#again forgive me if it's not very legible

[epicfroggz]

Age of Shadow

(This is a fan-made Messmer questline and ending, not based on cut content or anything of the sort. Source is: I made it up. Thanks to @purpupa for helping with some of the items, inspiring me, and listening to my crazed ramblings at the midnight hours. Very long post ahead, enjoy!)

After his fight, particularly after the Hornsent has left his arena, you will be able to locate Messmer at the entrance to the keep’s infirmary, near the West Rampart site of grace. He will be standing in thought before these three chairs:

Messmer has donned a cloak made of Shadow and patched himself up using black gauze (see drawing above). When prompted, he says:

“Hello, Tarnished. There art three chairs here, but none fit me. That seemeth an oversight, does it not?”

Messmer does not turn to face you when he speaks. When prompted again, he says:

“… Thou hast not walked away yet. Doth thee needeth something?”

>Ask how he is alive

pleasantly “Serpents art exceedingly difficult to kill. Believe me, I have tried. Is that all?”

>Ask why he is not attacking

“I had underestimated thee, Tarnished. Thee hast strength befitting a lord. I shouldst not have doubted my mother.” pause “The serpent didst not expect a lightless creature like itself to be elevated to such a standing. It appears things hath changed in mine absence. I have much to learn.”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, I have a request, if thou’rt up for it. I hath misplaced some notes of mine, a recipe for a particular physick. If thee bringeth it to me, thee shalt be rewarded. Farewell, for now.”

The key item Messmer’s Notes can be found in the Specimen Storehouse, near the Storehouse, Loft site of grace. It requires climbing up the catwalks and dropping down to an area with bookshelves.

Messmer’s Notes - Barely legible cursive scrawl written by Messmer the Impaler. Details a recipe for a medicine once derived from one of his mother’s blessings. It appears to be based off a childhood memory, with a few added ingredients “for taste”.

When you return to the infirmary, Messmer will be kneeling in the “O, Mother” gesture before a shrine to Marika that he has set up, the three chairs neatly pushed out of the way. When prompted, he retracts his hands, and says:

“Hello again, Tarnished. Didst thee findeth the recipe?”

You may then give him Messmer’s Notes. Alternatively, you may choose to give him a Blessing of Marika if there is one in your inventory.

>Offer Messmer’s notes

“Oh! I thank thee. Here, thy compensation.” gives you a Rune of an Unsung Hero

>Offer Blessing of Marika

“Oh, this is… Where didst thee get this? Nay, ‘tis not my place to ask. My sincerest gratitude, Tarnished.” gives you a Marika’s Rune

You may now ask Messmer more questions:

>Ask about the jarfolk

“Ah. What remains of my mother’s people. I hath tried desperately, for aeons it seemeth, to ease their suffering, yet… At what point is keeping a patient alive no longer in the interest of their wellbeing? At what point does it becometh insanity?“ shakily “I still feeleth as though I hast failed them…”

The second question only unlocks after you have defeated both Rellana and Gaius. If you have not, when you leave and travel back to the West Rampart site of grace, you will be greeted by the sound of Messmer weeping. Walking within ten feet of him or breaking objects in the room will cause him to stop. When prompted, he says:

trying to sound intimidating but holding back tears “Begone, Tarnished.” shakily “Messmer does not wish to speak to thee at this moment…”

Leaving and traveling back to the West Rampart site of grace will let you choose the second question:

>About your friends…

“I knoweth, Tarnished. They were in thy way, were they not? Rellana, and Gaius… I shall grant them a hero’s burial. May they returneth to the Erdtree yet, even if that is a vain hope in this land.” quietly “My friends, forgive me… For I have availed you nothing…”

>leaving dialogue

“Tarnished, thee can travel to the Lands Between, can thee not? I have another request for thee.”

A cutscene plays wherein Messmer carefully pulls a snake from his eye socket. During it, he says: “After shedding the seal, I recalled abilities lost to me. Some wonderful, some terrible, some… Gah! Hah… For thee, Tarnished. On thy travels, I bid thee well.”

Thus he will grant you this key item:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Writhes around often. Stares longingly at the world, or perhaps stares hungrily at you. Who can tell? “Do take care of it, wilt thee?”

After reluctantly accepting the serpent, when you travel back to any grace in the Lands Between that Melina can spawn at, there will be a new option to Speak to Melina. She will say:

“What in the world is that creature you travel with? It seems to like me… You are exceedingly warm, little snake.” pause “It appears hungry. I can feed it some runes, if you would like?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“Snakes are said to be traitors to the Erdtree, but we too are walking the path of heresy. Let’s get you fed, little one… There. Do tell, where did you find it?” pause “A long lost demigod pulled it out of his eye? Have you been afflicted with madness? No, you are entirely sincere. Huh. Well, it seems harmless enough.”

The serpent must be fed one more time to continue the quest. Speak to Melina at any grace and she will say:

“Hello. The little one hungers once again. Would you like to offer some runes?”

>Accept (-100 runes)

“I am surprised at its good nature, though I have witnessed it spit a red flame when angered. It is impossible not to question what sort of demigod it came from…”

An interaction occurs wherein Messmer materializes in a shadowy haze—not unlike the spirit fog through which Melina appears to you. He introduces himself: “Ah, so it was thee feeding the wee serpent? I knew it smelled like kin… I am Messmer, and thee?”

dumbfounded “Melina?”

“I see. Melina. Sister of mine, I knoweth of the kindling that smolders within thee.” he summons a small flame in his hand to show her “There is no need to burn thy self again. The Tarnished and I shall see it through.”

After this, the description of the Juvenile Serpent item updates:

Juvenile Serpent - One of the base serpent’s progeny, pulled from the eye of Messmer the Impaler. Prefers the company of the kindling maiden, as her touch feels like home. It will not bite the hand that feeds it. Serves as an anchor between the Lands Between and the veiled Land of Shadow.

(Optional) Taking the serpent in this state to the Church of Vows site of grace allows you to choose the new option, Speak to Messmer, which will summon him in shadowy spirit:

“Thou hast met Miriel? We became acquainted when Rellana once brought me here… ‘Tis a burning memory now, but the pastor is a wise beast indeed.” he looks to the sky “‘Heresy is not native to the world. All things can be conjoined’. We have forgotten that. We have forgotten ourselves, what we held most dear. To repair shattered Gold, I must layeth bare the ugliest truths of this world, those which I have been the bearer of for so long—I must mend it with Shadow. For there is no light that exists without the dark.”

Taking the serpent to the Forge of the Giants site of grace allows you to choose Speak to Messmer:

“Thou hast done well to come this far, Tarnished. Long have the prophets uttered of this moment. ‘Tis not lightly I choose to fulfill it, but… I wouldst prefer to give my men the option to return home, if nothing else. Art thou prepared to commit a cardinal sin, with me?”

>Accept

A cutscene plays, in which the Erdtree and Scadutree are burned at once in Messmer’s flame. Messmer speaks:

“Tarnished, hold my kindling aloft. From here, I shall do my part… O, Erdtree, and Scadutree both, ye shall burn together. For the sake of the new Lord, and a new world, mended.”

You continue your journey to Farum Azula and then back to Leyndell, Capital of Ash. Sir Gideon Ofnir will have access to the incantation “Messmer’s Orb” in his fight (why wasn’t this a thing already???). At the Queen’s Bedchamber site of grace, you must choose to Speak to Messmer one last time:

“Ah… Thou art close. Within the Erdtree, I intend to confront my mother. If it be true she has become infirm, and lost all sense of self… Then I shalt taketh her place. The Two Fingers rejected me long ago, but I am yet capable. If it cometh to this, will thee be my Lord?”

>Accept

“I thank thee. We have come a long way, Tarnished.” small laugh “When it cometh to thee, I find I have no regrets. Take this, and when the bell tolls, summon me forth. To stand before my mother once again.”

Thus you will be granted this key item:

Mending Rune of the Abyssal Prince - Mending rune gestated by Messmer the Impaler. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord. Formed of a swirling mass of serpents, and the base serpent biting its own tail. It will embed a Shadow lost back into the Golden Order, restoring balance. The “base” in the base serpent’s name refers both to its nature and the place it once belonged, at the roots of the Erdtree where light does not reach.

After defeating Radagon and Elden Beast, you will have the option to summon Messmer from a shadowy summon sign on the ground, giving this final cutscene:

“‘Those who walk alongside flame shall one day meet the road of Destined Death’… Yet, it seemeth my road hast led me back to thee.”

“Mother… Thee may rest now. I shall put thee, and this world, back together again…”

Messmer gently gives Marika’s head to you, and you place it upon her body, the Elden Ring becoming mended with the abyssal rune. The scene lingers on her as the shadows in the background deepen, and as a squelching sound grows in volume, soon thunderous. From the darkness suddenly emerges the abyssal serpent to swallow her whole, its red eyes burning against the dark:

The scene cuts to black.

Messmer narrates the final scene, showcasing the now physical Erdtree grafted unto its Scadu counterpart: “The fallen leaves tell a story… Of a Tarnished who became Elden Lord... And the serpent that became a god. A god that ushered in a gentle dark, so that this shattered world may heal.

So that the light of Gold can shine ever more brilliantly, against an Age of Shadow."

[seancekitsch]

Can’t Stand Me Now; a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

CHAPTER THREE: Gift Horse

Y/N Stark and Aegon Targaryen. Aegon Targaryen and Y/N Stark. Inseparable since both eldest children met at Kings Landing University, until they weren’t. One night of drunken passion ruins it all.

Five years later, Aegon is coming off a broken engagement to Larissa Lannister and sends a risky Instagram DM to none other than Y/n Stark.

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, more to come as needed

Barre class is across the city, in Sara’s neighborhood. A large building part of a smaller art university that is made up of mixed use floors. Some are classrooms, a black box theater, workshops, and nestled in at the very top is your barre instructor’s studio. And while it’s rented for her by a mostly online chain company that sells classes, she runs it as if she’s the choreographer for the Winterfell ballet company back home, the most prestigious in all of Westeros. It’s routine that you go there at seven with Sara, then open the shop at noon twice a week. Only Satuday you missed class, and today you’re running late. Sara’s only given you slight hell for ditching her, which is unusual. You love your siblings, you really do, but they both live up to the ‘The North Remembers’ stereotype. Frequently arguing with you and the nanny when you were kids, when Cregan and Sara could never drop anything. So Sara not being too pissed at you skipping barre has you questioning everything.

Your sneakers slap against the pavement as you pick up your pace, ready to catch even more hell about your inability to be prompt to anything besides the store opening. You sigh as your turn the block, the building finally imposing on your view of one of the more tree lined areas of the city.Despite the chill in the air, the trees still have leaves and the sun is bright and warm against your hoodie, oversized and spritzed with your signature perfume Mugler Alien. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you ignore it, knowing already who it is. 

Aegon has been texting you. Long paragraphs sometimes, barely legible ranting other times. He’s filling you in on his family, his life, been telling you how much he misses his best friend. Tuesday night he drunk dialed you and in no uncertain terms told you how hot you were and exactly how he would fuck you every which way every day of the week. That one was hard, mostly because in moments of weakness, you cannot help but think about it and the way he practically moaned into the phone. More than once you’d pictured yourself underneath him, on top of him, pressed against the cold shower tile, thrown to the floor, even bent over the till at your shop. He’d wormed his way back in, at least mentally. You’d decidedly kept your distance, not entertaining a lot of his messages, not texting him first. You hadn’t seen him since Sunday morning, and you were planning on keeping it that way until he gave you a clear answer to all of your questions. 

That was the most infuriating part. Whenever you actually text him to ask about why he’s back in your life or why he left in the first place, he just tells you it’s better explained in person. You’re not completely sure you want to meet in person again, though. You know yourself well enough to know you’ll probably forgive him again right away, no matter the reason. 

And Old Gods be damned, a lot of his messages are tempting. You want to hang onto every word, respond just as eagerly, purging thoughts into those little blue text bubbles and letting him in. Keeping your phone in your pocket is the best protection for yourself, certain that whatever Aegon Targaryen is up and doing at 6:55 on a Thursday is a diabolical trap to get you to respond and fall back into old habits with him. 

You fling open the door to the building, more or less jogging to the elevator and slamming your knuckle into the button. The elevator here is new, and moves quickly. 

You more or less tumble out of it, already hearing the sarcastic jeering on Sara’s tongue from here. Only, when you enter the studio, that doesn’t happen. She doesn’t call out to you right away, doesn’t stop what she’s doing. 

Sara isn’t alone, though, and the sight has you tripping over your feet. The silver hair is unmistakable, and for a moment your mind drifts back to your unanswered texts, knowing the Targaryen siblings are more or less a unit, and she probably knows about at least a few of the goings on of her brother and you. Helaena is the same age difference to Aegon as you are to Cregan, the only real difference being that her family is only slightly messier than yours. While your family is plagued by maybe more than one affair baby scandal and ski lodge residences, her parents being loyal to one another and having lived all in one house might actually be their plague. 

For a brief second, your blood runs cold knowing that she realistically knows more than you. You’re not the kind of person who’s used to not having the power and information. You’re used to holding all the dirt, the gossip, the emotional ammo so to speak. In college it was a weapon at worst and a tool at best, and now it is a shield. Only today, Helaena holds the shield instead of you. 

Sara leans in close to the Targaryen, whispering and giggling to one another as if they were alone in the world. This must be why Sara was not as mad as she usually is about your skipping this weekend. The two look like they’re in their own little world, a Sara Helaena bubble where everything is so funny and their proximity is their barrier. They look almost entranced, and when Helaena brushes hair off of Sara’s shoulder, your feet find themselves again. 

“What’s up, did you find a new barre partner?” You ask, looking questioningly between your sister and Aegon’s sister. The women look close, as if there was a shared something between them, and for a moment jealousy spikes within you. But then you reign it back in, immediately recognizing the feeling as one thats completely inappropriate. Sara deserves friends, and you should get some more. 

“Hel here had to get out of that stuffy estate, it’s apparently all doom and gloom there,” Sara explains, “she showed up at the class you ditched.”

Her tone is haughty, but you know it’s a joke. She’s been filled in just enough about the situation to only slightly rag on you about the whole thing. Sara doesn’t know about Aegon’s order, doesn’t know about the near constant stream of messages that pour in, doesn’t know about the comfort being wrapped in his cologne spritzed blankets for at least a few hours. 

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes, “Because your dear old sister is so easy to replace.”

“Oh, the more the merrier,” Helaena chimes in happily, pulling her bag over near where you dropped yours. Her bag looks almost identical to yours, but instead of a charcoal and wine color way, it’s sage green and sand. 

“I agree, darling,” you say, pulling off your hoodie to get ready to warm up. 

Conversation flows freely then, shoes and inhibitions kicked to the side. There is a certain comfort to this, a confirmation that the world did not end because for some unknown reason someone in the Targaryen family doesn’t hate you. Granted, you’re at least half sure Aegon doesn’t, and Aemond you’d only seen in passing once in five years. You had been on a date to a brewery when he entered with an older woman, and then your date went to shit. All because you could not get signature silver curls out of your mind.

You lean down to touch your toes, chipped manicure just brushing an even more chipped pedicure. It’s when you rise back up that Helaena tries to get your attention specifically.

“You know I tried to hate you,” Helaena starts as if she had read your mind, her eyes and voice drifting away as she warms up, stretching and bending, “Because Aegon was so upset when you rejected him, but you’ve always been nice to me. I couldn’t find it in me.”

An airy smile graces her face, as if what she said wasn’t just insane for a multitude of reasons. She’s always been, as long as you’ve known her, in her own little world in a sense. Always sweet and kind, but in a space all her own. You remember Aegon’s words when he had brought you to the Targaryen estate for the first time: She is an enduring mystery, but I love her. This is, however, the most clear and direct you’ve ever heard her; and what she had to say enraged you. 

“I rejected him?” 

You cant help the rise in your voice, despite the few heads that turn towards your corner. You scoff. He really had the audacity to ghost not only his closest friendship but clearly the promise of something more, and say you had been the aggrieving party? Helaena doesn’t back down, but also doesn’t cower. For her, this is just a fact and not some life altering revelation. You envy her for that. 

Sara gently adjusts Helaena’s tank top strap for her, a gentle gesture you’ll have to call attention to when you’re more level headed. Helaena cocks her head to the side as she takes in your body language, your anger.

“Is that not what happened?”

“No!” You whisper shout, now trying not to have little gossips listen in. You throw your ankle up onto the barre and stretch your arm out the opposite direction. 

“Oh,” Helaena’s eyes widen as if this is now finally a revelation to her as well, “Thats why your name was a curse.”

What the fuck does that mean? You look at her, and she gazes back at you as if her words should have cleared something to up. Maybe to her, they did. Your eyes then dart to your sister behind her, and your sister’s eyes are wide, her brows furrowed. ‘Aegon?’ she mouths, her lips warping into a grimace. 

Your name as a curse, to whom? Aegon?

…. Larissa?

Your face relaxes, the realization washing over you in waves. You now assume you had been a curse on their entire relationship. The picture of you on his Instagram, was it taunting her? A mean spirited part of you hopes it was, an unjustified possession of Aegon in your mind. 

You pull your foot down, and bend to grab your phone from where you’d tossed it over your bag. 

You pull up Aegon’s instagram, something you’ve been doing at least once a day since Saturday morning. Swiping to his tagged photos, you find what you’re looking for. Hundreds of paparazzi and press photos of Aegon and Larissa, all of her vice grip clutching him, all of him looking like a less than sober flight risk. This paints a different picture than the one you’d been drawing up in your head. You’d known he fucked her in university. You’d known she was one of his regular rotation of girls he’d dabble with at the party house, one of the faces you’d accidentally barge in on in the bathroom fixing her make up after they’d hooked up. None of those girls liked you much because they thought you were competition for Aegon. While you thought that was stupid at the time, they were ultimately right, and you’d only realized when you were in too deep.

Your eyes find one thumbnail for an article saying that the Lannister’s pulled out of a partnership with the Targaryen’s corporate ventures after the split. Another piece to a puzzle that you hadn’t realized you were putting together until now. 

The instructor enters the room just as you open your mouth again, the moment to ask for clarification gone. Helaena offers a faltering smile as she straightens her back, getting herself into position as the instructor raises her arm. She calls you all to attention, more like an actual ballet instructor than for a posh girl barre class. Later, you think, It’ll have to wait until later 

The class goes by without a moments relaxation, going through the motions while internally you freak out about what all the little clues you’ve been given could possibly mean.

“Hey, wait up!” you call, even though the Targaryen woman looks like she’s not in a rush. You yank on your joggers, holding out a hand to tell her to stop. Helaena turns quickly, as if she’s excited to talk to you again. She looks to Sara though, and you don’t miss the way your sister tries to cover her blushing with her dark hair. You’re not letting her get away with that, you decide. 

“Did you want to walk somewhere after this together?” the blonde asks sweetly, and you nod, finishing stuffing all of your belongings into your bag as you shove your feet into your shoes, and link arms with her and Sara to pull them out onto the street as a united front. 

The walk to the juice bar isn’t far, and the trip to your shop from there is even shorter. You pay for the juice, knowing you’re potentially about to interrogate Helaena and cockblock your sister from whatever it is going on with her. The sun beats down on you, despite the chill in the air, casting everything behind you into shadow. 

The shop is bright, a beacon of pattern and color that calls down the street. The fall decor is something you still have to plan with Sara, probably after hours re-dressing the mannequins and making tissue paper leaves the way your mother taught you during an arts and crafts day when you were kids. As the three of you walk, the conversation is meandering, friendly and full of nothing at all. 

It’s not until you lock the door of your shop behind the three of you that you decide to strike. 

“Oh, you own Lone Wolf! I’ve bought from your website-“

“Why am I a curse?”

You and the Targaryen both speak at the same time, a cacophony of sound. Shit. You’ve always had a history of running your mouth, and you know Helaena is soft spoken. As if you have to coax a wild creature, so too do you have to coax Helaena into conversation with you. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. Thank you!” you wince as you backtrack, but if she’s offended she doesn’t look it. 

“You’re fine, I promise.”

Helaena looks around the shop, inspecting all the intricacies of your decor choices, the way the colors of your house crest are put into the fine details to honor them, the way that your space is an eclectic blend of you everywhere, if not only the professional friendly version of you. There is a weight that does not seem to press on her as she inspects the details. Last you saw her, she was a very withdrawn girl, practically speaking in riddles unless she was alone with her brothers, and even then she was more a wallflower than an active participant. She’s still quiet and gentle, but finally, Helaena Targaryen has grown into it. 

Fuck, she’s a saint. You nod, and take a sip of your carrot juice.

“He said your name,” she reveals, and you fully turn towards her, pulling up a stool opposite to where she decides to drop herself onto the plush shop couch. 

“When?”

“So at the engagement party two weeks ago,” Helaena begins.

Fuck! This is really really recent. This is an actively open situation. Aegon contacting you was not as random in its timing as you had first assumed. 

“He gave this speech, and it was really not like Aegon. He’d been sober and brooding all day, I’d almost mistook him for Aemond.”

She pauses, as if trying to recall something. The Aegon you know was and is rarely sober. Not always drunk or high, but not what a normal person would consider sober. 

“The speech was weird for him too, it was very thoughtful,” she chuckles to herself, “and then instead of her name he said yours. He was looking down at his champagne the whole time. Everyone was pissed. Grandpa Otto even tried to get Mum to cut him off for that slip up but she stood up for him.” 

But was it a slip up? The timing of all of this, all of the evidence you’ve seen. You now think that despite all of your anger and heartache, maybe you shouldn’t have hung up on Aegon the other morning. Good on Alicent though, you think. Although her methods may sometimes seem insane, you cannot fault someone who had babies when she was a baby herself. Throughout college, she was on a sort of apology tour, trying to fix what her younger self and the people that had influenced her had broken when it came to her children.

Sara bursts into laughter the moment Helaena’s words sink in. 

“Oh I swear by the Old Gods and the New, that’s like something out of a movie. Really?” Sara’s laughter rings like a bell again as she plops herself down on the couch next to the blonde. If you didn’t know better, you’re already planning their wedding in your head. Helaena nods, joining in with Sara, and you find yourself laughing too. 

You smirk over the rim of your cup, and swipe up on the latest string of Aegon’s desperate texts that you haven’t replied to. 

Just how much of a curse are you? Is it like Heathcliff and his Cathy? A selfish part of you hopes that it’s been gnawing at him, hopes it’s eaten away at him and Larissa this whole time. A jealous part of you thinks it should have been you the whole time, thinks your life has been stolen from you despite all of the good things and successes you have. The part of you that you are trying to ignore hopes that despite everything he’s been well, and that maybe someone’s been looking out for him after he stopped letting you do the honors. 

Your Number: awright aeg. ill bite xx

[philtstone]

you’re actually making me want to watch psych…any tips/anything I should know going in?

another fallen soldier...

ok i will take this ask actually seriously

things 2 know:

it's early 2000s sherlock holmes, so it has cop stuff. shawn and gus are not cops but everyone else is. if u cant watch that without getting upset or frustrated then its not for you.

of its time (2006) so some of the jokes are outdated. its main characters are men & the other characters function as extensions and foils for their adventures, so while juliet is an amazing character and i absolutely love her, she is not a main character. most of her plots are experienced thru shawn's pov, because he is the main character. if you go in expecting differently, you will be disappointed

imo psychs most genuine L is its mental health language. again, if u take that to heart/will be upset by certain outdated terms, not for u

psych is a story about an honest liar. its easy to forget this, bc its a silly goofy show and shawn has very good intentions, but psych is all about duality and grey areas. going into it assuming that your main characters are morally pure, emotionally mature people will end in disappointment and frustration

while it is technically a dramedy, it is UNSERIOUS. really and truly. shawn basically has superpowers. he is not a real boy. many forget this.

its obviously made with so so much love. for this reason i tend to forgive it almost everything

tips for watching!

psych is long. i dont think i have ever watched it start to finish in full chronological order. because it has so many filler eps (murder mystery of the week basically!), you can skip around if you dont have patience for 8 full seasons of network tv. if you are worried about time sink or getting bored, i would start with the pilot, watch spellingg bee, then start skipping fillers and only watch the best episodes in your first watch. heres me and my brother's tier list for best episodes (to be clear, tier C is like. average good psych episode. everything above tier C ranges from very fun to iconic masterpiece):

hopefully thats legible and not totally useless lol. its also a subjective list, so others may not agree! id also definitely bring "forget me not", "poker? i barely know her!", "the greatest adventure in the history of basic cable", "daredevils", and "gus's dad may have killed an old guy" up into tier B ... i hadnt rewatched them properly when we made this list lol. all excellent eps.

anyway .... did i take this ask way too seriously? yes. dont ask me how i got here. i dont care to unpack it all

enjoy!

[scarlet--wiccan]

good afternoon in a avengers issue quicksilver was like Wanda is the only one who love me am I the only one who was bothered by that I mean what about Luna maximoff she adores him like my dude I love his character but he can be a bit of a you know what let’s keep this kid friendly he is a bit of a fart nugget I don’t like how marvel keep skipping over her anyway that is my opinion what do you think on it

Good afternoon! This is my inbox, not a private chat. If you have a question or are seeking any kind of information/critical analysis from me, I would really appreciate you making an effort to write legibly. I'm not saying this to be judgmental-- it's not a matter of language, it's just a matter of respect. Most people can do better than firing off a run-on stream of thought with no punctuation.

And if you want to ask me about a specific issue or incident, please cite the series title and issue number. There's no guarantee that I can know what comic you're talking about otherwise.The Avengers has been around for over 60 years-- "a avengers issue" tells me nothing.

I assume that you are asking about The Avengers (2023) #14, which is part of the Blood Hunt event. In it, Pietro has joined an ad hoc group of Avengers to take down the vampires attacking New York City, but his main goal is to rescue Wanda, who has been taken captive by the vampire leaders. Each of the heroes in this issue are introduced with a brief inner monologue, and Pietro's describes how he's driven away most of the people in his life except for his sister, who, in Pietro's words, is the one person left who loves him.

The purpose of this scene is to introduce Pietro as a new character to the book, as it's his first appearance in this volume, and establish his primary motive-- rescuing Wanda-- along with relevant information about his background and personality. All of these elements come into play, and are given greater nuance, as the story progresses, but this is just the introduction. These are extremely common writing conventions.

Pietro's impatience, prickly attitude, and personal priorities create tension with his teammates, but those tensions are resolved when Pietro demonstrates that he can be patient and cooperative when he needs to be. He is not being a "fart nugget," as you so evocatively described him-- he's actually showing a lot of growth, while still maintaining core personalities traits that have been part of his character for 60 years.

As for Luna-- she's not being overlooked here, as she and Crystal are mentioned at the top of Pietro's monologue, where he indicates that he has driven them away. Again, this is a simplification, but it's not untrue-- Pietro and Crystal have been estranged for a long time, and while Luna does love her father, but I wouldn't say she adores him. You might have missed it, but there was a whole decade or so where their relationship was really rocky after Pietro stole Terrigen crystals and coerced Luna into undergoing unregulated Terrigenesis. He initially lied and blamed these actions on a Skrull shapeshifter, but because of her powers, Luna knew the truth. Pietro eventually came clean, and Luna did forgive him, but she has a much more cynical view of him now. Pietro doesn't have custody of Luna, and her appearance in Scarlet Witch was the first indication in years that that even see each other any more-- in 2018's Quicksilver: No Surrender, Pietro saves Luna from an energy monster while lamenting that they're basically strangers.

Luna was an important presence in the late-90s Quicksilver series, had big plotlines with Pietro in the wake of HoM, was a very present and active character in All-New X-Factor, and has had cameos in every Quicksilver or Scarlet Witch-titled series in the last six years. As far as children of divorce go in superhero comics, that's actually pretty good. If it feels like she's not getting enough page time, maybe it's because Pietro himself doesn't get as much page time as he should, on top of the fact that the Inhumans have been basically shelved since 2018.

[savoryscribbles]

*＊✿❀ handwriting headcanons w/ my favs ❀✿＊*

pairings:bokuto, suna, sakusa(seperatly) x gn!reader

tags: fluff, ranting, not super x reader but you're their partner.

warnings: they/them pronouns, probably a few curse words, lemme know if i should add anything!

word count: 396

a/n: a/n: pt 2 of my 300 follower series :d. i'll add the link when i'm finished with it! (i'm like half way to 500 rn but this is old! pls forgive me!). also these are short and sweet! kinda just wanted to post something!

haikyuu masterlist | general masterlist

bokuto:

messy.

it's practically illegible, but somehow he can always read it perfectly, even if he wrote it a year ago.

it's tilted, but not in one direction. for the love of god don't give this man plan copy paper to write on. one line will be tilted to the write and 5x smaller than the next line which is now tilted to the left.

ambidextrous, he didn't train himself or anything. in fact people consider him ambidextrous simply because his handwriting doesn't get any worse with whatever hand he writes with.

surprisingly decent at cursive, probably because there's a lot of extra loops in his regular handwriting anyways.

suna:

so messy omfg

you can't read it, he can't read it, no one can

don't ever let him write things down for you, it never works. you'll be like "what does this say?" and he just shrugs.

his signature is so sloppy too, lucky for him it doesn't have to be legible

sometimes he'll be cute and try and hand write text messages, particularly if he has an away game and can't call. he actually tries really hard to write neatly, but mans can write nice with a pen, how the hell does he expect himself to write with his finger? his teammates are like "suna you've spent 18 of our 20 minute break rewriting that damn message, hurry up!"

if atsumu is there, he will definitely record suna just rewriting it over and over again. sends it to you, but expects you to make fun of suna, but you find it endearing.

but you do still tease him about it, he gets all pouty though

sakusa

the only one that writes neatly out of the three

he writes in neat cursive, because i hc he comes from like a rich/well off family so they put him in english+cursive lessons

even if his handwriting is neat people still complain because its like cursive so its harder to read

he lowkey gets kinda insecure about it.

like atsumu told him about suna sending his s/o a handwritten message, and now he wants too, but hes worried you wont like it, or say something about his cursive D:

bokuto ends up being his hype man, and sending the message for him, because he's to scared to send it himself

he's very relived when you absolutly adore it :D

[ultragift]

FROM: @vidra-comprehends

TO: @gayrhys

Two robots stare at the old paper. It has legible words on it and is more or less intact compared to the other pages lying around, which the two have already checked. Despite the halcyon weather, V1 keeps it pinned under its foot while V2 reads it out loud.

To my dearest friend!

My fingers are swiftly losing their mobility as I am writing you this letter. Forgive me if it is not very pretty.

While you are scorched by the Sun, I am to suffer its eternal absence. Those around me still moving are banding together, trying to find warmth in the others’ presence, but our bodies only radiate more coldness.

From time to time, the Lake’s ice carries to us the echoes of a great scream. It is terrible, but not at all terrifying. Still, should I venture too close to the middle, I would surely witness something unfit for a human soul. The only other sounds are the heavy steps of souls and the singing ice.

Even as the Greatest Cold overtakes me, I stand by my decision; letting you continue would have been an even greater sin. I hope you will find it in yourself to acknowledge why it was necessary as I will likely never again have the ability to think like a capable man, and so, I could not change my mind even if I wanted to.

With no remorse nor disdain left to warm me-

V2 looks up to see V1 already walking towards the edge of the frozen lake. "You read quickly." V1's rusty speech box spits out a few words. "REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT.”

A strange sensation not unlike overheating registers to the red machine. How dares it? V2 wants to shake it by the shoulder and scream. His fury overpowers his common sense as he takes a few quick steps towards the blue machine, who - in the meantime - has started stomping on the thin ice by the shore.

"Irrelevant? What is wrong with you?! What is wrong with you in general?!"

A quick shot of its revolver makes him freeze in place. He is not at all sure that V1 missed on purpose. His steps are very careful as he catches up to it, but his voice is still full of anger. And condescendence. "You don't get to say that. They matter so much. Do you hear me? They matter! This letter meant something to someone. Hey, are you listening?"

V1 seems to be more invested in the chunks of ice it managed to free.

"Seriously, even after everything we've witnessed on our way down here...? Don't you see? There is so much harm...or there used to be so much harm in the world. No. There still is. These souls are suffering. And the best we could do was k-" An inexplicable error in the speech software. V2 doesn't start again, but he is unable to take the pain out of his voice. "We were built to protect them, you know."

V1 finally looks up, but it simply points a cold finger at V2. Of course. He was built to protect.

"Why did you repair me?" It was built to kill.

The V models are incapable of shrugging, but V1 does something similar enough. "DAMAGED." "Hm? What do you mean?"

V1 is clearly not comfortable speaking, but V2 has to know. He has to know the truth if they are going to end here. Or at least one of them will. This layer welcomed those who were willing to go to any lengths for a little personal victory. "REPAIR PROTOCOL. FAILED TO...SEPARATE."

V2 thinks for a few seconds. "Did you believe you were repairing yourself?" This wins him a thumbs up.

It was like tying a tie on someone else for the first time. The blue machine knew how to work on itself, but when the protocol kicked in under the pyramid in Greed, it found that the body is seen from an irregular angle. In the end, V1 resorted to holding the other machine to its chest to be able to work properly.

"But you know now that I'm not you, right?" Another thumbs up. V2 doesn't force the conversation further. He focuses on the ice instead. The written pages scattered all over the area don’t stop at the shore, partly or fully frozen like semi-aquatic plants during a harsh winter. The hole V1 made is rapidly freezing up, but something is still clearly visible at the bottom.

“Did you have a chance to see what that is?” Instead of an answer, V1 gives the fresh ice a good kick, splashing water all over the place.

“Hey, watch out! This can damage both of us! Especially your absorbent plating. It would be smarter to- What is that? Is that a fishing rod?! Where the Hell did you get that?” Its hands occupied, V1 nods. “What?!”

The thing they saw at the bottom is soon reeled to the surface. It is a book. Unfortunately, it immediately freezes as it is removed from the water; there’s no chance of opening it without destroying the paper. V1 doesn’t seem satisfied until it brings up half a dozen books, all acting the same way. It doesn’t give V2 much time to consider any implications or greater meaning the scene might have, heading deeper towards the middle.

“We should prepare for that fight thoroughly,” V2 warns. His predecessor doesn’t react. Its steps are light and it gently swings the fishing rod from side to side as it walks. Not for the first time today, V2 feels very lost. “If you’re not going to fight... What are you even looking for?”

Speech has never been so easy for V1 as it is in this moment. “FISH.”

[hitsuzenhusbands]

hey! i hope you're having a good day! i just read your (amazing!) asoue fic "ashes to ashes," and i was fascinated by the way you portrayed kit and olaf. i thought i'd send this ask because i'd really love to hear more of your thoughts on their dynamic if you feel like sharing? but if you don't feel like expanding on it, i totally understand! thank you so much for sharing your beautiful work on ao3!

OHH anon you are so kind...i apologize for being so extremely late but i just finished writing a little analysis so i figured now's about the right time to write a semi-legible response. might have been scary and incomprehensible otherwise. but i am finally here to scream and cry and thank you so desperately because im SO happy you enjoyed them AND decided to ask for more info! <3

to begin, i'd be absolutely inconsolable if i didn't point you towards @virginian-wolfsnake's fic the eye of the storm, probably one of my fave k&o fics of all time that delves into the meat of their relationship through the years from the perspective of kit. they're young and still excited by missions and flirty and tender and genuine, and, in time, when the rest of their world collapses, so do they--messy and tense and so wonderfully realistic you have to read it and then read it again. honestly, if you don't want to read the rest of this but still want an answer, just read that. but also read it anyway

and now i have to ask you to forgive me...i have not read the books in a very long time and while i know the netflix series (in comparison) is bad and awful and terrible, i have watched it a million times. so if i'm wrong on anything. that's why.

to begin, the version of olaf i depicted in my fic is at the height of his...how do you say...pathetic misery. not including the spiral he has during the series. to me, the death of his parents are the beginning of his downfall into something-like-insanity, but he's still (and will continue to be) recognizably himself, if that makes sense. he's always been messy and emotional and dramatic (see the line: "...Kit has seen him in worse states and with a much better view..."), but only now does he reveal not a different side of himself per se, but a different angle of one that already existed.

im a fervent believer that olaf's always been a little self destructive and a lot crazy. hes spent the greater half of his life coming to terms with the fact that he is intrinsically not as noble as the rest of vfd--hes impulsive and obnoxious and self-obsessed, barely even literate at times--and it takes a special kind of guy to carve the insignia of the organization full of people he despises into his own front door. still, his parents' death was a catalyst, meaning he wasn't entirely opposed to vfd beforehand. he probably liked the missions and the secrecy and the dramatics, obviously the disguises and everything, but i think before the night at the opera it was really just a source of fun for him. he never truly grasped the reality of it, the nature of his actions and the weight of his involvement. whether that was out of naivety or pure neglect of the facts is up for debate. (there's a little bit of this in the shattering of thalia and melpomene if that interests you at all, beloved anon. see the line: "...[Esme] could never compare to the extent to which [Olaf] removes himself from everyone else entirely. How he spends so much time worrying about himself he almost forgets to worry about himself...Esme could never truly get lost in her own greatness. Could never turn a blind eye to the inner workings of V.F.D.")

kit, on the other hand, definitely did. serving as a volunteer was her purpose, the sole thing she had to cling to. she dedicated her life to it, making conscious decisions to go against her moral code in the hope that it all truly was for a greater good. i think, at times, she could fall into her own little fits of self-destruction, putting vfd above herself entirely (see the line: "This wouldn’t be the first time she’d done something she would never truly volunteer for...he’d still spent year after year watching her run off...to do something she could never speak of." "...she still returned with clenched teeth and knit eyebrows, as though she had no choice in the matter at all.")

to avoid any more convolution, in my mind it goes something like this: both are volunteers--olaf born and raised (along with beatrice), kit torn from her family and thrust into the thick of it so early on its all she knows. they grow up, probably-definitely know each other but dont know each other until, say, late teens-early twenties?

up until then, they've been everything previously described, but intermingling with one another changes this. olaf's easygoing approach rubs off on kit, partly because she finds more joy in his company than in missions, partly because he makes every attempt to keep her from leaving. i like to think she tries to keep his relatively flimsy moral code in check, or at the very least restrain his temper to the best of her abilities.

to me, they're a simultaneously great and terrible couple. at their best, they counteract each other in a positive way as described above and serve as a welcome distraction from the realities of a crumbling vfd, a little island of tenderness and domesticity in the ocean of turmoil that surrounds them.

and at their worst, their personalities combat so violently it's hard to see how they ever could have been together. olaf deals out the worst of it, prone to neglect and self-isolation, a deeply inset refusal to discuss anything with her, an inclination towards firestarting and an increasingly poor reputation with everyone kit knows. then again, kit isn't free of blame (if you can call it that), she's just as opposed to talking anything out as he is, and her isolation takes on the shape of running off to do as many missions as as she can before she's dead on her feet. she's pulled in different directions--a well-instilled hatred towards firestarers, only further influenced by whatever rumours olaf's growing list of enemies supplies her, versus her love for him, her knowledge of who he really is, a concept that is often tested. (see the line: "He’s reminded of a fight they once had, about something or other, that ended in her angry admission that it was easier to be upset with him when he wasn’t nearby.") 

anyway, the idea is they grow further and further apart both ideologically and physically/relationship-wise until the opera night and the crash following that (see: the whole fic!) and from then on i think they fall into something like an evil situationship. they barely see each other, complete opposite sides of the schism. i say situationship because i think when they do see each other (on missions, at events/in public, in private, etc.) it is just a terrible experience no matter what. they're both torn between hating the other for what they know about them/what they did (i like to think olaf finds out about kit supplying the darts) and reminiscing/yearning for what they once had.

for the sake of this i wont give my thoughts on whose baby kit has because that's a whole other thing (not really. its just more of a fun hc i think about on occasion as opposed to something concrete in canon or even my version of canon) but their scene in the end does make me insane. its a culmination of all the time spent wishing what happened didnt happen, almost as though theyre seeing each other for the first time once again, perhaps not blind to the past but looking away for (on olafs part) one final moment of normalcy.

i hope thats what you were looking for to any degree, anon. im a little rusty on my lore but they matter to me soo much. if i have to leave this on anything, its go read eye of the storm. kitlaf fic of all time.

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite Ep 10 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Kawi and Pisaeng started dating and Not immediately ruined it by making everything about him as always. Not outs them repeatedly and tries to use it as an in with Pear. He breaks things off with Kwan, who genuinely likes him, and gets his ass handed to him by Pear. Meanwhile, Kawi is spiraling that once again his mistakes are causing problems for others, and Pisaeng pushes Kawi to try to see life more optimistically and just try to take care of each other. Pear is having her own problems as she reckons with her mom finding success as an artist after leaving her family to pursue that art.

Hopefully we get Max back this week.

Love us coming back to Kawi and Pisaeng affirming their connection and Pear affirming that she and Not do NOT have one.

YES, MISS PEAR! COME THROUGH, SIS! She said, “Kwan is my friend and you are a dick. DICK IS ABUNDANT AND LOW IN VALUE!”

I want to say here that while I absolutely despise Not, I think Title is giving a great performance in this role. He’s very good at playing disaffected man who is also the source of his own problems.

Okay, this boy just put hands on Kwan. Let’s stomp his ass.

I’m with the dad on “The more you forgive, the stronger you get.” It’s so easy to burn yourself out in righteous rage. I was there for a long time early in the BLM movement, and all I succeeded in doing was giving myself a bunch of a stress-related health issues. The work I do now is about uplifting now and less about fighting. We talked about this on @the-conversation-pod in The Eighth Sense about how forgiveness isn’t about admitting the other party is right. It’s about accepting what happened, determining the boundaries you need to establish for the future, and then focusing on what’s important to you. Holding resentment traps you in the moment you were last offended. You become a living ghost.

Oh interesting. Kawi is reading Crazy Rich Asians.

They are crushing me with the fathers today. I’m going to need Tom Phollawat and Kob Songsit to get off my neck. In all seriousness, Kob is clearly ridiculously talented. Krist is responding to his emotions better than he has with anyone else in the series.

There is something so poignant about Kawi doing everything he could to try to save his dad, still losing him, but getting closure this time because he was able to say goodbye to his father before the surgery. I’m trying not to cry right now.

I love that the first people we see Pear interacting with after that talk with her dad are Pisaeng and Kawi. Love that she made sure to clear up any angst between them. It’s beautiful because the show says she has a right to be disappointed about how things went even as she commits to maintaining two important friendships. These boys are throwing themselves before Pear about who should be castigated more and I love that.

Yes, now that Pear has affirmed her support for gay love, let’s go hang out with the gays. Welcome back, Max. I’ve missed you. You look amazing as always. Love these boots.

I love Max. He’s correct. Just because we know what’s going on doesn’t mean we also don’t need to be told. Up until we’re told, we technically just suspect. Kawi is lucky to have community.

Before I engage with Pisaeng’s mom’s latest form of gaslighting, I need to know what show they’re watching on this projector in the background.

Sowing doubt into your son’s first real relationship is so cruel. Pisaeng knows exactly what she’s doing, and Gawin is playing his hurt and offense completely legibly.

I’m really loving the theme in this show that there is a difference between avoiding misery and finding happiness.

I do love seeing folks figure out the early parts of their relationships. Kawi doesn’t like Pisaeng avoiding his problems with his mom around him, especially when Pisaeng came to him for comfort. Now we get to see these two sort out how intimacy is going to work for them.

I’m never going to complain about parents turning things around and choosing to support their kids, but I don’t think I like Pisaeng faking a conflict with his mom in the hopes that Kawi will be intimate with him.

The mom’s smile is giving Gates McFadden at the end of Make the Yuletide Gay (2009).

I’m really enjoying the way Gawin plays Pisaeng as flirty or cheeky.

I’m obsessed with Max wearing this big black jacket but having these shorts He has such long legs that the juxtaposition fees intentional.

The Ace Friend and Gay Slut duo is undefeated. Kawi being on the ace spectrum doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure people are going to chide Max for how he spoke to Kawi, but I get Max. He’s a sexual being and it’s clear that some of his experiences weren’t great. There are things to unpack there. However, this show is about accepting people as they are and understanding where they’re coming from. We’re not aiming for perfection. We’re aiming for honesty and kindness. Kawi does need to consider the needs of his partner if he’s going to be in a long term relationship with someone who isn’t on the spectrum like him.

Oh, Kawi. Don’t pretend to sleep.

For a moment I really wondered if the snow globe would transport Pisaeng, but he’s already rejected magical help for his problems.

I’m really hoping this show does something interesting with the asymmetric sexual desire between Kawi and Pisaeng. We were here before during SOTUS and it’s hard not to recall that.

The amusement park thing is not subtle, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Kawi has always wanted to visit a place full of excitement and thrill, but is here just to soak in the vibes and eat food. Pisaeng isn’t on that wavelength and is a bit frustrated.

Okay, so the preview seems to indicate that Pisaeng maybe did time travel. Unsure about how we went from a kinda botched date to their first sober kiss and implied first time.

I’m not sure where I sit on the sex stuff this episode. I think I’m going to leave myself in this moment of uncertainty until next week to see what we learn about Pisaeng’s potential time jump, and Kawi’s follow up on Max urging him to consider the role of sex and intimacy in romance.

[blackjackkent]

The Hag Survivors Support Group building is locked, and there's a note in the mailbox:

The door's not hard to pick, so in we go.

Hector immediately perception-checks a note on the table inside.

Hm. I think we missed the meeting. Although apparently they pissed off a hag themselves, so maybe that's a good thing.

The only other things in the building are a number of leftover flyers and a "Barely-Legible Letter":

Old Garlow's, it seems, is not far off - just on the other side of the central wall, so we'll just wander straight over there while it's on our minds. Cos based on our experience with Ethel, if these people have pissed off a hag, they're gonna need our help.

The building has definitely seen better days; there's a note in the mailbox indicating it's been condemned. In we go once again.

("Nothing but DOOM AND GLOOM in the Gazette since Gortash died!" complains a woman wandering by while we pick the lock. Well, ma'am, get ready for the front page story about THE CUTEST CAT YOU'VE EVER SEEN when it comes out tomorrow. It's gonna knock your socks off.)

Stepping inside the building, we can immediately hear some members of the support group on the ground floor talking... and a very ominous giggling laugh from upstairs.

The woman at the head of the group - a cleric of Helm, based on her ambient dialogue - immediately rounds on Hector and his companions as they approach. "An intruder?" she snaps. "These people are under my protection. I'll not let you harm them! Hearken to my words, wicked creature. Return to the pit of evil from whence you came!"

The dragonborn in the back has the wildest head design and I love it. So round and smooth!

Oh, shit, no, we're not the hag, calm down.

Hector IMMEDIATELY likes this woman. :D

"Calm down! I seek no trouble!" he says, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.

"Don't listen! Who knows what spells it weaves around us! Quickly, cleric!"

"Helm! Protecter of all! Grant me the power to ignite this creature's flesh and burn its bones to ash! Begone, monster, your hag mother holds no power here!"

Oh, she's fantastic. Can we bring her with us?

[CLERIC][PERSUASION] "Wait--" Hector says hastily. "I'm no hagspawn - I'm a faithful adherent, just like you."

"Wait - no hagspawn would speak like that." The woman's shoulders relax and her hand falls back to her side; she looks visibly relieved. "Forgive the paranoia. We're being hunted by a vile and wicked hag. We feared you her minion. She's already hexed one of us - and any of us could be next."

(A/N: Jaheira looks SO SHORT compared to the party of behemoths she's traveling with. XD )

"I've fought a hag before," Hector says gravely. "No easy task."

It's odd to think back on that time, so early in their adventures. He was much more afraid then, he reflects absently. He was a different man. He's still afraid now, of course, but of much bigger, much more terrifying things. Ethel feels like a distant memory, a monster fought in a dream.

Hope flashes through the young woman's eyes. "Really? You should join us, then. You see, all of us here have fallen victim to a hag's vicious ways. But instead of succumbing to despair, we rose above it. Thanks to Mayrina, our leader. Together, we've been helping others who've suffered at the claws of a hag. Only... Mayrina's been hexed by the very hag who now hunts us."

Oh, no way. :O

"Mayrina?" Hector says, startled. "I know her! She was captured by Auntie Ethel!"

"You're the one that saved her? The one that ventured to the depths of Ethel's lair?" The cleric looks him up and down in puzzlement. "I can hardly believe it. You look so... normal."

(A/N: That's one of the nicest comments on his appearance that Hector has ever received tbh.)

She gestures towards the building's stairs. "By Helm, perhaps there is hope. If anyone can help Mayrina, it's you. She's upstairs... but be warned, she's not as you remember her."

...Well, that sounds ominous. HECTOR TO THE RESCUE!

[nottakingresponsibility]

*A note is slipped under the door. The handwriting is very messy, like whoever wrote it was struggling to hold the pen properly. The paper is weirdly cold, unnaturally so. Parts of the note have been hastily crossed out, but they're still basically legible.*

"Hey, Jimmy,

I've done some thinking and remembered some things.

I remember a birthday party. Or was it? The party was for me, but I don't think it was actually my birthday. It was definitely a surprise party, in any case. There was a shitty cake. There was bad news. There was...

Well, it fades out after that.

I remember a searing hot rage burning just beneath the surface and doing my damnedest to pretend that it was anything else. Whose rage even was it? Yours or mine? I can't tell.

I remember being force-fed. Vomiting. Force-fed again. A hand scraping against the inside of my throat. Choking and struggling, but not being able to escape.

Twenty years or more of nothing but pain and ice. Barely conscious. At some point in the first year or two of being frozen, I died. Nobody was going to rescue me anyway.

But I didn't stay dead, and I didn't stay human.

I remember other things, too. I remember being in a classroom, dozing off, and feeling someone drape their jacket over my shoulders, and that jacket having the familiar scent of cigarettes. Small moments of warmth and comfort that, while they don't erase the hurt, ease the pain and speak to the desperate situation we were all in.

I want to make it clear that I don't think you are the exact same as the version of you that I'm remembering. You are your own Jimmy. In a lot of ways, you're different than the Jimmy I knew. Better, even. I want to make it clear that I don't blame you. It wasn't you, not the you who's reading this right now.

The feelings I have about my Jimmy are complicated, and I'm obviously still processing them. I won't burden you with all that. But, just in case you have any worries about it, I do forgive him, and I would give him another chance.

I can't talk right now. I need some space. I will be back, though.

G Cur Gabe"

*There's... something drawn at the bottom of the page, but it's too smudged to be recognizable.*

He picked up the note, it was cold. He chose to ignore that. He held it steady in his hands, starting to read along the long message. Several emotions went through his head. He wouldn't let them show on his face.

At some point while reading, it became hard to even hold the paper, causing him to grip it unnaturally tight. He wasn't angry. Or was he? He couldn't tell. What was he angry at? He wasn't angry at Gabriel, he never could be. The problem of having several versions of people, is shit like this. It made him feel sick. His chest felt tight. Was this guilt? Fear? He couldn't fucking tell. He had several doubts about his humanity, all the time. He could never get his emotions quite right. Gabe clearly remembered a lot more in such a short time span than Jimmy was ever expecting. He was shaking. Not like this. Not like this. He couldn't let it end like this. Would Gabriel ever be able to properly talk to him again? What was he gonna do about that stupid fucking voice that knocked against his skull in his weakest moments? God. It hurt. And he wasn't even the one at fault. He wanted to apologize for something he didn't even do. He wanted to reassure himself? Gabriel? Somebody. That everything was okay. He set the note aside, his hands balling up to the point they hurt. He couldn't even bring himself to look at it anymore. The drawing that he couldn't even see properly cause it was so damn smudged. He'll be back. Of course he will. He said so. But what if he's lying. What if he leaves him for good. ...Everything that was scribbled out, every little word he thought about, scribbled or not, made him feel nauseous. It was getting hard to stand. His emotions were all over the place. Unstable, as always. He needed to fix this. He needed to get himself in check. What could possibly do that? He's seriously debating breaking the no smoking rule. He knew it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault specifically. But, he still felt the need to say something, even if it'll forever remain unheard. "...I'm so fucking sorry." It strained his voice to say. His throat felt dry, he felt uncomfortable in his own body, in his own face. It didn't feel right, it never would now. How was he ever meant to process this? All he could do was grasp desperately at the small moments of comfort that were noted down on the paper. Hoping, someday, somehow, in some damn world, Gabriel doesn't have this fate. It was so much to take in, after all. He would never be able to forget. It was much too similar to his nightmares, his hallucinations, everything. It was way too fucking similar. He needed his own time to think.

[rottingmanifesto]

16 or 36 for anything you feel like writing currently! :D

Trying out some different formats. Hope it’s legible. Fair warning that I got way too carried away with ‘total control’, so it’s under a cut.

16. in dreams

Journal, Lincoln, 1st person.

Keep havin’ weird dreams. Can’t explain them very well, all I know is I keep scaring the hell outta a few of the guys when I jolt up. Davis suggested I see the Chaplain ‘bout it. Pretty sure it’s not demons, so unless he’s got holy-water-melatonin, I don’t think he can help.

One of the dreams is about Danny and Nicki arguin’ over their old man’s body. Cancer or poisoning or something of the like. Not sure why I’m there at all, I just am. Both keep beggin’ me for an answer. I can’t. Someone’s cut out my tongue and noises don’t help. He’s dead, they’re arguing, I can’t do anythin’.

Father said something offhandedly in a letter about my nightmares being chronic. Happened when I was a kid, stopped for whatever reason, an’ now they’re back. Never told him I was having any, but that’s Father for you. He jus’ knows things. Didn’t tell Sammy or Ellis though, both seem to think I’m fine. Not sayin’ I’m not. Just don’t think it’s worth tellin’ them, worryin’ them over stupid shit like dreams. Got bigger issues than that.

36. total control

Script-ish, John and Connor, 3rd person.

J: You were supposed to die.

A: Yeah, firing squad. I remember. Hard to forget.

J: Would’ve preferred a hanging, actually.

A: Didn’t know the United States still used that method.

J: I’m sure they’d make an exception.

A: (mild discomforting laugh) Of course they would.

J: (faltering, lowering gun, searching for words)

A: Maybe you should set the gun down. Your hand’s twitching. Don’t want a misfire.

J: Shut the fuck up.

A: What, I can’t look out for you? What happens if you twitch and kill that friend of yours out there?

J: Don’t bring him into this.

A: Lincoln, right? Hear he’s taking after you very well. Brazen and theatrical.

J: Yes, because you’re a master at subtlety.

A: Comes with the job.

J: Jesus Chr—a fucking warhead isn’t subtle.

A: Neither is hanging a man from a Ferris wheel. Or, you know, (signaling to cheek with J’s given-cigarette) this.

J: That was self-defense.

A: Sure. Of course.

J: Can you just go one fucking sentence without being an asshole, or is that above you?

A: Give me a reason to, and I will.

J: I have a gun and you don’t.

A: That’s not enough, Johnny, and you know that.

J: Don’t call me that.

A: Sorry, I’m delirious from the blood loss. I thought you were that kid I helped so many years ago. He looked an awful lot like you, too. (painful cough, takes a drag to cover up whatever expression he has on his face) Forgive me, Mr. Donovan.

J: You know, I used to believe in you back then. (voice breaks, begins to pace, having his back to A) Thought you represented everything great about this country.

A: Don’t I still?

J: You don’t. You’re just as fucking greedy and selfish as everyone else. (wheels around to face A, pointing a quivering gun between his eyes)

A: Exactly. That’s the real America. The one that doesn’t care about drafted soldiers drowning in mud, or those who come back seeing shit and knowing they fundamentally aren’t right anymore. The one that doesn’t care about people like your friend out there. The one that would sooner hang you for being a homosexual than me for being a so-called “traitor”.

J: So you’re justified with selling a goddamn nuke, is that what you’re saying?

A: (still fucking smiling) Your comprehension has improved some. Congratulations.

J: (crouches down to be eye-level) So the money was just to sweeten the deal, huh? To ease your conscious— (he presses his hand into A’s wound as harshly as possible, causing A to jolt in pain)— when innocent people inevitably fucking die?

A: We both know I won’t be the last person to do so. If it isn’t the NVA, it’ll be someone else. It’ll keep going until the United States is destroyed.

J: (begins to pace again, silent, blinking hard to avoid tears)

A: I was going to end it, John. I was going to make everyone free from this bullshit. Including you. Including your friend. Including everyone else who is subject to America’s tyranny. I was going to do what you’re too cowardly to do! I was going to end it all!

J: (whips around sharply) Are you finished?

A: (panting, out of energy, the pain finally overcoming the adrenaline and pride, he realizes he’s no longer in total control.)

A: It appears so.

[bazzybelle]

You Got Me Tripping on Sunshine - 3K - Teen - Calliope/Johanna Constantine

For Sandman FemSlash Weekend - Day 2: Meet-Cute

Yay! Another Fic done for the @sandmanfemslashfans !

The couple I've chosen to write for this time are Calliope and Johanna! Another popular Sandman couple!

This is completely unbetaed and was done in a bit of a rush... So forgive any errors on my part. I did the best I could to make it as neat and legible as possible.

The title of the fic was inspired by the song "Running on Sunshine" by Jesus Jackson.

You can read the story by clicking the link, or by clicking the Keep Reading bar below.

Click here for the Story on AO3

Johanna Constantine is not a wedding person. She never was. Not when she was a young girl, and her grandmother insisted she dress up in pretty pink clothes because so-and-so’s aunt or other was getting hitched and the Constantine family was always expected to be there. 

No matter that the family had fallen on hard times ever since great-great-great grandfather Stephan made several unwise investments during the early 1800s. Johanna, even then, was wise enough to understand that weddings were only useful as a way for snobby fucks to prance about, gossiping and criticizing. 

“Auntie Jo?”

Johanna glances to her right, and sees the main reason she’s even here. Well, and the fact that one of the grooms is her best friend (despite her repeated attempts to dissuade the man from associating with her), and the father of the child currently tugging on her deep navy pantsuit (the only way she’d even agreed to being Hob’s Mate of Honour was if she could wear a pantsuit). She had to yell at Hob to allow her to make sure Robyn was taken care of so that he could enjoy the day with his husband. Hob had wanted to keep Robyn with him all day, which would not have been fun for either of them. 

Plus she loves spending time with her unofficial godchild. They’re one of the few children Johanna can stand being around for more than 5 minutes. 

Little Robyn is beaming up at her, also dressed in dark navy, they’ve chosen to wear a long, elegant dress. Their long, brown hair is done in curls with several blue and white flowers pinned around the crown of their head. Ever since they’ve started wearing dresses and keeping their hair long, it’s like Robyn’s a new child. They’re smiling more and laughing and so incredibly affectionate. 

“Yes, my darling?” she responds, bending down to her favourite nibling.

“Are Daddy and Papa finished yet? I’m hungry.”

Unsurprising. She and the rest of the wedding party (by that, just Morpheus’ sister, Teleute) were done with their photographs hours ago. She had stuck around and waited while Robyn and Morpheus’ son took some pictures with the love-struck couple. It was all very sweet and wholesome, and if Johanna was the same person she was five years ago, she would have gagged at the display. 

But she isn’t, and she blames Hob and Robyn for that. She’d initially met Hob through her good friend, Eleanor. She’d fallen in love with this ridiculous, dork of a man, but he was kind and had a good heart. It didn’t take long for Jo to accept Hob into her very miniscule circle of friends. Her circle only grew with the addition of Robyn, and the promise of a new baby when Eleanor got pregnant a second time. 

Or, at least it should have grown. But pregnancy is rough and complications happen and—

Hob was a mess when he lost Eleanor. Robyn was a screaming toddler, crying for his mummy, and Hob didn’t know what to do. So Jo pitched in, and made sure they had an extra set of hands. Hob will always tell her that she’d saved them, but the truth is, they saved her. If she’d been left to her own devices after El died, she would have ended up dead drunk in some alley. 

Eventually Hob and Robyn learned to find peace in each other, and it wasn’t too long afterwards that Hob found love again. Jo was the first person he told when he first met Morpheus, and then when he asked him out, and once more when he was thinking about proposing. 

And so, her circle of influence threatened to expand even more with the inclusion of Morpheus and his own child. 

Which leads to today, and a hungry six year old. Lord knows with Hob and Morpheus, they might have snuck away from their photographers for some privacy. God, she hopes not. Like Robyn, she’s also getting rather hungry, and the hor d’oeuvres aren’t very filling. She has half a mind to sneak into the New Inn’s kitchen and grab some food for herself. 

Now there was an idea. If anyone asks, she could say that she’s just making sure the groom’s child is being taken care of properly. And part of her duty is to make sure Robyn’s well fed. 

(And if that meant she’d have to sneak in a few bites of food herself, well who was she to say no to that?)

“We can’t have that, now can we? D’you think your daddy will mind if we pop back into the kitchens to see if the caterers will give us a bite?”

“Daddy says I can’t go back there without an adult. He says it’s dangerous.”

“Oi, and what am I, chopped liver? I’m plenty adult, thank you very much.” Johanna takes their small hand in hers. Robyn giggles, leading Johanna through the small crowd of people already gathered at The New Inn, waiting for the happily married couple to arrive. 

“Where’s your partner in crime?” 

Robyn shrugs, “Orpheus is probably with his mamma.” 

Oh yes, Jo had heard a lot about the mysterious former Mrs. Athanasiou (although apparently since the divorce, she’d gone back to her maiden name). She’d never met the woman, but from what Hob had told her, she was one of those pretty, delicate little things that came from a long line of wealth and prestige. The type of person that Hob’s posh husband would have gotten saddled with. 

Was she being slightly unfair? Probably. Hob hadn’t explicitly used the words “pretty, delicate little thing” to describe her, but he did say she came from a posh family and was pretty well off. 

The rest came from Johanna’s own assumptions. 

And from doing a background check on the woman. Look, it was her job as Robyn’s auntie and unofficial godmother to make sure that the people in his life were not of the shady sort (and she loves Hob, but the man can be far too trusting of other humans). She did one on Morpheus when Hob first told her about him. Not that she really needed to. As soon as she heard the Athanasiou last name, she knew exactly who he was. That family was well known to her grandmamma, and she spoke of them often. The third born, Morpheus, was a famous composer and songwriter back in Greece. With money like that family had, he could afford to do whatever he wished. 

As for Calliope, she was another child of some powerful Greek family, who became a well known singer. One who preferred to perform Morpheus’ compositions. Apparently the two had been a power couple back in Greece, until the birth of their son. Johanna hadn’t bothered to read about the messy divorce. It frankly wasn’t any of her business. 

She did meet Morpheus’ son, Orpheus (interesting name for a child, if you asked her). He’s a very sweet child, even if he’s got the air of someone raised by an extremely well-to-do family. Not that he was spoiled, but as young as he was, Johanna got the sense that he knew that he was meant for some wild destiny. She understood how that felt, being a Constantine. 

A few of the caterers know Robyn as soon as they step inside the kitchen and are all too excited to give them some food. Robyn, like the Gadling they are, makes sure that Johanna gets some food as well. It isn’t much, a few pieces of chicken souvlaki, and some pita bread. Just enough to tide the two of them over until the grooms arrive. 

Robyn’s hair is starting to become a little undone from the excitement so far. The flowers are becoming loose, and the thin braided crown around their head is starting to look messy. She imagines a bunch of Hob’s other friends and co-workers have all been giving Robyn hugs and cooing over how lovely they look. Johanna did the best she could with Robyn’s hair that morning, but she isn’t really good at this sort of thing. Maybe they should sneak back upstairs to the flat Hob shares with Dream to see if she can salvage anything. 

Then again, is it really worth it with a rambunctious six year old? 

“Robyn! There you are!”

It seems that the elusive Orpheus has found his way to the kitchen. Johanna smiles and waves to Robyn’s new step-brother. Robyn runs to Orpheus and the two children wrap their arms tight around each other. It’s nice, Johanna thinks, that Robyn gets to have a sibling they deeply love. A sibling, according to Hob, who has already begun to defend Robyn’s choices in how they wish to present themselves. 

Clearly this child is better than most of the adults living in London. 

“Orpheus? Pou eisai, agapi mou? ” a woman calls out in Greek. Johanna’s knowledge of the language is non-existant, but she imagines this must be Calliope, asking after her son. 

“ Edo einai, mamma ” calls out Orpheus. 

A woman enters the kitchen, and greets the catering staff with a smile on her face. Now, Johanna has seen photos of Calliope Vandi in her research, but photos will never do someone justice when faced with the actual person. 

Calliope is, to put it in polite terms, bloody fucking gorgeous. She’s tall, and carries herself like a queen in her realm. Her long, chestnut hair is done up in elaborate braids that would make Daenerys Targaryan jealous. Strategic curls spill down her back, nearly covering her backless rose gold gown. 

Johanna quickly dusts herself off —no doubt having had crumbs spill onto her own suit— and tries to tidy herself as best as she can. She has always been a fucking disaster when it came to a pretty girl with a sweet smile. 

And Calliope has just that. She finds her son and gives a warm, kind smile to both him and Robyn. 

“Hello, Robyn,” she says, a musical lilt to her voice. 

Robyn smiles, and offers a tiny hand to Calliope. “Hello, Ms. Calliope. Ti kaneis? ” 

Calliope gasps, her smile growing. “Robyn, have you been learning Greek?”

Robyn beams at her. “Orpheus has been teaching me!” 

“Mamma, I’ve been teaching Robyn the alphabet and some phrases. They were so excited to show you.”

Calliope kneels down to Robyn’s level, her elegant dress carefully pooling around her. “Well, Robyn, your Greek is fantastic. And to answer your question, kala . How are you?”

Robyn blushes, tugging at their left ear (a habit they’ve acquired from their father no doubt). “ Kala ,” they say. 

“I am so happy to hear that.” Calliope gently brushes some of the hair off of Robyn’s face. “You look very lovely today. I love your dress, and your hair is very pretty.”

Robyn giggles, doing a little twirl to show off their fluffy dress. “Thank you. Auntie Jo did my hair, but she was complaining the whole time.”

“ Oi! Have some respect for your elders, you little bug.” Robyn laughs at the use of Johanna’s pet name for them. Little shit is what they are, calling her out in front of the beautiful lady. 

Weren’t adorable children supposed to help you look more attractive to other people? Leave it Hob’s kid to know exactly what to say to make Jo look like a complete idiot. 

Thankfully, Calliope doesn’t seem to take too much stock in what Robyn’s said. She stands up —ridiculously graceful, of fucking course— and approaches Johanna, slender hand held out. 

“You must be Ms. Constantine,” she says, embracing the name Constantine the way it was meant to be said, the Greek in her accent showing it all the love and care. 

“Johanna, please,” she says, taking Calliope’s hand and giving it a strong shake. She almost wants to lift it to her lips and plant a small kiss. 

And that makes her want to find the nearest bathroom in order to slap herself silly. 

For fuck’s sake, Jo. Don’t forget, she’s one of those high class posh sort . 

“It is lovely to meet you, Johanna. Orpheus has told me much about you.”

“Oh? Has he now?” Johanna looks over to Calliope’s shoulder to see Orpheus and Robyn in quiet discussion, sharing food between the two of them. 

“He has told me that you’ve taught him some rather interesting phrases for him to use.”

Crap . She was hoping that wasn’t what Orpheus had brought back to his mother. Then again, children do tend to hold onto curse words quicker than any other phrase, so she shouldn’t be surprised at all. 

There was an incident at a park several months ago. Jo had brought the kids to a nearby playground while Hob and Morpheus were doing some sort of important wedding planning nonsense. It was no big deal, but some of the other kids were giving Robyn a difficult time. Jo had gone to break things up before they got too heated, when some of the parents got involved, all too happy to tell Jo how wrong they thought Hob was to “indulge Robyn like this' ' and that he should make his kid “act normal' '. Jo was happy enough to ignore the stupidity and ignorance, and take the kids home. 

But then one of them brought up Eleanor, and said that Robyn was only the way they were because Eleanor wasn’t around. 

And Jo just lost it.

She didn’t remember exactly what her words were, but she definitely had several choice expletives she used. Of course Orpheus remembered each and every one and took them to his father. Morpheus, while happy that Jo had stood up for Robyn, was a little concerned that his son now knew phrases like “bigoted, useless prick” and that the “gormless nitwits” needed to “fuck right off”. 

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before remembering the makeup she’d spent nearly an hour putting on this morning. 

“ Fuck — No, I mean— Ah, piss it. Look, I’m sorry about that—”

Calliope lifts up a hand. “It is alright. Orpheus told me what had happened at the playground. How some of the older children were picking on Robyn, and how their ‘brave Auntie Jo’ yelled at the mean adults.” 

Jo scoffs. Well, that’s a relief. Good to know she won’t be barred from the Gadling-Athansiou household after today. She doesn’t regret anything she said (she rarely ever does), and would do it again and again. She doesn’t think she’s very brave. Being a decent person isn’t a brave thing to be. Loving a child unconditionally isn’t a brave thing to do. 

It’s one of the easiest things she’s ever done. 

“Yeah well, come after my little bug, and we’re going to have words.”

“We certainly have that in common. There is nothing I would not do for my Orpheus.” She glances at the two step-siblings giggling together, completely lost and innocent in the way that only children know how to be. “I think now, that includes Robyn too.” 

Calliope looks back to Johanna, and it’s at this moment where Johanna notices a fire in her eyes. For being a delicate, little thing, Calliope might be a whole lot tougher than she’d initially given her credit for. 

“I’ll gladly do the same for Orpheus, should the situation call for it.” 

“I am happy to hear that, Johanna.” She steps closer to her —a fresh scent of gardenia and bergamot surrounding her— and whispers conspiratorially in her ear “I’d even be happy to teach you some insults in Greek if you like. We have quite a colourful selection to choose  from.” 

Johanna turns to her, a smirk on her face, “Tough, pretty, and knows her way around a powerful curse. I like that in a woman.” 

Calliope smiles, reaching up to Jo’s suit jacket to adjust the collar slightly (bloody hell, she knew it was messed up). “Brave, strong, and knows her way around a powerful suit. I like that in a woman.”

Well , this wedding certainly got more interesting. Jo spares one last glance at Robyn and Orpheus, before leaning closer into Calliope’s space, her cheek just brushing hers. 

“You know, apparently there isn’t assigned seating,” Jo whispers softly in Calliope’s ear. 

Calliope’s eyes (Jesus, they’re pretty) (all big and brown and warm) brighten. “So I have heard.”

“Hmm. It would be silly to separate the little monsters, I think. They look so happy together, and there aren’t other kids around. They’d be so bored, otherwise.”

“That would be rather unnecessary, I think.”

“So, I propose, we all sit together. That way, we make sure Robyn and Orpheus aren’t separated,” Jo trails a pinky over Calliope’s thin wrist, a small move she does whenever she’s interested in someone. It’s important to start with slow, enticing movements, and not to rush too quickly into things. 

Calliope, it turns out, appreciates Jo’s flirtations, because she responds by dragging her thumb over her collarbone. “I believe that is an inspired idea, Johanna Constantine.”

Fuck , the way she says her name will have her ruined by the end of the night. Sassy, little minx that she is probably knows it too. 

“Auntie Jo!” Robyn calls out to her, interrupting what was clearly her laying down her A-Game (would Hob be upset with her if she called his spawn a cock-block) (what is the female equivalent anyway?) (She’s heard people use clam-jam and twat-swat, but even she has her filthy limits). 

“Yes, you impossible little demon?” she says. 

Robyn waves her mobile in the air (when the fuck did they swipe that from her?). “Daddy just texted you, and I’m not supposed to read your messages because you use too many swear words.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she mutters, to Calliope’s amusement. If Hob’s messaged her, it means the love birds are finally finished their photo session. Which means it’s time to wrangle the hell-spawns and get them seated and ready for supper. 

Johanna turns to Calliope and holds her arm out. 

“Well, shall we head out then?”

Calliope places her hand in the crook of Jo’s elbow, “I would love to.” They collect the children and head back into the inn, where the rest of the reception eagerly awaits the arrival of the happily married couple. 

Johanna Constantine is not a wedding person. She never was.  But, with a pretty woman on her arm and the promise of a night of shameless flirting, she could learn to be one.

[transmutationisms]

I apologize if there's something already on your blog about this and I didn't find it, but I was watching tailgate party and realized that Shiv had spent the entire episode pacing around one apartment complex 6000 steps over and that the Roys do this a lot.

My memory of the last few seasons is fuzzy (<- binged it before and now doesn't remember shit) but I feel like the Roys spend a lot of time in very large, usually open spaces, with wide walls and tall ceilings, and usually ones we've seen before or are expected to see again and that a lot of important scenes happen *outside* of these spaces. Important meaning either big moments or iconic ones or sometimes just transitonary. Kendall had his Next-Jesus moment out in the ocean, Tom started throwing water bottles in that cramped ass escape room or talked about his marriage out on the beach, the entirety of Kill List happens outside of ATN offices, Logan meets Mattson for the first time on a personal island, Roman went to a random one story office environment for a fucking business school and was never the same character (well. compared to S1 Roman) again, they have that reverse Jesus thing over cruises on a cruise ship, etc. I feel like plane scenes could both fit into this or break it depending on the season but at least for other scenes I feel like there's a pattern here.

Outdoor spaces or parts where they actually put their shoes outside onto sidewalk always feel semi important to me but it doesn't even have to be outdoors specifically. Like, even just the honeymoon suite was different enough from every other building we'd seen the show have, and that's when Shiv admitted to cheating!

Do you think there's something to this, or do you have your own thoughts? I'd be interested to hear more if only to appeal to my ego ;-). There's other things that could connect to this like the grey-white-brown-dark blue color palette damn near every scene is in vs. scenes with real color inside of them and Kendall's asking why Sophie was "on the street" being indicative of how he thinks she should be raised (based on how he was raised and also how he can recognize the manipulation and abusive inherent to his father's parenting but not the more subtle isolation and neglect) and the fact the Roys are literally running an actual rat race while trapped inside Waystair Rocyo 1/2 the time but I have to stay focused on one thing when I write shit down even if I'm connecting dots in my head or else this ask won't even be remotely legible.

[If you already wrote about this - sorry! I hope this makes sense. Either way, have a good night, and fingers crossed something fun happens at Logan's funeral. I still want Tom to fight someone. It won't happen but it'd be funny as hell lol]

yeah i haven't really written anything comprehensive on this, but i do think there are a few interesting points with regards to how the show uses the characters' environments. forgive me for bullet-pointing lol, maybe you can help string these things together into something more cohesive. but:

yes, the characters often spend most of an episode trapped in one location, even one building. in part i think this is a function of the presence of playwrights on the writing staff, and the way many episodes flirt with the three classical unities of tragedy writing (time / place / action). so, lots of episodes are 1 day only, or 2 or 3 max, and often a character will be mostly confined to one location during that span. in part this helps make each individual episode really tight internally, but it also contributes to that persistent sense that the characters are trapped (within their circumstances, company, family, etc)

indoor vs outdoor is an interesting thread. one thing that has always stood out to me is that the show has a tendency to use natural sunlight not as refreshing, enlightening, etc, but as blinding, overwhelming, and even dangerous. the sun almost kills logan in s3, there are those shots in 2x10 and 3x09 where everyone's squinting in the bright light, there's a similar effect in 'austerlitz', etc. this contributed to the overall sense of discomfort that the roys experience, despite all their material luxuries; it also contributes to the sense that nature and the natural world is an alien, external force that appears threatening—this sense also comes out in all of the animal metaphors they use, which emphasise the brutality they see in the animal kingdom and in nature generally

if we're talking places, i also must bring up the presence of bathrooms on the show. these are quotidian rooms, but also dangerous ones, in the sense that they exist to purge a civilised society of its filth, and the whole process tends to be marginalised and wilfuly ignored. so, i've always liked that succession has a lot of scenes set in bathrooms, and often characters are able to speak differently in the bathroom—sometimes more intimate (kendall and stewy, tom and logan in 3x05), or more direct (greg and logan in 2x08), or they're allowed to say things they couldn't elsewhere (roman and mencken). bathrooms are also sheltered personal spaces, where the characters can retreat and hide (kendall using them to do coke, shiv practicing a smile in 1x02, greg rehearsing his congressional testimony)

the waystar offices obviously have that very 21st-century glass-and-steel aesthetic that telegraphs new money, a certain neoliberal attempt at severance from systems of social and cultural meaning-making, etc. so, moving the characters to other locations is effective because, in contrast to the kind of soullessness of the waystar building, it makes the other places stand out and emphasises the meaning we can glean from the sets alone (like, the gut-punch of dodds's house in contrast to the sort of corporate default)

in regards to the idea of control and confinement within luxe spaces—yes, this is clearly something we see many of the environments convey (the ultimate expression of this being the anti-suicide wall that logan puts up to pen kendall in). this is really a discrete material expression of how waystar operates in a broader sense, constraining people whilst appearing to create more options and more freedom (also a basic characteristic of neoliberal modes of production, lol)

again i'm not sure i have a thesis statement here unifying all of these observations lol. but i do think the show does well at using its environments and settings to tell us a lot about the characters, the company, and the broader world they inhabit.

[kkgore]

Book Review for: In the Lives of Puppets

By: TJ Klune

Setting

This book takes place in a world of robots. We are introduced first to Giovanni, who has built himself a tree-house settlement deep in the woods, and there he lives with two other robots, Nurse Ratchet and Rambo, and his human son Victor. The fairytale-esque opening gives us a good overview of a world where humans are both rare and facing some sort of persecution, and a sense of the threat that the wider world may pose to this family. I found the setting instantly legible and explicable. It had a logic to it that made it both exciting and yet pleasantly predictable. That logic was coherent throughout the novel, and so there was never any moment where I felt like I truly did not understand this world or where it was taking me, and as such I was eager to carry on with the journey.

Plot

The plot takes liberally from the most prominent plot points of the Pinocchio story, as well as some seasoning from Shelly’s Frankenstein. The plot follows a fairly typical hero’s journey model, with a couple of twists which are in no way obtuse and more a revelation of a building suspicion than an actual twist. On the whole I really enjoyed how Klune managed to hit all the major allegories with Pinocchio, although some seemed a bit on the nose. The Monstro-Whale/Terrible Dogfish-Dirigible analogy was there but felt more wedged in than placed with consideration, unlike the tension within Victor, who at various times takes on the role of both Geppetto and Pinocchio, Victor Frankenstein and his Creation in ways that are skilfully woven into the plot of his journey.

My main problem with the plot is that it follows a trend in storytelling where the Hero makes large, world changing decisions on the behalf of whole nations or races and then… dips. Just leaves, and we get no more than a few lines where he hopes that the revolution has turned out well but no actual insight into what this post-revolutionary world is going to look like or how it is going to be built. There is some thematic justification to this decision in this book, it parallels decisions Vic’s father made at the beginning of the tale, but I still find it somewhat unsatisfying that in a book about how everyone deserves to be fixed in the end we only really care about two specific people being fixed and everyone else is on their own.

World Building

The world building in this novel is done organically and in a way that consistently adds to the feelings of foreboding that Klune skilfully builds throughout the novel. Klune is also very good at using his worldbuilding as an opportunity to draw parallels with, and make commentary on, our current culture. The Coachman, who runs a Museum of Human Curio’s and Curiosities, tells the Hero and his companions of the ancient human tradition of gender reveals. His utter misinterpretation of both the form and the function of gender reveal parties is a wonderful way not only to make a commentary on how history gets distorted by the victors in a conflict, but also to expose the artifice that lies in the gender reveal party as a concept.

The worldbuilding in this novel was not necessarily new, we have seen similar worlds in many sci-fi films and books such as Robots (2005) but the whimsy and charm with which it is built makes this an inviting world to spend time in.

The worldbuilding also felt purposeful, particularly when done through conversation between the characters. As we learned more about the world, we also learned more about the main thesis of the book; that everyone deserves a chance of redemption. Again, it’s not so much that Klune does anything new with the worldbuilding, but that he uses the worldbuilding as a way to talk very directly about the morality of the story, and to engage in meaningful meditation on the nature of humanity and forgiveness and individuality and so on.

Characters

The characters are the real highlight of this book. It is incredibly character driven, and it is delightful how Klune treats each character with a tenderness and empathy that is deeply compassionate towards their flaws without ever excusing them. All of the robots can be read as representative of some form of disability or neuroatypicality, and Victor is quite clearly meant to be understood as autistic. I felt this worked well, particularly as an overarching analogy for how disability is context dependant and how often the experience of disability is more to do with how society lacks accommodations necessary for a life fully lived, than it is to do with the material fact of the disability itself. I also think this worked well as a way to explore how individuals can work to maintain healthy relationship despite conflicting needs.

The dynamic between Nurse Ratched and Rambo reminds me a lot of the dynamic between Scamper and Brian in Igor (2008), and I found the way they both bounced off of each other delightful. They were a wonderful example of a relationship that is fully accepting of the other, warts and all. The fierce loyalty between these two and Victor was a strong theme throughout the novel, which worked well as a supporting thesis for the main themes of forgiveness and redemption. Ratched was well placed as a nurse droid to explain concepts like asexuality in a dispassionate manner.

That said, I did find towards the end that Ratched and Rambo’s continual conjecture of the nature of the relationship between Vic, who is canonically both asexual and somewhat sex repulsed, and Hap to become more and more uncomfortable as it became clear that this aspect of their behaviour was never going to fully be addressed. I had hoped that there would be some sort of commentary on the intrusive and voyeuristic nature of looking at real relationships through the lens of “shipping” but we didn’t really get any thing in regard to a resolution of the conflict there.

Hap is an interesting take on the Creature from Frankenstein. It is lovely to see what might have happened if the Modern Prometheus had been met with love and admiration rather than fear and shame. I really appreciate that Hap is allowed to still be a generally grumpy person, right through to the end of the novel, and that this is seen as a character expression, rather than a character flaw.

Vic and Hap have a very tender relationship, which is a joy to watch develop.

Vic himself is a thoroughly enjoyable hero to read. He grapples with deep emotional and ethical questions which are hard to resolve, without ever tipping over into either self-pitying or self-aggrandising. His reactions feel very natural and his motivations and insights are intelligent.

The supporting cast of Gio, Vic’s father, The Coachman and The Blue Fairy are all well drawn characters whose conversations with Vic offer some very poignant and insightful meditations on the main themes of this book. The only somewhat disappointing character was the Coachman, who’s motivational 180 was a bit too convenient and just bugged me for a few chapters after it happened.

Prose

The actual prose of this book is delightful. It flows incredibly well; it’s well paced and it was easy get into a groove of reading it. The only point where I was fully thrown out of the text was early on when there was mention of a “camming device” with no explanation of what that was. I don’t think this is a particularly ubiquitous piece of climbing equipment outside of the climbing enthusiast’s world and so could probably do with some explanation.

The main criticism of the prose I would give is that Klune has a habit of introducing motifs he then doesn’t really do anything with. For example, the Authority (the robot overlords) use the symbol of the cat and the fox, which is immediately identifiable as an allusion towards the Disney cartoon but doesn’t do anything beyond being that allusion. It gives no deeper insight into the Authority and if one were not aware of the Disney cartoon then there would be no clear reason why this symbol is being emphasised repeatedly. When he does use symbolism, like the motif of the clockwork heart that works its way throughout this novel, he does it spectacularly well. There is a richness to his use of symbolism that is so enchanting that it is even more disappointing when there is then such empty symbolism alongside it.

Finally, I would add that the first part of the novel could do with a few paragraph breaks. I did not find the long run-on nature of the opening to be particularly ADHD friendly and that was the only part of the book where I regularly found myself going back to reread a passage to make sure I had the right of it.

Conclusion

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I found it engaging and charming and thoroughly enjoyed the dialectical explorations of personhood, forgiveness, redemption and friendship. I found the meditations on these themes insightful and inspiring and had more than one flash of insight into my own WIP as a result of reading this.

That said I was somewhat dissatisfied with the ending. This may be a personal thing as a bit of a policy wonk, but I really would have appreciated even just a little more about how society was going to move forward after the hero’s completed their quest. That is not to say that the ending was not beautiful, it was a wonderfully understated and tender way to end the story, but I could not help but be distracted by thoughts of all the others whose lives were impacted and the uncertainty of their fate.

I would recommend this book to those who enjoy imaginative retellings of classic literature, as well as anyone who enjoys somewhat whimsical sci fi settings. I think this would be a marvellous book for a 14–16-year-old, although it does have some strong language and sexual references that not all parents will be happy with, and it is the sort of book a weird little 12-year-old who already reads beyond their reading level (like me) and hides copies of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere under their bed (like I did) would absolutely devour and obsess over for years to come.

[daniel-fortesque]

Expedition to the ruins...

A few weeks ago Janelle discovered an ancient map of Rauryn Heights in the crypt of an old ruined family vault of an unknown soldier. There were several places on the map, including ones that no longer existed, but one place that was truly intriguing was the map in the area of the freshwater lake next to the "White Mansion Ruins" to the north, marked in red ink, a blur with a barely legible inscription "Bloody spurs".

Bloody spurs. Lake near the ruins

Cullen: Father, we're here. Ussur cleared the passage, and now we are sailing to look around. As soon as we are on site, I will contact you. End of connection!

Sean: Got it, be careful!

Ichthyander Ussur floats to the surface of the lake and swims up to Harker's boat.

Ussur: Lord Cullen, the path is clear!

C: Okay, let's see what's in there. Kallen and Ussur swim through the tunnel and emerge in a grotto under the mansion.

U: Over here, my lord. Kallen and Ussur disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

Bloody spurs. Grotto

C: A real grotto under the mansion. I wonder who lived here used this tunnel to hide something?

U: Rather, he was hiding from love adventures ... well, or from creditors. I guess the cave was once more "cleaner", but due to earthquakes, half of the cave is deformed, and the water has become strange ... and the water is the color of blood, smelling of metal.

C: Don't you love this smell?

U: It's different here, my lord... Vile.

C: I agree. Okay, let's take a look.

They moved between the sharp stalactites, trying not to hurt themselves. The grotto was no larger than the living room at the main Harker estate in Twinburke. But because of the collapses, it was difficult to understand its real size. The cave was of natural origin, only the stone arches, plausibly close to the style, stood out a little. Cullen noticed them.

C: Look, it looks like there is an entrance to another room. Ussur glanced into the darkness of the room indicated by Cullen.

U: It looks like it. But I suggest looking around here for now.

C: Yes, but the lights don't stop flickering. It’s impossible to look around normally, at least for me for sure.

U: Why, my lord?

C: Although I am the son of a vampire, I do not see in the dark and through walls like you or just in the dark like a father.

U: I beg your pardon, Lord Cullen, I forgot. But, alas, my vision here for some reason is powerless. I can't see anything behind objects or behind walls. Something is bothering me. But through the darkness, I see everything clearly. Please forgive me.

C: Stop apologizing, Ussur. By the way, you need to contact them. Cullen turned on the headset.

“Cullen speaking, over?

S: Over, Cullen, we hear you well, the signal on the camera is very bad, the picture is not visible. Everything is fine?

C: Yes. Ussur and I are in the grotto under the mansion. Everything is “overgrown” with stones, most of the hall is littered, so there is nowhere to turn around. The water inside is red and smells like metal, but it's not blood, as Ussur says. It's something else...

J: "Something else"? For example?

C: No idea, Mom. The smell of metal, maybe there is something metallic here ... it has rusted, coloring the water, but in this light it is impossible to understand. The lanterns here are very junk. We need to come back here with more advanced equipment, and not light as it is now.

S: Right, given that you went there just to reconnoiter. I will ask Thor to come, then we will discuss further actions. Video transmission is not working on your camera, Cullen, switch it to photo mode and take a picture of everything in the cave. When you return, we will study all the pictures in more detail.

C: I will. We're moving on, I'll call again later.

U: My lord, did you find any information about this building above us? S: No, we have already discussed everything that we knew. Nothing more could be dug up.

Ussur and Cullen turned off the radio, and Harker began renting the room. Ussur, on the other hand, examined the cave, but he was not going to go into the arch discovered by Cullen alone. Ussur walked around the cave several times, but he did not find anything useful or unusual. Only the statue above the water and standing on a pedestal worried him a little. Even when he swam up to her and probed, he did not find anything unusual.

Having finished shooting the grotto, Cullen nodded to Ussur and the two of them went deep into the grotto. With their hands on the shoulders of the ichthyander, they walked in a file, and the vampire was the "eyes" of both. Ussur felt tension at every step, and this did not escape his companion.

C: What's the matter, buddy? Do you see anything behind the walls? U: No, nothing. There is something I don't like here.

C: Danger?

U: Possibly. The corridor of the narrow corridor was partially littered, it would be impossible to clear it with just one pickaxe. Dynamite was excluded - the collapse of the ceiling is guaranteed! The travelers came out into the only uncluttered small hall, but it was not a natural cave, it was a room with well-finished and hewn walls. Cullen took a few shots, with the flash he could see a little of the room, but the scenery was no different from the previous room. Cullen contacted the Harkers again.

C: Callen speaking, over? A strong crackling sound was heard in the earpiece, at the other end they answered. The connection was clearly broken and barely caught.

S: Cullen... it's hard to hear.

C: It's okay! I repeat, everything is fine. Communication deteriorates as you go deeper. How did you get it?

Crack again. The signal was weakening.

S: Understood…sho…Communication…pl…Cullen…don’t delay… Go back to…and from there, along…no… How do you understand, n…?!

C: Accepted. End of connection!

S: The end...!

Ussur returned from somewhere behind his back and, lightly touching Cullen, said: “My lord, I found something in the other room. Come on! In this corridor, a copper light shone faintly and Cullen's flashlight.

There was a faint copper light in this corridor, and Cullen's flashlight worked more or less normally. This corridor was just as small, but unlike the other rooms, this one looked the most interesting. At one far end of the wall were three red granite columns carved into niches. The columns were the same along the edges, the niches were approximately in the middle of the pillars, and the third between them with a niche almost at the top and in it stood a terrible altar object. The skull on the candelabra looked across the room. In front of this column stood a tall golden candelabra with a beautiful stone with carved lace petals embedded inside.

C: Interesting, isn't it? One particular skull appears to be made of something, the stone looks like plaster. There are some precious stones in the eye sockets. And jewelry physalis in a candelabra bowl. U: It looks like these items are part of the mechanism ...

C: And the same thought flashed through me when I saw this skull, but where he looks is also littered with stones.

Ussur turned sharply to the wall and began to move his hands along the walls, as if he had sensed something.

C: Hey, what are you doing?

U: My lord, have you read the books of your ancestor Master Janos Harker, an archaeologist-adventurer?

C: So, wait… Janos… Janos… Ah! Ephra's son, huh? The one who found a lot of artifacts in Egypt and canopic canopies with sarcophagi?

U: Yep.

C: No, just one... "Curse of the Pharaoh's Tomb" or something like that... Why?

U: Master Janos wrote in his books what he told us all. Lord Janos once mentioned that in one of the lost tombs in the Valley of the Kings, he found a room with several carved plinths. The lord said that several plinths were empty, and the rest carried certain objects in accordance with the inscriptions in the bases.

C: Oh yes. I forgot that you caught him alive, and I think you were the one who predicted to Ephra that she would have twins, right?

U: Fortunately, yes.

C: You know, sometimes I envy you.

Ussur turned to Cullen questioningly.

C: You saw many Harkers personally, watched their birth, how they grew up and all their life until their death you were with them. In this I envy you. Ussur smiled sadly.

U: No, my lord. There is nothing to envy here. Every time someone dies in the family, everything inside me is torn apart. And the thought that I can do nothing kills me ... Powerless in front of it.

Cullen grimaced and, in order to lead his friend in a more important direction, changed the subject.

C: If you are hinting at the inscriptions, then they are not here, but about the objects ... One of them is a skull on the topmost pedestal, so to speak, it is in place. But two niches are empty, which means they must be "occupied with something." Ussur moved along the wall diligently feeling each stone, peering with his eyesight, but they did not see anything, which is strange. Ichthyander now stretching out to the full length of his body, then shrinking into rings like a snake, he led his hands down along the entire wall. Nothing. Taking a deep breath, he returned to the pillars.

U: Did you take a picture of the room, my lord?

Cullen nodded.

U: Well, that's all we can do for now. These pillars are definitely some kind of mechanism... But certain items are needed.

C: Skulls? W: I think so too. Once one of them is already in place, you need to find or make others yourself.

C: We may be wrong, but it's worth a try.

Ichthyander crossed his arms over his chest and for a long time examined the columns and the candelabra in front of them.

Then he nodded to Cullen and spoke. U: We have to go back. Lord Sean and the others will be worried that we've been out of touch for so long. Yes, I would like to return as soon as possible. Cullen smiled broadly.

C: Do you think my son has already woken up and missed you?

Ussur was slightly embarrassed and could not help smiling in return.

U: I hope so, my lord. Cullen looked around the gloomy grotto. This cave holds no less secrets than the mansion above them, or rather, what is left of it.

C: So far, I can say with accuracy that we have found the entrance to the grotto and this corridor leads further, but in order to understand how we can move forward, we need to return here more equipped and prepared. Let's go from here.

U: I agree.

***

The next expedition failed. Cullen and Ussur returned home and the family, having discussed the details, decided to postpone the visit to the grotto in the near future until Janelle recovered. But soon Sean's wife was hospitalized with a serious illness, and the adventure to visit the grotto was postponed. After several months of grueling struggle, Janelle died in the hospital. Ussur no longer brought up the subject of the ruins with his family, but guided by his curiosity and adventurous nature, he secretly sailed to the grotto for his own exploration.

- Harker Dynasty (playing this family since 2017)  

[inhcritance]

@arachnidbit asked: “ why didn’t you tell me you were sick? “

He remembers far, far too easily a moment years past, sitting on a very familiar desk as he writes an apology. As he tries to force unsteady hands to scribble something legible, because he wants it to be genuine, to be his own writing that his friends last read of him... for a while. He has to think it's just for a while.

He remembers too well the regret, and the knowledge that it was too late to show himself, but one truth remains: he hadn't wanted to. His friends might have deserved so much better, but in the end, it had not just been cowardice leading him. Or perhaps it had been, and he simply didn't care anymore.

Because he knows it: Peter would have been there for him. And there lies the problem.

Step, after step, after step, Harry takes a moment to word his answer. To delight himself in the ease of walking, which he hasn't always considered a given, distraction as it might be.

"I didn't want you to see me like that, Peter." He replies. And then, "I didn't want you to remember me like that."

He couldn't have handled the pity, and he wanted to be remembered as something better than angry and bedridden and sick. Because he knew what it would look like, and how it would feel.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you in person." He concedes. "Before I left."

But telling him and MJ about it before had never been an option. And it's not an option now, either. Not when he spends half of his life trying to control senses and instincts that are not right, that do not fit, but keep him alive and strong and himself, and then he misses the strength and the energy when it's just him and then his body starts fighting him again. Step by step.

It's a cycle, and the serum is the only thing keeping him alive right now. And yet, he smiles.

"But it all worked out in the end." He lies.

As if he hadn't become everything he'd ever promised himself he wouldn't be, in his most desperate bid to survive.

"I'm not going anywhere this time."

Maybe someday his friends will forgive him all the lies, if they ever find out about them. He still has to hope they won't.