#Roland knew

[libartz]

Gosh the best part of Absolution was the way Lacklon was like

Lacklon: Ugh I’m just here for the money, I don’t even like any of you people

Roland: *does anything*

Lacklon: 🫣🥺😤🥵

[nmoroder]

All the centrefolds that you can't afford Have long since waved their last goodbye

[family-on-6]

the brennan simps are gonna go crazy for this one

[soracities]

Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse: Fragments (trans. Richard Howard) [ID in ALT]

[itsatigersharkidiot]

Day One: Snow Day! ❄️

if you remember this vine, I love you

(Connors taking the photo btw)

[pollokima]

bro rlly went 😼

[francois1030]

This place is nuts!

[longfurbybitchboi]

Brennan lee Mulligan how fucking dare you do A crown of Candy

It’s episode 9

I want Aabria’s Burrow’s End

She better not do some fucked up shit to those stoats

[ymkse]

something something butch poke lady

[schumi-nadal]

Novak’s speech about Casper was everything 🥹✨

[thecatkennel]

a certain group of fixers

individual sprite section!!

[narastories]

there is a performer who wants you on the stage a little longer

Again, if you're not a Punishing: Gray Raven fan: don't worry about this.

Unless you are curious and/or concerned about my sanity seeing the tags, of course, I welcome questions in that case lol

For PGR fans this is just your run-of-the-mill, soft, mildly poetic Commandant/Construct fic, but I'm a little concerned that it might come across as highly weird for anyone else ^^" Fandom: 战双帕弥什 | Punishing: Gray Raven Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Commandant/Roland (Punishing: Gray Raven) Characters: Roland (Punishing: Gray Raven), Commandant (Punishing: Gray Raven), Reader Tags: Present Tense, POV Third Person, (1st Chapter), POV Second Person, (2nd Chapter), POV Alternating, ambigously gendered Commandant, with they/them pronouns, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Waking from Coma, spoilers up until the beginning of Chapter 17, and Roland's affection story, I wrote it for myself but you can read it too, The Author Regrets Everything, Game Logic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

In Evernight Beat, Roland had a hand in the events that led to the Commandant's injury. Let's say, he doesn't feel very good about that.

Read on AO3

Listen to my random audio moodboard

[doom-dreaming]

Fic idea: he hasn't slept in weeks, except for a number of naps he can count on one hand. It's been nearly a month, and it's catching up to him in his quarters— he's yawning a couple of times, his sharp blue eyes are tired, and there are slight eyebags. He's never been this tired, he thinks. cortana notices this, and he insists he doesn't need sleep, and obviously, he's stubborn about it.

"I'm fine."

"You're falling asleep standing up."

"I'm fine, Cortana."

"Oh, what, you think if you repeat yourself louder I'll leave you alone? You know me better than that." She crosses her arms and tries to lean into his line of sight. He still wouldn't look at her. Stubborn bastard. "You've been running on adrenaline and thirty-minute naps for three weeks. Almost four."

"Nothing I haven't done before."

"That's the point I'm trying to make. You're not on assignment. You don't have to run yourself ragged for Palmer's training drills." She thinks she sees his eyes flick toward her, just for a second. "...a few hours, that's all I'm asking."

He turns toward the door without saying a word, but she's faster. There's an audible 'click-beep!' as the door locks and the light on the keypad goes red.

He stops in his tracks, but still doesn't turn toward the holodeck. She's expecting to hear her name again, but what comes out instead - in an annoyed growl - is, "Roland."

She can feel the other AI moving through Infinity's mainframe, quicker than lightning, focusing on this room, this holodeck. "Roland!" she snaps, just as his gold glow is starting to layer over her blue. "Do not open that door for him!"

Lovers' quarrel? Roland teases, tactfully keeping the comment inaudible to the human occupant of the room.

Cortana spears him with the digital equivalent of a glare and he backs off. Slightly. The golden light flickers and fades from the holodeck, but she can still feel part of him close by, curious. She doesn't bother chasing him off completely, even as irritating as it is to have him watching over her metaphorical shoulder. "I'm not unlocking that door until you sleep," she grouses at John's still-turned back.

"You're being ridiculous."

"Oh, I'm being ridiculous?!" How could a man be so smart and so stupid at the same time? "You're the one refusing to sleep until you—" she tosses her hands in the air, not that he can see it, "—drop dead, apparently!"

"Commander Palmer's expecting me in forty-five minutes."

"No, she's not. I told her you were unavailable." At this, he finally turns to face her. She's expecting to see annoyance, at the very least, but what she mostly sees instead is...fatigue. The petulant determination in his eyes is no match for the shadows around them. He's exhausted and he knows he is... It doesn't add up.

The energy between them shifts. The fight flooding her code ebbs away. It ripples out like waves, loosening threads of herself she didn't even realize had been wound so tightly, until all she's left with is the overwhelming desire to figure out what's wrong with her Spartan. "...why won't you sleep?"

His jaw tightens and he breaks eye contact, focusing on the floor instead.

She feels Roland finally retreat as her concern spikes higher and she sends a wordless 'thank you' after him. John still hasn't answered. She doesn't push him. Slowly, she sits, prepared to wait as long as he needs. Silence had never been uncomfortable between them, but she finds herself wishing she didn't have to be confined to the holodeck. She wants to reach out, to put a hand on his arm, steady him somehow. Reassure him. It'd been so nice, all those years ago. Circumstances aside, obviously.

His chest deflates in a sigh. "Dreams haven't been too friendly lately."

She hums her acknowledgement. They'd never really talked much about dreams - she usually wasn't in his head when he was having them - but she knew they could be strange. And sometimes painful. Sedatives wouldn't help; he had told her that, once. They forced him deeper, made things more vivid. "...I dreamed, you know. When I was..." she gestures vaguely toward the ceiling. "Out there." She didn't know if that was technically true. She didn't know what dreaming felt like. She knew what it looked like, neurologically, but if that was anything close to what she'd experienced... She doesn't particularly care about the semantics right now. That isn't what he needs. "Mind if I talk about it?"

He takes the bait. She watches him cross the room to his bunk, sitting heavily. "As long as they're good."

His voice is rougher than usual, edged with sleep deprivation, but she can hear the relief, the settling calm. He's grateful to have something else to focus on. She musters a smile and dims the lights. "I wouldn't have offered if they weren't." It was a white lie. Harmless in the short term, forgivable in the long term.

And she begins. Pointedly, at first. Stringing together half-truths of the best parts of what she'd seen, embellishing where necessary. He's horizontal after five minutes, on the brink of unconsciousness after ten. She doesn't stop talking. Not after his breathing has finally slowed into a deep, even rhythm. Not after an hour. Not after two. Not after three. She feels Roland swing by again, but he doesn't bother her, just sends curiosity-contentment-happiness toward her in a rapid succession of data pulses. She echoes back the last two and he's on his way again.

It feels good to be able to say what had been trapped inside her head for months, to try to make sense of it all. And to be able to say it to John without the expectation of any response. She doesn't want to put the weight of it - the reality of it - on his shoulders, too. Not really. She could figure it out by herself. And she would, eventually. But right now? She's just happy to hear nothing but the soft breathing of her Spartan in reply as he, finally, sleeps.

[hautaaja]

from Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes

[randomnameless]

@themoomoorn replied to your post “Genuine question, not trying to start a fight, why...”:

My favorite TS tidbit where you get the Golden Ending is that if you keep Roland safe, then the ideal goal is to not set poor Avlora on fire with Wolffort's fire traps, as that would be reprehensible. No, you don't use them there because the right thing to do is to instead use said traps on Exharme and his standing army! 🤦

​But you see Exharme BaD Benedict said so !

[unproduciblesmackdown]

costume design, set mockup, and rehearsal photos from this guide to the show that's like really thorough in providing Context like, mini articles about the creators of the original movie, musical, and movie musical, about other versions of productions, the history, quotes of other commentary, interview quotes, context of other / preexisting genres like b movies, faustian stories, "what if a plant was weird" stories, glossary of terms (such as references that may generally be less obscure if you were in the '60s, e.g.), suggested further reading....haven't read it top to bottom but i think it's fantastic, link to the pdf as post source