#I’m quite fond of that evil british man

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (July 9/2021) - NotDream SMP

Ponk comes to Foolish with a special request.

Tommy and Tubbo work on Tommy’s house and a strange new visitor arrives on the server.

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VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

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- Ponk works on the Boom Station and places down signs with instructions along the corridor

- Foolish examines the damage Drista’s pig squad did in Kinoko Kingdom and repairs it

- Ponk calls Foolish as the evil version of himself. Ponk arrives there

- They walk and talk to the tree house, and Ponk breaks some news

Ponk: “You see...I am but a humble servant of this poor world, and you’re a god. Right? Loosely? Well, your godliness is pretty cool, you know? And me being a humble wanderer of this cruel world...it is not my place to take a king’s life, Foolish.”

...

Ponk: “How many kings do you know, Foolish? How many kings?”

Foolish: “I don’t know, is this a trick question?”

Ponk: “I’m pretty sure you know two, alright?”

Foolish: “Wait, who’s the second one?”

Ponk: “Eret and...Sam. You know Sam’s king of the creepers. He wears a crown on his head, do you know that? Apparently he is.”

...

Ponk: “But Foolish...if it comes, a time and a place, would you do that for me? Would you take Sam’s life, yes or no Foolish?”

Foolish: “Well, is there like a good reason for it?”

- Ponk says he’s said enough and goes back down, saying he can get other friends to do it

Foolish: “Is this for the arm? You wanna kill him for the arm? I thought you and Sam were like, best buddies.”

Ponk: “...Best buddies?! BUDDIES?! Are you mad? Are you mad?!”

Ponk: “Foolish, Foolish, if I ripped off your arm and killed you -- he killed me, Foolish! He killed me!”

Foolish: “Oh...did you have it coming?”

Ponk: “I DID NOT HAVE IT COMING, FOOLISH! I DIDN’T! You know what I did? You know what I did, Foolish? I -- it wasn’t even -- ugh, and he did that to prove a point! Now I’m doing this to prove a point, and apparently my point isn’t gonna be proven because you’re not a good friend, Foolish.”

Foolish: “Woah, well don’t you think that’s a lot to ask for? Hey, good friend, let’s go murder someone.”

Ponk: “Well, Foolish, look. You’re not murdering them. You are simply a tool in this revenge plot, Foolish, okay?”

Foolish: “So what would I be doing?”

Ponk: “You’ll have to press a button or swing a sword, Foolish. That is all.”

Foolish: “Press a button or swing a sword.”

- Foolish doesn’t think that sounds too hard. Ponk leads him to the barn

Ponk: “Look, Foolish. Everything will be laid out for you, okay? Everything. Alright? You’ll just have to be there. You’ll have to be there and be square, okay? You know who built this? Come this way, you know who built this?”

Foolish: “Alyssa?”

Ponk: “You know, Alyssa was a good friend of mine. She would have done this for me without asking any questions.”

- They’ve been through so much together, as Batman and Robin, as Holmes and Watson...so if Foolish wants the duo to carry on, he’ll have to help Ponk seek his revenge

- Ponk can’t swing a sword nowadays. She tells Foolish he doesn’t have to help her if she doesn’t want to, but at least he must witness it

Ponk: “We need a witness to prove to the world that this happened, okay? Someone has to write it down in history.”

Foolish: “Do you still -- another question. Do you still have plans for that one thing? On what you want to do with it?”

Ponk: “Foolish, Foolish, Foolish, you see...a good plan comes together, alright? And a good plan master never reveals his plan. It’s all about playing six-dimensional chess. I am ten seconds -- ten seconds ahead of everyone!”

- Ponk asks Foolish to take his helmet off, promising they won’t put a pumpkin on him. They ask Foolish to trust them with a TNT cannon

- They talk about building the tree

Ponk: “When the time comes, can I trust you?”

Foolish: “Mm...you think Sam deserves this?”

Ponk: “Yes. 100%.”

- Foolish says he needs time to think about it before he says yes. The two part ways and Ponk goes to cry in the forest. She’ll ask Niki next

Ponk: “Okay, Foolish...but you’re a god! You’ve killed many people, have you not? You’ve probably had human sacrifices in your lifetime!”

Foolish: “Well -- I -- uh -- I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna go now!”

- He leaves the call

- Tommy logs in and sees Puffy’s new house. He promptly tears it down

- Then he rebuilds his own house while talking to chat

- While building the roof, a spider comes over. Tommy is fond of it and names it Shroud. He asks Foolish for a nametag, then Ponk. Ponk is offended at Foolish from the Endermite incident

- Foolish brings over a nametag for Shroud and they get Shroud back to the house

- Tommy finishes the house. Ranboo logs on just to say “cum” and immediately leaves. Then Tubbo logs on and runs over

- Tommy shows Tubbo Shroud

- He decides to go plant some trees around. They head to Las Nevadas to get more and Tommy shows Tubbo how to not be rich. They discuss Mumbo Jumbo, as Tommy claims he is too British

- They return home and fix it up a bit

- Then they decide to destroy Karl’s house. They get rid of the first layer and leave a message saying they’ll get rid of the rest if Karl says he’s using it

- Tommy goes to gather more dirt. Ranboo logs on as the Pringles guy then logs off. They start arguing over Pringles cans

- Ranboo logs in as himself. Tommy and Tubbo start filling in the holes in Tommy’s basement

- They go to get more dirt

- NotDream123 logs on. Tommy and Tubbo go looking for him at Spawn, wondering who he is, but he isn’t there

- Quackity logs on and starts running around Las Nevadas. Foolish is confused

- Tommy and Tubbo bein to run back to the main area when they notice NotDream following after them

Tommy: what’s your name?

???: whats your name

Tommy: tommy?

Tommy: Big Man

???: mine is Tom

- Tommy gets mad and says that his name is Tom, and “Tom” replies that Tommy said his name is Tommy

- Tubbo wants to keep him as a trophy

- Tommy asks what Tom’s interests are. Tom asks what Tommy’s are, and Tommy says “girls,” “Britain” and “dogs”

Tom: Same

- Quackity logs off. Tom likes the Queen as well, and his catchphrase is “POG,” which Tommy is not pleased about

Tubbo: “You’ve got like a little mirror buddy!”

- Tom gets a Discord

Tommy: “He has a stache! I can’t grow a stache!”

Tubbo: “Oh, so maybe he’s the better version!”

Tommy: “No! No!”

Tubbo: “I honestly -- honestly, I can’t even tell you guys apart.”

- Foolish and Ranboo spy on them from afar. Tommy and Tubbo decide to keep Tom for themselves and build “L’Landburg” around Tom to claim him

- Tom joins their call on Discord (his username is “NotDream”). At Tommy’s request, Tubbo goes into the other room to hit Ranboo. Ranboo quits Tubbo’s game and Tubbo disconnects

- Tom knows Dream since Dream whitelisted him. They start walking back to the main area and Tommy asks questions about how Tom joined

- Tom has watched all of Tommy’s streams, even the very first where Tommy joined and got exiled to the snow biome. Tommy presses him on what the very first Hypixel game he played in the first stream was, and Tom says “Skywars,” which he claims is how they say “Bedwars” where he’s from

- Tom is apparently from “Bedskytown.” Tommy pulls Tubbo aside and Tubbo has the idea to put Tom in Tommy’s basement cell

- Tommy reminds Tubbo of the “Tomtract,” which states that Tubbo is only allowed to be friends with one Tom

- Tommy gets Tom and they start walking down the path. Tommy asks Tom if he has a girlfriend. Tom asks if Tommy has a girlfriend and Tommy says yes, so Tom says yes as well

- Tommy accuses Tom of just being Dream. Tommy asks him if he likes smoking. Tom asks if Tommy likes smoking. Tommy says yes and Tom says yes. Tommy then says he doens’t like smoking and Tom doesn’t like it either

Tommy: “What’s your favorite smell?”

Tom: “What’s your favorite smell?”

Tommy: “You first.”

Tom: “Women.”

- They get back to the house and Tommy shows Tom Shroud the spider. Tom breaks a glass block, then grabs an iron chestplate from the chest to wear. Tubbo worries about Tom getting more geared up, but Tommy insists that neither of them wear armor

- Tom puts on some diamond pants and Tommy asks Tubbo to hand him his armor to follow the rules of the Tomtract

- Tom goes into the back room and Tubbo says he’s escaping. Tom asks if he’s a hostage, then asks if Tommy likes Coke. Tommy says yes, so Tom hands him the picture of Coke

- Tommy threatens to fall out with Tubbo if he doesn’t follow the Tomtract, so Tubbo walks away. Tom whispers to Tommy to say something so Tommy shouts to come back, then walks out after into the rain to dramatically ask for the armor. Tubbo cannot argue with a statement like this, so he gives it

- Tommy puts the armor in the chest. Tubbo asks what Tom’s surname is, and Tom says “Simmons”

- Tom runs away while Tommy is explaining his school’s points system and Tubbo tries to chase after him, but Tommy says not to since they should make a good impression. Instead, the two return to filling in dirt

- Tommy turns around and abruptly comes face to face with Tom 

- Tommy asks Tom some more questions about why Dream added him and what his purpose is

Tom: “What’s your purpose?”

Tubbo: “To find happiness and eternal bliss.”

Tommy: “...To get bitches.”

- Tom’s purpose is the same. Tommy scolds him because one should not call women “bitches.” Tom agrees with that as well

- Tommy brainstorms fun opinions for Tom to agree with. He likes the Sidemen and thinks they make the best vlogs. He thinks KSI is the best YouTuber and everything he does is incredible. He thinks George is really ugly (Tom pauses, then leaves the game)

- Tom comes back, Tommy repeats it, and Tom pauses for a long time before saying he agrees. Dream would never say that, and Tom is not Dream

- Tom begs for food, so Tommy eventually gives him some after leaving for some time

- Tommy says that the Manhunts are faked and Tom agrees, but he would have to ask his friend Detective Dream. Tommy and Tubbo are confused at why there are so many and ask to speak with Detective Dream

- Tubbo suspects that Dream may be able to clone himself

- Detective Dream arrives and Tubbo wants to interrogate him. Tubbo changes to his inspector outfit and Tommy changes into his suit

- Detective Dream’s first name is “Detective” and his surname is “Dream.” His parents are Mom Dream and Dad Dream. Tubbo concludes the case and decides that Det. Dream is official

- Tubbo looks Det. Dream in the eyes and gets him to say that he is a real detective. If that is true, Tubbo says, Detective would have laser eyes. Detective uses his laser eyes while looking at Tubbo’s face and Tubbo’s eyes get messed up

- Detective gets killed by Tubbo’s dog

- Detective knows about Dream and he has inside info on him that he can’t share

- “Drinnit” is Tommy’s detective name. He has been working on this case for fifty years

- After some more detective talk, Detective leaves. Tubbo tells Tommy he plans to kill Tom, as there can only be one

- NotDream comes back, this time dressed in a duck onesie. He is “John” now, and Tommy does not approve of the onesie

- Connor logs on

- John has a confession: He is actually just Tom. In fact, Detective Dream was also Tom! Tom heard Tubbo say he was going to kill him, so he created John, as he thought that Tubbo wouldn’t be able to kill something so cute. Tubbo says he didn’t mean it

- Connor asks Foolish for help getting back home

- Tom traps Tubbo and Tommy in a box. He does not have Creative mode

- Tommy asks Tom if he is good or evil. Tom says he is good and changes out of the duck onesie

- Tommy asks Tom what he thinks of destroying Karl’s house, and Tom approves as a third party. They watch Tom take down the house

- Connor arrives back home and starts building across from Tommy’s house. They VC him and Connor asks where his house went. Tommy tells him it was for tax purposes

- Tom dies by magic after Tubbo shoots him in midair

- Tommy tells Connor he can’t build on his land. Tom, Connor, Tommy and Tubbo chat about subscriber comments

- Connor starts building his house in front of Tommy’s bench and Tommy doesn’t approve of it blocking his view and destroys it

- Tom asks for food again. The server might be going through a bit of a famine

- Tommy continues filling in the basement and decides to form a Not Funny Club with Tom. They start telling jokes about YouTube

- Tommy gets the idea to do some standup: Minecraft Comedian vs. 3 Hecklers

- Tom gets hungry and takes Tommy’s God Apple to eat, but Tubbo shoots and kills him before can. Tubbo says Tom still has one canon life left though

- They walk down to the theatre stage by the Community House. Tubbo evolves

- Tommy does comedy up on the stage while Connor, Tubbo and Tom heckle from the audience. All of Tommy’s jokes are just pickup lines

- Tommy gets booed off the stage and next up is Tom, who tries but quickly gives up

- Tubbo is up next. He starts reading out information about tax legislation. Tommy starts taking notes

- Then, it’s Connor’s turn. He tries to play off of the audience

- It’s always canonically Tuesday on the Dream SMP

- Connor gives up and Tubbo goes up to keep reading the tax information. Tommy goes up to make it a comedy duo 

- Tubbo starts selling his cryptocurrency known as “Piss and Shit, Screw the Children Coin”

- Tommy leaves to speak with Tom by the Community House. Tom says he’ll be back. Tom looks at the poster

Tom: “Look at this. ‘Bee does science’ ...This is groundbreaking!”

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

AN: This story is being crossposted from my Fanfiction account. I figured I might as well post it up here, there’s not enough black!oc X-Men fanfictions to be honest. If anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this story let me know.

Summary: Claudia Walker created the perfect facade she had a simple life, a simple job. There was nothing remarkable about her. Until two men offer her the chance to do something with her powers to stop a war looming on the horizon. In a fight between good and evil, loyalties strain and relationships grow. The world's changing for better and worse, and Claudia is right in the middle of it.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men just the OCs in the story.

Trigger warnings: none I can think of

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts

The music started up, with the sultry tango beats of "Whatever Lola Wants" by Sarah Vaughn. Her colorful voice lit like a spark in the air, and with it, the seductive lyrics of the song. The air seemed to crackle as I spun away from my dance partner, but a strong hand ripped me back into his grasp. With glittering eyes I pressed myself against him, his hand tenderly slipping over my back. We side-stepped as the singer continued to croon the audience with her hypnotic lyrics.

"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,"

"And silly man, Lola wants you," I sung to the man, who was completely entranced.

He stopped dancing to trace along my curvy figure slowly, extracting a long breath from my lips. He rejoined my hands smoothing his over my fingers. I crossed my left foot seductively in front of the right, while cocking my head mischievously to side. He smiled and placed his right hand dangerously low on my back. Before he could change direction again, I elevated my right foot, kicking it behind me, and situated behind his right leg, coquettishly hooking around his toned calf. I smirked, savoring the attention I was getting from my dance partner and the men who were watching me dance.

The man copied me by kicking his right leg between the middle of my two. He was daring, and he pressed my chest into his.

"I always get what I aim for. And your heart and soul is what I came for,"

The song finished up and I pulled away from him, creating space between us, "You may go now, I've had my fun," I instructed, trailing my index finger up over the man's tie.

He nodded and shuffled off of the dance floor. I made my way off of the dance floor, to order another drink. It was Saturday night, and the nightlife was at its height. I took my seat on the bar stool, signaling for the bartender to pour me another drink. I grabbed my clutch that was hiding underneath the chair and opened it, pulling out a compact mirror.

I looked at my reflection, my eyes were a brilliant almond shape, with dark brown irises that held knowledge and wisdom beyond my years. My lashes were long, dark, and thick. My lips were red with lipstick, but full and perfect. My wide nose curved in a delicate slope and I could clearly see my defined cheekbones. I combed my fingers through my hair making sure that every hair was in place and checking that my makeup hadn't smudged. I snapped my mirror shut and placed back it back into my purse, a sigh escaping me.

I had always known I was different since I was a child. I always felt out of place. I never blamed my parents for that. They loved me and they always did what they thought was the best for me. Well, at least what was good for them I suppose.

It was at the age of eighteen when I left my home, leaving my past in Pennsylvania far behind me. My memories from there were unpleasant, to say the least, and I needed to leave. To start a new life elsewhere, in central New York. Money was never a problem, I had a decent paying job as a psychologist's assistant at a private practice and a well furnished apartment. But I still found myself drinking away my sorrows. At this point in my life, I had to every reason to be happy, but I knew deep down I wasn't. There was always that loneliness, biting at my insides.

Someone cleared their throat next to my ear, something I wasn't all to fond of.

I glanced at them, raising an eyebrow, "Something I can do for you, stranger?" I asked, barely masking my annoyance.

He smiled, and I made a note to admire it. He was pretty handsome it, but he was overly cocky, I could tell by the way he made himself comfortable next to me, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bar, and getting way too into my personal space. Not to mention he was easily in his mid-forties. I had just turned twenty-two

“Fucking creep, I thought.

"Michael, my name is Michael, Mike for short. You can help me by maybe letting me buy you a drink,"

I raised an eyebrow at this, he moved pretty fast. He must do this all the time to women he thought were drunk. Too bad for him, it took me more than a couple of drinks to have lost my common sense. Pushing my shoulder length, curled black hair out of my face. I faced him to reply as two other men approached, I didn't want any trouble, but the audacity of the man made my blood boil.

"And what do you expect in return for this drink?"

He smiled and leaned in closer to me, placing a hand on my thigh.

"The bastard thought he was in, didn't he?" I thought.

"Well, maybe just a friend," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes and smiled lightly at him, leaning in until our lips barely touched.

"With you? I'd rather watch the grass grow," I replied dryly, eying him up and down, as if he was something I'd find on the bottom of my shoe. "My mama didn't raise me to accept drinks from men I barely know, and my daddy taught me how to break a hand in seven different places, so remove it or I'll do it for you, Mike," I punctuated my sentence by grasping his middle finger in my fist and slowly bending it back, until I heard the pop that let me knew I dislocated it. "Next time I'll break it," I threatened.

"You bitch-" He began, but was interrupted mid-word by me.

"Run along, before I make you gouge out your eyes with a butter knife," I commanded boredly, putting effort into making my words go through the older man's head. The man walked away dutifully and I smirked. "There's a good boy," I cooed, turning away from him and took a sip of my vodka martini.

I heard a chuckle of laughter behind me, causing me to turn around again and examine the new arrivals behind me. The two men who I saw previously were now directly behind me, they appeared to be in their early thirties or late twenties. Despite being slightly tipsy, I couldn't help but gape a little when I properly looked at the two men.

The taller of the two had his thick and muscled arms crossing themselves in front of his broad chest. Clad in a short navy trench coat over a pair of long, black pants and a black turtleneck, his perfectly slicked back hair was the ultimate factor that completed the dangerous, rugged look he was probably going for. He looked like a mafia member, or something.

His icy blue eyes were fixed onto my wandering brown eyes unflinchingly, as a dark brow rose to mock me, to tell me that he had seen me appraising his impressive form. I raised my eyebrow and smirked saucily before I turned my gaze away from the taller man and shifted it to the other one, now standing in front of me.

Unlike Mr. Mafia Man and his dark attire, this man was significantly more professional looking. With his sharp pressed grey blazer jacket, a white button up shirt worn inside, the matching dark grey pants and his polished shoes, this guy pretty much screamed 'successful businessman'. He, along with the other man had sharp masculine features – sharp nose, strong, angular jaw line, and the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen. His eyes were so blue they resembled crystals, and were framed by his dark brows. His short, dark hair was tousled casually.

"Your quite clever," the shorter man complimented, with a thick British accent.

"So I've been told, but I've done nothing tonight that would warrant such a compliment," I replied, looking at the man as I lifted my glass to my lips, taking another sip of my martini.

"I think you have, actually. The song, 'Whatever Lola Wants', it fits you," the man remarked.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, although I had an inkling to know where this was going, "How so?" I asked curiously, tilting my head slightly.

"Has anyone told you that you have an excellent mutation?" the shorter man asked abruptly, a small smile on his face.

"Mutation? You call every woman you meet a mutant?" I snorted, widening my eyes and let out a chuckle that matched my expression, disbelief. "Wow! This must be the night, where the worst pick-up lines are thrown at me," I drawled, before taking another sip of my drink. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I am just me. I am normal," I laughed, and the taller man just huffed annoyed.

The shorter man smiled at me, then I noticed that his fingers were pressed onto his temple and he was still looking at me. I frowned at the slight nudge in my head. It didn't hurt, but it was very irritating. I focused on strengthening my shield against the nudges. I felt the nudge grow stronger, it was attacking my shield before it finally gave up and left.

The man looked mildly surprised and my mouth turned into a small frown. I really didn't know why he was surprised. Unless.

Mutant.

I glared angrily at him, "I don't know who the hell you are, but stay out of my head!" I snarled. "You have no right!"

I always thought I was alone, that quickly changed only a couple years ago, but ever since that encounter...well I'm uneasy around other mutants, my own mutation was something I kept to myself, only select people in my family knew about it even.

He put his hands up in surrender, "You're right, my apologies. But how? No one has ever been able to feel me before. Are you a telepath?" he asked, studying me with curiosity shining through his eyes.

"No, I'm just highly aware of myself and those around me," I answered with a slight growl, slamming my glass down on the counter nearly breaking it. "You have your tricks, I have mine," I added, glaring at him.

"My name is Charles Xavier," the man introduced in an irritatingly friendly tone. "And this," he said, gesturing to the other man, "Is Erik Lehnsherr. We're like you. We're different. And we need your help. We are-"

"Is there a private place where we could talk?" Erik interjected hastily in a strong German accent, looking mad and broody, as he looked from one side to the next.

I didn't particularly want to know what, if anything at all, they were to offer. I sat there in silent for a few seconds, first looking at Charles, then at Erik, then back at Charles. If this was a game, it certainly wasn't funny in the least.

"Why should I even try to talk to you two? The first thing Mr. Xavier says to me is that I have a mutation and then he follows that up by trying to intrude my thoughts," I argued. "It has been a long and trying night gentlemen, and I'm over it. So, I'm going to try and scavenge what little fun I can find," I concluded, flashing them a faux smile just as a saxophone moaned through the opening of "I Put a Spell on You" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins.

"What do you know, my favorite song," I added grinning, and shook my head beginning to walk away from the two men, only to be stopped by Erik gripping my arm tightly. I leveled him with an icy stare, "Let go of me right now, or I will make you feel pain that you thought was unimaginable," my voice low and threatening.

"Erik..." Charles called warningly.

Erik loosened his grip, freeing my arm slightly, but he made it clear I wasn't going anywhere, "We know you know exactly what you are, and we know what you're capable of. Stop playing coy with us," Erik stated coldly.

"Two strange white men walk into a bar, approach a black woman and accuses her of being a mutant. Forgive me, but you expect me not to find that a bit suspicious," I sassed, before yanking my arm completely out of his grip. I spotted a booth occupied by two men and I walked towards the two men, I gently grasped their chins and looked them in the eyes. "Due to your undying love for me, you two are going to give up your seats," I demanded, manipulating their desires so they reflected my own wishes.

"Of course," one man said eagerly, sliding out of his seat.

"Your wish is my command," the other man stated, getting out of his seat as well.

"Hmm, I know," I smiled, lightly laughing. "Now leave me be," I commanded, shooing them away and the two men nodded their heads and kissed the back of my hands before their departure.

I looked over to Erik and Charles, to see Erik roll his eyes in annoyance and huff before he whispered something to Charles, whose expression was unreadable. Charles and Erik sat in the seat across from me, Erik sat a stiff as a board while Charles seemed relaxed.

I interlocked my fingers together, "Ah, now that is how a gentlemen should behave. I think you should learn from them, Mr. Lehnsherr," I suggested my lips curving into a smirk.

Erik scowled at me, "You never told us your name," he remarked irritated.

"You never asked, Mr. Lehnsherr. Maybe if Mr. Xavier, greeted me properly, you would know," I countered, looking between the two men. "Although, something tells me that you two already know," I added, arching my brow and leaning forward.

"Miss...Claudia Walker, am I right?" Charles asked.

I quickly glanced at Erik and it seemed like he had one eye concentrated on me whilst the other was focused at the crowd in the club.

I focused back on Charles, "You would be correct," I replied, lapsing back into an easy lean. "How exactly did you two find me?" I asked curiously.

"Well, I was in Cerebro-" Charles began.

"Cerebro?" I interjected, scrunching my eyebrows together in confusion.

"It's a machine that helps me locate people like us," Charles explained, he was way too excited to answer my question. He was almost bubbling with excitement. "I was surprised to find you. Your signature was so strong, powerful, which intrigued me. I quickly got your coordinates and here we are," Charles finished happily.

"You certainly didn't make it easy," Erik mentioned, in a slight annoyed tone.

"Hardly, you two are here now aren't you?" I questioned, my tone was playful and I could tell that it was grating Erik's nerves.

"Really? So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me yesterday?" he questioned, as he leaned forward slightly.

"Depends on what you saw," I quipped, a small smile beginning to show.

"I saw you start that brawl. The way your hand curled and your eyes narrowed, you made that skinny man kick the fat, bald one in his groin," Erik remarked, his own mouth curving as he smirked. "You nearly got us entangled in that predicament," he added, looking at me with his piercing eyes.

Not looking away I smiled dangerously, "Yeah that was me," I admitted with a shrug. "I had an inkling that was someone was following me yesterday, I just didn't know it was you two. Whoops," I commented, my voice dripping with sarcasm and shrugged my shoulders again.

"Well, speaking of powers, you know my power. And we would very much like to know all about yours, Miss Walker," Charles started.

"Please, call me Claudia," I started. "I'll demonstrate my powers, but Mr. Grumpy over there has to show me his first," I proposed, flicking my chin out, motioning towards Erik.

Erik's eyes met were now fully focused on me again and I returned his stare.

Charles smiled and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, "Erik has the ability to manipulate metal,"

I narrowed my eyes at Erik and he glared at me in return. He would be very powerful, even with the tiniest bit of metal he would be able to kill someone with the flick of his hand.

"What's that old phrase again?" I asked aloud, tilting my head up as if I was pondering the question. "Oh, that's right. Seeing is believing," I finished, looking back at Erik, raising my eyebrow in challenge.

Erik raised his eyebrows as well, before focusing his eyes on the cutlery in front of him. Nothing happened for a while before they started shaking and eventually they lifted off the table. My eyebrows raised as I stared at the floating knives and forks.

"Do you believe now?" Erik asked, and I could see a ghost of a smirk.

"Well, I'll be damned," I gasped smirking, as I watched the utensils gracefully land back on the table.

"There you go," Erik said. "We showed you ours, now show us yours,"

I sat up in my seat and reached a hand across the table and turned it palm up, "Mr. Xavier, would you be so kind to give me your hand?" I asked.

"Call me Charles, please," Charles replied, sliding his own hand into mine without a moment's hesitation, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik grimace.

"You’re too trusting by half, Charles," Erik commented, shaking his head.

I closed my fingers gently around Charles', and slowly a broad, blissful smile stretched across his face as I channeled sensations of contentment into him.

"An empath," he breathed. "My, that's...mmm, that's lovely," Charles laughed, I smirked as I slid my hand back across the table, and Charles took a moment to compose himself.

"Want to see something else?" I asked grinning.

"Yes, please!" Charles exclaimed, grinning back excitedly.

I focused my gaze on one of the knives on table, and narrowed my eyes in concentration. A purple aura surrounded the knife as it raised itself off of the table and floated in mid-air and I maneuvered it to have the blade facing Erik as Charles watched, fascinated at the display I was putting on.

"Remarkable," Charles breathed.

"You’re telekinetic," Erik stated boredly, snatching the knife out of the air by the handle.

"I am," I replied, looking at Erik. "Now, you two are going to tell me why I've been performing tricks like I'm in some circus show," I demanded, glancing between the two men in front of me.

Charles laughed, "You have amazing gifts, a mutation, an ability. Erik and I are recruiting people to help us and in the process you get to learn how to control your powers,"

"Recruiting?" I asked confused, looking at them suspiciously. "For what?"

"That is what we're here to talk to you about," Charles said, sensing the sudden guarded tone in my voice. His eyes held mine in an intense stare. "A war is upon us, Claudia,"

"Yes, I know. The one between the Soviets and America, everyone knows that," I stated, now leaning back into my seat. My mind was reeling at where the conversation was going. Charles nodded firmly. "But what has that got to do with mutants? Or me, more specifically?"

"One of the agents at the CIA discovered a plot, the spark that lit the fire for the nuclear war," This time, it was Erik that had spoken. His soft yet gruff voice flooded into my ears with its tough resonance. "She had gone undercover to see one of the American Colonel's getting pressured into installing missiles into Turkey. That was the first step to angering the Soviets, and they are planning to retaliate. From what she had described, it had been a mutant who was threatening the Colonel,"

"A mutant?" I questioned. "But why?"

"We have no idea as of yet," Charles offered, leaning back into his seat as well.

It was obvious to me that Charles was troubled by the fact that a fellow mutant would want to start a war between two powerful nations.

"Well, do you know who the mastermind is behind all of this?" I asked again, raising an eyebrow.

"Sebastian Shaw," Erik spat, the venom clear in his words. A frown was etched deep into his forehead and his eyes were glaring at the coffee table, as though willing it to break under the hatred burning in his cold blue orbs.

By the way I could sense the hatred coming from Erik's emotions, he was an enemy. A big one.

"So that's why you're recruiting people? Like me?" I asked.

"We're planning to stop Shaw before he could escalate this conflict any further. He has got his own army of mutants to help him," Charles replied. "We need ours," Charles finished.

I ran my hand down my face, closing my eyes and breathed out deeply. This was not how I planned my night going, these two men walk up to me, telling me how they are like me and need my help to prevent World War III. This was a lot for me to take in, in such a short period of time. I mentally made two lists, negative and positive. Positive points: Learn to hone my powers, meet other people like me and this was probably the only chance for me to fit in and have something. Negative points: This could be a trap and if it wasn't a trap my powers could probably kill someone else.

"Give this a chance," Charles' voice urged gently, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I opened my eyes and staring at the two men, Charles and Erik staring back at me. Charles looked at me patiently and Erik looked like as though he had just proven something to Charles.

I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and took a deep breath, "While this sounds very dire and adventurous, I can't," I answered shaking my head. "Why should I come? I have a perfectly good life right now, with a decent paying job. I don't want to be involved in any war,"

"What?" Erik started, raising an eyebrow. "You don't just charm your way out of everything?" Erik asked mockingly.

I looked at Erik pointedly and glared, "No, actually. Having everything handed to you, makes life quite boring," I retorted.

"We've already spoken to your boss about it," Charles chimed in. "He's willing to grant you an indefinite period of leave from work. Or at least until the whole thing is over," he explained.

"He agreed?" I balked, thinking back to the measly, overweight doctor who had many a times refused to grant me my annual break, unless I used my powers on him.

Charles smiled, "The words 'government' and 'CIA' can be very convincing in situations such as these,"

"He must think me to be some criminal or spy now," I muttered more to myself, before scowling up at the two when I realized what they had done. "You guys move fast. What if I didn't want to join your little team?"

"You'll get your job back," Charles shrugged his shoulders. "Your boss wouldn't even remember meeting anyone by the names of Charles Xavier or Erik Lehnsherr," He tapped his fingers against his temple with a proud smile.

"How convenient, but even if I agree to join you, my life will never be the same. I will be ostracized even more than I already am," I reasoned.

"You don't think the public will accept you?" Charles questioned.

"Charles, please tell me that you’re not this naive?" I asked back. "I don't know how you folks do it across the sea. But Charles, look at me, I am a black woman in America, I'm barely accepted now and I live in the northern part of America. Why would they accept me? Black people are being murdered for the color of their skin since this country was founded. People in the past have been killed for being different. Just look what happened with the Jews and Hitler," I pointed out.

I could feel Erik's mind radiating with anger. I frowned and when I looked up and saw Erik's face. He looked like he stuck in between an inner battle with himself.

"I think humans will accept us sooner or later," Charles stated optimistically.

"Perhaps, that remains to be seen. They don't even accept humans with a different skin color," I countered. Momentarily, a silence fell over us before I spoke up and broke it. "Just to be clear, this isn't some sort of a trap? You two aren't trying to experiment on me?" I asked in a serious tone. "And the CIA and African-Americans do not have the best history, so promise me that they won't try to assassinate me and label me as some black radical," I added.

Charles looked slightly amused, but shook his head, "No, we won't hurt you and the CIA won't hurt you, I promise," Charles reassured, and I nodded then stood up.

I was probably going to regret this.

"I'll...help you guys," I began.

"Thank you, Claudia," Charles interjected gently.

"But, let's be clear that doesn't mean I trust you. We've only just met," I explained, glancing at the two of them.

"Completely understandable, Claudia," Charles replied, nodding his head.

"One more condition, if you want my help," I stated, and Erik scoffed and I glared at him.

"This should be interesting," Erik drawled.

I looked back at Charles, "You have to promise me, if I occasionally let my mental shield down, you will not look inside my mind," I demanded.

Charles looked quite stunned, "Of course. But can I ask, how can you block me out? You're not a telepath,"

My gaze hardened again, "I once knew someone who was,"

Chapter Two: Division X

[marginalgloss]

I turn 35 tomorrow. How better to celebrate that than with some notes on the handful of video games I have managed to finish over the last ten months. In no particular order:

Judgment (PS4)

Something I think about often is that there aren’t many games which are set in the real world. By this I man the world in which we live today. You can travel through ancient Egypt or take a trip through the stars in the far future, but it’s relatively rare to be shown a glimpse of something familiar. Hence the unexpected popularity of the new release of Microsoft Flight Simulator, which lets you fly over a virtual representation of your front porch, as well as the Grand Canyon, and so on.

I found something like the same appeal in Judgment, a game which took me longer than anything else listed here to finish — seven or eight months, on and off. Like the Yakuza games to which it is a cousin, it’s set in Kamurocho, a fictional district of a real-world Tokyo; unlike other open-world games, it renders a space of perhaps half a square mile in intense detail. I spent a long time in this game wandering around slowly in first-person view, looking at menus and in the windows of shops and restaurants. The attention to detail is unlike everything I have ever seen, from the style of an air conditioning unit to the range of Japanese whiskies on sale in a cosy backstreet bar. And this was a thing of value at a time when the thought of going anywhere else at all, let alone abroad, seemed like it was going to be very difficult for a very long time.

It’s a game of at least three discrete parts. One of them is a fairly cold-blooded police procedural/buddy cop story: you play an ex-lawyer turned private eye investigating a series of grisly murders that, inevitably, link back to your own murky past. In another part you run around the town getting into hilarious martial arts escapades, battering lowlifes with bicycles and street furniture. In another, you can while away your hours playing meticulous mini-games that include darts, baseball, poker, Mahjong and Shogi — and that’s before we even get to the video game arcades.

All these parts are really quite fun, and if you want to focus on one to the exclusion of the others, the game is totally fine with that. The sudden tonal shifts brought about by these crazy and abrupt shifts in format are, I think, essentially unique to video games. But the scope of Judgment is a thing all its own. As a crafted spectacle of escapist fiction it’s comprehensive, and in its own way utterly definitive.  

Mafia: Definitive Edition (PS4)

I was amazed when I found out they were doing a complete remake of Mafia, a game I must have finished at least three or four times in the years after its release back in 2002. Games from this era don’t often receive the same treatment as something like Resident Evil, where players might be distracted by the controls and low-poly graphics of the original. 

A quality remake makes it easier for all kinds of reasons to appreciate what was going on there. (Not least because they have a lot of new games in the same series to sell.) But in the early 00s PC games like this one had started to get really big and ambitious, and had (mostly) fixed issues with controls; so there’s a hell of a lot more stuff going on in Mafia than in most games of that era. It was also a very hard game, with all kinds of eccentricities that most big titles don’t attempt today. Really I have no idea how this remake got made at all. 

But I was so fond of the original I had to play it. The obvious: it looks fantastic, and the orchestral soundtrack is warm and evocative. The story is basic, but for the era it seemed epic, and it’s still an entertaining spectacle. The original game got the balance of cinematic cutscenes, driving and action right the first time, even while Rockstar were still struggling to break out of the pastiche-led GTA III and Vice City. 

They have made it easier. You’re still reliant on a handful of medical boxes in each level for healing, but you get a small amount of regenerating health as well. You no longer have to struggle to keep your AI companions alive. Most of the cars are still heavy and sluggish, but I feel like they’re not quite as slow as they once were. They’ve changed some missions, and made some systems a little more comfortable — with sneaking and combat indicators and so on — but there aren’t any really significant additions.

The end result of all this is that it plays less like an awkward 3D game from 2002, and more like a standard third-person shooter from the PS3/360 era. Next to virtually any other game in a similar genre from today, it feels a bit lacking. There’s no skill tree, no XP, no levelling-up, no crafting, no side-missions, no unusual weapons or equipment, no alternative routes through the game. And often all of that stuff is tedious to the extreme in new titles, but here, you really feel the absence of anything noteworthy in the way of systems. 

My options might have been more limited in 2002 but back then the shooting and driving felt unique and fun enough that I could spend endless hours just romping around in Free Ride mode. Here, it felt flat by comparison; it felt not much different to Mafia III, which I couldn’t finish because of how baggy it felt and how poorly it played, in spite of it having one of the most interesting settings of any game in recent years. But games have come a long way in twenty years.    

Hypnospace Outlaw (Nintendo Switch)

If this game is basically a single joke worked until it almost snaps then it is worked extremely well. 

It seems to set itself up for an obvious riff on the way in which elements of the web which used to be considered obnoxious malware (intrusive popups and so on) have since become commonplace, and sometimes indispensable, parts of the online browsing experience. But it doesn’t really do that, and I think that’s because it’s a game which ends up becoming a little too fascinated by its own lore. 

The extra science fiction patina over everything is that technically this isn’t the internet but a sort of psychic metaverse delivered over via a mid-90s technology involving a direct-to-brain headset link. I don’t know that this adds very much to the game, since the early days of the internet were strange enough without actually threatening to melt the brains of its users. 

(This goes back to what I said about Judgment - I sometimes wonder if it feels easier to make a game within a complete fiction like this, rather than simply placing it in the context of the nascent internet as it really was. Because this way you don’t have to worry too much about authenticity or realism; this way the game can be as outlandish as it needs to be.) 

But, you know. It’s a fun conceit. A clever little world to romp around in for a while. 

Horace (Nintendo Switch)

I don’t know quite where to begin with describing this. One of the oddest, most idiosyncratic games I’ve played in recent years. 

As I understand it this platformer is basically the creation of two people, and took about six years to make. You start out thinking this is going to be a relatively straightforward retro run-and-jump game — and for a while, it is — but then the cutscenes start coming. And they keep coming. You do a lot of watching relative to playing in this game, but it’s forgivable because they are deeply, endearingly odd. 

It’s probably one of the most British games I’ve ever played in terms of the density and quality of its cultural references. And that goes for playing as well as watching; there’s a dream sequence which plays out like Space Harrier and driving sequences that play out like Outrun. There are references to everything from 2001 to the My Dinner with Abed episode of Community. And it never leans into any of it with a ‘remember that?’ knowing nod — it’s all just happening in the background, littered like so much cultural detritus. 

A lot of it feels like something that’s laser-targeted to appeal to a certain kind of gamer in their mid-40s. And, not being quite there myself, a lot of it passed me by. Horace is not especially interested in a mass appeal — it’s not interested in explaining itself, and it doesn’t care if you don’t like the sudden shifts in tone between heartfelt sincerity and straight-faced silliness. But as a work of singular creativity and ambition it’s simply a joyous riot. 

Horizon: Zero Dawn (PS4)

I stopped playing this after perhaps twelve or fifteen hours. There is a lot to like about it; it still looks stunning on the PS4 Pro; Aloy is endearing; the world is beautiful to plod around. But other parts of it seem downright quaint. It isn’t really sure whether it should be a RPG or an action game. And I’m surprised I’ve never heard anyone else mention the game’s peculiar dedication to maintaining a shot/reverse shot style throughout dialogue sequences, which is never more than tedious and stagey.

The combat isn’t particularly fun. Once discovered most enemies simply become enraged and blunder towards you, in some way or another; your job is to evade them, ensnare them or otherwise trip them up, then either pummel them into submission or chip away at their armour till they become weak enough to fall. I know enemy AI hasn’t come on in leaps and bounds in recent years but it’s not enough to dress up your enemies as robot dinosaurs and then expect a player to feel impressed when they feel like the simplest kind of enrageable automata. Oh, and then you have to fight human enemies too, which feels like either an admission of failure or an insistence that a game of this scale couldn’t happen without including some level of human murder. 

I don’t have a great deal more to say about it. It’s interesting to me that Death Stranding, which was built on the same Decima engine, kept the frantic and haphazard combat style from Horizon, but went to great lengths to actively discourage players from getting into fights at all. (It also fixed the other big flaw in Horizon — the flat, inflexible traversal system — and turned that into the centrepiece of the game.) 

Disco Elysium (PS4)

In 2019 I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons. I’m talking about the actual tabletop roleplaying game, not any kind of video game equivalent. For week after week a group of us from work got together and sort of figured it out, and eventually developed not one but two sprawling campaigns of the never-ending sort. We continued for a while throughout the 2020 lockdown, holding our sessions online via Roll20, but it was never quite the same. After a while, as our life circumstances changed further, it sort of just petered out.

I mention all this because Disco Elysium is quite clearly based around the concept of a computerised tabletop roleplaying game (aka CRPG). My experience of that genre is limited to the likes of Baldurs Gate, the first Pillars of Eternity and the old Fallout games, so I was expecting to have to contend with combat and inventory management. What I wasn’t expecting was to be confronted with the best novel I’ve read this year.

To clarify: I have not read many other novels this year, by my standards. But, declarations of relative quality aside, what I really mean is that this game is, clearly and self-consciously, a literary artefact above all. It is written in the style of one of those monolithic nineteenth century novels that cuts a tranche through a society, a whole world — you could show it to any novelist from at least the past hundred years and they would understand pretty well what is going on. It is also wordy in every sense of that term: there’s a lot of reading to do, and the text is prolix in the extreme. 

You could argue it’s less a game than a very large and fairly sophisticated piece of interactive fiction. The most game-like aspects of it are not especially interesting. It has some of the stats and the dice-rolling from table-top roleplaying games, but this doesn’t sit comfortably with the overtly literary style elsewhere. Health and morale points mostly become meaningless when you can instantly heal at any time and easily stockpile the equivalent of health potions. And late on in the game, when you find yourself frantically changing clothes in order to increase your chances of passing some tricky dice roll, the systems behind the game start to feel somewhat disposable. 

Disco Elysium is, I think, a game that is basically indifferent to its own status as a game. Nothing about it exists to complement its technological limitations, and nor is it especially interested in the type of unique possibilities that are only available in games. You couldn’t experience Quake or Civilisation or the latest FIFA in any other format; but a version of Disco Elysium could have existed on more or less any home computer in about the last thirty years. And, if we were to lose the elegant art and beautiful score, and add an incredibly capable human DM, it could certainly be played out as an old-fashioned tabletop game not a million miles from Dungeons and Dragons.

All of the above is one of the overriding thoughts I have about this game. But it doesn’t come close to explaining what it is that makes Disco Elysium great.

[indigoire]

TMA characters I love beyond reproach, can do no wrong in my eyes, even if they're a little evil and or dead:

Gerard Keay. Best goth boy, emo of my heart, should probably touch up his roots in the afterlife. Was doing his best before he got got by The End. Nothing but respect for Our Gerry.

Michael Shelley/Distortion: is Michael an avatar of a Fear Entity? Yes. Did Michael originally start as the sweetest kid ever? Also yes. Does Michael's laugh make me happy? Extremely yes. Toss this in with a dash of helpfulness and I am very very fond of this genderless being.

Melanie King. Plays by no man's rules! Smart bitch who knows how to get shit done! Tried to stab Elias because she's an icon. Has made everyone in the archives cry at least once, and yes, that probably also includes Elias. Is a wlw, though I haven't quite reached this point in the podcast yet. Got shot by a ghost because she's the most interesting woman in the world. Melanie King I care you.

Basira Hussain. The only cop I trust (thank god she quit early on tho). Her deadpan voice is amazing. Also a fan of getting shit done. Lives my dream of getting a job and spending the whole time at said job reading and gossipping.

Georgie Barker. NO FEAR! Owns an adorable cat. Actually believes in being friends with her exes and I respect her for it. Has my second choice dream job about talking about ghosts and paranormal things from the comfort of my home studio. Also apparently a wlw, hell yes.

Martin Blackwood. I ADORE this fussy, worried, anxious, clumsy, sensitive, STRONG man. He WILL outlive us all, he WILL be strong but soft at the same time, and he WILL use the power of love to save us all. Maybe the real treasure was the love and respect for Martin we found along the way.

Jonathan Sims. Listen. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that snarky British assholes aren't my bread and butter. I know he falls into "no one can like the protagonist" syndrome, but I think Jon is pretty fucking great. He's also kind of monstrous, and I love monsters. Needs way more respect than he gets. He's done dumb things but he also doesn't sleep, and I know firsthand how that fucks with your head, so really we should be happy he even remembers names from prior statements. Really wish he'd try some self care too.

Special mention goes to Tim Stoker, who apparently goes out with a bang. Taken from us before he could reach full snark. Told Elias he'd see him in hell. RIP bi-con, keep thotting it up in heaven king, etc., etc.

[sabineelectricheart]

Rain Over The Mediterranean

Summary: Cardia and Saint-Germain considers the synonymy between them and the sea.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2800

Notes: I mean... I suppose... Well, here it is. Hope you like it.

The first, fat raindrop landed on Saint-Germain’s nose, running along the curve of his nostril before it lost momentum on his upper lip. The second splashed against Cardia’s ear, the cold startling needles beneath her skin.

By the third drop, Saint-Germain had taken her hand to guide her dextrously back to the excessive, replicant mansion by the beach near Marseille that had been their home since the previous afternoon.

The seemingly newlywed couple was in sights of their lodgings, and so the sudden rain was not much of a concern, but it was such a shame cut their walk short. The sweet smells of the lavender plantation nearby, carried by the cooler wind from the continent and easing the dry heat of the summer morning. The soft sunlight reflected on the shore estates and the ruins down the beach.

Saint-Germain looks over to the Mediterranean. Some few miles away from the beach, it was as sunny as ever, while over them hung a grey, stormy cloud, ready to release its contents over their heads. A shame, indeed, but it might be sunny again in a couple of hours.

The young woman paused for just a moment, casting a final look toward the brilliant orange of the morning sun. It was rare for it to rain in the Mediterranean Summer, but she pinned that up to a good omen. Ancient men, like her husband, usually interpreted rain as a gift from up above, and she liked that thought.

As the brunette watched, the surface of the seawater became speckled with rain, the agitation beneath suggesting that more was brewing than a simple morning shower. She turned away to follow Saint-Germain, wondering if these were the sights that had earned her husband’s love for the sea.

Their pace quickened as the skies continued to pour forth with increasing vigour. Her thin slippers, tugged back on in haste, did little to aid her in gaining traction through the loose sand beyond the shoreline. Cardia lurched forward; the shadows of the jacket Saint-Germain held over her head blocking her view of uneven path. His arm was at her side in a moment to catch her.

“I’m well, Saint-Germain.” She promised, giggling at the foolish image they would have made had anyone else been at the seaside to observe them.

“We’re nearly there.” He encouraged as they came within sight of their temporary abode.

He flung open the door and ushered her in, stopping to flick the excess water from his jacket onto the ground outside. When he had finished, he stepped back, latching the door and casting his eye around the darkening mansion.

“It looks as though we may be stuck inside for a while, unfortunately.” Cardia surmised as she brushed the wet curls from her eyes. “But I cannot fault the company.”

“Nor I.” The affection in his voice produced a shiver that had nothing to do with the inclement weather.

The dampness of her clothes finally settling against her skin, Cardia drew close to the fire Saint-Germain was stoking back from embers.

“We should dry much faster if we change out of our wet things.” He advised with a quick glance back at her. “I would not want you to become sick in our little escapade.”

She nodded at the welcome suggestion, fingers already working at the ties of her dress. Still, she watched him as he worked the coals, divided focus slowing movements that should have come easily.

He added a log to the fire, the flames crackling greedily to consume the new wood. In the glow, his eyes gleamed emerald as she stepped nearer. Three years of marriage, and her heart still raced every time she saw the way he looked at her when they were alone together. She hoped it always would.

Saint-Germain joined her in standing, his posture straight and still as he allowed her to assist in his process of undressing. Cardia’s deft fingers made short work of his shirt, tugging out the layers of fabric that had been tucked down the front of his trousers.

“You’re soaked through.” She noted quietly, wondering how many times he had been similarly drenched without a place of retreat.

How many times had he gone without someone to care for him? I will see that he lacks for nothing, she promised as her hand lingered over the well-known scars on his chest.

He covered her fingers with a large hand, dragging them gently from the puckered skin at his side. His lips skimmed the knuckles with the lightest of kisses before he returned the hand and directed his attention to the fastenings at her shoulders.

She watched his face as he worked, feeling his efforts come to fruition in the loosening neckline. Idly, she wondered whether there was anything which his hands were not skilled in doing. If there were, she had yet to discover it.

Moments later, he eased the shift over her head, leaving her bare before him.

“You are beautiful, my Cardia.” He breathed out.

With a tender smile, he extended a hand to cup her cheek. Cardia stood on her toes, offering her mouth for a kiss.

His lips tasted of wind and rain, wakening a heat deep within her that even the cool of autumn could not steal away. It was only with some effort that she pulled back to gather their clothes from the floor. While she arranged their wet things by the fireplace, Saint-Germain stepped into a dry set of trousers.

“Perhaps…” She began, wicked thoughts running through her mind while catching his movement in the corner of her eye. “Perhaps we should wait for these to dry. There is little reason for us to dress fully now. No one is here to see us, and it will be some time before we are able to return outside.”

He laid aside the shirt, but his fingers still worked to fasten the buttons of his pants. “I would not object to that.”

Task complete, Cardia crossed the room, winding her arms around her husband’s waist and pressing her cheek to his bare skin. Even out of the wet clothes, she was far from warm. A faint shiver crossed her shoulders as Saint-Germain’s arms circled them.

“You may doubt my words, repetitive as they certainly are, but tea is very good for warming up on such mornings.” He suggested, stepping aside to pull a quilt from the bed.

Returning to her, he wrapped the blanket around her petite frame.

“Indeed, it is.” She agreed, clutching at the fabric. “But I am not in the mood for tea. I suppose I would rather to keep you warm myself, instead.”

The blond man chuckled. “I would not object to that either.”

Her lips pursed slightly at the quiver of humour in his tone.

While he began boiling water, Cardia took stock of the supplies they had brought with them from his London estate. Impey and Lupin had done them a great favour, not only preparing days’ worth of food in advance, but including all of the things they might need to cook for themselves as well.

She thought that Victor, too, might have had something to do with the state of the provisions, especially when she located a little pot of the honey that they both favoured, which had fallen to the bottom of one basket. She ought to remember to thank him upon their return to London.

Setting it aside, she replaced the contents of the basket, a task that took much longer with one hand occupied in holding up her blanket. When she had finished, she sat and watched her husband’s capable form over the fire. Even as they had adjusted to the roles of their new life, moments like these reminded her just how quickly the familiar had become foreign.

“Is this what you imagined when you wished for a vacation by the sea?” She inquired softly, pulling the corners of the quilt into a knot at her breast.

He turned from the fire momentarily in order to address the question. “You already know that life with you is much more than I ever could imagine, Cardia.”

“That does not quite answer my question.” She protested, falling quiet for some moments before she attempted it again. “Do you never wish for a simpler life? A human life, with a human woman, with little business with Salvation or the British government or the European Concert?”

Saint-Germain withdrew the boiling pot and set it beside the fire to steep. Contemplative, he rocked back onto his heels.

“Cardia, when I was a human, my life was painful, miserable and short. When I met Trismegistus, when I was allowed to want for the first time, I wished for an ordinary happiness. Our life may be far from what I classify as ordinary, but I would do nothing to change our fortunes, because ordinary or otherwise, I am deliriously happy.” He urged with a thin smile. “Especially when we may rely on our friends to help arrange for such disappearances as this one. With them to assist us, I doubt that this will be the last time we escape to the sea together.”

Her legs scratched against each other as she pulled them up under the chair.

"I hope that it is not. Though I’m not sure I expected this particular excursion to be quite so dirty.” She observed, rubbing the salt and sand that had dried on her calves.

"Was it not worthwhile to walk barefoot through the waves?” Saint-Germain poured her a measure of tea and sat across the table.

She thanked him and took a small sip, mulling over the question he had posed. “It was worth seeing the sea at your side.”

He watched closely to gauge her response. “You do not like it on its own?”

She shrugged. “I’m not certain what I think of it. At the moment, I find it rather frightening, and there’s rather more sand than I imagined. I’m afraid I’ll be finding it in my shoes for months to come, and that part of life by the sea does not seem very appealing.”

He laughed gently at her complaint, green eyes shimmering with his amusement. “I am not fond of it either, but it is a necessary evil to enjoy the ocean.”

"Then tell me what it is like to be at sea.” She suddenly demands. “What is it about the water that you love?”

Even beyond the sand, her own first impression had been less favourable. She could smile as the foamy waves lapped her feet, but the thought of being stranded in the midst of the wide ocean made her shudder. It was too large, too uncertain for her to understand his great affection for it.

He chuckled once more. “That would be a very long story indeed.”

Thunder boomed, a tremor reverberating throughout the small mansion.

“This seems a good morning for long stories, dear. We won’t be anywhere until lunchtime.” Cardia tightened her hold on the fine porcelain cup and took a draught of the liquid.

“Very well.” The aristocrat concurs.

“But if I am to keep you warm, then I must join you for the telling.” She stood, barely catching the edge of the quilt before it slipped from one shoulder.

A smile flittered across his face at her brief struggle.

“I do not think this chair is large enough for both of us.” His eyes darted from her to the opposite wall. “Perhaps we should sit before the fire, where we may both be warm.”

Tea in one hand, Cardia rose to the balls of her feet and pivoted toward the place he had indicated. Her tiny steps beckoned him to follow, but he outpaced her easily. Once there, he sat a distance from the flames, legs outstretched so that she was able to easily climb into his lap.

She untied the blanket and spread it around both pairs of shoulders. Saint-Germain’s hands held her secure, arms encircling her slender waist once everything had been properly situated. She sighed with contentment as her bare skin settled against his broad chest.

“This is very pleasant.” Cardia mused, slipping one arm outside of the alcove to retrieve her tea.

The blond nods. “It is, perhaps, too pleasant. If we sit like this for very long, I may be in danger of forgetting the sea altogether.”

With a titter, Cardia slipped from his lap to the floor. “I’ll return once you’ve finished your story.”

Saint-Germain leaned down to kiss her crown, one arm stretching behind to draw her close. Heads together, he began to speak.

For nearly an hour, he told her of the great empty expanse; of the freedom of movement to anywhere in the known world; of the moonlit nights with calm, open seas; of the ceaseless rocking that enticed sleep such as no other force could bring; of the bliss of seeing land at long last after a hard voyage. Countless descriptions and tales that Cardia endeavoured to commit to memory.

She listened intently as he spoke, and while her own feelings toward the sea remained unchanged, she thought, perhaps, that she could understand his better.

By the time his words had reached their end, the roaring fire had dwindled and they had long since given up their seated positions in order to lie beside one another atop the quilt.

"Has your curiosity been satisfied?” He asked finally, voice low against the patter of rain above them. “Or is there anything else you wish to know?”

She considered the sum total of all she knew, both from his words and from her own observations. “Just this. The sea that I have observed is nothing like what your stories describe. Even between this morning and yesterday evening, it is completely altered. What is there to love about something that is so full of changes? How can there be any comfort in returning to something that is never the same?”

"Aye.” He agreed readily. “It changes often. But I think I love it more because of the changes.” His gaze dropped to the blanket beneath them as he wove his thoughts together.

Cardia gave him room to think, lazily combing through the white silk of his hair that were still damp from their previous drenching. When his eyes returned to her face, she was startled to see the depth of emotion held within.

“It is rather like the way I love you, though my love for you is much greater.” Saint-Germain swallowed, the lines in his face softening as he continued. “Cardia, you have altered a great deal since you first arrived at London. Few would recognize in you now the same unfeeling, detached doll that Lupin brought back from somewhere in Wales. Yet, I love you for many of the same reasons that I loved you then. In the months that have passed, I have seen blossom many sides of you, but there is not a single one I do not love.”

Saint-Germain looked on her meaningfully, and she felt the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. Throat thickening, Cardia rolled onto an elbow to get a better look at him. He gazed back with honesty and adoration, and she wondered what on earth she could have done to deserve such complete devotion from so generous a man.

"My love for you is constant, Saint-Germain.” She breathed, brushing her fingers along the length of his strong jaw, “even through the changes.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, the thick muscles rippling under her touch. “And it is the deepest love that I have ever known.” She traced a line of kisses to his neck, pausing at the nape tenderly.

When she pulled away, he turned to his side and drew her into his arms. She melted against him readily, every vein alight with desire to show him her promises were true.

He searched her face, though her features could hardly be discerned in the dim light. “You are the greatest change to my life, my Cardia, but the greatest constant too. I would not trade this life with you for all of the dreams and stories my mind has ever devised. I have the sun itself. How could I desire more?”

The fire before them had faded to embers, yet the flames within Cardia burned bright as she met his lips in a passionate kiss.

A shock of thunder rumbled, and rain beat heavily against the panes of the small window. But neither thought of the weather, or even the sea that lay outside. They did not even ponder the future changes which waited for them beyond the mansion walls. Instead, they found joy in one thing they knew would never waver.

*_*_*_*_*

Code: Realize Masterlist

[loudest-subtext-in-tv]

A Study in Fate teaser

Here’s the first 2200 words of a novel-length fanfic that I’ll finish sometime this year. It’s a WiP on an atypical schedule: At a later date I’ll release the rest of the first chapter, but then I’ll release everything else all at once.

Some authors don’t like if you hassle them to hurry up, but I may find it motivating. I’m going to attempt to get better at answering my asks/comments so feel free to ask me things about this fic, but keep in mind there’s a lot of things I won’t answer. Please be aware that no one cares if you don’t like first person perspective.

Though a big aspect of this story is about how to manage depression, it starts in a relatively dark place and weaves in and out of it. If you can’t handle unresolved distant thoughts of suicide right now, maybe wait until the entire story is posted.

Finally, I am doing okay financially right now, but two of my fandom friends are not. If you’ve ever wanted to give me money, I now have a Patreon. Anything you give me will help me help them.

Description: After the events of The Empty Hearse, Sherlock struggles to figure out who he is now that John no longer seems willing to play a prominent role in his life. As his mind runs in circles trying to parse their relationship and determine who threw John in the bonfire, his world is shattered by an enigmatic visitor: himself, bearing bad news from the future.

Series 3 time travel remix; series 4 compatible.

Tags and warnings: first person present, agonizing slow burn, explicit but romantic, depression, suicidal ideation, NOT FLUFF, self-actualization

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Chapter One - The Curtain Rises

One can’t get far without an organizing principle. Every man needs one drive to which all others are subordinate, a touchstone that seizes him with purpose.

I had one once.

Now I have chips.

Dreadful organizing principle, chips: once you’ve got them, there’s nothing propelling you forward anymore. Have enough of them and you hardly want to move at all. God. I was in the best shape of my life, body and mind, and now I’m turning into Mycroft.

Except Mycroft has already transcended these struggles — or so he claims. Yet again, I’m lagging behind on a path I never wanted to follow. Splendid.

Any moment Mrs Hudson will come out and start chattering away about you. That will set me back the rest of the day, yet I won’t ascend the stairs. Does no part of my mind demand control of my brain stem? I’m meant to be some kind of genius: Any visionary corner of my psyche eager to make something of me? No takers?

No. Life is now nothing more but the wandering of here to there. And thoughts like that are why everyone thinks I’m a baby, so for god’s sake stop.

I am all too stopped.

Depression is a dowsing rod: shows you where to dig. So: Why do I halt here, at the bottom of the stairs? Why can’t I face the only place I’ve ever belonged?

It’s not merely that you don’t live here anymore. Not quite. That would be too easy.

Where are you wandering now, John? You got off work an hour ago. No one's called to alert me you've been kidnapped, so there's one thing I didn't miss today.

Still figuring that out, darling. Off my game. Maybe was never on it. Against my better judgment I let romance rot my mind, and you're the one who's suffered most. But I've recovered from less noble chemical weaknesses than your company. Against all odds I still draw breath. If I make myself do nothing else, I will turn this around. I'll prove you can rely on me.

Any threatening emails? You don't just attempt to incinerate a man and move on. For god's sake, give me something.

Oh. A text. Not a threat; a video from the homeless network. Must have been delayed whilst I was on the tube.

There you are, alive and unwell, and here responds my heart but it's nothing. Mere streets away from me, and nowhere near her flat. Why do you do this, John? Is your phone broken? We could just talk about this. Give me another chance and I swear I won't come on so strong. I was too presumptuous when we last spoke weeks ago. I broke your heart, I'm monstrous; you're no longer fond. I get it.

You're no longer fond, but you're in need of a hit. Which is curious, you realize. You understand how a man would get the impression... But no. I won't presume. Life is boring and I'm dangerous and bless you, you need a hit. Just come get one. I'll pretend I'm managing, I'll find a way to switch on that whole persona for you and you can do your hero worship thing. I won't act desperate.

Just show up, and I will respect your wishes.

Do anything but pensively stop on the sidewalk in front of shops you have no intention of entering. It just screams, I'm distracted! Kidnap me! It's been an age and I know you despise me, but if you keep doing this I'm going to have to conduct surprise drills again.

Maybe you're trying to get kidnapped. I wouldn't put it past you. Maybe it would be charity to send a car around for you to blithely climb into. Do you even think about how that would make Mary feel, John?

Of course, it's me you're thinking about right now. The tension in your posture, the unconscious clenching of your hand, the conflict evident on your face even from this distance: definitely me.

You know, I wasn't the only one who presumed. The papers presumed, the entire British populace presumed, even your sister presumed and surely she'd -- No matter. You've made yourself clear. Just: spare a thought for "the best thing that's ever happened" to you. I've no talent for consoling women on my best days, and I'd hate to see how I'd fare in a worse state than her.

No, I don't know that. I don't know that I love you more than she does. She's never broken your heart.

Oh. Wait, why...? For god's sake, Pilar, why would you approach him? He'll notice.

Well. Can't complain about seeing your eyes more clearly. Not good for my recovery. And there, yes, you've noticed. Paranoia in full swing, hackles raised, and a step forward. 'Can I help you?' in your usual tone that fashions a threat from etiquette.

Not good for my recovery, no. The things you do to my blood, John.

'Got a pound?'

'For someone recording me?' You scoff, narrow your eyes. 'Are you...?'

'Say, aren't you John Watson?' Oh, clever girl. Look at him, pretending he's not pleased to be recognized.

Yet nothing is ever simple with you, John.

'Yeah.' You're either too smart or too suspicious for your own good. (Freud would presume. I'm only saying.) 'Did he...?' You look directly at the camera; at me.

Come on! You assume it’s me? When roaming bands of criminals have set you aflame? Oh here we go, that spark in your eye -- you're going all in:

'Did you put her up to this?'

Oh well.

'Who? What makes you say that, sir?'

'Uh, well he does it all the time.' I don't. 'You know what? Just send it to him.'

'Not sure what you mean, sir.'

'Oh,' you laugh, 'you're not sure what I mean. Stop bloody recording me.'

And that's the end of that.

So. Guess you won't be coming over this week either. Or will you? Are you angry enough to confront me? It's not stalking when it's for your own protection -- just ask my brother, John. God knows he could use the conversation.

I’ve got to find more discreet operatives.

> Next time don't be so obvious.

When did she send this? Ten minutes ago. No, if you were going to come over, you would have arrived by now.

I suppose you’ve already said everything you have to say. But not even a text for stalking, John? I thought we had a connection.

Or we did. Before Moriarty won.

Not your fault. All mine. I underestimated him, failed to foresee the lengths to which he'd go for his insane plan. Didn't realize how many pieces he'd put on the board. Stupid.

A ping:

i thought youd like it? before you whinged you cant hardly see him

It was only supposed to be months, John. Then dozens of pulled threads later and you'd already gone and shacked up with a woman! That's what I get for being thorough.

And not even thorough enough. But if I wasn't thorough enough then neither was MI6, John. If Moriarty still had operatives in London, that's on Mycroft. And me. But definitely on Mycroft.

I don't know. Hate not knowing.

Are we really never going to talk about this? I took down an international crime syndicate for you, and you broke up with me on your blog?

No, no -- sorry. I take full responsibility.

This is ridiculous. I don't know why anyone comes to me to solve their problems. I can't even make it up the stairs.

Ah.

That's it, isn't it? I don’t live up there anymore, either.

Yes. Everyone says you can find Sherlock Holmes just up those stairs, back from the dead and cleverer than ever! Like most things everyone says, it’s not true. I search for him in these rooms daily, and all the evidence points to this: Sherlock Holmes was a character created by John Watson. An exciting story. A fairy tale. (Dare I say a fantasy?)

People will believe anything you tell them, John, and they did. You were so sure I was a hero that even I came to believe it in the end. Now they only keep believing it because I lied. I was never steps ahead, never as infallible as you made me out to be -- and now that you've quit writing me I'll never be anyone at all.

But I'm doing it again. Getting histrionic. I'm not the first nobody to have his heart broken. They all get on with life.

Well: usually. Technically speaking, the most invested ones turn to murder or suicide. On the upside, murder is still in the cards: Assuming I can pull it together long enough to hunt down the appropriate parties, they are murderers and it would be doing the world a favor to murder them right back. In the course of any such investigation there will tend to arise situations in which I would have no choice but to murder them -- or, fortune willing, sacrifice myself so that you may live. Or both! Now that would be a power play: cleanse the board of evil, preserve the king. The ideal way to die may yet fall into my lap.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

But say it doesn't pan out. Given my recent track record it would be foolish to place undue faith in my forecasting abilities, and after all, I don't know for certain this has anything to do with Moriarty's network. He pulled so many rugs out from under me I'm always half expecting yet another rug. I may grow as paranoid as you, John, with him skulking about in my head. For all I know everyone involved was in Moran's network, and I'm chasing after people who are already in custody. Maybe there's no grand end, no power plays, no relief.

That leaves suicide.

I'm not saying I will, John. I refuse to break your heart again. And it would be no way to honor the lengths to which you've gone to preserve my life. They're mere thoughts. They come and go -- always have, and I always haven't. I'm not going to do it, and if I am, I can always do it later.

But no appealing alternative has revealed itself. Only the obvious path for the invested: live like everyone else, and finally sever myself from aspiring to anything meaningful or exciting. Growing up, they call it.

Freud called it repression, so let's hold off on drastic measures. I made this life work before and I can make it work again.

Of course, that was easy for Freud to say: Being invested in life isn't an exercise in masochism when you have a lifelong companion. Not to be maudlin, John, but I wasn't making it work until you came along. Not truly. You were the gear that made it all click. I couldn't become Sherlock Holmes until you facilitated it.

It felt like the strength you granted me persisted during our years apart, but it's no surprise I drifted off course the moment you weren't at my side. That's not superstitious, John, that’s just a cold fact. You would have caught the little things I didn't. You would have kept my ego in check.

But what's done is done. I'll muster some strength for you. Reinvent myself again. Reorder my mind, keep myself off the needle and the pavement until I tie up these loose ends. Then... who knows.

Maybe someone else will come along.

Well. Feels good to laugh.

I’ve got to get on with it. Life may be a flight of uncarpeted stairs, but I'm sick of being down here.

'Going out, dear? John didn't call, did he?'

Will I always be this damned slow?

I sigh loudly, not that it will make any difference. 'No, and no.' You scowl like you do when I talk about him. 'Just getting in.'

You frown. 'But we were just talking.'

My heart leaps. 'You and John?'

'No, silly.' My heart falls. You tilt your head; smile. 'You and me.'

'You were talking. I was out.'

You shake your head and laugh, a cheery, infuriating tinkle. 'You had quite a lot to--'

'Mrs Hudson.' For god's sake, do not go senile on me. Not one more straw.

'Is it drugs, dear?' Terrible, hushed pity. Everyone always leaps straight to drugs! 'Oh don't get angry, I know all the signs! The nerve of him, putting you in this state. I'd say a few things to him, if only he'd come around once in a--'

Anything has got to be better than this.

'Project much?' The stairs are fine two at a time.

'I need those for my hip!’

'Adjust your dose! You're clearly...’ What?

What in the world?

'That would explain so much,' he says, and the room tilts.

Through the door. There I am. There he is.

Sherlock Holmes.

End notes:

In The Lying Detective, Sherlock tells Faith that chips are “the only perk” of being suicidal. In The Empty Hearse, he was eating chips when Mary told him John had been kidnapped.

John’s most recent blog entry before this story takes place is The Empty Hearse. It’s a mindfuck minefield for poor Sherlock, but we’ll get into that more soon. For now, know it contains this doozy: “Oh, and in other news, I’ve got engaged. But, it’s not something I’m really going to talk about much here. I want to keep some things private. I will say, though, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sorry, Sherlock :)”

I borrowed the name Pilar from Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas, a novel by Tracy Mack and Michael Citrin. I’ve never read it, mind, it just seems like it wouldn’t be the sort of thing Sherlock would assign to Wiggins, and Wiggins would never be so sloppy.

Sherlock is obsessed with Freud. One Freud reference in The Abominable Bride, which was constructed entirely from Sherlock’s drugged out brain, came from Mycroft, who asked John if he was aware of theories of paranoia. Freud believed paranoid people were closeted homosexuals, heavily insinuating that Sherlock believes John is a closeted homosexual. Freud meta to come later; he’s very important.

Freud was with his wife for 57 years.

“Life is a flight of uncarpeted stairs” is from the poem “Spring” by the early 20th century queer poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. She ended up dying of a heart attack that made her fall down the stairs, which is itself poetic. Though she was a woman, I think it’s realistic Sherlock would know about her: the Casebook notes that Sherlock reads the agony aunt columns in women’s magazines because they contain all of life and are pertinent to his line of work, and in the same spirit I’ve made him familiar with all old famous love letters, for which she’s renowned. We also know Sherlock is familiar with Shakespeare and moved enough to remember entire soliloquies, so there’s no way Sherlock could read “Spring” and not retain some of it — especially as John and Mary had been aiming for a spring wedding, and the poem references April, which is just wrapping up as the fic begins.

[commanderlestrange]

I JUST TOOK A DNA TEST TURNS OUT I’M 100% THAT BITCH

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“He did not give me flowers. Didn’t speak much at all. Just took me down in darkness, and did dark things. I liked them.” { x } ”You don’t know the power of the dark side! I must obey my master.” ~ Darth Vader, Return of the Jedi. ”War means fighting and fighting means killing.” ~ Nathan Bedford Forrest “I’m at the top of the food chain, and you’re the food.” ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon.

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Bellatrix Elladora Lestrange NICKNAMES: Bella, to be used only by those Bellatrix has approved of. AGE: 28 BIRTHDAY: 30th October GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: She/Her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Druella Black (nee Rosier). Fourty-seven. FATHER: Cygnus Black. Fifty. SIBLINGS: Narcissa Malfoy, Andromeda Tonks (disowned and estranged).

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Phoebe Tonkin BUILD: Slender. HAIR: Long with manageable curls. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: The Dark Mark on her left arm. No other anomalies - the daughter to the House of Black is perfect. SCENT: Expensive perfume, coconut shampoo. ACCENT: Standard English, although the longer Bellatrix lives in Yorkshire the more she is picking up on some of the Yorkshire colloquialisms. ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Bellatrix lives exclusively in black. The day Bellatrix wears bright pink is the day she is buried. NERVOUS TICS: Bellatrix Lestrange does not get nervous. QUIRKS: Fingers clenching into fists as violence is always the answer, being covered head to toe in knives, her wand always only inches away from her hand. Violence is always the answer.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Lestrange Manor. BORN: Black family Manor. RAISED: Black family Manor, 12 Grimmauld Place. PETS: The Beast - a feral rabbit that Bellatrix does not own but has made its residence amongst the grounds of Lestrange manor and will not leave despite their best efforts.

CAREER: N/a EXPERIENCE: N/a EMPLOYER: N/A

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters BELIEFS: The Dark Lord is the Wizarding World’s messiah, and will lead them into a new age. MISDEMEANORS: Many. But you can’t provide it. FELONIES: Even more. DRUGS: No. SMOKES: Bellatrix took up smoking after Andromeda betrayed their family as a way to relieve some stress. She has quit a few times over the subsequent years, but always seems to pick the habit up again. ALCOHOL: Bellatrix is a heavy wine drinker, but would drink whiskey if a good vintage was not available. DIET: Varied, but very rich.

LANGUAGES: english and some french.

PHOBIAS: Her own death, the death of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix also has mild claustrophobia, but is working on training herself out of that. HOBBIES: Reading, flying, TRAITS: { + }: Devoted, Driven, Quick-Witted { - }: Cruel, Bigoted, Ill-Tempered

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The parlour of Lestrange Manor, curled up in front of the fire with a book. SPORTS TEAM: Bellatrix supported the Slytherin Quidditch team but has not kept up with the sport since. GAME: Wizards chess. MUSIC: Classical music. MOVIES: Bellatrix doesn’t know what a movie is. FOOD: Bellatrix is fond of a proper British Roast Dinner accompanied with a Yorkshire pudding.   BEVERAGE: Any form of wine, but she prefers red. COLOR: Black.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 and three quarter inches, Walnut wood, Dragon Heartstring core. Unyielding. AMORTENTIA: Burning candles, roasted garlic, spices, fresh coffee, fresh blood. PATRONUS: Bellatrix is unable to cast a patronus. BOGGART: Her own corpse.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Evil. MBTI: ENTJ MBTI ROLE: The Commander ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Challenger. The Challengers see themselves as strong and powerful and seek to stand up for what they believe in. TEMPERAMENT: Choleric: Taking the lead, hard-working, strong-willed, passionate, excellent strongwoman of the team, determined, goal-oriented, and thriving under criticism. WESTERN ZODIAC: Scorpio CHINESE ZODIAC: Dragon PRIMAL SIGN: Jaguar: Powerful, regal, and solitary, those born under the Primal Zodiac sign of Jaguar have a powerful attractive quality that others can’t help but notice. Often eccentric and always proud, members of this sign are capable of great achievements as long as they can remain in control of themselves. TAROT CARD: The Hanged Man, The Empress. TV TROPES: Ax-Crazy. Big-Screwed Up Family. The Dreaded. Lady Macbeth. Torture Technician. Undying Loyalty. Would Hurt a Child. SONGS: you should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish. Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde. One Woman Army - Porcelain Black Closer - Nine Inch Nails

IDEOLOGIES:

Believes that the Dark Lord is the only one who can bring radical change to their society and put the pure back where they belong.

Is very against keeping pets as she thinks it’s childish, but cannot remove The Beast from the grounds.

Believes that muggle-borns have stolen their wands from rightful wizards, and they must be purged in order to return magic to its proper place.

Carrot cake is the best cake, and she will not hear otherwise.

Tea is better than coffee, but there is nothing like a good coffee to kick her adrenaline into gear.

[hufflly-puffs]

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald SPOILER REVIEW

So, I finally found my way to the cinema and watched the latest movie set in the Wizarding World. I think the movie was ok-ish. I get why a lot of people had issues with it, and I’m gonna talk about the more problematic aspects later. Overall I liked the first “Fantastic Beasts”-movie better, and perhaps a lot of this had to do with the novelty of it. I think the movie took its time until you felt the plot started, there were too many sub-plot and lots of scenes that were simply uneccessary. I didn’t minded the cano issues that much, to be honest, or at least that isn’t what I would criticize about the movie, because people will always have issues with expanding canon. We have certain ideas about characters, or we think we know a story, and people will always complain if the story told doesn’t agree with their expectations. I also think that this movie, much more than the first one, was made for Potter fans. If you never read a single Harry Potter book/never saw a Potter movie, you simply would have been lost at this movies, because it expects its audience to be familiar with the Potter stories/the Wizarding World. And even my friend and me, both Potter fans, left the cinemas with a lot of questions.

But let’s dig a bit deeper.

Fantastic Beasts

So obviously the movie had them, but unlike the first movie it wasn’t really about them. They were part of it because Newt is a magizoologist and because we saw a circus where some of the beasts escaped, and the movie tried to find ways to make them an important part of the plot (like the Niffler stealing Grindelwald’s necklace), but overall they were unnecessary, and I felt they were included because Fantastic Beasts is still part of the title, and that secene with the Kelpie looked cool and Baby Nifflers make great merchandise. And we can technically count Credence as a Beast, some sort, as an Obscurus, and he will obviously play a bigger role in the future. But still, the movie was much more about Grindelwald and the ongoing conflict he creates, and you didn’t really needed the Beasts, cute or not.

Wizarding France

We learned quite a lot about the Wizarding Culture in the US but nothing about the French Wizarding Culture. Like the fact that the movie took place in Paris for the larger part didn’t really matter. Should we assume then that Europe shares a Wizarding Culture, that French and British Wizards aren’t that different? Which would be weird, as European Muggles all have a different culture. And speaking of Muggles - we learned in the first movie that they are called No-Maj in the US, and in France they are called Non-Magiques, which is basically the same, just in French. So... Britains are the only ones with a made-up word then? Seems weird. And even if so, the world would have travelled to the New World and American Wizards & Witches should use it as well.

Leta Lestrange

I think from the all the new characters she was the most interesting to me. But her treatment was also among the most problematic. We see that she was an outsider at school (and also not fond of Dumbledore, which I liked), but it is explained by her being a Lestrange, the bad reputation this family already had back then, and I guess also her being a Slytherin. There wasn’t a single mention of her race, but I think there should have been. Which has always been one of the bigger issues in Potter for me, the absecene of race and racism, as if it doesn’t exist in the Wizarding World, but it totally should, because it exists in the Muggle World and those two are connected through half-bloods and Muggleborns. And then of course we learn about her past, about who her parents were, and it is just... there is no good or acceptable way to show us a white man who thinks of a black woman as a possesion, who kidnappes her, makes her his slave, and rapes her, which will lead to her death. And I dunno if it was supposed to a comment on slavery and/or colonialism, but there is no way that this scene was not problematic af, so the better way to write this would have been to not write it at all. There is also the fact that Leta saw herself as a monster, and that her final act of fighting Grindelwald could be seen as an act to redeem herself... and I don’t like it. It enforces the idea that the only way to redeem yourself is through sacrifice, by dying for your sins. It also took away the only POC-woman of the movie. Her final “I love you” was deliberately left ambigious, it was said in the general direction of both Newt and his brother, left open for interpretation who she loved (or maybe both). Also she did get along with Tina, and I guess I would have rather seen a polyamarous relationship between Newt, Tina and Leta (someone please write that fic).

Queenie

Oh Queenie. The fact that she can read minds already brings consent issues with it. I’m not sure if it is ever explained if she can control it or not - Jacob tells her not to read his mind, implying she can control it, but later she gets overwhelmed by hearing the thoughts of entire Paris (but maybe only because she was in a vulnerable state?). But then again she used a love spell (or potion) to get Jacob to agree to marry her, which again is really problematic. I think the movie tried to make it less of an issue by showing us they were alredy in love, and just disagreed over marriage, but still. If you love someone don’t drug him. And then there is of course Queenie’s decision to join Grindelwald. Which seems weird because why follow someone who hates Muggles if you are in love with someone? But what Grindelwald promises her is freedom - freedom to live the way she wants and to marry whoever she wants. I think Grindelwald works as a villian in the way how he gets people to follow him, the way he uses his words (and because of Johnny Depp makes me disliking him on principle). And it would have been more intersting if we haven’t seen him or his followers commit obvious acts of evil - like killing a baby. To just show us the version of him the masses see. And I do like that Queenie followed him in the end. Why? Because Queenie is a likeable character, she is good woman - and yet she falls for a facist. It would be too easy to simply suggest only evil people follow him. That is not meant to justify Queenie’s action - but it is a much more compelling story to have a character like her, someone we can identify with, to fall for someone like Grindelwald.Facist systems worked because of people like Queenie, who weren’t evil, but still made the wrong choices. (Though the implication of a Jewish woman following Wizarding Hitler is again... problematic).

Canon and where to find it

Again, expanding the canon will always up set some people. So that is not a bad thing per se. But let#s talk about three things most people had issues with:

1) Nagini. Saying that the pet snake of Voldemort, who was used as a Horkrux and later beheaded, used to be a women of colour... not a good thing. However, I think as far as this movie goes her character was under-used and at the time she seems to be on the “good” side, so I’m interested to see more of her character and development.

2) McGonagall. Whoch teaches at the same time as Dumbledore in 1927. When she wasn’t even born yet. There is no explanation for it to make sense, so I take this as a massive error in continuity.

3) Aurelius Dumbledore. Again doesn’t make sense as Credence was born after both Dumbledore’s parents had died (according to official sources). But the only source we have right now is Grindelwald. And that doesn’t mean it has to be true. He could simply give Credence this identidy to set him up against Dumbledore, as he wants to use Credence to kill Dumbledore. There is simply to little information about it, and I guess we have to wait another two years for more.

Some other things

- Theseus Scamander: loved him and his relationship to his brother. It is complicated, but ultimately they try to protect each other.

- How gay is this movie? There was some heavy subtext to Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Dumbledore saying they were closer than brothers, seeing Grindelwald in the Mirror of Erised, the blood oath. It was as textual as they could go without making it textual, but I still wish they will in future movies, so nobody can no-homo them.

So, I think the bad pacing, the too many subplots, the canon implications - not good but forgiveable. However I wish someone would read over J.K.Rowling’s scripts and point it out to her the more problematic aspects of her writing. Because right now the conversation between her and her audience seems very one-sided - she refuses to listen to anything we have to say.

[wakewithgiggli]

theconniek replied to your post “theconniek replied to your post “In loving memory of John McCain,...”

Where was all of this outrage when you let the GOP and Trump take control of your lives? Now you get to take your shots at a man who just died of brain cancer. You don't like what he did? Then vote in November and elect people who you agree with. The poison I've been reading makes you no better than the man you vilify.

This is a genuinely baffling reply to me. You realise I am a leftist, and have been villifying the entire republican party since before Trump was elected? I’ve even excoriated McCain before, during his support of the Obamacare repeal efforts. And any way, why would you assume that the people villifying McCain now have just started doing it, and were’t doing it during his life? That does’t make sense to me.

By the way, I’m British, so I don’t get to vote in that election. But that’s kind of a silly point anyway. It’s entirely possible for people to complain about one thing, and also to go and vote. It’s not an either/or situation.

For the record, I also reblogged things like celebrations of the deaths of Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan (I’m quite fond of the “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead,” and the meme “Ronald Reagans Grave is a Gender Neutral Bathroom”), so if you’re attempting to shame me for talking ill of the dead, you’ve really come to the wrong place.

(I believe this, dear readers, is what they call doubling down.)

But suggesting that people spending a few hours pointing out the evil that certain people did is at all equivalent to the actual evil that those people did just leaves me speechless. (But only metaphorically, so I can still reply to this nonsense.)

Anyway, here’s a decent article on John McCain and his legacy. A few choice quotes:

McCain’s legacy is more complex than his legend, of course. Many of his maverick moments covered for less-noble motivations – of pique or public relations. And his dying regret that he did not select Joe Lieberman as his running mate does not heal the damage he did to our body politic. By tapping Alaska Governor Sarah Palin for the 2008 ticket, McCain opened a Pandora’s Box of right-wing populism, energizing the nascent Tea Party and presaging the triumph of Donald Trump.

....

The media “tend to notice acts of political independence from unexpected quarters,” McCain later wrote. .... “I was gratified by the attention and eager for more.”

...

Up to and including his final year in office, McCain’s bold declarations of principle were often later reversed, or quietly abandoned.

In the age of Trump, McCain positioned himself, superficially, as the president’s antagonist. In 2017, McCain relished playing executioner for a version of Trumpcare.

...

Yet just months after this principled stand, McCain backed the senate version of the Republican tax bill – legislation that had advanced on a strictly partisan basis, with no committee hearings, and passed literally in the dead of the night. Heightening the contradiction, the Senate bill contained the central feature of the “skinny repeal” McCain had voted against — ending Obamacare’s individual mandate. The bill also opened the Arctic National Wildlife to drilling, a measure McCain once fiercely opposed.

[aion-rsa]

How Black Mirror Embraced Its Horror Potential with Playtest

https://ift.tt/31rDHKg

Monster specialist Grant Walker of award-winning VFX studio Framestore was excited when he received an offer to work on an episode of sci-fi anthology Black Mirror’s third season. But the nature of the job, for an episode called “Playtest”, proved to be an unexpected one.

“I thought: ‘they want to make monsters for Black Mirror? I don’t get it,’” Walker says.

Through two seasons and six episodes on Channel 4, the monsters of Black Mirror were largely metaphorical and unseen, signals and dispatches from mobile devices in a dubiously fictional world. Then the show was picked up by Netflix, which quickly commissioned a six-episode third season. Among those six episodes was “Playtest,” an hour starring Wyatt Russell (Lodge 49), Wunmi Mosaku (Lovecraft Country), and Hannah John-Kamen (Ant-Man and the Wasp). When that episode premiered on Oct. 21, 2016 it looked quite different from any other Black Mirror installment before it.  

In “Playtest,” the monsters of Black Mirror became literal with a grotesque human-spider hybrid and a shrieking flayed-faced zombie terrorizing Russell’s character Cooper Redfield as he playests the latest virtual reality videogame from a legendary game studio SaitoGemu. Though it all may be happening in Cooper’s head, the monsters created by Framestore are no less real to the viewer. That makes “Playtest” something truly unique in the Black Mirror canon. This is the one installment of the show’s 22’s entries that is undeniably, unapologetically horror. And four years to the day after its premiere, it still stands tall in the Black Mirror canon among the creative individuals who crafted it.

“I wasn’t expecting to do it. Then it just kind of just snuck in there, and it ended up being the highlight of my year,” Walker says of his BAFTA-nominated work on the episode.

“Playtest” director Dan Trachtenberg came to the project directly after the release of his film debut, thriller 10 Cloverfield Lane. Like Walker, he was pleasantly surprised that Black Mirror was set to expand its genre influences. 

“I remember that was the big draw for Charlie (Brooker). He was really excited about making essentially Evil Dead 2. And I was excited to continue to do that kind of work and I felt like I was sharpening a tool that I hadn’t yet fully sharpened,” Trachtenberg says. 

Trachtenberg and creator Charlie Brooker bonded over a shared love of both horror and videogames and quickly got to work fine-tuning Brooker’s concept into a lean horror machine. 

“What evolved the most was probably Wyatt Russell’s character,” Trachtenberg says. “Initially, the character was much more of an ugly American. There’s still that quality to him, but there’s a lovability and a naivete to Wyatt’s performance that informs the gravity of some of the things that he’s dealing with. In initial drafts, it was more like one of the horror movie terms of the unlikable person who is put through a gauntlet to learn to have values.”

The first third of “Playtest” serves to set up the improbable circumstances that would lead a young American man to a creepy manor in the British countryside to playtest a VR horror videogame from a Japanese gaming giant. It all starts with Cooper out on a sprawling world tour, traveling to India, Dubai, Spain, and more before arriving in London at the tail end of his journey. When it’s time to finally return home, Cooper discovers that his bank account has been hacked and he’s unable to buy a return plane ticket. Thankfully SaitoGemu is in London working on its latest horror game and it’s willing to pay for some willing playtesters. That’s how Cooper makes his way to the opulent and spooky Harlech House where lead designer Shou (Ken Yamamura) and the team are hard at work creating the next great VR horror adventure.

If this seems like a lot of exposition before Cooper engages with the horrors of the haunted mansion, there’s a method to Black Mirror’s madness. Much of what Cooper experiences prior to entering Harlech House informs the horrors that he sees. One prominent example includes Cooper watching a movie on his flight about a monstrous spider and then encountering a terrifying spider of his own later on. There’s also a poster for Red Sonja, which foreshadows the moment that a specter of Cooper’s sex buddy Sonja (Hannah John-Kamen) enters the simulation and has her face torn off, revealing the crimson skull beneath. 

“When (Cooper) kills that evil Sonja and slams her head onto the knife and through his shoulder that is (the position that) they woke up that morning. It’s kind of like in dreams, the way things are affecting you while you’re sleeping and then they show up later inside what you’re imagining,” Trachtenberg says.

The rest of “Playtest’s” dream sequences are positively bursting with similar dream imagery and Easter eggs that fans have done an excellent job of documenting over the years. Trachtenberg is fond of some of the subtler ones.  

“There’s a typical, classic creepy girl in the painting in a creepy house, and the girl in the painting is the girl that he’s sitting next to in the airplane in the beginning. Everything you see in act one populates in act two and three,” the director says.

Once the horrors of “Playtest” get going, however, there is nothing subtle about them. And that’s where Framestore’s work comes in. Walker and his team were charged not only with creating a small, realistic spider that sets off the hallucination, but also a monstrous version with the human visage of his childhood bully Josh Peters.

“I played around with quite a lot of different iterations of where to put the face, and how to change the anatomy of the spider and the body,” Walker says. “The mandible things, they were coming out of his mouth at one point, and then they returned into part of his mouth opened up in the way that it does. I don’t know if people notice it or not, but those legs are hands with long nails. They’re like fingers. It’s got a belly button underneath it and other weird stuff that you might not ever get to see.”

The undead version of Sonja was a combination of practical and visual effects, with Walker’s team serving to make the terrifying red skull “gooier” for the most part. 

“That was a tricky one. It was one of those ones when you spend a lot of time actually just massaging the integration so it feels tangible as opposed to kind of making this standalone thing and investing time in an amazing asset. She wasn’t quite so shiny, so we built our own CG version, and some shots were CG and layered on the top.”

The effects for Spider-Peters and Red Sonja had to be particularly on point as they are a product of Cooper’s brain and not merely SaitoGemu’s VR technology. As attentive viewers of Black Mirror know, “Playtest” actually “ends” roughly 20 minutes in when Cooper receives a phone call from his mom in the secure playtest area. The signal from his phone, which was supposed to be off and secured in a suitcase, fries the “mushroom’s” connection to Cooper’s brain and kills him almost instantly. Everything that follows is the product of his dying brain and not the work of SaitoGemu’s machine. This information, of course, isn’t revealed until episode’s end and as such Brooker maintains that it’s one of the most misunderstood endings in Black Mirror history. 

“If there’s misunderstandings of it, I’m probably to blame, which may be why Charlie is cleaning it up,” Trachtenberg jokes. “But frankly, every reaction video that I’ve watched I feel like people usually do get it. There’s even a clip where someone put what actually happened, where they cut out the entire second that they just show that scene as if that’s all that happened, which is fun to watch.”

Read more

TV

Black Mirror: Ranking Every Episode

By Alec Bojalad

The best episodes of Black Mirror are never about how technology will torment humanity. They’re about how humanity will use new technology to continue to torment ourselves. And nowhere is that more apparent than in “Playtest.” The episode sets up a scenario in which a VR experience will go haywire, but then in reality it is Cooper’s brain that betrays him, not the machine. It’s Cooper’s conscience that takes him on this terrifying freak show of monsters and murderers and then dies before the game even begins. It’s the proverbial “flashes before your eyes” moment in which that flash is a literal horror movie.

“I do find it interesting how devastating that notion is for so many – that it could all happen in a split second,” Trachtenberg says. “We definitely went back and forth so much on the ending. And I certainly don’t love too many twists as well, I just felt the initial twist was the expected one and I wanted there to be something more. I really wanted to drive home that it’s his fault in the end and tie in the fear of inheriting what his father had.”

Though the monsters of “Playtest” offer up the biggest scares, it’s approach to horror is deeper, more existential. Cooper’s real biggest fear is forgetting who he is, just like his father did before his end. And the mechanism that ultimately kills him isn’t any malevolent entity within the game or SaitoGemu, it’s simply his inability to connect with his mother during a difficult time in their lives. 

Cooper is quite the keen observer of his surroundings in Harlech House, despite being dead.  During one moment in particular, Cooper opens up a cupboard door to find a bottle of (non-alcoholic) wine and before he closes the cabinet he says aloud to his handler Katie (Mosaku) “He’s going to be right behind this door when I close it, isn’t he?” referring to the shade of Josh Peters. And of course, Cooper is right – just a little delayed, as the spider version of Peters that launches itself across the kitchen shortly after he closes the cabinet.

Characters in horror movies being self-aware about the “rules” of horror is nothing new in our highly metatextual pop culture landscape. But identifying the “cupboard” rule is still quite impressive. According to Trachtenberg, acknowledging the legacy and tactics of horror is an important part of any horror enterprise.

“There’s a scene in I Know What You Did Last Summer with these two characters talking in a car. The frame they’re on is the extreme side, and the entire other two-thirds of the frame of negative space is the window; and you just know that someone or something is going to jump inside that part of the frame. It’s about riding the wave of tension then releasing it. (With the cupboard scare) the audience has the sensation of, ‘Uh-oh, it’s going to happen here?’ Then Cooper calls it out and the audience thinks, “Oh there. That’s what it is.’ Now that they’re not expecting it, we can actually still surprise.”

“Playtest” could have been a lot more meta than just as a mere horror critique. At one point, Brooker planned to have a “Nightmare Mode” version of the episode available on Netflix’s streams, in which viewers could revisit it and get a new horror experience. If that sounds like the choose-your-own adventure nature of the eventual special Black Mirror: Bandersnatch, it’s because it is … right down to the focus on videogames. 

Trachtenberg says Netflix wasn’t ready to take on the technological burden of such a concept in 2016. 

“Charlie is a huge gamer, as am I. We talked a lot about, ‘wouldn’t it be awesome if we could pull off alternate endings or an alternate beat, or could there be connections to other episodes that you only see if you clicked on this button or whatever. I think he really tried with Netflix at that moment and there just was no technology for it.”

Being on the bleeding edge was something of a trend for “Playtest.” Many Black Mirror episodes are known for their uncanny predictive abilities (right down to the truly insane real life rumor of a British Prime Minister allegedly sexually defiling a pig). “Playtest,” meanwhile, preceded a run of truly excellent horror games (including one literally called “P.T.” for “Playtest”) and a modest increase in the popularity of VR technology. But four years on from the episode, Trachtenberg doesn’t feel as though culture is fully embracing the tech’s potential.

“VR was around when we were shooting. And it’s gotten much better since but I think we all felt like AR was definitely going to take over. I still feel that eventually. You just have to try it to know how amazing it is. But still … I would have thought that would have taken over sooner.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Perhaps that’s the real legacy of “Playtest.” It’s the one episode of Black Mirror that wasn’t cynical enough about our reliance on technology…despite killing its lead character with a phone 20 minutes in. 

The post How Black Mirror Embraced Its Horror Potential with Playtest appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jiM2pI

[rob-blog1234]

WEEKEND TV HOT FILM PICKS!

Check out my guide to the top films on TV this weekend and the best of the rest. Enjoy!

LATE FRIDAY 3rd NOVEMBER

HOT PICKS!

W @ 2100      Dead Calm (1989) ****

If you are thinking of watching “Adrift” or any of the other modern water based suspense / thriller / scary movies - forget them all. Dead Calm is the ultimate and only film of this type that is required. I have very fond memories of this suspense thriller. Nicole Kidman and Sam Neill are a couple on a sailing trip in the pacific trying to forget something terrible in their past. They happen upon a stranded ship with a man on board. Billy Zane is Hughie, the sole survivor on the vessel who just so happens to be a mass murdering, wife seducing general all round bad egg. Soon his true nature is revealed and they fight for their ship and their lives. Kidman is so young in this and was a bizarre casting gamble to pair up with the much older Sam Neill - but she is fantastic and I am always impressed with her handling of the character and the script. Dead Calm’s success lies in its atmosphere and is serenity. If you are looking for a well-acted, well shot, haunting suspense thriller then this is right up your street. Even with a cast of just three actors - this film is thoroughly engrossing.

Horror @ 2255       They Live (1988) ****

I love a bit of John Carpenter in my film diet. Especially 1988 cult classic They Live. Rowdy Roddy Piper is Nada - an out of work construction worker who hits the city in search of work. He comes across a pair of sunglasses which reveal the world as it REALLY is - the people controlled by the rich, a mass media saturated world where people are driven into consumerism fuelled pacification. Government messages are revealed in stark, bold black and white text on billboards, TV and newspapers - showing the messages of “OBEY” and “CONFORM”. Even more sinister is the revelation that the upper echelons of society are populated by an evil exploitative alien race. The constant Carpenter score is our companion throughout almost all of the film which works wonderfully. Funny in parts, action and fights galore - this is a great Cult Classic Carpenter.

Horror @ 0050        eXistenZ (1999) ****

From Carpenter to Cronenberg. Another favourite Director. No better course that a slice of reality vs. illusion dark sex-tech creep fest that eXistenZ. A game designer is on the run from people intent to kill her must play her new virtual reality game with a Marketing trainee to determine if the game has been damaged. We follow them both as they tumble down the rabbit hole of the virtual world questioning reality at every turn. Mysterious, thrilling and a down right mental - this is one of Cronenberg’s films I always enjoy returning to.

Best of the rest:

Disney @ 1802       Aladdin (1992) *****

Film4 @ 1815         Runaway Jury (2003) ****

TCM @ 1855          The Others (2001) ****

CBBC @ 1900        How to Train Your Dragon (2010) ****

ITV2 @ 2100          Bridesmaids (2011) ***

5* @ 2100              21 Jump Street (2012) ****

TCM @ 2100         Mad Max (1979) *****

TCM @ 2250         Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (1981) *****

Film4 @ 2250        Boy (2010) ****

SATURDAY 4th NOVEMBER

HOT PICKS!

TCM @ 2100     Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (1981) *****

The Road Warrior has always been my stand out favourite Mad Max film and probably always will. Raw, unforgiving and unglamorous. The Road Warrior ticks all the boxes when it comes to action and thrills. Tom Hardy sits very comfortably as our new steely eyed and distant antihero, but after watching The Road Warrior again last recently, Mel is always the one true Mad Max. The new outing of Fury Road treads an appreciative step forward in this post-apocalyptic world where the hunt for fuel is endless and fraught with danger.

I was surprised when I found out the original film was released dubbed for the American market due to the “Heavy Australian accents and slang” how times have changed! Anyway, thank the maker that didn’t happen here. That would have really racked me off. Thankfully it didn’t stay that way for long. I love the original Mad Max which sets up the back story for our loners fall into his nomadic existence looking for fuel to continue on his road to nowhere. This sequel / new start has a bigger budget, bigger ideas and some of the best physical vehicle stunts and effects I’ve seen. I’m still left wincing at every elaborate crash and explosion. The stunt people certainly earned their keep on this film.

In his search for fuel Max does a deal with a group at a fuel refinery to drive the tanker as they flee for pastures new. They are plagued and chased by an evil gang headed by the scary looking, hockey mask wearing, Lord Humungus who is intent on killing his way to the fuel they are protecting.

The final chase sequence is always impressive and even after 35 years it holds up very well. On a scrubbed up Blu ray version it feels as fresh as the first time I saw it. Thrilling, action saturated, road war carnage; Max Max 2: The Road Warrior is one of my favourite action films.

Film4 @ 0100      Dog Soldiers (2002) ****

British director Neil Marshall brought us the impeccable scare fest Horror film The Descent in 2005 and here is his 2002 directorial debut: Dog Soldiers. With just a meagre budget and a great idea Marshall managed to put together a great little Horror film.

A British Army squad go on a training mission in the Scottish Highlands against a Special Ops team. They talk about local folk tales of grizzly happenings in the area, but these stories become a dangerous reality as they come across the bloody remains of the Special Ops team. Something part man part animal is after them and will stop at nothing to kill them. They go on the run for their lives dishing out oodles of frights, shocks and plenty entertainment along the way. A must watch for fans of British Horror.

Best of the rest:

Syfy @ 1500       The Last Starfighter (1984) ****

Disney @ 1600   Aladdin (1992) *****

Syfy @ 1900       The Addams Family (1991) ***

ITV2 @ 1920       The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) *****

Syfy @ 2100        In Time (2011) ***

TCM @ 2255       Poltergeist (1982) *****

SUNDAY 5th NOVEMBER

HOT PICKS!

C4 @ 1715      Paddington (2014) ****

Who would have expected a live action / CGI cross over of the much loved story of Paddington would work - but it absolutely does. It’s charming, heart-warming and walks the line of sentimentality that never goes too far, it honours the original material and brings an altogether joyful experience to all that watch it. A sure hit with children and adults alike, with enough sequences of absurd action and moments of effective comedy that keep the flow continuously. A truly lovely film. Don’t miss it.

Syfy @ 2100       28 Weeks Later (2007) ****

When I first found out that someone was attempting to make a sequel of Danny Boyle’s amazing Brit zombie flick 28 Days Later I was prepared for an utter disaster but 28 Weeks later is a pretty solid sequel picking up the original story line 28 weeks after the initial infection. In a deserted London, the Military are tasked with re-housing 15,000 civilians into a secure compound so they can begin rebuilding their lives. We follow Robert Carlyle’s Don and his children Andy & Tammy as they settle into their new home. The calm soon turns to panic, blood drenched carnage as another outbreak threatens the lives of everyone. As the military loses control and make increasingly more difficult and ultimately poorer decisions the film picks up even more pace adding a nice element of human failings and moral choices. The camera work and direction really adds to the panic and terror as our eyes dart from shot to shot. This film is gripping, fast paced and packed with relentless zombie terror with some great edge-of-your-seat moments. Admittedly it doesn’t have the intimacy and originality of the first film but it still hits the mark as a stylish, action saturated zombie gore fest that takes pride and place next to the original as a great compliment to the superb first serving.

Horror @ 2240     Starry Eyes (2014) ****

One of the best horror films to come out of 2014. This brings a new take on the traditional and kept me captivated throughout. It starts out pretty slow but with its great synth score and Los Angeles at night looking fantastic - I was hooked. It can be quite brutal in parts and that works here but certainly not one for the squeamish. It wears its message blatantly on its sleeve - no subtleties here but who cares. A cracking Indie Horror.

Best of the rest:

Syfy @ 1230         The Addams Family (1991) ***

Syfy @ 1430         Splash (1984) ***

C5 @ 1700            Grease (1978) ****

BBC2 @ 2100       My Scientology Movie (2015) ***

Comedy @ 2100  Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004) ****

TCM @ 2100        Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985) ***

[smilinstar]

23/28/31/40/46 (why send one when you can send five?)

Lol Soha! I knew you would :-P

Okay so,

23. Name a ficyou’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you likeit.

Hmm. Okay, so shocking Iknow, but I’m not going for a Steroline fic. I’m actually really of fond of ‘Feel ithere, the silence.’ It’s quite a short Agents of Shield, Ward x Simmons fic, from way backwhen in season 1, where I still had some hope Ward wasn’t completely evil and abastard, and this was my way of working through the reveal that he was Hydra. Iwas just really pleased with the way it turned out. It’s super angsty and Iwanted it to leave an emotional punch, which I hope I succeeded at. And I wasproud of how the narrative plays out, it hopefully keeps you guessing/thinkinga little.

28. If someone were todraw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what wouldthe picture be of?

Omg, what a cutequestion! I don’t know! Oh man, having someone make fanart for your fic, that’swhat dreams are made of! Ooooh maybe my Jane the Virgin, Jane x Michael fic‘(she and he were) meant to be.’ The last scene with older Mateo and Michael hugging. That would be cute. Andprobably make me cry, given, well, you know what …

31. What’s the nicestthing someone has ever said about your writing?

Oh goodness. I’ve beenvery blessed with some really lovely comments over the years, and made somereally lovely online friendships with people as a result, both from gettingcomments and commenting on other’s works (you included 😊). Ithink, one that sticks out to me is something the lovely @silverline3 said onceon one of her fanfic rec posts about how one of my fics was the first she’dever read and cleared misconceptions she had about fanfic being childish andhow it actually got her into reading and writing it, which I MEAN. MIND BLOWN.Thanks again btw, that really was such a lovely comment to get.

40. What do you strugglethe most with in your writing?

Would you believe me ifI said EVERYTHING?! I obsess over characterisation the most probably, anddialogue, and I still feel there are characters that I just can’t do. Like SaraLance, for example. She never sounds right to me in my Time Canary fics. Ithink also because I’m British, and most of my fandoms are full ofpredominantly American characters, my speech patterns and writing style doesn’talways fit. I also probably get a lot of the British vs. American lexis wrong.Although, the spelling? I stubbornly stick to British English, unless it’s indialogue, where I may let a “Mom” slip in. But yeah you’re always going to see ‘colour’and not ‘color’, sorry (but not really :-P)

46. If someone was toread one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

Ahh shit. That’s hard.Just one? Um. Probably my Steroline fic: Sleep awhile, my darling (I’ll waithere). Although ‘All you had to do was stay’ has more notes, I was really proud of thispiece and although it’s angsty, it’s hopeful? So, yeah. That one.

Thank you hun!

[reekierevelator]

A Hot Wind Blowing

‘Ach, you’re always blowing hot and cold’, I said, as Abdul set down the main courses and I settled down to eat, admiring the red flock wallpaper and the funny big elephant god on the shelf in the corner.

As he turned to protest, the mouthful of vindaloo Tam had just swallowed blew over me like the sirocco had just arrived from the Sahara.

‘Look, of course, I fancy a holiday as much as you do,’ he said, ‘but it’s the money, I’m sailing close to the wind as it is.’

Tam was always the careful one; always desperately trying to peep over the horizon to see what was coming next. Worked as a scaffolder. Never quite sure when he’d be laid off between jobs. We’d been sort of pals since the old school football team. Got on fine talking about football.  Didn’t really have much else to talk about back then. As we got older we inevitably went our separate ways, but we kept in touch.  Both in our twenties now.  Both still single.  Since school I’ve been in an office job at Innalot’s petrochemical refinery, an easy train trip from town.  But it always kind of suited us to meet up two or three times a year and we’d arrange a holiday together. We’d always get together at the New Bengal for a decent British curry.

‘Come on,’ I said, ‘we’ve worked hard all year haven’t we? Don’t we deserve a break?’

‘Aye, well,’ he said, ‘a holiday would be fine, right enough Jim, but it’s finding the right place isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean, finding the right place? Anywhere with a bit of sunshine, right, same as always?  Not too expensive. Girls. Preferably a decent football team to watch.’

‘Aye, I’m sure that’s just what the volunteers were thinking when they headed for Spain in ‘36.’

‘What are you talking about man; that was nearly a century ago? We’d only just got round to introducing Spain to the beautiful game.’

‘Aye, ok, maybe Franco and Salazar have gone now but, you know, the winds of change are starting to feel gey chilly again.’

‘What the hell are you talking about? Winds of change – that was Harold Macmillan was it no? End of empire and all that. Listen, we can’t afford holidays in South Africa or India Tam, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘No, I know, has to be Europe - if we’re lucky. But it’s like Germany, I mean with the AfD stirring it up and…’

‘But we never go to Germany Tam. No warm enough, is it? And the AfD’s not quite Hitler - ein reich, ein volk, ein Führer, and all that – even if they do manage a takeover once Merkel goes.’

‘Aye, but you can’t help thinking though, can you? I mean it wasn’t just Germany was it? Like France - Pétain happy to swop liberté, égalité fraternité for fatherland, work, and family…’

‘What is all this Tam, we’ve all seen Casablanca like a dozen times haven’t we?’

‘…and there was Quisling in Norway, even Hungary was happy to go with the Arrow Cross… Slovakia, Croatia, they were all keen back then – you see what I’m saying? Who knows…’

‘How about sunny Italy then?’ I cracked a poppadum and tore off a strip from the Nan bread. I was getting a wee bit irritated.

‘What, with the Northern League and Five Star running the show?’ he said.

‘Still sunny though, isn’t it? It’s not like they’ve managed to get Mussolini’s back in the saddle is it?’

‘No, but his granddaughter, Ms Mussolini, she still seems stuck fast to the old man’s ideas - and they’ve elected her to the European Parliament.’

‘Ok, ok, there’s Turkey, we liked that the last time didn’t we?’

‘With Erdogan now though, clapping half the country in prison…’

‘My God, you need to get a grip Tam. Next it’ll be France is a no-go area just because of Le Pen, or Hungary because of Orban…’

‘Or Poland because it’s clamping down on democratic institutions and selling anti-Jewish propaganda in its Parliament?’

‘I mean, that’s half of Europe you’re talking about.’

He chewed on a tough bit of meat, sort of brooding.

‘Aye, and that’s not even all the places in Europe,’ he said with some venom, ‘never mind the rest of the world: Philippines – Duterte; Brazil – Bolsanaro; Xi Jinping, Kim Jong-un, and so on and so forth. I mean, it makes you think, doesn’t it?’

‘Here, hold on a minute, my boy.  It’s only a wee holiday we’re talking about, not interfering with the régimes of every foreign country.’

‘Well, but it’s all that populism, authoritarianism isn’t it? A few years ago it all seemed to have vanished – the National Front and Rock Against Racism back in the day?  And then, like the measles, it’s suddenly popping up all around us again.  It’s like the embers were still warm and the hot wind of populism has got the bush fire raging again.  All the wee nasties are streaming out of the sewers that run in the dark recesses of the internet, trailing some kind of evil stench all over the place. Starts with wee things, like insulting Islamic people on buses, mistaking all Jews for the State of Israel, and then it spreads like wildfire.’

‘Easy on Tam. To be honest, the only evil stench round here is your breath my man.’

‘Away ye go Jim. A red sky, and a socialist hurricane of a wind, that’s what we’re needing to clear the air, set things straight. But it’s not happening is it? All falling away.’

‘Ach, socialism? That’s an old story. Look we can’t be worrying about the whole world. We’ve got all this Brexit carry-on right here to sort out, haven’t we? Tories are a fiasco and Labour not much better.  I mean… Corbyn?  We need a strong government to step in and take control don’t we?’

‘A firm hand on the tiller?’

‘Aye, resolute leadership.’

‘One to make the trains run on time, eh?’

‘Well, see the state of our railways, it couldn’t be any worse.’

‘Maybe get the country run by people used to doing things efficiently, people with business expertise, people you know can succeed because they’ve already got lots of money?’

‘Better than the numpties supposed to be running the place the now. It would be good to get rid of this chaos and take back control, wouldn’t it? Too many cooks, that’s what I say.’

‘Oh take back control is it?  Parliament’s broken. Democracy obviously just doesn’t work any more. We need top people in charge who should just step up and run the country for us.’

‘Well, if it works what’s wrong with that Tam?’

‘Maybe they could stop all the self-serving trade unionists from messing things up for everyone else while they’re at it, eh? We’ll have proper efficiently run state trade unions and Britain for the British. That’s it, is it?’

‘Here, keep your hair on Tam. Naebody said anything about unions. What’s that one you’re in, Unite or something? They’re sometimes after my hard-earned too, but I soon tell them where to go.’

Tam just sort of grunted.

‘And I’m as Scottish as you are,’ I said, ‘and well you know it. But you’ve got to admit it’s getting harder to hear the guid Scots tongue on the streets these days. Chinese, Lithuanian, and Arabic. I mean, I can just about handle all these la-di-da English voices.’

‘So, it’s too many immigrants is it?  Blacks or Jews is it? Or just too many East Europeans working hard to keep our care homes, NHS, and hospitality industries afloat, or Chinese students pouring money into our colleges. What do you think? Maybe it’s time to corral all those turbaned Sikhs into a tenement in Leith is it? Stop them running around buying up all the tacky tourist shops? Time to round up all the burka’d Islamic types eh, include the refugees and asylum seekers and so on, and ship them all off back to the Middle East where they belong? And while we’re at it we could sort out those other deviants, that lot who refuse to settle in one place and make a mess of waste ground, all those travellers, gypsies, tinkers. Do it once and all, - is that it?’

‘Here, haud on a minute Tam, it sounds like you’re trying to make me out as some sort of bad guy here?’

He sort of screwed up his face into a wry smile and said ‘Well, maybe just a wee bit racially or religiously intolerant, no?’

‘And when did I ever say anything against black people? I mean there was never anything to say when the only black people you ever saw up here were students, was there? It’s different now though.’

Tam wiped his face with a napkin, leaned back into his chair, and gave me a quizzical look.

‘Jim,’ he said, getting on his high horse, ‘are you at the wind-up or are you really wanting to be out there fanning the flames? I mean, man to man the world ower shall brithers be for a that. That no right? Egalitarianism? Fairness? Mutual respect? The pluralist society? Common decency? Anyway, half those guys are as Scottish as you are.  I mean, what next - stop wasting money on caring for mentally ill people; stop wasting money bringing decades old cases of sexual abuse to trial? Who cares, eh?’

‘Here, listen, I’m on your side there Tam. What’s all those initials, LGBTQ and so on, what’s all that stuff about anyway?  Bunch of poofters and perverts. I hate all those pederasts and sexual exploitation merchants. They want to lock them all up and throw away the key.’

‘What, so that you and me can pay a fortune in taxes to keep them in prison for the rest of their lives?’

‘Aye, well, just find some other way to get rid of them that’s cheaper then. We could always bring back hanging.  And there’s science. I mean medical science is fairly progressing, isn’t it? Maybe concentrate on the future. Give the money to the medics to spend on all that new gene-editing stuff. Genetic modification.  Make all the babies come out right in future and we’ll have all those problems sorted.’

For some reason Tam sighed a really heavy sigh. He put his elbows on the table – which, strictly speaking, in terms of good manners, you really shouldn’t do, - and he dropped his head on to his hands like it weighed a ton. Then I heard him muttering under his breath.

‘Aye Jim, and even Churchill that said that a hundred thousand morally degenerate Britons should be forcibly sterilized and the rest put in labour camps. Aye, right enough. He said it was the only way to halt the decline of the British race.  They were all fond of eugenics in those days, weren’t they? And Churchill was a great man wasn’t he?’

‘Well,’ I agreed, ‘he was a great speaker, wasn’t he?’ - because Tam was saying it like Churchill wasn’t really a great man. ‘Won the war, didn’t he? Sent back all those Russian prisoners. Let their own people sort them out properly. Sometimes he said things just for emphasis, a bit of hyperbole and that.’

‘Aye, like old Mosely and his black shirts. Just saying things for effect. At least until Cable Street.’

‘Here, Sir Oswald was a lord, Tam, a genuine aristocrat, Winchester school and everything. He was trying to do what was best for Britain.’

‘Ok, so what, you’re saying there are some people we should just throw to the wind, eh? His British Union of Fascists wanted to start with the Jews.’

Tam sat up straight and looked me right in the eye.

‘Here, you know Jim, just saying that about throwing things to the wind brings to mind another breeze, the kamikaze, the divine winds, the winds that saved Japan from the Mongol fleets of the Kublai Khan back in 1274 and 1281. But when they got into having really strong men at the top that wind didn’t help them too much did it? They crashed in flames in 1945.’

‘Died with honour though Tam. Patriotic, weren’t they? They died for their god-emperor, their culture, defending their whole history. Kind of thing we should be doing. Sort of heroic really.’

‘Wasn’t easy for the Allies though, was it?  Nearly didn’t make it. Touch and go with the USA coming in to help; and being dependent on that other mad dictator, Stalin, to do the business at his end.’

‘Aye, Britannia ruled the waves and it was Scotland the Brave, no?’

‘Oh aye, we’re the best Jim. Wha’s like us? No mony and they’re a’ deid. Only three kinds o’ people. Scotsmen, people that want to be Scotsmen, and people wi’ nae sense – that no right eh?  Arrant jingoist nonsense so it is. Leave a’ that crap tae the Erdogans, Putins, and American white supremacists with their Aryan nonsense, or religious fundamentalists convinced that if you’re not exactly the same as them you’re not quite human.’

‘Aye, right, ok Tam. Nae need tae get hot under the collar.  To be honest if we get a summer as good as last time I’d be happy with Blackpool. Maybe Largs or Rothesay this year. Even Millport.’

‘How about the Irish Republic?’

‘What, wait a minute now, mingling with the Taigs?’

And Tam kind of looked away like he didn’t want to know me, didn’t want to be seen beside me. When he spoke his face was kind of drawn and serious and it was like he wasn’t really speaking to me anymore.

‘My God, but it’s come to something, hasn’t it, when we have to look to Ireland and the Irish Taoiseach for lessons in religious, racial, and sexual tolerance.’

I said, ‘Dinnae fash yersel Tam. You’re getting yourself all worked up and excited for no reason… The chilies in that curry fair go for you, don’t they? Do you fancy cooling down a bit with a bowl of ice-cream?’

‘Aye, right,’ he said, ‘ok then.’ He sounded a bit sad, almost despairing. Maybe holiday money was a bigger problem for him that I’d imagined.

So I shouts the order.

‘Hey, Abdul - two ice-creams when you’re ready pal.’

And the waiter comes over with that big stupid smile of his.

‘Yes indeed. Very nice to see you again gentlemen. I remember from last time. James and Thomas is it not? Oh, and good manners insist I tell you my own name. It is actually Ramesh, Ramesh Ranganathan.’

And as he stood there smiling – trying to curry favour - I mind I just said ‘Aye, right you are then Abdul. Make it three scoops each. Vanilla, all white, for Tam here. Strawberry, vanilla, and blueberry - red, white, and blue - for me.’

And right there and then, for some unknown reason, Tam launched himself at me, spouting some drivel about direct action. He had his hand clamped round the back of my neck and pushed my face down into what was left of the poppadums and mango chutney. Chutney all over my face. And my nose was sore and I saw it was bleeding. Blood dripping onto the white tablecloth. That Tam, what a hot-headed bampot. Hot head and hot breath right enough.

Of course, I had to call the police. The police know how to deal with people like that; they know which side they’re on, don’t they? Of course, I haven’t seen Tam since; although I did hear he was fined and bound over to keep the peace. They let him go on a promise of good behaviour and told him to get back to his work. Doubt if he’ll be getting a holiday this year though.  

But since then I’ve made a barrow-load of new friends through the internet. I’ve already fixed up a week’s holiday with some pals of some Robinson bloke in England. Some decent football teams to watch down there. Then later I’m off on the big one: a holiday in the sunny Southern USA with a couple of them. Apparently they know about this little sort of holiday camp where the air stays really hot even when a wind’s blowing. They’re thinking of maybe heading down to the Mexican border, or I might see Beckham’s new lot - what is it, Inter Miami CF? - playing somewhere. Great, eh?

And if my new pals are with me the next time I see Tam they say he’s got a bit of a surprise coming.

[newton-af-scamander]

How to Seduce a British Magizoologist Part 2

A field guide by Percival Graves

My first attempt at Gramander, featuring oblivious!Newt and pining!Percival. Alternate title: 5 times Graves tries to woo newt with different creature mating rituals, + 1 time is actually works. Beta’d by my lovely friend @fairychemist

Rating: Teen, may increase

Pairing: Newt Scamander/Original Percival Graves.

Part 2 of 7, will be compiled at the end and put up onto AO3 as one

The male Niffler will take prized treasures from its own nest and present them to the female that it is trying to impress. The more valued the treasure, the more interest it shows the female. The female then takes the gift, and will either return it later or decide to keep it. The females have been known to keep things for up to two days before they return it, or some even return it on the spot. The male Niffler will sniff around the female's home to see if the gift is being displayed in the female’s home. The female may also reject gifts from the same male multiple times before accepting them, so the males usually start small and give grander and grander gifts. I once even witnessed a male Niffler get rejected fourteen times before being chosen.

Once the female has accepted the gift, she will then place it at the entrance to her home, where the male will then pick it up and bring it inside to her and commence with mating. This lasts approximately 24 hours, before the couple parts ways, the female keeping the offered treasure as her own. The male will then visit every night until one night it leaves with a small treasure from the female's nest and does not return. This signifies the female is succesfully with child.

The section on Nifflers goes on to the gestation time and upbringing of the Niffler but Graves only needs the mating ritual part. A complicated yet simple tradition, Graves decides to start with the Niffler. He looks around his apartment, taking in the furnishings and the sparse homey trinkets. He highly doubts gifting his couch to Newt will be ideal, but maybe one of his framed pictures? Would sentimental value be better or materialistic? The Niffler was quite fond of anything of worth. Maybe his Grandmother’s antique silver tea set would be more appropriate.

Time to visit the Graves family vault then.

xXx

An unexpected chance shows up the next day after work. Percival is walking home from MACUSA that day so he can stop by the store to grab some dinner, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck when the early december wind whips at his face, the cold sucking out any body heat he manages to produce. He would have preferred to Apparate but the store was a Muggle store and that was a security risk. He ducks into the store away from the wind, rubbing his gloved hands together to drive the cold away, when he spots his favorite magizoologist in the very same store.

Even with his back to Percival, it is unmistakably Newt, with his signature blue coat and mop of red hair. The redhead is hunched over the fruits, picking up a sack of oranges and inspecting them before adding it to his already generous pile. He must be shopping for his creatures. Percival makes his way over to him, smile pulling at his lips. The bite of cold is already being replaced with a warmth blooming in his chest.

“Mr. Scamander, what a pleasant surprise.”

The man startles and spins around; as his eyes meet Graves’, a soft smile spreads over freckled cheeks that are still rosy from the cold. Graves swallows the lump in his throat that forms at the attractive sight before him.

“Percival,” Newt breathes, tone pleasantly warm. “I thought I told you to call me Newt.”

“Newt,” he corrects himself. They haven’t been on a first name basis for very long, and Graves is still in a workplace mindset. The resulting smile is worth it, and Percival joins Newt in his shopping, remaining after he's already picked up everything he needs to help Newt carry the alarming amount of food to the register. The cashier eyes them questioningly but doesn't say anything, just ringing them up.

Newt declines his offer of further help home and piles the grocery bags into his arms. Graves finds himself once again marveling at the hidden strength in Newt’s skinny body. He holds the bags of meat with ease and they make their way out of the store and back into the cold.

“Mercy Lewis, Newt, where are your gloves? Your hat? I know you own at least a scarf.” The magizoologist at least manages to look apologetic as he smiles sheepishly.

“It may have slipped my mind? By the time I noticed it was too much trouble to turn around.”

“Too much trouble-” Graves huffs and pulls his scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around the protesting magizoologist. It then occurs to him that he is giving something of his own to Newt, and wonders if this might count as a courting gift.

“Th-thank you,” the magizoologist is blushing, and Graves has an inkling that it isn’t just from the cold. Newt has his chin tucked into his chest, nose buried into Graves’ scarf as he glances up as graves under auburn eyelashes. The sight of Newt wrapped in his scarf causes something animalistic inside of him to purr in approval.

They hold each other's gaze for a few more intense moments before a no-maj bumps into Graves and the contact breaks. Graves scowls at the man, who is scowling right back at him over his shoulder.

“I’d better go,” Newt says, and Graves attention is back on him now. Graves fishes for something to say to keep him here longer.

“Are you walking from here then?” Newt nods in answer. “Would you like to side-along with me? It’s no problem.”

Newt shakes his head, “I’m not a huge fan of side-alongs. If I get splinched I’d rather it be my own fault.” Graves offers to walk him to the nearest approved Apparition point and Newt at least allows that.

“So you finally got your Apparition license then?”

“Er, not exactly.”

“You know, of all the people to admit that to, the Director of Magical Security isn’t your best choice, Newt.”

“Probably not, no.” Newt giggles. They both know Graves wouldn’t be doing anything about it.

“Swing by my office tomorrow with the form, I'll sign off on it.” It’s not his usual job, and if Madame Picquery saw it it would earn a raised brow, but no one would question his signing it. Hell, half the department wouldn’t even be surprised; they were all involved in a betting pool on his relationship with the visiting wizard.

“Good night, Percival.” Newt dips his head in farewell then Disapparates away.

xXx

The next morning his rather good mood is dampened when he finds the scarf neatly folded on his desk along with the filled out Apparition permit and a small folded paper with his name written across it in Newt’s neat scrawl.

He picks up the note in one hand and thumbs it open, other hand still shoved deep in his pocket.

Thank you for letting me borrow this. I shall endeavor to remember mine going forward. I’m not used to this New York weather, it seems.

-Newt

Its disappointing to see the scarf returned, but a smile forms on his lips anyway. The book had said that the gifts could be returned, so he would just need to try again. Let it never be said that Percival Graves gives up without a fight.

xXx

Saturday morning half past noon finds Graves in his kitchen, sipping coffee and dressed in pajamas while reading the Daily Ghost. He’d slept in today, his night blessedly free of nightmares thanks to his volunteering to be Newt’s guinea pig for his diluted swooping evil venom. Percival chalks it down as a success.

He is reaching the bottom of his coffee and is about to stand to get a refill when there’s a knock on the door. Percival pauses, wondering if he’s hearing things. He wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it’s his landlady? The knock sounds again, this time a little louder. Percival pushes his chair back and stands, pulling his bathrobe shut and tying it closed. He’s wearing a shirt and pants underneath but still feels the need for extra cover.

He opens the door to find Newt standing in his hallway, a white primate creature with large eyes hanging from his neck, an Occamy cradled in its arm. Percival almost lets his jaw drop. Instead he grabs Newt and drags him inside, sticking his head into the hall to see if anyone’s around. The coast is clear, so he turns and shuts the door, sliding the lock shut. He whirls on Newt, who is bent over to let the creature down.

“Newt, please tell me you weren’t walking around the Muggle occupied apartment complex with your creature clearly visible to all.” He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. The magizoologist shoots him a startled look, shaking his head.

“I mean, yes, I carried him the whole way. But Dougal was invisible!” Newt explains, raising more questions.

“Dougal?”

“Ah, yes, this is Dougal.” Newt gestures to the creature standing next to him, who looks at Percival with its large eyes. Percival nods his head, greeting it awkwardly.

“Pleasure to meet you… Dougal.” The creature just continues to look at him, giving Graves the feeling that it;s looking into his soul. He shifts onto his other foot and averts his eyes. Turning his attention back to Newt, he sees that the other man looks pleased.

“He’s invisible to no-maj’s?” He asked, because he was able to see the creature plain as day.

“Ah no, he can actually turn invisible. He’s my demiguise. They are often hunted for their pelts to make invisibility cloaks. I rescued him from a poacher in Papua New Guinea.”

Percival nods along, glancing back at the demiguise and sees it’s no longer watching him. Instead, it’s tugging on Newt’s coat sleeve. The magizoologist turns to him and Dougal points at the case.

“Oh, you want back in?” Dougal nodded and Newt set the case down, undoing the latches and opening the cover so the creature could amble back into it. “Thank you for helping me,” Newt said down into the case before he shut it and re-latched it.

“I didn’t know you knew where I lived,” Graves says. He wasn't aware that any of the other aurors knew either; some even joke that he lives in the woolworth building. Sometimes it certainly feels like it.

“I didn’t. Dougal showed me.”

“Dougal knows where I live?”

“Oh, right, he’s able to see the future and he was able to see Thursday when we have dinner.” Percival doesn’t know what to say to that - he’s still processing the fact that Newt is in his house, having sought him out. Newt himself looks up at Percival and the smile slips off of his face.

“Oh, no. That was terribly rude of me, wasn’t it? I can leave-”

Percival jumps into motion, steering Newt further into his apartment. “It’s fine, really, I was just surprised is all. In a good way.” Newt smiles back at him over his shoulder, hesitant, then ducks his head down and holds his case up. “If you’re free I brought my case over, if you still wanted to meet everyone.” Newt looks up at him under his lovely red bangs, eyes shining with excitement and trust. Percival licks his suddenly dry lips.

“I’d be honoured, Newt.”

Newt beams and sets the case down, kneeling beside it and thumbing the latches open.

“Give me a few minutes, I would like to change into some more appropriate clothing.” Graves gestures down to his pajamas, and Newt suddenly looks embarrassed.

“Did I wake you? I’m terribly sorry if I did.” The Englishman looks like he's about to pack up his case but Graves waves him off.

“I’ve been awake for a bit, just too comfortable to change.” Newt seems pacified by this and no longer looks like he’s going to try to leave. Percival shoots one last smile at him before he retreats to his room to change into a pair of trousers and a simple white button down and black vest. He grabbed a box off of his dresser that he had been intending to give later but now would work better.

He reenters the living room where he left Newt only to find the man gone, his case lying open in the center of the floor. Percival wanders over and looks down into the case, where he finds a ladder leading down into what looks like a mess.

“Newt?” He calls down hesitantly, and the man in question appears, looking up at him with a smile and beckoning him down with a gesture. He strides off again and Percival makes his descent into the infamous case. 

The end of the ladder brings him into a small hut where every surface is covered with papers filled with writings and drawings. There are magical devices strewn about, some he recognizes, most he doesn't. Plants, herbs, and ingredients hang from the ceiling or lie bound in bundles on tables. It all seems to be organized though, in some way that goes right over Percival’s head but it’s just so very Newt that Percival loves it instantly.

He spends a few minutes looking around in wonder as Newt strips down to his shirtsleeves. Percival may or may not be distracted as Newt unbuttons the cuffs and shoves them up to his elbows, showing off his freckled forearms. Percival notes the small pale scars scattered on his arms, bite marks and scratches, even a healing pink scratch in the inside of his left elbow. Scars that just make Newt more beautiful in Percival's eyes, scars that tell a story of the dedication Newt has to his creatures.

Newt turns back to him, a bucket of meat in one hand, and offers a smaller one out to Percival. He takes it and looks inside, where round earthy-smelling pellets are heaped to the brim. Percival in return holds the box out to Newt, who looks puzzled.

“What is this?”

“The point of a gift is to open it and find out,” Graves says.

Newt doesn't respond to that but instead takes the wooden box into his free hand, long fingers brushing Percival's. He sets the pail of meat down with a hearty clunk and caresses the smooth wood of the box with his spindly fingers, Percival watching with rapt attention. Newt has the most ridiculously sexy hands; Percival often catches himself thinking of how they would look wrapped around his- wand. Yes, ahem, wand. Not anything else. He reverts his eyes to the gift, blushing slightly.

The Graves family crest is carved into the top of the shallow square box, a wampus standing on its hind legs, roaring skyward with its tails fanned out behind it. It had been a disappointment to his family when he had chosen Thunderbird at Ilvermorny, but he hadn't regretted his choice. They had gotten over it with time.

Newt flips up the latch and opens the box, staring down at its contents with a puzzled look. “I’m afraid I don't quite understand?” Newt says as he reaches in and pulls out an intricate silver chain necklace sprayed with diamonds and sapphires.

“It belonged to my mother.”

“I’m not quite sure it would suit me,” Newt looks even more confused, and Percival is regretting all of this, wants to take it back. Newt probably thinks he’s strange now, but his throat is closing and he struggles to find words. Newt places it back into the box. “Besides, it would get in the way of my work and would just end up gathering dust in a corner.” Newt tries to hand it back, and Graves’ shoulders slump with the rejection.

“Yes, sorry, you’re right. It was silly. I had been reading about Nifflers and-” and speak of the devil the Demiguise comes back in holding the Niffler above it’s head, and both wizards turn their attention to the cacophony of noise it makes as it wanders into the hut with the struggling creature. The Niffler looks far from pleased at the turn of events until it sniffs the airs and its head swivels around to look at them, or more precisely at the box full of jewels.

Newt turns back to Percival with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen on the man, “You brought these for my Niffler!”

With the force of that grin pointed at him Percival is helpless to do anything but nod. Newt laugh rings out like music between them and he nuzzles into the fur of the Niffler when the creature suddenly climbs up onto Newt’s shoulder. The Niffler only has eyes for the treasure though, and he glances at Newt cautiously as he reaches a hand towards it. The magizoologist grins and nods.

“Go on, it’s yours.” The little creature doesn't need to be told twice. He lunges for the box, stuffing handfuls of treasure into its pockets, digging through the pile and throwing out a few things that weren’t very shiney or the handmade pin made from cloth that had been made by his great grandmother. Dougal picks the thing up off the floor and holds it out to him. Percival takes it with a ‘thank you’.

When he looks back the Niffler is staring at Graves, head titled slightly before he jumps forward. Graves jerks forward and tries to catch the little guy, but he needn’t have worried as the Niffler just grabs onto his sleeve and climbs its nimble way into his vest pocket.

Newt makes a noise of protest and snaps forward, catching the Niffler by the leg before he fully escapes into his pocket, something Graves wouldn’t have expected him to fit into.

He extracts the creature from Percival's pocket, dangling him upside down and giving him a very unimpressed look. Percival pats down his pocket and finds his pocketwatch missing.

“He’s got my watch.”

“Don’t be so greedy you nuisance,” Newt scolds, giving the creature a shake. The Niffler hold a hand over its slightly bulging pouch to hold its treasures in. “Give Percival his watch back.” They stare eachother down for a few tense seconds before the Niffler huffs and reaches in its pouch, pulling out Percival’s watch. Newt smiles and rights the creature, who drops the watch into Newt’s hand and the scurries off.

Newt shoots him an apologetic smile and returns the watch.

“He could’ve kept it, i can always get another.” Graves takes the watch anyway and pockets it. Newt picks his bucket back up.

“Don’t encourage him too much, or he's never going to stop.” he teases, and the look he’s giving Percival can only be described as fond, daresay besotted.

Even though the gift didn't work out exactly as planned, Percival can't help but mark this attempt a success as he follows Newt out the door and into his world of fantastic beasts.

[hazyheel]

NJPW Wrestle Kingdom 14 Day 1 Predictions

Wrestle Kingdom is always in contention for show of the year come December, even though it is usually the first big show of the year. New Japan is just that good. And this year’s card is just as appetizing as past years, even if it is split into a two night event. So we don’t have all the big title matches on one night, but it is still a packed night. Ten huge matches with a lot of big names. i’m still definitely looking forward to it. Here are my predictions for this year’s Wrestle Kingdom.

Oh yeah, also I’m back. Went through a bit of a rough patch in my life (college is hard) but I’m back on the wrestling train. Happy to be blogging again :)

Mayu Iwatani & Arisa Hoshiki vs. Giulia & Hana Kimura: This is a Wonder Ring Stardom showcase match that I did not expect to happen, but here it is. I have heard great things about Stardom, but my only real experience with it was in my small experience with Ring of Honor. So I have only really seen Iwatani wrestle, but she is pretty good, so there is no reason not to look forward to this. Iwatani is currently the World of Stardom Champion (main event), while Hoshiki is the Wonder of Stardom Champion (midcard). Since I have no clue who anyone other than Iwatani are, I am just gonna guess that she will win. This will probably be pretty good. 

Alex Coughlin, Clark Connors, Karl Fredericks & Toa Henare vs. Togi Makabe, Tomoaki Honma, Yota Tsuji & Yuya Uemura: A young lion showcase at the Tokyo Dome. This is probably the biggest stage that any of the young lions have been on, so good for them for getting on the card. I’m gonna say that the US Dojo boys will win this one, only because Fredericks won the Young Lion Cup so he may get the pin. But I will be rooting for my boy Tsuji all the way. This could be good, but I’m not going to get my hopes up.

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Satoshi Kojima vs. Manabu Nakanishi & Yuji Nagata: The last pre show match has a few of the older guys on the roster in a tag match. While I’m not a huge fan most of these guys, other than Nagata, they have been working together for a long time and have probably developed a good amount of chemistry. I’m calling TenKoji to win this, because they are an actual tag team. Again, could be a good match, but I’m not willing to bet on it. 

The Great Sasuke, Jushin Thunder Liger, Tatsumi Fujinami & Tiger Mask IV vs. Naoki Sano, Ryusuke Taguchi, Shinjiro Ootani & Tatsuhito Takaiwa: The match opening up the official Wrestle Kingdom Card is Jushin Thunder Liger’s first retirement match, and features a host of Japanese wrestling legends. Now, I don’t know much about old school New Japan, but I definitely recognize a few of these names. I’m gonna say that Liger’s team will get the win on this one, just so he can have one last pin to his name. I’m not expecting much from this match, but the aftermath should be quite touching. 

BUSHI, EVIL, SANADA & Shingo Takagi vs. El Desperado, Minoru Suzuki, Taichi & Zack Sabre Jr: Los Ingobernables de Japon vs. Suzuki-Gun. An 8 man tag that serves to get a bunch of deserving people on the wrestle kingdom card, and preview the British Championship match for night two. Not much else to say about this, but there is a lot of good talent in this match. I’m not normally into the hastily thrown together multi-man tags in New Japan, but this might be good if they step up their game for the Tokyo Dome. I’m going to say that Suzuki-Gun gets the win, because then the heels will get to beat down the faces, and that is always fun. 

Bad Luck Fale, Chase Owens, KENTA & Yujiro Takahashi vs. Hirooki Goto, Tomohiro Ishii, Toru Yano & YOSHI-HASHI: CHOAS vs. BULLET CLUB. Another big 8 man tag that gives a big old Wrestle Kingdom Paycheck to some deserving guys. This match, however, kinda previews two matches. Not only the NEVER Openweight Championship, but the 6-man tag team championships as well. I don’t care much about this match because most of the Bullet Club guys aren’t super exciting to watch, but I’m looking forward to whenever Kenta gets in the ring. I’m gonna call the CHAOS team winning so that there can be a bit of tension between Ishii, Hashi and Yano, because Ishii and Hashi are gunning for Yano’s title on Night two. 

FinJuice vs. The Guerrillas of Destiny for the IWGP Tag Team Championships: The unlikely winners of the World Tag League take on the totally dominant Guerrillas of Destiny. The big story coming into this match is that GOD beat FinJuice in the World Tag League late last year, so they have the edge going into this match. Even though I really want FinJuice to win this, and I’ll probably be rooting for them on the day, I doubt they are coming away with the big win. It’s not even really because they are a bad team, I just don’t think that they want to have Juice with two belts before the main event of night two (spoilers for my later predictions). I hope this is a good match, because I feel like it will be but GOD can be kinda iffy sometimes. But I think it will be pretty good. 

Jon Moxley vs. Lance Archer in a Texas Death Match for the IWGP United States Championship: New Japan does not often use stipulations of any kind, and this is actually quite the big one. In this match, there are no pinfalls. The win can only come from a submission or a KO, to be represented by a ten count. So it’s kinda a hybrid between a submission match and a last man standing match. Very interesting. This match came about on the final day of the World Tag League, when Moxley confronted Archer after his final league match with Suzuki. Because of the violent nature of both of these wrestlers, they busted out the aforementioned violent stipulation. I think that Moxley is winning this match because Archer has really just been a transitional champion. Moxley never actually lost this belt, and it’s a damn shame that we didn’t get the Moxley-Robinson rematch last year. So I think we are gonna get it on Night two. This looks like it’ll be a brutal match with a lot of weapons and maybe even a bit of blood. I’m really looking forward to this wild brawl, because we never see matches like this in New Japan. 

Hiromu Takahashi vs. Will Ospreay for the IWGP Junior Heavyweight Championship: MY LOVELY LOVELY BOY IS BACK! I’ve missed Takahashi so so much. The story of this match goes back a while actually. In 2018, Takahashi won Best of the Super Juniors and went on to beat Ospreay for the Junior Heavyweight Championship at that year’s Dominion. Unfortunately, the next month, Takahashi suffered a broken neck during his match with Dragon Lee at the G1 Special in San Fransisco. So he had to forfeit the title and has been out for a year and a half. While was out, Ospreay won last year’s best of the Super Juniors by beating Takahashi’s stablemate and now heavyweight Shingo Takagi, and went on to beat Dragon Lee at Dominion. He has held onto the title since then with defenses against Robbie Eagles, El Phantasmo and BUSHI, as well as entering the G1 Climax and New Japan Cup while he was still a Junior Heavyweight. After he beat BUSHI, Ospreay offered an open challenge to anyone in the Junior Heavyweight division, and Takahashi returned. And everything was right in the world. I think that Takahashi is winning here, because he never lost his belt and he deserves it back. Also, Ospreay has been flirting with the heavyweight division for a long time, and it’s about time that he moves up. He’s beaten a whole bunch of heavyweights, and he needs to be higher up on the card. This should be an amazing match. Ospreay is probably my favorite wrestler in the world right now, and Takahashi is just as amazing. Any other card and I would’ve predicted this as the match of the night, but Wrestle Kingdom is stacked as hell this year. 

Jay White vs. Tetsuya Naito for the IWGP Intercontinental Championship: This match has higher stakes than the Intercontinental Championship, as it is also to qualify for the main event double championship match of night two. These two absolutely hate each other, and were very passive aggressive when they interacted during their feud last year. Naito lost the Intercontinental Championship to White at Destruction in Kobe last year, and since then, both men have announced that they want to be double champions. So that is where we are with this feud. I think that Naito is winning here, mostly because of my next prediction and the fact that they have held off on a match that they seemed very fond of for a really long time. I think it could be White winning here, because they like him a lot, but it’s Naito’s time to main event in the Tokyo Dome. This should be a really good, if not great, match, but it is kinda falling in the background for me considering Takahashi’s return and the main event. 

Kazuchika Okada vs. Kota Ibushi for the IWGP Heavyweight Championship: The big passing of the torch match that I have been waiting for since I started watching New Japan. These two faced off in the G1 Climax A Block, with Ibushi picking up the big win against the champion. Ibushi went on to win in the finals of the G1 Climax and earn his title shot here. Since then, both men have defended their status, with Okada beating Minoru Suzuki and SANADA to retain his title, while Ibushi defended his contract against KENTA and EVIL. Now the two are on a collision course, and I can’t wait to see them go all out. I think that Ibushi is winning here, because it is his time to shine in the sun. He didn’t leave for AEW with Kenny, and he deserves to be World Champion for that. Also, I NEED THIS. I have literally predicted that he would win the Heavyweight Championship for the past two years, but none of it has happened. I need him to win here. Also, Naito and Ibushi in the main event of night two would be epic. This is the match I am most looking forward to. I can practically see the A+ that I will give it. 

[its-a-lark-blog]

What does "Dragon" mean?

I decided that this is what my first Tumblr post should be about. So, what does it mean? If I'm honest? Arse all. Absolutely nothing. It's just a nonsensical non-word. Wait! Put down the torches and pitchforks, I'll explain.

So... Honestly, the faux, hollow concept of a 'dragon' has always been something of a bastardised melange, right, which is why we have the arguments as to whether the creatures in Elder Scrolls qualify more as dragons or a form of pseudowyvern. Lots of those. Everywhere. I feel they're more prevalent than the Mass Effect Indoctrination Theory ramblings were.

What's called the 'Eastern dragon' (as anything can technically be a 'dragon,' including the mug sitting beside me) is truly a ryu, which is a very separate conceptually from the serpent referred to as drakon in Greek literature. And they are both equally as detached from the concept of a quetzacoatl. Just as neither of those three have any link or relation whatsoever to cymru dreigiau (Welsh draig).

The draig, in particular, is a fascinating example. It looks like what people think of as the 'typical Western dragon,' the heinous hexapod with six limbs (four of which are legs, two of which are wings). And yet, it's very different in concept; The draig is a creature of infinite kindness and wisdom, the guardian protector spirit of the cymru peoples. So how did the draig end up appropriated as the 'Western dragon' with such a different personality?

I mean, it's Rome's fault. When it isn't America's or Germany's, it usually is. Which is just an incredibly controversial way of blaming it on 'fascist douche-canoes who enjoy conquering people.' I mean, look, Trump is basically just Caligula with a spray-on tan, right?

When Rome assimilated Christianity in order to try to use religion to then assimilate other cultures (since Rome was always looking for new and interesting ways to conquer and enslave all those who weren't Roman), it appropriated a number of beliefs and customs from other faiths and beliefs into Christianity.

"Oh, you celebrate that? So do we! That's a Christian holiday. You silly pagans didn't realise? Oh, you ridiculously uncultured pagans."

The druidic pagans were especially difficult to indoctrinate as they were understandably far more fond of their soft-spoken, kindly, quite lovely dreigiau than they were of fascist Roman emperors, who were frankly quite rude by comparison. So the concept of the draig, itself, was perversely morphed into 'dragon' -- an evil creature who sought to kill the poor little pagans. Only the good, decent Christian gawd could protect them all. Damn nearly everything about Christianity after its assimilation by Rome is culturally appropriated nonsense.

You might think that Japan or America have a monopoly on improper appropriation of other cultures, but noooo. Oh goodness me no, not at all. Not at all. Christianity did it first, and to a depraved extent that no contemporary enterprise would e'er dare match. That's why I'll always raise an eyebrow, baffled yet amused, whenever an armchair historian cites post-Rome Christian history and heraldry as if it were somehow some sort of sanctified, perfect, pure thing.

It really wasn't, you know? That's silly. It's mostly a hodgepodge of stuff stolen from other cultures, in much the same way as the very English language itself is nowt more'n a gestalt of bits and bobs clumsily snatched from other languages.

Sorry, other languages. It was quite untoward and unbecoming of the British to do so.

Anyway, after 'dragon' was used as a nefarious tool by Rome's fresh, fresh new take on Christianity, it then became a construct of the media; Used for entertainment in various forms. Ultimately, yes, the 'dragons' in Skyrim are 'dragons' because the non-word 'dragon' is as completely meaningless a non-word as hungleflibbow, which I obviously just invented to encompass all deified human-like avatars.

I'll belabour my point as much as I need to, thank you very much.

So, Jehovah? You mean Jova, right? Weeell, he's just a hungleflibbow. One of innumerable kinds of hungle in the flibbow.

It's silly, really. The non-word 'dragon' is silly. The concepts of 'Western dragon' and 'Eastern dragon' are equally as ludicrous and deserve to be soundly lampooned. Personally, I'd prefer a remembrance of the source material they came from -- like the draig or the ryu, implemented with the aid of a cultural advisor. Instead of the brainrot we saw in Skyrim, the Hobbit films, and Game of Thrones, which are no different really than my hungleflibbow.

Yep. Hungleflibbow. Whether it's Zooz, Jova, Neppy, Ganish, Bhuddy, Kukoo, or any of the others, they're all part of my religion, now! They're all just different flavours of the hungleflibbow of my naturally better religion. And they have absolutely nothing at all to do with your farcical paganistic beliefs. My hungleflibbow are innately superior to your risible pagan 'gods.' In fact, these so-called 'gods' of yours are evil, they're out to get you! So I invite you to become a hungler and worship the holy hungles of the flibbow. Truly, what choice do you have?

I mean, Flibbowity -- my obviously matchless and distinguished religion -- even has a Jovakiin. Of course.

"But there is one they fear... In their tongue, he is Jovakiin. Hungleborn!"

I think you unwashed, under-educated, uncultured pagan savages call them 'saints.' Of all things. Tsk, tsk. How utterly crass. Your efforts are naught but a pale imitation of our patron hungleborn Jeebus. Jeebus, son of Jova, born in a backyard in Beaufort...

I could go on like this, it's actually rather fun! I won't, though. I don't think I need to, do I?

I mean, I sound salty but it's mostly just mildly cross satire. Of course, that might be what salt is? I've never been clear on its American meaning beyond its definition as a type of condiment.

Anyway, this grand effort is all just to make a point about how silly of a non-word 'dragon' is. I'm quite tired of it. it truly is a ridiculous non-word. Such a multimedia non-word. I do wish we could just leave 'dragon' as a concept by the wayside. I'd say 'no more dragons.' That would make me happy.

Jeebus, save us from the 'dragons.'

That said... I would, however, very, very much love to see draig, ryu, and other such creatures repsectfully represented in a similar vein to their cultural origins. Really, just give me a draig any day over a 'dragon.'

It really is a silly non-word.

If we can be honest with ourselves, 'dragon' today is nowt more than a means to have a beast for some pompous, stuffed shirt to slay. Whether as some heroic figure in film or one played in a video game. Would it truly matter if the beast they slew was called a 'dragon' or a nibblesnot to the vast, vast majority? I can't imagine it would. They care not for names nor lore.

I'd be surprised if most of those who played The Witcher games knew as much as ten of the names of the creatures they slew.

For those who do care, lavishing a beast with a decent name simply improves upon the experience. Slathering 'dragon' over everything just tells me that you couldn't give a rat's arse about your creation; Which is very much the impression I got from Skyrim, really. I got the very distinct impression that Bethesda is so sick of game dev. They're merely going through the motions to make the money.

Anyway! Once we can stop using the non-word 'dragon,' we can also stop having bloody arguments about what a 'dragon' is, since the non-word 'dragon' doesn't actually mean anything. Never has. If we simply cease using it, we don't have to argue about it.

Problem solved. Just so. Simple as that.

Honestly, how much more would you have enjoyed Skyrim if the creatures present were always, solely described as dov, and never as 'dragons?' On a similar note, wouldn't you have enjoyed Game of Thrones and The Hobbit more without the deployment of 'dragon?' Wouldn't it have been better if each respective species of beastie had possessed its own unique name? As opposed to plastering 'dragons' over everything as though it actually meant anything.

If you ask most people they'll say that 'dragons' are boring or played out. They're utterly bored of it, it's asinine to them. So why bother?

Point made? Sort of? Maybe?

It’s just a silly non-word.

So give us poor sods something more akin to a draig, ryu, or quetzacoatl, as they're far more compelling creatures. And you could actually have a chat with them, I find that far more compelling than jabbing a phallus repeatedly into a poor critter's newly made gut hole. But that's just me. You know, talk to the monsters, that sort of thing. I must be some sort of idiot as I find a good conversation all the more stimulating.

That might just be me. I tend to prefer a Night in the Woods to a Stabby-Man Simulator 2018. And I can see a whole gamut of value in trying to write from a distinctly non-human perspective. One could build an entire game or film around conversing with such a being.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this now, though my point is is that 'dragon' is an utterly silly non-word and I'd really like to see more media where a character interacts with a draig or a ryu in some way other than giving it various new orifices that it didn't request, requie, or ask for.

That's that then.

Footnote: This isn't an attack against Otherkin as I'm an Otherkin myself (see my prior posts). Simply -- Otherkin 'dragons' aren't really so; They tend to be Otherkin draig, Otherkin ryu, et cetera. The Otherkin perception is closer to those words than the multimedia non-word 'dragon.'