#but is that really all some people got from harrow. is that it. you choose those words. seriously.

[catrasfreckles]

Harrow is brave and resilient and stubborn and prideful and those are only some of the words you can use to describe her that are not "sad wet cat" or "goblin"!!! Hope this helps!!!!!

[fujosh1dreamer]

Some of yall are really annoying.

If I see one more person talk about, one runaan being a hater towards rayllum I'm gonna fight somebody, and two some idiot saying that Ezran is gonna hate or try to kill runaan for revenge or whatever I'm also gonna lose it.

First of all runaan didn't even react to seeing callum, let alone react negatively towards him. He basically just got out of a like two year comma, and yall fools are trying to say he's gonna make them breakup?? Where's the deductive reasoning skills I know yall kids were taught in school.

Just this episode we did a whole scene about love, and forgiveness. All about how runaan felt he betrayed himself by not trusting rayla, and how he also broke his promise by not coming back to ethari. And you still think he's gonna be some bigot hater after all that?

Next point is ezrans possible reaction to seeing runaan.

I'm sorry but it you think or want ezran to hate runaan or want him dead, then you lack media literacy, and you've never understood ezrans character.

Ezran forgave rayla season two, and more importantly he moved on from the ideas of revenge, and broke the cycle of hate created by king Harrow and viren season 3, remember? So did callum for that matter.

Ezrans whole story is about not being like Harrow admitting that the path he took was wrong, and choosing to be better.

Also Ez just learned that his entire kingdom was burned down, and lots of his people died and you think he's got time to focus on something like that he's KING.

It's sad that ezran is like ten, and more mature than most people in this Fandom.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter VI

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: sorry for the major delay on this chapter everyone, I've been juggling a lot privately and professionally but I'll be back to regular updates over the course of the next week <3 also, just broke 20k with this update, woo!! summary for this chapter is: the art of self-sabotage. or, old habits die hard.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving/receiving), loss of virginity, dirty talk, shower sex, falling in love

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark @sadslasher13 (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

How could you let this happen? Be this stupid?

This is exactly what you didn't want, trying your absolute damnedest to bury your feelings for Bjorn deep, deep under the weight of denial and downplay but—you can't, no matter how hard you try.

You're fighting an increasingly losing battle, falling further every time Bjorn comes around, every time he fucks you and holds you in his arms after. Every time he apologizes for whatever mean things he said in front of the others just so he can keep up the appearances you so desperately wanted to uphold. Every time he tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers that everything's going to be alright when nothing about this remotely is.

And you cry every time he leaves, finding it harder and harder to hold it in each time he does, like he's taking another piece of your heart with him every time he goes, crying salt into your pillow as you hug it close to your naked chest in the hours after, until your sobs taper off into pathetic wet sniffles, dehydrated and drained like you’re grieving a loss that hasn’t yet come to fruition.

But it will—and that’s the crux of it isn’t it, because you know in your bones, in your soul that you’ll lose this just like you’ve lost everything else before, because you’ve learned early on that everyone, no matter how much you need them, will always, always, leave in the end.

It’s a tough pill to swallow but then again, the truth always is, so you do what you can to prepare for it, choosing to shatter the illusion of happiness yourself instead of waiting for it all to inevitably come crashing down around you, desperately hoping it won’t hurt as bad when you do.

A decision you come to after another night spent drinking in the quarry, most nights spent together spent drinking, alcohol the only thing that really takes the edge off after an incredibly long and difficult shift.

Slumped back into the camping chair you’re sitting in, the one that you’ve unofficially claimed as yours, you quietly watch the familiar dance of flames everyone was sitting around, finishing off the last of your beer while the others talked and laughed.

You’d been pretty quiet all night, barely contributing anything to the conversations happening around you, too busy in your own head contemplating how to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve found yourself in as you tossed the now empty glass bottle into some nearby bushes.

Usually you'd stop after three, never one to catch anything more than a buzz but tonight, tonight you wanted to get absolutely shit-faced, wanted to shut out all the white noise inside your head, if only for a little while.

So you go to get up, intent on grabbing another drink from the worn down cooler Navarro’s feet were propped up on when Bjorn’s voice made you freeze, asking, “needa refill luv?” from the other side of the pit, head whipping up so hard you almost threw it out.

He must’ve been watching you, had to have been for him to have immediately noticed you were out, your stomach fluttering wildly at the assumption, doing your absolute damnedest not to show it on your face, no matter how badly you want to hiss at Bjorn, “what the fuck are you doing—sit back down!!!” but, you don't. Can't. The words dying in your throat every time you went to say it.

With your eyes glued to him, you watched as he walked around the burning steel drum towards his sister, his shoulders slouched and his chin down, the confident swagger he usually carries himself with gone and been replaced with a level of uncertainty you're not used to, one that helplessly flashes you back to shy blue eyes unable to meet yours just before he sucked on your breasts or stretched you open on his thick fingers.

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling wetness starting to seep between them. Not the time.

Bjorn nudged Navarro’s feet off the cooler lid, totally ignoring the scowl his sister threw at him while her hand was cupped around the dying cherry of her cigarette she was trying to keep from going out, fishing another bottle of aspen beer from the half melted ice in the process.

He came to a stop in front of you, holding the drink out by the glass neck to take, giving a smile meant just for you, so warm it had you burning hotter than the kindling wood behind him as everything briefly dissolved around you, like the entire universe was made up of just you, him, and the space in between, the warmth he was wearing radiating throughout your chest.

It was incredibly tender and brief and all wrong, the moment interrupted when Rain cleared her throat beside you, bringing you crashing back down to reality.

More than enough to make you recoil—hard. The bottle you'd been mid hand off slipping from your grip and shattering onto the pebbled stones between his and your feet, splashing chilled lager across both of your pant legs.

Bjorn had sworn under his breath then, asking you things like, “fuck, ah’ ya alright?” and, “ya’ ain't hurt ah’ ya,’ darlin?’” but you’d barely heard, had tuned it all out as your gaze swung wildly around the lopsided circle your friends were huddled in, all eyes on you.

Whether from the beer or from Bjorn you didn't know—didn't want to know, feeling severely scrutinized under the weight of their collective stare, like they could see right through you, like they knew what you were hiding, causing you to shrink down low into your seat, line of sight trained on the freshly wet gravel as you snapped at Bjorn that you didn't want his fucking handouts.

You could see the lower half of Bjorn’s body go rigid from within your periphery, refusing to look up and meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find, of possibly seeing some of that blossoming affection you’d been feeling mirrored in his icy blues, waiting to let out the shaky exhale you’d been holding until he walked back to his seat.

No one commented on your bizarre little exchange, probably because they knew you were a flight risk, that you’d turn tail and run at the first sign of conflict—like you always did, which is why you forced yourself to stay, not wanting to raise any more questions.

After the bonfire had ended Bjorn, like most nights, found his way back to your apartment, a bit cautious to approach you in your bedroom, probably sensing the sour mood he'd inadvertently put you in, asking for permission to touch while he crawled into your bed to join you.

And now here you are, Bjorn grunting as he thrusts into you once, twice, three more times before he finishes inside the condom buried eight inches deep between your legs, hairline damp from exertion with his bangs sticking to his forehead in sweaty little peninsulas.

He leans down, the cool metal of his dog tags brushing up your bare chest while he does, to plant an incredibly tender kiss to your lips, smiling into it when he feels you reciprocate, going in for a slew of quick pecks the same time he lets go of the leg he’s still holding up, fingers dimpling the back of your thigh.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he grins a little wider, still a bit winded as he tries catching his breath, rolling off of you to lie flat on his back instead, covered in a fresh set of scratches trailing down from his shoulders to the base of his spine.

There's a beat of silence, only punctuated by the mingling of your heavy breathing slowly returning to normal and the systematic tick of your alarm clock on the bedside table next to your head, feeling Bjorn's hand find its way into yours down between your bodies.

Tears start to crease along your waterlines, rapidly fluttering your lashes to try and blink them away, to not draw Bjorn’s attention to how absolutely vulnerable you feel. This was a mistake. A big one. And not just tonight—all of it. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered filthy praise shared between you, closing your eyes for a moment, just long enough for you to work up the nerve and say, “we have to talk,” voice thick with thinly-veiled emotion.

Bjorn perks up at that, rolling onto his side as he sat up on his elbow, cheek resting on a loosely curled fist, the shitty stick and poke of the losing dice frowny face he has tatted on the back of his right hand, one of the many Navarro gave him when he was fifteen and they were both high as a kite while giggling quietly on the floor of his bedroom as to not wake their dad, upside down from this angle.

“Glad ya’ said sumthin’ princess,” he smiles a shy, tiny thing you aren’t used to, fighting the overwhelming urge to back out now, “cuz m’ pretty sure I feel tha’ same.”

You seriously doubt that, your suspicion sadly confirmed when he confesses, “I think m’ fallin’ fo’ ya,’” the same time you say, “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

More silence, except—this one says a hell of a lot more.

Your throat goes tight and painful, like you just swallowed shards of glass and poured salt into the resulting wounds, watching the smile on his face quickly dissolve, replaced by a pinched frown and the confused furrow of his eyebrows, sitting all the way up to stare down at you.

“Wha’?” He asks, so small and fragmented it feels like a knife stab to the chest having to hear it. Fuck, you knew it was going to sting,that you were in too deep by the time you realized you were falling for him, but you didn't expect it to hurt this bad, like you want to take it all back but you don't—you can’t, for your sake and his.

“I said,” you push through the acute ache, disguising your tone with something harsher, something hurtful, “we should stop seeing each other. It's just—not working out anymore.”

“M’ sorry but where in tha’ bloody fuck is this all comin’ from? I thought things wuz’ good between us,” he argues, using his hand to gesture between your body and his as you sit up against the headboard, pulling your blanket up over your chest so you aren't so exposed.

“Well, you were wrong. We just—we aren't meant for each other. We're only hooking up out of convenience and you know it,” you reinforce, unable to meet his eyes head on, just like the quarry, gaze trained on the worn comforter by his naked thigh.

Still, you're able to catch a glimpse of the confusion on Bjorn's face morph into utter annoyance, snapping at you to, “cut tha’ shit already.”

“Excuse me?” You bristle immediately, letting your anger temporarily eclipse your pain so you don't break down in front of him, “fuck you if you think I'm lying.”

“Oh, m’ sorry if m’ havin’ a hard time believin’ ya, but ya’ can't jus’ fake tha’ kinda chemistry. I'm willin’ ta’ bet it all on black ya’ felt it jus’ as much as I did.”

You can see desperation bleed into his eyes, hear it seep into his words, wavering like he's not so sure anymore but still trying to convince himself that he's right—and he is, you know in your bones that he is but he doesn't need to know that, muttering back, “what the fuck do you even know.”

His nostrils flare as a result, clearly offended by your statement, leaning in on his palm, fingers spread over your sweaty, wrinkled bed sheets, his gaze firmly transfixing itself on you, “‘scuze me? Ah’ ya’ tryna be daft on purpose?” not giving you any room to respond before he continues on.

“Listen—I can't speak fo’ ya,’ but I know wha’ I fuckin’ feel. D’ya really fuckin’ think I wanna feel like this?! Tha’ I wanted this ta’ happen? Course fuckin’ not. I don't get close ta’ people tha’ ain't mah’ family but then you. Ya’ came along an’—I neva’ intended ta’ get ta’ know ya’ at all. Yeah I thought ya’ wuz a total smokeshow when I first laid mah’ eyes on ya’ but I figured ya’ wouldn't stick around long with how bloody standoffish ya’ were, always lookin’ like ya' didn't wanna be there

“But then ya’ did. Ya’ did an’ we almost fuckin’ died so I opened up ta’ ya’ figurin’ we wuz both gonnas’ then ya’ let me touch ya.’ Let me inside ya,’ an’ I couldn't stop fuckin’ replayin’ it in mah' head tha’ night I slept ova’ at Kay an’ Tyler's. Had ta’ rub one out in tha’ bathroom an’ bite down on mah’ fuckin' fist like a hormonal tweener. I woulda been embarrassed if I wuzn't so fuckin' turned on.

“So I had ta’ go back fo’ a round two, see if it wuz jus’ a fluke but once I was fuckin’ ya again I couldn't stop, I wanted more every time, like a fuckin’ junkie lookin’ fo’ tha’ next fix, no matta’ how hard I tried resistin.’ But then I started ta’ notice otha’ things ‘sides tha’ face ya’ make when I make ya’ pussy weep around mah’ cock an’ ya' sing so pretty fo’ me,” he says, face neutral and tone even despite how hot your cheeks are hearing that.

“Like how carin’ ya' ah’ fo’ tha’ othas’ despite actin’ like ya’ don't. Tha’ ya' had ta’ grow up fas’ as fuck an’ took it out on yaself’ instead o’ lashin’ out like an’ insecure prick. Like me. Tha' I thought I'd neva’ seen someone so fuckin' beautiful in all mah’ life when ya’d fall asleep befo’ me, even when ya’ wuz droolin’ on mah’ chest and snorin’ like one o’ them fuckin' minin’ drills. Tha’ I thought I could listen ta’ ya' horrendous singin’ in tha’ showa’ all day when ya’ woke up befo’ me. Tha’ I wanted ta’ call ya’ mine fo’ a fuckin’ while now.

An’ I know I wuzn't jus’ imaginin’ shit. I might be shit at expressin’ mah’ feelins’ but so ah’ you. Ya’ can’t convince me none o’ it wuz real.”

You consider trying to take it all back, while he’s still giving you an out, feeling like your heart’s been violently ripped out of your chest but you refrain from doing so, choosing to stand your ground, no matter how shaky the earth beneath you feels. You can’t afford to lose someone again, it’ll be better in the long run to ruin it now than to let life steal someone else away when you least expect it, when you can’t possibly handle any more heartbreak.

Finally meeting his eyes you force yourself not to flinch at the intensity of his gaze as they scrutinize you, like he can see right through you, feeling more exposed now than you did when he first got you naked.

“It wasn’t,” you insist, somewhat petulantly.

It’s his turn to roughly swallow at what you say, his confidence visibly waning in the slouch of his shoulders and the way he pulls back a little, the uncertainty of his words when you first confessed making a comeback—much stronger this time but still underscored by a level of defiance like he’s clinging on to some modicum of hope.

“So allat—allat really meant absolutely nuthin’ ta’ ya?’”

You know you have to inflict maximum damage, to crush any chance of making the same mistake twice, finding yourself leaning in like he did earlier to emphasize your point, not deviating away from devastated blue as you hiss, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

And that was all it took, watching how quickly Bjorn turned his back to you while he quietly yanked on his clothes, shoulders shaking in anger, in rejection—in defeat. He's hurting, it's more than obvious by the way his voice shakes, sounding like wet gravel as he croaks at you to, “have a nice fuckin’ life,” before storming out of your apartment, leaving you alone, the silence you once found comfort in when you were on your own bordering on unbearable now.

It's for the best, you reason, it's what needs to happen, you don't need to make this any harder than it already fucking is, finally allowing yourself to break down, as pained sobs rack your body, crying so hard you grab at your chest like you’re trying to open another airway, gasping between each tearful moan.

So, if this is really for the best—then why does it feel like the worst decision you’ve ever made?

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 5

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Jake tries to fall asleep beside you, Steven is there to adore you in the morning and Marc is still struggling. What happens when Jake breaks his lifelong silence?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, longing, complicated relationship stuff. Angst. References to past abuse. Struggles with addiction/alcoholism and its effects. Probably inaccurate description of addiction. self-worth probs. Violence is mentioned. kissing and touching, implied sex but no smut, nothing explicit or gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

With little convincing, Jake got ready for bed, so he could join you in finally getting some rest. Your 3am alarm went off as he was washing up, so you silenced the one for 4:00.

Conveniently it was your day off, so no other alarm was set. Steven did have one class mid-day, but otherwise, also had the day off.

As Jake slid under the covers, you reached to turn off the bedside lamp. Then you were left in the same position you found yourself in that first night.

The night he held your hand.

Remembering what you'd whispered to him in the dark that night, you softly uttered, "I'm glad you came back to me, Jake."

"I'll always come back to you," he swiftly replied, his voice the softest you'd ever heard it.

Slowly, you reached for him, resting your hand over his. He immediately slid his fingers through yours, just like the first night, and whispered goodnight.

Jake always came home while you were asleep, and he didn't even front every day. Usually he was only there when Khonshu bid him take to the nighttime alleyways and rooftops, or when Marc and Steven were in an exorbitant amount of danger...

...which was unfortunately more often than either of them (or you) were aware. Marc had a long and colorful past, in which he'd made many enemies - some of them, through no fault of his.

Abused, with an undiagnosed disorder, there were sections of his life missing, and problems he just couldn't control. That, combined with blackouts from drinking and a mighty temper, when provoked, had left a trail of...unfortunate mishaps. And pissed off former associates and enemies.

Time eased many grievances, and Marc had handled several problems on his own, years ago. But even after Jake himself had dispensed with Arthur Harrow, there still lingered fingers of his network. And those weren't the only problems.

Just last week, Jake had disposed of a man who had followed you home from work two nights in a row. He simply watched the first night, choosing restraint, but after he saw the mysterious man following you a little too closely the second night, well - that man did not live to see a third.

At first, Jake wondered how Marc could be so naive. He expected that more from Steven. Well, not naivety, exactly, but a general "chin up" outlook on life that the he radiated.

Steven, although far more direct, outspoken and cautious than most people gave him credit for, was an overall ray of sunshine. In protecting the system, Jake wasn't just protecting his own body, or Marc, who he had known since his youth, he was protecting Steven - the one Marc simply could not do without.

And Jake supposed that's what it all came down to. Marc had settled into a beautiful domesticity with both you and Steven. And maybe that was why Marc couldn't perceive the danger you were all in.

Jake was happy to keep it that way. If Marc was not only safe, but thriving, if Steven was growing and learning, putting his beautiful mind to work, and the two of them had someone they loved? Then Jake had done his job. As long he stayed on top of things, it could all work out.

But the drinking relapse was a problem. And he hadn't counted on you meeting him.

Jake had often wondered how Marc and Steven - for lack of a better word - shared you. He wondered if they ever got jealous. Or if you ever showed any preference for one over the other. That's why he thought it best to stay out of it. Not only did he hope to keep his head down and do his job, he was concerned that getting mixed up with you would only confuse him.

That all went right to hell when he carelessly barreled into your bedroom the other night, having forgotten to have Marc or Steven check in with you earlier, or go to bed beside you. He was equally panicked and wonderfully elated for this mishap.

And now, as your soft breathing slowed, he tried to pretend this night was like every other time he'd slipped through the window to find you asleep.

But it wasn't and he couldn't.

He wished you were still awake. He wished he had more time to hear your voice, to watch the flurry of you around the room, picking up his things, worrying after him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remembered the press of your body against his - the soft satin hugging your shape.

Shit. He could use a cigarette. Or maybe he could beat the hell out of someone.

It was difficult to blow off steam when Marc - a.k.a. their body - couldn't drink and with Marc and Steven engaged to you. Jake tried to respect that. He had the right to his own life, sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to "blow off steam" in that way since you got engaged. You weren't his, but he was faithful to you anyway.

As if sensing his irritation in your sleep, you rolled over, burying your face into his shoulder, snuggling up to him comfortably.

Jake was walking a very fine line between soothed and riled up. If your leg made its way across his thigh, he was going to lose his shit.

Only a few hours later, as the sun struggled to climb into a gray sky, you woke up, tangled in someone. Wondering who might greet you each morning always brought the tiniest smile to your face, but on this morning, just for a moment, you wondered if it was Jake.

Your body stiffened. Did you sleep like this for the past few hours? Did it bother him? You hadn't ever thought of what you might do in the night when Jake got home from his escapades.

As the man beside you continued to breathe evenly, in and out, you decided that three hours of sleep was definitely not enough.

Hours later, you awoke to the domestic sounds of the kitchen. You smelled cooked food and heard the sink's water running, along with the clang of a pot or saucepan.

The sun had made its way through the morning fog, and a sliver of it poured through the crack between the drawn drapes and the window.

After stretching like a very satisfied cat, you freshened up in the bathroom and headed back to your closet to decide what to wear for your day off.

Steven was waiting for you on your bed, perched on the edge.

"Morning, my love," he hummed cheerily, his eyes raking down your body appreciatively. "See you've got on those nice satin pajamas I gave you."

Glancing down at yourself, you softly smiled. "Indeed."

"You're so bloody lovely," he breathed, eyes darkening as he reached out his hand to beckon you back to bed.

Feeling absolutely adored and a little frisky, you skittered over, ready to pounce, when he held up two hands to stop you.

"Careful, darling, I've made you breakfast. Or brunch, rather. It's eleven o'clock," he laughed, nodding toward the tray sitting in the middle of the bed.

Eyes wide, you beamed - but it didn't stop you from climbing onto his lap, just...carefully.

"You are an angel." Locking your arms behind his neck, you dragged your hips forward until you were flush against his body. Rubbing your nose against his, you giggled as he chased after your lips.

"Feeling cheeky this morning, are we?" he tutted after trying and failing to kiss you a few times. "Come here, you." Gently gripping your face in one hand, he opened his mouth hotly over yours. Sucking your lips one at a time, he teased you right back, easing one strong arm around your back. His forearm flexed, holding you firmly as he thrust up against you.

"Steven," you gasped, shifting in his lap to feel him just where you wanted him. Licking into his mouth, you pushed your fingers into his curls, tugging just hard enough for him to jerk deliciously against you again.

The two of you went on that way until he laid back on the bed, pulling you on top of him.

"Steven, Steven, wait--"

Too late. The tray carrying your breakfast spilled all over the bed, some of the jam-covered toast landing on Steven's adorably oversized sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Scurrying off the bed, you rapidly gathered up the mess, hands bumping into Steven's as he struggled to help you.

"Thank goodness I've left the tea on the table then, yeah?"

You burst out laughing.

You and Steven cleaned up the bed, finished breakfast (at the table) and dressed in cozy clothes for a day off together. Steven decided missing one class wouldn't hurt anything, since he had high marks in every course.

"Thank you for taking care of me this morning, my love," you sighed contentedly, draping your legs across his lap as you relaxed on the couch. "I noticed you pulled the drapes closed so I could sleep in."

"Oh...must've been Marc, I s'ppose," he mused, rubbing up and down your leg. "Wasn't me."

"Oh, okay. But it was you that cleaned up the broken bottle the other morning, right? Before I woke up and made breakfast for Marc?"

Steven's head whipped around so fast. "Sorry, what? Marc broke a bottle? Darling--"

"It wasn't like that, I promise. It was an accident," you soothed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently, forgetting, in that moment, who could have cleaned up the bottle.

"Everything's a bit odd lately, innit?" He spoke up after a few moments. "Khonshu scaring the life out of Marc like that, deceivin' us both. Bloody stupid pigeon."

"I'm sorry, baby." You felt a shade guilty having talked to Jake twice when Marc and Steven had yet to even meet him.

"Not your fault, love. The old bird's the one to blame. Him and this other mysterious bloke I've got up here." He tapped one finger to his forehead.

"Jake, you mean." You eyed him cautiously. Feeling like you hadn't seen Steven as much for the past few days, you felt the need to confess - catch him up. "I talked to him again last night. Did Marc tell you we'd met?"

Dark eyes cut over to yours - unreadable - a rarity in your warm and open Steven. "Didn't have to. Spoke to him myself."

You gasped a little dramatically. "Y-you talked to Jake? He talked to you?"

"A bit, yeah," Steven sighed. "A bit. Might have told us we were still entangled with Khonshu so Marc didn't have to wake up in an alley like that. It's no bloody wonder he's had a rough go of it."

Gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you inched a little closer to him on the couch. "So...you're angry with him then. With Jake."

Shaking his head, Steven's gaze dropped. "He's got his own life I s'ppose. Rather used to the way things are with Marc, is all."

"Must be hard, sweetheart," you sweetly sympathized, wishing you could fix any and everything for these men you loved.

"Not your fault," he softly repeated, reaching up to caress your cheek. "He does seem a bit taken with you, though."

Oh god.

"R-really," you squeaked. "Jake said that?"

"Not exactly, but...I gathered," Steven mused, his fingers trailing down over your throat to rest along your collarbone, which he traced carefully. "Made me wonder if you'd worn that lovely satin for him, if I'm honest."

You gulped. "Well...not for him, exactly. I did want to talk to him in a little more than Marc's t-shirt. I want answers too."

The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward, reminding you of Jake. "You're a vision in anything, darling - bare legs and t-shirt, or black satin. I certainly understand why he fancies you."

You skin heated up as you tried to decide how to respond.

And just like Jake the previous night, Steven seemed to enjoy you flustered like this. Giving you a devilish smile, he trailed his fingers down your arm.

"Steven...you're my fiancé," you finally managed, a little breathless. "Jake and I have only spoken twice. It will take a little more than crawling in the window at night to get to know one another."

Nodding, Steven asked, "But you would...like to get to know him?"

"Of course I would," you instantly answered, as if it were obvious. "Of course I want to know someone in our lives like this - part of you and Marc, and...honestly, someone who has you all out at night doing god knows what."

Reaching for your fiancé, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Besides, I doubt Jake said he fancies me," you chuckled. "Doesn't really sound like him."

"Ohhh, it doesn't, does it?" Steven laughed out. Studying you closely, he added, "Would you like to know what he really said? 'Bout you?"

Spellbound, you nodded as Steven leaned in close. "I'm not going to tell you. That's between you two. But I will tell you what I think, if you care to know."

Climbing across his lap, you touched your forehead to his. "As long as it's something good, baby."

"Oh it is," he breathed against your mouth.

He never told you. But you did finish what you'd started in the bedroom.

After all the recent late night activities, plus a vigorous couple of rounds in bed with Steven, your sated bodies drifted off to sleep...

...which inevitably led to you waking up from your nap, wondering who would be greeting you. The flat was quiet and you were alone.

Feeling a little more relaxed and rested than you had felt in days, you found the clothes Steven had yanked off your body just a couple hours before. You didn't want to waste one more second of your shared day off by sleeping.

After checking the bathroom and the living room, you finally found a note in the kitchen from Marc.

On the roof. - M

Finding some shoes and Marc's tan hoodie, you grabbed your phone, realizing Marc had sent you the same message via text, just in case.

A few minutes later, you made your way out to enjoy the chilly but decently sunny day. A rare treat indeed.

"Hey there," you sweetly greeted, walking up beside Marc, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. "Where's your jacket? It's cold."

He glanced over at you, smirking. "You're wearing the one I like. Looks better on you anyway."

Even though Marc was a little taller than you were, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders as if it might warm him up.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled, already a bit cheered up by your presence.

"I'm protecting you. Like I said, it's cold."

Glancing down at you, he shook his head, amused, while his heart flared with adoration. You were always taking care of him in one way or another. He could never deserve you.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, folding you close. "There, now I'm warm."

"Good," you returned, nuzzling into his neck.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, rubbing up and down your back lovingly.

From what little you knew of Jake, you were fairly certain that Marc was the quietest of his alters. It was nice sometimes, to just be together in contented stillness.

But unlike Jake, there was no one in the world you knew better than Marc. And he was neither content, nor prone to remain still for much longer. Itching to prod about what troubled him, you waited longer still. You had learned to wait him out and he had learned to trust you...confide in you.

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a while. "I came up here because I was thinking about...having a drink."

Oh.

Releasing you, as you knew he would after an admission like that, he folded his well defined arms over his chest. "Sorry." He stared out over the city, wondering what you would think of him - of how he kept letting you down.

Matching his pose, you gave him just enough space to confess, while keeping close enough to ground him.

"Sorry for what?"

Huffing out an irritable sigh, he frowned. "You know what. Sorry for wanting to. For...fucking everything up, for letting you down."

"I see," you softly returned. "Is that all?"

Turning his head, he started at you. "Is that not enough? You need a longer list?"

"No," you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the cityscape. "Just asking if there's anything else you're trying to punish yourself for today."

"There's a never-ending, extremely long fucking list," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Where do I even begin?"

Turning your body to face him, you waited a moment for him to calm down. "How about we start with what brought you up here today? Did something happen? Did you talk to Steven? Or Jake? Or maybe Addiction is just being the annoying bitch that Addiction is?"

You could see that he was already relieved to have you facing him, engaging with him. Marc could fight with the empty, thin air if he wanted to, because the person he fought hardest with was himself.

"I did...talk to Jake," he finally confessed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "He, uh...he actually apologized...for what happened in the alley, with Khonshu."

"Okay," you slowly nodded, your heart rate doubling at the thought of Marc and Jake interacting. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Like an idiot," he huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I should have known that Khonshu would never leave us alone." His hands landed on his hips - a trademark Marc-is-annoyed stance. "I should have known it wasn't safe, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" you hesitantly questioned. Surely he didn't mean he was unsafe for you, or Jake was... You started to worry for just a moment, that he would try to do one of those stupid 'you're safer without me' speeches that superheroes were always doing in films.

Like hell. Khonshu could shove his bony beak right up his bony ass. He was not fucking with your engagement, or your life.

Seeing your distress, Marc reached for your shoulders. "Jake saved your life last week," he explained. "Someone was following you home from work."

"He...what?" You gasped. "Who? Jake told you this?"

"Don't know who," Marc replied, his jaw clenching in fury at the thought of anyone even noticing you, let alone trying to stalk you. And to think he had no idea - no inkling that you were in danger... it was unbearable. "Doesn't matter. He's gone now. I just can't believe I let that happen to you and I didn't even realize..."

Releasing you, he paced a few steps away, and back again. Back and forth, punishing himself. For not perceiving that danger still followed him around - followed you. For not being the one to save you. For not recognizing someone else was in his mind, in their body. For being the absolute most useless and pointless of his alters. For all these things compiling and making him want to drown it all at the bottom of a bottle. For being a worthless alcoholic. For being like her...

Marc was the walking embodiment of the phrase, 'that escalated quickly...'

You knew it was bad once he stopped pacing and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead. Steven would probably be joining you momentarily. Or maybe Jake.

"Marc?" You softly called, gently reaching for his wrists to stop him hitting himself in the head. You didn't pull or try to halt his motion, you simply allowed your fingers to circle his wrists. As soon as he realized that his banging motion was jerking your arms too, he stopped, allowing you to hold onto his wrists, rubbing your thumbs carefully over his skin.

"There you are," you soothed, granting him the most gentle smile and pulling his hands down to his chest. "I think you kept this conversation going without me. Probably started telling yourself a whole lot of bullshit...does that sound about right?"

Sometimes you would undercut the most dramatic of his meltdowns with deceptively gentle sarcasm. It always seemed to disarm Marc - your comments showed him your tenderheartedness rather than your slight teasing feeling like mockery. You truly had a gift for it.

You didn't wait for his verbal answer. His silence was compliance. You kept hold of his wrists, there against his chest, and tried to fill in the blanks.

"I'm guessing you're blaming yourself for not knowing everything that's ever going to happen, for not predicting the future, for not knowing every corner of your mind, and for being afflicted with an addiction. Am I close?"

His jaw clenched, this time in anguish, rather than fury.

"You don't...you don't have to do this," he choked, avoiding your gaze. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"Like I hell I shouldn't," you shot back. "I marrying you in 52 days. And on that day, I'm going to vow to love you for better or for worse, in sickness and in health - you know the rest. This is exactly what I should be doing."

"I'm sorry," he brokenly whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I hate it. I hate..."

"What are you like, sweetheart? How is it that you think you should be?"

Marc shook his head, his eyebrows pinched with worry. "I-I don't even have a job or go to school, or always make you smile or feel better, like Steven. I can't even protect you, like Jake. I have nothing to give you. I can't think of one reason to even--"

"Don't you dare," you warned. "Don't you dare compare yourself to them - they are a part of you." Releasing a shaky sigh, you realized then how bad things must have gotten for Marc before he ever even picked up a bottle.

This was deeper than one encounter with Khonshu. He was calling his whole self-worth into question, comparing himself to Steven and now Jake. He hadn't failed you. Maybe you had failed him.

"Look, I don't claim to be any kind of an expert on addiction or DID or marriage," you explained to him. "I only know what I know. When Jake saved my life, you were there. You are a part of him. And-and Steven - his amazing mind is your mind too. This addiction you have - they all have it! I understand you are distinct people, and I respect that. And I don't pretend to know what you're going through or what it feels like to be you, but baby..."

Squeezing his hands, you peered up at him pleadingly. "You were my first love. I knew you first. I loved you first. You are the reason I'm here. And Steven. And Jake. We all love you, Marc and we need you. We're with you. Who else is going to help Steven remember to do his homework? Or make my coffee the way I like it? Or fix the sink every time it leaks?

"Who is going to make me feel like the most special person in the world, make me laugh, make me the best toast for breakfast--"

"Uh, that would be Steven," Marc admitted, his voice softening. "Steven does those things for you."

Thinking back through what you'd just said, you nodded. "True. He does make better toast than you but his coffee-making skills are shit."

Marc cracked a smile. Just a tiny one.

"And you do make me laugh. And make me feel special. Why do you think Steven is the only one who does that?"

"Because...I don't know, because he's so good at it," Marc shrugged, calming down a little more. Your candor was somehow soothing because he never had to wonder where he stood with you.

"Baby, where do you think he gets that from?" You stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to get it. "How many years did you try to protect him, to keep him safe?"

"Yeah, but I fucked that up too," he argued. "He was pissed when he found out about me, remember I told you that."

"Only a first," you reminded him. "But since then, you're literally his best friend. You keep him grounded. And I know it's true for Jake too. You're his moral center."

"Really," Marc scoffed, "then he's fucked."

You rolled your eyes. "You are. From what little I know of Jake, he doesn't seem all that bothered by violence... by doing whatever he feels he needs to do, for you or for Khonshu. Don't you see?"

Marc shook his head.

"When you have to use violence, you hate it, because it was used on you. You've agonized over the lives you've taken, because you value life. What is more morally centered than that?"

Finally releasing your hands, Marc rubbed his face with a long sigh. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this to you. That I was just going to go to a meeting and talk to you after. But...but I thought if I left to go to a meeting that I might stop by the store and there would be a drink, you know, just waiting..."

His hands found their way back to his hips. "What do I do?" He gazed at you as if everything in the world hanged on your answer.

"This," you said confidently. "You take a beat...take a breath, talk to me. Exactly this, baby. Everything you need to be doing, you are doing right now: admitting you're tempted to drink, stopping and thinking first, going to meetings..."

You counted his victories off on your fingers, "Using your support systems, being honest about your feelings, even the really fucking hard ones. This is exactly what you do, Marc. You are literally my hero."

Completely taken aback, his lip trembled. "W-what? No...I-I'm not."

Folding your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes, waiting a beat.

"You're not? Shit. I must have been thinking of someone else then." Cracking a grin, you inched toward him slowly. "You're so damn stubborn, Marc Spector, but you have met your match. Game fucking on."

Reaching for his wrists, still planted defiantly on his hips, you pulled his hands into yours. "Now, is there anything I can do to make you feel better today? I could walk you to your meeting? Or fix you some matzah ball soup? I've been practicinggg," you sang, a little playfully.

Sometimes acting like a dork really cheered up your grumpy fiancé. Maybe it would work.

"Please, god no," Marc laughed out, "it was more like matzah meal sludge. I think I could have built a sandcastle with it."

Giggling, you released his hands, sliding your arms around his torso. "Okay, fair enough. Maybe we'll do something else then."

"Yeah, like what?" He shot back, some of the tension finally draining out of his tense body as he wrapped his arms around your back.

"How about a massage?" You suggested. "You love it when I play with your hair. You could lie down on my lap, relax..."

"You're just trying to get my head between your legs, aren't you?" Marc chuckled, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled innocently up at him. "Always."

"Come on, it's freezing out here," he laughed, guiding you back toward the doorway with his arm around your shoulders.

"Still feel like a drink?" You asked, your candor never ceasing to amaze him.

"Only if you make me eat your matzah ball soup," he teased.

Just him joking was a good thing. And he probably would have you walk him to a meeting later in the day. One step at a time.

"You're really doing it, you know? I'm really proud of you," you sweetly affirmed as the two of you made your way back down to your flat.

"Thank you," Marc evenly answered, after a long silence. He hadn't really been sure how to reply until the two of you were back inside your living room. "For everything."

"One day at a time, my love. Today, you're doing it. You're doing everything right."

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face 

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

[liesmyth]

did john decide which of his friends would be the necromancer and which would be the cavs when he brought them back from the dead, or was that random?

I wish we knew for sure! John's friends ending up 50/50 adepts vs. non-necromancers is obviously one of TM's premises and was done for doylistic reasons first and foremost, but I don't think we have enough elements to conclusively interpret it as intentional in-universe.

Putting aside any kind of authorial intentions, this is what we know:

» The rate of necromancers as part of the population hovers around 30%. John's core group being 50% adepts is way off from that, and could point to manipulation, but also we're working with a very small sample size. Think about how it's very possible to get head five times in a row when flipping coins; probabilities are much less accurate on a smaller scale. I don't believe it's out of the realm of possibilities that a group of 10 people had exactly 5 necromancers in it.

» Harrow's birth. The Reverend Parents made sure she would be a necromancer by manipulating the embryo with thanergy. It's clearly not a known practice among the Houses at large, and John calls it "a sort of Resurrection" — implying that he could be able to do the same with thalergy. However, this doesn't confirm that he actually DID.

In the same conversation, John says, "This was all different before we discovered the scientific principles," which I think is also worth noting. The fact that he understands NOW how you could get an embryo to grow into a necromancer doesn't mean that he had that knowledge at the time of the Resurrection. It also doesn't mean that the same identical process would apply to making formerly-dead-people into necromancers as they got brought back to life.

It could very well be that necromancy was a generalised side-effect of the Resurrection that affected some people more than others; or it could be that John DID do something different when bringing back some people that conferred them necromantic aptitude. Even if it's the latter, I don't think we can take for granted that 1) it was intentional and 2) he fully knew what the side effects would be.

» Ulysses and Titania. Counterpoint! It's also worth noting that John's "test cases" turned out to be one (1) adept and one (1) non-adept. Like I said above, this could still be a random bi-product of the Resurrection... but given Ulysses and Titania's whole everything, their dichotomy reeks of control group. They are a big point in favour of the "John did it on purpose" column.

Still: I still don't think we can tell for sure that John knew from the moment of Resurrection that he was giving some people death powers, and how that'd turn out in the long run. Like I said above, he could have done something different when resurrecting Ulysses vs. Titania, but it doesn't mean that he knew what would happen.

(Obviously, this argument only makes sense if we assume that Ulysses and Titania were among the very first batch of resurrected. I personally think they were, but obviously it's not confirmed)

» The inner circle. From NtN

I could only trust the inner circle. My scientists, my engineer, my detective, my lawyer, my artist, my nun, my hedge fund manager. My diehards. The ones keeping the lights on.

Putting aside the fact that Lyctors exist the way they are because Tamsyn needed them to exist, and looking at the Canaan House necro/cav pairings from John's point of view: why not give ALL his friends magical powers? That's something I struggle to wrap my head around, for about half a dozen different reasons.

Mind, I don't think John picking and choosing who gets to be a necromancer is that far-fetched, but from a #character point I find it less likely than the alternative (he didn't do it on purpose but turned it to his own advantage). IF it turns out to be canon, I'd be really curious about what the watsonian reasoning for it, beyond "this needed to happen."

Most meta posts I've seen that take for granted John picked and chose his future necromancers ascribe him a level of foresight, knowledge, and long-term planning that I simply don't think he'd have had at the time (not to mention the mental lucidity). To quote HtN John again, "[he] had never been God" before. I truly think he was winging it at least 60% of the time.

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - John 1:20

i honestly hadn’t considered that John would have access to a bunch of other info, like the FTL planning to leave everyone behind, via the politician he’s puppeting around. he’s practically running the government of this unspecified country at this point. i mean i guess it was good practice for everything he’d later end up doing as Emperor 

‘I’ve got plans for that arm’ um. what. y'know what i really really don’t want to even know

for a guy who keeps saying he didn’t want to nuke anything he’s reallyyy leaning into the nukes every chance he gets

something i find very interesting is that John possibly also has powers besides necromancy that he’s seemingly glossed over a lot? even though they’re very toothy, he can apparently grow roses, and earlier C— talks about him potentially stabilising the North Glacier like that’s something he could definitely do. i wonder if it is actually possible to use thalergy, the life energy stuff, which really never gets mentioned that much tbh, in a similar way to thanergy?

ok how on earth is ‘Cows exhibit mourning behaviour for other cows’ such a goddamn impactful line. like its a really chilling moment of John confirming that he’s willing to start a nuclear war rather than let the ships leave. and it’s also objectively fucking ridiculous

John’s reflection here on his friends doubting him, and how ‘People don’t forgive, not really’ is very interesting considering his actions at the end of HtN, where he asks Augustine if they can have a ‘fresh slate’ in the wake of him killing Mercy. idk really what i’m trying to say here, but i do wonder how much John really meant what he was offering there 

well what with Ianthe, Harrow, and Kiriona, John certainly took M—’s remark about recruiting teenage girls in the next cult to heart

what i’m personally choosing to take away from this chapter is that multitasking is the true villain of the Locked Tomb universe. get some sleep and stop trying to do six things at once kids, or you might just end up nuking the entire earth

‘I can’t Sister. It’s too big’ i’m quite frankly a little disappointed that John didn’t take the opportunity to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke here

holy crap, the nun shooting herself is certainly a moment. this is really leaning into the eldritch horror of what it would be like to be a human and aware of the Earth literally screaming at you

there’s such a tragic contrast between M— literally begging in her last moments for them not to shoot John vs Mercy being the one to kill him & John killing her so horrifically in return

John’s been essentially levelling up in necromancy as all of these chapters have progressed, but it’s a truly horrifying level of power he displays here. it’s not even the nukes that end up killing a lot of people, because John points out that he was able to just straight up snap the necks of about half of the entire world population

so much about this chapter is just walking the line between absurdist comedy and abject horror, but there is something just so … viscerally disturbing about the mental image of John literally just eating dirt as he consumes the soul of the Earth 

THIS is where the Barbie comparison comes in??? this?! John modelled a body for the remains of the soul of the partially-absorbed soul of the earth after BARBIE?!! talk about taking Barbieheimer to a whole new level

‘I drank them in, and it wasn’t enough’ someone better at comedy than me has probably made a very Hungry Caterpillar joke about this chapter 

‘You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar’ DUDE. ok i stg i made the Hungry Caterpillar annotation immediately before i read like the next page and saw this 

‘I picked you to change [...] I still love you’ well, there’s some form of answer about how John actually got his necromancy in the first place. there’s something so awful about being a human being given powers you just straight up can’t really comprehend by a being so much bigger than you out of love 

the message reads ‘THE/TOWER/HAS/REACTIVAT’. at this point i can’t really think of anything else it could say other than ‘reactivated’. and given this is the chapter where John describes himself as becoming God, there’s something very poetic about the chapter heading being John 1:20, in which John the Baptist confesses that he isn’t the Messiah

[livwritesstuff]

this is an edited repost of something I wrote last year for the 10-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School (now 11 years today). to say the least, it’s a difficult day for a lot of people, including me. i wrote this all in one go just as a positive outlet for the things this day evokes and i went back and forth on if i would post it, but i know i’m not the only one who has been affected by these events. if you’re someone who finds this day to be a hard one, this one is for you.

tw: references to gun violence and school shootings

It’s late morning in December 2012 and Steve is watching the news. He isn’t really paying attention to the current segment about opiate use, too busy being completely annihilated in Words with Friends by his eleven-year-old, who just played the word ‘jinxes’ for 23 points, the bastard.

He’s mid-way through sending Moe a text (“get off your ipod you’re in class”) when the channel’s Breaking News intro interrupts the interview that he’d been ignoring. He looks up to see that the headline has changed.

Steve sees shooting, and then elementary school and feels his heart jump into his throat the way it does any time he hears sirens when his daughters or his husband aren’t home – not because he really believes it’s for them, but because it could be. There’s always a chance it could be.

And he’s got two kids in elementary school right now.

He makes himself read the headline in full – it clarifies that the school is in Connecticut, nowhere near him and his house and his children’s schools in the Massachusetts suburbs, but it does little to remedy the panic that has his heart going a mile a minute.

Steve sits for a while, eyes glued to the TV as the anchor slowly ad-libs, clearly waiting for any new scrap of information.

On the first commercial break, Steve checks his phone. He’s got one text – from Moe telling him to play another word in their game. He responds back with the message he’d written before he’d become fixated on the news.

On the second one, he texts Eddie, tells him he loves him and asks if he’s heard what’s going on (he knows he probably won’t get a response for a while – Eddie is notoriously bad at checking his phone and that’s when he’s not in a meeting he’s been looking forward to for weeks, as is the case today).

By the third, they’ve learned the school is on lock-down, but not much more.

Everything he hears after that is nothing short of harrowing, and leaves Steve feeling sick to his stomach.

Eddie finally texts him a couple hours later, after the news anchor has been switched out for another, to say his meeting ran late (an actual director had reached out to him saying she was interested in adapting one of Ed’s books into a movie – today was the day they got to talk in person) and he hadn’t known any of this was going on, but he’s on his way to pick up Hazel from her AM kindergarten session.

Steve’s day continues. He makes lunch, he finishes some laundry, he responds to emails, always with one eye on the news. His shock at what was occurring mere hours south of his home, subsides, slowly replaced with a dull horror because he’s seen a lot of things in his forty-six years of life, but nothing like this. One by one, his three girls return home from school and he hugs each of them like he always does, but today it’s a little tighter.

It’s a Friday, and Friday night is movie night in the Harrington house. It’s Robbie’s night to choose (she picks Spy Kids, like she does every time she gets to pick the movie since it came out last year). Before they start, Steve and Eddie tell their kids what happened. They do their best to find an explanation that is sufficient for ever-precocious Moe, but not too much for Hazel, their sweet kindergartner who only just turned six. Once the movie starts, they all pile under the same blanket, and where there’s usually fidgeting and arguing and occasionally having to pause the movie altogether to wipe tears and wait on a time-out because someone weaponized a foot or an elbow after they weren’t given the big bowl of popcorn fast enough, tonight there is quiet and stillness.

The next day, the girls are back to their normal, bickering selves, but Steve still can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest every time he thinks about what happened the day before. He starts to get that itch in his brain, the same itch he'd felt after he ran out of the Byers’s house in 1983, after he turned back and saw those Christmas lights flickering, the itch where he’s gearing up for a fight.

As the months go on, Steve finds himself reading into gun control laws, finds himself with multiple non-profits fighting for them bookmarked on his computer, finds himself following politics for the first time in his life as he watches bill after bill get shut down by both sides of the debate.

Honestly, Steve isn’t sure why he cares so deeply about this – and not just what happened in Connecticut, but the issue of guns and gun safety in general. It’s not like he hasn’t fired a gun before. It’s not like he’s never seen their value (he still remembers that drive to the War Zone so many years ago). It’s not like he hasn’t ever felt safer with someone nearby wielding one, even if that someone was Nancy Wheeler.

Maybe he’s a little too familiar with children being the casualties in a war they didn’t choose to start, didn’t choose to fight in, and if that had made him angry at nineteen, he’s irate now, now that he has a six-year-old like the students in that classroom in Connecticut, now that he has an eleven-year-old like El when she escaped that lab in Hawkins.

It wouldn’t be the first time Steve threw himself into a battle that had nothing to do with him, that he knew very little about, because he knows what happens when children get caught in the crossfire of a battle that has nothing to do with them, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sat idly by and watched it happen again.

[purgemarchlockdown]

Mikoto being so heavily associated with the female characters while Kotoko isn't is really intriguing with how he's so heavily sexualized in MeMe and plays into a lot of horror tropes.

The bathtub and the shower scene are common locations in horror, especially for Women. With one of the most iconic horror scenes Ever being the shower scene from Psycho, in which a woman is murdered in the shower.

Not to mention the lyrical pattern of calling back the title of the first MV that all the girls, except for Kotoko, follow. With Mikoto actually calling back to the title of his T1 MV in Double and having it be such an important part of it that they call back to it in the Trial 2 Album. Something originally pointed out by oboetmasuka here and candckirby who also mentions Mikoto's role as the "Final girl" and his consistent pregnancy metaphor with how John is called a newborn.

I think the way Kotoko connects to Masculinity is subtler but just as important, her interrogation question shows she's not attached to it, but she doesn't seem against it or anything.

(Kotoko Interrogations)

T1Q10: What do you think about the word 'feminimity'? A: It's one of the means you can take. It's something you can freely choose depending on the scene, so it's not something to cling onto.

Kotoko doesn't wear anything traditionally feminine but she doesn't lean super masculine either...except.

Okay so, 1moremilgram-enjoyer made this really interesting post about Kotoko's cap you can read here. Basically her cap has the name Jacques Roulet on it's front. Jacques Roulet is the name of a Male Serial Killer who killed two children and claimed to be a werewolf.

This cap appears in her outfit in Harrow:

But also appears in her T2 Design:

Establishing some sort of connection between him and Kotoko.

If we're reading into this Further. John and Kotoko are actually very similar in their want to become someone's "savior" as that's what gives them a sense of purpose.

John's an interesting character in this dynamic. Because if Mikoto is the helpless princess, John is the faithful prince. Coming to save his pitiful damsel whose too weak to protect himself.

(Mikoto T2 VD)

John: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

Mikoto has little to no agency and he Knows This. He doesn't know what's happening, is confused and terrified all the time, and feels like he's on a train with an unknown destination. He feels powerless and like he has no control. While John tries his best to help him, but ultimately harms him, cause John will do what He thinks Mikoto needs without knowing what Mikoto wants. Something he seems regretful for.

Hey, I just wanted to save you So why did it come to this?

However, Kotoko does have some sense of Power and Agency and actively Holds this over others.

From the begin I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!

There's nothing inherently wrong with wanting to present more masculine or feminine. However, there is a problem with enforcing strict and rigid roles onto people, especially if those roles enforce systems of power that allow for the exploitation of groups of people by elevating one group and putting down the other.

Even if the gender roles the two fit in are flipped, it is still playing into unhealthy ideals of gender and society that perpetuate abusive systems of power.

(Utena Scripts)

Voice:  Was the ring from the prince meant as an engagement ring? Voice:  That part was good, Voice:  but because of the strength of her admiration for the prince, Voice:  the princess made up her mind to become a prince herself! Voice:  But is that really good for her?

(I got it in!)

I think I might have to wait for Deep Cover's MV to release to fully discuss this, but this is really curious to me.

[bitch-butter]

i've had it: a Web-focused analysis of episode 8

my babes, my babes, what can I say?

Over the years I’ve seen a lot of people saying that in “The Patrol” aka “The Last Patrol” Web is depicted as “trying to get himself taken off the patrol ”. Many long years I have rested, but now i have, in all essences, Had It with that take in light of my recent brush with death (not really, but it adds some gravitas right?).

It's Everybody's right to their own opinion, but I am here to host a Formal Rebuttal of this pervasive interpretation, because I never (even in my pre-webgott days) read That Scene as such, and I feel that this reading makes even Less sense within the full portrait of the episode. I will defend my stance with appropriate screengrabs, but unfortunately due to Max being made singularly of butts and capitalist dupes I am not able to screengrab anything that isn’t already grabbed or put on Youtube. I have much, but not Everything, so bear with me.

(This will not be a litigation of why the episode chooses to detract in myriad ways from the historical record, but suffice it to say that this episode makes a lot of choices re: who was on the patrol, why they were on the patrol, and who showed up when that are not Exactly accurate but does suit the story that they were endeavoring to tell. I’ll leave it at That.)

So, let’s get into it.

I. What is this episode about?

I spoke “briefly” but not that articulately about why episode 8 is my favorite episode on my good friend Sarah’s podcast last year, and I still stand by many of my reasons for doing so, but I’d like to highlight one element in particular. 

This episode is coming hot off of the heels of one of the most harrowing episodes we’ve seen up to this point, “The Breaking Point”, and in that episode we see not only exactly what it has cost our guys to be in the Bois Jacques for so long, but we also see how this has in many ways made their bonds with each other even closer. They leave that conflict feeling tired, overworked and underfed, and incredibly protective of one another, and because we the audience got to see that we in turn feel protective of them as well.

Which is why I find the choice for Web being the main protagonist of the episode so inspired. 

We are thrust immediately from this harrowing experience, as well as the lived-in dynamic with our main guys, into following a guy who disappeared from the show entirely in episode 5, which not only makes us suspicious of him but it runs up against our instincts to bond with our protagonist. We know immediately, even if we’re on a first or second watch, that Web was not in the Bois Jacques because of the visual language used to characterize him as well as his own opening narration, and as such we immediately don’t want anything to do with him because we too feel protective over our guys who were in the actual fight and we don’t want to waste our time with guys who don’t get it. 

Trust and belonging. Those are the core themes of the episode in my opinion, and we see it with several characters (Lt. Jones and Web are in much the same boat because they have no trust and they don’t belong and so they have to earn them both back; Vest is trusted but he doesn’t belong not only because he’s not a guy the audience is that familiar with but because his job in the context of the show removes him from being that close to our core group). The episode is as much about those things as it is also about combat weariness, how our main guys are acclimating to the idea of the end being near, as well as the ultimate brutality and inhumanity of war on a micro level (Web’s ending monologue is a great example of this, and read in conjunction with Sink’s decision to try and send the patrol out again is a pretty good indictment of the depersonalized and mechanic way war works for a lot of people). 

So, in essence, this episode is about getting the other guys, as well as the audience, to trust Web. 

II. Web is a Good Character (you guys are just Mean)

How do you get the audience to trust your character (even if they don’t like him)?

They manage to accomplish this at least in part by trying to show us that even if his plans are lackluster his intentions are good, such as his initial - albeit inappropriate - happiness at greeting everyone, his reveal of who was being initially selected for the patrol, and his successful attempt to get Malarkey taken off the patrol. We see a few times that his actions have consequences, but for the most part we are able to Understand the train of thought that informs the choice. He sees that the other guys are distrustful of him and no longer want him around due to his absence from the previous episodes, something that clearly throws him off balance, and so we can progress through episode 8 with his primary motivation being to get the core group to trust him again and as such regain his sense of belonging.

We see it right away in the episode, where he greets the other guys only to be quickly dismissed and chastised for assuming a familiarity that is no longer there, and again we can infer from Eion Bailey’s performance that he not only understands that he’s made a mistake but is already internalizing that his decision to remain at the hospital was most likely the incorrect decision. 

This goes directly into the motivation for telling his fellow platoon members that some of them have been selected for a patrol that most likely will be disastrous, which we can clearly see he doesn’t want to do but does in order to attempt to gain his footing back within their ranks. 

This isn’t entirely successful, as the other guys seem to read it more as Web being first annoying at not wanting to tell them and then secondly unreliable because he told them in the first place. And again, we can read in Bailey’s performance that he quickly realizes that regaining his standing is not going to be as simple as he thought that it would be. 

His next attempt at ingratiating himself is tied inextricably to the issue at hand. To reiterate, we the audience as well as our characters of interest have become protective over one another in the wake of the previous episode, and one of the characters who comes out of “The Breaking Point” particularly fragile is Malarkey. We have context for his emotional placement that bleeds out from the previous episode, and a lot of visual weight is given to the fact that Malarkey in particular is exhausted, depressed, and would benefit heavily from a brief respite from being on the front lines. Other characters express this sentiment In Webster’s Direction, and in search of another way to endear himself to the rest of the platoon he sets out to kill two birds with one stone by i. Getting Malarkey off the patrol ii. Getting Lt. Jones the experience he needs to hop up the ranks and go away. 

This attempt is successful, but backfires again when Martin is placed in charge of the patrol instead of Jones. It is possible Web should have anticipated that due to the other man’s inexperience they wouldn’t have let him lead it to begin with, but we the audience should ideally still be interpreting at least the initial intention of the decision to be a good one. He sees that the other guys want Malarkey off the patrol, so he gets Malarkey off the patrol.

This brings us to the moment in question.

III. Let’s Break it Down: Part Un

INTERIOR - A ROOM IN lol i’m joking but what if i did do it like that 

It is quickly revealed that Web’s plan has failed, at least in part. Martin has been appointed to lead the patrol, and is clearly no more eager to do it than anybody else is (except Lt. Jones), and Web clearly looks remorseful towards putting him in Malarkey’s place.

In an act of revenge he appoints Web to be translator, and Web is also not that jazzed about it but appears to accept it with a Tiny Little joke. 

The scene progresses to planning the attack, and we get a few visual cues to indicate that this is a no good very bad idea and everybody hates it before the meeting ends and we hear Liebgott make a jab at Web’s attempt at a joke re: his German capabilities, to which Web gives my favorite reaction in the whole episode where he clearly wants to look directly at the camera like he’s on The Office and clowns his way out of the room.

Hard cut to everybody leaving the building, with a few of our guys in the background as Web moves into the foreground away from them (he wants to be with the cool kids but he’s Not one of the cool kids). We hear but don’t entirely see Grant saying the line “Webster. Tries to get out of everything”, but it’s loud enough that we can assume Web himself also hears this, and he has a small moment of looking back at them in response before he advances to address the officers. 

He points out that both he and Liebgott speak German, and we the audience infer that having the two guys who speak German on the same patrol would be a bad idea because both of them could get taken out and then the company would be shit out of luck. Speirs is quick on his feet, and as Liebgott, Grant, and Jackson pass by he stops them and tells Liebgott he can sit this one out. Liebgott accepts, winks at Web, and gives him a joking thanks. 

Web gives him a tiny half-smile, thanks the officers, and walks away, clearly not loving the fact that he’s going but not appearing resentful.

FINIS

That’s the scene of the crime. So, with this narrative context, let’s get to our second suspect.

IV. The Liebgott of it All

In black and white terms, the principal Antagonist to our Protagonist in this episode is Liebgott, even if we can all agree he’s a king and Web is Himself. 

In Web’s intro to the episode he’s the character we see giving him the hardest time about being away from the company, when Web is gearing up to spill the beans about the patrol Liebgott is the one stirring the pot, and in the patrol meeting he’s the one making fun of Web for downplaying his German. Liebgott gets more weight in this episode than he has in any previous episode, and we are meant to extract from their numerous interactions that even if Liebgott is a guy that has been mostly on the fringes throughout the show up to this point he is going to be the one that makes the ultimate decision about whether or not Web will be accepted back into the group. 

We have an automatic trust for Liebgott because we’ve seen and known him from the very first episode, he’s had individual moments sprinkled throughout the show, and narratively we’ve mostly seen him displaying his competency, humor, and principles. These are all things that the audience is missing in a relationship with Web, so like the other guys we’ll trust Liebgott’s assessment of Web more than we’ll likely trust Web’s intentions at face value. This gets tricky, because Liebgott is not immune to his own pettiness, and even if he Was capable of reading Web’s actions in good faith he is still going to have reservations because up to this point we have no reason not to think that Web stayed out of the fight On Purpose. 

So, Liebgott gives Web a ton of shit throughout the episode, and the audience can take that as an indication that Web is not worthy of regaining his place in the group. Web also seems to realize this. If he wants to be back in the mix the person he’s really going to need to impress is Liebgott. As it goes on Liebgott’s exact intentions with Web are a little dubious, because at some points he does seem to internalize that he may be being too harsh or too resistant on Web. After Web gets outed as having told the other guys about the patrol Liebgott appears reserved, not taking pleasure in his embarrassment.

And after hearing Chuck’s pivotal line we can hear Liebgott brush it off with a “whatever” as he clearly looks towards Web in the foreground.

There are things at play in regards to how Liebgott is feeling about his own pettiness towards Web, but whatever reservations he has are not powerful enough up to this point that we take too much notice. 

This, Web’s knowledge of it, as well as the throwaway line from Chuck, all inform the decision to approach the officers after the patrol meeting.  

V. Let’s Break it Down: Part Deux (boogaloo électrique)

What We Know: Web is ostracized from the group and is trying to get back in, Liebgott in particular doesn’t want Web back in the group because he’s missed a formative event for the company and feels he doesn’t deserve it, and there’s a patrol that nobody wants to go on because They’re Tired looming in the distance. 

With what we know (above), what we know happens in the scene (see part III), who these characters are plus their narrative intentionality (parts II and IV), and what the episode is presumably supposed to be about (part I), gives us a pretty clear indication of what Web’s intentions are when he approaches the officers. Web wants to be back in the group, Liebgott is the one he has to convince, and to put a cherry on top he clearly hears Chuck talking smack by saying he tries to get out of everything. 

He prompts the officers by pointing out that Liebgott speaks German as well, and we Must assume he does this with the understanding that there’s no way they would take him off of the patrol over Liebgott. 

Though we’ve seen Web make plans and have them backfire we can’t infer that he’s that stupid just based on what the show has told us about Web thus far. Socially awkward? Yes. Stupid? Not really. 

There would be no way he’d think they would take him off and keep Liebgott on, and he already approaches with the knowledge that if he does earnestly try to remove himself from the patrol that would forever damage his standing in the company and he would never, ever be able to get back in with the core group. You know, that thing that’s motivating everything he does in the episode. 

It wouldn’t make sense in any measure for Web to be going up to them trying to get himself removed. It wouldn’t flow with his actions in the episode, his motivations, Liebgott’s mini-arc of excluding him, and it certainly would not serve the overarching themes of the episode which are Trust and Belonging. 

The perfect button to this conflict is the wink that Liebgott gives Web after being told he can stay behind. There’s a brief moment where he Just looks at Web, and there’s a definite understanding that moves between them that this isn’t the end of the road for Web’s attempts to get back in but that an Important Step has just been taken. 

Web gives him that half-smile, accepts that his work is not done, and they move to their separate corners. 

The culmination of these sort of swirling themes comes during the patrol, when we get a few different moments of Liebgott waiting across the river displaying clear alarm at what he’s seeing. 

Given our context for Liebgott in this episode, and his primary relationship within it being with Web, we can assume this is the moment his feelings about letting Web back into the fold turn. He sees Web took him off the patrol, is now in a precarious position, and as we’ve had a few flashes of his backtracking his own pettiness towards Web we can assume this is the final straw. 

He was fine holding out on Web up to this point, but he doesn’t actually want anything bad to happen to him just because he indirectly influenced Web into proving himself (even if Web was always going to be trying to prove himself). 

So with the completion of the patrol two big things have occurred: Web has weathered a harrowing experience that cost the life of a beloved member of the company and as such got a small, small taste of what the rest of the company experienced in the Bois Jacques, and Liebgott has come to accept that Web’s intentions are good and he can be trusted again.

After this occurrence we see that at least as far as the other guys in the group Web is - for the most part - accepted back. Martin defends him against Cobb, and in that we can assume that the heavy lifting portion of Web's attempts to rejoin Easy have been successful. But the main character that Web, as well as the audience, is interested in is Liebgott. He's presented the greatest barrier to acceptance, and a lot of weight has been placed on he and Web's dynamic in the episode, so we have to wait and see how he will react to Web's newfound acceptance.

That leads them both perfectly to the end of the episode, where our visual cue to this is given: Web approaches the transport, Liebgott offers him his hand, Web takes it. 

Poetic Cinema.

Web has regained trust, and once again he belongs.

VI. I've Had It

I own the fact that I’m feral about this episode and for the most part people don’t seem to like it that much, which is fine and I’m not here to convert anybody. Additionally, I own the fact that Web is my son and I think he’s hilarious and everybody else thinks he’s The Worst. However, I just don’t think that This particular criticism holds much water when we give it the actual reading that we’re meant to be giving it with the weight of the narrative, what we’re being told about individual characters, and the overall themes of the episode. 

The truth is the truth, and we can’t All be champs. 

Lol jk bc truly if you feel as strongly about this as i do (which seems doubtful lol) I am not anti-debate and I would welcome hearing why people seem so Deeply convinced of Web doing all of this just to try and get himself taken off the patrol. 

(Answers I will Not accept are the kind that use Web being annoying as a basis for a read on his character motivations because girls that’s Not It.)

And so it is ~

[paradoxcase]

The Unwanted Guest

I wonder why this is formatted as a play. Because Palamedes is forced to play a role while in a space Ianthe has control over? I love that Ianthe has conjured up this whole elaborate setting with multiple servants that are also all Ianthe

I originally thought the seven coffins were for the seven OG Lyctors, or maybe there are seven because Dulcinea is here, but that's my best guess. There's a ton of Significant Numbers in this story, but I don't think Ianthe is associated with seven in any way. And I'm sure the changing orders and which ones were used as set pieces, etc. are all just a red herring, right?

It's in a higher register, which is naturally associated with upper class/rich people, and thus all the connotations you'd normally attach to things having to do with rich people. I don't think there's really anything more to it than that. There are high-register ways of being rude, but I don't think this is actually one of them. If you are immersed to a certain degree in this kind of upper class culture yourself, I think it probably wouldn't sound the way he's describing it here, which might be why Ianthe disagrees with this analysis

See, this is how you be rude in a high register

Ok, I'm not able to work out what the two non-yes/no questions would be here

I respect this story's commitment to portraying necrophilia as the typical variety of naughty sex

I mean, her whole life is lies, pretty much - the lies she engineered about Corona, originally, and now she's also lying about being loyal to John, and possibly about being friends with Gideon, and she wasn't genuine with Augustine either, etc. She just kind of runs on lies

Wondering again how Camilla survived this, and also why there is all this emphasis on sexual reproduction there when I think it's been established that they do everything artificially now?

It's honestly kind of a shit argument on both of their parts. I don't think he actually goes on to show that souls can be diminished, either - I think he proves that souls can be augmented and/or combined, but I don't think he shows that they can be diminished, or that the souls that Lyctor eats degrade over time. I could imagine a possibility where souls can be augmented or combined, but not diminished, or where souls can be diminished, but souls consumed by a Lyctor for some reason aren't. I don't think all of these things are necessarily tied together

Ok, but that actually sounds legitimately hilarious

Is this like an Ace Attorney reference or something

I mean, he wasn't loyal enough to go quietly when Ianthe wanted him to die, if we can take her initial inability to get his soul under control as any indication, although since both he and Corona were there to stop her I'm kind of curious how that went down, now? It's interesting that sewing and mixing drinks were part of his skillset, he already sounds more interesting than Ianthe is claiming, haha

Something tells me this is either a lie, or Ianthe is just wrong

Why is it not "safe" to choose an already qualified person to be the cavalier? Is it just that they won't have total control over them then?

I was going to ask how Palamedes knew that Ortus got blown up, but then I remembered that Gideon told him about this when she went to tell him about Protesilaus's head in Harrow's closet. But now I'm kind of curious what Harrow told Ianthe about Ortus - she obviously told her something, because Ianthe recognized his name when she started using it around her, but maybe she didn't tell her about the shuttle blowing up. Also, Ortus was also chosen to be Harrow's cavalier basically from birth, if we're to understand that he was chosen primarily because his father was Harrow's father's cavalier. So that's actually an example of when that system doesn't work

Yeah, that was pretty funny. But has Dulcinea ever actually met Babs? According to Judith, she was confined to the Seventh because she wasn't well enough to go elsewhere, and none of the other scions had met her in person. Even Palamedes and Camilla never met her in person. And Babs wasn't in Harrow's Canaan House River bubble, either, probably on account of his soul being inside/part of Ianthe at that point. So how does she know what he was like, to be making a joke like this?

This whole sequence where she fences with these attendants which are really all just her is a very playing chess with yourself sort of thing, especially since she just disqualifies most of them. But I guess that's part of sort of being Babs, right? Rigid adherence to dueling rules

I just want to point out that this is after she exchanged friendship bracelets with Gideon. I don't know if she is lying to Palamedes here, or was lying to Gideon, or maybe both? Or maybe she thinks Gideon has had a level-up as Kiriona but is fine with trash-talking original Gideon?

So, that's from Hamlet, and it basically means that if everyone got what they deserved, everyone would be punished, in response to Palamedes saying that Babs doesn't deserve all this monkeying around with his body. But how does Dulcinea know Shakespeare?

So she did die again in Harrow's River bubble, and then something full-of-awe happened, and now she is on the far side of the River. I guess to add to the other unanswered questions from the last post, we now have "what's on the other side of the RIver?" From my perspective, it sounds like the far side is probably heaven, and the River itself may be Gehenna, or maybe Purgatory, from a Christian perspective?

Who is "her" here? Is he referring to what Cytherea said to him at the end of Gideon the Ninth?

This is from the bible - I think a description of an angel, maybe? So again, how does Palamedes know this quote?

Oh please, Ianthe, by the time you became a Lyctor, five other people had died, and Protesilaus had turned out to be dead the whole time

You know that now, but there's no way you knew that at the time. Harrow certainly didn't know that, or else she would have realized that her plan to remove Gideon's soul wouldn't work because she still needed Gideon's sword abilities, and I don't think you are actually smarter than Harrow

Dude, you spent literal months on the Mithraeum training with Augustine to improve your fighting abilities

I think the answer is the latter, but I'm interested to see if that turns out to be true

So even if she'd said "No" he still would have lost. He'd have left voluntarily if she'd said "no I actually have no idea where Babs is". He was gambling on her not even knowing whether she knew or not

I'm not sure why this allowed him to win control of the body. Did Ianthe just have a revelation and check out for a bit? I think it maybe says interesting things about why she was so worried that the same thing that happened to G1deon and Pyrrha would happen to her if she died - maybe she thought that she would somehow become Babs after death because of this conversation she had with Palamedes? After Palamedes and Camilla combined into Paul, Paul told Ianthe that there was still hope for her and Babs - did they mean that Ianthe should completely merge with Babs' soul like they had just done? I don't feel like that would have been an attractive proposition to Ianthe at all. Or were they just sort of acknowledging that Babs was still there?

I think this really raises the question of how Pyrrha and G1deon were so separate, and had different experiences from each other - G1deon didn't know that Pyrrha was even still around, and he didn't remember anything that she did in his body. I can believe that Pyrrha having an affair with Wake probably caused G1deon to have an affair with Wake, but like, I would have expected him to have some idea of inkling of what Pyrrha had been up to and not just thinking that he had inexplicable gaps in his memory for some reason, if this is really how it works

I think it probably is significant that the last unopened coffin is #3

So what is actually going to happen next?

Alecto has returned to the Mithraeum with Harrow. Ianthe and Gideon will probably wind up back there, too, possibly with Corona and/or Judith in tow, since I'm guessing that Ianthe won't return without Corona and Corona won't go without Judith. Maybe Harrow and Gideon will have an actual social interaction again, which hasn't happened for almost 1000 pages of book now. The Sixth House oversight board and possibly Paul are probably going to join the Sixth House and may not be in the next book at all, although I'm not entirely sure that Paul can navigate the River on their own without Nona/Alecto. Presumably Aiglamene remains on the Ninth and likewise is not in the next book, I think the Ninth has exhausted all of its plot potential as a location at the point, maybe? God only knows where Pyrrha, Pash, Aim, and Noodle are going to wind up, I'm still not sure why Aim volunteered to come to the Ninth, exactly. If Pash somehow winds up on the Mithraeum, though, that has the potential to be hilarious

[pillarsalt]

You’re very brave, I think most of us would just leave and say nothing rather than stand up and be the lone voice of honesty. I admire you. Nobody saying shit is how it got so far.

Thank you for saying so, anon, but I'd save your praise until we see how long it takes me to work up the gonads to actually do it. I want to find the opportunity to have a serious one-on-one conversation with this friend, though I also feel like having it in front of some of our less internet-saturated mutual friends could implant some doubt in their minds too.

But your last sentence is the main reason I don't want to stay quiet. The culture on the left around gender issues is a false assumption of agreement, because the people who disagree are too scared to voice their opinions. Any time I want to choose to just shut up and keep going along with it, (which I admit I did for a number of years, especially to get through college,) I remember that just going along with it is how we got to the point where, in the province I live in currently, there are imprisoned women with histories of CSA being forced to live, sleep, and shower with violent men who are convicted child rapists. And as uncomfortable and upset as this situation is going to make me, it's jack shit compared to what they are being forced to endure.

I've now read and listened to so many words from people who have had to speak up on various contentious issues and lost friends and opportunities because of it, and it's been really fascinating, and sometimes harrowing, to see the different ways people cope with ostracization from their social groups. I've seen people who find healthy outlets and rebound quickly, making new connections and finding fulfillment through working towards goals. I've also seen people try to sooth themselves by slipping into coping mechanisms that hurt them even more, and sometimes they're shepherded into groups that take advantage of their vulnerable state, lashing out at the wrong people or losing faith in humanity entirely.

But it doesn't have to be the end of the world. It sucks and god, it's so much easier to tell a lie instead of a hard truth. But the more of us that do, the easier it becomes for the next person, and hopefully one day, none of us will have to lie at all.

edit: oh yeah and I watched Twelve Angry Men for the first time last night, which is a good film for inspiring courage in yourself when you have to choose your principles of justice over convenience and popularity.

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on the unwanted guest and Ianthe in general:

I did NOT expect that this is when they were fighting in the body!!! that's so awesome

Pal already asked more than five questions before scene 4. so Ianthe couldnt actually refuse his questions? or she doesnt care what they talk about, as long as it strays away from Babs?

and uhhhh, why the hooded figures? I mean I got spoiled that the setting is the Ninth House, but I mean why the Ninth House? she never really showed much interest on it, and the whole setting she conjured up herself if I have to guess

and the more I read about Ianthe the harder it is for me to remember that I have not gotten over her lying about the corpse under the bed but that she's so hot I am immune to bad bitches I support woman's wrongs

actually I don't see other people fussing about it. but IMO I think it's the shittiest thing she does in the plot (I mean she did eat someone but isn't that the whole point they were there? ok that's not an excuse but whatever I don't think she's terrible for doing it) and the only thing that makes me actually dislike her and not admire her for her intelligence and wit. but everything else about her is like, phoar

also the famous line

pal: nobody asked

so i guess it means that Harrow-related discussions are safe ground for Ianthe? or is this her manipulation again seeing as the inside of her head looks like the Ninth House is it because she still fantasizes about marrying Harrow?

How did Ianthe find out about Ortus? Gideon told her? How did Pal find out about Ortus???? Cam told him? how did Cam find out? or Dulcie told him? and I can't believe she actually died twice, just to tell Harrow about Gideon...

ok I've finished it, but still no insight as to how true Lyctorhood works. Pal said that the real truth is grafting, transplantation. I still don't get it. the only true Lyctor up to now is John and... wait...actually no, he changed before reviving the earth... I don't understand this.

but I do kinda get who Nona is now, it's Alecto's soul under the influence of not Harrow's soul but her body. Which sure has some interestimg implications...

and tbh I did not understand how Pal just wins because he figured something out that Ianthe did not. or is that exactly the point? and I can imagine Ianthe mmust be grossed out to find that her soul has been "rubbing" with Babs' this whole time and time later

something unrelated(that maybe has a little to do with Babs' soul rubbing off on Ianthe?): when Ianthe walked away from Harrow in the bathroom scene, I do think she knows the significance behind her choice, at least subconsciously. she wouldn't have enjoyed owning Harrow if she choose to approach her anyways. I actually think Harrow wasn't so desolate she might have gone in to check tje scene out of morbid curiousity and maybe to see her naked though I'm not sure if she prefers that over seeing her brain but that's not the point. the point is this is Not how Ianthe imagined that she would take possession of Harrow at all, not by picking up someone else's scraps.

So maybe it was for the best

I think they would both agree.

that after a pregnant pause

the weight of the situation is sinking in on Ianthe

the Princess of Ida said:

why refer to her as such at a time like this? she's putting on a facade

“Wow! Not how I imagined this happening, at all,” and you heard her hasty footsteps retreat,

hasty, maybe she had to tear herself away from the temptation, maybe she's afraid that she'll turn back.

away, back down the corridor whence she came. Then she was gone.

lastly, some stuff about the twins. they need each other. Ianthe needs Corona because she needs Corona's approval. she needs approval and she needs it from everyone and doesnt hide it, but Corona's is the most important. why else would she be happy to downplay her abilities her entire life? she gets off on Corona's worship, I bet her actually body had an orgasm when the remote-control body shuddered.

other stuff about goals and love, and sleeping together are all explicitly expressed in the books, so I'll say no more.

one last thing: I love Palamedes and the relationship between him and Camilla and Dulcinea

[cc-tens]

do you have another oc you’d like to share? Any one you choose would be fine, I just like hearing about them!

About to go so nuclear about my main medic character Quips LOL.

Quips, oh Quips, the one who started this all. My very first and my most beloved Clone OC who I adore so dearly. Literally all my followers are gonna hear about him nonstop once I start actually writing his lore down because I LOVE HIM.

Whenever Quips thinks about who he was and how he acted as a cadet, he viscerally hates who he had been with such a passion, he is very ashamed of who he was before deployment. As a cadet he was extremely apathetic to other clones, often turning his nose towards those who tried to extend bonds of brotherhood and friendship towards him. He was extremely intelligent and very capable as a medical student in the academic sense - although you couldn't tell at first as he often slacked off and didn't particularly care about scoring well - but even a few of his trainers were uncertain about the prospect of him becoming a medic out on the field. He was too clinical, too apathetic, they found him egotistical and disinterested in the well-beings of others and had even noted in his file that he acted like everything was some sort of competitive game rather than a war.

It wasn't until he got a metaphorical slap in the face did he finally realize how real and important his training and future role in the war was. Another cadet named Kipper was injured extremely badly from a self inflicted wound and it was Quips who stumbled upon him and tried saving his life. It was the most harrowing experience Quips had ever been in by that point and it had really put into perspective how serious his role was and he became so intensely dedicated to Kipper in that moment as a medic and also a brother. Unfortunately Kipper was decommed and Quips was hit yet again with the reality and the weight of what pain and death and loss truly means. Afterwards he did a complete turn around, while still remaining emotionally and socially aloof with others - that's just sort of his personality - he suddenly dedicated himself 200% to his field of work and became obsessed with being the best medic possible. He studied hard, in his free time he'd practice modules and repractice them and do them again until he could do them in his sleep, he aced his classes, he started preparing himself in every way he could for what was to come.

Now as a veteran and senior medic in the 212th, he's come a long way and many of his brother's in orange know him and trust him with their lives fully and without doubt. He's worked tirelessly to save lives, thrown his own body onto other's to shield them, has refused to let even some of the worst cases go without his damn best try. Sometimes old vode he knew as a cadet back on Kamino try and give him a hard time, a few even tried to refuse to let him help them as they feared he was the same Quips they knew back in their training days; but he's done nothing but proved himself a different man since. He may still struggle with connecting with others, he's aloof and often never knows how to sooth a vod emotionally or verbally; but he is a presence there, one that says "I'm not fucking giving up on you so you better not either."

He meets Whistle and Caddy after Umbara, letting Caddy collect the body of his dead batchmate Kydd. The trio bond heavily over their losses and the weight of what being a medic means. They become so close, and this is eventually the bond that helps save Quips and Paean post O66 as they help smuggle a critically injured Quips and Paean off Coruscant and to the arms of the Rebellion. Quips after the war spends a lot of his time making informational videos on medical treatments and procedures and distributes them to people who don't have access to full medical data banks, so even outside of the war he refuses to give up his dedication to helping and saving anyone and everyone he can.

[eskawrites]

sports anon got me thinking about a ronance volleyball au so headcanon list let’s go

Nancy is a fiercely clever setter, she can take in the whole court and make a decision in a split second and her precision never falters

she has a rough first couple of years dealing with hitters who can’t keep up with her--and jealous hitters who just want every set to go to them (looking at you, Carol). but once she and Robin start working together she really shines

Robin is an opposite hitter (she’d be a great outside too but i lowkey hc her as a leftie so she’d do great as an opposite, plus the backwards set-spike combo is so fucking beautiful)

a setter who consistently sets to her opposite over her outside would also probably throw people off, at least in shitty midwestern public school leagues (yes this is from personal experience), so Nancy and Robin get a few easy points that way

Robin takes a while to find her confidence on the court. they place her front row because she’s taller than most other girls, but she’s clumsy and nervous during her first year or so. no one hits the net more often than her and yes Nancy yells at her about it at some point

she figures it out eventually though. gets her form down, learns to place herself better, gets better at spatial awareness. and once she starts actually trusting herself to do it right? damn is she powerful on the court

even after Robin and Nancy start getting along more, no one actually thinks they’re that close until Robin rolls her ankle during a hitting drill. she’s coming down from absolutely nailing a back row attack and lands directly on a loose ball. it’s actually really harrowing, watching her go from a perfectly controlled jump to a crumbled heap on the gym floor. but no one reacts more than Nancy, who rushes to her side, already snapping at the freshmen who let the ball roll loose, then turns so gentle as she tries to help Robin. she doesn’t leave her alone until they get Robin off the court and their coach forces Nancy to get back to work

it’s not a serious injury, but Robin does have to sit out for a few games. she does her best to play it down so she can keep playing, but Nancy is the one who calls her out on her bullshit and forces her to rest (this is incredibly hypocritical of her and everyone on the team points it out. Nancy tells them all (except for Robin) to shut up)

Max is libero btw. and she’s constantly covered in scuffs and bruises from diving to get the ball, but damn if she isn’t the best passer they’ve ever had

Nancy only paints her nails before a big game. the color doesn’t matter, but the feeling of the polish itself is just enough to make her more aware of her finger placement, so she makes no mistakes while setting (like she makes mistakes anyway

once they get closer, Robin starts painting her nails for her as a way to help her de-stress before a game

Karen Wheeler is volleyball mom. Ted hasn’t been to a game since Nancy was in middle school but Karen has never missed one. she coordinates meals for the team before away games and follows their summer league with plenty of sunscreen and a cooler full of gatorade

Mike is reluctantly dragged along to a lot of Nancy’s middle school games, and once he gets older he fully intends on never going to one again, but once Max joins the team Lucas makes everyone go to support her and him, Dustin, Will, and El are immediately so into it, so Mike finds himself dragged to all of Nancy’s high school games, too

Robin and Nancy both help run the elementary school volleyball camp in the spring. Holly always goes because her big sister is there, of course she does. but the year Robin and Nancy start dating, Holly chooses Robin as her pepper partner every single day. Nancy tries so hard to be jealous, but she can only barely manage to hide how fond she is

Max and Robin pepper whenever they need to have a serious conversation. it gives them both something to focus on that isn’t the heart-to-heart and makes it easier for both of them to open up

Nancy and Robin practice serving together and they’re super competitive about it. Robin has the best jump serve on the team and she can put so much power into it--she’s great at nailing those back corners. but Nancy has this gorgeous topspin to her serve and she can get the ball to drop almost as soon as it clears the net, so she’s great at putting the opponent setter out of commission. every other team in their district hates both of them

Nancy is so damn hard on herself and takes every loss and even some of their victories really personally. after hard games she’ll sit alone at the front of the bus, curled up against the window, going over every little detail of the game and all the things she could’ve done better

she tries to push Robin away when she tries to sit with her, but Robin just stays quietly by her side. eventually, Nancy will uncurl and lean against Robin a little bit, or they’ll talk softly about it

other times, after better games, Nancy will fall asleep with her head in Robin’s lap, and Robin will play with her hair and hold her in place on windy roads so Nancy can sleep peacefully

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

What is the Tumblr kokobot mental health thing and why does it keep messaging me when I go into various mental health/neurodivergent tags? I'm generally looking for community and I don't appreciate this site deciding I am In Danger. You're a therapist and I feel like you've probably talked about mental health apps before so thought I'd ask

Uuuugh, that thing. I think I blocked it a couple months back. BUT, I'm going to be as fair to it as I can.

The part you and I bumped into is their automated chatbot, which monitors traffic on social media sites to detect people having mental health crises and try to convince them to access mental health support. Apparently their bot got good enough at detecting human behaviour patterns online that they actually spun it off into a separate company for a while and then sold their tech to a corporation, before returning to the mental health idea. They returned to it, critically, as a non-profit, which is why I'm willing to give it a second look at all.

tl;dr: I would not immediately warn everyone away from using it! Which is more than I could say for a lot of Silicon Valley mental health startups. I don't love the current implementation, but I think they might have the makings of a decent mutual aid platform for temporary moments of stress.

Long version below

Like, I was not a fan at all of Trill when Tumblr partnered with it, because I felt that they were using well-intentioned volunteers to do potentially harrowing and dangerous work without adequate training or support. (Or not-so-great volunteers, since I was dubious about their vetting process) And a lot of Kokobot's origin story is in some ways really similar to Trill.

Most of these startups and initiatives mean well. They want to make the world better and help provide comfort and support to people who need that. I admire them for their dedication to a good cause. However, I believe that when you are devoting significant resources to building a system where you ask people to choose you for support in their moments of vulnerability, you cannot put your intentions ahead of their needs.

Like: It is really great that people want to help the less-fortunate. I think it shows warmth of heart to want to go somewhere and build homes for the homeless. But if you've never built a house before, and the houses you build are so poorly constructed that they fall down or catch fire or whatever, and they wouldn't have if you'd put the equivalent amount of money into hiring local out-of-work carpenters to do the work properly, I don't think you should keep operating like that as a charity.

I'm also judging Koko a bit as the former teenager who wanted to help people, in terms of how much they provide guidance and support to the helpers they've recruited.

Finally, I feel the need to remind all of us, as useless as such reminders feel, that if you are not paying for a social media platform, you aren't a customer; you are the product. "Kokobot", the organization, the platform, the AI, are not the core producers of its value. Its users are. Without people in distress to whom to provide support, and without supportive people there in times of distress, it would not exist.

Maybe this will never be an issue. Maybe this conflict will never arise. Maybe the nonprofit organization will be devoted enough to the needs of its userbase that they will serve them faithfully and well. I hope so.

I'm just... jaded, by things I've seen before.

What I don't like at all:

It took me a lot of work to go from looking up Kokobot on Tumblr to understanding how the company worked, what using the app was like, and whether their work was being informed by anyone with a lick of knowledge about mental health care. I still don't know a lot of stuff about how they handle anonymity in situations like imminent suicide or homicide, or abuses of the platform.

Kokobot messaging people out of the blue is creepy as hell. My first response was, "Fuck off, I can TELL you're not ethical." Most ethical guidelines I know of for mental health therapists explicitly forbid directly soliciting clients ("Hey there, I can tell you've got a few issues. Here's my card"), especially when people appear psychologically vulnerable or in distress. The only wiggle room there is when you're working in disaster relief and crisis intervention, but that does not make it an "anything goes" situation.

@kokobot posting lots of testimonials from users about how great their service is. Again, something usually strictly forbidden by ethical standards! When someone has just come to you in distress and you've provided them help, and then ask them to give you a Yelp review, you're not usually going to get thoughtful, measured, and informed feedback. It's a weird power dynamic that might be great advertising, but not great informed consent.

While Koko might be a legit company that does its job well, its presence and behaviour opens up the field of what is acceptable behaviour on social media. If one app can track mental health tags and solicit vulnerable people into joining their group, why not another? What will stop Scientology (which has done this in person for decades) from creating a similar app, pitching it to people in need, and coaching its users to go off all their psychiatric medications and use pseudoscience instead? Where are the safeguards?

What's Not Terrible

Kokobot is clunky and weird, but like I said on my post on Trill, the hardest part of moderation on social media is the amount of labour it takes, and the human cost of that labour. It seems to me that by using AI, Koko might have found an efficient way to automate much of that labour.

I tried out the actual app itself, messaging on Telegram; for my "problem", I just said I was concerned that a friend was messaging Koko a lot and I wanted to make sure it was legit. Sending it out required answers to some pretty vital questions—did I feel hopeful or hopeless about the world? What kinds of best- or worst-case scenarios was I imagining? They were worded in a way that felt human and genuine, and the chatbot was responsive and encouraging before my problem ever got human eyes on it.

(For the record: These are questions that can very quickly give information on whether someone is likely to be a danger to themselves or anyone else, which are really important.)

Then, at the bot's suggestion, I also helped a couple other people, where I was given very rough and ready training on active listening, then coached into writing a response. It avoided a lot of on-ramps to community toxicity, inasmuch as the problems and replies were private and anonymous, and there were instant feedback options if anything was worrying or upsetting.

This process showed what I think was a more sophisticated and useful implementation of AI than, uh....... like 99% of the AI I've seen. This is mostly a statement on the state of AI, but still. Koko seems like the bot's responses were really carefully workshopped and designed by actual humans who knew about crisis intervention and risk assessment.

The replies I got to my "problem" were fairly good, empathetic and genuine. (The bot encourages people to be a little dorky, and seeing an auto-generated response I myself was suggested made me roll my eyes; this could reduce the value for some people.)

I can definitely see the benefit of encouraging people who are feeling distressed to help others. Engaging in peer support encourages empathy, and helps people feel like they've got something to offer, and that problems might be solvable.

In the end, Kokobot is an expansion of the kind of work volunteer-run distress and crisis hotlines do. It has the potential to do a lot of good, but the organization itself has to consider so many other factors and processes than its users do. I sincerely hope it and Tumblr are being extremely thoughtful and careful in how they handle this work.

I would be delighted to be proven wrong, and have them turn out to be totally amazing. I really hope they do.

[the-helena-files]

🕯️Recent Reads🕯️

I wasn't sure if I should do another one of these until the end of the month, but I feel my memory deteriorating, so here we go. There will be no major spoilers for the books, just me yapping.

🎨 Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

I unconsciously created a one classic a month tradition I guess. This one is a classic for good reason, the writing is tasty and interesting, although everytime I had to read Lord Henry's dialogue I immediately considered DNFing it. Speaks to the worldwide experience of having to sit near an insufferable man at an event and have everyone around you act like the guy is a genius for simply not shutting the fuck up. Four Stars.

🗡️ The six Deaths of the Saint by Alix E. Harrow

This short story was recommended to me by everyone and their mothers. I was skeptical, cause it was like, 30 pages, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try. I was wrong and now I'm forever hurt, but in a good way. Five Stars.

👐 Undercover by Tamsyn Muir

I have read the entire locked tomb saga and it's one of my favorite book series of all time, so I saw a short story by Tamsyn Muir and got curious. Inside of this 60ish pages there's everything this author is known for doing: toxic lesbians, undead people and an unreliable narrator. Tmuir is also known for sneaking memes into her books but I couldn't find any in Undercover. Anyway, Four Stars.

🐦‍⬛ Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

For a start, I think it would be important for me to say that I haven't read Shadow and Bone and this was my introduction to the Grishaverse, and I think that was for the best. I really liked the setting and the universe, the characters actually made me care, and the dose of romance was just the right amount. Five Stars.

💐 Perfume by Patrick Suskind

This is a weird and funny book. At least I found it very funny because the situations are yes, very dark, but so absurd I couldn't help myself. If you like reading about nasty and gross people that meet terrible endings, this is a book for you. I heard from a friend that the ending was considered shocking for the time, I particularly though this was the best way a book like this could end. Five Stars.

🐦‍⬛ Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

Sequels of good books always makes me nervous that they won't live up to the original, but this one really feels like a solid extension. I haven't cried over book characters for 7 years. I cried reading this. Five Stars, and I'm debating reading Shadow and Bone.

🌊 Piranesi by Suzanna Clarke

This is a weird one, but in a good way. There is this whole dark academia-esque decades old plot going on behind it, but our main character is just a sweet dude that loves his labyrinth and cares for the skeletons and birds there, he's just vibing. I love him. Four Stars.

I usually don't have any problems giving books a lower rating, but I do pick and choose carefully the books I want to read so I have a higher chance to like them, and this happened to be a really good couple of months. My askbox is open for recommendations, but it might take me some time for me to respond.