#Nocturn is just an aspect of Dream

[bet-on-me-13]

Death, Destruction, and Danny

(disclaimer: I have the barest bones idea of what the Endless are or their personalities, so this is just a quick blub of something I thought of at Work)

So! The JLA have just had an encounter with a member of the Endless, and called in Constantine to explain what exactly they are.

"Okay, so it's like this. Before Existence, before The Universe itself, the Personification of Time had a group of Children. These Children each Represent an Aspect of the Universe, and they are as Immortal as Immortal can get." Constantine explained.

"These children are called the Endless. They are, Dream, Destiny, Despair, Desire, Delirium, Destruction, Death, and Danny."

"...Danny?"

"Oh yeah, Danny's a cool guy. He was adopted later on by Time Itself, and he represents Balance. But that's not a word that starts with D so he just goes by his Mortal Name, Danny, to fit in."

[starswhisperwritershear]

@any-n-everything Here's why i think Sam and Tucker needed some more thorough development. I mean it's not that they were terrible, and I think the majority of my problems with them suffer from the writing and it being a kids show who's primary goal was to teach kids moral lessons. But Sam had several moments where she disregard what Danny wanted and pushed her own agendas no matter how that affected him and Tucker. Such as the gorilla project (yes it was for Danny's grade but the poor kid got no sleep that night and clearly didn't want to be there), or the one that gets me the most is season 2 episode 1 when she wished Danny and her had never met and then instead of trying to solve the problem in any other way (she already knew at this point that it was the wishing ghost attacking) Like going to get help from any of the other ghost hunter or dealing with the ghost herself which she was shown very capable of doing (and we needed more of because honestly that was a cool aspect of her character) she decided to put her friend, who she supposedly cares about, through the most traumatic experience of his life a second time. She killed him, twice. Because she was the one who egged him on to go in the portal the first time despite him warning her about safety issues, and then she just shoved him in the second time. But then the show wants to convince me she likes him romantically. That's crazy. Not to mention the one time with the trucks that Danny and Tucker liked and she wanted him to use his ghost powers to her advantage despite having in several other episodes berated him for doing the same thing. And (last example I promise) in the show finale when he gave up his ghost powers to protect his family and go back to a normal life because he's been struggling with this for so long, she gets upset! (They all do, I'm not excluding Jazz and Tucker from this, this is just my Sam paragraph). She tells him that she feels she lost a friend and that he's wrong to give up superpowers because now he's not unique or special and she wants friends who are unique and special. Like damn, Sam. Low blow. It's like when a friend only wants to hang out with you to play on your x box and when you don't have the x box they disappear and hate you.

As for Tucker, he's not quite as bad and again I think his character just suffers from the Tv-Y7 rating, but there are a few times where he just straight up disrespects Danny. The only two times we're shown that they get in a fight, Tucker completely does a 180 and makes Danny out to be the bad guy. In the episode where he wishes he has ghost powers he just blames Danny for taking the spotlight and showing off how much better he is, when Danny never did any of that (at that point in the show). Even if Tucker felt that way because of jealousy, he was still really rude with how he spoke to Danny and quite literally put a citizen's life in danger just to upstage Danny. He does it again in the one for where he runs against Dash for class president. (I know that in both of these he was under a ghost influence, but all of the problems started before the ghosts got involved, they just enhanced what he was already feeling.) (And I know Danny and Sam weren't listening to him but that's wildly out of character for Danny and I feel the writers just conformed his personality to the plot to teach the listen to your friends narrative) but he also took that scepter willingly from the mummy ghost. He has like a weird superiority complex that he takes out on people at the most random times. Then in the episode with Nocturne, his best dream is him being all rich and making Danny his janitor! That's not how you think of your best friend! That shows just how much better he thinks he is compared to Danny. Then in the episode where the G.I.W. buys Danny's house and Danny is freaking out, Tucker is like hey man, you have a lot of money now, act like it and enjoy it and calm down. Then gets mad at him when he acts like it and enjoys it! And also he did the same thing as Sam in the finale.

Sorry for the chaotic jumbled mess of thoughts, I have more to say I just can't remember any more specific examples off the top of my head at the moment. But again, he could have worse, I just think they also deserve their own growing and learning moments.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A current of anxiety ripples around you. Since that day Steve came to your home. That day you foolishly let him inside. A tension made worse by your avoidance.

You haven’t called him. You’ve thought of it. You even thought of emailing but that was just as intimidating. You just don’t want to ever deal with him again. So you’ll say nothing and hope he takes the hint.

That also means you need a new student to take his spot. In the meantime, you can make due with the reduced income. You’re always smart about finances. As mindful and scrutinous as every other aspect in your life.

A whole week goes by. You feel the dread whittling away little by little. It feels like any other day as you wait for Caroline to drop off Freddy for his lesson. Despite being prone to distraction, he’s one of your most naturally gifted students. You enjoy those days when he manages to sit still. It’s worth the extra bit of patience you need to get him to focus.

You put a new bouquet of carnations in the window. The scent adds another layer of warmth to the sun streaming between the open curtains. It takes you back to the summers you spent there with your grandfather and his antique radio. It makes you miss him even more.

The doorbell chimes and your skirt billows around your legs as you descend. Teaching helps keep your mind off the shadow that follows you around. Another ghost that haunts these walls and your dreams. Just last night, you woke at nocturnal vision of his tattooed hands reaching for you.

No. It’s fine. It’s fine. He has no reason to return.

“Carol–”

You open the door and your voice lumps in your throat. It isn’t Caroline, it’s someone else. It’s as if he’s been summoned by your denial. You grip the door handle tight as Steve greets you with a bouquet of poppies.

“What… are you doing here?” You eke out.

He grins, “I didn’t hear from you so I thought I’d drop in. Just to say hi. I figured you’re a busy lady so you must’ve forgot to give me a call.”

His tone is light but with a weight hidden between his words. Like he knows something you don’t. He’s so certain it fills you with doubt.

“Uh, well, er, Steve,” you stammer, “it’s nice of you to check in but I’m expecting a student.”

“I understand. I just am so excited to learn more so I wanted to schedule my next lesson and you said yourself that I should keep at if I want to get better so–”

“Look, I, erm,” your words are stunted, painfully as they rise in wispy breaths, “I’m sorry I didn’t call but I’m at capacity.”

He watches you. His cheek dimples and the silver patch in his beard, just along his chin, catches the sunlight. He holds out the poppies in the cone of brown paper.

“I brought you your favourite,” he insists.

“That’s all very nice,” you reply, “but I’m sorry. I can’t take on any new students right now. There’s a music studio I can recommend, I have their number. My cousin works there and he’s brilliant at piano–”

“No,” he says bluntly, keeping the poppies hovering before you. “I don’t want a studio. I want you.”

“Really, I can’t. The flowers are pretty but I…” your voice quavers as his gaze bores into you. You chew your lip as you try to muster the next excuse.

“Would you quit chewing your lip and tell me the truth?” His timbre takes on a new edge and chokes the air from your chest.

“I am,” you murmur, “I’m– I should’ve told you but I lost track of… time.”

“And yesterday? At capacity. You didn’t have a single student.”

“Wha– how would you–”

“Hey, sorry I’m running a bit beh–” Caroline’s trill carries up the walk as she rushes up with Freddy’s hand in hers. She gasps and stops short, “oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I got caught up at doctor’s office and I know we’re late.”

You notice how she eyes Steve from head to toe. There’s a line of disapproval in her forehead as she stares at his arms. He’s unbothered as he doesn’t even turn around.

“It’s fine,” you step to the left to see around Steve, “I have everything ready–”

“We’re not done, sweetheart,” Steve snarls as he forms a barrier between you and Caroline. “You’re going to stand here and lie to me. Refuse the gift I brought you.”

“I told you. I’m just one person and I can’t handle any more students,” you put on your most stringent tenor, for Caroline and Freddy. You don’t want to cause them any panic. “Thank you.”

“That’s not what your post said online.”

“It’s old. I forgot–”

“You keep forgetting a lot.”

“Please, go. I have a lesson now.”

He huffs and drops his hand, hanging the flowers petals down as he sneers and turns to look at Caroline. He squares his shoulders and descends the steps one at a time. He marches up to her as Freddy cowers and clings to her arm, mommy.”

“Be careful with this con artist,” Steve grits out, “she’ll take your deposit and run. Trust me.”

You frown and bluster forward. He carries on down the sidewalk and you babble dumbly. Caroline looks at you then at Freddy as he fidgets. She turns to watch Steve cross the street as he tosses the flowers on the road. You follow her eyeline and stand frozen at his angry display.

He puts his helmet on and straddles the large motorcycle by the curb. He kicks the stand up and starts the engine, the roar cutting through the air starkly. You quake with the rumble as he revs and tears out, running over the bouquet as he tears off down the avenue.

“I–” you begin, “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t even know–”

There’s a sniffle and sob. You both look down at Freddy as he begins to cry, “mommy, I’m scared.”

“Shhh,” Caroline turns and squats down to comfort him, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, Freddy, come on.”

She draws him into a hug and you flit down the steps.

“You okay, Freddy?” You bend slightly as you try to get his attention. “How about you come inside and have a few cookies?”

“Please,” Caroline snaps at you, “I think we’re going to cancel this week’s lesson.”

“He won’t come back–”

“Look, I don’t know the type of men you hang around and frankly I don’t care,” she stands up and inserts herself in front of her son, “but when they scare my son, I have to be concerned about leaving him with you.”

“Really, I barely know him–”

“Please, keep your escapades to yourself,” she shows her palm dismissively. “You know, if you’re going to have kids here, you need to be careful who you bring around.”

“I don’t— I don’t know him.”

She scoffs and flicks you away like a gnat. She turns and tugs Freddy with her down the walk. You bring your hands to your throat in horror and sputter. Oh no, another empty slot. You might have to dip into your savings. Worse, you don’t know if they’ll even come back next week.

You drop your shoulders as you watch Caroline put Freddy in the car. As bad as the missing money, you looked forward to the company. You bite into your lip as doom stabs in your gut.

You wince and lean back on your heel. You reach out to lean on the pillar, your other hand falling to your stomach as nausea stirs. Steve’s words replay in your head. 

Yesterday? How did he know? You were so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t truly felt the impact of those words.

He has been watching you.

[0junemeatcleaver0]

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

Muta Cupido; An examination of Roman sexual morality, what makes a man a vir, the practice of oratorical celibacy, and the appetites of both a mortal man and monster. 

Ages ago, I wrote a quick-n-dirty meta (which I will link to later in this post). At the time, I was quite proud of it. But after having done my last Marius deep dive, all of my previous metas now look lackluster to me. Consider this to be the updated version of the original meta. It is not necessary to have read the previous meta before this one, though those of you who have (and even those of you who haven’t) should be able to pick up what I’m putting down before I even link to the original. 

That being said, I would suggest that you do read this companion piece I wrote about what (in the mind of a Roman) made a man, a man. It’s a relatively short read, and will help add more context to the short discussion on the same topic later in this post. 

A quick note before anyone tries to jump up my ass (again): I view meta as serving the same purpose as fic, just via a different methodology. Where in fic you dream up scenarios to put the characters through to see how they might act in those situations, I feel meta is a way of taking what we know canonically about the character and attempting to recontextualize the facts with additional information. Just as there are nearly infinite equations one can use to reach a sum, so too are there different ways a single character might end up the person we read on the page. In short: This post is meant to be a thought experiment and you’d have to be some kind of fool to think its author is proclaiming herself some kind of authority on the subject.  

𝔖𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔫 𝔄𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱 ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔢

The time of Pliny the Elder and the four humors; a time when medical theories that seem ignorant to the modern mind were rife. And while I could spend quite a long time dunking on the science of yesteryear, I’ll keep things brief by only focusing on ideas surrounding sexual health–especially where it pertains to the sexual health of men. 

As pictured above, one very important aspect of health for a male was the regulation of semen. Semen was a very important bodily fluid, as it was thought to be made via a mix of (the humor) blood and pneuma (“vital air”) and was believed to be the fuel on which internal organs ran. 

Blood and semen, in fact, were so inextricably linked in the Roman mind that the two would be even poetically coupled throughout different texts in oft times violent ways. Aya Betensky says in Lucretius and Love: 

“Let us begin with Lucretius’ Venus in De Rerum Natura 4. He introduces her as a physiologically as possible, moving from a discussion of dreams to wet dreams and then to the mechanics of ejaculation, which he shows mockingly to be the body’s enactment of the romantic expression ‘wound of love’. Semen is equated with blood spurting out of a wound. (4. 1049-1056)”. 

Greek physician Galen warns in his treatise On Semen that exorbitant sexual activity would result in a loss of pneuma and thus, vitality:

“It is not at all surprising that those who are less moderate sexually turn out  to be weaker, since the whole body loses the purest part of both substances, and there is besides an accession of pleasure, which by itself is enough to dissolve the vital tone, so that before now some persons have died from excess of pleasure.” 

As detailed further in this post’s companion piece, the rules for manhood were highly prescriptive to the Romans. Every man of good moral standing concerned with their own virtus would have also been weary of losing too much semen–whether through promiscuity or nocturnal emissions. 

As Catharine Edwards states in The Politics of Immorality in Ancient Rome:

“Morality and manliness [were considered] the distinguishing features of Rome.”

And while Rome’s mos maiorum were such a public affair (indeed, these customs and social norms functioned almost as some sort of morality play each citizen was expected to participate in while in public), these expectations leaked into even the most private sectors of citizen’s lives–including the bedroom. 

Robert Sharp speaking about how censores regulated the public in Incontinentia, Licentia et Libedo: The Juxtaposition of Morality and Sexuality during the Roman Republic. 

Indeed, a lack of control over the self (which included being able to appropriately manage one’s sex life) indicated that a man was incapable of governing others–a highly detrimental accusation in the heyday of the Paterfamilias. As per Catharine Edwards in Unspeakable Professions: Public Performance and Prostitution in Ancient Rome:

“The enjoyment of ‘low sensual pleasure’ threatened to erode the elite male’s identity as a cultured person”. 

Still yet, there were some men for whom this fear of loss of masculine potency loomed larger than most. 

Because a loss of pneuma was thought to cause a whole host of physical ailments–but most importantly to this discussion slow mindedness, an ‘effeminate’ voice, and general weakness of character–the men perhaps most concerned with keeping hold of their pneuma were orators. 

One such orator was C. Licinius Calvus (born 82 BCE, died possibly in 47 BCE). In Natural History, Pliny the Elder name checks Calvus during a discussion of medical uses for lead. Because Calvus took to putting lead plates on his kidneys to combat having wet dreams. John Dugan says in Preventing Ciceronianis: C. Licinius Calvus’ Regimens for Sexual and Oratorical Self-Mastery: 

“Pliny, moreover, connects this therapy with Calvus’ literary activity, stipulating that the orator’s treatment was designed to ‘preserve the strength of his body for the labor of his studies’.”

The oratorial obsession with preventing wet dreams isn’t where the scholarly preoccupation with keeping one’s seminal fluid to one’s self ended, either. As per the Encyclopedia Britannica: 

“As classical civilization developed, two ideals of masculine celibacy appeared, that of the ascetic philosopher and that of the priest of the mystery religions. [...] Pythagoras (c. 580 BC - c. 500) established a small community that emphasized study, vegetarianism, and sexual restraint or abstinence. Many later philosophers believed that celibacy is conducive to the detachment and equilibrium required by the philosopher’s calling. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus (AD 55- C. 135) for example, held that the ideal teacher would be unmarried and that his task would require freedom from the cares of family life.” 

𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔪, 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔪, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔄𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱 ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔢

Now that we’ve gotten a taste of how physicians viewed sexual activity, we’ll move on to what the philosophers thought on the subject. 

There were two major schools of philosophy in Ancient Rome–Epicureanism and Stoicism. Epicureanism was a philosophy that taught that pleasure was the highest good and the thing through which you could attain tranquility and freedom from fear and physical pain. Stoicism was the philosophy that taught that life was best lived in harmony with reason, was based in knowledge, and showed a complete indifference to pain and pleasure. 

𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔖𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶

Within Epicurean thought, pleasure was believed to be the highest good. According to the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy:

“Epicurus’ ethics is a form of egoistic hedonism; i,e., he says that the only thing that is intrinsically valuable is one’s own pleasure; anything that has value is valuable merely as a means to securing pleasure for oneself.”

To Epicurus, pleasure simply meant satisfying one’s desires. He believed there to be two types of desire, “moving” and “static”. Moving desire happens when one is actively fulfilling the desire, such as eating when you feel hungry. Static desire occurs after fulfillment, i.e. feeling comfortably full after eating. He goes on to state he believes that static pleasure is the best form of pleasure. From IEoP:

“If pleasure results from getting what you want (desire-satisfaction) and pain from not getting what you want (desire-frustration), then there are two strategies you can pursue with respect to any given desire: you can either strive to fulfill the desire, or you can try to eliminate the desire. For the most part, Epicurus advocates the second strategy, that of paring your desires down to a minimum core, which are then easily satisfied.”

Epicurus divided desire into three categories:

Natural and necessary (food, drink, shelter, and personal safety)

Natural and unnecessary (things which will give you pleasure but lacking these things will not make your life impossible and/or unbearable)

Unnatural and unnecessary (desire for social standing, political power, fame, and glory)

He places sex in this second category. 

Later thinkers in this school of thought–namely Lucretius–would take harsher stances on sexual desire. Male desire, specifically, being viewed as pathological, frustrating, and violent (at least according to Robert D. Brown in Lucretius on Love and Sex [1987])–which is perhaps why Lucretius preached an ambivalent view of sex. 

Lucretius treated the sex drive as muta cupido, comparing the physiological response of ejaculation to blood spurting from a wound (again, via Brown in Lucretius on Love and Sex [1987]). 

𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔦𝔠 𝔖𝔢𝔵𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶

This school of thought emphasized sex within marriage as a way of fortifying an institution that helped to sustain social order. Such was this emphasis that by modern standards, we might consider these fathers of this philosophy to be homophobic (though that would be looking at things through a rather narrow and myopic lens)--Musonius disapproved of same-sex relations due to their lack of ability to create offspring. Seneca and Epictetus, meanwhile, merely favored male-female pairings over same sex couplings due to their ability to procreate. 

While these views surrounding same sex relations could be considered problematic by modern minds, the Stoics were more egalitarian in their thoughts surrounding highly gendered rules and how they opened people (mainly men) to hypocrisy–at least for the time. 

Indeed, both Musonius and Seneca believed if men wanted to exercise authority over women because they believed themselves to be in possession of greater self control, then those men ought to be able to manage their sex drives. 

This, of course, is not akin to the sex positivity movement of today, but rather a call for all good citizens–male and female–to control their baser urges so as not to embarrass the Republic. The (for lack of a better term) proto-feminism only went so far, as Seneca–staunchly against adultery–believed it was worse for a wife to cheat on her husband than for a husband to cheat on his wife. 

Kathy L. Gaca in her book The Making of Fornication: Eros, Ethics and Political Reform in Greek Philosophy and Early Christianity states that Seneca also believed that a wise man should make love to his wife by exercising good judgment (iudicium) and not emotion (affectus). Though this is a much stricter stance than taken by other Stoics, who largely saw sex as a means of promoting affection between married couples. 

But while Stoicism at least at first glance seems to take a more even keeled approach to the topic, it was not above fear mongering about the perils of the human sex drive. In her book, Gaca cites Ad Helviam (13:3), stating: 

“To Seneca, sexual desire for pleasure (libido) is a ‘destructive force (exitium) insidiously fixed in the innards’. Unregulated, it becomes cupiditas (lust).”

And here is where I risk losing those of you who didn’t put two and two together until this moment. AKA: I think Marius died a virgin and in this essay I will…

Or, more accurately, since this theory relies on a blending of canon and my research, let us make a melange of sorts.

ℑ𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱

For the purpose of keeping things contained to this post, here is a quick summary of the original post: 

Marius never mentions taking a shine to anyone while still a mortal

When speaking of his time as a mortal, he never alludes to being a part of any hedonistic activity, though he does admit to documenting the indiscretions of others

He’s only known to have been attracted to one person (Pandora) as a mortal, who he never got with romantically or sexually 

And before it gets brought up, I’ll address the passage in Prince Lestat where Teskhamen speaks to Marius and says: 

“[...] I saw your libraries, I saw and heard your quick-witted and curious companions, I saw the full blooming power of your experience, the life of a cultured Roman, the life that had made you what you were. I saw the beauty of Italy. I saw the beauty of fleshly love. I saw the beauty of ideas. I saw the beauty of the sea.[...]” 

This passage was pointed out to me on my original post. Before we continue, I want to make something clear: I don’t think anyone is wrong for reading this passage as meaning that Marius was party to that ‘fleshly love’. I think it’s ambiguous enough that it could go either way. 

My whole reasoning for personally not buying this as evidence against my current theory is a matter of language. Teskhamen front-loads this passage with language that focuses on Marius’ experience. It’s Marius’ library, Marius’s companions, Marius’ life as a cultured Roman. The second half of the passage removes possessive language from the equation entirely and instead focuses solely on the beauty of all he saw–Italy, pleasure, ideas, the sea. 

The remoteness of this language coming directly after the language that detailed Marius’ specific lived experience reads as a line of delineation to me. The things Marius did, and then the things Marius witnessed. 

This, of course, is in no way meant to be an argument about authorial intent. If I had to guess, Anne wasn’t focused on the preciseness of language here, but rather catching the flow of Teskhamen’s speech patterns. In short, it’s not that deep–it’s just a peculiarity of the writing that stuck out to me and I think lends itself to being read one of two ways. After all, Marius is not responsible for how beautiful the sea or Italy is, nor is he the sole thinker who had every beautiful idea and–it stands to reason, in my opinion, due to these things being grouped together–not necessarily the one participating in the fleshly love. 

Moving on. 

I’d like to continue my summation by detailing what it is we know (canonically) of Marius’ personality: 

Marius (whether he intends to or not) carries his Roman ideals about what makes a good man into the modern age, as called out by Pandora on page 57 of Blood Communion. 

Mortal Marius was noticeably odd and aloof. Pandora (again) calls this out on page 54 of Pandora, saying: 

“In the crowd, I saw Marius. He looked at me, then back to his book. So strange. I saw him standing against a tree trunk and writing. No one did this–stand against a tree, hold a book in one hand and write with the other. The slave stood beside him with a bottle of ink.” 

Showcasing yet again how Marius was still–at around thirty years of age–more invested in documenting fun instead of having any himself (this scene  was, after all, set during Saturnalia). 

I say ‘still’ because Marius himself says this on page 397 in The Vampire Lestat: 

“I’d come to Massilia after a long and studious journey that had taken me through all the great cities of the Empire. TO Alexandria, Pergamon, Athens I’d traveled, observing and writing about the people, and now I was making my way through the cities of Roman Gaul.” 

And again in TVL (page 397), the rowdiest he admits to getting is this: 

“By the age of twenty, I'd become the scholar and the chronicler, the one who raised his voice at drunken banquets to settle historical and military arguments.”

This identity as a chronicler–while cemented in his twentieth year–carried on into his fortieth year, as we see him still writing his own chronicles when approached by Mael in the tavern from which he was kidnapped (TVL, page 398).

This all, of course, is a rough sketch of Marius as a character and I am obviously relying on you to fill in any gaps with your own understanding of him as he appears on page. After all, it would take quite a while to transcribe every moment where Marius was particularly Roman, weird, scholarly, or restrained. Keep your own favorite instances in mind as we move on to the next bit: 

𝔏𝔢𝔱'𝔰 𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔭

It is my belief that it makes a lot of sense that Marius (especially if you buy into the “Marius was never a senator” theory) being a man who values his identity as a Roman man and an intellectual, would buy fully into practicing celibacy as a way to protect his mental acuity. 

It was a common enough medical practice in his day, he obviously highly values his intellect, he was very serious about and dedicated to his scholarly undertakings, if ineligible for a political position he might want to win the respect of his fellow men of good standing by becoming something of a historian/philosopher, he’d only been very attracted to a woman he couldn’t marry anyway, and he was a bit of an off putting weirdo (affectionate) to boot. 

Marius has been shown to exhibit respect for the great thinkers of his time (name checking Xenophon, Herodotus and Poseidonius on page 399 of TVL alone) and it’s not much of a stretch (especially when paired with his habit of loudly and forcefully arguing at banquets) to assume he had a great deal of respect for orators and their craft. 

Whether Marius were ever a fan of Calvus is up to debate–Calvus died one to two decades before Marius was born (there is no record of Calvus’ exact year of death), he would have been recent history for Marius. Calvus’ poems would have still existed (in more than the fragments we have now), his speeches would have been spoken about, and was fairly well known in his time. My point is, orators were well respected as men and intellectuals and it wouldn’t shock me if Marius was a fan of any of them in specific or in general and that respect could have been the thing that kicked off any possible decision to remain celibate. 

In short, I believe there are many plausible  reasons why Marius may have died a virgin and I think all of these in combination would make a very fun space to play in, character-wise. 

ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔰

https://www.jstor.org/stable/4349696?read-now=1&seq=10#page_scan_tab_contents

https://www.jstor.org/stable/1215514?read-now=1&seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents

https://www.jstor.org/stable/4349198?read-now=1&seq=2#page_scan_tab_contents

https://www.jstor.org/stable/270440?read-now=1&seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents

[goodfish-bowl]

It Came to Me in a Dream

Part 1

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 6: Nocturn - creation

Summary: Dreams are said to be the organization of the mind while one sleeps, and often reveal something the individual already knew in a new light. Nocturn might not be the ghost with the ability to see the future, but dreams are often one of the easiest ways to nudge the Realms of the Living in a particular direction. 

Word Count: 512

AO3 Link

Nocturn was familiar with these kinds of favors for the Master of Time. They were simple enough for him to do, though rather lacking in the creativity he preferred to express when interfering with the dreams of the living. Dreams were perceived to be the organization of the mind, and the window into the subconscious, and by providing the correct nudge, it was easy to push the minds of the living in a desired direction. Nocturn often found an idle curiosity as to what became of these dreamers, the resulting revelations and thoughts, and most importantly, the creations from them. Dreams made reality, it was the ultimate actualization of his own work. 

But to influence, even fully direct these dreams was something close to sacrilege to Nocturn. He understood their purpose well enough, dreams were important to the progression of time after all, small nudges, ambitions, and so on. It was a simple, and easy way to put an idea into the mind and have that individual think it was their own. It was unintrusive enough that Clockwork could fully exploit that method of influence without angering the Observants. Nocturn thought it was rather coy of the old Time Master, so despite his dislike of it, he played along.

It had taken some exhaustingly long meetings with the old ghost to work out a proper agreement for his services, but there was one reached. For so little effort, he usually either received a good, extended rest for himself within a slowed/paused pocket of time, and knowledge of future and past events through the lenses of dreams. He rarely took interest in the mortal or the visions he was sending them. Nocturn occasionally took some creative liberties within the presentation of these crafted dreams, since they were his own, handmade creations after all, and he allowed himself the satisfaction of knowing he had an impact on the fates of a Realm. He had only earned the ire of the Master of Time just once for his creativity. It was not good to drive Clockwork’s chosen prophets and visionaries mad, after all. Nocturn couldn’t do anything about it, though, when they were already that way. 

This particular instance, the Clock Master had requested Nocturn to send a very peculiar dream to an equally peculiar mortal man. He asked for the reason, and upon hearing that this series of events would influence the very existence of the Realms, paid particular attention. It was rare for a singular mortal to influence so much, let alone something that could potentially affect him. Nocturn was to send this human future knowledge of artificial portals to the Realms, and images of the realms themselves, though the latter aspect wasn’t as unique. Just the concept was so unfathomable, but if that’s what the Ancient of Time had requested, then so be it. These portals would exist, in time. These dreams were simply to make sure of that. Most peculiar indeed. 

In this case, Nocturn was going to pay particular attention to the creations of the mortal known as Jack Fenton.

[sarabwawahm]

"The longer you live, the more you forget."

Summary: Marceline is still haunted by glimpses of her past.

Time heals. An undeniable truth, despite her wanting to scream and holler about it being wrong. They still hurted, all those discarded scars of heartbreak, but they were scars nevertheless.

Time certainly heals, and Marceline had all the eternity.

The tales of her long, long life distracted her, and she went on endless adventures just to keep it this way. She discovered new people in a new world, became so invested in it that sometimes she even wondered if her past was real, if it wasn't a prolonged dream she had while sleeping in Tree Trunks' field, if her life hadn't always been a happy mingle of fun and occasional reminiscence. She had no proof, after all, that it indeed happened. Her supposed Simon, the formerly genius scientist, had became a madman. She lost Hambo due to her bastard of a boyfriend..and her..

No. She was no illusion. Her voice would come to her in daydreams and nightmares. It was a memory, a memory she cherished and forever will. The loving voice would utter a sweet Linlin and the mighty Vampire Queen would gasp in pain. She no longer denied her loss, nor was she always mourning, but she had yet to accept. She very likely wouldn't. Not when her name was in the back of her throat, ready to call for her younger-big sister whenever something was too much to handle. Not when ocean eyes would stare back into her own in the soft blue flames of her stove before they turned red. Not when her ghost phantomed her thoughts if she lets them wander, omnipresent in the back of her mind and constantly prepared to resurface.

Marceline walked down the nighty beach, unbothered by the loud cries of the waves as she dragged her toes in the sand. For such a nocturnal hour, the place was pretty lively, a strangely familiar crowd formed to celebrate as if conflicts never existed. In contrast, Marceline felt a gloom growing within her, as if she slowly approached a cursed fate by her aimless stroll. She didn't bother, her emotions taking the little reason she had left and letting her feet lead her to a wooden house planted far away from the commotion. She frowned slightly, feeling a sudden urge to enter it. Never one to hesitate, she did, stepping in and forcing her eyes to get used to this random, complete, change of scenery. She wasn't surprised. This was Ooo, anyway, a land of abnormalities.

What shocked her, though, was the odd nostalgic feeling this space gave her.

A foggy weather. Fallen buildings. Eerily empty streets. A post-apocalyptic air.

Infantile giggles, and three figures could be distinguished amongst the chaos.

-"Sing it, Tricy! One more time!", the black haired little girl spoke.

-"Oh, Linlin, don't you think we sang it plenty of times?"

Marceline's breath hitched, and she instinctively inched closer to the trio. Simon's soft expression gleamed in the campfire, his aspect holding remains of sanity and his hair barely having strands of white. He stared fondly at the two girls, amused and warmed by the joy of his proteges.

-"Please, My Sister!", little Marceline extended the plea, using the name she knew the older girl loved.

Beatrice looked at the girl in her lap with breaf awe, before she hid it behind layer of playfullness, chuckling at her sister's innocent insistance.

-"Alright, alright. One last time!" Little Linlin cheered at that, then snuggled her head in the Beatrice's neck. It felt like home.

The voice started singing, and the adult vampire, standing a tad nearer to the group than she was previously, watched longingly as the melody she knew by heart was murmured again.

'Thank you, i'll say goodbye soon.'

As the continuous loop of words emerged her.

'Though it's the end of the world, don't blame your self now.'

As a buried hope stired up within her.

'And if it's true, i will surround you..'

As the bittersweet dream filled her with an unbearable comfort.

'And give life to a world'

As she craved what the verses promised.

'That's our own.'

[thenightling]

Stating the Obvious: Morpheus has issues

I know I'm probably stating the obvious but I think Morpheus's one-hundred-and-six-years of captivity in The Sandman Netflix series (seventy-two-years in the comics and The Sandman audio drama) effected him heavily, psychologically speaking.

Now before you reply with the "You don't say" meme, I'll elaborate. We know the captivity changed Morpheus. We know it enabled him to reflect on his past and to grow. And it enabled him to feel sympathy for Calliope and act as avenging angel to rescue her from Richard Madoc but the experience also scarred him deeply and caused him to want to die. When they summoned and trapped Morpheus he was stripped of his clothes, his tools, his power, his dignity and his freedom.

"Time moves no faster for my kind than it does humanity and in prison it crawled at a snail's pace." - Morpheus in The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes graphic novel, issue 1 of The Sandman comics, Sleep of the Just, and Chapter 1 of The Sandman audio drama.

Unfortunately the line in the Netflix series doesn't quite make it clear that time doesn't move differently for him than it does for humanity and this probably should have been left in because a lot of people have this misguided idea that for immortals time moves differently and a century is nothing. And it is important to know that for Morpheus this was not nothing. He suffered. And unlike mortals he didn't even have the escape of sleep and dreams because he IS the embodiment of dreams. I feel that there were probably additional psychological side effects to Morpheus's captivity besides the obvious depression, self-reflection, and weakness. For example the trauma of his captivity may have left him claustrophobic. Notice how rare it is that we see Morpheus in any confined spaces for any length of time and when he is in a small space (i.e. rescuing Cluracan during that one story in The Sandman: Worlds' End) he seems more irritable and tense, like he wants to get whatever needs to be done over with as quickly as possible. This could also account for his behavior in Rachel's bedroom when he retrieved his pouch of sand besides casual assholary before Constantine made him realize how wrong his behavior was. Other impacts Morpheus's captivity may have had on him is effecting his ability to trust. He was always, at least a little cynical, but he believed Alexander Burgess when Alex said that if not for his father he would free him. Morpheus believed him and thought Alex would let him go but when Roderick died Alex just left him in there and that broke some aspect of Morpheus that was quick to trust.

Morpheus genuinely expected Alex to let him go. He looked forward to it and anticipated it, thinking it was just a matter of time to wait for Roderick to eventually die but then Alex dashed Morpheus's hope of over ten years because he was scared. Morpheus truly thought Alex would free him and then Alex failed him. Neil Gaiman has been asked, at least twice, on Tumblr if Alex had let Morpheus go, would Morpheus have still cursed him to Eternal Waking (An Endless series of nightmares where you think you're waking up but just enter another nightmare) / eternal sleep or shown mercy. And Neil Gaiman has answered that he would have shown mercy. Also earlier when Alex killed Jessamy for trying to rescue Morpheus- and Alex wanting to prove himself to his father, I think that wounded Morpheus. It made him see a sadism he didn't originally seem to acknowledge in humanity, or had forgotten about, likely because of his friendship with Hob Gadling making him see the better side of human beings. Morpheus seemed to think being captured was one thing, but the murder of his familiar- his raven, his friend (though he wasn't likely to realize it) was crossing some line for him. In short, Morpheus needed therapy. It's too bad he couldn't have met Linda from the Lucifer TV series. Morpheus probably had some form of Post Traumatic Stress. Morpheus needed therapy... Preferably not from Cain...

[fulgrimsrefuse]

On Marazhai's brand

I'm new-ish to 40k (my family was into it, so it was the background radiation for my entire life) so imagine my surprise when I learned that it's been around for this long and there is no functional eldar alphabet because the direction of the worldbuilding just hasn't gone in much on linguistics.

A couple of admirable supernerds have compiled various resources on what we DO have. This for grammar, terminology, and just how context heavy the language is:

This for runes. Some people who got a specific Nocturne of Oblivion ending slide might see something familiar:

Something interesting in the comments:

"I emailed Gav Thorpe 10 years about the eldar runes, and he forwarded my email to Jes Goodwin - here's the reply I got from him: There are three systems of Runic Markings

The Runes used for the aspects and other troop types/concepts. These are the geometric runes that are generally based around the triangle. They are simplified versions of the actual runes that a Warlock/farseer uses to divine the potential futures in a given situation. The are based on the use of the Norse Futhark for divination, although their forms are not nordic.

Eldar script. This is the stuff behind the eldar headers. These have no ascribed meanings, I.e there is no 'alphabet' of them. These are generally cursive and we use them in various places to give flavour, they sometimes include elements from the runes [Which would give them a kanji-like relationship to the runes] and are sometimes more blocky/simplified as on the warning markings on vehicles.

Eldar Seals. These are the complex symbols found on Titan Banners and on the back of the Wraithlord. They are used to represent the seals of Noble Houses or the Bonesinger schools of design. They are based on the idea of the Turkish 'Tugrah' , complex signature seals associated with the Ottoman Empire, meant to stop forgeries. To summarise, the forms of all the symbols don't have a single real world source, but their functions are influenced by real world sources"

I was just curious and wanted to know if we could build Marazhai's name out of what we do have from these sources. A lot of words beginning in "Mar-" seem to refer to death or death related ideas, and "Zai" is a known name meaning "morning". But there's nothing that I found in a written form for those sounds.

They do have a rune for Ynnead, their god of the dead, which looks like this:

Eldar runes can stand for an idea and not just one letter per sound. If this is their rune for a god of death, I'm making the wild assumption that somewhere in that rune is something that could be read as "Mar-". Since we have no idea how to properly "read" that rune, I just tried looking at their lettering runes for shapes in common with this, ssssort of like how kanji multiradicals work since that was the given example.

(Sort of. Kind of. If you squint at it and look at it sideways, maybe.)

It's a doomed prospect, because once you go looking at the runes, it becomes increasingly clear none of this follows any logic, or maybe it's just logic my simple mon-keigh brain lacks.

So, possibilities for "Mar-":

(Not quite, but close. Chalk up the difference to calligraphy styles, maybe)

(again, only close, but radicals in kanji can look subtly different depending on where in a given character they appear, so I just shrugged and said fine, elf logic.)

(Also only close, also operating off of elf logic.)

As for "Zai", the sun does appear as a pretty recognizable shape in some runes, like these:

(Craftworld Lugganath)

Without a linguistics person at GW telling us how to read this stuff, I say we have pretty free rein to figure out what the heck Marazhai burns into our necks. Like, we don't even know if it's read left to right, up or down. So I just made something up as an example, using what I posted above:

Trying for a balance of "relatively easy to burn into a person before they pass out from shock" and "cute", though it is missing the jaggy quality of Drukhari lettering. This is just an idea though, y'all go wild and have fun!

If you are a 40k lorehound and you think I'm W R O N G that's fine, I only got into this hobby a couple months ago. I'm curious if you know more about eldar writing, actually!

Edit: lmao how did I miss the literal “zhai” entry. I’ll try that later.

Edit 2: I tried it later. https://www.tumblr.com/fulgrimsrefuse/741450381287096320/on-marazhais-brand-2?source=share

[pr3ttym3l]

Midnight blossom <3 (a nightowl fanfic)

In the lively world of a Discord server dedicated to the visual novel "Blooming Panic," two distinct personalities intertwined in an unexpected way. Nightowl, a name that reflected his nocturnal habits, was known for his energetic personality and his habit of staying up late. His presence on the server was like a whirlwind of enthusiasm and chatter, always up for discussing the latest trends or sharing interesting facts. On the other side of the digital space was Y/N, a calm and introspective soul who loved reading, baking, and finding solace in the quiet moments of life. Her messages were thoughtful and reflective, bringing a sense of tranquility to the server’s vibrant discussions. One September evening, as the server buzzed with excitement over new content, Nightowl’s lively messages caught Y/N’s attention. He was talking about the impact of visual novels on storytelling, a topic that intrigued Y/N despite her initial hesitations about the game. Curious about his passionate perspective, Y/N decided to join the conversation. “You make a good point about the narrative depth in visual novels. Have you ever thought about how different mediums can influence storytelling?” Nightowl was delighted to find someone who shared his interest in storytelling. “Absolutely! It’s fascinating how different forms can bring out various aspects of a story. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on this!” What began as a casual chat about visual novels soon blossomed into deeper discussions about their favorite books, hobbies, and life philosophies. Y/N was intrigued by Nightowl’s boundless energy and his knack for finding joy in the little things. Nightowl, in turn, was captivated by Y/N’s serene outlook and her passion for baking and reading.Their late-night conversations became a cherished ritual. Nightowl would often pop into the chat with stories about his latest adventures or interesting trivia, while Y/N shared anecdotes from her day and recipes for her latest baking creations. One evening, as autumn leaves began to fall outside Y/N’s window, their chat took a more personal turn. Nightowl, who had been sharing tales of his recent late-night explorations, noticed Y/N’s subtle hints about her own dreams. “You talk a lot about baking and reading. Do you have any big dreams related to that?” Y/N’s eyes lit up as she responded. “I’ve always dreamed of opening a cozy bookstore-café where I could share my love for both. It’s something I’m working towards, though it’s still a bit of a dream.” Nightowl’s enthusiasm was palpable. “That sounds incredible! I’d love to help in any way I can. Maybe I could brainstorm some ideas for the café or help with promotion when the time comes.” Their conversation continued late into the night, filled with dreams and plans. As winter approached, Nightowl’s thoughtful message brought warmth to Y/N’s heart. “I’ve been thinking about your bookstore-café. I’d love to visit when it opens. We could celebrate with some late-night chats and, of course, your amazing baked goods.” Y/N felt a rush of warmth at his words. She replied, “I’d love that. And maybe, just maybe, we can create a special corner in the café inspired by our late-night conversations.” Their connection, which began in the realm of a Discord server, grew into a meaningful relationship. Nightowl and Y/N continued to inspire and support each other, turning their shared dreams into a beautiful reality. Through their midnight chats and shared passions, they discovered that sometimes, the most unexpected encounters could lead to the most fulfilling journeys.

[sloshed-cinema]

Tár (2022)

If Mahler stated that a symphony should be the world, then Lydia Tár’s professional symphony is crumbling around her.  This is a story of grooming and professional corruption, about using power to take advantage of others and exploit them for what you desire.  Yet Todd Field resisted the urge to make a simple Harvey Weinstein type story, opting instead to use the incredibly specific and incredibly dense palette of classical music and the orchestral industry as his palette.  The movie doesn’t hold the viewer’s hand in the least; from moment one, references and nods are flying fast and loose, calling out everyone from Furtwängler and Karajan to Marin Alsop and Michael Tilson Thomas.  Hildur Guðnadóttir plays a clever double-role, mentioned by name alongside peers such as Jennifer Higdon but also furnishing elements of the diegetic and non-diegetic soundscape.  Extended rehearsal sequences in Tár’s pidgin German play out free of subtitles.  The minutiae of orchestral union proceedings are debated time and again.  All of these references, all of this time, all of this vocabulary is necessary to establish the zealous obsession that surrounds the craft for Tár.  She has crafted her whole identity around being the next soothsayer of the Western canon, the protégée of Bernstein himself.  More importantly, it’s a veneer of legitimacy.  It’s clear from the start that the maestro is less than “politically correct”: a dressing-down of a Juilliard student regarding his opinions on contemporary art music and views on Bach steps beyond the pale of a misguided tough love approach and more into the territory of personal attack.  But this is a pattern.  Fields approaches the everyday administrative details of Tár’s life with the same meticulousness.  Insidious little instances begin to float to the surface, indicating a predatory tendency that others notice and become increasingly intolerant toward.  The camera lingers on Lydia’s assistant Francesca as she lip-syncs her boss’s plaudits during a public interview, casts furtive glances or begins to wonder why she’s being asked certain things.  Even the matter of handing over a laptop becomes a dangerous prospect.  And the conductor’s wife and colleague, concertmaster Sharon Goodnow, becomes increasingly disillusioned with Tár’s actions as a new affair begins to become apparent in newcomer cellist Olga.  In this sense, the deliberate and clinical handling of camera in many scenes begins to build a case against the maestro, feeling in beats almost akin to The Assistant.  A specific event involving a fellow for a program Tár started for women conductors lingers in the shadows, eluded to but never fully elucidated.  Krista Taylor had no prospects in the field after Tár torpedoed her career.  The maestro insists this was due to Taylor’s mental instability, but other evidence suggests that there was a revenge aspect to this.  The fantasy life of private jets and book talks can be ripped away so quickly.

And yet the fantasy of it all does have its place in the tapestry of this narrative.  As with music, there is room for ambiguity here, space to interpret.  Especially in the back half of the film, Field calls into question Tár’s state of mind through her troubled dreams and strange nocturnal discoveries.  Distorted images of the women in her life haunt her, intertwined with moments in the Amazon recalling her past ethnomusicological work.  Yet as things begin to unravel and Tár loses the thread, the nature of objective reality becomes more tenuous.  As with the scandal reveal, it’s subtle at first.  In her rehearsal home, the maestro is haunted by a persistent doorbell sound, which heartbreakingly later turns out to be the elderly woman next door in distress.  The legacy of Krista Taylor’s fallout and eventual suicide comes in the form of labyrinthine drawings which appear in gift book inscriptions, metronome faces, or formed in clay in her adoptive daughter’s room.  Just where these come from or who makes them is never made explicit, but that doesn’t make them any less haunting for Tár.  As she courts Olga, or seduces her, the cellist becomes ever more disillusioned with Tár just as she becomes more elusive.  At one point, Tár chases Olga into the seemingly abandoned building where she perhaps resides, only to find the cellist vanished, seemingly a figment of her imagination.  Descending into the basement, she instead finds a fox or a wolf, her predatory nature turning back on her.  Ghosts haunt the periphery. By the time it has all fallen away, she rushes onto the stage mid-performance, attacking her impostor, claiming the score for herself.  It’s her work, she alone can interpret it.  Utterly fallen from grace, the final sequences play out like a sort of bizarro-world fantasy.  New York is no longer a place of glamour, but an ugly outer borough rail station, everything drab and grey and muddy.  Her final gig is the coup de grace.  She is engaged to perform a Japanese work for a Southeast Asian concert hall.  The final shot is a bitterly funny punch in the gut: she’s at the bottom of the barrel, performing video game music for a rapt audience of cosplayers.  Goodbye haughty, lofty concert halls.  

Noémie Merlant, Nina Hoss, and Sophie Kauer all turn in strong, nuanced performances.  But Cate Blanchett is the obvious powerhouse here.  She’s fun as the haughty, dismissive maestro who knows just how it’s all done.  This makes her fall all the more pathetic, not even able to see her daughter.  It’s a late scene which cements just how hard this has all hit her, and a brilliant piece of acting from Blanchett.  Sitting alone at her old family home in New York with a childhood field hockey medal around her neck, Tár watches a recording of one of Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts where he describes how music can be used to communicate ideas words cannot.  Her face says it all: this is her whole world still, but now she no longer can access it, by her own hand.  She controlled time with her baton, but she cannot control others in the same fashion.

THE RULES

PICK ONE

Select either MAHLER FIVE or the ELGAR CELLO CONCERTO and sip whenever that work is mentioned.

SIP

Someone name-drops a composer or conductor.

The narrative transitions to a new city.

Lydia calls someone a robot.

A scene contains a language other than English spoken in dialogue.

BIG DRINK

A labyrinth is drawn on something.

Tár cuts off the orchestra during rehearsal.

[blossommoonwrites]

NOCTURNAL CANDLES: Mayblade 2024, day 3 - Candles

Series: Sweet Dreams Fandom: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade Genre: General/Romance Setting: Delhi, India, and Kai's dream. Characters: Kai Hiwatari, Julia Fernandez Pairings: Kai/Julia Rating: T Summary: The candle's flame may go off, but the radiance and glow remain.

FFN | AO3

The Bladebreakers were on a trip to India. All except Kai were in their rooms, sleeping peacefully. The dual-haired wandered in the streets of the subcontinent's capital. It was Winter in Delhi. The chill air flirted with his scarf, which fluttered wildly against the breeze. He bought some coffee and sipped on it slowly. His glances showered the vast sky that was infinite and beautiful. The mist blinded some parts of the city, but Kai was able to manage and walk past them. The culture was rich, yet some states had a poor economy. He stood in front of the Indian gate and saw the surroundings. Long walks were a hassle for Takao, but not for Kai. He felt relaxed and content after a couple of months.

"Hmm." Kai closed his eyes and enjoyed the peace coming from inside. He braced his scarf further to protect himself from the cold.

He turned and saw someone familiar. He knew her but never talked to her for once. She is none other than Julia, the captain of F-sangre. She was wearing a trenchcoat with her messy hair fluttering in the wind. Kai was never into girls, yet he found her pretty. Of course, he doesn't have anything romantic for her. Julie gave a side-eye and her jaw dropped. Kai quickly turned back, pretending not to see her.

"I know it was you, Kai. I never expected to see you here," she remarked and walked to him.

"I clarified if it was you, nothing more," Kai walked away from her. Julia was stunned by his attitude. She seethed and said, "You have no manners for sure."

Kai stopped along his trance and turned back. He gave a 'hnn' before he started again. "You do know about me, after all. But, there is so much you still aren't aware of," he smirked and walked off. She can never understand guys like Kai, or even guys in general.

Julia walked back to the hotel she was staying in. Coincidentally, it was the same place where the Bladebreakers were staying. She saw Kai reporting to the reception before he walked to the room. His room was somewhere on the second floor. Hers was on the fourth floor.

Kai knocked on the door several times, but Takao was fast asleep. Kai facepalmed. He informed Takao that he would be out. It was his fault too, he should've thought twice before roaming out. He gave up. He decided to sleep on the corridors until Takao would show up.

"Your roomie is not opening the door, pathetic," Julia mocked. She smirked and leaned against the wall.

"I can sleep here, I don't need your help."

Julia sighed and walked to him, "I knew you wanted to sleep on a cozy blanket this winter. Don't lie. I can give you room. Come with me."

Kai blushed at the thought of sleeping next to a girl. He couldn't help but accept her offer. She chuckled. Kai felt dreamy. She was beautiful. He smirked and followed her to the room.

It was the same as his's, except the aspect was different. They removed their coats and scarves and hung them. Julia grabbed her nightgown and went inside the restroom. She returned a few minutes later.

"Make yourself comfortable," Julia assured him. He sat on the sofa.

"Come to the bed!" she exclaimed. Kai blushed.

Julia's cheeks turned beet. She gasped, 'Wait, did he assume that I…'

"No, I didn't think like that. I-uhh… just… um… don't sleep beside girls… you know. I hate sleeping with Takao too, he is a loud, snorty kid. I hate his snoring, ugh."

Julia burst out laughing at Kai's remarks.

"Alright, I'm going to turn the lights off. Have a good night's sleep."

Julia shared the blanket with him.

"Am I troubling you, girl?" he asked.

"I've been feeling lonely since my brother is not here. He's on a date with his new girlfriend. It's nice to have you as my companion. Just get some sleep."

"Well, promise me one thing. Don't tell Takao or anyone that I stayed with you this night. He'll never get enough of me once he learns about that. I will have a tough time dealing with that doofus," Kai mumbled.

"Sure, I'll take care of it, but by the time I wake up, you will not be there," Julia mocked. Kai sighed and was frustrated with her remarks.

She turned the lights off and lit a candle. Kai felt the illuminating presence and turned to see her. She kept that on the thick yet flat headboard of the bed.

"Do you love candles?" Kai asked her.

"I do, they are beautiful. I'm going to purchase some of them tomorrow in the market. The Indian candles seem to be lovely. I'd love to have some."

"Nice," he gently smiled.

In a few minutes, Julia was fast asleep. Kai struggled since he was with a girl, all alone. He brought the candle towards her to see the breathtaking face. He laid the strands of her hair on her ear. "You are beautiful, of course. I hope you get more candles like these. They'll make your face glow."

Kai placed the candle aside and drifted off. He dreamed of Julia in a beautiful Indian outfit and makeover, with the room decorated with beautiful curtains, rose petals, and cushions. Red shawls were hung along the corners covering the bed. She held a big candle, waiting for Kai to lie by her side. The dark room was illuminated with beautiful candles around the confines of the room. Her smile was radiant the moment Kai came to her.

"Come close, Kai. I need you by my side this night."

Kai climbed on the bed and faced the beautiful girl. His fingers crawled on her cheek and drew her closer.

"I will never leave this radiant beauty," his amethyst eyes were interlocked with her emerald ones. His hands slowly crawled down to grab her by the waist.

"I will make this night memorable for you," he whispered into her ears.

...

The next morning, Julia woke up to see Kai still fast asleep. She didn't expect to see him by her side. He was cute. The candle was gone, but the glow and radiance were still on his face.

[halfagone]

Greetings! I am new here and I was wondering what your thoughts are on the power difference between Danny and his evil self. With the recent graphic novel clarifying that he was as strong as he was because he absorbed Vlad’s powers in addition to his one, would it be impossible for Danny to reach the level his evil self was at before the events of the graphic novel? Or do you believe Danny gaining the ghostly wail years before he was supposed to is a possible sign that he will eventually surpass him?

Greetings and salutations! Happy to see a newcomer! :D

Now this might differ from person to person, depending on their headcanons or how they interpret canon events, but I do believe that Danny has the potential to surpass his evil self.

You are right to say that part of my reasoning for this is because he gained his ghostly wail much earlier on than his evil version did. But in general Danny has been shown to learn new abilities depending on the ghostly foe he faces, such as dream-walking due to Nocturn's hold on Amity Park or using his newly realized ice powers to defeat Undergrowth. Some of that might just be plot armor, but if we wanted to incorporate that into an in-universe explanation, I think a more logical way to go about it would be to attribute it to how his powers or biology as a whole work.

One interesting aspect that the graphic novel showed us is how closely connected Danny's state of mind affected his ghostly powers. Of course there are multiple interpretations, and so far we don't know for certain how much Vlad's own nature and personality affected Danny's evil self. But even if we don't consider Vlad at all, there could be an explanation for it!

In real life, when you're close-minded you don't tend to learn new things, because you're simply not open to learning. Danny's evil self was wrapped up in his own anger and mourning, and perhaps in part his own self-loathing, that he refused to look anywhere else but destroying the world, thinking it would give him the satisfaction he wanted and/or needed. (Or thought he needed, anyways.) In a way that did push him into learning too, but only after ten years when an obstacle got in his way and forced him to.

Danny, on the other hand, the one we all know and love, is still very much a kid. He has the time to grow and learn and experience the world. We've seen how powerful he is at this stage, imagine how powerful he could be in maybe five years' time, with more experience under his belt and a more level-head on his shoulders?

All things goes back to your first question, to which I'll reply: I don't think it's impossible at all, I think it's very likely when we consider the larger scope of his opponents and battles.

[insidethekaleidoscope]

7, 23, 35, 45, 49

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

Hmm... I don't really know that I've done that much to expand on the mechanics of the existing universe, but one detail that I think I've stuck in a few places is the existence of bureaucratic self-help pamphlets distributed to agents by DEPRAC. I just kind of found it darkly humorous to imagine a bunch of adult recommending things like long baths and sleep hygiene to kids who are nocturnal and fighting for their lives every night.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I love a good time-loop. I can't say I've got any plans for it, but it is one of my favorites tropes. I do also like amnesia/lost memories. Again, no plans, but seems like it could be fun.

35. What aspects of your writing are completely unlike your real life?

Oooh, well I've thankfully not experienced the type of catastrophic loss that Lockwood and Lucy have. It's more so just brushed up against my life. Also, being culturally Jewish, I think an obsession with grief is somewhat baked in.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

I truly have such a hard time judging my own writing, but I think I've gotten better at cutting out pieces that I'm attached to but just don't quite fit where I've put them - so, like, pacing maybe. That and convincing myself to finish things. That's a not insignificant part of the reason I started writing fan fiction in the first place (aside from the brainworms...). I'm a chronic hoarder of snippets, but I could never convince myself to fill in the in between parts without a plan for what I would do with the finished piece.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

More of Give the Flowers to the Living :)

This is still a ways out from where we're at, but I just never do write things in order 🤷🏻‍♀️

After that he must have fallen asleep for a bit because when he opened his eyes next, Lucy was leaning over him. His mind still felt foggy and slow, so for a long moment he just assumed he was dreaming, and he let himself stare baldly up at her. The early morning sunlight that brightened the room filtered in through the leaves of the apple tree outside his window, and he watched in fascination as the dappled light flickered over the curve of her cheek and caught in her eyelashes and a few little wisps of curls that had fallen out of place.

[aikoiya]

DP HC - Nocturn (My Style)

Nocturn is a dirty shipper & everyone needs to know about it.

He was the ghost equivalent of aroace, or was it demi? There were so many blasted sexualities these days, he couldn't keep track of them all. Regardless, he didn't feel romantic or sexual attraction to anyone besides a single individual.

Well, he didn't have sexual urges, period. The act has never really made him uncomfortable, he just doesn't naturally crave it the way others do. Closeness & physical affection? Absolutely! He l♡ves it! Sex? It's just not something he craves or goes out of his way to pursue unless he's feeling particularly clingy & affectionate as he very much enjoys the closeness involved in the act.

He does find it both physically pleasurable & enjoyable, as well as interesting as a form of social/interpersonal bonding between romantic partners, though. He also feels it's his responsibility to satisfy his wife's urges, so he's never really objected to the act.

As a result of his lack of desire for sexual gratification, his kinks are generally pretty vanilla. Mostly revolving around praise & taking care of his partner. Just physical affection. As an aside, he turns out to be a switch & fits naturally into the role of Service Top. He is always willing to indulge his love in her own kinks, though. So long as they aren't disgusting or unsanitary, he's willing to try just about anything. Thankfully, she really doesn't.

Yet, paradoxically, he's also a deeply romantic soul who loved romance stories & novels.

Finds the interpersonal relationships of others interesting regardless of whether they be romantic, filial, philial, or platonic & is a filthy gossip.

He enjoys giving people dreams that reveal to them things that they might not have entirely known about themselves, especially in accordance with their relationships to other people.

Romance, of course, being his favorite.

He was also known in the Infinite Realms for being a bit of a matchmaker. It didn't always work out, but he did have a higher success rate than quite a few. Though, not anywhere near as high as ghosts whose actual Obsessions were with matchmaking, but that made perfect sense.

It was just a hobby of his after all & his lack of interest in such things for himself beyond the only one he'd ever had (& ever cared to have) did sometimes cause him to miss certain things as it meant that he didn't always fully understand certain aspects of such relationships.

He was only as good as he was through trial, error, & extensive observation. He imagines that if he had such inclinations, then he'd likely have better success, but considering everything, he'd like to think that he does pretty well even if he said so himself.

While he made it seem like he overtook Amity for malicious reasons, in reality, he was just being a dirty shipper again. Though, he could've accomplished his goal by simply sprinkling the 2 in question with his sleep sand & left with them none-the-wiser, he figured that he could also have a bit of fun while he was at it.

It was occasionally exciting to play the part of the villain. ♡

He typically doesn't control the actual contents of the dreams he gives beyond little nudges & a general point in the desired direction. For example, when he concentrates on nightmares, they have nightmares. He enforces sweet dreams, they get sweet dreams. He wishes for... well... wet dreams, then so be it. So, it goes for sweet romantic dreams as well.

Most things beyond that were formed by their own psyche.

Giving soulmates romantic dreams was especially easy, the ghost boy & his gothic friend even more so. The reason being that the pair actually had a dormant psychic connection that they likely didn't realize, meaning they had probably been together in several lifetimes before their current one. Because of this, all he had to do was sprinkle them both, conjure sweet romanticism, then bring that preexisting psychic link they had to the surface.

This resulted in their subconsciouses working together to create a single romantic scene that they both deeply wished for & shared.

It was one of his favorite sorts of dreams; a mutually agreed upon one. ♡

Not that he couldn't control every single nuance of a dream if he wanted to. He just chooses to save that sort of thing for extremely important dreams such as prophetic ones. If someone needed to know the future, but weren't specifically psychic themselves, then Clockwork informed him & he would give Nocturn the exact description of what needed to be seen. These sorts of dreams took an above average amount of energy out of Nocturn.

The pair tended to work together rather well. Then again, Clockwork was his great grandfather afterall.

Hmm... he hadn't thought about his life as Hypnos in quite a long time, let alone Clockwork's life as Chronos Aeon. Maybe he should visit his twin sometime? Thanatos could get lonely at times.

See, Nocturn wasn't actually dead. Nor was he a true ghost. Rather, he was merely sleeping & astral projecting himself. When awake, which was rarely, his wife, Pasithea, & his kids, Morpheus, Phobetor, & Phantasos, were all he needed.

He & Pasithea didn't have the most traditional relationship as a result of his only having experienced attraction upon getting to know her, specifically. Because of this, he'd been rather the fish out of water when courting her.

His Darling Daydream had been so wonderful, though. Very patient with his bumbling, trying to immitate the grand stories he knew rather than letting things happen organically! ♡

It was actually their love of romance that they first bonded over.

Young love was grand, wasn't it? ♡♡

Anyway, in reality, he didn't actually need those helmets to put people to sleep nor even to keep them that way. It was just an easy macguffin for the little Phantom to latch onto & overcome in order to save the day.

He was delighted to hear that the Tutelary Psychopomp had gotten together with the little Gothic Dryad in the end. ♡

I also like @thesoulspulse's idea where they said that "Nocturne uses threads from the Tapestry of Fate to weave hints of someone’s past or future into their dreams while Clockwork monitors the timeline directly & sees more possible outcomes based on a person’s choices. Sadly, Nocturne’s method while effective isn’t perfect since he can’t see the full picture ironically, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to do what he can."

They also said, "So this Nocturne has the power to read the threads that make up the Tapestry of Fate and weave them into the dreams of others with the help of his Dream Weavers (aka my replacement for Sleepwalkers) and the 3 Fates themselves. These threads can show him fragments of someones past or possible future which is why he uses his powers to indirectly guide them and help point them in the right direction or warn them of incoming dangers."

And, "Only Clockwork can see the full picture though which means Nocturne often has to ask for his council in more serious matters the threads have shown him since its pretty easy for him to misinterpret the dreams woven from them. After all, Nocturne is the Master of Dreams, not Time. And yet both of them have important roles to play in the grand scheme of things."

It works well with my idea of him. It also sort of ties into the idea that he might be Hypnos.

For more, go to my full Ghost Zone Masterlist.

[doblehkiin]

❗❗❗Long ask jumpscare warning ❗❗❗

idk if you still want asks but I thought I would talk about my 14-year-old self's extremely self-indulgent edgelord. He's changed a lot but I still adore him.

His name is Wencen Loresaris, he's my Snow Elf rogue. I've probably talked about him before, but I wanted to talk about his gimmick.

Lore's character gimmick is that he's several cryptids in the various regions of Skyrim, later being both Listener and Guildmaster. No one knows that these entities are one person.

Some behavioral context; Lore is always on the move, and kills people who look at him for too long. The more they see, the more they can describe, and then they can notice patterns. Patterns lead to conclusions, and conclusions will lead to his own death. Kids are the only exception. Everyone else has to die. Also, Lore operates at night. In the day, he rests in caves, sometimes sharing the space with an animal. He also uses nature magic that is unfamiliar to

Secrecy + old, forgotten nature magic he uses to get by + being centuries old himself = folklore.

In Hjaalmarch, he's considered a good omen and protector. He guides lost children home by taking the illusory form of a wolf and sheparding them back to Morthal. This led to him being called Fenrisulfr, which means 'Swamp wolf'. As thanks, locals started leaving offerings in a ruin up north. After that, the next harvests were especially bountiful. Due to his protection of children and the wolf motifs, he's seen as an aspect or spirit of Mara. It's custom for newly-weds to make a pilgrimage to Fenrisulfr's ruins and leave some of the wedding dowry.

Falkreath considers him a specter of Sithis that takes souls into the void. The Brotherhood operating in the area enforces the idea. Rather than being a reaper, he's the Seedsman, as flowers sprout in graveyards when he's in the area. They're used to death imagery, but the shadow in the cemetery is seen as someone being taken from you a second time, and the flowers are from the person's true and final passing-on. As such, they feel bitterness towards the Seedsman, even if they honor that its his duty. The flowers left are thought to indicate what kind of person the deceased was in life. Black dahlias always grow from the graves of Companions. Falkreath seeks their mercenary work elsewhere, in recent centuries.

He is most feared in the Rift. Remember that bit about Lore being nocturnal, couch-surfing with animals in the day, and killing people if they make too much contact?

The Rift is popular hunting ground. Hunters tend to track their prey—which is typically nocturnal and asleep in the day—back to their caves.

Getting netted, shot, or dogs sicced on you by a pack of hunters—while you're sleeping—is considered too much contact for Lore.

The impact was the lack of witnesses or survivors. The only evidence of something killing hunters, was the hunters' journals. Sometimes one or two get away, and write about the Thing they disturbed. It's only a matter of time before the Thing catches up to them. Search parties only find a shakily-written tale of an odd, not-of-this-world Thing. This creature was called the Something. Veteran Rift hunters know to go for their prey in the open, rather than by surprise in its sleep.

When told these legends, Lore is known to laugh, cough politely, and remember he has an errand.

edgelords are the best kind of oc's imo i don't care if that's controversial we all need a good edgelord. we also just need more falmer oc's. I love every single falmer oc I come across.

I love that you incorporated like, rituals with him being a cryptid cause he could just be like, a normal cryptid that people just whisper about but firstly nords love them some rituals and practices so that makes sense, but also it adds so much depth to his role as a cryptid.

i wish i was a cryptid in real life, he really is living my dream life i'm so jealous

[sweetgardener]

So I wrote some Luchino x Emma and I am forcing it upon you

"..And what exactly are you doing up this late?" Questioned the hunter, looking down at the sleepy survivor. It was about...three in the morning, the stars and moon still out. Said sleepy survivor was sporting a pair of plain pajamas, while the hunter wore only pajama trousers.

The hunter would give a little head tilt, amber eyes looking her up and down. The survivor let out another yawn, rubbing her eyes.

"I had a nightmare...it's silly, I know.."

That would explain it. Miss Woods is not the first survivor he's seen wandering around the manor at night after a bad dream or two. Granted he only saw such things because he had his fair share of rough sleep and wandered too, at times to the survivor side to be nosey.

"Hm..Might a nightly walk settle your mind?" Was he offering? Sure, it couldn't hurt to do so. The woman seemed to visibly perk up at this, giving a eager nod. The hunter felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, holding out his hand to the survivor. She took it without a second thought and the two began to walk, heading down the hall, down the stairs and into the garden.

The garden itself was beautiful during the day, but it was even more so during the night. Little moths flitting about in the moonlight, the more nocturnal plants blossoming and thriving. Though a dense fog remained around the perimeter of the manor, it barely reached the garden.

The two walked the smooth stone path to a tree, still full of leaves. It was summer time, after all. Settling under the shade and shelter of the branches, Luchino watched as the small gardener got comfortable in his lap, resting her head on his chest, looking up at him. Her green eyes, taking in every aspect of his appearance, filled with adoration and wonder. He looked down at her in return, taking note of the slight mess her hair was in. Humming a soft tune, He fiddled and brushed her hair, tidying it with just his fingers. Emma closed her eyes at that, finding the action soothing and sweet.