just an evil minion that got angry because she almost got her ass kicked. The turned one of the principle characters of the entire franchise and a fan favorite into a GRUNT. There is NO mention of Kitana outside of literal “fan”-service. Not even a reference to one of the most important plotlines in all of Mortal Kombat. And then they KILL HER OFF!!! When they do inevitably bring in Kitana WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY GOING TO DO SINCE THEY KILLED OFF MILEENA???? I’m heated and biased and they did my girl dirty.

Speaking of doing characters dirty, poor Reptile. They turned him into an actual animal. What a waste.

Why are they so mean to Sonya if she doesn’t have a mark? She wouldn’t be as much of a “liability” if they would take the time to prepare her and teach her how to defend against fighters that have unlocked their arcana. Mind-numbingly stupid logic.

This movie relies A LOT on prerequisite knowledge to work. It’s like they want fans to fill in the blanks for them. But not everyone watching is already a fan; this isn’t an obscure release, this is a blockbuster movie released worldwide. These gaps in lore and prior knowledge don’t make sense for such a broad audience.

Cole Young literally could have just been Johnny Cage.

Where was Raiden when his temple was being assaulted?

Cole’s arcana is LITERAL PLOT ARMOR IM FUCKING DONE

No but for real that’s the most boring decision they just ripped off Jax’s MK11 heater effect and Baraka’s blades (I know they’re tonfa and they aren’t attached and I DON’T CARE). Also, now he’s suddenly good at fighting again? After being dog shit this entire movie??? And tanks Goro?????

If Raiden is an Elder God in this continuity, why is he allowed to help Earthrealm AT ALL? It seems like favoritism and bends the rules that the Elder Gods are supposedly bound by way too much. They really just shouldn’t have made him an Elder God; I honestly think they just said it to introduce the concept without a fuck given towards the actual lore of the Elder Gods.

WHY DID RAIDEN TELEPORT KANO TO SONYA’S HOUSE AFTER HE BETRAYED THEM I HAD TO REWATCH THAT SEVERAL TIMES TO MAKE SURE I JUST SAW WHAT I SAW  WHAT THE ACTUAL NONSENSICAL FUCK

Cole REALLY should not have been involved in that last fight. Especially not after Scorpion shows up. It should have been Scorpion vs Sub-Zero ONLY for the final fight. Cole tag-teaming Sub-Zero with Scorpion cheapens Scorpion’s revenge.

Camera work in the final fight was not good, especially in the first portion. At one point Cole gets thrown into a fence, but it cuts to an awkward inverse angle that makes him look like he’s bouncing off of a trampoline. This continues to happen and ruins several shots for me.

Honestly Scorpion should have just possessed Cole. Permanently. No switching back and forth. No more Cole, only Scorpion.

PREDICTIONS

Lots of dead characters come back as revenants and / or with upgrades.

Kano comes back with cyber eye.

Mileena comes back with full teeth.

Liu Kang becomes MK champion, wins tournament, and kills Shang Tsung. As it should be.

Cole Young helps Liu Kang become champion somehow idk maybe he sacrifices himself or something just please don’t make Cole the champion I will start a riot.

Next movie will start IMMEDIATELY at the tournament since there was supposedly less than a month until the tournament starts in this movie.

New characters coming in will be Kitana, Shao Kahn, Jade, Quan Chi, Kuai Liang, Noob Saibot, Ermac, and Johnny Cage.

OVERALL

This movie was good, bloody fun! It’s not an A++ Oscar-winner, but if you expected that going into it, you played yourself. It was Mortal Kombat; it was stupid, it was gory, and I had a blast watching it. Kano and Liu Kang were the best parts of the movie for me, with Scorpion and Sub-Zero tied for third. Also I popped a lot for the cheap nostalgia hits. I’m overall satisfied with what we got in spite of my complaints, and I only complain so in-depth about the things I love lmao so trust me when I say I’m not actually mad, just nitpicky. I’ve watched it twice now, and I would watch it again. It’s like a 6.8/10 for me.

#mortal kombat spoilers #mk movie spoilers #spoilers tw #[ooc]

[enrychan]

Burakovsky fanfiction recs

ok so I read every single Burakovsky fanfic on AO3 (no, really) and I started thinking about writing down a list of those I particularly appreciate. because the Patho fandom is tiny, and the Burakovsky fandom is even tinier, but there are a lot of incredible talents in it, and they deserve all the recognition we can muster.

I apologize to those who did not make it into this list, unfortunately I can’t read Russian (for now... that might change in the future😏) AND I have very specific tastes. Which is why some authors are repeated more than once (sorry!). Also I’m following at least a couple of beautiful fanfics that are currently unfinished, and I’m probably gonna include those in the next list.

You’re all extremely talented though, and I hope to read more of your works very soon (do I refresh the Burakovsky tag each day? yes I do)

anyway here’s my list, in no particular order! Enjoy all the love, hate, death and philosophy!🥰

In Vivo by meradorm. After a long silence, the Haruspex travels to the capital to seek out his old companion.

Arguably the best fanfics in the Patho fandom; and one of the best fanfics I’ve ever read. The writing style simulates the first translation of Patho Classic, which was weird and sometimes almost incomprehensible, but somehow it enhanced the odd, alien experience of the first game. Using this particular and sometimes difficult language, this fanfic gives the impression of being an integral part of the original story. The characters and the love story are beautiful and raw, sweet and cruel, and the ending is so... so perfectly Pathologic it makes me angry. Prepare lots&lots of tissues because you’re gonna cry your eyes out!

How cleverly the trap is made by Modlisznik. "My apologies." Daniil clears his throat. "Usually I reserve views like this for at least fourth, maybe fifth date."

Ok yes I’m going to recommend a lot of fanfics by Modlisznik, I just really really like their style. This is one of my favorites because Daniil is so in character, trying his best to appear strong even while in pain and almost blind with one of his migraines... and I’m always weak for Artemy being sweet and caring for Daniil. Just *chef’s kiss* excellent

Of the Town and the Steppe by Modlisznik. Artemy wonders how Daniil feels about this vastness, autumnal grass as far as the eye can see, the sky so clear, hanging so low, so close you can almost touch it, you can almost get swallowed whole. Insignificant, a little speckle on the face of Earth. Daniil is a creature of the city, Artemy thinks, of clear boundaries, of walls to hide behind, of places to be alone in. He must feel exposed. I'm a bad host, Artemy thinks.

Just a romantic, intimate moment between our two idiots out in the steppe. Daniil imagining all the places in the Capital he would like to show Artemy is so unbearably sweet I think I’ve cavities now. Totally worth it though.

All about Blood by Modlisznik. Daniil is aware that Isidor has been murdered just a few days ago. That his memory is still fresh, his touch lingers in this place. That Daniil, an intruder, shouldn't come down here to Isidor’s workshop - his laboratory - his sanctum - and most certainly, he shouldn't be here to fuck Isidor’s son. Even less, to use the elder Burakh's table for that purpose. He's aware of that. He also doesn't care.

Hot damn. This fanfics pushes all my buttons at once and then dances on the keyboard just to be sure. Artemy/Daniil kinky sex? Check. On the stone table in Artemy’s lab? Check. Subtle power games between the two? Check. Artemy marking Daniil with his blood? Check. A sprinkle of bondage just to spice things up a bit? Check. Um... is it just me or it’s kind of hot in here?

The Line of Red by Modlisznik. Bachelor Dankovsky does not believe in luck. Artemy wants him to understand, that the charm he's offering will protect him - just not in the way Daniil thinks it does.

Another sweet moment brought to you by or Official Sweetheart Artemy Burakh: Artemy wants to give Daniil something to remind him that he’s not alone, even in his darkest moments, that Artemy is his tagloor. Daniil doesn’t understand all that steppe folklore, but recognizes a precious gift when he’s given one.

Something old, something new by Modlisznik. In which Artemy considers the importance of not being watched, and Murky's doll needs urgent medical attention.

Just an adorable fanfic and a joy to read from start to finish. Artemy is best dad, Murky is best daughter, Daniil is back with a new title, and I’m always ready for some teary-eyed happy reunions.

Bloodflood by Xyloto. A flood of blood to the heart.

Artemy is used to be on top, and the relative new experience of being on the receiving end doesn’t start particularly well for him, but he is determined to let Daniil have what he wants. Daniil has other ideas on the matter. I have a thing for “top that bottoms for his bottom”, and especially in this case because this fanfic is written beautifully. It keeps all the more abrasive traits of Artemy’s personality&speech, while remaining very sweet and romantic somehow.

A Curse Befalls Your Heart by CurrieBelle. Daniil Dankovsky suffers from a Steppe curse. Burakh performs triage.

Speaking of sweet and romantic, are you ready for a good bucket of literal honey? This is my comfort fanfic, the one I return to every once in a while when I need something soft and lovely to shut off my brain. Not only that, but the story is awesome too, because it is based on an actual canon curse in the Patho lore. Remember when Anna Angel was cursed with the “returning heart” in Patho 2? What if something similar happened to Daniil? Luckily, Artemy is there to help.

Ode to the Body by kylee. In which Bachelor and Haruspex flatter each other shamelessly.

The Powers That Be have always destroyed Daniil’s self esteem by reducing him to a list of failures. Artemy wants him to understand that he’s not just his failures, nor his accomplishments, but so much more. Sex ensues. Praise kink anyone??? (yes please)

life overflowing by Yellow. Artemy needs someone to look at what he's done, to see he's done well, to take over for him, his head and his heart. just for a little while.

This is both lovely and kind of heartbreaking, with some suicidal tendencies/ideation? I feel it is completely appropriate after all Artemy has gone through by this point in the story. But Daniil doesn’t have any intention of letting him go.

Vae Soli by Adoxography. Daniil becomes Artemy's unwilling caretaker when Artemy is infected with the Sand Pest and is forced to take a Shmowder to cure himself, or die in the attempt.

There are a lot of sick fics in the Patho fandom (obviously), but I particularly love this one because it doesn’t embellish the pitiful state of Artemy, caught between two terrible ailments, nor makes Daniil appear too soft and generous. There is rivalry between the two idiots (as it should be), but also trust and even some attraction on Daniil’s part. In other words, it rings true and believable!

sub derma by Jagged. Dankovsky takes to the Town better than he thinks, but less than he'd like. Artemy would know.

Super sexy fanfic! dom!Daniil turns Artemy on with some pain play which Artemy is only too happy to be subjected to. I just love the power dynamic between the two, it’s visceral and even a little bit cruel at times, but the absolute trust they have in each other makes everything weirdly romantic.

foreign bodies by hoverbun. They have some time to themselves between dissections and the sharing of alms.

So it turns out that I also have a Thing for fics about shaving. apparently??? Artemy has some free time and a beard to get rid of. He asks Daniil for help with that. And everyone knows there are few things sexier than a hot doctor with a very sharp blade pointed at your throat!

I hope you blink before I do by vespirus. Maybe he was fated to gravitate towards men like these; the men with loose morals, the men who understood what it meant to be an arbiter of life and death decisions, the men who felt the weight of the future on their shoulders. Or maybe he just had an inescapable interest in the macabre.

AU fanfic about Daniil as an unscrupulous researcher and Artemy as a medical undergraduate willing to kill to make enough money to keep living and studying in the Capital. In other words they are both horrible people, and the tension between them is so thick you could slice it with a knife. There also a sequel, but it’s a death fic and I personally don’t like that. I hope the author will write an alternative ending where they become an awesome couple of gay criminals in love sooner or later!

#pathologic #burakovsky #haruspex #bachelor #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #bull blood snake heart #long post

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 4: The EED: Emotional Exposition Dump. Or why THIS is not friendship

So here we are. The last part of this 45 page three parter, meant to be about what Sam really means to the crew. And what have we seen so far in the previous parts? That Sam is not just their underappreciated, but downright exploited slave (yeah, did you know that in ancient Greece slaves supposedly had more rights than Sam in this one? At least they could buy out their freedom one day), that Dobson has no idea how to genuinely pace a story, turning what could have been a decent 100 page story if planned out and presented with more care into a 45 page short snore fest and that Hat Andy’s idea for jokes are either based on abusing token buttmonkeys, turning annoying memes into even more unfunny jokes or making dark comedy with dead orphans.

At least when South Park makes jokes about children dying, they are appropriate in that dark setting and the death is still in some way handled or refered to as a horrific event. In Dobson’s case however, it just leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

Sorry, I just can’t get over the orphanage thing. If Dobson wanted the reason for Sam leaving be that he finds out someone he cared about from his old life is dead, that is one thing. But did this asshole have to destroy an entire building with countless victims to do it? Couldn’t he just have one person die and the rest be still at that place? Honestly, I think it would have been funnier and more meaningful emotionally, if Alex and Co actually interacted with people from Sam’s past and in doing so learn more about him as a person, by genuinely visiting a still standing orphanage. Give the comic some meat on the bones and in doing so actually create the impression this comic is truly about Sam and not just about characters doing random stuff in relation to finding him. Instead Dobson goes for a literal overkill, which he then does not even treat as a tragedy but as a joke.

Dobson, THIS is a better and more dignified joke about orphans than the shit you did.

You got outclassed by Chuck Lorree of all people on this planet, you disgrace of a storyteller. A storyteller who can’t even keep his own barely existing continuity in the Alex-verse straight, now that I think of it. After all, according to Legends, the orphanage was closed and all the orphans were sold out to others, with Sam being the last of the litter

Which again is just unintentionally more horrific than Dobson likely intented. But you know, dumb people don’t know when they do dumb shit.

But I digress Let us just get into the last part. In which we finally see the “emotional” pay off of everything that happened so far.

 Spoilers, this is my reaction to that pay off.

And here is what everything led up to now.

 Sam ran away, because he wants to say his final farewell to his sister figure, we never knew about at all and about whom we do not learn one single thing really.

 Where do I begin with how this revelation fails?

Let’s start with the fact that this in execution does not have the emotional impact that was intended. And why is that? Because Dobson doesn’t bother to actually introduce us to the sister as a character.

If I may digress a bit to talk about One Piece here: In the manga, oftentimes Oda will “interrupt” an ongoing story arc to feature flashback chapters, through which he tells about past events referenced in the “present” chapters prior. Through those flashbacks he further gives meaning to why in present time the characters facing certain foes or having to win in their current situation, is so important, even on an emotional level. In short, those flashbacks are no interruptions, they are integral in giving those story arcs emotional weight.

Because now we are not just “told” why we should care about things and people, we have been shown why we should care. The old rule of “show, don’t tell” being followed on.

A good example from a more “recent” storyline I can think of, is through the flashback chapters of the Dress Rosa story arc, where we are not only being shown how De Flamingo took over the kingdom of Dress Rosa and brought pain and misery over its people for years to come, but also the past of characters such as the gladiator Rebecca and Mr. Soldier, her father figure that raised her up from the time she was 10 and De Flamingo took over… only for the flashbacks to also reveal properly how Mr Soldier is not just a father figure for her that took her in, but her biological father Kyros, who had been turned into a toy by one of De Flamingo’s henchmen via a power, that also took Rebecca’s memories of her dad away so she never identified the toy as her dad.

This way Oda achieves multiple things at once; Among other things, he establishes how evil De Flamingo is, how tragic Mr Soldier and Rebecca’s lives really are, adding to us the readers wanting to see them and Luffy beat De Flamingo into a pulp and it makes the later “present day” moment when Mr. Soldier and many other victims turn back to normal and Rebecca regains her memories and is reunited with her dad so much more sweeter. Cause now we care.

Truth be told, I myself believe that Oda is one of few storytellers on this planet, who truly has “mastered” the technique of emotional flashback storytelling.

A technique Dobson could have used in this part of the story, but didn’t. Cause honestly, the way he tells how Sam’s sister was “important” to our poor cabin boy is not emotionally engaging from a storytelling perspective. We are told she is important, but we learn genuinely nothing about her, not even what her name was and what she looked like except from that one picture in the locket from over 15 pages ago. Nothing about how “close” she and Sam truly were is revealed through showing, only telling and as such we don’t even begin to care for her relationship with Sam and how her loss is genuinely important to him. So the main goal of this story, to make us the readers feel something for Sam aside of pity for how he is treated by his supposed friends, has not been achieved.

 … Dobson, you are a hack. You can’t even use flashbacks, a basic technique in the realm of storytelling, to show us why we should “care” more, heck, even at all, about Sam and his loss.

If you just had adjusted a few things, you could have had something good here.

By adjustments I mean the following: Take the first page of this chapter as well as the first panel of the second page, and combine them into the final page of the previous chapter. In doing so creating a proper cliffhanger for part two. Then start chapter 3 of with a few pages (lets say 6 or so) showing young Sam and his sister interacting in the orphanage in doing so turning her from a nameless plotdevice into a genuine person to care about. And then use content of page 2 and 3 of this chapter, to elaborate on their relationship, potentially with small cuts always between present day Sam at the grave explaining himself and saying his farewells, with pictures of the past showing what they meant to each other.

 But nope. This very basic idea a fanfic writer now has come up with, a fanfic writer who never studied literature or took writing classes by the way, something I doubt you did at college the more I read your work, has never crossed your “superior” mind.

Also, I find Sam’s text on page 3 really, really backwards in a way. Like, I get that we are meant to consider it a good thing Sam is this way. You know, being genuinely selfless and wanting to make others happy. And don’t get me wrong, generosity and selflessness are virtues I hold in high regard. But the way Sam talks about how he just wanted her to be happy while sacrificing any fulfillment of basic needs for himself feels more like a pathological disorder in that case than something to reach for. In fact, psychology speaks from different forms of generosity and the thing Sam describes here is likely “compulsive giving” or “unrelenting generosity”, a pathological variant that can be highly toxic for all people affected by it.

Funny how Dobson, a person who wants to claim he is all for mental healthcare, is essentially “promoting” the positivity of a psychological disorder via Sam.

 Then again, this also feels more like Dobson putting words into Sam’s mouth (in a literal sense) to retroactively make Sam’s treatment look less horrid. Cause now Sam doesn’t just do all the work because he is ordered around, he deep down is “happy” doing all of the work and gain not even some basic respect in return, because he cares so deeply for his friends.

… I feel myself get livid again here.

And the next few pages don’t really help me “calm down”.

 Cause now the “justifications” just go on. The thing that is meant to be a heartfelt farewell turning into Sam “justifying” that hey, it must be good that he ended up with Alex and her crew. Cause after all, by being abducted years ago and being treated as a slave who in the ginger’s eyes is worth less than lint, he likely avoided dying of shitting his pants and a crushing roof. Ignoring the fact that he was going to be sold out anyway back then and would have potentially ended up with a more generous master than the crew of non Captain Syrup.

Also, just all of the shit going on in page 6. Sam asking his “sister” to be at peace, when likely, if the girl could still talk, she may even just ask Sam the following: Who the heck are you. Cause really, if you think about it, if Sam did all the nice things for her in secret, did the girl even realize she had a “big brother” figure to watch over her? Also, him saying he is happy and he is doing quite alright for himself?

All the pictures of him sighing and looking in misery in this story alone, plus the cavalry of strips I posted about how Sam is abused in the first part of this post series tells me another story.

Finally, Sam’s message “At least now, we are both free”? Sam, she is dead, likely having died in pain when a house crushed on her, weakened by a deadly disease and traumatized by other children around her dying of said disease. And you are stuck with a bunch of people that haven’t shown to care for you up until this story and the only reason they may even care for you now is out of “sympathy” because you lost your sister figure, not because they genuinely love and care for you as a person. As far as I am concerned, you would be better off being the slaveboy of some nymphomanic pirate princess in the world of Berserk than you are on this plane of existence.

And now that the “emotional” farewell is out of the way, Dobson can go back to focus on the characters he really cares about in this shit anyway: Little Bitch Annie, lesbian chocolate rain Miroku and Deadpool’s pubes.

 Oh Alex, you are such a rascal. You really make me want to shoot you with a crossbow, stab you in the eye, hurl you out a window and shove explosives where the sun won’t shine.

Yeah yeah, you are a pirate, but that doesn’t mean you need to be that awful as a person or even protagonist.

Christ. For someone who complains how toxic Walter White is to the point he believes “sympathizing” with the character turns you into a nazi, Dobson certainly is blind to how awful Alex really is, particularly as protagonist in a comic series intented for little kids. Compared to her, I can think of freaking slasher movie villains with more of a moral compass. Like say what you want about Jigsaw, at least he never victimized genuine children or teenagers.

And Talus, thanks for ruining the “emotional” moment Sam “earned” by pointing out how weird it is he kissed a gravestone. Also, I am glad I know what happens in the next pages or else I would assume Alex’s great idea includes to dig up his sister and turn her into a life sized doll for Sam to cuddle.

No, their ideas to assure he is emotionally save and to redeem themselves for years of taking him for granted/hurting him, is to throw him a surprise party.

… you know, I think you may be the only individuals in fiction, that Pinkie Pie would think do not deserve to throw a party or get one thrown for.

 But I guess Sam is just so nice, he even throws you a party for no apparent reason.

Either that or now that his “sister” is dead he will overcompensate even more and this is the next destructive stage of his compulsive generosity.

… Sam, I am sorry for your loss. But you need to get help. Once by the authorities who will hopefully get rid of Alex and then by some psychologist who helps you redefine your own self worth.

By the way, I find it funny that the banner he made also actually only mentions Talus, Atea and Captain Daphne with a bad hair day. It just confirms that Peggy either never bothered to join the others or that Dobson developed an early onset of dementia and totally forgot about the fact that the midget is a genuine character in this trainwrack. And I am convinced the later is the case, which really just makes me wonder how someone is able to do that. To forget a major character of the thing they create and want to turn into a money making franchise. Imagine if Disney did e.g. a sequel to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, only to forget about the god damn dwarves themselves.

At least Talus finally realizes he is unworthy to get a party thrown or be Sam’s friends. Good. Now jump into a wood chipper and free ourselves from your existence you dog beaver thing.

Content of the next page in a just alternate universe… Alex: You are a better human being than I could ever be and this is all because my creator is a hack who does not know how to create genuinely likable personalities.

The reality:

 FUCK YOU, ALEX! FUCK YOU AND THE BIKE PUMP YOU FLEW IN ON! Atea and Talus have learnt more than you about what it means to be a friend and they don’t even bother to punch you in the face for still being the biggest red haired  raging cunt since Asuka from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

If this is how Dobson thinks “friends” should treat each other, it is no wonder he has a friendless background. Hey, Hat Andy, if you want to emulate manga, may I suggest you just become even more blatantly about it and simply copy paste One Piece? Cause Luffy at least knows how to be a friend. How much does he care for his friends, strangers and even at times former enemies of his?

He cares so much, that e.g. when a special military force that beat the crap out of him got hands on his crewmate Nico Robin, he did THIS:

He declared war on the world government. Fuck, even Jack Sparrow, who is an opportunistic jackass, in a movie where everyone stabs the others at least three times in the back, was less selffish than Alex, when he gave up his chance on immortality as Captain of the Flying Dutchman, just so Will would live in some form.

Metalbeard from the Lego Movie cared more about doing the right thing than anyone in Alex the pirate did. You created the worst friends and “heroes” I have ever seen in a webcomic since the entirety of sinfest. Congratulations for that accomplishment, Dobson. It really takes a special kind of anti-talent to show such level of not understanding the power of friendship as one of the most basic tropes in storytelling, to the point a show about pastel colored equines managed to profit of it for nine years.

 WOOOOO! We are the worst, we are the worst!

And look, Uncle Pennywise’s scrotum is back.

Anyway, here are the last two pages of this thing, to end on what is meant to be a whimsical note because Sam actually gets something from Alex that is not a beating or verbal abuse.

 Too bad anything that would feel heartwarming about this is drowned by a) me actually remembering all the shit Alex, the crew and the writer pull to get to this point (from abusive neglect of the characters to pathetic emotional manipulation on a narrative level) and b) the weird rapey face Uncle Peggy makes in the picture. Like Jesus, did Dobson try to emulate the Burger King here?

But hey, this story is over. And who knows, perhaps from this moment on, Sam will actually be treated better overall in the comic and Dobson will spend time actually developing an overall plot and the world of this com-

Tom Kenny: ONE COMIC STRIP LATER

And it is back to business as usual.

... How much would I need to pay for someone on the internet to write an alternate ending to the story where it turns out Sam actually poisoned the food at the party and while Alex is slowly dying, a now evil Sam who has finally broke under years of abuse, is going to become a genuine threatening pirat? that is after he villain monologues to Alex how much she sucks before scalping her?

Wow, I am entering a dark place right now. I think I need to take a break.

So I am going to give my final verdict on this story with the next post around the weekend most likely. Cause that is how much time I will now spend rereading One Piece and watching the Pirates of the Carribean movies in addition to playing the Pirates level of Kingdom Hearts 3, in order to forget this shit and remind myself why I think pirates are cool.

#andrew dobson #alex ze pirate #fuck you #hat andy #tom preston #so you are a cartoonist #syac #comic #webcomic #pirates #sam the cabin boy #atea #talus #one piece #magic of friendship this is not

[kkintle]

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy; Quotes

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

“I always loved you, and if one loves any one, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.”

“Is this life? I am not living, but waiting for an event, which is continually put off and put off.”

Then, for the first time, grasping that for every man, and himself too, there was nothing in store but suffering, death, and forgetfulness, he had made up his mind that life was impossible like that, and that he must either interpret life so that it would not present itself to him as the evil jest of some devil, or shoot himself.

“Some think marriage a game; for others it is the most serious business of their lives.”

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” (...)

“Vengeance is mine,I will repay.”

“Yes, she won’t forgive me, and she can’t forgive me. And the most awful thing about it is that it’s all my fault—all my fault, though I’m not to blame. That’s the point of the whole situation,” he reflected.

There was no solution, but that universal solution which life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day—that is, forget oneself.

They were fond of one another in spite of the difference of their characters and tastes, as friends are fond of one another who have been together in early youth.

He had heard that women often did care for ugly and ordinary men, but he did not believe it, for he judged by himself, and he could not himself have loved any but beautiful, mysterious, and exceptional women.

He walked down, for a long while avoiding looking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does the sun, without looking.

“Why, of course,” objected Stepan Arkadyevitch. “But that’s just the aim of civilization—to make everything a source of enjoyment.”

Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. He so well knew that feeling of Levin’s, that for him all the girls in the world were divided into two classes: one class—all the girls in the world except her, and those girls with all sorts of human weaknesses, and very ordinary girls: the other class—she alone, having no weaknesses of any sort and higher than all humanity.

‘Forgive me not according to my unworthiness, but according to Thy loving-kindness.’

“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”

There are people who, on meeting a successful rival, no matter in what, are at once disposed to turn their backs on everything good in him, and to see only what is bad. There are people, on the other hand, who desire above all to find in that lucky rival the qualities by which he has outstripped them, and seek with a throbbing ache at heart only what is good.

(...) If one forgives, it must be completely, completely.

Anna was unmistakably admiring her loveliness and her youth: before Kitty knew where she was she found herself not merely under Anna’s sway, but in love with her, as young girls do fall in love with older and married women. Anna was not like a fashionable lady, nor the mother of a boy of eight years old. In the elasticity of her movements, the freshness and the unflagging eagerness which persisted in her face and broke out in her smile and her glance, she would rather have passed for a girl of twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times mournful look in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt that Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, complex and poetic.

“So now you know whom you’ve got to do with. And if you think you’re lowering yourself, well, here’s the floor, there’s the door.”

“With friends, one is well; but at home, one is better,” (...)

“Well, there’s nothing to be done. . . . It’s not my fault. But now everything shall go on in a new way. It’s nonsense to pretend that life won’t let one, that the past won’t let one. One must struggle to live better, much better.”

“Every heart has its own skeletons, as the English say.”

She had no need to ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her that he was here to be where she was.

As though tears were the indispensable oil, without which the machinery of mutual confidence could not run smoothly between the two sisters, the sisters after their tears talked, not of what was uppermost in their minds, but, though they talked of outside matters, they understood each other.

“ (...) ‘No one is satisfied with his fortune, and every one is satisfied with his wit.’ ” The attaché repeated the French saying.

He felt what a murderer must feel, when he sees the body he has robbed of life. That body, robbed by him of life, was their love, the first stage of their love. There was something awful and revolting in the memory of what had been bought at this fearful price of shame. Shame at their spiritual nakedness crushed her and infected him. But in spite of all the murderer’s horror before the body of his victim, he must hack it to pieces, hide the body, must use what he has gained by his murder.

“ (...) There, do you see, you know the type of Ossian’s women . . . Women, such as one sees in dreams . . . Well, these women are sometimes to be met in reality . . . and these women are terrible. Woman, don’t you know, is such a subject that however much you study it, it’s always perfectly new.” “Well, then, it would be better not to study it.” “No. Some mathematician has said that enjoyment lies in the search for truth, not in the finding it.”

In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last year’s leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth of the grass. “Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!”

“Count the sands of the sea, number the stars. (...)”

“The great thing’s to keep quiet before a race,” said he; “don’t get out of temper or upset about anything.”

He was angry with all of them for their interference just because he felt in his soul that they, all these people, were right.

This child’s presence called up both in Vronsky and in Anna a feeling akin to the feeling of a sailor who sees by the compass that the direction in which he is swiftly moving is far from the right one, but that to arrest his motion is not in his power, that every instant is carrying him farther and farther away, and that to admit to himself his deviation from the right direction is the same as admitting his certain ruin.

(...) like a man who, after vainly attempting to extinguish a fire, should fly in a rage with his vain efforts and say, “Oh, very well then! you shall burn for this!”

(...) “we mustn’t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development.”

“Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness’ sake don’t suppose,” her eyes added, “that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you.” “I like you too, and you’re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time,” answered the eyes of the unknown girl.

“Perhaps so,” said the prince, squeezing her hand with his elbow; “but it’s better when one does good so that you may ask every one and no one knows.”

“But time’s money, you forget that,” said the colonel. “Time, indeed, that depends! Why, there’s time one would give a month of for sixpence, and time you wouldn’t give half an hour of for any money.

“ (...) I’ll be bad; but anyway not a liar, a cheat.”

“(...) while you have at your disposal a means of helping them, and don’t help them because to your mind it’s of no importance.” And Sergey Ivanovitch put before him the alternative: either you are so undeveloped that you can’t see all that you can do, or you won’t sacrifice your ease, your vanity, or whatever it is, to do it.

“I imagine,” he said, “that no sort of activity is likely to be lasting if it is not founded on self-interest, that’s a universal principle, a philosophical principle,” (...)

Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand; but there were good moments too when she saw nothing but the joy, nothing but gold.

Hypocrisy in anything whatever may deceive the cleverest and most penetrating man, but the least wide-awake of children recognizes it, and is revolted by it, however ingeniously it may be disguised.

“No,” he said to himself, “however good that life of simplicity and toil may be, I cannot go back to it. I love her.”

He experienced the sensations of a man who has had a tooth out after suffering long from toothache. After a fearful agony and a sense of something huge, bigger than the head itself, being torn out of his jaw, the sufferer, hardly able to believe in his own good luck, feels all at once that what has so long poisoned his existence and enchained his attention, exists no longer, and that he can live and think again, and take interest in other things besides his tooth.

“It is a misfortune which may befall any one. And this misfortune has befallen me. The only thing to be done is to make the best of the position.”

And it was not the necessity of concealment, not the aim with which the concealment was contrived, but the process of concealment itself which attracted her.

“To sleep well one ought to work, and to enjoy oneself one ought to work too.”

Every man who knows to the minutest details all the complexity of the conditions surrounding him, cannot help imagining that the complexity of these conditions, and the difficulty of making them clear, is something exceptional and personal, peculiar to himself, and never supposes that others are surrounded by just as complicated an array of personal affairs as he is.

“The manner of life you have chosen is reflected, I suppose, in your ideas.”

When Sviazhsky had finished, Levin could not help asking: “Well, and what then?” But there was nothing to follow. It was simply interesting that it had been proved to be so and so. But Sviazhsky did not explain, and saw no need to explain why it was interesting to him.

“I work, I want to do something, but I had forgotten it must all end; I had forgotten—death.”

The position was one of misery for all three; and not one of them would have been equal to enduring this position for a single day, if it had not been for the expectation that it would change, that it was merely a temporary painful ordeal which would pass over.

By gymnastics and careful attention to his health he had brought himself to such a point that in spite of his excess in pleasure he looked as fresh as a big glossy green Dutch cucumber.

She laid her two hands on his shoulders, and looked a long while at him with a profound, passionate, and at the same time searching look. She was studying his face to make up for the time she had not seen him. She was, every time she saw him, making the picture of him in her imagination (incomparably superior, impossible in reality) fit with him as he really was.

Then he had thought himself unhappy, but happiness was before him; now he felt that the best happiness was already left behind.

He looked at her as a man looks at a faded flower he has gathered, with difficulty recognizing in it the beauty for which he picked and ruined it. And in spite of this he felt that then, when his love was stronger, he could, if he had greatly wished it, have torn that love out of his heart; but now, when as at that moment it seemed to him he felt no love for her, he knew that what bound him to her could not be broken.

“It is old; but do you know, when you grasp this fully, then somehow everything becomes of no consequence. When you understand that you will die to-morrow, if not to-day, and nothing will be left, then everything is so unimportant!

(...) no difference is less easily overcome than the difference of opinion about semi-abstract questions, (...)

“What is horrible in a trouble of this kind is that one cannot, as in any other—in loss, in death—bear one’s trouble in peace, but that one must act,” said he, as though guessing her thought. “One must get out of the humiliating position in which one is placed; one can’t live á trois.”

“One may save any one who does not want to be ruined; but if the whole nature is so corrupt, so depraved, that ruin itself seems to her salvation, what’s to be done?”

“What do they want to argue for? No one ever convinces any one, you know.” “Yes; that’s true,” said Levin; “it generally happens that one argues warmly simply because one can’t make out what one’s opponent wants to prove.”

(...) he had firmly decided in his heart; but he could not tear out of his heart his regret at the loss of her love, he could not erase from his memory those moments of happiness that he had so little prized at the time, and that haunted him in all their charm.

“Doubt is natural to the weakness of mankind,” (...)

“There’s some sense in this custom of saying good-bye to bachelor life,” said Sergey Ivanovitch. “However happy you may be, you must regret your freedom.”

In reality, those who in Vronsky’s opinion had the “proper” view had no sort of view at all, but behaved in general as well-bred persons do behave in regard to all the complex and insoluble problems with which life is encompassed on all sides; they behaved with propriety, avoiding allusions and unpleasant questions. They assumed an air of fully comprehending the import and force of the situation, of accepting and even approving of it, but of considering it superfluous and uncalled for to put all this into words.

The thought of the harm caused to her husband aroused in her a feeling like repulsion, and akin to what a drowning man might feel who has shaken off another man clinging to him. That man did drown. It was an evil action, of course, but it was the sole means of escape, and better not to brood over these fearful facts.

Never did he work with such fervor and success as when things went ill with him, (...)

And the most experienced and adroit painter could not by mere mechanical facility paint anything if the lines of the subject were not revealed to him first.

He knew that Vronsky could not be prevented from amusing himself with painting; he knew that he and all dilettanti had a perfect right to paint what they liked, but it was distasteful to him. A man could not be prevented from making himself a big wax doll, and kissing it. But if the man were to come with the doll and sit before a man in love, and begin caressing his doll as the lover caressed the woman he loved, it would be distasteful to the lover. Just such a distasteful sensation was what Mihailov felt at the sight of Vronsky’s painting: he felt it both ludicrous and irritating, both pitiable and offensive.

At every step he experienced what a man would experience who, after admiring the smooth, happy course of a little boat on a lake, should get himself into that little boat. He saw that it was not all sitting still, floating smoothly; that one had to think too, not for an instant to forget where one was floating; and that there was water under one, and that one must row; and that his unaccustomed hands would be sore; and that it was only to look at it that was easy; but that doing it, though very delightful, was very difficult.

But it is hard for anyone who is dissatisfied not to blame some one else, and especially the person nearest of all to him, for the ground of his dissatisfaction

“He’s just one of those people of whom they say they’re not for this world.”

He was nine years old; he was a child; but he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no one into his soul.

One may sit for several hours at a stretch with one’s legs crossed in the same position, if one knows that there’s nothing to prevent one’s changing one’s position; but if a man knows that he must remain sitting so with crossed legs, then cramps come on, the legs begin to twitch and to strain towards the spot to which one would like to draw them.

She had prepared everything but the words she should say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of it, she could never think of anything.

(...) and slightly turning, was saying something to Yashvin. The setting of her head on her handsome, broad shoulders, and the restrained excitement and brilliance of her eyes and her whole face reminded him of her just as he had seen her at the ball in Moscow. But he felt utterly different towards her beauty now. In his feeling for her now there was no element of mystery, and so her beauty, though it attracted him even more intensely than before, gave him now a sense of injury.

“You think he can’t fall in love,” said Kitty, translating into her own language. “It’s not so much that he can’t fall in love,” Levin said, smiling, “but he has not the weakness necessary.... I’ve always envied him, and even now, when I’m so happy, I still envy him.” “You envy him for not being able to fall in love?” “I envy him for being better than I,” said Levin. “He does not live for himself. His whole life is subordinated to his duty. And that’s why he can be calm and contented.”

“I don’t think anything,” she said, “but I always loved you, and if one loves any one, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be....”

“It’s our Russian apathy,” said Vronsky, pouring water from an iced decanter into a delicate glass on a high stem; “we’ve no sense of the duties our privileges impose upon us, and so we refuse to recognize these duties.”

But her chief thought was still of herself—how far she was dear to Vronsky, how far she could make up to him for all he had given up. Vronsky appreciated this desire not only to please, but to serve him, which had become the sole aim of her existence, but at the same time he wearied of the loving snares in which she tried to hold him fast. As time went on, and he saw himself more and more often held fast in these snares, he had an ever-growing desire, not so much to escape from them, as to try whether they hindered his freedom.

“But you say it’s an institution that’s served its time.” “That it may be, but still it ought to be treated a little more respectfully. Snetkov, now ... We may be of use, or we may not, but we’re the growth of a thousand years. If we’re laying out a garden, planning one before the house, you know, and there you’ve a tree that’s stood for centuries in the very spot... Old and gnarled it may be, and yet you don’t cut down the old fellow to make room for the flowerbeds, but lay out your beds so as to take advantage of the tree. You won’t grow him again in a year,” (...)

But, as he told her, the more he did nothing, the less time he had to do anything.

“If you look for perfection, you will never be satisfied. And it’s true, as papa says,—that when we were brought up there was one extreme—we were kept in the basement, while our parents lived in the best rooms; now it’s just the other way—the parents are in the wash-house, while the children are in the best rooms. Parents now are not expected to live at all, but to exist altogether for their children.” “Well, what if they like it better?”

(...) felt a great weariness from the fruitless strain on his attention.

Anna had come from behind the treillage to meet him, and Levin saw in the dim light of the study the very woman of the portrait, in a dark blue shot gown, not in the same position nor with the same expression, but with the same perfection of beauty which the artist had caught in the portrait. She was less dazzling in reality, but, on the other hand, there was something fresh and seductive in the living woman which was not in the portrait.

Anna talked not merely naturally and cleverly, but cleverly and carelessly, attaching no value to her own ideas and giving great weight to the ideas of the person she was talking to.

If you knew how I feel on the brink of calamity at this instant, how afraid I am of myself!”

There are no conditions to which a man cannot become used, especially if he sees that all around him are living in the same way.

Yet that grief and this joy were alike outside all the ordinary conditions of life; they were loopholes, as it were, in that ordinary life through which there came glimpses of something sublime. And in the contemplation of this sublime something the soul was exalted to inconceivable heights of which it had before had no conception, while reason lagged behind, unable to keep up with it.

But as he looked at her, he saw again that help was impossible, and he was filled with terror and prayed: “Lord, have mercy on us, and help us!” And as time went on, both these conditions became more intense; the calmer he became away from her, completely forgetting her, the more agonizing became both her sufferings and his feeling of helplessness before them. He jumped up, would have liked to run away, but ran to her. Sometimes, when again and again she called upon him, he blamed her; but seeing her patient, smiling face, and hearing the words, “I am worrying you,” he threw the blame on God; but thinking of God, at once he fell to beseeching God to forgive him and have mercy.

In order to carry through any undertaking in family life, there must necessarily be either complete division between the husband and wife, or loving agreement. When the relations of a couple are vacillating and neither one thing nor the other, no sort of enterprise can be undertaken.

She was jealous not of any particular woman but of the decrease of his love. Not having got an object for her jealousy, she was on the lookout for it. At the slightest hint she transferred her jealousy from one object to another.

This irritated Anna. She saw in this a contemptuous reference to her occupations. And she bethought her of a phrase to pay him back for the pain he had given her. “I don’t expect you to understand me, my feelings, as any one who loved me might, but simple delicacy I did expect,” she said.

For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, and was horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution. But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could not restrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him that he was wrong, could not give way to him.

“(...) What’s so awful is that one can’t tear up the past by its roots. One can’t tear it out, but one can hide one’s memory of it. And I’ll hide it.”

“He thought he knew me. Well, he knows me as well as any one in the world knows me. I don’t know myself.”

“We all want what is sweet and nice. If not sweetmeats, then a dirty ice.”

“Yes, of what Yashvin says, the struggle for existence and hatred is the one thing that holds men together. No, it’s a useless journey you’re making,” she said, mentally addressing a party in a coach and four, evidently going for an excursion into the country. “And the dog you’re taking with you will be no help to you. You can’t get away from yourselves.”

Then she thought that life might still be happy, and how miserably she loved and hated him, and how fearfully her heart was beating.

“Yes, I’m very much worried, and that’s what reason was given me for, to escape; so then one must escape: why not put out the light when there’s nothing more to look at, when it’s sickening to look at it all? But how?”

“There’s no one I should less dislike seeing than you,” said Vronsky. “Excuse me; and there’s nothing in life for me to like.”

And all at once a different pain, not an ache, but an inner trouble, that set his whole being in anguish, made him for an instant forget his toothache.

And he tried to think of her as she was when he met her the first time, at a railway-station too, mysterious, exquisite, loving, seeking and giving happiness, and not cruelly revengeful as he remembered her on that last moment. He tried to recall his best moments with her, but those moments were poisoned forever. He could only think of her as triumphant, successful in her menace of a wholly useless remorse never to be effaced. He lost all consciousness of toothache, and his face worked with sobs.

Levin felt suddenly like a man who has changed his warm fur cloak for a muslin garment, and going for the first time into the frost is immediately convinced, not by reason, but by his whole nature that he is as good as naked, and that he must infallibly perish miserably.

(...) something had happened that seemed extraordinary to him. He, an unbeliever, had fallen into praying, and at the moment he prayed, he believed. But that moment had passed, and he could not make his state of mind at that moment fit into the rest of his life. He could not admit that at that moment he knew the truth, and that now he was wrong; for as soon as he began thinking calmly about it, it all fell to pieces. He could not admit that he was mistaken then, for his spiritual condition then was precious to him, and to admit that it was a proof of weakness would have been to desecrate those moments. He was miserably divided against himself, and strained all his spiritual forces to the utmost to escape from this condition.

“Without knowing what I am and why I am here, life’s impossible; and that I can’t know, and so I can’t live,” Levin said to himself. “In infinite time, in infinite matter, in infinite space, is formed a bubble-organism, and that bubble lasts a while and bursts, and that bubble is Me.” It was an agonizing error, but it was the sole logical result of ages of human thought in that direction. This was the ultimate belief on which all the systems elaborated by human thought in almost all their ramifications rested. It was the prevalent conviction, and of all other explanations Levin had unconsciously, not knowing when or how, chosen it, as any way the clearest, and made it his own. But it was not merely a falsehood, it was the cruel jeer of some wicked power, some evil, hateful power, to whom one could not submit. He must escape from this power. And the means of escape every man had in his own hands. He had but to cut short this dependence on evil. And there was one means—death.

Whether he were acting rightly or wrongly he did not know, and far from trying to prove that he was, nowadays he avoided all thought or talk about it. Reasoning had brought him to doubt, and prevented him from seeing what he ought to do and what he ought not. When he did not think, but simply lived, he was continually aware of the presence of an infallible judge in his soul, determining which of two possible courses of action was the better and which was the worse, and as soon as he did not act rightly, he was at once aware of it. So he lived, not knowing and not seeing any chance of knowing what he was and what he was living for, and harassed at this lack of knowledge to such a point that he was afraid of suicide, and yet firmly laying down his own individual definite path in life.

“Then she recovered, but to-day or to-morrow or in ten years she won’t; they’ll bury her, and nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the red jacket, who with that skilful, soft action shakes the ears out of their husks. They’ll bury her and this piebald horse, and very soon too,”

“Yes, all the newspapers do say the same thing,” said the prince. “That’s true. But so it is the same thing that all the frogs croak before a storm. One can hear nothing for them.”

“The people make sacrifices and are ready to make sacrifices for their soul, but not for murder,”

“Were you very much frightened?” she said. “So was I too, but I feel it more now that it’s over. (...)”

“What is it? you’re not worried about anything?” she said, looking intently at his face in the starlight. But she could not have seen his face if a flash of lightning had not hidden the stars and revealed it. In that flash she saw his face distinctly, and seeing him calm and happy, she smiled at him.

“No, I’d better not speak of it,” he thought, when she had gone in before him. “It is a secret for me alone, of vital importance for me, and not to be put into words. “This new feeling has not changed me, has not made me happy and enlightened all of a sudden, as I had dreamed, just like the feeling for my child. There was no surprise in this either. Faith—or not faith—I don’t know what it is—but this feeling has come just as imperceptibly through suffering, and has taken firm root in my soul. “I shall go on in the same way, losing my temper with Ivan the coachman, falling into angry discussions, expressing my opinions tactlessly; there will be still the same wall between the holy of holies of my soul and other people, even my wife; I shall still go on scolding her for my own terror, and being remorseful for it; I shall still be as unable to understand with my reason why I pray, and I shall still go on praying; but my life now, my whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every minute of it is no more meaningless, as it was before, but it has the positive meaning of goodness, which I have the power to put into it.”

#Anna karenina #Leo tolstoy #classic fiction #fiction #quotes #literature

[kendrixtermina]

The Abyss NPC are such a trove of gold for additional worldbuilding tbh 

Everything about the Pagan Lady who I assume is Dagdan breaks my heart

That poor NPC whose family was somehow massacred by nobles “People with crests do whatever they like no one stops them least of all the church”

Mr. Backup died during the timeskip :( But Abysskeeper ends up marrying his older sister in VW and SS

Rodrigue paid for reestablishing the monastery town, even giving money to the ppl in abyss & generally seems to. I guess you see where Dimitri gets that charitable mindset from. Yuri also notes that he’s remarkably uncorruptible. 

Abysskeeper is originally from Derdriu. It#s fun how a lot of his CF and AM dialogue is exactly the same but in different context XD - apart from of course the rodrigue line, and the time Hubert sends a soldier to do some mission there

When you go save Fhirdiad Constance is pretty glad to save the ppl from the school of sorcery and is glad to find them mostly unharmed

Yuri goes into some detail of events right preceding Byleth’s return in AM where the villages near the fronts weren’t sure wether to think of the guy massacring random imperial soldiers as a serial killer or a folk hero

Balthus apparently had a friendly brawl with Dimitri at some point (I guess continuing the tedency of the recruitees in aM to mention having personally interacted with him, at the very least Leonie and Caspar also get lines like that)

Apparently Yuri’s mom got sick sometime during the timeskip (at least in the AM timeline) so he couldn’t evacuate her from Faerghus. 

Constance like Ferdinand, Lorenz & Lysithea is one of those ppl who remember Edelgard in a semi-positive light after her defeat. Kudos to you!

Balthus suspects where Claude ran off to. Well, he was kinda sent there to snoop on him to begin with XD

He never had any hope for the Parlay

Apparently Yuri does have a habit of praying, he’s not like a strooong believer and can’t recite the scriptures much but it’s a habit he picked up from his mom, I guess he would be one of those ‘culturally religious’ people

I just love how Yuri had additional observations on nearly everything like... nothing gets past him. 

Meanwhile in the CF timeline, Balthus apparently thinks Edelgard is hot (which earns him a death glare from Byleth) and thinks the whole Black Eagle strike force should go have a beer to celebrate Byleth’s return since they’re all old enough now and Byleth’s no longer supposed to babysit them

I love how Hubert just flat out takes over Abyss and integrates poor overworked Yuri into his spy networkXD . Hence why Hapi feels he deserves a definite article.  Well, Hubert appreciates how good he is. The mission was to try & convince the Alliance lords to fold so like El & co were actively attempting diplomacy until the end

On CF you see a very omnious NPC who suddenly dissapears if talked to (probably Agarthan) who complains about “that prince being no good” - Did they offer Dimitri their support when they noticed they were definitely losing control of Edelgard? If so he seems to have rebuffed em. It’s a very cryptic line and I can’t rly make heads or tails of it, but, if he wouldn’t sell Rhea out to Edelgard he probably wouldn’t do it for someone even worse no matter what they promised him. 

Apparently in the VW timeline Hapi is a big fan of Judith

Balthus is proud that little Hilda has become an A list schemer

Hearing Claude’s plan makes constance a bit self-conscious about her own being more past-focussed, she’s been out-bolded

Hapi doesn’t know much about Almyra but reflects on how there are many marginalized minority groups in Fodlan including ppl from Isolated communities like her own

Yuri finds the plan a bit lofty & idealistic for his tastes, and also reckless,  but he realizes that he’s got no leg to stand on when it comes to being more noble than he lets on, and that maybe a lil bit of recklessness are what these times need

Oh, once the secret’s out Hapi concludes that there probably would have been war one way or another with the slitherers having everything infiltrated, edelgard or no edelgard

Balthus mentions that Holst wasn’t at Shambhalla because he was “working out things with the Almyrans” and suggest that they warn him about the slitherers lest they sabotage the diplomacy

Apparently Hapi meditates! This comes up cause she trying not to freak out about Nemesis

“People sait it was the church who kept order but actually Yuri’s the one keeping us from complete chaos”

Apparently it was Hapi who kept the surface bandit population from flattening Abyss

Apparently in VW it’s Judith who gave supplies to Abyss (In Rodrigue’s place)

Seems like despite Hapi’s worries they kinda fare best on CF though (”Things have been pretty ok” vs “We lost some ppl”)

Abyss Resident: “I used to be an important person in the church but Im exiled for embezzling. It wasn’t out of greed tho my hometown was pillaged and the church wasn’t putting in enough to rebuild” Tell me again that Rhea cares about the little guy

One of the random rogues from Abyss is from the kingdom, claims to be a distant descendant of Fraldarius the Elite and finds “poetic justice” in taking down the empire under Claude. 

Another reaaaaly juicy tidbit is that rogue with another message from Hubert, telling Byleth to bring Rhea with them when they go to Shambhalla. Ensuing that Rhea and Thales would destroy each other.  And reaaaly adds to my conviction that Edelgard and Hubert basically did everyone a huge solid and no one noticed. Well, actually in Verdant wind they Do notice eventually; Its the left hand fighting the right cause everyone has triust issues galore

I didn’t think my love of Hubert could increase further

I always wondered, hm, were they expecting Rhea to self-destruct? Did Claude deliberately plan for it? But I never had enough evidence. especially for team Empire. But I mean Edelgard started this whole war cause Rhea is a danger so, while I get keeping her alive cause the slitherers want her for experiments, why not slit her throat as soon as the imperial palace is surrounded? Why have Hubert return her alive, to win the other faction’s trust? Not their style.

Though the random rogue also says that “Rhea was kept alive as insurance” against the slitherers. 

So it WAS part of the plan. I always did have that feeling, but, I never knew how to articulate it logically and not just intuitively. 

Of course if Byleth went and told Claude about this, Claude’s decision is also clear because he’s not dumb enough to think the empire would care for Rhea’s wellbeing out of the goodness of their heart

Though ultimately she insists on coming along for her own reasons anyways wether Claude is there or not, for plain ol’ revenge. 

Also while reading through the scrpits I realize that I never clicked the “Do you hope [Rhea] is dead?” option when Claude explains his plan. That actually nets you support points and he’s like... “Daangerous question friend”. Really Claude is not “the chill/nice one” he’s so much more interesting than that and I love him

Also I love how the NPCs get different outfits depending on the route! I wish there had been more route-specific aesthetic touches

#fe3h #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses #cindered shadows #ashen wolves

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

We need to talk about Project AHO

Project AHO is a DLC sized quest mod for Skyrim. It has 6500+ endorsement, and almost 118K unique downloads, and promises to add a hidden Telvanni settlement, 40+ new locations, 20+ fully voiced NPCs, new perks, new weapons, a new house, all dwemer or telvanni themed, and a non linear main quest with more than 12 side quests added in.

It's also, to use a particularly abused word as of late, fucking problematic.

The Mod Page doesn't mention many details about the mod, but it sure loves to point out how complex and varied the NPCs AI is, almost like real people with real moralities and real routines.

Anyway, Due to probably a bug (Mod is not supposed to not start till level 15) and the fact the abandoned prison is close to the place where you can trigger the mod, I barelly started a new Skyrim game and gotten Kaidan as we got out of prison together, before I was REMINDED FORCIBLY just why I couldn't stand this mod in the first place back in 2018.

So, small nitpick first: the game (should) suggest you at level 15 to free your followers before going to Mixwater Mill since they may cause bugs if they are mixed in the mod. This is bad for roleplaying reason since why would you logically decide to go there alone (want to buy some wood for your new house and you want to surprise them, so they wait you home?), but I would get beyond it if the rest of the Mod hadn't been... about that.

That being said, here's the meat of the issue:

If you reach the Mill after level 15, possibly with no follower, a Orc will approach you. Exiting his dialogue will only trigger the end of the scene early, he's essential, and whatever you do, whatever happens, whatever you say to him about his quest, what happens next is unavoidable.

He starts to hype you up with Trinimac and Daggerfall lore, which got me pretty excited at first when I played the mod for the first time, since, again, they only mentioned this being about a Hidden Telvanni settlement built over a Dwemer Ruin in the rift, so I thought the mod was going to be about the Boethia - Triminac Vore and Scat party that gave us the Dunmer and the Orcs, at least tangentially, so I go for the excited, eager to help dialogue route with him as he talks about epic quests and shit, except after we reach the last line, he goes something like "actually, this was all a diversion for having my mates sneak behind you and knock you out."

You are knocked out. No one can help you, you can do nothing to stop it, you can't even fight or talk or teleport your way out of it. It's scripted and it's unavoidable.

Next thing you know, you wake up in a cramped cell in prisoners rags, a mind control amulet at your neck, and 4 other prisoners.

Which is when the slave auction starts.

Project AHO is a mod about slavery. Is a mod about the Last Dragonborn, away from their loved ones, is tricked, ambushed and captured by a secret settlement of Telvanni wizards, before getting sold at a fucking slave auction.

And then, after all is said and done, after you’ve literally getting enslaved by Neloth 2.0, forced to fulfill tasks for him as the game, very pointedly, tries to make you empathize with this FUCKING SLAVERS via side quests (Oh, the daughter of the local hunter wants to travel the world and have adventures, and you can have a nice and friendly pint of beer with the fucking SLAVE CATCHER that captured you, and you meet another slave who didn’t get his tongue cut out, unlike most of the other ones in the bloody place, how nice, how fucking human of them), the game has the fucking AUDACITY to have the fucking leader of the settlement free you (not out of anything, but because your master is doing shady shit on the side and has kicked you out of his mansion after the last task), and then go, after you understandably ask why the FUCK shouldn’t you burn the place to the ground: “Oh, but slavery is such an important and integral part of our culture and economy, we dunmer will never change and will always have slaves so why should you bother, you are free now!”

This mod. In a escapist fucking game such as Skyrim. Is bad. Is REALLY bad.

Even putting aside the obvious lore reasons (Morrowind abolished slavery 200+ years ago under House Hlaalu, and even if they lynched them for it they are STILL not having slavery today), or the whole “Ah, the empire and the thalmor and the stormcloak know about this and they support us behind the scenes, in fact some of them partecipated at the auction you were on, there is a prosperous slave trade all over Tamriel!” bullshit, the whole thing is:

1) IN POOR FUCKING TASTE.

2) SERIOUSLY, WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO PLAY THIS? SLAVE SIMULATOR FOR HALF THE QUEST MOD, GO DO MINDLESS FETCH QUESTS FOR YOU MASTER, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING BY YOURSELF, YOU HAVE TO CLEAN THE CELL OF ANOTHER SLAVE THAT COULDN’T SURVIVE HIS EXPERIMENTS, THIS IS FUCKING BAD.

3) THE FUCKING... MIND CONTROL AMULET ROBBING YOU OF ANY AGENCY? YOU CANNOT KILL NOR ATTACK NOR DO ANYTHING TILL YOU REMOVE IT AND YOU CAN’T REMOVE IT TILL HALF THE GAME SO WHAT WAS PRESENTED AS A “NON LINEAR MAIN QUEST” IS ACTUALLY A RAILROADED BULLSHIT TOWARD A MAJOR CHOICE BETWEEN RAZING THE SETTLEMENT TO THE GROUND WITH A SPACESHIP OR LETTING THE SETTLEMENT BE (YOU KNOW, CLASSIC BETHESDA MORAL DILEMMA, EXCEPT THE SETTLEMENT IS FILLED WITH SLAVERS AND SLAVES)

Which is sad because the aesthetic and some of the shit added to this are pretty cool overall, there is a “Dwemer Chess Board” thing that is missing some pieces that you can collect through the settlement and after you get them all and place them on the board you get a perk on team fighting, which would be a nice thing to have in a mod if it wasn’t for, again, the FUCKING SLAVERY!

Like, fuck, just imagine the slave auction:

Scripted scene, you can’t do anything, you are marched with the other slaves to a stage, the orc guy is the auction master, he sells:

1) The first slave, a vampire, to your future master.

2) Then an argonian young woman (”Plucked fresh from the windhelm docks” they say, and they sell her to some noble dude as his “new handmaiden,” which is SO FUCKING CREEPY ON SO MANY LEVELS LIKE... Even if you put aside the prospect of knowing her from the docks both in and out of universe (There is a potential Argonian spouse at the windhelm docks after all), this is bad? SO SO FUCKING BAD? BY ALL POSSIBLE ANGLES?)

3) Then they can’t sell a 50 year old argonian dude so they go “remove lot number 3 from the auction blog) and they gut him right in front of me??? By then going “he’ll make a good purse” because HOLY FUCK?????

4) Then you get sold in a auction battle between Neloth 2.0 but shittier and the local blacksmith, both locals (this, again, after mentioning that if you get sold to a local they’ll cut your tongue out), and you then get sold to Neloth 2.0 but shittier...

You can’t fucking stop any of this. You can’t do a “destroy the dark brotherhood” questline, you can’t prevent the kidnapping, even if you go out the city, some dumb magic will stop you from revealing its location to the competent authorities, who, again, are actually in cahoots with the slavers, so it’s not like they’d help!

And the mod clearly tries to make you, again, empathize and understand the fucking SLAVERS and their fucking position as SLAVERS like some BULLSHIT because fucking CENTRISM or some shit and REALLY?

So... to end this shit: Project AHO? Is some sort of weird, borderline feticistic mod about dunmers still being slavers and fucking rolling with it. It breaks canon and lore (after presenting itself as a mod that explores and faithfully depicts the lore), has a very railroady main quest after, again, mentioning its non linear path, and, agAIN, TRIES REALLY HARD TO MAKE YOU EMPATHIZE WITH THOSE BASTARDS.

So, I give it a 2 BB8s out of 10 for the dumb star wars reference companion, if you want to play it be fucking warned by its content.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #project aho #critical #tes #telvanni #tw: slavery

[dillydedalus]

january reading

why does january always feel like it’s 3 months long. anyway here’s what i read in january, feat. poison experts with ocd, ants in your brain, old bolsheviks getting purged, and mountweazels. 

city of lies, sam hawke (poison wars #1) this is a perfectly nice fantasy novel about jovan, who serves as essentially a secret guard against poisoning for his city state’s heir and is forced to step up when his uncle (also a secret poison guard) and the ruler are both killed by an unknown poison AND also the city is suddenly under a very creepy siege (are these events related? who knows!) this is all very fine & entertaining & there are some fun ideas, but also... the main character has ocd and SAME HAT SAME HAT. also like the idea of having a very important, secret and potentially fatal job that requires you to painstakingly test everything the ruler/heir is consuming WHILE HAVING OCD is like... such a deliciously sadistic concept. amazing. 3/5

my heart hemmed in, marie ndiaye (translated from french by jordan stump) a strange horror-ish tale in which two married teachers, bastions of upper-middle-class respectability and taste, suddenly find themselves utterly despised by everyone around them, escalating until the husband is seriously injured. through several very unexpected twists, it becomes clear that the couple’s own contempt for anyone not fitting into their world and especially nadia’s hostility and shame about her (implied to be northern african) ancestry is the reason for their pariah status. disturbing, surprising, FUCKED UP IF TRUE (looking back, i no longer really know what i mean by that). 4/5

xenogenesis trilogy (dawn/adulthood rites/imago), octavia e. butler octavia butler is incapable of writing anything uninteresting and while i don’t always completely vibe with her stuff, it’s always fascinating & thought-provoking. this series combines some of her favourite topics (genetic manipulation, alien/human reproduction, what is humanity) into a tale of an alien species, the oankali, saving some human survivors from the apocalypse and beginning a gene-trading project with them, integrating them into their reproductive system and creating mixed/’construct’ generations with traits from both species. and like, to me, this was uncomfortably into the biology = destiny thing & didn’t really question the oankali assertion that humans were genetically doomed to hierarchical behaviour & aggression (& also weirdly straight for a book about an alien species with 3 genders that engages in 5-partner-reproduction with humans), so that angle fell flat for me for the most part, altho i suppose i do agree that embracing change, even change that comes at a cost, is better than clinging to an unsustainable (& potentially destructive) purity. where i think the series is most interesting is in its exploration of consent and in how far consent is possible in extremely one-sided power dynamics (curiously, while the oankali condemn and seem to lack the human drive for hierarchy, they find it very easy to abuse their position of power & violate boundaries & never question the morality of this. in this, the first book, focusing on a human survivor first encountering the oankali and learning of their project, is the most interesting, as lilith as a human most explicitly struggles with her position - would her consent be meaningful? can she even consent when there is a kind of biochemical dependence between humans and their alien mates? the other two books, told from the perspectives of lilith’s constructed/mixed children, continue discussing themes of consent, autonomy and power dynamics, but i found them less interesting the further they moved from human perspectives. on the whole: 2.5/5

love & other thought experiments, sophie ward man, we love a pierre menard reference. anyway. this is a novel in stories, each based (loosely) on a thought experiment, about (loosely) a lesbian couple and their son arthur, illness and grief, parenthood, love, consciousness and perception, alternative universes, and having an ant in your brain. it is thoroughly delightful & clever, but goes for warmth and humanity (or ant-ity) over intellectual games (surprising given that it is all about thought experiments - but while they are a nice structuring device i don’t think they add all that much). i haven’t entirely worked out my feelings about the ending and it’s hard to discuss anyway given the twists and turns this takes, but it's a whole lot of fun. 4/5

a general theory of oblivion, josé eduardo agualusa (tr. from portuguese by daniel hahn) interesting little novel(la) set in angola during and after the struggle for independence, in which a portuguese woman, ludo, with extreme agoraphobia walls herself into her apartment to avoid the violence and chaos (but also just... bc she has agoraphobia) with a involving a bunch of much more active characters and how they are connected to her to various degrees. i didn’t like the sideplot quite as much as ludo’s isolation in her walled-in flat with her dog, catching pigeons on the balcony and writing on the walls. 3/5

cassandra at the wedding, dorothy baker phd student cassandra returns home attend (sabotage) her twin sister judith’s wedding to a young doctor whose name she refuses to remember, believing that her sister secretly wants out. cass is a mess, and as a shift to judith’s perspective reveals, definitely wrong about what judith wants and maybe a little delusional, but also a ridiculously compelling narrator, the brilliant but troubled contrast to judith’s safer conventionality. on the whole, cassandra’s narrative voice is the strongest feature of a book i otherwise found a bit slow & a bit heavy on the quirky family. fav line is when cass, post-character-development, plans to “take a quick look at [her] dumb thesis and see if it might lead to something less smooth and more revolting, or at least satisfying more than the requirements of the University”. 3/5

the office of historical corrections, danielle evans a very solid collection of realist short stories (+ the titular novella), mainly dealing with racism, (black) womanhood, relationships between women, and anticolonial/antiracist historiography. while i thought all the stories were well-done and none stood out as weak or an unnecessary inclusion, there also weren’t any that really stood out to me. 3/5

sonnenfinsternis, arthur koestler (english title: darkness at noon) (audio) you know what’s cool about this book? when i added it to my goodreads tbr in 2012, i would have had to read it in translation as the german original was lost during koestler’s escape from the nazis, but since then, the original has been rediscovered and republished. yet another proof that leaving books on your tbr for ages is a good thing actually. anyway. this is a story about the stalinist purges, told thru old bolshevik rubashov, who, after serving the Party loyally for years & doing his fair share of selling people out for the Party, is arrested for ~oppositional activities. in jail and during his interrogations, rubashov reflects on the course the Party has taken and his own part (and guilt) in that, and the way totalitarianism has eaten up and poisoned even the most commendable ideals the Party once held (and still holds?), the course of history and at what point the end no longer justifies the means. it’s brilliant, rubashov is brilliant and despicable, i’m very happy it was rediscovered. 5/5

heads of the colored people, nafissa thompson-spires another really solid short story collection, also focused on the experiences of black people in america (particularly the black upper-middle class), black womanhood and black relationships, altho with a somewhat more satirical tone than danielle evans’s collection. standouts for me were the story in letters between the mothers of the only black girls at a private school, a story about a family of fruitarians, and a story about a girl who fetishises her disabled boyfriend(s). 3.5/5

pedro páramo, juan rulfo (gernan transl. by dagmar ploetz) mexican classic about a rich and abusive landowner (the titular pedro paramo) and the ghost town he leaves behind - quite literally, as, when his son tries to find his father, the town is full of people, quite ready to talk shit about pedro, but they are all dead. it’s an interesting setting with occasionally vivid writing, but the skips in time and character were kind of confusing and i lost my place a lot. i’d be interested in reading rulfo’s other major work, el llano en llamas. 2.5/5

verse für zeitgenossen, mascha kaléko short collection of the poems kaléko, a jewish german poet, wrote while in exile in the united states in the 30-40s, as well as some poems written after the end of ww2. kaléko’s voice is witty, but at turns also melancholy or satirical. as expected i preferred the pieces that directly addressed the experience of exile (”sozusagen ein mailied” is one of my favourite exillyrik pieces). 3/5

the harpy, megan hunter yeah this was boooooooring. the cover is really cool & the premise sounded intriguing (women gets cheated on, makes deal with husband that she is allowed to hurt him three times in revenge, women is also obsessed with harpies: female revenge & female monsters is my jam) but it’s literally so dull & trying so hard to be deep. 1.5/5

the liar’s dictionary, eley williams this is such a delightful book, from the design (those marbled endpapers? yes) to the preface (all about what a dictionary is/could be), to the chapter headings (A-Z words, mostly relating to lies, dishonesty, etc in some way or another, containing at least one fictitious entry), to the dual plots (intern at new edition of a dictionary in contemporary england checking the incomplete old dictionary for mountweazels vs 1899 london with the guy putting the mountweazels in), to williams’s clear joy about words and playing with them. there were so many lines that made me think about how to translate them, which is always a fun exercise. 3.5/5

catherine the great & the small, olja knežević (tr. from montenegrin by ellen elias-bursać, paula gordon) coming-of-age-ish novel about katarina from montenegro, who grows up in  titograd/podgorica and belgrad in the 70s/80s, eventually moving to london as an adult. to be honest while there are some interesting aspects in how this portrays yugoslavia and conflicts between the different parts of yugoslavia, i mostly found this a pretty sloggy slog of misery without much to emotionally connect to, which is sad bc i was p excited for it :(. 2/5

the decameron project: 29 new stories from the pandemic, anthology a collection of short stories written during covid lockdown (and mostly about covid/lockdown in some way). they got a bunch of cool authors, including margaret atwood, edwidge danticat, rachel kushner ... it’s an interesting project and the stories are mostly pretty good, but there wasn’t one that really stood out to me as amazing. i also kinda wish more of the stories had diverged more from covid/lockdown thematically bc it got a lil repetitive tbh. 2/5

#the books i read #long post #sonnenfinsternis is so good the audiobook nearly made me cry in the supermarket