written in flesh

Thursday Night Dinner at the Byers

I keep mentioning ‘Thursday Night Dinner at the Byers’ in all of my Stranger Things fics (here, here, and here) and, like, I just realized this is my random ass season 3 headcanon and I should probably explain it: 

  • Hopper means it when he says he shouldn’t have lied to her. That there are a lot of things he should’ve done differently. But he also knows that he’d do anything to keep her safe, that if Owens suggests one year then he’s gonna go with one year. But he keeps his promise and things are different this time around. 
  • He suggests Thursday dinners at the Byers house as a way for El to see her friends. He can’t very well take her over to the Wheeler’s house and the cabin is too far away to bike to every day and there’s no way in hell he’s shuttling kids back and forth to his house all the time, so he sets up a weekly dinner at the Byers because it just makes the most sense. Nancy can bring Mike, he can bring El and no one will ever suspect anything. 
  • He doesn’t think too deeply about the fact that no one questions, that no one even seems all that surprised about the fact that he’s going to weekly dinners at Joyce’s house. Flo takes to telling him to say hi to Joyce for her, encouraging him to dress up nicer on Thursday nights and goddammit Flo, for the last time there’s nothing wrong with what I wear.
  • Except that at some point, he does make it a point to rush home early on Thursdays and change out of his work clothes into something that’s ironed and not khaki. 
  • Jonathan is the one that cooks most nights and he has to admit that the kid is a damn good cook. Hopper makes El and Mike and Will set the table so that Joyce doesn’t have to worry about rushing home from work and taking care of it. He always helps her with the dishes afterwards, while Mike and Nancy and Jonathan and Will take turns tutoring El. 
  • Nancy bargains for a movie night every other week after dinner rather than tutoring and he gives in because she gives him these huge puppy dog eyes and he can literally feel Joyce laughing at him as he begrudgingly says yes. They take turns picking movies, though he always gives his turn to Eleven. 

Keep reading


Emily Browning by Rebekah Campbell for The Last Magazine, May 2017

We’ve been having this discussion about strong, female characters and I think that a lot of people misinterpret that to mean girls who kick ass and independent women who don’t need a man, but really the strength is about characters being written in a complex and interesting way. That’s what I mean when I say I want to play strong characters, I mean characters that are written well and fleshed out well. I want to play horrible people and lovely people and weak people and stupid people. I think that’s what it’s about—we just want as much range available to us as men have had forever.


“Everything about this woman was both hard yet soft, delicate yet bold, wild yet calm. She was a storm that called to Cassian; it beckoned him into its grasp. A storm that he didn’t want to avoid anymore. He wanted to give in to the urges that pulled him to Nesta and he wanted her to do the same. So he let go of all pretense, closed his eyes, and leaned in to finally, finally, kiss the catastrophically beautiful woman below him.”

/enlarge images for HD/
Written Word AU

Humans have the first name of their soul mate somewhere on their body and it appears when they reach adulthood (21). Having platonic soulmates is possible (especially amongst twins or very close siblings) but is discriminated against to the same extent asexuality is. Many people have short relationships before 21 but stop altogether when they receive their name. Having a relationship that is not your soulmate is possible, though not looked kindly upon.

Julian has the name Elim appear on the inner wrist of his right hand when he celebrates his birthday while attending Starfleet. He wonders what this Elim would think of Jules, and if it might have been different. Like many young people (most who try to prove soulmates wrong by hiding their name and not revealing it until a relationship is serious), Julian wears a band to cover the name while he’s still training. After he becomes an officer and gets his first posting, the sleeves of his uniform covers the name, he stops. Julian isn’t especially looking for his Elim, he might even be running away a bit because he doesn’t want to deal with the implications of even having a soulmate after what was done to him. Were he any less of a professional or a dedicated doctor, the moment Garak mentioned knowing an “Elim” Julian about passed out. It was why he hesitantly mentioned the name to Tain, he couldn’t resist being so close yet so far. When he discovered the truth, it was as if he knew it could have been no other. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he sat on the knowledge for a long time, merely focusing on saving Garak.

Cardassians have the words said when they feel deep love for the first time somewhere on them since birth, usually the torso or upper arms. It’s a reason all their outfits and military garb cover as much skin as possible, to hid the possible weakness. Garak has had the words “I forgive you for whatever it is you did” over his heart. Since he was a boy able to read what the words said he has wondered at their meaning. When he became an agent, he believed that the words would be spoken by his father, the only person he wanted love from, though he couldn’t imagine what he’d be forgiving. He purposely lived an unrepentant life-style so as to avoid the phrase altogether as a way to protect himself. After all, if the person really knew him, why-ever would they forgive the things he’d done? Would he even deserve it? As he lay in the infirmary after doing his best to try to drive Julian away and leave him to die (and yet also lay the clues the doctor needed to save him if he was brave and foolish), he let himself dream a little. He’d grown terribly fond of the doctor, and the withdrawal was doing hell to his self-control. So he asked for forgiveness. To hear even one of the words for the first time, and to put his stupid dream out of his misery. Then Julian spoke word for word what was over his heart in simple kardasi script. Garak couldn’t breathe. Of course he’d be shown this when he was for sure going to die a horribly painful death. He said nothing, though just before falling into the darkness of slumber he noticed words in standard on Julian’s right wrist…had it always been there?

Wanna read Della’s debut story, the first one that was not written by Don Rosa, that fleshed the character?

Here, my friend: http://imgur.com/a/3iGqH

It was quite a quest to do this one!

This is a dutch comic, only translated to brazilian portuguese! And it was not easy to find, I had to buy this online and scan it. @rei-pinto and a friend helped in the translation… I edited it and @sarroora corrected typos and grammar errors.

Since it’s a 30 pages long comic, it was a lot of work; but everybody was so curious about it, even my dad got curious and asked to read it… 

But, is it good? Well, hm… sadly the comic is just so-so. This got some brazilian readers mad because this is a special commemorative edition to Donald’s birthday; the full comic has 50 pages, and this story has 30. (I even saw a guy saying in a forum “Don’t buy that; it’s false advertsing”)

To be fair the parts that talk about Della are AWESOME. She’s a fun and interesting character, and probably this comic had influence in Ducktales’ crew chosing Della as an important part of the plot!

I tried to find info about it but apparently it was hard for the dutch to get authorization to use Della; it took years. Now they’re doing a series (Donald Eerste) and this comic was kinda of a warm up for this series… 

So, maybe they only got the authorization to do a few pages with her; 5 to be exact. That would explain the filler; I mean, I don’t think the central idea of the comic is that bad but everybody who bought it wanted to see Della and not a random story that breaks the 4th wall!

Well, now you can finally read it and come with your own conclusions!

(…But I DO feel personally offended there’s no Fethry here nor in Donald Eerste series…)



We’ve been having this discussion about strong, female characters and I think that a lot of people misinterpret that to mean girls who kick ass and independent women who don’t need a man, but really the strength is about characters being written in a complex and interesting way. That’s what I mean when I say I want to play strong characters, I mean characters that are written well and fleshed out well. I want to play horrible people and lovely people and weak people and stupid people. I think that’s what it’s about—we just want as much range available to us as men have had forever.

Villain x Hero (the layered villain)

Originally posted by shut-up-sunshine

Love is such a beautiful thing. It really is a power that people control (and sometimes can’t control). Everyone loves and wants to be loved. Everyone wants to be understood and accepted. When we understand human nature, I believe that’s when we finally are able to see the layers in people. The best villains are deep, well-written, fleshed-out, baddies and most everyone agrees-

Originally posted by lokitty

Think about it: A villain, seemingly unlovable and cold, having layers to their personality that could eventually lead them to the path of redemption. 

Interesting, right? and from that the villain x hero ship is born.


Originally posted by martamdesign


Originally posted by bellaamyblakee


Originally posted by reylo-ruffles


Originally posted by partofyourtaleasoldastime

It’s Okay, I Wouldn’t Remember Me Either

Shiro remembers that he and Keith were together pre-Kerberos. Confessions ensue. On AO3: [x]

“End training sequence.”

Shiro’s command echoes off the walls of the training deck. The training bot, caught in a sweeping gesture as it pivots to strike Keith across the middle, stutters on a half-step and powers off with a “clink” of joints. Keith startles, poised to meet the bot’s blow, and watches as the bot’s blue eye fades to an offline grey.

Keith turns to the door of the training deck, ready to ask Shiro why he had terminated the program—only for his heart to drop down to his boots. Shiro stands hunched in the doorway, dressed in his ruffled civilian clothes, his cheeks red like he’s run all the way from his quarters.

“Shiro?” Keith ventures. His Bayard fizzes back into its sheathed form.  

Shiro doesn’t explain right away. He takes a moment to find his breath, turning the words over in his mouth before he says them.

“I—just remembered. Our time at the Garrison.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. The floor seems to tilt under his feet.

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes with a dejected expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

Keith forces himself to take a deep breath. His chest feels too tight, like something has reached out and wrapped a fist around his ribcage. “It was…never the right time, you know?”

It’s a flimsy excuse; a gentle fiction. Shiro tears his eyes from Keith’s, betrayed. He looks to the far wall as though the answers are written there. His flesh hand twitches once by his side. Keith feels his own fingers start to curl towards his hip. He thinks back to the Garrison, and he can almost feel Shiro’s warm palm against his. Shiro’s hands had been soft back then, Keith’s worn from years of desert life. Shiro hasn’t let Keith touch his bare hand since their reunion on Earth, and Keith wonders how the new scars would feel against his skin.

Keep reading


is there anything so fine on this fine earth as an older butch?

you’re irresistible. the way you smile, the way you cock your hips as you stand and the way you love, tender and rough, your fingertips and tongue skilled from years of practice. it is always you that catches my eye the most, the ones who’ve been around the block more times than the rest of us can count. who have fought and overcome and keep on fighting, who persist against the odds, and who bear the triumph and the tragedy of your lives so exquisitely in every careworn detail.

I love how warm and wise your eyes are. there’s a depth there that only a lifetime can bring and I could just about plunge right in when I get to staring into them. I love how they sparkle when you laugh, and how your eyes crinkle at the corners, furrowed deep. all the times that you have spent laughing and crying over the years are etched there and they only emphasise the more the fine construction of your features, the handsomeness of your bare, clean face. I wait for those moments, when you smile and your whole face comes alive with feeling and time, tenderly refined.

and your smile - nothing can bring me to my knees like a mature butch’s smile. bright and broad and always just a little cheeky, giving a glimpse into the young rogue you were and all the escapades that wicked smile led you into. I’m tantalised by the memories that hover behind that smile, as much as I am by your ruggedness and lined face.  I want to listen to you for hours, then become another memory to add extra mischief to your grin.

I love the set of your shoulders, made strong from years of work - you’ve always worked hard labour and long hours; driving trucks, packing and stacking, security detail. on your feet, out in the sun, under a car, on a construction site. your bodies tell the story of your journeys, each tale unique even in commonality. your skin is worn and weathered, speckled with sun-spots and colourful, faded tattoos twining your arms and back. long marks stripe your stomach and thighs, criss-cross over scars. grey peppers your hair, adding dimension and dignity. I love that grey, how it looks mingled with the rest, how it all feels slipping through my fingertips. your throat is creased, the skin creping delicately along the jawline in a way that always sets my heart racing. I love an older butch’s jaw as much as the lines around her eyes, for all the mature definition it brings to her butchness. this is beauty; life and all its unfoldings, written in the flesh.

I love the rough beneath my palm as I stroke your back, soothing away your aches. I love how solid and sure you are to be near, how you always stand straight even when you’re worn down to the bone, how you let me lean into you and be reassured.

you’re always at ease, no need to posture or twitch. you’ve paid your dues, earned your swagger and you know you’ve got nothing to prove. it’s that confidence, that calm self-assuredness, that is so enticing to me, that makes me so weak at the knees and so hot between my thighs. what need is there for talk when you’re all action? you leave the pissing competitions to the young ones and get on with what matters. you’ve faced down the beasts that raged within and now you’re not afraid to be sensitive, and ardent, and even vulnerable with a fem. you know that true strength thrives always in honesty. you’ve learned that lesson too.

but for all you seem so relaxed, so cool, I know too that in an instant you can be on your feet, blazing and ready to fight off any trouble. that’s what your life’s long journey has taught you as well: what it means to stand together, to protect each other. that nothing matters unless we got each other’s backs.

there really is nothing so fine as that.

The Soulmate Theory (Soulmate AU)

Request: Can you please do #2 and #3 with Jun? Thank you much :)

2) “I’m always tired…but never of you.”
3) “I’d be a terrible person if I let you do something stupid alone.”

Member: Seventeen’s Jun x Y/N

Type: Fluff

You tapped your pen against the metal spiral holding together your notebook and attempted not to scowl. You were unsure why you had signed up for this class, especially now that you were having to pay for an education. College wasn’t something you imagined as being such a series of hits or misses, but man, were you picking the wrong elective courses. 

You looked up to your instructor, a bulbous man of around fifty. He had probably been balding since before you were born and judging by his lack of wedding ring, you assumed he had been divorced about as long. 

Which was juuuust perfect. 

When a man is teaching a class about soul mate lore, it was definitely best if he had divorced who you had assumed to be his soulmate. His first words tattoo stood out brightly on his exposed forearm, bits of it faded or scabbed from his apparent attempts in trying to remove it. 

The irony was just too good. 

“Today’s lesson,” his raspy voice croaked. “Will be focused on “Soulmate Identifying Marks.” Now I know you all received a brief overview of this in high school, but today we’ll be diving in depth to really explore soul marks and their use in our culture.” 

You rolled your eyes and subconsciously glanced down at your knee. Through a small rip in your jeans, you could just barely see a snippet of the scrawled text that had appeared on your skin years ago. Looking up again, you noticed your classmates around you were doing the same. 

You were all just trying to figure it out. 

Admittedly, for awhile, you didn’t believe in soulmates. As your professor had mentioned, you had all gone through classes in middle and high school to explain the unique condition your species had been subjected to. The multifaceted world of soulmates was not an easily digestible one. Different cultures experienced different things, and if you didn’t have the same type of soul mark as the other people in your household, it only meant you were destined to travel, that your soulmate was in a completely different country than you were. 

From the country you had come from, in general, you would be born with a birthmark that would be similar to your future soulmate’s birthmark. This difference in skin pigmentation could appear at any point of your young adult life, starting as soon as you hit puberty. You had waited and waited, but no such birthmark occurred. 

Your mother had been entirely too stressed about your future love life, or lack there of. She took you to religious officials, doctors, and even once, a tattoo artist. No one had an answer for her, but you were at peace with that. Surely there were others out there like you who didn’t have a mark, and you would be okay. Someone would find you…someday. 

Until you woke up one morning and noticed clouded gray marks dotting your kneecap. Scrubbing for nearly an hour in the bathroom only made it worse, the words becoming more clear than any ink smudge could. 

And your mother had become happy again. 

You didn’t not have a soulmark, just a different one, belonging to a different culture. 

After a quick google search, you had discovered that your type of soul mark mostly appeared in East Asia. Once your mother found out, she had every college pamphlet from Hong Kong to Tokyo picked out for you. Before you were even capable of realizing the future you were launching yourself towards, you had your suitcase packed to begin your tour of countries you had never dreamed of visiting. 

And that’s how you ended up here. 

In Seoul, trying to figure out exactly why your bodies had become this way. 

But this guy wouldn’t be giving you the answers. 

“Soul marks are an identifying characteristic to help two individuals find each other, such as complimentary birthmarks, or as in our country, the first words you hear spoken by your soulmate. The mark may appear any time after puberty,” your professor continued, droning in monotone as he read verbatim from your textbook. “Of course in the following units, we’ll go over sense alterations and other signs seen in varying countries. When our body sciences began to include soul mate identifying capabilities, divorce rates…have dropped and life expectancies are still increasing.” 

“If you were born in South Korea,” he continued blandly. You had a difficult time looking at him, his facial expressions becoming more and more disinterested in the actual words he was saying. “Or have a soul mate from an East Asian country, we have all become familiar with the words marking our skin. Very rarely does someone become a young adult without seeing words written on their flesh. Of course there are varying factors. Our culture seems to forget those who are deaf or have different disabilities. Most often, we’re left to our own worst thoughts that we don’t have soul mates, but realistically, that will only occur for under three percent of the population.” 

“Is that around the world or just East Asia?” someone called out. 

The professor chuckled before shaking his head. “East Asia, do you really think I care that far to search numbers around the world? I hardly care outside of Korea.”

You looked up uneasily and scanned the classroom, locking eyes with a handsome boy you had recognized during roll call. His name had seemed foreign in structure, so he was just as displaced in this new country as you were. He gave you a sad smile and lifted his brows before turning his face back to the instructor. You continued to look around at your fellow classmates, realizing that none of you looked similar. Every skin tone on the spectrum shone out underneath the florescent lights and you were proud. You had all enrolled here for the same reason. 

All of you had been the outliers in your cultures. All of you had soulmates dwelling in the 4,600,000 square miles of East Asia. All of you were here in hopes of bringing yourself a little bit closer to your destiny. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline flood your veins as you stuck your arm into the air, lifting it to be able to speak. 

“Oh…uh, yes…Y/N, is it?” your teacher asked, lifting his brows in surprise. 

“What happened to your soulmate?” you asked, incapable of biting your tongue any longer. “You’ve talking to us about soul marks in Korea, but you haven’t told us anything about yourself. Shouldn’t we hear your story?” 

“Oh,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. He tilted his forearm deliberately so you could no longer see the marred words printed there. “Well, I don’t think that’s necessarily a story I owe you.” 

“Don’t you though?” you prodded. “How can you be a subject matter expert when you don’t want to talk about how the subject applies to your life? I mean, you are quite literally telling us all that our society runs off of the idea of soulmates, granted, you don’t really care about those of us not from your own country, but we don’t even really know if you have one.” 

“Of course I have one,” he croaked. “And I don’t appreciate this attack on my character.” 

“It’s not an attack on your character,” you groaned. “If it’s to be considered an attack at all, it’s on your intelligence.” 

You looked around to see your classmates stifle their giggles, trying to hide smiles as you voiced all of the words they had been thinking. 

“Get out of my class,” the professor hissed. Your eyes grew wide as he stared at you. “And anyone else who shares the same opinion, you can feel free to leave as well.” 

You took a deep breath as you shut your book with the all of the force you were capable of. Shoving it in your backpack, you glanced up at the professor and nodded. You slung your bag over your shoulder and breathed in sharply as you noticed movement in your peripherals. You looked over to see the same boy you had made eye contact with previously, now packing his things and standing. 

“Anyone else?” the professor asked as you began down the steps of the auditorium style classroom. A buzz of conversation radiated around you as you moved, incapable of making eye contact with anyone else. You felt exhilarated as you walked, the first real time you had ever confronted anyone, let alone a teacher. You breezed out of the classroom and could only breath properly again once you reached one of the benches outside. You swung your book bag around and plopped it on the ground before exhaling. 

You involuntarily flinched as a body appeared beside yours on the bench. The boy who had walked out of the classroom as you had turned and nodded at you. 

“You didn’t agree with him either?” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

He smiled, tilting his own as he looked at you. “I’d be a terrible person if I let you do something stupid alone.” 

You stopped for a moment, almost numb to his words as he spoke them. You turned slowly to properly face him, dozens of questions attempting to assemble themselves in your brain and burst from your lips. 

He nodded brightly, a large grin on his face. “Yep, it’s me. I’m the guy.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment, thinking back to the words decorating your skin. You had stared at them for years, wondering about the male or female who would utter that one simple sentence. You always wondered the context, wondered exactly what the “stupid something” was going to be. …which made another thought spring to your lips. 

“Do you really think what I did was stupid?” 

“To some, maybe,” he chuckled. “But you stood up for yourself and called him out on some pretty problematic shit, so that’s neat.” 

You smiled as you shook your head, attempting to recall the first words you had spoken in his presence. “Wait…what do you have-”

He pulled up his sleeve, his smile never fading as he read the words from his forearm. “What happened to your soulmate?” 

“Oh man,” you chuckled. “Sorry…that had to be confusing.” 

“Admittedly,” he nodded. “I was kind of bummed when it wasn’t something more romantic. Maybe ‘I’ve finally found my home.” Or ‘I’m always tired, but never of you.’” 

You lifted a brow, trying to keep from giggling. “I never thought my soulmate would be so…”

“Handsome? Romantic? Adorable?” he grinned. 

“Cringy,” you snorted. “But for the record, the first thing you said to me wasn’t exactly Shakespearean.” 

He rolled his eyes, but still looked amused. “This makes for a better story I think.” 

“It would’ve made for a better story if we lead the charge and had the entire classroom walk out behind us,” you said with a wink. 

“Don’t rule that out just yet,” he whispered, gently tapping your knee. You looked up to see your fellow students filing out of the classroom you had both just left. Your grin couldn’t grow any wider as student after student passed in rapid fire discussion about what had just happened. 

“Hey,” you called out, noticing the girl you usually sat beside. “You all really left?” 

“No, he cancelled class early,” she muttered, hardly looking up from her phone. “Something about how he has to reassess life choices or something.” 

You heaved a sigh as you looked back to your legs and began to poke at the holes in the denim. You stretched the fabric to be able to see your skin in full. “I’d be a terrible person…”

As you were reading along silently to yourself, you felt the man beside you shift his position. Humming, he pulled at the hand you were using to shift your jeans, and wrapped it in his own instead. 

“I’m Junhui by the way,” he nodded. “You were probably wondering.” 

“I assumed I’d figure it out,” you smiled, nodding to him. 

“So maybe our story didn’t start with a classroom revolution,” he chirped. “But it did start, so that’s something.”

“Relentlessly optimistic,” you laughed. “I like it.” 

“You better,” he laughed as well. “Cause you’re kind of stuck with me now. The Soulmate theory says so.” 

“Is that how it works?” you teased. “Divorce rates are down, not nonexistent.” 

“Hey, hey,” he argued. “You can’t divorce me before we’ve even started dating.” 

“Who makes these rules, Junnie?” you smiled. 

“Me, I do,” he nodded. “And I say you’re stuck with me.” 

“Hmph,” you sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to live with that then.” 

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic,” he chuckled. He began to stand and tossed his bag over his arm. He reached down and tugged at your hand again. “Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Well, obviously we have to FaceTime my mom and let her know what happened. Then we have to FaceTime your mom and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you gasped. “Can’t we just…slow down? Get some coffee first maybe? Try to digest everything that just happened?” 

“Right. Coffee. Good idea,” he nodded. “Digesting. I can digest.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you shouldered your book bag. What an interesting glance into your forever. 

Originally posted by wouhui

anonymous asked:

Wait if u have a lot of fics you want to read do u think u could rec some? I'm lost for what voltron fics to read and I want to start somewhere (I'm good for every ship but shidge honestly) thanks in advance!

*claps hands together*


A large portion of it is gonna be Klance cause i haven’t really found any other ones that I thought were interesting. Even being a multishipper, you still can’t find good ones of other ships besides the most popular ;w;

I’m also gonna give you the ones I have read cause I don’t wanna give you a fic rec and have you go in blindly not knowing what to expect from one of the fics.

Chances are this is gonna get long so imma cut it right here

Keep reading

gerundsandcoffee  asked:

So I have seriously been considering buying PoE in a few weeks. Why should I give it a go? I don't think the price has dropped all that much, even, since it was initially released. However, I know you love it and I trust your judgment.

WELL NOW how lovely that you should ask :-D I would happily inspire others to play PoE, so here are my top reasons why it’s awesome:

  1. Story story story story. I’m always a fan of games with a good story, and this one may not have the fancy cutscenes and animation and such of a Bioware type of RPG, but it has a story that intrigued me from the start. The lore of the setting is rich (and so very inspiring for fanfic, heh…) but you pick up on most of it from your character’s interactions – and it’s a fascinating world with history and mythology and politics and intrigue and all that good stuff. There are the usual fantasy races – human, elf, dwarf – and then some really unique ones: orlans, sort of like halflings or gnomes, but furrier; aumaua, sort of like giant fish-people but not really fish? just sort of coastal? and then there are the godlike, who can come from any race but have some sort of “blessing” of the gods manifesting in odd physical features, like feathers or even fire for hair.
  2. Characters! An RPG with rich lore is still pretty boring if it doesn’t have characters who grow on you. Well, these will grow on you. Some of ‘em have Tragic Backstories (like wow, such powerful ones too) and others have very happy and normal backgrounds yet still their paths cross with yours for some quest that makes them pretty interesting too. There’s excellent voice acting (I mean, you get TWO whole companions – maybe three depending on how you look at [spoiler] – voiced by Matthew Mercer. Actually Matthew Mercer should probably be my #1 reason to play this game. Actually Matthew Mercer and @curriebelle liveblogging PoE [including many references to Matthew Mercer] WAS my #1 reason for trying it, so…) But seriously, between the well-written, deeply fleshed out companion characters, and the breadth of choices your player character can make to define your own personality and role…it’s really rich fodder for fanworks. 
  3. Classes – like with the same-plus-different races in the game, you have the RPG typical classes – fighter, rogue, wizard, ranger, monk, barbarian, priest, druid, paladin – and then you have some interesting ones unique to the game – cipher (psychic powers!) and chanter (sort of a bard? does a lot of support and also a lot of summoning!).
  4. Art – It’s not fancy animation, again, but the artwork is awfully pretty (and the art for the sequel now in production looks even prettier!). It’s an isometric RPG in the style of Baldur’s Gate but with a more refined art style. Behold the screenshots! 

And finally, I asked the PoE Discord chat for their top 10 reasons, so here are some additional opinions! In…no particular order, and definitely more than 10.

  • Space Pig!
  • Amazing worldbuilding
  • Fun, interesting characters who give you a more personal connection to the world
  • A different experience than you’d get from most modern RPGs
  • Renaissance like setting
  • well-written companions, who are their own people, and not there to just prop your character or the story
  • it has an actual mom character who doesn’t have a drama revolving around her family; she’s just away on a business trip xD
  • It looks gorgeous
  • You’re given a lot of room to create your own character
  • Good writing. Not in a background sense but in a literal sense. I like how the texts are written
  • The storyline is a more a personal one than just “save the world” (which is still somewhat included)
  • Mortals actually killed a god! Probably
  • You can slam someone with a grimoire!!

And finally, probably the most important reason to play PoE (courtesy of @fangmich :-D ) is:

Also, I would like to note that PoE has a relatively small fandom, but if the Discord and Tumblr are any indication, it’s a delightfully creative and welcoming one. 


Here’s the thing that annoyed me about ACOWAR, as in, I was really hyped for this and ACOWAR was such a huge let down: Amren. Nesta. The Bone Carver. The Weaver. Bryaxis. Hell, even Rhys’ “true form”.

But mostly Amren.

What do all of these have in common? They all have some sort of mystic power or “second skin”, their “true form”, which the reader has not yet seen and which they have not revealed to Feyre. Everyone constantly talks about how powerful and dangerous and scary they are (Amren is supposedly a nightmare they tell children about even beyond the wall). I was really really interested in what Amren’s “true form” would be, and from the popular “Amren’s a dragon” towards my far-fetched “Amren is a Crochan witch”- theory, I was speculating about this forever. Was she a goddess, Pirates of the Carribean style? A giant, perhaps, or something else? Why could she only drink blood? What the hell made her so powerful? She’s like 5000 years old and fucking ancient, so what’s her story?

Feyre always says things like “I knew it was better not to ask”, or “I was not as stupid as to question why she was drinking blood” (which, girl?? are you serious??? thank god for Nesta who actually asks these questions!!!), which gives the impression that Amren must be something reaaally horrible if even her CLOSEST FRIENDS have not even asked ONCE.

And then Amren jumps into the Cauldron (which is so badass!! i love her) and emerges as….giant lightbulb. Oh, she also has wings. She flies around for two seconds, destroys the enemie’s armada, and then she’s gone.

That’s it.

Sorry, but what’s so special about that? Why couldn’t she tell her friends? This world has really powerful fae, magical beings like the Suriel or the Weaver and all of this doesn’t even include what’s going on on the continent. In which way is Amren so much more terrible than the rest? “People died just because she flew close to them”, describes Feyre, and even though that’s obviously very powerful, it’s not really that scary compared to High Lord “I sometimes think about unleashing my power across the world and wiping the board clean” Rhysand.

Is she a phoenix? Is she a dragon with fire wings? We don’t bloody know, because her desription is so vague! We’ve never heard about beings like Amren before. We don’t know her “true” name. We don’t know anything about her original people. It’s just so scrappily written. Not fleshed out at all. There was such a huge build-up about Amren’s true form- and it turned out to be a short and unprecise description. (Here’s Amren’s true form. She’s dangerous and she has wings. Why she dangerous? She can kill many people at once, that’s why. How does it work? How does she kill? Why does she kill? Not important.)

And this goes as well for Nesta’s power (which is supposedly sooo huge and terrible, but I didn’t really understand until the end what she can actually do besides having this connection to the cauldron), Rhys’ “true” form (he doesn’t grow a second head, he doesn’t suddenly have a tail, he’s not suddenly hideous, there’s just a few more shadows and again, only a very vague description which tells us we should be scared of him), Bryaxis (WHYYY is he so scary) and even the Weaver’s and the Bone Carver’s powers. Yes, they are “powerful”. But what does that mean? Are they very skilled fighters? Are they teeth so sharp they can bite better? Do they paralyze their victims before killing? Do they have claws? WHY are they so deadly, why are they the way they are?

In the end, all of these “powerful” beings have only one power: to kill, and to kill a great number of people at the same time. That’s it. That’s why they are mystified, that’s why they are powerful. In the end, they are all the same. Their “forms” simply vary a little.

I loved a lot of things in ACOWAR, and I love the series. I also love when authors make up their own magical creatures. But in ACOWAR, I was just disappointed, especially because none of these creatures had creative, different powers or a background story. They are introduced, they are described as big and scary and then they are gone. 

Take the dementors in Harry Potter, for example. JK Rowling made them up. And they are big and scary. But why? Because they can suck your soul away, because they are lifeless, emotionless beings, because they have no faces, blabla…list goes on. We, as the readers, understand why they are scary. We understand why they are powerful. It’s being shown to us on multiple occasions. In ACOWAR, we are told, and that’s it. Nesta has great powers now. She made the cauldron give something back. What? We don’t know, that’s what. But she’s “like” the cauldron now. Make of that what you want.

And Amren, Amren who Lucien is afraid of, who smiles and you think she wants to kill you, Amren who is the “tiny ancient one”, whose name alone stirs fear in everyone around her, Amren who NEVER TALKED ABOUT HER TRUE FORM BECAUSE IT WAS SO SCARY….is simply an Illyrian on fire.

I feel very let down.

Originally posted by samisoffthewall

I fell I must add that I still love the series. This is by no means “Sarah J Maas hate”. I love so many things about the series- that’s the only reason why I’m so disappointed, because I care about it that much.