#Ninth Inspector

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

Sometimes, it’s like the writers didn’t do their due research before writing about things that they didn’t truly understand.

‘I’m about to FTP a software patch!’

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 14 - Screech

Before Sodor:

When he came out of the works, James was a very different engine to the one who went in. The regular, boring, utilitarian Class 28 who had been pushed in was gone, and out came a prototype. Hughes classified James as a ‘Class 29’.

“You’re a very special engine,” Mr Hughes said, watching on as James was fired for the first time. “I’m hoping your rebuild will bring all the successes I am hoping for.” That made James feel very special. He’d been plucked at random from his shed for the overhaul, chosen from in amongst a group of twelve of his class, as well as another six Class 27s who’d been doing their absolute best to be picked. But it had been James; of all the engines on the entire railway, it had been James.

“I’ll do you proud, sir!” chirped James excitedly. Mr Hughes smiled gently, and stepped to one side to continue to watch the proceedings. James was carefully steamed up, his slightly larger boiler warming quickly. Every part of him felt new and precision machined. His firebox was large and his cylinders strong; his superheater warmed him right through and left James practically bursting with the need to get out of the workshop and prove himself. His fire burned brightly, his steam pressure shot up. The men grinned as James easily passed all their tests, the foreman marking off boxes on his list with the smallest hint of a smile.

James felt his brakes being taken off, and then his regulator being very slowly opened, prompting him to hiss steam as he inched forwards. But as the brakes were put back on with an odd screeching noise. James frowned.

“Something feels a bit off, sir,” he said slowly. “What brakes was I fitted with?” The foreman winced out of James’ view, and went to speak only for Mr Hughes to place a firm hand on his shoulder. The Chief Mechanical Engineer shook his head slowly, a dark look in his eyes.

“It’s a new design!” Mr Hughes called out. “We want to test these before we give them to other engines, and considering how much stronger we hope you’ll be, you seemed like the best engine to trial them on. They do screech a bit though, but don’t be alarmed.” James beamed!

“Oh sir! I knew I was going to be special. Look at me – don’t I look smart!” “You look very nice in our livery,” agreed Mr Hughes politely. “Now we need to start running tests. Your crew and the inspector will take it from here.” With one final meaningful look at the foreman, Mr Hughes placed his hat atop his head and strode away.

James didn’t watch him go, his eyes instead set on the trucks and coaches that littered the yard. “I can’t wait!” grinned James, feeling his driver open his regulator once more after taking off his special brakes. They started him off on some light shunting duties, testing out his response to the controls. In the distance, a foreign whistle blasted through the works as another freight train blasted through at speed. James raised an eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” he asked. “We don’t usually get outsiders here.” “The railway is trialling a foreign engine to see how they could adapt it,” the inspector replied clinically. James hummed, considering the new information before continuing his shunting. Every time he braked, his brakes screeched, and he slid just a little more than usual.

“Inspector,” James began slowly after the ninth time, “these brakes seem a bit weak. Why don’t they stop me sooner?” The three men in James’ cab shared looks out of his line of sight. They seemed to have a silent conversation in the span of several seconds, before the inspector finally responded.

“They’re a dynamic brake,” he said carefully. “They’re a little slower to apply, but they are made of an extremely strong material that won’t wear out as much.”

James felt better after that. Had he been even a little older, he wouldn’t have accepted the reply as easily – after a certain period of time, most engines grew a sort of sixth sense around their motion. They could detect if something was wrong easily, and work to fix it. James had barely seen his second year in service when he was unceremoniously picked to be rebuilt; his youth had made him a prime choice. The older engines whispered about unification and grouping in the back of the sheds, thinking their shed masters were unaware that they knew of what was brewing. In return, their shed masters did their best to hide the full extent of the truth and quash the rumours.

James was ignorant to it all as he was rigorously tested. He worked hard at everything: he banked trains some days, hauled freight on others, and even pulled a couple of fast passenger trains! Each day brought another checkmark on the inspector’s form, and each night brought a new shed with unfamiliar faces. James never slept at the same shed two nights in a row. He went all over the network, seeing all the sights and meeting many engines.

None of them said much to him.

“Good evening!” James would try, only to get a lot of side-eye and subtle glances. James thought they were too impressed with him to speak! Or at least, he did at first. As the days stretched out into months and nothing changed, James began to feel the looks more acutely. The other engines weren’t impressed. They weren’t jealous of his potentially revolutionary design or the way that Mr Hughes sometimes came specifically to see him. They weren’t envious of how James got a special number and they weren’t in awe of how smart he looked.

They just didn’t like him. They thought him an imposter, an oddity. A weird Frankenstein’s engine made of a unique boiler, an unusual pony truck and unconventional brakes that just wouldn’t stop screeching whenever James tried to stop. James figured the screeching had to be from the metal brakes clamping against his steel wheels.

The screeching came from his wheels sliding along the rails.  

Seasons changed. James wasn’t invited into sheds as often anymore, sitting out in dirty old sidings in between the endless trials. They hadn’t ended, though James wondered if that was because he was succeeding and they wanted data in the wet and cold and maybe even the snow if it dragged on long enough… or if he was failing.

The foreign engine was still around somewhere too. James never saw it, but he heard it. When down south, he’d discovered that the whistle belonged to the Great Western Railway, which ran along the distant south-west coast of England. The few engines of that railway that he managed to see looked very smart, with dark green paint and great brass safety valve bonnets that shone like spun gold in the sun. They all looked very sleek and impressive – James felt gangly next to them. But when he asked about the foreign engine, he was always redirected away from an answer.

Winter came, and with it the rumour mill grew louder. Finally, James learnt an uncomfortable truth: the railways were being grouped together into four. When he heard, he asked Mr Hughes what it would mean – Mr Hughes didn’t reply, and instead booked James in for a general service.

The foreign engine left before the year was out, but James spent Christmas in the works sleeping to stave off the cold while the men switched out his brakes. Apparently, they weren’t working as well as hoped, but the trials were being extended to get an idea on what that meant.

The inspector no longer went everywhere with James. Instead, he turned up once a week and asked James weird vague and cagey questions before leaving again. Sometimes it was even a different inspector, especially as James was shuffled around again, heading further inland and into the territory of their rival—no, former rivals. James wasn’t part of a company that rivalled the old Midland Railway anymore. He was part of a company with them.

The Midland passenger engines had very shiny paint. They didn’t have the same gorgeous brass that the Great Western engines had, but instead they had the most eye-catching red paint James had ever seen! It was glorious – it sparkled in the sun and was vibrant even in the pouring rain.

James remained in black. His lining was neglected, and it slowly faded away. James wondered when he’d get a repaint. He had been hurried rebranded as being part of the new ‘LMS’ with an equally new number, but that had been done in under a day by a trio of bored-looking men. The new number sat stark on James’ tender, and he instantly hated it.

James only pulled trucks and shunted now. He didn’t get to pull fast trains or passengers or go lots of different places now. Instead, he was assigned to a shed in the middle of nowhere along a busy line, sleeping in a dirty berth on a dirty siding in between unimportant mineral trains from one junction to another. Monotony crept in slowly, James completely forgetting about his abnormal brakes and becoming immune to the screech they made when he stopped. Every day was the same, every journey the same. The Midland engines didn’t speak to the L&YR reject, steering well clear even as they slowly opened up to their old rivals.

And then one day, a new engine arrived at James’ shed. It was a design he’d seen dotted about, and it looked like a stronger version of his old class.

“I’m here to take over,” the engine grunted. James balked. “But what am I to do?” he spluttered. “I don’t know mate,” sneered the engine. “Maybe you’re time’s up. There’s rumblings in the factory that they finally finished the mogul design.” The engine looked James over, and snorted. “Oh, you’re the rejected design they built. Poor thing, there’s not much left for you now Hughes is retiring.”

James was rendered speechless for just long enough for the new engine to shunt some of the trucks into a line.

“I’m not a reject!” he exclaimed. “I’m the prototype! The class is based on me you nitwit – my design’s the future of this company.” The engine just chuckled, looking James over once more, before his eyes darted to James’ brakes.

“Oh yes, very revolutionary indeed,” he snorted, and puffed away. James was coupled up to some vans needing repairs, and dragged away from the shed he’d been forced to come to know as his home. He went far further than ever before, making his way well over halfway across the country. He was stopped in an unfamiliar workshop that bustled with hundreds of men and machines to have his LMS number unceremoniously scraped off, before being sent on again the next day. This time, he had a short train of trucks behind him. It grew steadily as he went, as did James’ temper.

“Get in line you stupid things!” he snapped, bumping the trucks harshly as he clattered along what felt like a double-tracked branchline to James. All the engines along the line were being withdrawn and replaced with yet more of the same smug class of tender engine that had stolen James’ job and home. James wondered if he was being drawn towards a scrapyard, tucked away at the end of this line.

Then he passed by an immense empty iron train, and realisation struck. He was in Cumbria. This had to be the famed Furness Railway that he’d heard of one night while in being trialled up in the north. Despite being such a small line, it’s massive industrial traffic kept it independent from the giants baying at its doors.

And look how well that worked out.

James arrived at Barrow-in-Furness with a long line of trucks, a screech of his brakes and a furious temper. His crew stepped down. “Sorry old boy,” sighed his driver, “but this is us. Your new crew will take you from here.” James stared at his driver like he’d lost his mind.

“What new crew? What is happening, driver?! I just lost my shed, I’ve been dragged halfway across the country and I'm surrounded by these smug Midlanders! Tell me what is going on!” James’ driver sighed, taking his cloth cap in his hands and squeezing it.

“Mr Hughes is being replaced soon,” his driver admitted quietly. “He’s decided to leave the company. Mr Fowler is taking over, and he’s agreed with the directors to sell you to the North Western Railway as part of a special agreement they’re making.” James blinked, stunned.

“The What Railway?” he asked slowly. “Wait… the No-Where Railway?! They’re… they’re… they’re getting rid of me?! But I’m meant to be the prototype! What, so they’re just going to use some other mogul design?!” His driver winced. A little shunting engine nearby looked over, perplexed.

“Didn’t your lot decide to base it off a Caley design that was influenced by those Westerners? The 4300 lot.” James went silent, unable to think of anything to say. He was stunned.

A new crew clambered into James’ cab and set off. James was silent as he crossed over the points and onto his new railway. He’d been sold off. He’d been sold off because he was a failure. His brakes screeched as his crew braked to slow at a signal. The trucks bumped and clattered behind him, hissing and grumbling.

“What’s that noise?” quizzed James’ new driver. James sighed.

“Those’re my brakes. They’re made of some special metal Mr Hughes wanted to test. They didn’t end up working as well, but I’ve still got them.” The crew shared a confused look inside James’ cab, but pressed on.

At Vicarstown, an old ‘American’ design from the Furness Railway was shunting in the yard as James rumbled in and began shunting trucks on and off of his slow goods train. The old engine winced at the screech James’ brakes made, then looked up and smiled warmly.

“Hullo! I’m Edward, who’re you?” “12620,” came the bitter reply. ‘Edward’ chuckled softly, rolling over to help with the shunting. “Not your number, your name,” Edward said. “I’m James,” said James quietly. “But only I call myself that.” “Well I’ll call you that too,” promised Edward firmly. James’ crew were quick to agree with the bright blue engine. James didn’t like the colour – it was too similar to Caledonian blue. The same Caledonian that stole his classes’ future with their mogul design.

The pair talked for a little, Edward warning James about the steeper gradients beyond Kellsthorpe Road as he helped the former LMS engine reshunt his slow goods to be easier to separate as the various stations along the NWR. James bumped his trucks roughly as he prepared to set off again. Edward heard the screech of James’ brakes again, and looked down. His eyes practically bulged out of his smokebox in shock.

“James, why’ve you got wooden brakes?!” exclaimed Edward. James snorted. “They’re not wood, they’re a special metal,” he replied harshly. Edward was about to say more when the signal dropped. James snorted away, continuing down the surprisingly steep mainline towards Crovan’s Gate. And Edward had called this the ‘gentle’ part of the mainline!

Crovan’s Gate was their works station. It also had a tiny little railway on a ledge above the mainline which skuttled about its own yard before vanishing off under a bridge. A tiny little engine with a nameplate declaring him to be ‘Rheneas’ was dozing in the sun beside the line. James screeched to a stop beside the little engine with trucks to be unloaded for the little railway. Rheneas jumped!

“You sound like you need your brakes checked,” Rheneas said. His accent was thicker than anything James had ever heard – it sounded faintly Welsh, but with Manx and maybe Scots in it? James wasn’t sure what to call it. “They’re a special metal,” James replied darkly. “You all keep asking me like my designer wouldn’t give me the strongest brakes he had.” Rheneas looked confused, but said nothing until James was back at the head of his train. Then, he spotted James’ brakes.

“But… those are wood,” he said carefully. James let off steam furiously. “THEY ARE NOT WOODEN!” he roared. Birds scattered from their trees. “I am sick of hearing that! Leave me alone!” bellowed James, storming off with screeching trucks in tow. The trucks were aggravated, annoyed, tired and then James had insulted Rheneas, one of the nicest engines on the island.

They had seen James’ brakes; they knew the truth. And they knew exactly what to do to prove it to James too…

Back to the Master Post

[indigovigilance]

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

[hannie-dul-set]

[is this an interrogation, or is this a blind date]. “ricky shen. shen quanrui. shim cheonye. wow. you have quite the collection of names, mr. shen. which are you most comfortable with?”

you voice echoes against the soundproofed walls of the interrogation room— painted black, dimly lit, exceedingly and uncomfortably cold. you let the police file rest atop your laptop keyboard to adjust the length of your sleeves, but it seems like your junior colleague sitting next to you isn’t all that bothered with the temperature in comparison.

“just ricky, please.”

the current…person of interest doesn’t seem all that bothered either. in fact, for someone being interrogated as a suspect for multiple criminal infractions, he looks awfully calm sitting in front of you from across the table; gaze wandering around as if he’s visiting a tourist attraction, two fingers tap, tap, tapping against the table as if he’s trying to replicate the elevator music humming through his head, and lips pursed into a curious pout as he stares straight into one of the four security cameras in the corner with sparkling eyes.

you feel a nudge from your left. assistant inspector park gunwook seems to be excited to witness his first interrogation. “all right, ricky,” you hum, smiling. “on the ninth of january, from 8:00 to 10:00 p.m.— do you mind walking me through what you did during that time?”

“oh!” ricky exclaims. you feel something spiritual rattle your bones. gunwook’s hands start typing. “january nine...i was at the gym from six to eight, or maybe until eight thirty? oh, and after that i stopped by at artisan— the bakery daehak-ro— and stayed there until nine, i think i’m not really sure..”

“artisan on daehak-ro,” you repeat. gunwook is typing every word exchanged. “i hear their milk bread is very popular.”

“it is! they taste very good.”

every syllable, every stutter. “the ones at boulange are better though,” you say, and you hear the typing stop for a moment. you feel your junior’s eyes on you. “soft. always fresh. served straight from the oven.”

“really?” ricky replies. “i’ve never been there before.”

your face brightens. you beam at him. “then, would you like to join me sometime this—”

a nudge from your left. you turn to see associate inspector park looking at you with a deeply confused and troubled expression. seonbae? his furrowed brows seem to ask. you assure him with a nod, a calm smile, then return your attention to the interrogatee. 

“ahem,” you clear your throat. “moving forward. after visiting the bakery, what did you do in the period between nine and ten?” ricky shen narrates the scene— that afterwards he bought a box of macarons to go then went straight home to watch some dramas. you interrupt him there, eyes scanning your records. “you say you went back to your apartment?”

gunwook copies the conversation onto his screen. “um, yes. i think so.”

“but according to a classmate of yours, miss shen xiaoting, she saw you walking along the sidewalk in hyewa-ro at around nine-forty-five, ricky.” your gaze flits back up to him. he blinks at you. he blinks at you with those sparkly, big, brown eyes. you continue to smile. “isn’t that a little too far from your address?”

“oh,” he says. “then she must be right. sorry, i can’t really remember.”

the sound of typing ceases. you feel an expectant gaze drilling into the left side of your cheekbone. you ignore gunwook’s avid enthusiasm at the opening ricky shen just made. you fold your laptop to a close. you bring your elbows to the table and let your chin rest on interlocked hands. 

“that’s okay,” you start. “we all forget things sometimes,” you continue, and this sends your younger colleague into a state of alarm.

“seonbae,” you hear him whisper, rather pressingly. you pretend that you did not.

“can you tell me what your relationship is with miss xiaoting?” you ask. ricky shen continues to sit very politely from across the table “just classmates? friends? maybe she’s your—”

“let’s— let’s take a five minute break!”

before you could even hear a response from ricky, who seemed to have no problems nor reservations in humoring your question, you’re shoveled out of the interrogation room by a very confused, very vexed, very alarmed park gunwook. “seonbae. inspector,” he exasperates. it’s a little hot outside the room. you uncross one of your arms to fan yourself in the face— not for too long because your junior starts to grab onto your shoulders. “please. please get a grip.” 

you look at him. deadpanned. he swallows. “i am getting a grip,” you reply, swatting his hands off your clothes. “getting a firm grip on this man because after years of being single thanks to this god damned job sucking the life out of me, my ideal type is finally being handed to me on a silver platter.”

“seonbae,” gunwook releases a breath. “he’s under investigation for charges of destruction of property and arson. seonbae, he might have burnt someone’s house down.”

“ah. well. i think he’s more cute than hot.” you peek into the one-sided window, showing the scene inside the interrogation room. your suspect is looking around and drumming his fingers against the table again. “there isn’t even probable cause to detain him for tonight. that’s a shame. i’m working overtime too.” 

through the window’s reflection, you could see gunwook’s expression— perplexed, confused, probably wondering how the hell did the scales of criminal justice fall into the hands of someone like you. you press your lips into a smile.

“five minutes over. time to get back to work.”

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 24 April 2013, the 8-storey Rana Plaza building in Bangladesh collapsed, killing over 1,100 mostly women garment workers, as bosses in the country's largest industry put profits before people. The first people on the scene to render assistance were local workers and relatives of those trapped, who began desperately trying to rescue survivors before emergency service workers arrived. The building had been evacuated the previous day after cracks appeared in walls, floors and pillars, but the owner of the building, Sohel Rana, claimed that an engineer declared the structure safe and workers should go back to work the following day. At 9 AM, one hour after the morning shift began work, a quality inspector named Mahmudur described to the Daily Star what happened next: “Darkness engulfed the entire place with thick clouds of debris. I heard screams around me. My heart started pounding… I lay down near a pillar, thinking that perhaps I was going to die. We were being roasted inside”. Rana, who was an official in the ruling Awami League party, had the building constructed without any supervision from engineers or architects in 2008, and in 2010 added three more floors of the building without planning permission. At the time of the disaster he was planning on adding an additional ninth storey. On April 25, the day after the collapse, hundreds of thousands of workers in the area walked out on strike, built barricades on major highways, attacked working factories and battled police before besieging the headquarters of the garment employers' federation, demanding prosecution of Rana and the factory bosses. More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/9625/Rana-Plaza-collapse https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=614209984085554&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[paradiseinternet]

I Hate Tony Stark: Chapter Three

pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

word count: 3.1k

triggers: foul language, childhood trauma, poverty, anger (although reasonably justified).

author's note: another chapter in the bag :)

also posted on ->

Chapter Three: My Darling, You Are Glowing

For a birthday, this one has turned to shit and has officially claimed spot number two. Quite remarkable considering second place was originally rewarded to the birthday you realized your family couldn’t afford nice things. There isn’t necessarily a tier for these types of birthdays, but considering how your life has been going, you’re making one up on the way.

As a recap, you are currently standing in front of the reception desk inside a questionable 2-star motel. Your room is on the highest level, that being the ninth floor, and there is no elevator. Tony Stark, your deadbeat of a soulmate, decided to rush down to the lobby to obtain a business card with an address on it—while still being in your pajamas. This leaves you with a rather limited set of options for when your soulmate (a genius) will most likely arrive in his high-tech, attention-drawing Iron Man suit.

Run out of the building and try to hide in an alleyway or find a crowd to blend into.

Run up the stairs to gather your backpack then run away.

Ask the receptionist if she’s a snitch, then hide behind her desk.

Do nothing.

The first option, although the most appealing, isn’t the smartest. With you being a lady in a nightgown running into the night, there will be no doubt some predator waiting to attack. Additionally, without so much as your flip phone and keys, you stand no chance of getting back into your apartment while also sacrificing your most expensive possession (the phone).

Looking at the second option makes it seem plausible, until you’re reminded that you have never run a marathon, much less bolted up nine flights of stairs. Even if you managed to get to your room in time, the great genius most likely noted your motel room number and will be bee-lining it your way.

Although the third option wouldn’t be your first choice, considering how the others are lining up, it seems to be a worthy consideration. There is a lot of room for error, and you run the chance that she is a snitch. Afterall, when facing the boy-billionaire, it’s hard for any woman to say no. Even if she isn’t a snitch, doesn’t the suit have some form of heat-radiation-detection-thingy? It would be rather naïve to not have all the military gadgets installed to resemble a Mission Impossible movie. Now that you think about it, it’s going to be remarkably difficult to hide from someone who has a toolbelt that rivals Inspector Gadget.

Which leaves you with the final option. You are not doing the final option.

This is as much analyzing you can do because you are wasting precious time!

Without further consideration, you turn around inside the lobby in hopes of finding something to cover yourself with. In the corner you spot a raincoat that doesn’t fit the evening’s weather but is better than nothing. On top of the coat rack you took the raincoat from, there was a bucket hat. Perfect! Quickly putting everything on, you begin to make your way outside.

The receptionist behind you yelled something in which you shouted back, “I’ll bring these back! I promise!”

Stepping outside into the mildly brisk New York night, you felt confident in your abilities to blend in with the night people. Sure, you don’t have shoes on which is a bit of a red flag in your disguise, but hopefully the night will mask your socks.

‘I got this. I got this. I got this,’ you repeated to yourself as you depressingly realized there were no people around.

One of the things you learn in horror movies is to never look behind you, and since you wished to take no chances, you maintained that fact of fiction. Another thing is to never go into the darkness, but since you were wearing fuzzy socks instead of shoes, the darkness would be a better bet.

You tried to stay out of the line-light of the streetlights, but this part of town seemed to be nicely lit to your dismay.

Correction, insanely lit. The area around you was constantly brightened up and it seemed that the more you walked down the sidewalk, the brighter the light got. There was no in-between darkness like how streetlights were typically separated.

Looking up in confusion, you gasped in bafflement.

It was at this moment you heard something like a putter become silenced as the sound of heavy metal dropping temporarily replaced it. This noise seemed to be coming from where you had just left—in front of the motel’s main entrance. He has arrived.

This new piece of information got swept under the rug as you continued to gaze up at the sky. The streetlight-less sky. As in, there is no light above you to light your path. In fact, as you tilted your head to look in front of you, there wasn’t a single streetlight on this side of the sidewalk.

Your face is contorted to one of amazement and terror as you slowly let your head fall down to your body. There, from under the thick raincoat, you could see a light shining from the bottom of the coat. Reaching for the clasp that you had used to close the coat previously, you then noticed that your hand was glowing. Not letting that stop you, you undid the clothing you stole only for a beam of light to escape from every corner that you opened.

You are, for lack of better terms, a fully lit Christmas tree. Every inch of your skin is glowing, and it was so strong that it was emitting through your nightgown creating a bright silhouette of your body underneath.

Squeaking in embarrassment, you tied the raincoat back up to try and shield away possible onlookers and save your dignity.

This is when the noise from before was taken out from under the rug and presented to you on a silver platter.

Whipping your head back up from gazing at the lighthouse that is now you, you twisted your body to stare at the reason for the clanking metal from before. There, a few yards away, was the Iron Man. From breaks in the suit you could see glimpses of a light shining through. The light that was no doubt emitting from your soulmate.

‘Oh god,’ you thought in bewilderment. This is the person you were destined to be with, the one you have cast away because of what his genius mind has done. The man you hate.

There the two of you are, separated only by a few steps in the night. You stand like a deer in headlights except you aren’t the deer but instead the headlight. He wasn’t doing anything, just looking at you from inside his dented-up mask.

‘Can I outrun this?’ The answer was no but that didn’t stop you.

You don’t know what it would be like to run in a marathon, but this might be a casting call. You went from headlights to car really quick as you ran as fast as you could down the street. Granted, you knew that outrunning him is impossible considering his clear advantage, and it also doesn’t help that you’re a thousand glowsticks taped together. But when the very man you have been running away from since the age of 16 is now behind you, any idea is worth taking a chance on than possibly encountering that wild Pokémon.

As could be expected, you didn’t make it very far. Deciding to chance a look behind you, and saw nothing there, you turned back around only to run full force into a wall. Except this wall is metal. And alive. And 100% not what you want to be dealing with on your birthday.

Falling on your butt from the sheer force that was the Iron Man, you couldn’t help but yelp as your tailbone seemed to get the worst hit. That’s going to hurt later.

So there you are, laying down on the cold New York sidewalk in a stolen hat and raincoat with nothing but your nightgown and fuzzy socks to keep you warm. Your heart was beating considerably faster, but whether that was from the run or the soulmate being in proximity, you were unsure.

He took a few steps back then released himself from his metal body, stepping out onto the brightly lit sidewalk. His face was a little banged up and wetsuit-type clothing in possession of some minor rips, but he was no doubt glowing as bright as a star. It seemed to be that by proximity, the shine that the two of you emitted was growing ever stronger as the distance was being closed.

Reaching his hand out, he gestured for you to take it as a means of being helped up off the dirty ground. Then, something twisted and snaped inside your heart. Your brain no longer clouded by adrenaline but of an equally powerful drug—rage.

“Hey--,” he began but was cut short as you slapped his hand away, perhaps with a little more force then necessary.

You watched as his face went from shock to confusion, like the mere thought of anyone touching him in a way that wasn’t gentle, was taboo. At the same time, the glow started to fade away, as if the skin contact was enough to flick a light switch into the off position. Within a few seconds of stunned silence, the only light remaining was of a distance streetlamp and the faint glow of the metal handicap within his chest.

Quickly getting up from the ground by yourself then taking a step back, you stood as tall as you could while in the presence of such a highly regarded individual. You hate him, for good reason, but he is still a man with power, lots of power.

Even after straightening your spine you can’t help but note he is a whole head taller than you, very contrary to what you believed from watching the TV. Additionally, the screen didn’t do justice to his good looks, up close he looked even more spectacular . . . wait, what?

He chuckled, “Okay, you’re probably confused. I get it, lot to take in.”

Whatever he was referring to, most likely the slap of his hand, you couldn’t care less. He was talking to you, the person you have been avoiding religiously, and you are saying nothing.

“Wow,” he continued. “You . . . you’re really here.”

What is there to say? At least a million and two things. You could start by introducing yourself, but that would defeat the point of remaining anonymous.

Tony released a breathless chuckle, his voice soft but charged with excitement, “I just can’t believe it. It’s—this is it! We’ve finally met.”

How do you explain to someone who thinks they’ve done nothing wrong that everything is wrong? That your life has been a rollercoaster of emotions and bad deals because of him? Anger boiled in your chest, but something was suppressing an outburst. You couldn’t pin your finger on the emotion, but it was strong.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You came back to reality as he asked you a question, staring at you expectingly.

His eyes looked . . . hopeful. Like a child has just been shown a bucket full of candy and the only thing that could damper their mood is to take the candy away.

You’re going to take the candy away.

Your tongue swept across your dry lips, readying your first words to this increasingly intimidating man. Perhaps the reason he was becoming intimidating was because you never actually planned for an accidental meeting. There was the thought that you would yell at him, scream, curse, give him an earful. Yet here you are, a thousand things to say but no words to say them. He is intimidating because you are in the presence of the great Tony Stark, and your mind has already built in a program explaining to you that he is nothing else but a celebrity on a screen. You and he have nothing in common—except you do. You two have a very big something in common.

“Forget . . . ,” you started, struggling to make words connect. “Forget that you saw me.”

This was for the best. If he really is your soulmate, he’d respect your wishes. Afterall, what are soulmates for if not servants to each other? Besides, this really is for the best. He’s oblivious to the pain he’s caused and is ignorant of the full story. As far as he’s probably concerned, this is the best day of his life. The first day of a long life spent with someone else, forever not alone.

His eyebrows knit together as he makes an interesting face that mimics a comical expression of confusion.

“I don’t follow. What’re you talking about?” He asks. “How am I supposed to forget something so captivating?”

The compliment goes over your head, too focused on managing this situation and tilting it into your desired path.

“This meeting shouldn’t be happening,” you struggle to maintain a steady heartbeat as your head began to drift down.

“I completely agree,” he replied.

Your head whips back up, shocked by his response. Did he understand? Is this some form of soulmate ability you’re unfamiliar with? Maybe this birthday is starting to brighten up.

A smirk is perched on his lips as he continued, “Dinner then? I didn’t mean for all this to happen while you were in your pajamas, so let’s start out fresh where we’re both prepared.”

The hope dies quickly as now you need to clarify what you meant.

“I was thinking about a steakhouse. You like steak? There’s this place that holds a constant reservation for me so--,” he was starting to talk again but you interrupted him.

“I don’t want to go out for dinner,” you tried to clarify.

He paused as his eyes showed something like a processor going through his brain.

“Yeah, good point. It’s a bit formal to start out with. Besides, probably best to avoid the crowds after the show I made,” he chuckled while pointing in the direction of the expo. “PR is going to have a field day. However, I do have to warn you, I make an impression everywhere I go.”

Towards the end of his statement he then made a motion to himself as if saying ‘I am Tony Stark, after all’.

The overinflated ego oozing out of this man was almost intoxicating, making it hard for you to breath. Not to forget that everything that was could out of your mouth was going over his head.

You tried to reinstate your point, “I don’t want to go out with you.”

This sent him into a moment of more analyzing, trying to decipher the latest bit of words you sputtered out. Everything you’ve said so far made sense to you, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him.

“Okay . . . I can work with that,” he paused. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you replied bluntly.

A few seconds passed by while both of you stood at an impasse. You’d like nothing more than to go back to your motel room and pretend none of this ever happened, but if you do this right, you’ll never have to worry about your relationship with Tony Stark ever again.

“Now why would you want something like that?” He asks suspiciously, slightly tilting his head to the right in curiosity.

Well? What’s your response? Sure, you have a reason (a damn good one at that), but is he worth reliving that terrible experience? Honesty is most likely the best response, but he just isn’t worth your time.

“Once upon a time I asked for this—a connection. But now, I don’t need it,” you sighed in frustration. “And frankly, I don’t want it.”

This took him back, not expecting someone to reject him. Him. Tony Stark. Surely rejection isn’t an often-had drink that he has.

“I’m not following,” he said, you could hear his voice raise in equally matched frustrations. “We’re meant to be together. That’s literally the whole idea of a soul—sorry, were you not educated on this topic?”

Your face changed into one that looked to be light anger, for this man who doesn’t know a thing about you, is questioning your knowledge.

“Yes, yes, I do know what soulmates are along with their premise. I don’t want one,” you solidify the statement with a subtle nod on your part, mentally confirming to yourself that this is what you wanted.

He seemed to almost scoff, “What? Fate has put us together; this is something you don’t just throw away. It’s something you accept, what everyone accepts.”

This bull is not going down without a fight, so it’s time to put your game face on. You tried to do this civilly, but if you need to play a little dirty, so be it. He should be familiar with the premise, considering his previous line of work resulted in the death of so many. The primary executioner of your father needs to know exactly how much you don’t need him.

“Yeah, just like how I accepted--,” you bit your tongue, the thought of your parents passing still stinging your heart. You almost slipped, almost admitting to him his own sins. Instead you say with a little wetness in your eyes, “I don’t owe you anything, nor an explanation. You’re just a problem I don’t need. Soulmates are your reality, Stark, not mine.”

The band aid has been ripped; you’ve given him your thoughts. And based on his silence, you’ve managed to say the right things. It only took a few moments after your statement, however, before he spoke again.

“Please rethink thi--,” he began softly, only to be cut off once more.

“I don’t need--,” here it is, the salt into the exposed wound. Time to cut the head off the snake. The venom was practically dripping down your chin as you finished your sentence, “--some overinflated ego telling me what my life is supposed to be like. This is my future, mine.”

In that moment, you felt something in your heart strain. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly couldn’t be ignored. And then, for a split second, you thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

No going back now.

[islayhawkin]

If you like this you'll probably like that p3

What they have in common:

Ninth house is literally the dark adult version of lockwood & co

GHOSTS

Lethe/The agency is responsible for containing ghosts

found family (a trio + a grumpy inspector)

Similar characters: inspector barnes = detective able turner, pamela dawes = george karim, darlington = lockwood, alex = lucy

Talking with/hearing ghosts

Spooky vibes but they have a cozy home

[berrypass-de-murdler]

3 - 1 Resorting to Murder

HOW THE HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL AM I ON THE THIRD BOOK

My WORD that artwork looks big fsr but FLETCH FINALLY LET ME FINISH UP RAD CRIMSON!! She doesn't look too scary here, but she is kind of a piece of shit in general

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Some static, like a tape was put into a VHS. The grainy picture starts reeling, curly letters appearing on old paper.

“WELCOME, AUDIENCE, TO THE ADVENTURE OF A LIFETIME!”

Rubber-hose versions of Logico and Irratino appear.

“THE UNSTOPPABLE DEDUCTIVE LOGICO AND THE ESOTERIC INSPECTOR IRRATINO WILL ACCOMPANY YOU ON THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE THIRD SERIES AND NINTH SEASON OF THE MURDLE CARTOON, FILLED WITH ADVENTURE, EXCITEMENT, AAAAAAND MURDER!”

More graphics appear.

“WILL DEDUCTIVE LOGICO SOLVE THE ICE-COLD MURDERS OF THE SKI RESORT? OR WILL HE DIE TRYING??”

“THE DEDUCTIVE’S GREAT GREAT GRANDFATHER WAS AN OLD WEST RANGER, WHO WILL EXPLORE AN ABANDONED MINE IN THIS EXCITING EXPANSION OF THE FRANCHISE!!”

“THE DRAMATIC RETURN TO NEW AEGIS WILL PROVE THIS MEGA-MURDLE™️A SUREFIRE EMMY AWARDS CONTENDER!”

“AND JUST WHEN YOU THINK IT CAN’T GET BIGGER, LOGICO HEADS TO THE FINAL FRONTIER, TO SAVE THE MURDER KINGDOM FROM AN ALIEN INVASION!!!!!”

“BUCKLE UP, IT’S ABOUT TO BEGIN! IN 5… 4… 3… 2…”

Deductive Logico fades out of his stupid dream. He accidentally fell asleep again. He throws himself awake and continues jotting down notes on the latest mysterious letter, the only clue left behind from the sudden closing of the Investigation Institute. 

The next morning, when Inspector Irratino wakes, he’s still at it.

IRRATINO: Logico? LOGICO: What. IRRATINO: Have you slept? LOGICO: No.

The goat slowly gets out of bed and wanders over to the desk. Countless sheets of paper are scattered everywhere, covered in furious scribbles.

LOGICO: I’m not going… to stop working… until I find what this means.

He continues to weakly write incoherent letters on the pages while Irratino gets dressed. He is barely awake, and about to collapse again. He turns around, and Irratino is suddenly in the most hideous clashing outfit he’s ever seen.

LOGICO: EW!! WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?? IRRATINO: I’m taking you on vacation. LOGICO: No you’re not! What kind of vacation would warrant THAT outfit??

Irratino is wearing a bright green button-up shirt, a long black skirt, and sheepskin boots, and his hair is up in a ponytail.

IRRATINO: It’s good to be prepared for all climates. But I saw a great ad for the ski resort, and it just made me want to go back there.  LOGICO: Go ahead… enjoy the hypothermia… IRRATINO: No you don’t, Logico. You’re coming with me. I’m not letting you waste another second on that letter until you’ve relaxed. LOGICO: You’re not the boss of me… IRRATINO: Who does all your money come from? LOGICO: …

So he doesn’t have a choice. Irratino takes him to the ski resort. They immediately run into two humans - one is dead, and the other is Uncle Midnight.

U. MIDNIGHT: LOGIC, my man! I haven’t seen you in forever, the fuck you been doin’? 

He picks him up and gives him a strangling hug.

LOGICO: Wow. I am enjoying myself so much.  IRRATINO: Oh.

Two seconds into their supposed vacation, the boys have to solve a murder. Archaeologist Ecru is there, for some reason.

ECRU: Hey mate. I’m looking for rocks. They say there’s real gold around here, but I don’t believe ‘em. LOGICO: Then why are you looking? ECRU: …To prove ‘em wrong. LOGICO: Okay… and since when do you ski? U. MIDNIGHT: I don’t. Huhuhuh. Too much work. I just lounge in the freezing cold like a boss. Oh yeah but there is this new person I NEVER seen before, so you might wanna keep an eye on 'em. LOGICO: Who, Ecru? U. MIDNIGHT: Nuh, that one.

A flurry of snow sprays everyone in the face as a silhouette comes racing in - is someone skiing UPhill? And they takes off their helmet and flip their hair.

SUNFLOWER: Heyy~ ECRU: What, you think you’re hot or somethin’? SUNFLOWER: Ooh, who’s this girl~ Sounds like somebody’s JEALOUS~ U. MIDNIGHT: Fight! Fight! Fight! ECRU: Shut up, boy. SUNFLOWER: Oh no! The little girl is afraid~

Ecru sees the stupid squiggles they use instead of periods and has had enough. She shoves them over.

U. MIDNIGHT: Yessss

Logico tries to look for clues, but it’s hard with the snake and whatever Sunflower is swinging fists at each other nonstop. Ecru grabs Sun’s face and throws them into the restaurant.

U. MIDNIGHT: YEEEAAHHHHHH ECRU: Have a sip of this.

She tosses some hot chocolate at the supposed ski deity.

SUNFLOWER: Oh fuck that~

They dump an entire bowl of soup on Ecru’s head.

ECRU: AAAAAAUGH! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!

Sunflower prances away with a giant grin on their face. 

U. MIDNIGHT: COME ON MANNN SUNFLOWER: What’s the matter? I know it’s hard to be alone~

They wraps their scarf around him.

SUNFLOWER: But maybe THIS, will help you feel better~

Benjamin ignores them and goes to see Ecru instead.

U. MIDNIGHT: You coulda beat the stupid person! ECRU: Ughh, I KNOW ALREADY!  LOGICO: I don’t care who ‘won’. I care about who did the fucking murder!! U. MIDNIGHT: Oh. That was me. LOGICO: Seriously?? U. MIDNIGHT: We had a dispute about resort fees! LOGICO: What dispute?? U. MIDNIGHT: He wanted me to pay ‘em, and I didn’t!

He sticks his tongue out and runs away like the mature adult he is, and Logico glares at Irratino.

LOGICO: I don’t… want… a vacation. IRRATINO: Chin up, Logico. I promise we're gonna be alright.

The end! 

if anyone has any design ideas for Sunflower lmk, I'm really stuck for some reason 😭 I only know what their hair and feet look like

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[space-xaller]

I thought for a long time what to draw for the seventh, eighth and tenth days, in the end I decided to skip the eighth and tenth days, since the themes were "Day & Night" / "Hike" and "The Grounds" / "Nomadic", that is, Xaler would again just walk around the Grounds and it would be boring, but for the seventh day, the themes were "Stage" and "Passport". And from the first episode I was wondering why they don't perform at all, if they are literally in a circus. So I'm fixing it! And then Xaler and Pawnsy ( @house-in-country OC) participate in improvisation: Pawnsy plays the role of an inspector at the airport, and Xaler plays a passenger who lost passport. Caine seems to appreciate the joke, as does the jester in the audience ... Yes, I decided make a @art-stardust OC teaser! 👀

Yes, initially I planned to show the OCs of my friends instead of the main characters, but they are not ready yet, so for now I'm getting by as best I can!😁

I hope I can show them later!^^

P.S.: and yes, to make the joke work, I drew humanizations of Caine and Bubble

Well, the next, ninth day is also dedicated to our creepy clown from Stardust!

Themes "Sun" and "Jester". I think the Rammstein song is perfect here!)

[lemon-natalia]

Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 21

i wanna see just what the building inspectors report for Canaan House would look like

oh no, not Camilla and Palamedes :( killed by gunshots again, and they apparently got shot next to eachother at such short range, i really don’t know what to make of all of this

Dulcinea!!! is this one also Cytherea? but then her cavalier can speak this time, soo

hmm Ortus seems very very angry about Pro for some reason - for more than his habit of giving dramatic poetry readings? hmm

‘it must have been traumatic to see his only cultivated personality trait co-opted’ omfg Harrow’s such a dick, i love her for it

anyway, if these are current Lyctor Harrow’s fake memories, i know Abigail and Magnus have gotta die soon since they did in the last book, but still not ready for it!

another piece of flimsy with a dramatic message on it. the phrase ‘she asked me to’ is coming back, after the Body said it to Harrow, huh. referring to a ‘him’ and two others this time.

omfg its a drawing of that weird S symbol 😭😭 i guess thats eternal no matter where you are

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, Bonus Material: The Unwanted Guest

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the fandom goes wild.

Laid out as a stageplay, surely setting us up (one might say, setting the scene) for impromptu fan performances, Tamsyn Muir gave us just one bonus in the Nona paperback, but it's a doozy. I am operating under the assumption that you have read (or listened to a fan assembled live or recorded performance of) the whole play in my comments. If you haven't, you can now read it yourself here for free!

Scene One

The stage is set: a funeral, with seven coffins, a row of six and one at the front distinguished from its fellows by its many gold and violet flowers(1) and wreaths, and being propped open at the top. A tray of meat sits on the closed bottom. Mourners(2) in gaudy masks take a piece of meat, then lean into the open head, though the view obscures whether they're kissing or feeding the presumed corpse.(3)

Palamedes Sextus is the final mourner in the line, his mask plain, wooden, shattered and pieced back together. He almost looks like he belongs. As the last mourners file out, he considers the meat, skips it,(4) and reaches into the coffin.

A hand grabs his arm and the corpse sits upright. It's IANTHE TRIDENTARIUS. Her face is covered in bloody kisses. Ianthe You're fucked, my lad. The lights go out.

Scene Two

The room is now empty, except for a fireplace with no fire, and the door at the back. Ianthe stands by the fireplace, dressed as a butler. Pal enters, in a ruined grey suit with a purple tie,(5) though his body isn't apparently injured at all.

Pal is calling upon "the lady of the house", for at least the second time. Ianthe-butler says "the master's answer"(6) won't have changed. Pal would still like to hear that for himself, and offers a whole skeletal hand(7) when Ianthe-butler asks for his card. Ianthe-butler says "If you'd be so good as to stay here", and steps out through the door.

Pal faces the audience at the front of the stage. He speaks of the grammar of "if", and how sometimes it's used for permission and sometimes used to command while pretending to acknowledge another person's agency.

In the background, Ianthe returns, now dressed in an "ooh-la-la" maid costume with "an enormous purple feather duster",(8) flicking it at the dead fireplace. Pal continues his monologue on "if", finishing with the assertion that the phrasing Ianthe-butler used is over-the-top in its politeness, so it circles back to being rude again.

Palamedes A pretty silk glove over a fist of iron. Or, in this case, gold. He turns to the maid for the first time. Palamedes Don't you think? Ianthe No, sir.

Ianthe-maid curtseys and leaves, stage right.(9) Pal is examining the dead fireplace when the butler returns through the door, and says the master will see him in "the Almond Room". (10) Pal doesn't move, but robed figures wheel the coffins from the first scene back in, now numbered 1 through 7, standing upright in a semicircle in the center of which is placed a chaise longue.(11) Pal pays no attention to the action.

The door opens again and Ianthe enters, this time in a rather daringly unbuttoned shirt and a pair of leather trousers, plus a Lyctoral rainbow robe draped over her shoulders.(12) The whole affect is louche;(13) she carries a small clutch bag. Ianthe walks over to the chaise longue and drapes herself across it artistically.

Having made her true entrance, Ianthe says it's so good of the "Inspector" to call so late.(14) He says it's not that late, she affirms that it is quite late, given how he's in tatters and can't last much longer. Pal says she's been saying that for the last three visits.

Ianthe asks what Pal wants. He says the same thing he's been asking for, the body of Naberius Tern. Ianthe finally agrees that he shall have it, if he can win a simple game. Pal is surprised, but goes along with it. She says he only has to guess which of the seven coffins, after asking her no more than five questions, none of which can be directly asking which coffin he's in or anything about the coffins themselves. He debates with her about how many questions it would take under those other circumstances, and she observes that he must have been great fun at parties.(15)

Palamedes asks his first question unintentionally: will Ianthe play fair? She says she never does, and he has four left.

Palamedes pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, turns away, and walks downstage. The curtain falls behind him--leaving him alone with the audience. Palamedes Ianthe's sparkling personality aside . . . this doesn't really make much sense. A new VOICE answers from the back of the auditorium. We do not see the speaker.(16)

The voice asks why it doesn't make sense. Pal says logic questions depend on a set of rules, and Ianthe hasn't set any. The voice suggests thinking more broadly, because logic isn't the important piece here: psychology is.

Pal almost talks himself out of this, but then the voice asks what would happen if he asked Ianthe to pick a number from one to seven. Pal realizes she likely would pick that number, trying to outfox him.(17) The voice says it won't be quite that easy, but Pal can get Ianthe to open herself up unintentionally and expose herself so he can get the answer. Pal nods and turns back to the stage as the curtains rise.

Voice I mean, more than she's already exposing herself with that shirt. (Pause) I'm kind of into the trousers, though.(18)

Scene Three

The curtain rises on the same scene as before--seven upright coffins, chaise longue, Ianthe--except that a robed and masked figure is now standing beside each of the coffins. Palamedes walks upstage to stand next to the chaise longue.

Palamedes says he has his first question. Ianthe corrects him, second, but invites him to ask. Pal asks if Ianthe believes in "the permeability of the soul?" Ianthe is dismissive, as the robed figures move the coffins. They place coffins 2 and 6 on their backs on either side of the chaise. Pal sits on coffin 6 awkwardly, as an attendant crowns Ianthe with ivy and sprays her with perfume, and another puts a gold cup in her hand and fills it from a gold jug.(19)

Ianthe wanted Pal to ask something more fun, maybe something sexual in nature. The attendants offer Pal a cup, but he covers it with his hand before they pour anything in.

Ianthe (Despairingly) You don't even drink! Palamedes In my defence: I'm dead, and this wine doesn't exist.

Ianthe suggests this improves it, as the false can have a "piquancy"(20) that the real lacks. Pal asks if that's a quote from something, and Ianthe, acting increasingly drunk,(21) goes on about pétillance(22) and asks if Pal's "tingue" ever "toungle[d]" when he was alive. Pal says they're not here to talk about his tongue, and makes to repeat his question, but Ianthe remembers. She addresses the attendants to say there's nothing the Sixth won't turn into a seminar, and she "shudders to imagine their pillow talk." Pal says "pillow talk is a science" on the Sixth, and Ianthe responds that she's not interested.

Getting back to the matter at hand, Ianthe admits(23) she does not believe in permeability of the soul. Pal asks if that means she believes "that the soul is both indivisible and impermeable", which she does. He asks if Ianthe believes the soul is malleable, can be altered or deformed. Ianthe says it must be so, or a revenant wouldn't behave as it does. Pal asks then if the soul is only imperfectly elastic, able to return to its original shape. Ianthe agrees to this as well

Pal summarizes: one would expect that a revenant would act like a newborn child in its behaviour, but there are cases where revenants clearly act in ways informed by their adult lives.(24) Ianthe accepts this, and with no reference made to the query about being in agreement being Pal's last question.(25)

Thus, Pal comes back to his original question: if you accept that the soul can be changed, and never fully recover, does it not follow that it can be diminished as well? Ianthe says that's not at all given. Pal says that surprises him, because most objects that can be deformed can be diminished. He compares it to a stone and a sculptor shaping it, and the stone can't regrow what was chipped off, and indeed someone who works around stone work will wear a mask to avoid breathing in the stone dust and damaging himself.

Tried beyond her patience, Ianthe takes off her garland and flings it irritably across the stage.

Ianthe can't do it anymore(26) and says the soul cannot be diminished because it's the underpinning of Lyctorhood. If the soul could be diminished, it couldn't be the perpetual fuel for the Lyctor's power, and only a soul can be used without being consumed in the process. Pal says that they don't know it, but Ianthe says she's a Lyctor, and she studied under Augustine who was a Lyctor for ten thousand years, and Pal has no idea.

Pal suggests that the rate of decay might be infinitesimally small, a soul might last a hundred thousand years before anyone noticed a change. Ianthe dismisses this as lacking evidence. Pal keeps trying to argue, but Ianthe says she's eaten a soul, and he hasn't.

Palamedes So your best argument boils down to "I know more about this than you do." Ianthe It's a very strong argument. Unless we get into "what's it like to be weirdly codependent with your dead-eyed cousin," I'm more or less guaranteed to win. Minions! Clear all of this garbage away; my guest has to go and take some deep breaths for a while.

The attendants move forward, and Pal walks to the edge of stage so the curtain can come down once more, hiding the action behind him. He says that went well, but the voice says the argument went nowhere.

Palamedes Ouch. Voice Sorry, babe, I can't compliment-sandwich this.(27)

Pal says it wasn't nowhere, he has a better idea of Ianthe's philosophical stances, and he thinks he can exploit them. The voice asks if jumping into Ianthe's "pet body" was Camilla's idea.(28) It continues that the Third are very good at giving people what they think they want, and Pal's best bet might be to stop asking Palamedes-questions, which she expects, and start asking Ianthe-questions. Pal isn't good at those, but the voice encourages him: play to your own weakness, everything here is Ianthe. Pal protests, not the bit that's Naberius Tern, which the voice points out is the part Pal is trying to find.

Palamedes considers this. Palamedes Ianthe questions. Okay. He turns upstage as the curtain begins to rise. Voice I believe in you. Palamedes (Over his shoulder) You didn't always. I had to fight for that.

Scene Four

The curtain rises on the stage, reset, with Ianthe on her chaise once more. The order of the coffins is now changed to 7-2-3-4-5-6-1.(29) Ianthe asks if Pal is feeling better, Pal says he doesn't feel much of anything, being dead, but he has his next question.

Ianthe Oh, Lord. Something juicy about pneumatic apocope,(30) I expect. I feel like I'm playing strip poker with Harrow; shyly unbuttoning her baggy black robe to reveal a baggier, blacker robe(31) underneath . . . (Pause) Yuck. I hope that hasn't awakened anything in me.(32)

Instead, Pal asks if Ianthe regrets murdering Babs. All seven attendants strike the lids of their respective coffins, once, together, then pick up coffins 2-3 and 5-6 and form waist-high barriers on either side of the stage by stacking them. Pal stands behind the one on the left, Ianthe behind the right, facing center stage.(33)

Ianthe gets a little up in arms over calling it murder. Pal says if she has another word for killing "intentionally and with malice aforethought," he'd be glad to switch. Ianthe says there was no malice involved.

Palamedes slams both hands down flat on the lid of the upper coffin, then thrusts his arm out to point an accusing finger at Ianthe.(34)

Pal accuses Ianthe of avoiding the question.

Ianthe is somewhat taken aback. So, after a second, is Palamedes.(35)

Ianthe asks why Pal did that, but Pal doesn't know. Still, he gets back on topic, and asks if Ianthe really denies she murdered Babs. No, it's a fair enough accusation,(36) but society is really to blame.(37) The cavalier's whole purpose is to die for the necromancer, though Cam's got "an element of horse/stable door confusion".(38)

Pal counters that the cav's role is to protect their necromancer, so what did Tern die to protect, Ianthe's ambitions? Ianthe says she is the sum of her ambitions, and that's why she and "Harry" are Lyctors, and Pal is "a little bag of bones."(39) Pal suggests Ianthe must be a real catch for salespeople, because she never stops to look at the price tag. If she came into his shop, he'd triple the cost of everything, and Ianthe would be too careless to notice the label swap. Ianthe retorts that if Pal came into her shop, she'd have security throw him out when he tried to haggle.

Ianthe states outright: the cost is the cost, and if blood must be shed, you demean yourself by arguing over how much. Pal asks if that's her answer, then, that Tern had to die, so she regrets nothing? Ianthe pivots and says she was very fond of him, and she thinks he was fond of her.

Pal is surprised, and Ianthe says Babs had some good points. He was always a good source of drama, for example. His tragedy was that he looked like he should be very interesting, but he never was. He was loyal, though it was to Coronabeth. He was sworn to serve before Ianthe and Corona were even conceived,(40) but he never shirked his obligation to it. Not like Harrow's original cav, who couldn't come to Canaan House because he was too sad. Pal says he heard it was because he got blown up, and Ianthe says yes, blown up for being too sad. And look at Abigail Pent, bringing her husband, and where did she get?(41)

Pal is flabbergasted. He says, so Ianthe was raised with Babs, since before Pal even knew Cam, and she still doesn't regret killing him? Ianthe pauses, then says no, and claps her hands.

Ianthe (Brightly) That's all, folks!(42) Back after the break.

Pal wanders downstage, distracted, as the curtains descend behind him.

Palamedes Do you know the worst part? Voice Tell me. Palamedes From her point of view, it all makes sense. Tern was shaped over years to be nothing more than--than-- Voice A perfect tool? Palamedes --a resource.(43) Something to be saved up and then spent at just the right moment. [...] Voice (Reproachfully) Cam would have smiled at "perfect tool." Palamedes Yes--she would have.(44)

A long paragraph is spent describing Pal pulling out, lighting, and smoking a cigarette. The voice draws attention to it, which makes Pal stare, with no described emotion or expression, at the cigarette between his fingers.

The voice brings him back, asking if he has any ideas for his last two questions. Still distracted, he says he thinks he does. The voice warns, he needs to use these wisely. If he doesn't turn up something, he'll lose. At this, Pal comes back to himself, drops and stomps on the cigarette, wipes his hand on his jacket. He wishes he had more time to think. As he turns away, the voice says he "used to say that a lot."

Scene Five

The stage is back to neutral, but the coffins in order 3-2-7-4-1-6-5. Ianthe asks Pal if he's had any insight. Pal asks what Ianthe made of Gideon Nav, at Canaan House. Ianthe asks why the curveball, and Pal says he had a question to spare, and was curious. Ianthe is reluctantly kind of proud of Pal's sudden trash talk.

The attendants take coffins 3, 2, 7, and 4, making a rectangle of them on the stage, a dueling ring. Attendants bring two rapiers, offering the more ornate to Ianthe, who accepts, and the less ornate to Pal, who refuses politely. The attendant is confused but takes up a dueling stance with Ianthe in the ring.

Ianthe asks where she should begin on "sweet Gubbins."(45) Pal asks for first impressions. Ianthe and the attendant duel, the latter poorly. Another attendant takes the place. Ianthe says she was intrigued, because everyone else was exactly on script for their Houses. Harry playing her part to the hilt, but Gideon dawdling behind her? Not the Ninth brand.

Palamedes "Harry"? Ianthe It's my little name for her, you know. Palamedes I can't think of a single thing she'd hate more. Ianthe You lack imagination.

Another duel with an attendant, another win to Ianthe. Pal asks what was off. Ianthe says, well, everything! The sunglasses, the vow of silence she only barely kept, the way she handled her sword. She accuses Gideon of wandering around "like she was the protagonist and we were all there to give her something to look at."(46)

Another duel, another win. Pal asks when Ianthe knew she'd underestimated Gideon. Ianthe says she estimated Gideon Nav exactly right from the first moment she laid eyes on her: a hilarious moron. Pal suggests Gideon "was smarter than even she realised."(47) Ianthe is dismissive: Gideon lived and died a dope.

Another duel, another win. Ianthe says that's all Pal will get out of her on this one. Pal says it was "tremendously helpful" actually, and thanks her. Ianthe looks suspicious, but Pal is already walking downstage, his hands in his pockets, the curtain already falling.

Voice Poor Gideon. I think she sounded fun. Palamedes Mm. You'd have liked her, I suspect. I did, once I stopped being jealous.(48) Voice Can you do this with one more question?

Pal stares at the audience for a moment, and says he thinks so, though he'd have liked less... the voice supplies, psychology, and he agrees. The voice, addressing Pal as "my child", says "there's no shame in a bluff."

Pal, on the subject of shame, says he does feel ashamed of rooting around in a dead man's body like this. He didn't like Tern, but the man deserved better than this fate.

Voice "Use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?"(49) Palamedes (Surprised) I like that. Is it from something? Voice Yes. It's complicated.

Pal asks if she still thinks of him as a child. Her problem was always reminding herself that he was one, as she told him often. He apologizes for not saving or avenging her or Pro. She says she couldn't save Pal either, and Cytherea was so fast, Pro couldn't even touch her. And, at least "we both"(50) were killed by the same person. Pal isn't comforted. The voice says it'll work out "in the wash."

Pal says he wants to believe, so much, that she is who she says she is, but she can't possibly be here. He asks how she did it. She says she gambled on the truth,(51) then died.

Palamedes You died . . . again? Voice Truly, wonderful news for my haters.(52)

Pal asks if he can know what happened. The voice says yes, but she's not allowed to tell. It was awful, "in the old sense of the word."(53) Pal asks if she can give him something. She describes a letter Pal wrote that delighted her.

It convinces him, and he tells her, though she says he doesn't have to, that he loved her, still loves her, and would have loved to learn to love her better. She says it would have been beautiful, and "Camilla would have had to cook."(54) But she didn't just want beautiful, she wanted it to last, and knew it could never. She didn't want to steal Pal's youth and potential for love away from him.

Palamedes This again? From you and her both?(55) That merely by loving you, I added to your torments? Voice (Encouragingly) Yes, and also my agonies. Palamedes Dulcinea . . .

Dulcinea, finally named by the structure, says that Pal and Cam were her best friends, and she "loved real, ugly, unfinished things." There's a freedom in being incomplete. Now she's not in the River, and will never be again.(56) Pal says if she's on the shore, he can find her. She asks which shore. Pal asks her pardon. Dulcinea says a river has two shores(57) and he might find that out for himself if it ends well.(58)

Pal asks to see her. She asks if he's sure. He is.

Blackout on the stage. Then a light on Palamedes--a Palamedes who is completely dazzled, and staring blankly outward, at nothing in particular.

Pal recites a Bible verse(59), then the lights black out again, then return to normal. Behind him, the curtain starts to rise.

Dulcinea Was I cute? Palamedes turns and moves upstage. Palamedes You're perfect.(60)

Scene Six

The stage is back to neutral, the coffins replaced but reversed, leaving the order 4-7-2-3-1-6-5.

Ianthe says the tension is killing her, or really, killing Hect. Pal says he has a question left. Ianthe says it better be a whopper, because right now she estimates he has nothing upon which to base an answer. Pal asks if she's ready, and Ianthe makes fun of him for it.

Pal asks, if Babs had died at Canaan House, before completing the Eightfold Word, would Ianthe have eaten Corona instead?

The attendants all hit their coffin lids together, once, then pick up the last three coffins and set them in the middle of the stage, like two benches and a table. Pal sits on the left hand one, Ianthe on the right, where she gets a pack of cards from an attendant and starts shuffling slowly. Throughout the scene, they play and pick up cards.(61)

Ianthe says it would be "rather peculiar" to eat Corona, seeing as she's not a cavalier. Pal doesn't understand why. Ianthe explains that the cavalier's spirit is not just a power source, it's the Lyctor's body's defence system when their consciousness is elsewhere. Pal knew that much. Ianthe says her sister is not a swordwoman. She'd have lost to Magnus, not as a cavalier, but as he is now.

Pal says Corona's compatibility as a power source would have been even higher than Tern's, and surely you could train some more sword skill into the cav's spiritual remains. Ianthe says that no, the cavalier is essentially frozen at the moment of death. Pal wonders...

Ianthe Oh, no. We're not going through this again. The soul is a diamond, Sextus. You can leave it in a glass of wine for as long as you like, it's never going to soak anything up. Palamedes (Mildly) I thought you objected to analogies.(62)

Ianthe says the point is that she wouldn't have used Corona to finish the job. So, Pal asks what else she would have done, perhaps using someone else's cav. Ianthe says that would be terribly inefficient. Pal says, better than nothing, and she'd still be a Lyctor. And, Harrow's situation was "unorthodox" but she still has power on a scale her mortal self couldn't have dreamed of. Ianthe admits, alright, she might have used another cav, and starts going through the others available to her.

Pal pulls Ianthe out of that line of thought and back to the subject at hand. Now, he wishes Ianthe to imagine a situation where things at Canaan House went almost as wrong as they could have, Cytherea coming up the steps, and Ianthe and Corona the only survivors, the Eightfold Word on Ianthe's lips. Does she fold or raise?

Ianthe refuses. She says Pal couldn't understand the bond between twins. Pal, for his part, says that won't work on him this time, and demands to know why Ianthe's answer. Ianthe says nothing.

Pal continues that Ianthe has stated that the goal is always worth the cost, so either that was bravado, and there are costs Ianthe won't pay, or Corona is part of her goal. Will Ianthe tell him which it is?

Ianthe plays her last card. Softly, she says Pal can believe what he will, but she's won: he has no idea which coffin Babs's body is in. She stands, and an attendant clears the cards. Pal says she hasn't answered the question, but she insists she has: no, she wouldn't have killed Corona, and she doesn't have to justify that answer.

Pal stands, and the attendants put all the coffins back, again in reverse order, leaving 4-7-2-3-5-6-1, then all leave the stage, leaving Pal and Ianthe alone. Pal says he has one last question, it's yes-or-no and if Ianthe can answer it, he'll surrender immediately. Ianthe is suspicious, but Pal insists, all he needs is for her to be able to say yes or no. A question about Naberius.

Ianthe accuses Pal of trying to buy time, but Pal says if that were the case, he'd start another argument about how souls work.

Ianthe So, what--if I can't answer this question of yours, am I expected to do the decent thing? Applaud politely and retire? Palamedes Ianthe, I've been in your head for what feels like a week. I would never insult you by expecting you to do anything either decent or polite. Ianthe inclines her head in graceful acceptance of this point.

Pal says she has nothing to lose by answering, and she owes him a question from before.(63) Ianthe says she owes him nothing, but they look at each other, and she gives in, and tells him to ask. Pal's final question is whether Ianthe knows where Babs's body is.

The two move to stand at either end of the row of coffins. Pal starts explaining how the little signs, like the purple tie, started to tip him off, but he assumed it was Ianthe setting the rules. He opens coffin 4, which is empty.

Really, it was the cigarettes that did it. They don't exist on the Sixth, because of the fire hazards. He has never learned how to smoke, but he did it by reflex. Ianthe opens coffin 1, empty again.

Pal continues his exposition, that he wasn't sure until question four. He opens coffin 7, next one in, empty again. He asks how Ianthe knew that Gideon used her rapier like a racquet. Ianthe protests, she saw Gideon fight, but Pal got the full details from Cam, and by the time Ianthe showed up at the end, Gideon had her two-hander back.

Ianthe says she might have watched the duels. Pal says it's not possible, as Gideon only fought two duels, and Ianthe wasn't in the room for them, nor at any other time Gideon might have used her rapier. Ianthe says Babs and Corona both told her about it. Pal says that's unlikely, at least in such detail as about the racquet. It's not even a comparison Ianthe would make.

But it is the one Babs might.

Ianthe opens coffin 6, empty. Pal continues that Ianthe expresses little to no respect for rules, but in her ranting about Gideon, she said Gideon didn't know how to duel as a negative. But, Ianthe Tridentarius would have found that punch at the end of their fight funnier than anyone. He opens coffin 2, empty.

Palamedes You only got one question wrong, Ianthe, and it was the very first question. You can't admit what's happened here because you're fixated on this idea of the soul as inviolate and inviolable--this perfectly solid, impervious thing, the diamond sitting in the glass of wine. But souls are permeable. When they rub up against each other, they bleed--they mingle--they contaminate each other. Just from the handful of real-life seconds I've spent wrestling you for Naberius's body, I've picked up the knowledge of how to light a cigarette and a disturbing new enjoyment of trash talk. Ianthe opens the lid of coffin number 5. It's empty. She and Palamedes are now facing each other from a few feet apart, standing on either side of the last remaining closed coffin, number 3.

Pal says it's messier than he expected. He's started remembering things he never saw, from Cam's point of view, just from spending a few months in her body. Lyctorhood isn't swapping out a battery, it's a transplant. When she took Babs into herself, she ate a piece of meat, and that meat is digesting and its component parts mixing in with hers, to become indistinguishable. He knocks on the lid of coffin 3, and says if he's wrong, if Babs's body is inside, Pal will end his career "with a truly spectacular cock-up" and death will be welcome. If it isn't, then it's nowhere.

Palamedes turns downstage and starts to walk away from the coffins. Ianthe remains staring at coffin number 3. Palamedes There's no body left to find, Ianthe. Or, as I gather they call you now . . . Ianthe Naberius.(64) Palamedes keeps walking, away from the stage toward the back of the auditorium. Ianthe stands like a statue next to coffin number 3. She reaches out and places one hand against its closed lid as the curtain falls.

=====

(1) Our first hint at the occupant, really. Violet eyes, gold arm, and the gaudiness (affectionate) of the Third House in general. (2) Who are the mourners? The robed figures? For that matter, who are the audience? We have Ianthe, we have Palamedes, we have Dulcie in the audience from kind of across the River. Does that imply something about the audience versus the mourners as representing different things? Are they all just figments of Ianthe's imagination, background characters of her life, or is this something more? (Knowing what we do, probably both.) (3) What did you assume it is? I don't think the bloody kisses actually answer the question very satisfactorily, because, from whence cometh the blood? I do love the symbolism of the meat platter though, because that's all Babs ever was, and Ianthe is still eating him up. (4) Pal passing on Babs's meat is perfection, to me. He does consider it, maybe because of the desire not to stand out, maybe because of permeability starting to influence, maybe just because he's not yet aware of what it means. But he decides against it, because he's the last one there, because unconsciously he knows it's not his impulse to eat, because he recognizes on some level that Ianthe's meat platter is and has only ever been Babs. (5) Funny how much this stands out on immediate reread, eh? (6) The lady of the house, the master of the house, just another play on the gender fluidity that's easy for the eye to slip past. (7) I can't help but feel that this is related to Harrow's scene with Cam in HTN. See, Pal's soul was anchored to part of his skull. But if you recall, Harrow was spinning it out into a skeleton, starting with a hand. And I can't pinpoint right now, but I think I recall someone in the fandom wondering if the powder that caused Paul's transformation in the end derived from Pal's bones, even though he was at that point anchored fully to Cam. But, either way, the hand feels meaningful here. Hands so often are in this series.

(8) So, one reason I gesture at this is because the purple accents continue throughout, and it's impossible to ignore them with the Tridentarius natural eye colour being the most obvious parallel. The second reason is because Pal isn't the only one who picks up pieces of his companion in this sequence: Pal specifically said he finds the outfits nurses wear sexy, but those are so close to the stereotypical maid outfits as to justify a little eyebrow raising at Ianthe picking up a piece of Pal, I think. The final reason I gesture at the feather duster is because it's described as "enormous" specifically in the text. How big do you think it is? How big do you think you could make a prop for this performance? Grab a few purple feather boas at the Spirit Hallowe'en or something this autumn, fold them in half, tie them at the fold point to a sturdy stick. Just, you know, in case anyone's thinking about a cosplay, since this will be the defining feature. (9) I'd love to see a deeper examination from someone with theater experience as to what the stage directions might indicate, the comings and goings from each wall. (10) Why is it almonds? Is this a reference to a piece of media, a name of a nut as one or both go "nuts", or something else? I saw a compelling argument that it's related to the amygdala, two almond-shaped lobes in the brain that relate to memory, decision making, and emotion processing. (11) A note: not a lot of Americans in particular ever hear the original pronunciation of this word, so for the wise, it's "shayz", not "chase" or any of the other ways I've heard it. "Long" isn't quite the same as the French "longue" (it's got a sort of w in there, lowng, with the g a little more present) but it's close enough. It's "chaise" that really got the short end of loanwording. (I'm not saying anyone has to change how they do it, language is defined by use, not by origin, but a "chaise longue" comes from literally being a long chair in French, and if anyone DOES want to honour the original pronunciation over where it's gone, I want to help them.)

(12) I have no idea what this is referencing, but I feel sure that it is evoking something. An outfit of Augustine's that I can't find referenced in the text? Generally the male leads on historical romance novels, to play again with gender presentation? Some other specific thing? (13) Louche - indecent, disreputable. Think a neighbourhood of dive bars. (14) Flipping the script, keeping Pal off his guard as much as she can by jumping around a story and reassign the roles and the lines. (15) We know he actually probably was fun at parties, because according to the Cohort Intelligence Files, Judith met him at one once, and thought he wasn't serious enough about his role and title. Which, given that Judith has had a stick up her ass her entire life about duty (again, affectionate) I think we can take to mean that he was genuinely trying to be personable and fun at the party. (16) Dulcie is literally and figuratively separated from the stage, just as her spirit is now, apparently, if she's to be trusted, across the River. Does that mean beyond the stoma, or is there a more literal-figurative other bank? Is it that distance from the situation that gives her this insight, or was she always this good at reading people? (I'm asking here now to save myself another footnote later. Conservation of energy.) (17) Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. This little sequence gives me very third-party Princess Bride vibes, though it's far from exclusive to that title. (18) Dulcinea, you naughty lady, I love this for you.

(19) I'm currently ignoring all symbolism that might be contained in the numerology of the doors because I don't understand it and I haven't seen anyone unravel it. However, I do feel like I'm right on the edge of recognizing what the ivy crown and perfume are supposed to represent. Ivy was often associated with Dionysus, the god of wine, fertility, ecstasy. The indulgence of the perfume and the further pouring of an ambiguous liquid into a goblet hints toward this end of things, but ivy was also a crown for Thalia, the muse of comedy, which would be perhaps even more apropos given the stage play of it all. But also, ivy was known outside Greek influence to be associated with fidelity and marriage, because it's green year-round and cleaves so sweetly and strongly to that upon which it grows. And all of these layers, every single one, comes back to permeability of the soul, and Ianthe's consumption of Babs, despite her skepticism. (20) Piquant - having a sharp or otherwise stimulating flavour. (21) I feel confident that this is what's intended by the tingue toungle bit, the implication that Ianthe might be getting drunk on her false wine, or at least is pretending she might. (22) Pétillance is much as Ianthe describes it, a light sparkle in a drink, or a sense of very mild fresh tingling from a very low carbon dioxide concentration. (23) OK I really haven't seen anyone mention this before but there's a fascinating thing going on with quotation marks as Ianthe replies here. Her direct responses to Pal, that she does not believe in permeability, all the way through to her aside, it's all in extra quotation marks, which Pal's statements don't have. (24) Pal was personally privy to one in the Doctor Sex story, after all. (25) Yes, I counted. Didn't you? It's very gracious of her to let all this stand as the one question for the sake of the narrative. (26) And here, indeed, is where the mysterious scare quotes end.

(27) I bet NONE of us guessed that this line belonged to Dulcinea when Tor did the pre-reveal puzzle. (28) Ah, but Dulcie, they've been slowly becoming Paul all this time. (29) I know I said I'm ignoring all the numerology, but I find it interesting that 7 and 1 are the only swap here, when Pal has just agreed to try to be more Ianthe. (30) This one's tricky. It's not an actual condition. In modern usage pneumatic just means engineering relating to air and air pressure, like pneumatic tires. But likely here it relates to the lungs (like pneumonia). And "apocope"… now that's a real puzzler, because it means the loss of the final sound or vowel in the pronunciation of a word. But, it comes from the Greek term for cutting off, like an amputation. So, I think Ianthe is referring to cutting out of the lungs. (31) I don't have the full context, and search engines are… really, really bad right now, but I do know that "a bigger, blacker dick" is a white response card in Cards Against Humanity, meant to outdo the card "a big black dick", and outdone itself only by the card "the biggest, blackest dick". This game was very popular a decade or so ago, because we were all edgelord jerks. (Yes, I have regrets.) At any rate, I assume they got the reference from somewhere, possibly a Chris Rock comedy routine title? But I can't find anything, er, definitive on the subject. (32) This, on the other hand, I can very much point at definitively. A scene in the TV show Community had the dean of the school hoping that watching a person in a dalmatian costume flex doesn't awaken anything in him. (33) Anyone who suspected the Phoenix Wright reference from this stage direction, job well done.

(34) OBJECTION! Alright, that's not the best video, but I couldn't find a simple one from the games that included both the slap and the pointing. There are compilations of the pointing animations of all the characters who ever object, but not the slap that comes first. (35) I do sort of love that they call attention to it to make sure you understand that it's a reference, but… Look, LOOK, look me in the eye and tell me a little of Jod isn't rubbing off on Ianthe already, that proximity to him isn't melting things across a little, and tell me you don't believe Jod absolutely played those games. Permeability of the soul need not be limited to literal contact with the soul: I think Muir is hinting that every time you let someone into your life, your souls are connecting, exchanging. And, isn't that true in real life? Can you say, for absolute certain, that your friends, your interactions, even your experience on social media, haven't changed you? I'm all about looking at the Watson and the Doyle, and I think this carries the weight of both. (36) What she says is "It's a fair cop, guv'nor." which has proven very difficult to run down as far as a specific reference, with guv'nor on the end, but generally is used to mean "I admit it, you caught me". (37) See, besides being a fairly common excuse given for committing crimes, I think this might be more evidence of Jod's influence. He's really good at blaming his problems on anyone but himself. I feel like I don't know as much about Ianthe, despite spending almost as much time with her. I could believe that she had a habit of it before… but given the whole point of this story, why not read more into it? For funsies. (This also makes the previous line a loose Monty Python reference, a skit of theirs included the line "All right, it's a fair cop, but society's to blame.") (38) Closing the stable door after the horse has already escaped. Ianthe sees the quest for a better Lyctorhood as pointless. If you recall, even she had the good sense to be awed when Paul emerged, but I like the context this gives to that.

(39) As a bonus question, when this scene takes place within the storyline of NtN, do we think that Ianthe still believes that Harrow's body is Harrow returned to the fold? Questions I have to ask myself the more I think about them… (40) Well, and left unsaid is that Corona was the older twin, the rightful heir, and Ianthe's jealousy has probably always been mixed evenly with her superiority because she got the power and Corona didn't. (41) Insert all the exaggerations here, because I'm fascinated at Ianthe's implications, as I see them. Abigail Pent ended up exactly where she wanted to be. Ianthe only seems to see the death, the wasted ambition and potential. She didn't know Pent at all. (42) I'm just glad Muir didn't try to write out Porky Pig's speech impediment to get this one across. (43) We joke a lot about Babs only ever being for consumption, never being a person, just an object. But it's also very much the truth. Ianthe never overestimated his worth to her. She just underestimated what he had done and would do to her. (44) Is this Dulcie hinting that Pal is already subject to his own permeability, even right before the cigarettes? (45) Gubbins - a collection of useless bits and bobs. Ianthe is so mean about Gideon, considering the friendship bracelets. Then again… Kiriona is the saddest girl in all the world, so she probably knows Ianthe doesn't really mean any of it. (46) Which is, of course, true. She was the protagonist of her story. But it's so interesting to see Ianthe, of the clever, quiet, observantness that still managed to miss so much, catch that behaviour. (47) Saw a post about how Pal makes this astonished face with Kiriona starts spouting necromancy facts, and how this line gives it new context. I just. Love. These books. I love Muir's brain. Every line can be looked at under a microscope and then the entire book totally recontextualized by ten words in a bonus story.

(48) Once he realized that Cytherea was not Dulcinea, and he had nothing to be jealous about, really. (49) The line from Hamlet is "Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping?" The short version of the context is Hamlet chastising Polonius for saying he'll give the guests what they deserve, because if we all only get what we deserve, who gets anything more than corporal punishment? So, where did Dulcinea get this line? Some force across the River? (50) This line is driving me feral. We both? Is that Dulcie and Pro, or Dulcie and Pal? Which we, Muir? (51) I want to believe this is a reference to Fullmetal Alchemist, but I have no supporting evidence for the case, just a suggestion that you go watch Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood or read the manga. (52) Another observation from a post I saw, but, what an incredible way to reframe a lack of success. "I missed the bus. Truly, wonderful news for my haters." It's a silly thing, but I bet if you tried, it would lighten the burden of a lot of everyday "failures" into a much more average sort of vibe. (53) Awful, as in awe-ful, as in filling one with awe. Incredible how THAT one twisted over the centuries, amirite? (54) I think this definitely confirms the part where both Pal and Cam were in some sort of polycule-y thing with Dulcinea. (No, I don't think Cam and Pal are in romance or sex with each other, but I do think that some relationships defy the simplicity of the labels we have access to.) (55) His conversation with Cam, earlier in Nona, that Nona heard on the tape. That Cam would rather carry his soul than live in a world that didn't contain him. They're such a mirror for Harrow and Gideon. (56) Does that mean she's beyond even a Resurrection? (57) I want to start singing that old, old song. Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere, waiting for me… It's a river, not a sea, but I must wonder if Muir ever smirked at the thought of it regarding Dulcie and Pal here. But, this recontextualizes a TON. One, Pal not telling Cam before the Paul-ification that he'd spoken to what he truly believed was Dulcie. Two, his saying "beyond the river" in that same final exchange. Three, everything we've ever been told about the River in the narrative... (58) If what ends well? What does "well" entain?

(59) Daniel 10:6, Douay-Rheims translation as Muir is so fond of it: "And his body was like the chrysolite, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as a burning lamp: and his arms, and all downward even to the feet, like in appearance to glittering brass: and the voice of his word like the voice of a multitude." Daniel, speaking of having seen an angel. I got goosebumps when I realized. (60) Cute is insufficient to the moment, Dulcie. And you well know it. (61) Has anyone guessed at what game they're playing? It's not proper poker that I can tell, because you don't play that many cards down in it and they're not betting per se. Also, they play more cards than they're described being dealt or picking up. (62) Pal confirming his suspicions as we race to the end. (63) One assumes, her playing unfair up front and interpreting his first clarification as a question. (64) It was never just about her use of Babs as a puppet, adding his name to clarify to the readers of Nona that it wasn't Ianthe's body on the page, it was her somehow retrieved cav. It was always for this. She was always Naberius. Fuck.

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

‘Are you the least bit aware of the amount of evil that has been done in the name of “I was just following orders”?’

— Ninth Inspector, ‘The Short Haul’

[todaysdocument]

Manifest for Brig Virginia of Baltimore

Record Group 36: Records of the U.S. Customs ServiceSeries: Slave ManifestsFile Unit: September 1823-December 1823

MANIFEST of Negros, Mulattos, and ^free persons of Color, taken on board the Brig Virginia of Baltimore - whereof John Staples - is Master, burthen 23.9 - tons, to be transported to the Port of New Orleans - in the District of Mississippi - for the purpose of ^Residing in the City of New Orleans [struck through: being sold or disposed of as Slaves or to be held to Service or Labour] Sex. Height. Number of Entry. Names. Male. Female. Age. Feet. Inches. Whether Negro, Mulatto, or person of Color. Owner or Shipper's Name and Residence 1 Lucy Boyer Woman 45 5 1 light mulatto Lucy Boyer for Herself & children--Shipper 2 Robert D. Smith Male 19 5 2 brown 3 Caroline Boyer Girl 13 4 10 lightish mulatto Emily Boyer do. 9 4 2 light mulatto District of Baltimore, Port of Baltimore, the 1 day of November 1823 [illegible - struck through] I John Staples - Master of the Brig Virginia - - do solemnly, sincerely, and truly swear [struck through: each of us] to the best of our ^my knowledge and belief, that the above described persons of Color have not been imported into the United States since the first day of January, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Eight; and that under the Laws of the State of Maryland, they are not held to Service or Labour, as Slaves and are entitled to freedom under these laws, [illegible, struck through]--So Help me God. her Sworn to this 18 day of Lucy [hand drawn X] Boyer November 1823 before mark Jas. H McCulloch COLLECTOR.District of Baltimore, Port of Baltimore, the 18 day of November --- 1823 I Jas. H. McCulloch Collector of the District of Baltimore, do hereby Certify that the within is a true copy of the Original Manifest or List of ^free persons of color^, left on file in this office; and I do further certify, that [illegible, blacked through] John Staples --- Master of the within mentioned Brig Virginia ----- ha^th[struck through: ve] this day made oath, in manner directed in the ninth Section of the Act of Congress, passed the Second day of March 1807, prohibiting the Importation of Slaves into the United States --- I do hereby authorise the said Master to proceed with the said free ^persons of color [illegible, blacked out] named as within, and being Four ---- in number, to the Port of New Orleans ---- in the State of Louisiana Given under my Hand at the Custom-House of Baltimore, the date above written. Jas. H. McCulloch Coll.r [Collector] [Handwritten in black in to lower left of McCulloch's signature] I John Daly [Certifie?] that I examined the within list And finde the Same to agree John Daly Inspr [Inspector] Below Decbr (December) 10th 1823 [written upside down] 10 December 1823 Brig Virginia Staples From Baltimore Slave manifest

[craftercat]

JTS01, Biography of Gaozu (Part 1)

(My first translation, so I may well have got things wrong. When I finish translating Gaozu's biography I'll put it together and post it on my Wordpress)

The Exalted Founder (gaozu), Divine Great Sage Great Glorious Filial (shenyao dasheng daguang xiao) August Emperor's surname was Li, taboo Yuan. His ancestors hailed from Didao of Longxi, Prince Wuzhao of Liang Gao's seventh-generation descendant (Prince Wuzhao of Liang was a ruler in the Sixteen Kingdoms period).

高祖神堯大聖大光孝皇帝姓李氏，諱淵。其先隴西狄道人，涼武昭王暠七代孫也。

Gao begot Xin. Xin begot Chong'er, (who) served in the government of (Northern) Wei as Governor of Hongnong Prefecture. Chong'er begot Xi, who was Brigadier-General of Jinmen, who led outstanding men to pacify Wuchuan, thus his family was there. In Yifeng (an era name of Emperor Gaozong of Tang, Gaozu's grandson), was posthumously honoured as Widespread August Emperor. Xi begot Tianxi, who served in the government of (Northern) Wei as Master of Banners. In Datong (Western Wei era name) was bestowed as Sikong. In Yifeng, was honoured as Glorious August Emperor.

暠生歆。歆生重耳，仕魏為弘農太守。重耳生熙，為金門鎮將，領豪傑鎮武川，因家焉。儀鳳中，追尊宣皇帝。熙生天錫，仕魏為幢主。大統中，贈司空。儀鳳中，追尊光皇帝.

The Imperial Ancestor's taboo (was) Hu, (was) Later Wei (Western Wei?)'s Supervisor, conferred as Duke of Longxi Commandery, accompanied Emperor Wen of Zhou (Yuwen Tai) with Grand Protector Li Bi, Minister of War Dugu Xin, etc. because of merits in participating as a subordinate was conferred, (they) were at the time known as the "Eight Pillars of the State", (Hu) was bestowed the surname of Daye.

皇祖諱虎，後魏左僕射，封隴西郡公，與周文帝及太保李弼、大司馬獨孤信等以功參佐命，當時稱為“八柱國家”，仍賜姓大野氏。

When Zhou received abdication (Emperor Wen of Sui came to the throne), (Hu) was posthumously conferred the title of Duke of Tang, posthumous name Xiang. When Emperor Wen of Sui was chancellor, their old surname (Li) was restored. At the beginning of Wude (Gaozu's era name), was posthumously honoured as Revered August Emperor, temple name Grand Founder (taizu), tomb in Yongkang.

周受禪，追封唐國公，諡曰襄。至隋文帝作相，還復本姓。武德初，追尊景皇帝，廟號太祖，陵曰永康。

The Imperial Deceased Father's taboo was Bing, was in charge of (Northern) Zhou's An Province, General-In-Chief of the (Eight) Pillars, inherited the title of Duke of Tang, posthumous name Ren. At the beginning of Wude, was posthumously honoured as Fundamental August Emperor, temple name Generational Ancestor (shizu), tomb in Xingning.

皇考��昞，周安州總管、柱國大將軍，襲唐國公，諡曰仁。武德初，追尊元皇帝，廟號世祖，陵曰興寧。

Gaozu was born in the first year of Tianhe (one of Yuwen Yong's era names) in Chang'an, inherited the title of Duke of Tang at seven years old (by East Asian age reckoning). Growing up, he was outstanding and magnanimous, headstrong and sincere, generous, benevolent, and forgiving to the public. No matter if noble or lowly, all obtained his friendship. Sui accepted (Zhou)'s abdication, supplied one thousand cows personally. Emperor Wen's Empress Dugu was his maternal aunt, because of this was especially beloved (by Emperor Wen?), accumulated and conveyed as Regional Inspector of the three provinces of Qiao, Long and Qi.

高祖以周天和元年生於長安，七歲襲唐國公。及長，倜儻豁達，任性真率，寬仁容眾，無貴賤鹹得其歡心。隋受禪，補千牛備身。文帝獨孤皇后，即高祖從母也，由是特見親愛，累轉譙、隴、岐三州刺史。

There was a man called Shi Shiliang with skill in physiognomy, called Gaozu and said:

"Your Honour's skeletal frame is extraordinary. You’re destined to ascend as sovereign over men. I implore you to cherish your well-being and not to forget my humble counsel."

Gaozu because of this was slightly conceited. At the beginning of Daye (Emperor Yang of Sui's era name), became Governor of the two commanderies of Xingyang and Loufan, recruited as lesser supervisor of the inner palace.

有史世良者，善相人，謂高祖曰：“公骨法非常，必為人主，願自愛，勿忘鄙言。”高祖頗以自負。大業初，為滎陽、樓煩二郡太守，征為殿內少監。

Ninth year (of Daye), promoted to lesser officer in the Commander of Palace Guards. In the Liaodong Campaign (Emperor Yang of Sui's expeditions in Goguryeo), supervised transportation to Huaiyuan County. When Yang Xuangan rebelled, an imperial decree called forth Gaozu to swiftly advance to the Honghua Commandery, concurrently charging him with the military governance west of the pass.

遼東之役，督運於懷遠鎮。及楊玄感反，詔高祖馳驛鎮弘化郡，兼知關右諸軍事.

Gaozu experienced many tests at home and abroad, and was simple and virtuous, he made many friendships with outstanding figures, and was close to numerous. At this time Emperor Yang was very suspicious of him, many suspected and feared him. An imperial decree summoned Gaozu to travel to (Emperor Yang)'s location, but did not go due to suffering from illness. At that time (Gaozu)'s niece Lady Wang was in (Emperor Yang)'s harem, the emperor asked her:

"Why is your maternal uncle late?"

Lady Wang responded that it was due to sickness, the emperor said:

"Could he die?"

高祖曆試中外，素樹恩德，及是結納豪傑，眾多款附。時煬帝多所猜忌，人懷疑懼。會有詔征高祖詣行在所，遇疾未謁。時甥王氏在後宮，帝問曰：“汝舅何遲？”王氏以疾對，帝曰：“可得死否？”

Gaozu heard this and it increased his fear, so drank excessively, became deeply immersed in drinking and bribery, so as to pass off his traces as this. In the eleventh year, Emperor Yang journeyed to the Fenyang Palace and commanded Gaozu to venture into Shanxi and Hedong for scrutinizing and apprehending officials. The troops arrived in Longmen, the traitors commanded by Mu Duan'er were several thousand men and assailed the city.

高祖聞之益懼，因縱酒沉湎，納賄以混其跡焉。十一年，煬帝幸汾陽宮，命高祖往山西、河東黜陟討捕。師次龍門，賊帥母端兒帥眾數千薄於城下。

Gaozu, at the head of scarcely more than ten horsemen, charged upon them. Of the seventy arrows he loosed, each met its mark and brought them down, precipitating a grand disarray amongst the rebel ranks. In the twelfth year (of Daye), was promoted to Right Strong Guard General.

高祖從十余騎擊之，所射七十發，皆應弦而倒，賊乃大潰。十二年，遷右驍衛將軍。

[darkmaga-returns]

This plan should keep him fully occupied on the home front:

Truth Justice ™ @SpartaJustice

THE END OF THE DEEP STATE: President Trump’s Plan to Dismantle the Deep State and Return Power to the American People.

Here's my plan to dismantle the deep state and reclaim our democracy from Washington corruption once and for all, and corruption it is.

First, I will immediately re-issue my 2020 Executive Order restoring the President's authority to remove rogue bureaucrats. And I will wield that power very aggressively.

Second, we will clean out all of the corrupt actors in our National Security and Intelligence apparatus, and there are plenty of them. The departments and agencies that have been weaponized will be completely overhauled so that faceless bureaucrats will never again be able to target and persecute conservatives, Christians, or the left's political enemies, which they're doing now at a level that nobody can believe even possible.

Third, we will totally reform FISA courts which are so corrupt that the judges seemingly do not care when they are lied to in warrant applications. So many judges have seen so many applications that they know were wrong, or at least they must have known. They do nothing about it, they're lied to.

Fourth, to expose the hoaxes and abuses of power that have been tearing our country apart, we will establish a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to declassify and publish all documents on Deep State spying, censorship, and corruption, and there are plenty of them.

Fifth, we will launch a major crackdown on government leakers who collude with the fake news to deliberately weave false narratives and to subvert our government and our democracy. When possible, we will press criminal charges.

Sixth, we will make every Inspector General's Office independent and physically separated from the departments they oversee so they do not become the protectors of the Deep State.

Seventh, I will ask Congress to establish an independent auditing system to continually monitor our intelligence agencies to ensure they are not spying on our citizens or running disinformation campaigns against the American people, or that they are not spying on someone's campaign like they spied on my campaign.

Eighth, we will continue the effort launched by the Trump administration to move parts of the sprawling federal bureaucracy to new locations outside the Washington Swamp. Just as I moved the Bureau of Land Management to Colorado, as many as 100,000 government positions can be moved out. And I mean immediately out of Washington to places filled with patriots who love America, and they really do love America.

Ninth, I will work to ban federal bureaucrats from taking jobs at the companies they deal with and that they regulate. So they deal with these companies and they regulate these companies and then they want to take jobs from these companies. Doesn't work that way—such a public display cannot go on and it's taking place all the time, like with Big Pharma.

Finally, I will push a constitutional amendment to impose term limits on members of Congress.

This is how I will shatter the deep state and restore government that is controlled by the people and for the people.

Thank you very much.

[aro-simp]

Hi! Y'all can call my Sean (he/it + cyber/glitch/[redacted])! This is a sideblog, I follow and like from @couple-of-assbutts (and occasionally @schroedingers-faggot )

I'm the median host of The Auditorium Hivemind (Audio Hive/Tah)! And this is Bucky, one of our headmates!

I'm plural, which may be talked about here occasionally, as fictive parts also partake in selfshipping. Plurality is a complex topic, don't berate us on how we talk about our own system!

We don't do shipcourse, and have no DNI!

I tag nsfw as nsft! Other than that I don't really have a tag system, tho I may tag some specific f/o's or sources.

All our posts are okay to be reblogged no need to ask permission :)

I don't have a consistent stand on sharing, so if in doubt about a specific F/O just shoot me an ask!

F/O list is beneath the Read More!

In brackets are shipnames I'll hopefully use for tagging purposes

Fictoromantic F/Os:

Inspector Lestrade - Sherlock Holmes [Clueless Love]

Bassa Selim - Die Entf��hrung aus dem Serail (2022 Bielefeld production) [Felix Amor]

Tim Bradford - The Rookie [Tough Luck]

Queerplatonic F/Os (this list is not, and probably will never be, complete):

Jesse Pinkman - Breaking Bad [JesSean]

Krazy-8/Domingo - Breaking Bad

Maddie Nolen - Arcane

Helmut Zemo - Captain America: Civil War

Bucky - MCU

Levi - AoT

Captain Curly - Mouthwashing

Jimmy - Mouthwashing (fictive)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell - Top Gun [PsyMav] (soulbonded)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Top Gun: Maverick [RoosPsy] (introject)

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw - Top Gun [GoosePsy]

Jack Traven - Speed

Gregory House - House MD

Robert Chase - House MD

Lawrence Kutner - House MD

Ninth Doctor - Doctor Who

The Author - Doctor Who OC [Quill-N-Drill]

Simm!Master - Doctor Who [Your Lord And Master]

Captain Jack Harkness - Doctor Who

Rebecca Crane - Assassin's Creed

Desmond Miles - Assassin's Creed

Wyll - Baldur's Gate 3

Karlach - Baldur's Gate 3

Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow - Batman Begins

Bane - The Dark Knight Rises

Almond Cookie + Tea Knight Cookie - Cookie Run

Eddie Brock - Venom

Hobie Brown - Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse

Gollum - Lord of The Rings

Shane - Stardew Valley

Javier Esposito + Kevin Ryan - Castle

Jerry Tyson - Castle

Ilya Sokurov - The Rookie

Jared Stone - Castle

Ivan - Die Fledermaus (2022 Bielefeld production)

Figaro - Barber of Sevilla (2023 Bielefeld production)

Agent Stone - Sonic

Adam - Hazbin Hotel

Sir Pentious - Hazbin Hotel

Reginald Thorpe - Moriarty

Rodney Lambert - Moriarty

Farengar Secret-Fire - Skyrim

Rune - Skyrim

Dr John Watson - Sherlock Holmes

Dorian Gray - The Picture of Dorian Gray

Henry Clerval - Frankenstein

Robert Walton - Frankenstein

Matthew Asquith - Sherlock Holmes: Der Erpresser von Edinburgh

Cicero - Skyrim

Crowley - Good Omens

Aragorn - Lord of The Rings

Gavin Reed - Detroit: Become Human

Jacob Frye - Assassin's Creed [Jaccup]

John Standish - Assassin's Creed [IT Noob]

James Bond - personal AU

William Cooper - R.E.D.

Sexual F/Os (almost all my selfship have a sexual component, these however are exclusively sexual F/Os):

Cahir - The Witcher (Netflix)

Ancano - Skyrim

Julius Caesar - Asterix

Platonic and Familial F/Os (very very shortened version):

Viggo Grimborn - Dragons: Race To The Edge

Toothless - How To Train Your Dragon (Movies)

Oscar - maritimverse

Polly Danbridge-Burton - maritimverse

Ernest Fillmore - maritimverse

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace - Top Gun: Maverick

Robert "Bob" Floyd - Top Gun: Maverick

Dark Choco Cookie - Cookie Run

Red Velvet Cookie - Cookie Run

Simon "Ghost" Riley - Call of Duty

Ethan Hunt - Mission Impossible

Some random links:

TES OCs, Top Gun S/I

"He's just like me fr" - fictionselves (fictotypes and median fictives. We also have other fictives in the main sys but this is abizt meeeeee) - incomplete

Shaun Hastings (Assassin's Creed)

Hiccup/Hicks (How To Train Your Dragon)

Boromir (Lord of the Rings)

James Moriarty (maritimverse)

Sherlock Holmes (ACD Canon)

Connor/RK800 (Detroit: Become Human)

Basil Hallward (The Picture of Dorian Gray)

Powder (Arcane)

Elijah Miles (Assassin's Creed)

Carter (James Bond: Casino Royale)

Aziraphale (Good Omens)