#“such an unquiet person”

[hooked-on-elvis]

Elvis' Sword Cane ⚔️

Elvis On Tour (1972)

Watching the doc for the millionth time and I've only noticed this now. I wondered if EP's cane was actually a weapon... and it looks like I was right. Apparently, all of Elvis' canes were also swords... and he was making it clear onscreen. LOL.

Subtle message: "Don't f*** with me".

Source video: Reddit

Elvis and Vernon Presley in Buffalo, New York. April 5, 1972.

[tamaharu]

rose in the novelization is so funny. shes like god this dude is arrogant and stupid. i can tell hes waiting for me to ask him what hes doing so im not doing that. and shes correct because the doctor gets antsy two minutes later and tells her what hes doing.

[weedle-testaburger]

i love nine and rose sm but i just realised this is technically a neg and i hate it

[fantastic-nonsense]

Things Kaz canonically does in the two years between Crooked Kingdom and Rule of Wolves:

(presumably) massively expands the Dregs' territory

buys Pekka's old club (the Emerald Palace) and completely renovates it, turning it into The Silver Six

massively expands the Crow Club to the point where it's "three times the size of every other establishment on the block"

builds an underground tunnel that goes from the Crow Club to the Geldstraat, where the Van Eck Mansion is

takes Jesper out on jobs with him often enough that Wylan has jokingly banned Jesper from answering the door when he knocks

learns about Ketterdam's Suli laborers and picks up additional knowledge of Suli culture

keeps up with Inej's whereabouts and helps her take out slavers

expands his information network to the Kerch colonies

is on friendly enough terms with the King of Ravka that he taught Nikolai how to pick locks and Nikolai feels comfortable personally writing him a letter when he needs to steal the titanium from Kerch

disguises himself just to follow people around on the streets

was planning to steal the titanium from the military base anyway just for fun

And that's just the stuff we see from Nikolai's and Zoya's incredibly limited perspectives during their Ketterdam sidequest

I 100% agree with Zoya when she thinks that "maybe Kaz was like Nikolai, a boy with an unquiet mind, a man in perpetual need of challenge" because ROW makes it so obvious that Kaz is bored and incredibly restless in his success. Someone get our boy a new life's purpose and a subscription to a long-running unsolved mystery podcast stat

[notanactressyayy]

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

[ghsttk]

private lessons.

Scenario: Where your biology teacher, Johnny Depp, helps you to improve your bad grades.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding (maybe), slight mention of age gap, creampie, cheating (Johnny is married)

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: I know this is quite cliche, but I love this kind of prompt so.. fuck it, the profile is mine, I post whatever I want KKMKLKK. English is not my first language, reader is not a minor.

“Come on, it is not that hard, try again.” Mr Depp insisted, his hand on your left shoulder. You had lost count of how many times he asked you to try again. You were in the empty classroom with him, your stern biology teacher. He asked you to wait until after class since your grades were quite low in his subject. Johnny took off his glasses and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You felt helpless because you did not understand the open book right in front of you. He was trying to teach you a few subjects that might be present on entrance exams, the first and actual one was the Reproductive System.

“Mr Depp, I can’t” You sighed, giving up for the third time. “Yes, you can. Reread it.” He insisted once more, pointing at the sentence in the old book. He exhaled tiredly, his grip on your shoulder tightening briefly before releasing it. “Let's have a small break, hm?” He patted your back and crossed his arms, looking away. The golden glint on his finger caught your attention, Mr Depp never mentioned a wife before — but he wasn't the type to even mention his personal life during classes. Though the thought of him marrying someone else made you somehow jealous.

He noticed your curious stare on his ring, rolling his eyes at the mere reminder of his unbearable wife. Johnny walked to his desk, sat down, and placed his glasses on the desk. His hands dragged down his face, exhausted. “What are you looking at?” He grumbled, being the usual stern type he was. You just watched him. “I didn't know that you're married.” You said softly, afraid of raising your tone with him. He huffed and played with the ring, twisting and sliding it on his finger, a mannerism he got as soon as he married. “It's not something I'm proud of” He muttered, as if the words slipped freely from his lips. You tilted your head, confused. “What do you mean?” 

Why is Johnny unproud of his marriage? It’s a big accomplishment in life. And since Johnny never spoke about his love life in classes, unlike other teachers, he was satisfied with it… wasn’t he?

“My wife,” He exhaled heavily. “She has been rather distant. I suspect she has found someone else.” He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on. It was clear that his relationship with his wife had taken a toll on him, mentally and physically. Your lips frowned sympathetically, noticing how tired your teacher was. “I’m sorry you must deal with that, Mr Depp…” You leaned forward on your seat, watching him. Seeing your usually stoic teacher this exhausted made you feel something, like a feminine impulse to comfort him.

“Don’t be, I shouldn’t be talking about this with a student. Are you done with your break?” He looked up at you. You stood up hesitantly, your eyes locked on his. “You must feel so.. lonely, without your wife's companion..” You said, hands unquiet. Johnny's eyebrows twitched, reluctant, but he nodded. “I-... Yes, I suppose it feels.” His eyes stayed on yours, like a hunter watching his prey. With slow steps, you stood next to him. Johnny was still sitting on his chair. Your eyes traveled his face, mapping every contour and detail, admiring. His serious gaze was rather exciting, it made you feel obligated to please him.

“You must be missing a feminine touch, right?” You whispered like your subconscious was talking for you. Johnny's expression remained stern, as if internally questioning his morals until a smirk appeared. “Oh, I am, ain't I?” He looked up and down at you, he knew what you were trying to do and he was slowly giving in. You tentatively placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning closer. “Trying to get a more hands-on lesson, puppy?” He asked in a low voice, teasing you with a wider smirk. His tone made you shiver, you were completely under his spell. Johnny's hands slowly moved to your waist, his thumbs caressing your sides.

“Puppy?” You asked. “Yes, you're my puppy.” He pulled you up and placed you on the edge of his desk. “You want a lesson, huh? Let's see if you get it this time.” He attacked your lips, swallowing your gasps. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging his long strands. His tongue possessed your mouth, claiming every inch of it. You slid your tongue against his tentatively, earning a stroke on your thighs from him.

You felt his fingers ghostly brushing towards the center, feeling the damp heat on the thin fabric of your panties. “Let's start with the female genitalia” He broke the kiss, looking down to your lap. Johnny's fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, gently pulling it down your ankles. He licked his fingertips before sliding a finger up your slit, feeling your wetness. He bit his lower lip, nodding in approval. Once he coated his fingers in your arousal, he brought them to his lips, tasting you. Johnny hummed, sucking his fingers. His cock throbbed in its confines.

A pop echoed through the empty classroom as he removed his fingers from his mouth, he dipped them between your legs and started to list. “Here are the labia majora” His fingers stroked your bigger pussy lips and you shivered in anticipation. “Here the inner ones” His thumb brushed against your sticky slit. He slides his thumb between your labia minora, dragging it up towards your clit. “Your urethra is located around here and…” Johnny trailed off as his fingertip reached your small bundle of nerves. “-And this little thing is your clitoris.” He rubbed tight circles against it, pressing his thumb to stimulate you.

“Oh, look how it swells…” He whispered praisingly, biting a smirk. “You like it, don’t you, little one?” He taunted, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. “Stimulating this cute little thing will make you aroused, and shortly soon become wet.” He kissed your neck twice, his lips lingering on your skin. His fingertips traveled down your pussy.

“And here, my pet. Here is the main attraction.” He teasingly stroked the entrance of your vagina, pretending to slide in but never doing it. You whined, eyes pleading to him to have mercy and just give in. “Shh… Once wet enough, it becomes easier to penetrate the vagina.” He slid two fingers inside, slightly curling them to caress your insides. Johnny started pumping his fingers in and out steadily, his satisfied grin widening as he noted your body responses. 

“Did you get it?” He whispered and kissed your temple. You moaned so softly, his fingers felt good, a lot better than your own. He buried his fingers deeper and tried again, stroking your inner walls mercilessly. “Did you get it, pup?” He teased and you nodded, another moan escaping your lips.

He removed his fingers, briefly sucking them again before unbuckling his belt. “Now, let's move to the male genitalia.” He unzips his tailored pants. “And then I’ll explain more of the whole process.” He winked, letting his pants fall. Your eyes were fixed on his hands as he pulled his boxers down just enough to free himself, his thick, veiny manhood standing hard and proud. You were really going to have sex with your teacher, a man almost twice your age.

Johnny wrapped his hand around the base of his length and started to point out. He cupped his balls with his other hand, careful yet with a certain custom. “These are the testicles, they are responsible for making sperm and are also producing testosterone” His hands moved up. “This is the shaft, as you can see.. and here, on the top, the glans” His thumb brushed the head of his cock. Your eyes watched every movement, horny and somewhat eager. Your hand reached to touch him, his amused smirk told you that you were allowed to. He released a shaky gasp as you touched his sensitive tip, already dripping precum.

“Feel it, puppy, look how excited I am for you” He whispered. Johnny brushes his thumb over his tip, collecting his precum before shoving it in your mouth, his other fingers cupping your chin. “Taste it, yeah..” He breathed, his other hand guiding his member towards your entrance. With gentle pushes, and the help of your drooling pussy, he easily slid in. Johnny groaned, your tightness enveloping his cock like a velvet glove. “Shit, that's it.” He cursed under his breath, pushing it all inside. “Now, I will fuck this pretty pussy and then fill your little womb with my semen, put a baby in you.” He warned with a malicious grin “And you will love every second of it.” Johnny started slow but it didn't take long for him to slam his hips against yours, not caring about the unholy skin slapping sound echoing through the room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the need to hold yourself onto something before your body gave into the pleasant sensation of his cock stroking your insides.

You tried to keep your eyes open, but everything felt so good. Johnny chuckled between grunts, seeing you struggling. “You're doing great, you're such a quick learner, pup” He praised, leaning to kiss you. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, hitting the head of his cock each time deeper inside of you. Johnny reached your chest with one of his hands, hastily ripping the buttons of your shirt open, freeing at least one breast. “Those are important as well, they'll produce milk to feed your baby, once you get pregnant.” He squeezed your nipple tightly, making you whine in pleasure.

You wrapped your wobbly legs around his waist, keeping him there — as if he ever wanted to leave. One of his hands sneaked between your legs, teasing your clit. “When you feel it, don't hold it, hear me?” He ordered. “I want you to be a good girl and fall apart on my cock.” Johnny quickened his pace, his free hand gripping your thigh so tight that might leave a mark later. And you felt it coming, the unmistakable feeling already pooling in your belly. Johnny whispered a few more encouraging phrases in your ear, a stark contrast between his gentle words and his rough thrusts, leading you to the fall. You melted in his arms, drenching his length. He followed you, almost instantly, flooding your insides, painting them white.

Johnny slowed his movements, looking into your eyes. “You did so well, puppy” He kissed your forehead. You looked back at him, panting. “I think I'll get at least B on your test, sir” You chuckled breathlessly. “Oh, you'll certainly do well, sweetheart. Get that B and I will give you my D as a reward” He winked, kissing you one last time.

Suddenly, a loud alarm interrupted your moment. Actually, interrupted everything, since you woke up in the classroom with everyone gathering their things to leave. You had slept during Mr Depp’s class. When standing up, your eyes locked with Johnny's. He let out an amused chuckle and shook his head.

"You'll need private lessons, pup.”

a/n: I apologize if something is written wrong, I did not proofread this and I unfortunately don't have biology classes anymore lol.

taglist: @drugs-and-daddyissues @iwnterlude

-- If you want to be tagged, just dm me!

[beggars-opera]

Since we’re all talking plagiarism this week I love folk music and the complete lack of ownership. I love that there’s like ten different versions of Spanish Ladies because every country wanted its own personalized version. I love how the same character can show up in a dozen songs. I love how The Unquiet Grave sometimes uses the same tune as Star of the County Down for some reason. I love the Wild West of music

[barrel-crow-n]

What if Kaz joined Sturmhond's crew

Listen, hear me out.

Kaz is bored as fuck in Rule of Wolves. That's so obvious. He built an underground tunnel under half the city, he expanded Dregs territory, he bought a new gambling parlour, he upgraded the Crow Club. He steals things for fun. But it's getting so boring.

"What are you without your vengance" "What will you do when there are no more scores to settle?" Kaz's whole life has been about revenge, and now that Pekka is gone, he doesn't know what to do with himself. This was made clear in both show and book (the quotes above) when the Jordie hallucination and Inej both ask him what he will do when there's no more revenge to exact. He never really thought about it but now his revenge is done. It's completed. Early. Kaz mentions how he was going to use his haul to start a new gang and destroy Pekka, but he clearly never thought it would be so soon. Now, he doesn't know what to do. He's rich. He's the king of the Barrel. He's got his gang. There is nothing left to do.

There's nothing in Ketterdam left to occupy him. He wants to be the king of it, and he loves the city, but he's bored out of his skull. So he goes on a voyage. He leaves his lieutenant in charge, and his gang have orders to continue terrorising the Barrel whilst he's gone, but Kaz personally slips away onto the sea. With Nikolai.

I chose Nikolai and not Inej because of how similar Kaz and Nikolai are. Nikolai slips away from his kingly duties, Kaz from his. Nikolai has an unquiet mind, so does Kaz. They both love to put on a show and a disguise and Nikolai's reputation on the sea is pretty ruthless. He fed a guy's fingers to a dog. Kaz would love that. Also when Inej finds out he went on the sea but on a ship that isn't hers it'll be funny. Do you see my vision?

[eelhound]

"In a famous scene in Book 6 of 'The Iliad,' Andromache, accompanied by her baby son and enslaved nurse, begs her husband, the great Trojan warrior Hector, to adopt a less dangerous military strategy, rather than face the enemy on the open plain. He refuses, and they part for the last time. In the original Greek, the wife and husband each use the same word to address one another: 'daimonios.' The word is cognate with 'daimōn' — 'spirit' or 'deity' (from which we get the English 'demon') — and presumably suggests, in its most literal sense, that a person is influenced by some superhuman power. Yet it is surprisingly common in Homer, generally used when one individual addresses another. It is sometimes taken to suggest little more than 'Sir' or 'Ma’am'; sometimes the context suggests it is negative ('possessed' or 'crazy'), sometimes the opposite ('You marvelous person!').

Many translators of this scene use different renditions of the word in the two instances. In Lattimore, Andromache calls Hector 'Dearest,' while he calls her 'Poor Andromache!'; in Fagles, Andromache calls Hector 'Reckless one,' while Hector calls Andromache 'Dear one'; in Fitzgerald, Andromache uses 'Wild one,' and Hector uses 'Unquiet soul' (a lovely phrase lifted from Shakespeare’s 'Merchant of Venice' — although oral poetry does not abound in clever literary quotations). I felt it was important to use the same word for both the wife addressing the husband, and the husband addressing the wife, to echo the symmetry suggested in the original, and I used 'strange' in both instances ('strange man … strange woman,' echoing the different genders of the original). I hoped that this word might hint at the Greek term’s suggestion of something unusual, perhaps divine or inhuman. This heartbreaking scene evokes both deep intimacy and profound estrangement between husband and wife, one of whom will soon be dead and the other enslaved."

- Emily Wilson, from "Emily Wilson on 5 crucial decisions she made in her ‘Iliad’ translation." Washington Post, 20 September 2023.

[micamicster]

Country Girl Blue Sargent

I hit the highway in a pink RV with stars on the ceiling

One True Love - The O'Kanes / Gravedigger - Willie Nelson / Marie Laveau - Bobby Bare / Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls / That Don't Impress Me Much - Shania Twain / Blowin' Smoke - Kacey Musgraves / Coat of Many Colors - Dolly Parton / Wide Open Spaces -The Chicks / I Wish I Was the Moon - Neko Case / The Lucky One - Alison Krauss / Passionate Kisses - Mary Chapin Carpenter / Love Will Turn You Around - Kenny Rogers / I'll Be Your Baby Tonight - Linda Ronstadt / Orphan Girl - Emmylou Harris/ Shut Up and Drive - Chely Wright / Help Me Make It Through the Night - Willie Nelson / Alibi - Hurray for the Riff Raff / Share the Moon - Indigo Girls / Something to Talk About - Bonnie Raitt / What's Your Mama's Name? - Tanya Tucker / The Unquiet Grave - Joan Baez / Boulder to Birmingham - Emmylou Harris / Landslide - The Chicks / Light of a Clear Blue Morning - Dolly Parton / On the Road Again - Willie Nelson / The Long Way Around - The Chicks

Country Boy? Dick Gansey

It's a mighty dark night and I made that drive, but I'll never get out of your love alive

Delta Dawn - Tanya Tucker / Southern Nights - Glen Campbell / Seven Year Ache - Rosanne Cash / Are You Ready for the Country? - Neil Young / Garden Party - Rick Nelson & the Stone Canyon Band / The Waiting - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers / Everybody Knows - The Chicks / Blue - LeAnn Rimes / Long Black Veil - Johnny Cash / Walkin' After Midnight - Patsy Cline / I Take My Chances - Mary Chapin Carpenter / Share the Moon - Indigo Girls / Something About What Happens When We Talk - Lucinda Williams / Valentine's Day - Bruce Springsteen / 'Til I'm too Old to Die Young - Moe Bandy / Easy Silence - The Chicks / It's Not Supposed to Be That Way - Waylon Jennings / Raise the Dead - Linda Ronstadt & Emmylou Harris / I’ll Go to My Grave Loving You - The Statler Brothers / Hang Me - Peggy Seeger / My Life - Iris DeMent / Those Memories of You - Trio / Oh What a Beautiful World - Rodney Crowell / Shenandoah - Bruce Springsteen / Our Town - Iris DeMent

Obviously we are taking a broad view of country music and one heavily influenced by my personal tastes blah blah but as always please understand that while these playlists may not be definitive, they are 100% Correct <3

Ronan and Adam's playlists

[warrioreowynofrohan]

For the first day of Silmarillion Daily - some thoughts on the Discord of Melkor.

The Great Music is a theme where Ilúvatar provides the broad strokes, and the Valar are encouraged to improvise upon it. The purpose of Melkor’s discord is not creativity, but in a sense the opposite of it - “to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself,” and thus to give one voice greater dominance over all the others, rather than all working together in their own ways. And that dominance and lack of creativity is the first effect: some are discouraged and stop singing, while others match him rather than following their own thoughts.

The Music is something of a speedrun of what Melkor later becomes - at the beginning he wants more power in order to make his vision a reality, but as he continues fighting against anything that is not his own music, he ceases to have any real vision of his own, but only the object of drowning out everyone else.

it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice

This is a pretty good encapsulation of what evil does to a person who chooses it, on a pattern repeated throughout Tolkien’s works (Melkor, Sauron, Fëanor, Saruman): any creative impulse or goal is drowned in the desire for power and dominance and crushing any opposition.

For all this, Melkor cannot overcome Ilúvatar’s guiding theme in the music, but as a consequence of this discord Ilúvatar’s theme becomes both sorrowful and more beautiful, the beauty coming from the sorrow. This is also the core theme of The Silmarillion: evil can destroy, it can bring sorrow, but it can never ultimately win.

behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity…deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came….it seemed that its most triumphant notes [of Melkor’s Discord] were taken by the other and woven into it own solemn pattern.

Lastly, there is a sharp contrast drawn between the attitudes of the other Ainur towards the vision of the Children of Ilúvatar, and the attitude of Melkor. The other Ainur are delighted at the prospect of people who are different from them, with whom they can communicate and from whose different ways of thinking and living they can learn:

when they beheld them, the more did they love them, being things other than themselves, strange and free, wherein they saw the mind of Ilúvatar reflected anew

But Melkor, by contrast, is jealous of them because they are different from him, and wants to control them and be obeyed by them:

he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men, envying the gifts with which Ilúvatar promised to endow them; and he wished himself to have subjects and servants, and to be called Lord, and to be a master over other wills.

In Tolkien’s works, almost invariably, more diversity and variation and creativity is a good thing, and trying to make everything done one way, your way, inevitably leads to ‘making people do want you want’ become the goal that precedes and displaces whatever it was that you wanted to do in the first place.

On another note, it’s fascinating that most of the Ainur other than Ulmo initially find the Sea unsettling (‘because of the roaring of the sea they felt a great unquiet’), even as the Elves will the first time they see it. It’s possible, in line with the above, that part of this is the wild and uncontrolled nature of the Sea; that it is, to Tolkien, the ultimate element of freedom, the thing that cannot be controlled and yet holds no dominion. This also fits with Ulmo’s role as the ‘loyal opposition’ to some of the other Valar, in his desire not to summon the Elves to Middle-earth, and to aid the Noldor after their departure; both or these are in line with allowing the Children of Ilúvatar more freedom to choose their own path.

[fukashiin]

i saw your tags on the ace drabble i wrote and OH MY GOD, i actually think I'm going insane and i need your thoughts on deuce and how he feels abt yuu

YES OMG IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE TAGS I WAS SPASMING OUUT IN MY BED THE WHOLE TIME WHILEI WAS WRITING THOSE. AND OHMYGPD OFC DEUYUU????? DEUYUU MY BELOVED IM SO CRAZY ABOUT THEM TOO WHERE DO I EVEN START

think about how deuce's ambition to turn over a new leaf before joining nrc was just a wispy little torch, prone to going out at literally any time because of how much he doubted himself and his abilities to prove himself to the world . He's shown some moments of fiery determination—but a man is not without his insecurities right???

and then you stumble into his life without any regard for the future. Like Yeah you may just be some uninteresting tumbleweed passing by to others at first (and maybe even to Him) , but GOD when you told both him and ace off to cut it out with their quarrelling??? When the flame in your eyes to face off against the blot monster burns brighter than a million suns goes unwavered???? Which contrasts the gentle, heartfelt smile you got on your face when your opponent has been finally laid to pieces???/ Holy Shit

i cannot exactly pinpoint where Deuce would start falling for yuu for the life of me but he's got it so achingly bad. you're such an important and precious figure in his life, you've showed him how to be him without acting so rigid 24/7, and you've showed him that there's so much more to a person than their gnarly Past. he feels like he can be normal around you without having to constantly prove a point, and your steady belief in him and his goals has him Running Laps in a frenzy (like literally). He treasures you—this befallen gift from another world that states upfront that brooding over the past is gonna get him nowhere, and promising that you'll both work on your ways to become the best versions of yourselves together. And he feels like he doesn't deserve you because youre wayy too out of his League.

AND THEN ofcourse we cant forget like literally the rest of the School population. or if we're being more specific - ace. He's gifted, uncannily talented, and is somewhat less of a trouble to the teachers when it comes to academics. and Oh!!! Hes one of your closest friends as well (and to Deuce's unquiet distress, possibly even the Closer One)!!! he attracts attention effortlessly and is a fast learner, both of which can be sore spots for deuce if mentioned. and he's thinking. thinking so heavily about what that could possibly entail-

but he won't let ace steal his thunder.

Because he's going to work and commit his time towards the things he loves

and one of those things is You.

youre everything he's ever aspired to be, and he'll waste every drop of blood, sweat, and tears if it means that he'll get a moment's long glimpse of that pretty smile you flash so shamelessly whenever something wonderful happens to you—no matter how weakened his body may get—

because the rings down the street certainly aren't cheap.

[badxwolf]

Who are your DW crushes? Bonus points if they’re one episode characters!

An opportunity to talk about all the beautiful women that I am in love with from Doctor Who???? Christmas has come early!!

Obligatory Rose Tyler is the most gorgeous person ever in the whole universe post but I wouldn’t say I have a crush on her bc she’s more big sister vibes to me 🫶🏻 (Billie Piper on the other hand… awooga)

In terms of main characters I have a massive crush on Bill Potts and the Thirteenth Doctor. Clara is also v cute.

Now… one off characters…

ADA GILLYFLOWER THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I ADORE YOUUUUUU!!!!!!! I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU!!!! YOU DESERVE THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also Abigail (A Christmas Carol), Gwyneth (The Unquiet Dead), and I had a huuuge crush on Miss Evangelista from Silence in the Library when I was younger and still do tbh.

Beautiful women appreciation hours 🫶🏻🏳️‍🌈

[chthonic-cassandra]

2 December 2024

Tea: Blackberry Fig Green Tea - this appears to no longer be sold by the company which made it, which is a good thing because it was so undrinkable that I couldn't finish a full cup. Blackberry and fig are flavors that sometimes work in black tea, but with the astringency of green tea they became impressively foul.

Hot chocolate: Milky 50% - I am really a dark chocolate girl, but this was smooth and lovely.

Perfume: Incubus - this had lots of musk, which I generally like, but the combination of that with the sage gave me something I found cologney and somewhat unpleasant; the edge of sweet caramel felt out of place. Sort of appropriate for its inspiration, as I wouldn't really want to have an incubus around either.

Book: Kay Redfield Jamison, Fires in the Dark: Healing the Unquiet Mind - this wanted to be a critical theory-history-psychological theory synthesis like that of Annie Rogers (the best of the 'seriously mentally ill' person turned-therapist memoirists by far) but Jamison does not have the intellectual virtuosity for that, so it ended up being pretty incoherent. There were some effective sections where Jamison clearly just is herself moved by a particular historical figure and is effectively communicating that (W. H. R. Rivers, Paul Robeson), but also way too much discussion of Mary Poppins and not enough of a critical gaze on mental health treatment.

Movie: Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

[whoreviewswho]

What phantasmagoria is this? - The Unquiet Dead, 2005

There is an element of fun to be derived for anoraks such as ourselves in exercises of comparison and contrast. One such game I have been musing upon lately relates specifically to Doctor Who writers of the original and revived series. For example, Steven Moffat is the modern Robert Holmes, Russell T Davies something more like a Terrance Dicks and Mark Gatiss, the subject of today's discussion, is perhaps more akin to a Bob Baker and Dave Martin. To a certain kind of fan, this might sound incredibly derisive and, to an extent, it is but it is worth noting that the original series' Bristol Boys were hardly hacks or even especially poor writers. Between the two of them, as a partnership or otherwise, no less than nine stories were broadcast in their names over eight years and every single one of them is bristling with creativity and energy. If anything, the downfall of Baker and Martin was that they brought too many ideas to a Doctor Who script. But despite really nobody pointing to any one of their serials and crying "Yes, that one's my favourite", it would be ludicrous to suggest their work left little impact with iconography of Axons, the Mutts, K-9 and Sarah Jane's Andy Pandy costume being etched into the minds of audiences for years to come.

And Gatiss is much the same. Contributing just as many stories over a twelve year period as well as appearing in front of the camera and helming one of the show's finest spin-off ventures, his legacy is arguably even harder to ignore. True as it is that he was never awarded tasks as monumental as The Three Doctors or The Hand of Fear nor creating something as iconic as K-9, Gatiss' unwavering position as the Moff's reliable partner ensured his mark on the series would be left no matter what he was writing and, even then, what he was writing did offer up its fair share of iconic moments. Like the kids who grew up with the Bristol Boys, you'd be hard pressed to find a fan my age who was not unnerved by the peg dolls, introduced to the Ice Warriors or able to recreate the exact cadence of Maureen Lipman's "HUNNNGRYYYYYYYY" at a moment's notice. Hell, they probably even learnt who Winston Churchill was thanks to him. Yet, the comparison still is not flattering. At the end of the day, I am celebrating Mark Gatiss for being a competent writer during two eras of Doctor Who where the overall production was some of the best it has ever been at every level. 

With this in mind, perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Gatiss' legacy is the one he was never allowed to have – the showrunner. Gatiss pitched a complete reboot of the series with G*reth R*berts and Cl*yton H*ckman but obviously lost out to Davies and, it has to be said, the prospect of even one full season of stories that are about as strong as Empress of Mars and The Shakespeare Code is hard to get excited about. There were some potentially interesting aspects such as the Doctor being introduced as an antique shop owner, the continuation of the serial format and Derek Jacobi as the Doctor. All of these things could have made for something entertaining to watch.

But reflecting on this pitch gets us to the biggest problems with Mark Gatiss as a Doctor Who writer and, arguably, the same things that made him the perfect co-writer for Sherlock; he is an old-fashioned, conservative writer and a dreadful romantic for all things nostalgia. His scripts are like the TV equivalent of an interactive museum exhibit that passionately recreates bygone eras. Sometimes this comes good, sometimes it does not but they are qualities that make it hardly surprising that Russell T Davies found him the perfect person to pen the very first historical revived Doctor Who.

Like practically all of Davies' initial run on the programme, My Name's Dickens... Charles Dickens (as it was originally titled) came about from a brief he hired Gatiss to fill. Davies insisted that the story take place in Cardiff, be set during the Victorian era and feature Charles Dickens in an adventure with charlatan medians. Gatiss' original pitch was entitled The Crippingwell Horror and took place in a hotel for fake medians with the character that would becomes Sneed being an employee who suddenly realises his powers are not a mere act. Interestingly, the original script would have drawn some similarities with The Empty Child two-parter with the character that became Gwyneth being haunted by the ghost of her recently deceased brother. Across the various drafts and at the production team's behest, the script became a less and less grim affair with a healthy injection of humour and self-awareness. The concept of the Gelth, however, was present across all versions with Gatiss taking inspiration from a childhood nightmare for the image of the possessed Mrs. Pearce.

In the context of its home season, The Unquiet Dead is perfectly slotted. The third story (and episode) of the season, it follows The End of the World with something completely different. It shows the full breadth of the programmes basic possibilities across three weeks and sets the template for the three modes Doctor Who will continue to alternate between and subvert until the present day. This was probably disappointing for some longterm fans as it does lay down a fundamentally different foundation to the 1963 season. In Verity Lambert's first three stories, Doctor Who was a survivalist drama that oscillated between educational historical settings, futuristic political allegories and surrealist horror flavours. Davies' Doctor Who was a soap opera that shifted between satires of contemporary England, futuristic camp absurdities and pastiches of revered literature. Neither of these is more valid but the distinction is essential to understanding how British television had changed over forty years and, indeed, the kind of fans that each version of the programme has continued to garner.

It is also important in understanding what The Unquiet Dead is actually accomplishing as it is essentially intending to fulfil a dual function. The first, as we have established, is to introduce a new audience to the historical Doctor Who but the second, and arguably harder, is to reintroduce fans to the historical Doctor Who. The way it goes about these things is the same; it turns to pastiche. For new audiences, the cultural context of Charles Dickens' writing and his literary depiction of the Victorian era is heavily leaned upon as a shorthand for establishing the world and characters of Gatiss' story. Leaning on tropes and cultural signifiers is an essential aspect of streamlining for the forty-five minute format and really the only choice for a show as fast paced as Doctor Who set out to be. It's a very savvy choice and, to be fair, not an entirely new one since it is essentially something David Whittaker was employing as far back as The Crusade. However, Whitaker never had to contend with the second aspect of this that works which is making the story equal parts a pastiche of the Doctor Who historical arguably a literary style in its own right in 2005. Henceforth, The Unquiet Dead would be just as the general audiences remembered and expected it to be; famous figures from history, gothic horror tones and colourful and exaggerated period stereotypes. 

The latter of these two examples, of course, pertain almost exclusively to the mid-'70s period which, fair enough, was when Doctor Who was at its peak of general audience popularity (and even then it's pretty much exclusively Talons of Weng-Chiang we are referring to). As for the first, that practice was pretty much abandoned after The Crusades. No, this is not a genuine Doctor Who historical anymore than this is a genuine recreation of Victorian Cardiff. Rather, it is a streamlined and romanticised version and the one that Gatiss is most fond of recreating (and he would several times after this, even in Sherlock). Authentic to real history and Doctor Who or not, The Unquiet Dead set the precedent for practically every historical episode moving forward with every season (save for exclusively series seven) uniting its main cast with a celebrity historical figure for a heightened romp around some bygone literary tropes.

The more attentive reader would likely have noticed by now that I have been avoiding actually talking about The Unquiet Dead itself for some time now. There is a good reason for this which is simply that, besides the context surrounding it, there is very little to actually say. Even what I have is mostly just production background and reiterating points El Sandifer made years ago now (and more eloquently than me at that). I promised an analysis of the episode so let's just bite the bullet and get on with it. As I have already suggested, there is plenty to like about The Unquiet Dead that makes it hard to write off as some wholly disposable runaround. Being so obviously in the mould of the original show, more so than its predecessors and really any other episode of the first season, there is a simplicity to the affair that I find works to its advantage. There are some mature but simply laid out themes of spirituality versus science that come together rather deftly in a climax that hinges on children realising that an open-mind and attentive nature can allow for new discoveries and broader horizons. The constant reoccurrence of gas as a thematic symbol is effective and easy for children to spot. It provides a coherent, visual link between the Victorian era and the modern day, the old world hurtling into a new age.

Dickens himself is key to conveying these themes as well which is impressive considering that Gatiss was reluctant to include him in his story in the first place. Dickens is portrayed marvellously by Simon Callow, an expert on the author with prior experience playing the character and recreating his public readings. Callow was adamant that for him to sign on, the script would have to be of a sufficiently high quality. Allegedly, his initial reaction to the news that the author would be part of a Doctor Who was disappointment, feeling that fiction often did an injustice to the man. Thankfully, he was very much won over by the material and brought, not only the best performance of anybody in the episode but, some serious credibility to a programme that needed it. Simon Callow does not just sign on for any old slop and why should he when he brings such gravitas and grandeur in his characterisation of Dickens? Callow single-handedly elevates the already solid material to make the part simply superb. Like all the great character actors, and like this episode's approach to history, he may not be one-to-one accurate to Dickens as he was in real history but he embodies his spirit and essence of the author as he is remembered by us today.

So Dickens becomes the heart of the narrative, somewhat inevitably given the mythic status he holds in British literary canon. While Rose is still serving as an audience surrogate in the sense that hers are the eyes with which we view the past (more on that later), it is Dickens who serves a more traditional protagonist role to no small extent. If we consider the Doctor and Rose as analogous for Doctor Who as a series and the Gwyneth/Sneed double-act as our vessels for historical pastiche, Dickens falls in between as the baffled and wry viewer of events who understands the rules of period costume dramas and is being introduced to the weirdness of a Doctor Who story. All of the characters are awarded strong moments but only Dickens receives a full-blown opportunity for change and it is he who actually saves the day (with a healthy dose of real-world science for the kiddos at that). Dickens is the narrow-minded know-it-all whose beliefs are challenged by exposure to a new facet of his world and this, on the surface, is an extremely obvious direction to go. In the absence of a full-blown special, The Unquiet Dead is honorarily regarded by some fans to be the Ninth Doctor's Christmas episode and the allusions to Dickens' most renowned work in that arena are anything but subtle. The door-knocker is a cute touch and offering Dickens his own Scrooge arc, of a sort, works well enough however on-the-nose it is but going so far as to quote the book, not only several times but, as his final line is a level of overtness that I could have done without.

What is more interesting to talk about is Dickens' role in a metafictional sense. Like every story of the first series, The Unquiet Dead is drenched in metatextuality, in this case responding directly to its prior television version. Dickens is the original series of Doctor Who; a beloved icon that still has many fans that has grown stale, burnt its bridges yet continues to go on and on "the same old show... [p]erhaps I've thought everything I'll ever think". Yet, Dickens' worldview is challenged and his morale reinvigorated as the new show, the Doctor and Rose, enter the scene and disrupt his entire understanding. Doctor Who is more than capable of continuing in a new form for a modern world but its older form, the one Dickens embodies, cannot continue alongside it. Zooming out to a broader lens, we can see an even cheekier read where Dickens is symbolic of an entire storytelling approach for science-fantasy and drama that is reinvigorated by the potential of what Doctor Who could be.

Despite Dickens taking over the narrative, the medium aspect was obviously not abandoned and the bridge between the two worlds in this story is not Dickens but literally and figuratively embodied through Gwyneth, played very charmingly by Eve Myles. Gwyneth is the core character embodying the spirituality aspect of the story, essentially serving as the opposite for Dickens. The latter refuses to accept the Gelth exist because they do not fit the facts of his worldview while Gwyneth accepts them more readily than anyone because the facts presented align with her spiritual beliefs. Gwyneth is a medium, communicating with her “angels”, the Gelth, and ultimately understands both conflicting parties’, the Doctor and Rose's, ideologies but refuses both and makes her own choice to help the Gelth, regardless of what others think and makes her own choice to destroy them be sure it is what she believes to be right.

Besides it being a good choice formally to air this episode in the third slots, The Unquiet Dead also lees back an appropriately further layer to the Doctor's character, challenging the audience's morality without ever making him non-empathetic. Plagued by guilt over the consequences of the Time War, still something that we know nothing about beyond the fact that it wiped out there Time Lords, the Doctor offers the Gelth the opportunity to roam freely amongst the bodies of the dead, much to Rose’s disdain. The Doctor's role has little precedent in the televised show, clearly suggesting that his mistake comes from an overwhelming and misplaced emotional response. The Doctor projects his guilt onto a situation that takes advantage of that but his moral position is never seriously challenged. Rose takes a more conservative position which stems naturally from the best scene in the episode where she and Gwen are conversing about their respective upbringings. The scene overtly positions Rose as the educated, condescending lady of privilege which is a delightfully intelligent role to cast her in given her introduction in Rose explicitly establishing the opposite. Rose thinks she knows better than Gwyneth because she thinks she is smarter than her. It could have been a disastrous move and it is impressive that it never paints her in an entirely unlikable light. Importantly too, this scene is written by Russell as a late addition to extend the runtime. 

Everything in the story up until here is working but the climax is ultimately where it kind of breaks down and never recovers. The story needs the Doctor to be right for the arc and theme of enlightenment and indulging other perspectives to broaden your own to actually work but it also needs to have an exciting third act with monsters and life or dearth stakes. So, the Gelth are just irredeemably bad beings. As Sandifer exposes in her own essay, this story is infamously criticised for xenophobic undertones regarding the Gelth and she breaks the entire argument down incredibly well. My only addition to that critique is that I think it is barely a matter of conjecture to say that this reading was unintended given Russell's insistence upon recreating the 1980 moment from Pyramids of Mars. The scene was, mercifully, cut but the intention was to explicitly depict a present-day Earth that has been invaded by the Gelth which would have more than doubled-down on their position as irredeemable monsters. 

This is not a story about immigration, it is not Flip-Flop, and Rose is never painted as morally correct for insisting that their cohabiting the Earth is wrong. The focus of the conflict is on the whys of their choices, not the what. The Doctor is perhaps the most enlightened, for lack of a better word, of the cast but his emotions override his judgement and he allows the Gelth a way to invade while Gwyneth has an unwavering belief in her angels and the blind faith gets her killed. Dickens is only able to save the day once he accepts that his life has been fundamentally changed which leaves Rose as the one character whose development is somewhat confused. Rose thinks herself superior to Gwyneth due to her relative education and life experience but is shamed by her for assuming she can make decisions on her behalf. The result of this is... nothing really. Rose just sympathises with Gwyneth and is as moved by her death as her two surviving companions and that is about all here is to it. The sombre tragedy of the scene following Gwyneth's death ("She saved the world. A servant girl. No one will ever know.") is staged like a story that is fundamentally about class but The Unquiet Dead just is not. It's not that it doesn't come up from scene to scene but the theme is not a driving force of the story until it very suddenly and awkwardly is.

The Unquiet Dead is a good episode of Doctor Who with a great sense of atmosphere and tonal consistency but is more than a little shy of greatness. The production quality is excellent, the corpses and wonderfully creepy, there are great performances from the whole cast and the only real holes in the production are the lack of ambition in direction and editing (it is cut very slowly) and the surprising lack of score from Murray Gold that is something I would never criticise a story with his name attached for otherwise. The final script here is something much messier than the rest of the production and favours individual moments over a cohesive bigger picture. It is entertaining, clever and the right story to be airing three weeks into the show's run but becomes, nonetheless, somewhat more and more insubstantial on repeat viewings. It is a solid episode of a promising programme that likely needed at least one more draft to tease out its most interesting ideas. And maybe tackle that inadvertently problematic bit. In other words, the consummate Gatiss. Start as you mean to go on, I suppose. 

[honourablejester]

Starfinder Character Concept: A Luminous Skeletal Priest

Okay. So. Reading the Ports of Call setting book presented me with the fabulous concept of the Last Call, a colony ship turned mobile funerary barge:

“Space is a minefield of fatal disasters, and the undead can arise from those who die gruesomely or without last rites. Knowing this, a Pharasmin sect called the Cemeterians repurposed a colony ship as their flying temple and set out to provide funerary services across the galaxy. Having now operated for over 50 years, the starship is known as Last Call is easily recognized by its sign reading “Let the End be an Ending” painted above its docking bay. The ship periodically jumps across the galaxy, serving as a trading post, morgue, and neutral ground for all but the unrepentant undead.”

This is enchanting to me. Combined with all the space undead you get in Starfinder, like my beloved Marooned Ones. Just the idea of a ship that is going out to find the wrecks, the dead stations, the lost colonies, in order to grant the dead their last rites and to lay the unquiet dead to rest. Or to just provide services for ships or stations that don’t have their own priests. I so want a character who at least spent time on her as part of their background.

And then, while I was thinking about deathly space priests and their funeral ship, I remembered a Starfinder race that I have loved since I first read about them: the Shatori. I noticed them because of the image firstly, Shatori are 7ft tall translucent immortals with glowing bones. They have a glowing skeleton that shines through their semi-transparent flesh. It’s amazing.

They accidentally set off an invasion of their world by daemons of Abaddon while looking for alternate power sources way back when, and created a spell to keep some of them alive in stasis until the invasion was over, but messed it up and wound up hibernating for centuries in a pocket dimension next to the Boneyard, the deathly energies of which gradually converted the sleeping Shatori into living but sterile immortals. They can’t give birth, can’t create more Shatori, so the survivors in that stasis dimension are the only Shatori’s that are ever going to exist anymore, and each death among them is an irrevocable loss. So they are, as a people, incredibly conscious of death, and seek to preserve their knowledge against their loss. As well as live full lives, in honour of all the Shatori that will never get to live.

Which. Combined with the Last Call.

Now. Shatori do not generally have truck with religion. They’re essentially immortal space Vulcans, they believe in impartiality and rational self-interest. And Pharasma, in particular, is complicated for them, on account of her Boneyard being the thing that … well, did the thing.

But they believe that each death is an irrevocable loss. They believe in preserving the knowledge and actions of those who have died. They believe in ensuring that those who are lost are not forgotten. So maybe one of them might be willing to crew a ship and find the lost dead and ensure that their names, their deeds, their knowledge, and the nature of their deaths, is recorded and not lost to time and the vast emptiness of space.

Also. Imagery-wise. A 7ft tall luminescent death priest, aboard a flying funeral ship. I’m just saying.

I do think I want an investigative sort of Cemetarian here. Not just last rites. They’re Shatori, they want to know the hows and whys and what-is-lefts. Recovery and preservation of knowledge, so that those who have died did not die wholly in vain. In which case, they might actually be in favour of the survival of intelligent undead, as it preserves the person and the knowledge, which might have maybe driven a little bit of a wedge between them and more zealous Cemetarians (and Pharasmins in general). So they might have been politely asked to leave the Last Call at some point. But they’re interested in continuing the calling regardless. In finding the dead of space, and laying them properly to rest, and recording the nature and circumstances of their deaths, and retrieving as much of who they were and what they knew as possible.

A mystic, almost certainly. Not a direct devotee of Pharasma, though they masked that well for a long time, more a simple chronicler of the dead. I think the Akashic connection? Knowledge, the preservation of knowledge. I like that Shatori already get detect magic, grave words, and stabilise as spell-like abilities. They lean towards deathly investigation from a standing start. We’ll likely build their spell repertoire to match that.

For background … I don’t think I’d go priest. I suspect they may not still be a member of Pharasma’s flock, on account of not actually being that religious or opposed to undeath on a philosophical level. I think I’m going to go with Void Nomad instead. Touched by the isolation and death of the vast cold reaches of space. We’re going to be a philosophical sort of Shatori on an evolving journey of discovery regarding death, that thing which is the horror and inevitable end of our entire species. By studying and honouring and embracing those who have perished to the void, we are slowly learning to accept our own inevitable end.

So. A quiet, contemplative lady, a shining skeletal Shatori on a journey of discovery, death and acceptance.

For a name … I deeply love the names of the planets in the Shatori’s home system of Disaj: Perdane, the world they lost to Abaddon, Perdure, the world on which they enacted their desperate and doomed attempt to escape death, and Prevail, a world relatively unscathed by past mistakes. There’s a theme there that I like. So. She’s going to have renamed herself out in the void, to remind herself of home and to keep the knowledge alive.

Durance Vail. An ex-Cemetarian of the Last Call. A Shatori void nomad akashic mystic. Heh.

(Or, put another way, and still to my giddy delight, a 7ft glowing skeleton lady who would like to go exploring spooky shipwrecks and speak with dead people for broadly altruistic purposes).

(Also, yes, space undead and nautical horror will never not be themes for me. I like spooky ships).