#Tork letters

[thislovintime]

(Some) photos by Bob Campbell, Henry Diltz, Michael Putland.

Q: “What got you interested in playing the banjo?” Peter Tork: “My folks had Weavers records in the house. Weavers was the group that Pete Seeger belonged to. They were the nation’s top vocal group in, I think, 19- oh God, I don’t know what, ‘49 or something like that. They had a record out [...] which was essentially an anglicized version of the song they later did in Hebrew, a Hebrew dance tune, it was a lot of fire and fun, they did it with an orchestra then, it was very commercial. Pete Seeger, Ronnie Gilbert, Lee Hayes, Fred Hellerman were The Weavers and they were basically a commercial pop group based on kind of a folk music kind of an operation. And they went along pretty strongly until the McCarthy hearings and then they were pretty much shoved underground for a long time until their reunion in, what, about, oh, I don’t know, ‘57 or ‘-8 or ‘59 or something like that, and from then on it was about I guess it would be ‘56, because I’d be 14 and they... and, yeah, I got my banjo about then. And I asked for a banjo, and they went out, my folks went out and bought me a little tiny, dinky five-string banjo. And Pete Seeger’s book, How To Play the Five-String Banjo, I think I bought that myself, and learned how to play from that. Nobody said, ‘Here, take a banjo,’ or, ‘Gee, you’d be good at it,’ or anything like that. I just wanted to play it.” - Headquarters radio, 1989

Dear Mr. Tork, I am so glad you are willing to talk to your fans like this, what a great idea! You've always seemed to be a beautiful person in so many ways. I wish you had put out an album of your banjo songs. Having said that, I am 31 years old, and I listen to your music in all its incarnations a lot, so much so that I fell in love with the banjo because of it. My best friend of over 20 years bought me a banjo for my birthday. So, I would like to know if a banjo is difficult to learn for someone with no musical ability or experience (the 4th grade clarinet lessons don't count). Or is there another instrument I should try to learn first like piano or guitar? Do you have any tips for someone starting out on an instrument or the banjo in particular? Thank you, Peace and love to you and yours, Eve P.S. I love your middle name.

Dear Eve, As far as I’m concerned, no instrument is harder than any other, overall. If you want to play the banjo, play the banjo. I recommend most particularly Pete Seeger’s book, How to Play the 5-String Banjo. It was hugely valuable to my learning. The thing about the banjo, at least the way I play it, is that there is a kind of hump that’s a bit high getting over right at the start. Once that’s behind you (and it’ll take a month or six weeks depending on how hard you work at it), the rest of it’s a piece of cake. Incidentally, I reject the notion that anyone doesn’t have musical ability. It’s true that some learn faster than others, but that’s true of everything, and why people should discourage themselves in the musical realm is pretty much beyond me. True musical inability is about as common as congenital blindness. Everyone else can improve with effort. Remember, the surest predictor of success in any endeavor is not talent but work. Thanks for asking. Peter Halsten [2008]

“[M]y goal was always to wend my way merrily through life, playing my little banjo and my little guitar and singing my songs.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

[vintagetvstars]

as a former preteen Peter Tork fangirl this is my moment. look at him face :)

Thanks for the propaganda! reblogged!

- mod vintage

[ninetimesbluedemo]

@jathis My thoughts upon the subject….

Peter would still have given the boat money to crosby…. And croz still wouldn’t have repaid him.

Mike would have gotten on better with steve than with peter. Mike would have had respect for stephen as a musician but would not have had the resentment that he did for peter (because stephen was more repressed than peter). They’d have probably had a fun time smoking grass together, maybe even continued to make music together post-monkees.

Ah yes, the Monkees. Mike, Micky, Davy, and Steve.

[darthvashtique93]

Aftermath

After the Chaos Lords' attack, cleanup became a monumental chore. While alien lizards had wreaked havoc in Gotham, other monsters spewing green vomit terrorized California. Dragons manifested in space, and other creatures—snakes, demons, possessed unicorns, murderous water beings, and etc.—popped out of portals across the globe. Heroes and villains alike fought side by side, but once the chaos subsided, the villains left the cleanup to the heroes, slipping back into their villainous routines.

Midway through the cleanup, Superman and other heroes finally returned from space, providing much-needed help that greatly sped up the process. Heroes with powers to swiftly repair buildings and bridges were dispatched, working round the clock. It took a little less than two weeks to restore order worldwide. Fortunately, the Chaos Lords had only visited Earth and no other nearby worlds.

Things had returned to a semblance of normalcy. Garfield had somehow received personal phone number of the Princess of Vlatava, who was a devoted fan of Tork and a powerful advocate for meta-humans. It definitely didn't hurt that, at one point, Garfield had leaped in front of her to block a blow that never came. Bart joked the princess would soon get over her infatuation with him as soon as her head trauma healed. Raven wasn't so sure. Garfield had eagerly showed her his texts with the queen-to-be. It seemed serious. At t the end of the day, Raven felt relieved that he was slowly moving on from his crush on her.

Presently… Raven drummed her fingers on the table in the school library. In their last therapy session, Dinah had alluded to college—a topic they had breached months earlier. She had, without Dinah's knowledge, submitted applications to Ivy League schools: Metropolis University, Ivy Town University, Empire State University, and Harvard. Sure, her grades were decent, but they weren't Ivy League material.

So why am I looking at a late acceptance email from Hudson University? My grades aren't that good, and Constantine wrote my letter of recommendation. What on Earth could he have written?

After school, Raven instantly teleported into Constantine's mansion. "Raven," Black Orchid greeted her.

"Hello," Raven replied, scanning the room. "Is Constantine here?"

"I believe Ms. Zatanna Zatara has recruited him to help with her magic school. May I be of assistance?"

Raven hesitated. "Well… six months ago, I asked Constantine to write a letter of recommendation for my college applications. I hoped he would screw it up. But I just received a late acceptance email from Hudson University. My grades couldn't have gotten me into any Ivy League college, so I want to see the letter he wrote—see if he added anything magical to it."

"Ah," Black Orchid said, a knowing look crossing her face. "I remember this day well. He had just exorcised a level 5 demon from a little girl, reminding him of one he couldn't save. He wrote it while he was deep in his whiskey. Allow me to locate it." The house shuddered, and a laptop appeared above Orchid's hand. "Allow me," she said, placing her hand on the closed PC. Seconds later, the laptop vanished, replaced by a piece of white paper in her hand. "Here," Black Orchid said, handing the letter to Raven. "Techno-magic," she added.

"Thank you," Raven said, taking the document.

"I watched as Constantine typed in his alcohol-induced state," Orchid continued. "He drunkenly telephoned someone named Tim Drake using techno-magic."

"What?!" Raven exclaimed, her surprise evident.

"Yes, it's a magic that allows technology—"

"I know what techno-magic is," Raven interrupted, staring at the essay in her hand. "I mean—he called Tim?" She read a few sentences, her disbelief deepening. No way he wrote this himself. "Trigondammit," she swore in her native tongue. "Why—I—thank you, Black Orchid," she said gratefully. "I have to go."

"I sense anger and embarrassment. Are you going to kill Constantine?"

"I may have to."

Raven had teleported to the mountain in a huff. She had set her things on her bed and prepared to teleport to Tim's apartment when a sensation hit her. She knew, she just knew, he was in the mountain—specifically, in their gym. So, not in complete control of her emotion, Raven marched through the surprisingly empty mountain. Sensing he was alone in the weight-room, she paused in front of the door and centered herself.

Once she felt her emotions settle, she entered the gym. Honestly, I should have known better, Raven thought in annoyance. She wasn't annoyed that Tim was hanging from a pull-up bar doing inverted sit-ups while holding a crossword puzzle in front of his face. It wasn't even the fact that he was shirtless. No, what annoyed her was that she should have known he was shirtless and mentally prepared herself accordingly. "Trigondamn," she muttered.

"Hey, Raven," Tim greeted without looking at her and without pause. "Our bond must still be in place because I felt you walking down the hall. I can also feel your displeasure at something." He paused and lowered, or lifted, his crossword book from his face. Raven looked away with a flush when he stared at her with his electric blue eyes. Honestly, was it a rule that you had to be considered good-looking for Bruce Wayne to adopt you? The Richard in this universe was still young, but Raven knew what he would look like when he turned 18. Even Jason Todd was shockingly gorgeous, if not obnoxious with an anger problem. Anyway, Raven returned to the present and said, "I received an acceptance email from Hudson University."

"That's amazing," Tim said, still hanging upside down…shirtless…glistening with sweat.

A small part of her wanted to purr at the sight. She swallowed thickly instead. "No," Raven shifted on her feet, "it's not." Tim gave her a curious look. "My grades aren't good enough for an Ivy League university. So, I figured Constantine—who wrote my acceptance letter—must have cast a spell or something." Raven watched as Tim's eyes widened with understanding. "Turns out, you wrote most of it."

"Yeah, he called me," Tim replied. "I don't know how he got my personal number."

"Techno-magic," Raven said.

Tim gave her another questioning look. "Techno-magic? The ability to talk to technology?"

"Something like that," Raven said. That was the one genre of magic she was unsure of.

"That's too simple. Is it technology that runs on magic?"

"Yeah…I guess."

"That is extraordinary. So, Constantine has—"

"No," Raven interrupted him, holding up a finger. "No, you will not go on a tangent or rant until after we have this conversation."

"I'm sorry," Tim apologized, blushing. "Yes, to answer your question. Constantine called me and asked to write your letter of recommendation, but I doubt that's why you got accepted."

"Well, it wasn't my grades."

"I think it was the other letter of recommendation I wrote and handed to the dean at a charity event," Tim admitted nonchalantly, resuming his sit-ups.

Raven's whole body shook with multiple emotions. "Why would you do that?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Why would you apply to multiple Ivy Leagues and then ask Constantine to write you a letter of recommendation knowing there's an 18.7% chance he'd be blackout drunk while doing so?" Tim paused midway, turned his torso, and looked Raven directly in the eye with a smirk. "It's almost like you were purposefully trying to sabotage your chances of getting into college." Raven opened her mouth to respond to the accusation, but no words came out. "That's what I thought," Tim said, resuming his sit-up.

"Why does it matter to you?" Raven asked. "And can we please talk face-to-face, right side up?" Raven was having a hard time concentrating on their conversation.

"You don't enjoy watching me move?" Tim asked in a manner that could only be described as flirtatious. Raven gave him her best blank stare. "Give me a second," he smiled. Lifting his torso, he held onto the pull-up bar with one hand and undid the straps on his ankles with the other.

Placing his bare feet on the mat, he grabbed his water bottle that was nearby, and Raven looked away as he gulped down mouthfuls of water. "So…why are you upset with me he asked when he was finished drinking.

"I'm not upset with you," Raven turned to him. Now, he was standing in front of her, sweaty, blue eyes looking at her through damp bangs. This is way worse, Raven thought as she struggled to keep her eyes on his. I should have waited until he was done working out to have this conversation. "I'm not upset with you," Raven repeated. "I'm just wondering why?"

"Why were you trying to sabotage your chance at receiving a higher education?"

"Tim," Raven gasped as he took a step closer to her. Suddenly, she didn't know what to do with her hands. She couldn't pull her hood over her head, she was still wearing her school uniform. "I'm interrupting your workout," she muttered. Is my voice shaking? "I-I-I should go," Raven said, taking a small step back.

"Raven," Tim caught her soft hand in his rough one. Raven looked at their joined hands. "You're shaking," Tim said, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Raven's breath caught in her throat as her heart raced and heat coiled low in her belly. She was weakening under the intensity of his gaze, and her mouth was suddenly dry. "Yeah…it's cold in here," she said, suddenly dizzy. "I should go get a sweatshirt."

"I don't think so," Tim said breathlessly, before pulling her into his body. His free hand went to the back of her neck as he pulled her into a kiss. Instead of freezing like she had the first time, Raven responded instantly. Tim's mouth was hot and insistent against hers, though his lips remained soft. The world around her dissolved as she opened herself up to him. The warmth in her stomach exploded and Raven became hot all over when he yanked the ponytail holder from her hair, tossing it somewhere. T

he kiss deepened, growing more fervent as Tim tilted his head, tangling his tongue with hers. Raven wasn't sure which one of them moaned, but the vibration against her mouth sent shivers down her spine. Tim released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, crushing her to him, and Raven could feel his heart racing in his chest. His hand then inched up her spine, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Raven wanted to get even closer to him as this unfamiliar need arose in her. Sucking on his lower lip, Raven could taste the salt of his sweat.

Barely pulling away, Tim, their lips still tenderly brushing each other, Tim maneuvered them over to one bench in the gymnasium. Sitting down, Tim tenderly pulled Raven onto his lap so she was straddling him. Settling onto his lap, Raven gasped, and before she could register what she was feeling, Tim pulled her into a deeper kiss. While his fingers carded through her hair, his other hand worked its way beneath her sweater, still on her shirt. Raven could sense his desire to go further, as well as his hesitation to go too far. He was so sweet, but even half-demons like her needed air. Raven eased the intensity of her kisses, and Tim followed her lead. Eventually, they were both resting their foreheads against each other, panting. What did I just do? Raven pulled away to look into his eyes, but something happened. She was no longer looking into intense blue eyes; she was staring into angry green ones. "How could you do that to me? I trusted you!" Wally screamed.

"Wally," Richard said warningly, placing himself protectively in front of Raven. "Wally, let her explain."

"Was any of it real?" Wally cried, ignoring his best friend. "Any of it?" Raven sucked in a breath as her tears continued to fall. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you even love me?"

"Yes," Raven looked at him desperately, "I do. That's why I told you the truth."

"And how am I supposed to trust anything you say?"

"I'm sorry," Raven apologized. "I was desperate. The Justice League had just sent me away. I didn't know anyone else. I knew I wouldn't be able to get to Richard."

"So, you manipulated my emotions?"

"I was afraid you'd turn me away, too."

"I wouldn't have."

"Really? Can you honestly say if I came begging for help–if I came to you saying an interdimensional demon war lord was on his way here, and I was his daughter–you would have dropped everything and helped me?"

"Well, I guess we'll never know. You took away any choice I had in the matter."

"Raven?"

Raven blinked once.

"I think…you're not used to having full control of your emotions," Nightwing said to her. "I think you've been manipulating mine." Raven stiffened. "Not on purpose," Nightwing quickly added. "Not on purpose, but I think the feelings you're feeling…the feelings I'm feeling…are somehow coming from you. Think about it."

Raven frowned and thought. Is this what Kori was trying to tell her? Nightwing was right. Was that all this was? An overzealous crush holding so much emotion it spilled over and was affecting Nightwing negatively? Her frown deepened the longer she thought about it. It did and didn't make sense to her. Turning to Nightwing, she prepared a question but paused. She was 21, but likely had the emotional maturity of a 4-year-old being that a couple of months ago she wasn't able to fully embrace emotion without Trigon taking over. And…what she did to Wally years before was always present in her mind. Biting her lip, she realized Nightwing was right. It was just a crush with overflowing emotion affecting those around him. And it was only affecting Nightwing because they'd been hanging out nearly every day. He was right. This isn't love.

Raven blinked again. "Raven?" Tim called her name, this time placing a hand on her face. "I'm right here, Raven." Raven blinked, her body and mind returning to the present. She was staring at a very confused Tim…sitting on his lap. Oh my gosh, I'm on his lap, her body tensed as she began to panic.

"Raven?" he said her name again. Raven blinked as her body and mind fully returned to the present. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuine worry on his face.

"Omigosh," she gasped before quickly scrambling off his lap. "It's happening again."

"What's happening again?" Tim asked, remaining seated.

"I think I may be influencing you by accident."

Tim furrowed his brow as he stared at her inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"I think…I wanted you to kiss me so bad that…I accidentally affected your emotions."

"Excuse me?" he asked with a cocked brow.

"I may have accidentally manipulated you into kissing me."

"Wait," Tim's face remained serious, but Raven could sense the amusement radiating from him, "you're saying I wanted to kiss you because you wanted me to kiss you? That you accidentally forced me to kiss you?"

"Yes," Raven sighed.

"You're serious?"

Raven nodded. She then watched as Tim tried and failed to hold back a laugh. Now I'm confused. Tim laughed like Raven had just cracked a joke. And the sound did something to Raven's stomach. I love his laugh. Crap. Raven blinked and frowned at Tim. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Tim gasped between laughs. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at…Raven, no one forced me to kiss you. I kissed you because I wanted to."

"Tim…"

"No," he smiled as he stood to his feet, "I know my mind. Trust me, I know what it feels like to be manipulated. You did not manipulate me."

"But you kissed me," Raven stressed.

"Yeah," Tim said, humor dancing in his eyes. "Because I wanted to." He held her gaze, watching as confusion crossed her face and she took a small step back. It was almost like—his eyes widened. "Raven…did something or someone…?" Tim paused. He didn't know how to word the question. "Raven," he said, reaching for her hands, linking their fingers. "I like you. And it's not because of your powers." He saw disbelief and confusion cross her face. "I've felt your touch in my head," he continued softly, "I'd recognize if you were doing something in there. Raven…?" Tim was trying to make sense of what Raven just said. "Did something like that happen to you?" Tim knew he hit the nail on the head when Raven's face tightened. She looked down and away, and her arms wrapped around her torso in a show of vulnerability. His heart cracked. "Raven, is it so hard—what happened?"

"Nothing," Raven closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Nothing. It was a mistake…I was mistaken. I'm sorry," Raven tried to brush past him, but Tim's hand shot out. He wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Wait," he said softly. "Raven, is it so hard to believe that someone may like you…for you?"

Raven gradually turned her head to look at him. Her heart raced in her chest as she stood captivated by Tim's beautiful eyes. "Raven," Tim closed the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes and asked her pointblank. "Raven, are you using your powers to manipulate me in any way, shape, or form?"

Tim's face became blurry as tears formed in Raven's eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Why am I crying? She felt Tim's thumbs move as he wiped the tears away. "I…" Raven began in a broken voice. Her shoulders slumped. Admitting this would only bring back painful memories. But, she could sense Tim's emotions—his sincerity, his kindness, his lo—I can't lie to him. "No," she whispered, "I'm not using my powers on you."

"Were you using them on me that night I kissed you?" he asked kindly.

"No," Raven admitted tearfully.

"And were you using them on me just now?" he asked softly.

"No," Raven said.

"Well, if you weren't using your powers on me, that means my feelings for you are genuine. That means, that night, I wanted to kiss you. And, if the TV hadn't broken," he chuckled, "I would have kissed you longer, harder, and deeper…the way I just kissed you now."

"Tim," Raven gasped.

"I don't know what happened on your world all those years ago…but, Raven, my feelings for you are genuine. They're mine. No one is manipulating me, least of all you." He looked at Raven with a gentle gaze. Raven's heart raced. She didn't know what to say about that. Because if Tim liked her just for her, that would be mean…that would mean…Raven looked up at Tim with wonder. He likes me! "I…" she backed away. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I have to check…something," she said.

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, instantly worried.

"I'm fine…or…um…I will be. I just…I don't know what I'm feeling. I…need to go…."

"It's okay, I get it," Tim nodded. "I understand. I'll see you later…okay?"

"Okay."

Raven marched into the House of Mystery and Black Orchid greeted her. "Hello again, Raven," she greeted. "Something is wrong. You are…frazzled."

"I am, but…I need to see an old friend, and I'm not sure how long it will take. Can you let John know? I will have my communicator on me if there's an emergency. I just need…" tears gathered in her eyes again. I'm falling apart.

Black Orchid placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It is okay, Raven," she smiled comfortingly. "Do what you need to do."

Dick smiled at his phone, cooing at the screen as he listened to his wife. "And remember…formula. The blue canister with the bunny on it, not the red one." He curved his lips into a grin, but the moment was interrupted as he sensed something off—he was being followed. "What's wrong?"

"I am being followed."

"Old habits die hard," his wife replied, her voice light with humor.

"Apparently," he chuckled. "Alright. I'm gonna go have a chat with my stalker."

"Be careful, Dick."

"I will, Babs. I'll see you in a bit. Bye, John," he cooed at the baby before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, he approached the alley, feeling a mix of dread and determination. "Bad idea, Dick, bad idea. You promised you would stop. You're a family man now."

"Talking to yourself? That's a nasty habit," a voice emerged from the darkness. "Stupidly entering a dark alley alone? Tsk. Tsk."

The familiarity of the voice made Dick freeze. No way, he thought. As a figure stepped out of the shadows, his heart raced. She looked different—her face youthful yet hauntingly familiar. There was no doubt in Dick's mind; it was Raven—the teammate he had sort of buried ten years ago. "What would Batman think?" she smiled, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Raven?" He breathed her name in disbelief, emotions welling in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Hello, Richard," she replied with a small, almost nervous, smile. "It's been a while. Have you missed me?"

[whoredmode]

Okay, now for all my AtoA questions:

1.) Is Jane Valderama still reporting on all the craziness?

2.) Does Prof. Genki's S.E.R.C. exist in your rewrite and has it expanded to stilwater?

3.) I love the concept for the new main antagonists!! Being behind forgive and forget is such a cool backstory and makes so much sense. How do you pronounce their name though lmao?

4.) I would also love to know more about Ranja. How big of a role do they play in AtoA?

5.) Your version of Troy seems way more fleshed out and more true to his SR version. How does he differ from the bald police chief version in SR2? Like does he still do all that?

6.) When Killbane returned to the states in his tag team with Angel, did Angel know Killbane was using?

7.) Speaking of the wrestling in SR, is it similar to how wrestling works in real life do you think? Like in real life, the match results are predetermined and it's just 2 athletes putting on a fight meant to tell a story and entertain with real life feuds bleeding in occasionally. Do you think it functions like that in SR or do you think it's more of a fight between two warriors and the better fighter wins. Kinda closer to MMA but with the showiness of wrestling and lucha libre.

8.) I saved the best (Dex) question for last! When Dex was with the syndicate and feeling like he'd never get out (especially after Loren dies), do you think some part of him felt like he deserved it. Almost like his own personal purgatory as a result of the choices he made

I hope this isn't too many questions 😅😅. I can't wait to hear your thoughts!!

omg some excellent questions. gonna have to answer them under a readmore because this is gonna be looooong but i’m sure you understand that haha

yes of course! jane never stops. especially with some juicy stories that have been developing for literal years i mean come on

2. so Yes it still exists. it’s just a game show and doesn’t play a huge role in anything. it hasn’t expanded to stilwater and remains in steelport. genki is just the mascot character, but i like to think there’s some expansion on the show's brand itself; there’s actually an in-game ad in srtt that implies the existence of a genki amusement park, so i like to think that exists somewhere within steelport. always pictured an indoor amusement park, just because the game show is so enclosed. 

3. i’m not sure which names/words in particular you want a pronunciation of, so i’ll do a few:

Z: it’s just the letter Z

Philosotology/Philosotologists: Fih-loss-oh-tahl-low-jee/Fih-loss-oh-tahl-low-jist (you can find NPC dialogue in the first two games of this being pronounced btw)

Ranja: she responds to either “Rahn-ha” or “Rahn-jah”

Torque: like the word “torque,” pronounced “Tork”

if there’s any i’m missing feel free to lemme know

4. OKAY SO. i’m gonna start with backstory stuff bc it appears in the rewrite through flashbacks (flashbacks are a major part of the storytelling in AtoA). ranja was part of the vice kings back in the 1970s. she was a major figure during that fight throughout the 70s, right alongside ben and julius, though as time moved on and after everything that happened, they often write her out of it on purpose. but she was particularly adept at gathering intel and spying. she grows frustrated with the VK, feeling stifled by the way ben and jules run things, and their refusal to allow angela, ben’s sister, to play a larger role despite her skills. ranja, who had feelings for angela, had tried forever to get her to leave stilwater, but angela declined each time. eventually ranja gets the idea to  start running her own operations, eventually getting in contact with the samedi. she starts doing work for them—scoping areas outside stilwater (and some within), running some drugs, brokering deals with the help of the VK’s lawyer, harlan delmonaco (one of my non-boss OCs). with a bunch of new money, she asks angela a final time if she’ll leave stilwater with her, revealing what she’d been doing. angela is heartbroken that ranja would lie to her and the VK; this later culminates in an argument between ranja, angela, ben and jules, which ends with angela’s death at the hands of the carnales. ranja leaves stilwater after this, leaving to work with the samedi full-time. ben and jules blame ranja for angela’s death, while ranja blames them (but lbr, they really blame themselves). fast forward to sr2. with the hole left by the saints dissolution, ranja—now doing her own thing but still highly respected within the samedi—is able to get them a strong foothold within the city. fast forward now to AtoA, she’s coming in to take stilwater herself, since clearly no one else can be trusted with the city angela loved so dearly. she runs her own gang, the emperors (because kings only rule a kingdom; she rules an empire). 

5. oh my god troy. my beloved. he does…..a lot of shit. such a major player in my canon. i'm gonna link my timeline for the five years between the first two games here bc it's semi-related enough to this question. so he was still the police chief throughout sr2, but he’s on the side of the saints. he goes out with anteros in disguise whenever he calls. they take out operations and strongholds together. troy acts as a trainer for anteros during this time as well, because anteros is still working on getting his strength back post-coma. by the time srtt happens, though, he quits as the chief of police and instead becomes a private investigator. this 1) gives him freedom to do what he wants and allows him more mobility to help the saints when needed and 2) still gives him credibility. so he helps them directly all through srtt, “rejoining” them. he’s still there in AtoA, but by the end of that he leaves to focus on the private eye thing. he’s still in constant contact with the saints and helps whenever they call. also because i don’t think anteros can go a day without talking to troy. my characterization of him is worth its own several posts tbh (actually, i have some already)

6. i don’t think angel initially realized it, but as their fame grew it became pretty apparent. i actually think when angel confronted him about it, it made killbane so paranoid and nervous that it’s what made him demand a fight against angel. he’d convinced himself that angel asking him if he was on steroids meant that angel was coming for his glory, so he took it as his chance to humiliate him and get him out of his life. angel was just genuinely concerned for him though. 

7. so this is really interesting because in my canon, there’s two murderbrawls. the first one is the public one, which is like your typical theatrical wrestling and lucha libre. but the other murderbrawl is an actual death match. real fighting, real death, no rules, weapons allowed. completely underground. 

8. well…sorta kinda. i think if there’s any character i’d describe in my canon as driven by guilt/feeling like he deserves punishment or purgatory, it’s troy. that said, i do think dex feels that way in that situation to an extent. he feels like it’s partially his fault because he chose to side with the syndicate, not because he didn’t go back to the saints. this leads into his confrontation with anteros at the end of the srtt rewrite, with them meeting one-on-one and dex telling himself he was gonna end this (even though things end much differently). dex did not want to be a gangster. he did what he had to do back then, but he never saw the saints as a permanent place for himself. for one, he wasn’t treated very well as a lieutenant in the first place, but then all the lies come out about troy and julius, johnny’s imprisoned, and worst of all….anteros died. it’s not the ending he wanted, but it’s what he got and he just had to move forward regardless. i think dex got his degree in city planning, and that’s what he always wanted to do. he wanted to help develop stilwater into something beautiful. all he’s ever wanted, from the very beginning, was to protect his home. things just kept escalating out of his control. i wouldn’t describe his guilt during srtt on something as grand a scale as purgatory, but he feels angry at himself for letting it get this far. for not planning better. admittedly by this point he’s much more paranoid than he’s ever been, so at times his planning can be a bit…scattered, but he’s still good about ultimately keeping a level head. by the time AtoA is going on and he's "rejoined" them, i think any guilt he feels is less focused on the saints as a whole and more focused on anteros himself. it's hard being someone who tries to account for every possibility; how was he supposed to plan for a dead man coming back?

OKAY i think that's everything. a linked a million things here because i love to cite myself and i've just. written a lot. thank you so much for these this was so fun to answer!

[nightmarist]

Alright finally writing our previous DnD session !

All previous parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Yilcer | Part 5 |

The party has been shopping around, budgeting their treasures. They also came to an argument with Yilcer about whether her Archdruid Helvega is the same as the Sigurd Helvega they faced ages ago.

This particular session was very lore-heavy. I was worried they'd get bored, but pleasantly surprised by how immersed they were and how much they enjoyed piecing together bits of lore they each had, so I hope I can translate that well enough to text here.

Yilcer refuses to believe her Archdruid is the same Helvega as the necromancer they met, but it's mostly due to Ivan's petty one-sided feud with him: Ivan insists he's a bad guy because Sigurd let him drink his blood knowing it was tainted because he's "always wondered what would happen."

Tork had to mediate between them.

In the mean time, Xehara went back to one of the shop keeps, Zephyn, a Tiefling who has half his face seared to the bone, a seasoned adventurer who has definitely seen a lot. He asks Zephyn about his necklace, since Zephyn's wares are mostly jewelries. Zephyn personally isn't sure but suggests if it's magic and can't be taken off, he should ask a wizard or sorcerer.

The group gets back together and goes to Glamours and Gores, a magic and magic items shop run by a half-elf wizard named Dravor, dressed in midnight-black robes with subtle hints of gold threads, wearing gold pauldrons and chains.

Dravor sells them a few items, including some scrolls (Fireball, Speak With Dead, Grease, Disguise Self).

Dravor looks through a few of his tomes and tells Zehara the necklace is certainly of Ancient time, but can tell little beyond that. There is an enchantment attached to it, but he wouldn't necessarily call it a curse as much as he would call it soulbound. He did not detect any outright cursed or dark magic on the necklace, but it seems that its refusal to be removed is part of its duty, and that Xehara would have to be the one to find out what that is.

Yilcer wanted to open up a bank account since the ancient coins they have cost a fuckton of gold for just one. The Three Lizard Bank recognized her surname, Helvega, and asked if she was related. She at first didn't want to say, but passed a persuasion check after backtracking. They gave her a vault key to a Helvega vault. She at first refused to let anyone else go with her, wanting to discover the secrets of her Archdruid herself.

The vault was massive, but had very little actually inside.

Five portraits were stacked against the wall. She didn't recognize any except one: her Archdruid wearing a teal, armored robe holding a book, a quill, wearing a silver ring with a purple stone. But, what was unusual, is that his eyes were normal. White sclera, dark black irises.

There were stacks and stacks of letters neatly arranged, and several books. They were all in a language she didn't know, however, ad she cursed at herself, realizing the others were studying this language. She found a safety deposit box and opened it. Inside were:

A broken pearl necklace, a large amethyst flower, a large peridot flower, an opened letter with the wax seal preserved of an axe and a lavender stalk crossing but in a language she didn't know, two silver rings with an amethyst and a peridot respectively (that she recognized one as in the portrait) with engraved phrases in another language, four small black obelisks, and a pitch black dagger coated in rust or old blood.

She went back and very frustratedly demanded the others go with her.

They had ONE scroll of Comprehend Languages and had to choose which of the items they were going to read. I gave them the choice of:

A stack of old letters. A stack of new letters. A stack of ancient books.

Either way I was going to give them the safety deposit box letter and rings for free since they're quick reads.

Everyone examined all the items in the room.

The group recognized the portraits as the indiiduals from the Godkiller temple as well as portraits hanging in Sigurd's office at the Elk God's temple: Eloise Starguard, Asa Heilung, Razvra Zhiat, and finally a portrait of Sigurd himself. However, the fifth was recognized but unexpected: A heroic portrait of a middle-aged man with chopped brown hair and scruffy beard. He is Xehara's target.

Everyone mulled over these portraits.

Xehara and Tork looked at the two stacks of books. One of them was a stack of language books in many languages. They recognized Sigurd's handwriting in various notes, as it seemed he was learning all these languages himself. The second stack of books were neat and they passed a check to determined they were preserved by the same magic that had been preserving Razvra's body (and now-decapitated head....)

Tork and Xehara passed a Wisdom check so I allowed them to understand the subject of the books but not fully translate them. They were five books about the Usherian Pantheon, seemingly each about a god, but couldn't decipher what the fifth book as about.

Yilcer is the one who used the Comprehend Language scroll and chose to translate the older stack of letters.

Here's a copy paste of my notes:

Sigurd details that there is a sickness disturbing the local flora and fauna in a way that seems unnatural or supernatural. He asks permissions to travel to the temples, as the Divination Chambers seem to be having difficulties connecting to the gods. It’s a strange, otherworldly thing he’s never seen before. But, like any illness, Sigurd insists he can take it.

Asa seems to be the first of his companions, as he sends a letter to the central Ushurian temple, the Temple of the Quartet, detailing her aid in soothing frenzied creatures that have come to illness. The Temple of the Quartet seems to be located near Fjorsom and Brislat. Asa is apparently a warrior nun dedicated in Ranger arts. She and Sigurd travel to Draghule together and find the dragon god suffers the illness. He details the symptoms:

It is of ragged breath, drooling from its mouth with a wretched stench of death. It is rather unable to move and appears to have a bloat. He and Asa, as skilled healers each and Asa of great animal-clinictic study do what they can to aid the Great Dragon, but little seems to help it. Sigurd informs the Temple of the Quartet he will attempt his Final Measure, and perhaps self-study its signs and symptoms. They reply to him with prayers for his own health, and thank him for his sacrifice.

He details that after curing the illness, he and Asa were blessed by the visage of Galdramadur Himself, in draco-humanoid glory, thanking him for his service and sacrifice. The god seems to be doing much better, and even said that the mortal coils of the great beast God-Avatars can occasionally suffer mortal-inflictions. Sigurd, however, tells the Temple he does not find this illness to be very…. Mortal.

Sigurd has hired a band of mercenaries to travel with him and fellow priests, to protect them from the troubles that would meet them traveling from Osanisk to the southeastern shores to travel to Aeonaclys.

Letters are addressed to his mother. He has a few letters from his mother praying for his safety. A few of the letters describe the band of mercenaries, a barbarian, a fighter, a pair of wizards, two paladins briefly, small things about their origins and personalities. A few funny things, such as Asa scolding them for brutishness towards animals and plants. He details one particular paladin longer than the others – the description is certainly Razvra.

He keeps in touch with his mother. His mother calls him Siggy.

In Aeonaclys, he mentions to a nun that an Angel barred them from entering Morthana’s temple at first. He reveals it was because Morthana’s avatar had been sick, as well, but eventually allowed him upon realizing he healed both Galdramadur, Desmaduke, and Ranmaya. Morthana herself soothed him a most dreadful tale. He does not write this tale, only insists that when he returns, it would cause a dire stir amongst the worshipers and can only be told in person.

Aloise, an Angel, joins him as she feels it is her duty to do so.

He tells his mother about small things. He tells her he thinks Razvra would enjoy their farm because he enjoys gardening, and hopes to show him someday. He said Razvra also likes horses, and tells her they should get one or two. Razvra’s horse is named Tabernackle. He includes a drawing of Razvra combing its hair.

He finished cleansing each God-Avatar. 

He is asked a few times by clinicians and worshipers about his health. He insists it’s simply taking time for his own body to heal such an alien illness. He assures them he will be fine. It’s no different from healing a flue or a leper.

Most of the letters thereafter are between Sigurd and The Three (Razvra, Eloise, Asa), detailing small everyday things of their lives, keeping in touch for years. There seems to be a lot of peace now. Razvra and he live in a place called Alma, on their own farm. Sigurd’s mother had passed and he was given well-wishes – there are flowers pressed between these letters.

Asa has children in the Brislat grove. Eloise jokingly complains of the never-ending petty mortal sufferings she hears as a Guardian in Aeonaclys. Eloise and Asa both ask him about his health. He says it’s hard to keep it contained, but his body can manage it. It’s the least he can do for faith.  

More time passes but new letters to them state Razvra is going with him “like old times” to visit the temples and god-avatars to cleanse the Godsickness again. Eloise and Asa both tell him to be careful, reminding him that his body is still recovering from last time. He cleanses them all again. Years pass.

New letters state his worry that the sickness is returning at exponential rate. He cleanses the gods, but they only get sick again. Eloise and Asa offer to help him, they’re own clerical abilities they believe could combine with his. He refuses, saying he doesn’t want to put his beloved companions in any danger.

Months pass.

He writes to them he fears the god-avatars are beyond saving, or will be soon, but the priests refuse to believe him.

Asa and Eloise insist he must make them see truth, that the avatars are still bound to mortal coil.

Sigurd tells them the priests are afraid the gods would cease if their avatars cease. Sigurd insists that the gods use the avatars to deal with mortal complications but otherwise would be powerful enough to resume new coils. They are GODS. The primordial essence of all life. They would not “cease”

They each agree to search for new Great Beasts that can withstand the power of the gods.

Months go by between letters, some are from Sigurd to priests, priests being upset with his line of thinking, finding him blasphemous to think anything could contain the Godsouls. Sigurd insists that avatars need not necessarily be Beasts, but any powerful being willing and capable of becoming the mouthpiece for a god would do.

Many letters are collected, addressed to Sigurd, from many priests, priestesses, nuns, monks, nobility, commoner, renouncing him as a Blasphemer. He has been stripped of his title as Ascendant Priest.

Sigurd vaguely mourns in a letter he has blood of his brothers on his hands for the foolishness of blindness. And soon, the blood of his greatest devotion will be on his hands, too.

The rest of the letters are only from Asa and Eloise, frequently writing to him, asking for his reply, asking for Razvra’s reply, asking Razvra to keep Sigurd safe. They resort to begging for an answer before the letters stop. Sigurd had one, seemingly unsent reply: I can fix it.

In between the letters are various illustrations (that I did not draw lol)

Some drawings of Razvra, Asa, and Eloise, mostly doing mundane things: Razvra brushing his horse's hair, Asa gholding her hand out to a small animal, Eloise hanging laundry on makeshift posts, some various figure drawings of various monks, nuns, priests, and priestesses, a few drawings of buildings, a few of the interior of the Forge Temple but with people, a few of the Elk temple but with people, a few of an oceanic temple, a few of a stone temple, a blood stained drawing of the goblet.

Ivan stealthed and took the drawing of the goblet (as a reminder, his people were said to be created by the magic of a goblet, and some time go he found and took the very goblet out of the Godkiller temple, but has very little knowledge of its true purpose otherwise)

The group told Yilcer they've been to two of the sketched temples and described vaguely what the found there, but told her little else.

I also let them read the rings and deposit letter.

The letter read:

Happiness, many believe, is the enchanted palaces we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of all shapes and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours. But I know this work, and I know this life. I know the fear that punctuates the depths of the gut, the heartbeat of finality when you believe you are on death’s final knell. But I too know happiness. The mending of the soul that comes after gore, the soothing of gash wounds by the palest, most charming light, the tenderness of a kiss to the smallest scrape. I will always the sword-arm to he who is forever my healer, the mend of my heart – Sigard Vega

Ring with a dark purple stone says: Until Nothing Remains

Ring with a dark green stone says: Except for Our Regrets

Knowing Razvra and Sigurd had been married, they determined these were their wedding rings, vows, and gifts. They asked to see my illustrations again and everyone said how sad it was realizing the rings and flowers were in their respective color palettes:

They determined everything in the deposit box was particularly special, and almost ritualistic. They determined (without my confirmation but they are correct) that the four obelisks were likely tied to the fact there were originally Four Champions (Sigurd, Razvra, Asa, Eloise). The dagger, they determined, was likely what Sigurd used to kill Razvra, a very stark contrast to the beauty of most everything else in the box, and an almost sickly keepsake to remind him of what he had done.

I also gave Yilcer a particular piece of information that she shared with the group:

All names come from languages, and while she can read that Sigard Vega is a name, she can, at this moment, understand its translation and roots. Sigard means "Victorious Guardian" and "Vega" means way. I also told her, you realize that the name Helvega means "The Way to Hell"

Ivan speculated very correctly that the reason why the Godkiller is symbolized by a dead horse is because it's a bastardization, a symbol of what Sigurd had lost and thus changed his name to "The Way to Hell" showcasing his own descent of mourning to madness.

Ivan also had a very correct speculation, but I hadn't confirmed it yet, that when Sigurd said the God-Avatars needn't be beasts, he asked Tahir about the Revenant Ritual. Tahir's brother is a Revenant, which in my game means he is a body possessed by another soul. Tahir said that when he saw his brother, he had been stabbed through the heart and wrists to bleed and die so that his body could make room for another soul. Ivan compared this to the ritual they vaguely came across in the second or third session, cultists who did the same in the name of the Godkiller.

Yilcer offered information at this point:

She had asked her Archdruid before the adventure if he had ever seen this blight before. He said yes, once a long time ago, long before she was born. She asked what it was and he said it was something unnatural, or perhaps supernatural, but otherwise did not know. She asked what he did to stop it before, he told her he did "something terrible." She asked if he would have to do it again, and he simply said "I hope not."

Tork put 2 and 2 together: They found Razvra's body in the temple of the Dragon God. They found the Elk-God's body in the Godkiller's temple and an empty temple of the Elk God. There are two more champions, and two more temples. One of the champions is a guardian of the Raven goddess Morthana.

They looked at the portraits again. The one of the mystery man, Illark, had a broken frame. An Investigation check proved that it was likely thrown or otherwise smashed in frustration, but they found it strange it was still preserved with these others if Sigurd had been the one to throw it.

They also noticed, but no one seemed to pick up on my hint yet: Asa, the elf woman, had red hair and tawny skin. Yilcer passed a check and determined she was an Eldarin like herself (who is also from Brislat if you remember / read Yilcer's backstory).

:)

They flitted back and forth between whether they wanted to sell Sigurd's stuff or not. Yilcer very much did not want to, but they all decided his story was already too fucking sad AND they decapitated his dead husband - "We have to leave him something!" Tork said.

They took the stack of newer letters as well as all the books, but left the portraits and deposit box.

They asked the bank teller how old the vault was. She looked through records and found it was actually the very first account the bank ever opened and sadly did not have any official dated records from back then, but its several hundred years old. They asked when the last time someone came an she told them about a hundred years or so (which is about when Sigurd met/adopted Yilcer but no one noticed that yet).

They bought a few more things in town now that they remembere why they went to the bank to begin with: Yilcer has an account now and exchanged an Ancient coin for gold to finish their shopping spree.

After Tahir got the Distinguished Outfit from all over the shops, he decided to flirt with Dravor as a distraction. Dravor rolled a nat 1 so he was very much enamored by our dog furry in thigh highs while Xehara stole the remaining 4 speak with dead scrolls and four comprehend language scrolls. Everyone was trying to get him to steal more than that but he refused. Dravor, being a nervous wreck while Tahir continued to flirt with him, gave Tahir a special potion of healing that does 10d6 + 10 healing. Tahir kissed him as thanks and the poor man nearly passed out.

I REALLY need to draw Dravor because he's like. A tall foreboding goth wizard with long dark beard who was reduced to blabber. I told them it was like when Kiff in Futurama gets nervous and just can't say anything.

I might make a list of the things they bought if anyone is interested, A few items I ripped from BG3 but a few I made up for their particular individual needs. I'll have to ask my note-taking player what they got, though, thank the gods he's been helping me keep track.

Ivan thought about his vampire clan has a triumvirate of gods. An Angel of the Moon named Mani, A Demon of the Sun named Kuukul, and a Necromantic Sorcerer named Erste. After seeing Eloise being called Manaven in another language at a previous temple, he determined that Eloise is likely the Moon Goddess he and his people worship. His people have a temple carved into the mountain that is said to hold the corpses of their gods, but no one except the absolute elite are allowed to go there. He realizes Eloise's body may be there, but has no idea who Kuukul or Erste may be.

Before we wrapped up I gave them a summary of important locations:

The scrolls Sigurd gave to Amin (Tahir's brother) to give to Xehara has portraits of Illark and one is the seal of Stillas, a beautiful city-state of commerce and wealth. It is possible Illark could be there. It's about a 3 week journey.

Much further to the west is Brislat and Fjorsom, and thus where the Temple of the Quartet is.

To the east they may find the origins of a peculiar necklace they found in Sigartha.

To the Northwest is Osanisk, an oceanic country and home to the Temple of the Angler Goddess.

To the far east or they could Osanisk are docking points where they will have to take a boat to Aeonaclys, Ivan's home, and thus where Eloise might be (and thus putting Asa in Osanisk).

They seem to prefer to head towards Stillas, so we'll find out next week.

If you all need it, here's are the Maps:

Cities Map | Countries Map

They are currently in between the desert mountains in a valley called the Caravan Carnival in Dauthas, also called Paripahari (not labeled, sorry), it is a long river that connects the oceans and cuts through Stillas where a great many caravans convene together, a Silk Road of sorts.

[multifandomrandomgirl]

The Ropes That Bind Us - Peter Tork x Female!Reader PART SIX

Masterlist:

Taglist: @strawberry-sunset-skies

A/N: Y/h/c = your hair colour 

Y/e/c = your eye colour

“I can’t imagine they’d have taken Peter too far away.” Mike glanced between Davy and Micky who were both attempting to take notes from all the random things that were spewing out of Michael’s mouth. “He’s definitely still in the state.” Michael sighed.

“Mike, babe. Sit down, you’re making this worse for yourself. I’m sure we’ll get more leads as to where Pete is soon, but you need to chill. This level of stress isn’t going to bring him back any quicker. We need to sit and think this through, don’t even think about arguing with me. We need to think this through in a more calm way. Look, I want Pete back as badly as you do, but I know we need to think about this more rationally.” Micky walked over to Mike and put an arm around his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“But, but, imagine how scared poor Peter must be, knowing him he probably thinks we’re not coming for him. He’s probably being tortured for information. What if they’re trying to get one of us and they’re trying to hurt him to get to us and he’s taking it rather than answering? Oh god, so many things could be happening to him, what if he’s really really hurt?”

“Michael, we went over this in the last chapter, he won’t be really really hurt, please. You’re not helping anyone.” Davy stood up and hugged Mike’s other shoulder, the one that Micky wasn’t hogging.

“Right, so-” Mike started, Micky slapped a hand over his mouth.

“No, not right now Michael. We need to wait until your head is clearer when you can think straight. We need to do something that’ll make you happy. What makes you happy, Michael?” Micky asked, stroking one of Mike’s sideburns.

“Playing music.” Mike said in a quiet voice, Davy and Micky went to retrieve their instruments and Mike’s guitar, handing it to the Texan. They let him take the lead and Mike started to play ‘Sweet Young Thing’, they had barely plate for a minute before Mike stopped and shrugged off his guitar angrily. Davy and Micky glanced at each other nervously, they weren’t sure what was the reason for him doing this, although, they had a small idea.

“Michael?”

“It isn’t the same. It doesn’t sound fucking right. We need Peter. God, I can’t play music without him. Why am I even trying?” Michael snapped, kicking the table that was in front of him. “We’re nothing without him. Fuck, why’d this Lord Reynolds guy think we don’t need him? Of course we fucking need him! Not just musically but in general! He’s our best friend god fucking damnit.” Davy and Micky began to get more concerned about the Texan, they hadn’t seen him this angry for a long time, and it was scary.

“Mike, please.” Micky was practically begging at this point. “Please just calm slightly. I know it’s hard, I really do, but-” He got cut off by the older man storming out of the house. Micky looked at Davy who just shrugged and went to grab his shoes and the house key.

“God, he moves quickly. Michael? MICHAEL” Davy yelled, Micky followed his lead, shouting the name of the Texan. “Slow down, get back here. Michael!” Davy screamed across the street, getting lots of strange looks from passers-by.

“Don’t make me ground you when we get home.” Micky chased after him. “Wait, why are we doing this?” Micky turned to Davy.

“I don’t know, the author is trying to fill in some space I guess.” Davy shrugged, Micky pulled a face of confused agreement and carried on running after him.

Eventually, they approached a large mansion-like house that had a white wooden fence surrounding the outskirts of it, not much protection from a tall, angry Texan.

��You don’t think?” Davy’s sentence trailed off, surely Peter wasn’t here, was he?

“I think so, hang on.” Mike jumped the fence and snuck up to the letter box, he pulled out an envelope addressed to ‘Lord Reynolds’. A nasty grin spread over his face, the leader turned to his two companions and signalled that they follow him, Micky gave Davy a boost over the fence before hopping it himself.

“Pete’s here?” Davy looked up uncertainly at the house, he knew from past experiences with houses full of rich people that it probably wasn’t the cleverest or safest idea, but then again, he didn’t care about that right now, he just wanted Peter back home where he was safe.

“What’s that?” Micky pointed towards a hatch in the ground that hadn’t been shut properly. He looked up and Mike gave him a knowing look.

“In we go then I suppose.” Mike tried lifting it up, it was heavier than he anticipated, both of his bandmates came over to help him and between them, they got it open. They climbed down the ladder and found themselves in a long hallway with a door at the end.

“You don’t think this might be trap to hurt us all? Take Peter to be able to kidnap us all.” Davy glanced up at Michael who put his hand on his shoulder. 

“No. But even if it is, we need Peter safe, so, let’s go.” The trio made their way down the corridor.

“Let’s hope you’re right about Peter being here.”

-------------------------------

Peter glanced over to where Y/N was sat, he hadn’t heard a single noise from her for what seemed like years but had really only been three hours. He wasn’t sure whether he should try to speak or let her rest, chances were she had passed out from the stress on her body.

All he wanted was to hug her. And his friends. But right now, his priority was the girl who’d sacrificed herself to stop him from getting hurt.

“Y/N? Y/N, please, just let me know if you’re okay.” Peter whispered loudly, he heard a bit of a shuffle from where the girl was, but no noise escaped her mouth. Peter let ut a quiet cry, he was scared that she was gone for good, she had sacrificed a lot for him and he cared about her, in more ways than one apparently.

“H-hey. Don’t cry. It’s okay Peter.” A tired, croaky voice whispered from across the room, Y/N. 

“Y-you’re alive? You’re okay? Y/N, I’m so so sorry.” Peter rambled, thankful that she was still there.

“I’m fine, Pete, really.” Y/N said.

“I’m glad.”

The pair sat in silence for a bit before they heard a loud bang on the door at the opposite end of the room, both of them jumped, terrified that it was their captor returning to hurt either of them.

“You don’t think it’s?” Peter whispered, he was scared, he didn’t want to get hurt but he also didn’t want Y/N to get hurt either. He shrunk down in his chair as far as the ropes would allow him. 

“Peter? Peter are you in there?” A loud voice from the other side of the door shouted. Peter’s eyes widened, it was Micky. His friends had come for him, Y/N had been right, they do care about him! 

“Micky! Micky!” Peter raised his voice as loudly as he could. He was so happy! He thought he was going to be stuck in there forever. Y/N smiled to herself, she was happy for Peter. She knew his friends would come for him, after everything he had told her, she knew he would be found by them. She was just sad that they had found him this quickly. Y/N knew it was selfish of her to feel that way, but she’d finally felt less alone, she found a friend, someone who made her laugh. She’d been alone for years in the dark before he was kidnapped.

The lock on the door eventually gave way after Davy had picked it, light filled the room, both squinted at the brightness, Y/N hadn’t seen any light for three years. Once their eyes had adjusted, they saw three figures in the doorway, three pairs of eyes searched for Peter and ran towards him, the short Brit ran straight for Peter and untied him, pulling him up and into a tight hug as soon as he was freed. Michael and Micky took their turns in hugging the golden-haired man.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Michael questioned, checking the boy all over looking for any cuts or bruises, Peter quickly shook him off. “I’m fine, Michael. Thank you.” He said, glancing over his shoulder to try and get a look at Y/N who was sat awkwardly, staring at her feet.

“Let’s get out of here then, I don’t like the vibe this place gives off.” Davy shudders, grabbing Peter’s hand, Pete wriggled his hand out of Davy’s and ran over to Y/N. He finally got a good look at the girl, she had y/h/c that reached her shoulders, and y/e/c that were dim due to the exhaustion and trauma she’d been through. Her lip was bust, she had a black eye as well as several other cuts and bruises on her face, he couldn’t see any more of her body to see what the evil bastard that kidnapped them had done to her, Peter thought she was absolutely gorgous though.

“Go, Peter.” Y/N whispered, barely looking up, she knew it would be harder if she knew what he looked like, she caught his long blond hair out of the corner of her eyes.

“I’m not leaving without you. Come on.” Peter desperately tried to pull at the tight ropes that bound her to the chair, Y/N shook her head sadly, finally getting a look at the puppy-eyed man that she had lived with the past few days.

“Peter. You have to leave me here. Taking me would make your escape even riskier. Please, just go. You know I can handle being in here.” She smiled sadly at him, God, he’s gorgeous, she thought as she looked back at her feet again.

“Come on Pete. I know you don’t think so, but she is right. I’m sorry.” Micky wrapped his arm around the bassissts shoulder and began to guide him out of the room, leaving Y/N in the dark, alone again.

Peter sobbed the whole car journey home, he wished he could have saved Y/N.

“Peter, babe, your safe. We have you.” Michael pulled the older man into a tight hug, resting his chin on the mop of golden hair.

“I know, but, Y/N, she-she isn’t safe. He’s hurt her so much. She took all the torture and abuse that the man was going to give me. He raped her for fucksake Michael.” Peter said angrily, Michael and the other two boys who were perched on the end of the sofa were slightly taken aback. Peter didn’t do being angry, Peter didn’t raise his voice out of anger, and Peter most definitely did not swear.

“She’s been suffering there for three years. She isn’t lucky like me, she doesn’t have people who’d come and save her. I’m the only person she had god fucking damnit.” Peter stood up, kicked a book on the floor and headed for his room.

“Don’t you guys see? We have to go back for her.” Peter’s tears spilled over his eyelids and he broke down. Micky went and gently coaxed him back down onto the sofa, Davy stroked his hair. Eventually, Peter cried himself to exhaustion and fell asleep. “What are we going to do?” Micky whispered.

“We’re going back for her.”

[studestael]

Hello, this is your Santa, hoping that I will make your December at least a bit more joyful!

So, I would have a few questions to you to narrow what I should do or find to leave a surprise ask probably every day, but you know, plans are plans and life does its own things.

I've noticed you like Stu a lot, tell me, what do you love about him? What makes him charming for you? Are there any other favorite artists you like on the same level as him or is he your priority? There was also a lot of George so tell me, is he your second favorite Beatle? What about the others, what's your opinion about them?

And are there any other bands that you consider your favorites?

All of that would help me a lot. I also hope that getting a curious ask will be read by you as a beginning of a good month!

Sincerely, a bit awkward at first, your Santa <3

hello santa! nice to meet you :^)

well this is an interesting question, i do love stu a lot. i think what i like about him is the mystery around him, the fact that we obviously don't know very much about him despite every statement or letter or anything, like obviously he died at a very young age and we know him because the beatles were successful and carried his memory with them. let's be real, without the beatles he probably and unfortunately would have been forgotten. also, i absolutely love his paintings and his style is an inspiration when i draw or paint (which is not so often). another artist whose artworks i really like is henri de toulouse-lautrec, he's a french painter and sometimes his drawings are a bit "cartoonish", i think it's awesome and it depicts very well the parisian life of his days. i like to say i'm a bit stu myself :-) when i was in high school a friend of mine asked me if i had a bass guitar, i said "yeah my brother has one", he asked me to join him and be in his band, i said "i don't know how to play it", he said "it's ok nvm" and that was it, i played rock music with him and his friends. and fun fact, one of the member of the band got married this october and asked us to reunite for the wedding, 7 years later, that was fun!!

i don't know if george is my favorite beatle or second favorite beatle, i don't like to rank but... yeah i like him a lot and i think he's the most likeable one if that makes sense? idk he looked peaceful and calm and i like his musical taste and what he managed to compose from this (with the lapsteel guitars and indian inspirations for example). i obviously love them all but i think george is the most touching one?

yes! it's been a while since i listened to them but i love the monkees, mostly musically. when i was younger like 10 years ago maybe, i watched the tv show (my english was not as good as it is today so i sometimes watched without even understanding what was happening in the episode haha) and tbf i'd like to watch it again but i know it's a bit "childish" and outdated so idk if it'd make me laugh as much as it could have before. but yeah as i said, musically i love them very much. i think michael nesmith is a terrific songwriter and peter tork a fabulous musician ; thanks to him i started the banjo (i stoped practicing a long time ago but still, i'd love to get back to it)

sorry for being so talkative, those were very interesting questions, thank you santa!! have a nice day and i'm looking forward to hear from you again soon :-)))

[kudosmyhero]

The Amazing Spider-Man (vol. 1) #418: Revelations, part 3: Torment

Read Date: January 29, 2023 Cover Date: December 1995 ● Writer: Tom DeFalco ● Penciler: Steve Skroce ● Inker: Bud LaRosa ● Colorist: Bob Sharen ● Letterer: Richard Starkings ● Editor: Ralph Macchio ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● damn this artist did Aunt Anna dirty ● everyone's faces are distractingly gremlin-like ● Peter staying to help Ben fight Stromm ● ugh the art

● Arthur Stacy, brother of George Stacy ● says Spidey is responsible for George's death ● uh oh, the pumpkin on the back of the invite… the Goblin ● who dat ● Stromm and Ben both dead? ● baby either dead or kidnapped ● 👏👏👏👏 (the art brought it down a clap)

Synopsis: Mary Jane is being wheeled into the emergency room after she started undergoing painful labor while at the Daily Grind. With her is her Aunt Anna, who tries to comfort the pregnant woman who is afraid that something is happening to her unborn child. They are joined by Doctor Folsome, who tells Mary Jane that his regular doctor cannot be reached and he will be looking after her from this moment on. Also at the hospital is Daily Bugle photographer Angela Yin, who recognizes the Parker woman. As she snaps a photo of the scene Angela wonders why her husband Peter isn't here with her. She isn't the only one who is wondering where Peter Parker is. As Mary Jane is being wheeled into an operating room, Anna Watson wonders why Peter won't call her back on her cell phone.

At that very moment, Peter Parker and Spider-Man are fighting for their lives at the ruins of Midtown High as they are attacked by Gaunt and an army of robots fashioned to look like children. Peter is all too aware that Anna has been trying to get ahold of him, but can't pull himself away from the battle. As he gets another message, Spider-Man hears it and tells Peter to leave and go be with his wife and baby. However, Gaunt is intent on killing the wall-crawler and Peter doesn't think Ben will survive if he leaves and insists on staying. By this time, Angela Yin has called Joe Robertson at the Daily Bugle to tell him about Mary Jane's condition at the hospital. After hearing this, he relays the news to Glory Grant, and feels awful for Peter after everything that has happened to him recently.

Back at Midtown, Spider-Man and Peter Parker continue to fight against Gaunt and his robot army. While Ben destroys two of Gaunt's plastoid robots, Peter takes down the childlike robots. Meanwhile, at the hospital, Doctor Folsome and his team of doctors help Mary Jane through a very complicated and painful delivery. As she strains to give birth to her daughter, Mary Jane is unaware that a mysterious figure is watching from the operating theater above. Satisfied that everything is going exactly as planned, the mystery man then leaves to carry out the next phase of his plan. At Midtown, Peter manages to come across a telephone that still works and calls Anna to check in on Mary Jane. As he fights off the rest of the robots, he tells Anna that he has been stuck in a subway car. Learning that Mary Jane is having a difficult delivery and the doctors are concerned, Peter assures her that he will get there as soon as possible, saying that nothing will keep him from getting to his wife. Meanwhile, at the 28th Precinct, Detective Connor Trevan interrupts his colleagues, Francis Tork and Lou Snider, to introduce them to Arthur Stacy, the brother of the late George Stacy. Arthur tells the officers that he has called a meeting with them because the man who murdered his brother has not been brought to justice and wishes to speak to them all because of their occasional association with Spider-Man.

At that same moment, Spider-Man continues to dodge Gaunt's attack. Having just learned that he is Mendel Stromm, the wall-crawler asks how he managed to survive his brush with death and who his mysterious employer is. Gaunt ignores these questions, stating that he is only following orders from someone who wants him dead. His barrage manages to wound the web-slinger in his left shoulder. With Spider-Man at his mercy, Gaunt decides to tell him something about the wall-crawler's old friend Seward Trainer. Before he can finish off the web-head, Peter Parker leaps in and kicks Gaunt in the head, saving his life. Gaunt then tries to blast the two Spider-Men with knockout gas, but is surprised when it doesn't work. However, it soon becomes apparent that the gas neutralizes spider-sense. While back at the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson asks Joe Robertson what he knows about a surprise board meeting that has been called as well as an impromptu Halloween party organized for the staff. Joe doesn't know what the meeting is about but reminds Jonah that the staff could use a morale boost after the recent round of layoffs. He also suggests to Jonah that there won't be a disaster if the paper shuts down for a few hours so the staff can have some fun. As he says this, he is unaware that the man setting up decorations in the bullpen is also putting out jack-o'-lanterns that are rigged with explosives.

Back at the scene of the battle, Spider-Man continues launching attacks at Gaunt, demanding to know what he knows about Seward Trainer. Gaunt explains that Trainer was just another pawn, only a tool that was used to manipulate Reilly. Trainer had been on both sides, healing Stromm as well, and once his usefulness was over he was killed. Hearing how his best friend was murdered, Spider-Man loses his temper and begins ripping apart Gaunt's cybernetic armor. However, he stops short of killing Gaunt, reminding himself that he isn't a heartless killer like the Punisher. With the battle over, Spider-Man tells Peter to get going so he can be there when his daughter is born. Having destroyed the last of Gaunt's robots, Parker doesn't argue and bounds away. With Stromm disarmed, Spider-Man then begins demanding answers when he is suddenly blasted by someone standing behind him. Spider-Man instantly recognizes who this man is and can't believe it as he believed him to be dead. When the web-slinger tries to attack him he is blasted in the chest, crumpling to the ground. With Spider-Man down, the mystery employer reminds Gaunt what happens when his minions fail him and blasts him as well.

At the hospital, Mary Jane gives the final push to deliver her baby. When she doesn't hear the baby crying, Mary Jane asks what is wrong with her baby. That's when Doctor Folsome apologizes, making Mary Jane realize that he baby didn't survive. As she cries, one of the nurses, who turns out to be a woman by the name of Alison Mongrain, removes her surgical mask and wheels a cart out of the operating room to her car. She drives out to the waterfront where she meets with her mystery employer, confirming that she has brought the package she was hired to bring. As he prepares to put her on a private boat that is to take her to Europe, the man says that she has been compensated accordingly, with a sizable bonus and travel expenses. Mongrain thanks him for his generosity. Lastly, as she departs, he says that she may call him Norman… Norman Osborn.

… Revelations concludes in Spider-Man #75 and Spider-Man: Revelations #1.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Amazing_Spider-Man_Vol_1_418)

Fan Art: Ben Reilly as Spiderman by anubis2kx

Accompanying Podcast: ● Amazing Spider-Talk - "Revelations"

[cleanxpert]

Forenkling af affaldshåndtering: Vigtigheden og fordelene ved affaldssortering

I nutidens hurtigt voksende verden er håndtering af affald blevet et presserende emne. Efterhånden som lossepladser løber over, og miljøhensyn eskalerer, er praksis med affaldssortering dukket op som en effektiv løsning. Denne artikel udforsker betydningen af affaldssortering og fremhæver dens mange fordele. Ved at opmuntre enkeltpersoner og lokalsamfund til at adskille deres affald, kan vi tage et afgørende skridt hen imod at skabe en renere og mere bæredygtig fremtid.

Vigtigheden af affaldssortering Affaldssortering, også kendt som affaldsadskillelse, involverer adskillelse af forskellige typer affaldsmaterialer i forskellige kategorier. Denne proces muliggør effektiv håndtering og genanvendelse af affald, reducerer byrden på lossepladser og minimerer miljøskader. Ved at sortere affald ved kilden kan vi reducere forureningen betydeligt og spare værdifulde ressourcer.

En af de primære årsager til affaldssortering er forebyggelse af krydskontaminering. Blanding af forskellige typer affald kan gøre dem ugenanvendelige og komplicere affaldshåndteringsprocessen. Ved at sortere affald i kategorier som plast, papir, glas, metal og organisk affald muliggør vi specialiserede genbrugsprocesser, der er skræddersyet til hvert materiale. Denne tilgang maksimerer potentialet for genanvendelse og genbrug af materialer, sparer energi og reducerer behovet for råmaterialeudvinding.

Fordele ved affaldssortering Affaldssortering giver et utal af fordele, både for miljøet og samfundet som helhed. Først og fremmest mindsker det belastningen på lossepladser. Ved at omdirigere genanvendelige materialer fra lossepladser kan vi forlænge deres levetid og minimere behovet for nye. Dette fører til betydelige omkostningsbesparelser og hjælper med at bevare naturlige landskaber.

Ydermere fremmer affaldssortering genbrugsindustrien. Ved at sortere affald ved kilden sikres det, at genanvendelige materialer når de relevante faciliteter, hvor de kan behandles og omdannes til nye produkter. Genbrug sparer ressourcer, reducerer drivhusgasemissioner og reducerer energiforbruget sammenlignet med at producere varer fra råvarer.

Affaldssortering fremmer også ansvarligt forbrug og reduktion af affald. Når enkeltpersoner er opmærksomme på miljøpåvirkningen af deres valg, er de mere tilbøjelige til at anlægge bæredygtige vaner, såsom at genbruge varer eller vælge produkter med minimal emballage. Ved at praktisere affaldssortering fremmer lokalsamfund en kultur af miljøbevidsthed og bidrager til en cirkulær økonomi.

Derudover letter affaldssortering sikker bortskaffelse af farlige materialer. Genstande som batterier, elektronisk affald og kemikalier kræver specialiseret håndtering for at forhindre forurening og beskytte folkesundheden. Korrekt adskillelse og bortskaffelse af sådanne materialer sikrer, at de ikke ender på lossepladser eller forurener vandområder.

For mere info:-

sprayflasker

spritservietter

tork håndklædeark

toiletpapir dispenser

[vintagetvstars]

Peter Tork needs more cute pictures!

Thank you for the propaganda!

- mod vintage

[pointed-beetle]

Lovely Rivalry (Tom Riddle X Ravenclaw! Male Reader) Part 2 of 4

Someday I'm going start putting good GIFs at the start like my friend Torke and it's going to be all over for you bitches

Here's part two of a series where every part is a different house! Hufflepuff Part, Gryffindor Part

Word Count: 1770

Summary: Tom knew from the moment he heard your family name that he would have problems with you, though he hadn't realized just how complicated those problems would get when bullying you got boring.

Warnings: Bullying, no dialogue, high expectations, study stress, intense Tom arrogance, slight manipulation behaviour

You were gorgeous to him, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from you while you all sat for dinner. He found himself breathless at the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

He noticed how you skillfully ignored your surroundings when you were working, concentrating so hard that not even your name being called could pull you out of your trance.

He’d sooner be cursed to throw up slugs for the rest of his life than tell you any of that.

You were annoying. You were Tom’s biggest rival and most significant threat to the perfect image he had spent so much time building up and shaping.

Your smouldering gaze would land on him frequently, and he swore it started a few fires, the hateful eye contact was overwhelming, and he usually broke it first, scowling and nearly snapping the tip of his quill clear off.

His world changed when he had heard your last name during sorting, scowling at your back and tightening his jaw when you were sorted in Ravenclaw, and he made his way to the Slytherin table. He knew your family very well. Many did. You just were as talented as he was.

You had to be. Your family was filled with famous scholars and Auror’s, not a single one straying from the Ravenclaw path and carving their way through even the hardest of stone just to be recognised for their hard work and by God were you no different.

He loved the way your knuckles curved when holding your wand against his throat, his eyes following up your arm and to your angry eyes, an amused chuckle escaping him as you scoff and snap away, shoving your wand into your pocket, pushing past him and to your common room.

That weird mixed passion burned hotter inside his stomach when he learned that you were a Prefect alongside him. He was pissed that you were as good as he was, getting the same amount of positive attention from people, having absolutely nothing to hide with the façade.

He’s watched you stay up very late into the night, taking advantage of being a Prefect to stay in the library well after curfew to take notes, gripping your hair by the fistful in frustration and rereading the same passage as if it would change each time your teary eyes scanned the page.

At first, he was delighted that your talent had not come naturally to you. Your struggle to be as good as him made him excited, maybe you really weren’t as good as you made yourself out to be; he was even sure you were cheating, though he never caught it.

After a while, that delight turned into a sort of pity. You worked so hard just to stay on the family's path, yet with absolutely no recognition for that treacherous road. Only the result of the hard work and never how you got there.

Though he saw it. He saw your tears smearing ink on the page, you had spent hours writing on, a scowl on your face as you made sure that every letter on every word was legible and perfect.

Tom watched you rewrite a paper that took you hours because of a few legibility mistakes, he knew you would’ve torn up the paper if you didn’t need it to copy.

Your anger was beautiful, but it crushed him when you aimed it at yourself. When your smile dropped ever so slightly at not receiving the highest points on a project that you had stayed up all night for.

Tom had accidentally incurred your wrath when you received a rather crushing score on the following test, the teacher looking at you with eyes filled with so much disappointment that you had withered on the spot, disappearing into the bathroom to cry until the class was over.

He went to check on you with pure intentions. He genuinely wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, that your disappointment would turn into that burning determination he so admired.

Though the moment he opened his mouth and vile bullying words only slithered out, he wished he just stayed in the dungeons worrying about his own grades.

What was he saying to you? You missed dinner the other night over this test, and here he is standing over you while you’re hunched over a sink, sneering at you and asking why you ever thought you deserved to be a Prefect like him. How you even dared to be the second-best to him, you were ruining his image. How would people view him now if you were as good as it got?

You shoved him to the cold floor, silent with rage and hot tears, sobbing so hard that even if you had things to say back to him, you wouldn’t be able to get them out.

A shaky scoff escapes you before you step around him and out of the bathroom, the doors falling together heavily with an echoed boom, leaving him alone on the floor with regret settling in his chest.

You hadn’t been at dinner, he expected as much, a sour feeling twisted up his stomach so tight he couldn’t eat, barely sipping at his pumpkin juice as he stared at the area you usually sat at, eyebrows knitted together as he tightly gripped his chalice.

It took a few days for you to settle on your lousy grade and Tom’s words, though as you worked on your homework, everything sat heavy in the back of your mind, a scowl on your face.

How dare he think that you didn’t deserve to be on the same level as him. You did as well as him, and now you were more fired up to do even better than that. Settling on second best was no longer an option.

By the end of your fifth year, you were number one in class, entirely surpassing Tom and snarling your teeth at him when he would look over at you in disbelief, deep inside, he was proud of you. You were so worthy of being beside him, for him to say that you were more than his friend, that he loved you, and he wanted to show you off.

In sixth year he sat in the same train compartment as you, an offended and disgraced look tainted your features when he opened the room.

He made you sit. You were going to listen to what he had to say. He was very full of himself, and Tom would make sure you understood how bad he felt because he didn’t like the feeling of being remorseful over something; it was foreign and unwelcome. His apology was selfish, and you could feel it in every word he let out.

You laughed at him! Tom Riddle was laughed at when he was being kind! He didn’t have to say anything and could’ve let you rot. He could’ve kept saying hateful things to you when you passed in the hallways.

He smiles dangerously at you, a shaky sigh escaping him before he leans back in the seat, wetting his lips and raising his eyebrows, wanting an explanation of why you were not expecting his very generous apology.

His heart sank when your smile faded into something he only saw in the mirror. His fingertips felt a little more cold than usual.

Why couldn’t he just embrace you already? Clutch you close and run his fingers through your hair. Why wouldn’t you just accept his apology so he could help you study and ease so much of that burden that you were carrying on your shoulders?

Why did you have to be so stubborn and just let him take some of the pressure that you ignorantly decided was your problem.

Your words sat heavy with him for the next few weeks, his mind racing with words that he would usually throw at you.

You had rightfully called him a monster, someone that hid behind such a pretty smile just to have such an ugly underneath that he was a coward. Weak.

You really thought his smile was pretty?

He sighs and leans against a pillar, rubbing at his eyes, full of exhaustion and just wanting to finish his rounds for the night so he could sleep and forget about what you were doing to him.

You were ruining his plans, making his mind muddled with pointless things like care and lust that he forgot to meet Slughorn for extra lessons on forbidden magic.

It took him a week into winter to finally settle on what he wanted to do.

For a while, interactions with him were minimal compared to what they used to be sometimes, then, he would purposefully cross your nightly paths to bully you. Everything had simmered down to brief looks during shared classes, him merely standing to the side of you during Prefect meetings and nodding along to what you had to say only to add onto it with only positive remarks, building onto what you had to add.

It was hard for you to admit that your hard venomous feelings for him softened when he gave you a moment to breathe, and all of your glances towards him had you snapping your head away when he caught you staring, and all he did was genuinely smile at you.

You had been observing him during dinner, quill idly pooling ink on your parchment. You were so focused on your notes when a ruckus at the Slytherin table was finally irritating you enough to cause you to look up, only to see Tom smiling at his friends playing a game of Wizards Chess and being much too passionate about such a silly game.

He glances over to you, expecting you to still be taking notes and sucking in a breath when your eyes meet, and he sees that you’re smiling at him.

He clears his throat and quickly averts his gaze, covering his ever-growing grin behind his hand as you just look back down at your notes and sigh at the ink splotch now on your messages. The teacher would have to deal with it, you supposed.

You were gorgeous, and your warm hand against his cold ones made his stressing thoughts melt away into simple ones like when he could take you to Hogsmeade again.

Were you doing better in Transfiguration?

Now he could see your eye crinkles up close, brush his thumb over the curve of your knuckles and shape his hands to your face.

A day never went by without him expressing what he loved about you.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Every time I make a post about Jason Spisak (VA for Wally West in Young Justice) and his constant posting about Wally, I tell myself that it'll be the last post about Jason Spisak. The guy is as obsessed with Kid Flash as I am. He posts about Wally all the time and I can't keep on making posts every time he does.

And every time I say that he turns around and does something EVEN. MORE. UNHINGED.

First it was his little jokes during streams saying "he's not dead, Tork", then it was his comments about how excited he is for Season Four and about how he got to do some incredible stuff this season, then it was him thinking Wally was in the intro, then it was the Spitfire love letters he posted after every Artemis episode, and then it was the constant bombardment of Wally West posts and lightning bolt emojis and now it's rebloging and liking posts from fans asking for Wally back???

That's not even the first time he's done that!!! It's just the most recent!!!

So I'm sorry if you keep seeing posts about this man. Jason is going a little stir crazy because he's been waiting for this longer than we have and it's making me crazy.

[strawberryfields4now]

TORK-lovers everywhere devastated by this one

Brenda I don’t know how to tell you this but you’re buying 16 Magazine in the year 1967

[nightmarist]

DnD Session Update!

First Update | Previous Update

Xehara’s player wasn’t able to make it, BUT it was a good opportunity to showcase potential side effects of the items the players reaped from the vault of the previous temple.

As they continued to search the temple of the Elk God, they were able to learn a few things:

Sigurd Helvega is the name of the High Priest of this temple, and the seals and signatures used for the temple match the seals and signatures from a pile of letters they stole from Sigurd in the first session. This also confirms for them Sigurd is at least 500 years old as of the destruction of this temple.

They search around and collect a few small things, looting the cabinets and treasure. Ivan stole an elk robe pin from a corpse. Tahir the Jackal started stealing bones from the corpses.

They returned to the central foyer and looted the pockets of a corpse. It had a small ledger with short hand names and numbers. They were able to discern this was more like a log book of movement and rooms, indicating priests’ quarters in addition to being a collection of time cards. They couldn’t figure out the short hand but they did assume correctly that Sigurd must have a room here. They also found a flask in his pocket. It was pretty, silver with gold embossed leaves and a round lid top. Sniffing it they found it was just straight alcohol.

They entered a gold filigree gate into the Sanctuary, where two ground doors flanked a statue of the Elk god, a pair of stairs flanked the statue with two more doors, and a final upstairs door on the right balcony. They went into the left ground door. This was a large office area with one big wooden desk overgrown with vines and leaves from a broken window on the left side, a smaller pair of desks on the right, a door in the far right corner on the right wall, a door straight ahead, but otherwise nothing of particular more besides more boring paperwork and some statues.

They checked the right wall door, it led directly into the room on the other side of the deer statue. Nothing of particular note, it was another office space but with more small desks, indicating the room they were just in was likely the High Priest’s. Both offices had a door on the north wall.

They wanted to enter the one from the high priest office assuming (correctly) it could be Sigurd’s. It was locked however and the only door they’ve encountered so far with handles. Everything else were simple swinging doors. All doors at this point has been described as being decorated with organic leaf filigree but this one has the image of a deer indicating it’s greater importance. Tork thought the lacquered door was too pretty to tear down. He rolled very high to knock the handle off the door rather cleanly and opened it that way.

It was a large master bedroom, an ornate canopy bed lay on the left hand wall in front of a beautiful stained glass window. A wardrobe directly north, two large and well worn trunks on the right hand wall, three paintings on the wall above the trunks, and the wall where the door they came from had two more paintings. There was a large, round bowl about 35 inches in diameter full of a waxy substance. Above it was a beautifully ornate candle Chandelier with some stalactites of wax that had dripped down over time.

Do you know how long it took out of character them to realize the bowl-table was for catching candle wax. Do you. It was laughable. We did in fact laugh about it.

Anyway, Tahir looked at the middle painting on the right wall. It was labeled “Sigurd Helvega” but it was tipped to shreds, impossible to piece together. He could tell it was once a portrait but that’s all.

Ivan tried Detect Magic. Nothing besides their own equipment gave off magic. Tork looked at the two paintings in the south wall. They were portraits of the swordsman and archer from the pre ious temple, but with first and last names different from what the plaques at the previous temple had. Razvra Zhiat, and Asa Heilung. He looked at the other two paintings near “the beauty and the beast” painting (what they dubbed sigurds torn portrait). The angel from the temple was a portrait there, named Eloise Starsguard, and a landscape impressionist painting of a meadow with a village.

They all thought Sigurd was arrogant for putting his portrait not only with sacred hero-gods, but his was even slightly larger than theirs. Oh, so close….

Ivan looked in the wardrobe. It was plain, but had three sets of clothes left in the bulk. Two priest robes, one with a tippet embroidered with a pair of elk - he took the tippet as a collector of religious iconography. A third set of clothing that looked more like light armor, or traveling clothes, embroidered with some elk symbology. He discerned it was probably a special pilgrimage outfit.

On the other half of the wardrobe he found a long sword with an ornate scabbard, a short bow, and ten arrows in a quiver. There was an empty slot for a staff.

The drawers were disheveled as if they were taken from in a hurry. More letters buried in them, as if trying to be hidden. He took the letters but didn’t examine them yet.

Tahir took the bow and arrows. Ivan took the sword.

Tahir wanted to check out the bed, see if there was anything hidden. He rolled a 1. He noticed the bed was a very nice quality, extremely soft down with silk sheets and down pillows. He got distracted by how nice it was sitting on it.

Tork checked out the trunks but they both locked, each having a keyhole. He asked Hank the Haoma to look around. Hank sniffed around and came to the bed Tahir was just chilling on, admiring the thread count.

Tork got mad at Tahir for not looking around. He flipped the bed over so hard the key flung somewhere in the room. They did Eventually find the key and opened the chests. One was a trunk full of healers supplies. Mostly empty or rotten herbs, but a great many and well protected glass vials, beakers, tubes, distillation tools and other things they couldn’t perfectly place but obvious it was a healer and/or alchemists large travel kit. The other had documents. They found three land deeds, each with star charts for each season to be able to find the locations, and crude drawings of landmarks to find them. Several more letters, mostly clothes, this was likely used for actual travel.

They collected the deeds to look at later. They exited and went back to the sanctuary with the elk statue. They went upstairs to the right door flanking the elk. It was a large mostly empty room, four pillars and the walls on either side had stairs like staggers as if for sitting or standing. A thin door to the immediate right. Directly in front was an altar space with used candles and old braziers. The altar had the image of the elk god in human form.

They opened the door and found it was a simple closet. It had incense, candles, two extra braziers, a few statues, and a small barrel. Ivan popped the top cork and discovered it was wine. Everyone had a swig. They took two sets of 50ft rope and shoved it in their bag of holding.

They went to the matching left door upstairs and discovered a replica of the same room, but it was different. The altar was toppled over and the statue of the elk god’s deer form was broken in pieces. There were large streaks of something dark coming from the altar place. Ivan detected no magic, but could smell it wasn’t blood. Tahir was going to lick it, but rolled a nat20 for perception. Before locking it he could smell the stench of old rot, and decided it wasn’t worth risking his health.

Tork assumed it was the black blight they’ve encountered before.

In this room, Xehara started clutching his throat. Ivan noticed the necklace Xehara got from the vault was reacting and while previously it had dropped binational Magic attached to it, it now had necromancy attached yo it before Xehara passed out. Tork swaddled him and carried him on his chest.

They left the room for the final door on the upper level right wall. It was another office, but it was completely ripped apart. However, what set it apart from all the others was that there was no external damage, not from broken stones or trees like the others, this was destroyed by someone looking for something. They pieced together it wasn’t just some random looters; things of value were still there. Whoever did this was looking for something specific.

Ivan detected magic from a large bell that had been cut from its rope, detecting abjuración but very faintly. He discerned with arcana and religion that it was likely a protective magic that when rung would protect the area or its people, and discerned it likely only had one final ring left by the way its magic was so faded in his vision.

He tried to pick it up by himself, nat 1’ing a strength check. He toppled over and the bell rang, releasing a magic, protective aura around all of them. Tork shook his head and called Ivan an idiot, lifting the bell like it was nothing with one hand. He kept the bell.

Outside, they plotted together their findings.

Tork knows how to read astronomy maps and star charts and was able to figure out the previous temple where the elk god’s corpse was is the general location of one of the deeds in Sigurd’s name. The three statues in that place, the swordsman, archer, and angel were portraits in his room. There was also a statue of Sigurd himself at that temple.

He asked Ivan about the Godkiller. Ivan recited the legend (here). Tork thinks Sigurd has something to do with the Godkiller but isn’t sure how exactly they connect.

The previous temple also had a pentagram lock with five crystal keys corresponding to locations on the world map via a riddle referencing the first pantheon’s origin myth. He matched the three deeds to the general locations to three of the keys, one of which is where Ivan came from. Ivan’s home city has a holy catacomb dedicated to an angel, a demon, and an alchemist who are said to have created the first vampires with alchemy. He can’t quite figure out the connection beyond that.

The dead god temple had statues of a female angel, Sigurd, a male swordsman, and a female archer. Ivan knows for a fact they share the angel as part of their pantheon but the descriptions of the demon and alchemist vary too widely to connect them to the swordsman or Sigurd, let alone the archer woman isn’t part of his pantheon at all.

Tork thinks the black blight is connected somehow to Sigurd, and Sigurd somehow to the Godkiller. Sigurd owns property near three locations of the five crystal keys. Two are confirmed to be temples. The Godkiller is associated with necromancy, vampires, the color teal, herbalism, and alchemy.

I think that’s everything. Tork’s player took a lot of notes so I’ll double check with what I confirmed for him and update when necessary.