#but i did NOT remember the loss of the game being so devastating

[mitskiluvr]

watched the haikyu movie thinking it was going to be normal but unfortunately i came out battered bruised bleeding and 5 years younger, back in 2019 watching haikyu on my couch and trying to get my sister hooked on it

[vero-lynn]

I read you quite often too, and personally I watched MH after Homestuck (let me tell you about...). And I liked the Brim couple, with similar dynamics of relationships as JohnDave, and And as it turned out at the same "end of their communication" . Just like in HS Dave just seemed to forget about the existence of his BEST FRIEND, so here Tim forgot about his BEST FRIEND. And in fact I feel offended, like doubly offended, I can't understand how you can forget something so important.

Tim was a loner, he had no one and nothing (except his mom and daddy long legs, but that's not positive), Brian gave him a lot of good time and even because of amnesia, I don't believe that everything will be forgotten, like best friends are when you have a lot of things, drawings, even clothes, from your friend, this is practically your partner.

And with Dave (like Tim) and John (like Brian) the situation is similar. Dave has no family, only his older brother, who under the influence of the talisman doll made Dave's life hell, constant injuries, hunger, self-loathing and fear of others...in general, he is traumatized enough, and John, his pen pal, became that ray of hope that gave him the strength not to give up. And as friends they also exchanged gifts, Dave's iconic glasses are John's GIFT, and Dave, no matter what kind of damage or fall he gets, he will first of all worry about the integrity of the glasses, so you understand their connection?

And now to what I can't stand, after they entered the game and many actions they are forcibly separated for three years, and here's a surprise, Dave abruptly and without reason stops communicating, yes they are in a difficult situation, but then, when they reach the end, when they see each other without the pressure of threats... nothing, there is no long-awaited reunion, it's like they FORGOT each other...

And why did I connect this, the joke is that after the main events, John ended up in isolation and he slowly got worse and worse, like Brian, and Dave lived an ordinary life forgetting about his best friend like Tim, and I really can't understand how you can forget such an important thing that took up all your time and was VERY important for both of them personally. Even because of the amnesia, but damn, he remembered the hospital, he remembered his entire backstory, he doesn't forget EVERYTHING, it couldn't be that Brian was completely forgotten, and i PERSONALLY think that Tim would not have accepted his friend's removal so easily with his life, it seems to me that he would have clung to the opportunity to get him back. And even knowing that the operator is threatening, I don't think Tim would doesn't care about his friend's health, like Brian LEFT his house and lived in abandoned buildings... it's uugh, i can't when my sweet buns suffer...

Thanks if you read this, but I really wanted to get it out and sorry for the mistakes English is not my native language, so...We like you!

See that's the thing with Tim and his own memory loss. He has another person in his brain altering and blocking memories from him without him wanting to.

He doesn't forget Brian entirely, he wants to see him again, he wants to be with him, he wants to know where he is, but he's not being allowed to by the things around him.

When he's chasing Hoody in entry 83, Brian's face is blocked from his and ours vision TWICE. He takes off the mask and all he sees is a white glitch. TWICE. he's purposely being mislead into thinking this is a STRANGER so he'd leave him for dead.

Masky Is the one who actively worked with Brian/Hoody. Masky knows who's under the mask. Tim doesn't. And he doesn't want to admit to himself that he ever wore the mask in the first place because THAT'S NOT HIM. The moment he knows that it was Brian, he's DEVASTED.

He loves the Brian he remembers, he misses the Brian he remembers, but .. he's powerless in this situation. And Brian knows this as well, he never holds it against him.

[tiniinbookland]

first muddled sunrise on the reaping thoughts while the tear tracks on my face still dry :) (spoilers ahead)

both giggling and also crying about Haymitch saying he doesn't like drinking. god my heart already cried for him there

Lenore Dove being confirmed covey and having og covey present is good! idc what anyone says, i think them being alive and still making music is exactly what you need for resistance - see the hanging tree song obviously. also Clerk Carmine secretly having a boyfriend, ouh my darlings :(

I'm pretty neutral towards Katniss's dad being Haymitch's (best) friend for now, but i do very much appreciate seeing what a guy he was, even though or especially because it makes Katniss's loss so much worse. and her mother's too, considering it's even acknowledged that merchant people don't usually marry miners. and yet she did. i've seen a post about Haymitch being friends with both of them but i wouldn't say he is. is he really friends with the merchants' kids? i think he simply knows them and has his opinions that do or don't get rattled. if we take into account that a) district 12 is supposed to be the smallest, b) they all go to the same school and c) Burdock essentially has the hots for her already, it makes sense that Haymitch knows her to a degree. besides, we see him befriend the tributes later as well, so he appears to be an absolutely likeable young guy which is such a devastating contrast to the man we know he'll become. but anyway

it's so very dear to me that Suzanne Collins continues to take expectations and throw them out the window. even knowing the Captiol tempered with the footage, i don't think it was expected that they started before the games even began. not hearing the main character's name being drawn when we know he'll be in the games is so baffling, i think i might have screamed. and it absolutely fuels the sense of impending doom from knowing what the Capitol can do and knowing what Haymitch's loved ones will see in their future

Maysilee is even more of a shining star than expected. she's so cool actually. i was rooting and clapping my hands for her beating up the fuck ass capitol lady and throwing off the servants and all. chef's kiss, she's incredible. later on as well, caring for the kids and helping them with their tokens and just being so not what Haymitch expects of her. we already knew she's wicked smart from Katniss's assessment of the footage in Catching Fire, but getting in proven tenfold is just so so good

so interesting to see that in the 40 years that have passed since tbosbs, things are still nowhere near as they are by the time Katniss and Peeta's games come around. from the train to the housing to the stylists and training facilities. i expected it to be way more orchestrated already, especially because there are "only" 24 years to to till the hunger games we know, but i suppose it eggs on the idea that they doubled down again on certain aspects now that these absolutely catastrophical games happened

absolutely yelled as the Louelle Clone showed up. no words. absolutely baffling and immediately gruesome once you realise.

i also pretty much yelled about every character we already knew showing up. first of all, i am not immune to fan service. i am a fan and i like being appealed to i guess. but anyway. i liked their roles even though for some I'm not fully sure we needed specifically them for this. but alas, i enjoyed seeing the beginnings of Wiress's state of mind, with her songs and smarts and all. she's so dear to me. and Mags too of course and i suppose it makes sense for her to branch out into different districts considering she's won ages ago and has a) gotten a lot of other district 4 tributes to win and b) remembers enough from the old times to have the natural will to do stuff. as for Plutarch, i didn't expect him and didnt consider him being a movie/tv director at all even though it makes so much sense.

also i just know all the Hayffie girlies (/neutral) are screaming and i did too

while reading the games themselves i kept trying to compare what happens to the footage Katniss and Peeta watched (obviously not knowing we'd get it later lmao) and the difference between knowing the footage has been edited to portray a certain narrative and actually seeing it is so jarring. it was very good i think and i do like that the goal Haymitch is trying to reach isnt the actual reason he ends up where he ends up (at least not directly). reassessing in the middle and having to come up with something else is always a good storytelling point.

also, the fucking squirrels were brutal. what do you mean they cleaned off everything but the bones. absolutely jarring

i suppose we've all tried guessing how exactly Haymitch's loved ones die, whether he finds their corpses in his new house and whatnot, but killing his mother and brother (his brother!! god i loved him so dearly this poor little kid, i cried in chapter 2 already) in a fire? burning alive has got to be one of the most gruesome deaths and it's an absolute evil punishment. feels terrible to say chapeau at that but like. it tortures the direct victims and it also adds another layer for Haymitch because he knows they suffered. but then again, fire is catching, and Snow will reap what he sowed. circles and all that. i did absolutely start crying when Katniss's dad started singing the old therebefore. that was not okay

about one page before Lenore Dove died, i had the shocking thought that she'd be Haymitch's first tribute to mentor because why else would she have been alive still? and it would've been such a terrible punishment because she would never have made it. and then she died from a gumdrop and i screamed. oh well.

and then i read the first two sentences of the epilogue and could barely read the rest through my tears and through my sobs. i didn't expect to go this far into the future. i barely expected Peeta and Katniss to be mentioned at all. but it gave me the same sort of feeling as the epilogue in Mockingjay gives me. and that's enough to make me tear up again just writing about it

so anyway, i really liked it. liked seeing who Haymitch is, his journey to who he becomes. of being pushed around, being insecure, being angry and wanting change, failing, becoming disheartened, of being a used and broken. and well, the politics of it all, but we know Suzanne knows her stuff

i might track on more thoughts later and I'm unfortunately also swayed by reading other posts as well so like. take this with a grain of salt, i literally just finished the book and came straight here

[strang3lov3]

My favorite person died a few years ago, and I remember waking up the next morning and my very first thought being "oh yeah. She's dead"

The same thing happened after last week's episode. My very first thought the next morning was "Joel's dead"

So fuck all the people who say it's just a game or just a show. Fictional characters can be important to us and we can grieve them too.

We form attachments to things, people, animals and it hurts deeply when they are gone. I remember talking with my aunt last year - she had lost two cats in the same month and she was devastated and people really seemed to want her to get over it quickly. Which tracks. People get weirded out by grief. And she said to me “I don’t understand why I can’t grieve my cats the way I’d grieve a person. They were god’s creatures too” 🫂 she’s right. They were living, breathing things, with personalities and quirks and memories and habits. And it sucks when they’re gone.

And I just feel similarly about this. Joel has been a comfort and an important figure in my life for years now and it was incredibly hard to watch him go the way he did. You know, you have memories of this character, they’re important to you for one reason or another and when they go, it is hard. There is a loss. There’s humanness in that and I don’t think it’s a bad thing to have a such a tender heart that you feel love and grief for characters too.

[jor-elsemissary]

Funny thing to happen. Martha getting jealous over Lionel's new assistant. Of course she's pretty. Of course she's young. Of course she's pretty. OF COURSE SHE'S A RED HEAD!

Martha: so...how was work?

Lionel: Boring. Better now that you're here.

Ptst fun little plot twist I think you'll enjoy. The new assistant is gay.

Can’t Stop Loving You

‘LUTHORCORP HEADS REBUILD’ read the headline on the latest edition of The Daily Planet. Senator Kent flattened the paper on the counter while she poured herself a cup of coffee and buttered the toasted english muffins. Normally she would have had a much larger breakfast to carry her throughout the day until lunch but she had an early meeting and only had enough time to catch up on the paper and a light meal. If coffee and toast could be even considered a meal that is.

She read through the article about how LuthorCorp was promising to rebuild the devastated parts of Metropolis after the alien invasion’s attempt to terraform the planet. How Lionel was upset over the loss of life, culture and architecture; that Metropolis was his city and he was going to take care of it. Martha was impressed that he was willing to help take the lead, but she knew that he was going to make a lot of money from the government in this rebuild.

Lionel rarely ever did anything out of the goodness of his heart unless it was something she wanted. She might have suggested he do something in their last phone call though. Martha remembered he had gently chuckled and promised her he would look into it.

Her attention was soon drawn to the picture printed across the upper half of the paper. It was of Lionel, much older and tired these days. The sides of his hair had greyed and made him look even more distinguished when it was trimmed short enough so he could comb it back. He still wore the beard, greyed in the middle and neatly trimmed. But there were more crows feet at his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth.

Despite the obvious signs of age, he still looked much younger. They had once joked that the meteor rocks had given him an uncanny longevity, an agelessness that caused him to age at a much slower rate. It had only been teasing on her part, but now she wondered if perhaps the rocks did indeed grant him something. He was in his seventies and he still looked like a man twenty years younger.

Not that she was complaining. Lionel looked good and perhaps that was why she felt a sudden pang of jealousy when she spotted the young red head standing behind him in the picture. She shouldn’t feel this way over another woman in Lionel’s life, and from the pencil skirt and blouse she wore, Martha suspected the woman was a personal assistant and that seemed to only make it worse.

A new one too.

The last one had been a brunette and just slightly younger than herself. She recalled Lionel did not have any issues with her so why the new hire? Had Janet finally had enough of his eccentricities and called it quits? Or had he tried to flirt with her? No, Janet hadn’t been his type and one of the reasons why he hired her. Well she may have had a hand in helping him pick an assistant.

She wondered if this was one of Lionel’s games he liked to play with her. Of all the bad habits and behaviors he had, Martha never really did enjoy his manipulative challenges. She only went along with them because she could easily see through them and he never did anything to be malicious or to hurt her.

But this?

If Janet hadnt lived up to his expectations, he had a list of suitable hires to pick from that she had gone over with him before returning back to Washington. She did not recall there being a red head in her twenties being among them. So why her and why now?

“He is incorrigible,” Martha murmured and caught herself side eyeing the smartphone resting beside her briefcase. She could easily call or text him but if this was one of his games to make her jealous and seek his company, well the man was gonna find himself waiting a long time. She would not be jealous over a personal assistant, even if she was a red head and professionally looked a little too much like her.

“No, Martha, you are not going to give him the time of day over this.” She flipped the paper over and finished off her coffee and muffin, determined to put him and his assistant out of her mind as she grabbed her phone, keys and briefcase. She was not dating him anymore and if he had purposely hired the woman to incite a reaction out of her, she was not going to give in.

She had better things to do than deal with a man pinning for her still.

—————

The chorus of Save Me rang muffled from inside the mahogany desk where she kept her personal phone while she worked. Martha gave the ringing song an offended look from where she stood by the bookcases, a thick law book in her hand. She thought she had changed that ring tone a while back but apparently not.

She knew who was calling and although she longed to talk to him again, she was determined to not allow him to win at this little game of his. Martha frowned as the song abruptly stopped and the call went to voicemail and she wondered if perhaps her stubbornness was expected or if there really was a game.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” she muttered with a snap of the law book closing shut in her hand. “So what if he has a new assistant? What he does in his spare time and with whom doesn’t matter anymore.”

Setting the book aside, she went over to the desk and fished out the phone. Swiping the screen open, she found the voicemail waiting for her and opened it.

Martha, it’s Lionel. It’s been a while since we last talked or had a lunch together. I am going to be in Washington later tonight and wondered if you would be interested in dinner? I know a wonderful Italian hole in the wall, nothing fancy or extravagantly expensive. Just you and I, and spaghetti? Please call me back to let me know. I… miss you.

Of course he would reference one of her favorite movies to try and court her back into his life. She should not have been surprised that he sees her as the lady and himself as the tramp. She who came from a privileged life and he from the Slums. “Still the romantic,” Martha sighed and allowed herself to give in and text him a reply instead of calling.

Martha stared at the messages with the sinking feeling he had maneuvered her into a date with him. She had to give him credit where credit was due. When Lionel wanted something, he pursued it until he had it or he could no longer acquire it. She had been the one to break things up between them and she knew it had broken his heart, but they had agreed to remain as friends.

Friends who didn’t talk to each other for a long while.

She sighed heavily and sat the phone down on her desk while leaning against the edge, staring ahead at nothing in particular and lost in thought. Did she really want to meet him for dinner after all this time? How awkward would it be for them? For her? Lionel would be the one pursuing a relationship again, possibly even mending what he thought had been wrong the first time. She had never given him a reason other than that it wasn’t working out.

Martha sighed again and pinched at the bridge of her nose. He was going to want an answer if the subject was brought up and she didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. It would be too painful for her and a stab in the heart for him. Thinking about it now brought tears to the corners of her eyes.

Damn him for wanting back into her life!

TBC

[transparentkinks]

Vulpes Crisis Continued

Part 3!

Part 2 Part 1

As with the other two, this fic is full of all the worst stuff regarding the Legion and it is not proofread! NSFW MDNI

Before you read, how should this story end for our Courier?

When she woke up, she was being attacked by an onslaught of wet, sloppy kisses. Taking account of her faculties, she realized that she was being pressed back into the mattress in Vulpes’s tent, Vulpes above her. He grinned his sick grin and lifted his hand to cup her chin. 

“There’s those eyes-” He mused. “Salve uxor mea” 

“What time is it?” She wasn’t sure why she wanted to know, the adrenaline of waking up to him above her had her fighting back tears, though he was only kissing her. 

“It is early morning of next day, compared to when you fell asleep.” Her tears began falling and he started stroking under her eyes, swiping away her tears. “Cutie” He mused, his smile huge as he squished at her cheeks. 

Looking in those ice cold blue eyes, all she saw was obsession. She could feel her adrenaline spike and she began hyperventilating. It felt mortifying, him seeing her begin to sob openly, but she couldn’t fight it anymore. 

“I need space” she pleaded, pushing at him with frantic arms. 

“Oh my Venus” He spoke as he let himself fall to his side and pulled her to him by force. She couldn’t stop heaving and sobbing. Pushing away from him didn’t remove her from his tight grip. “I will fight to get you most anything you want, but space from me is something I never intend to give you.” 

At that she screamed at the top of her lungs, completely enraged, as she gripped Vulpes hard on his upper arms and scratched as hard as she could. She couldn’t even tell or care if she actually managed to hurt him in her outrage. He’s shrugged off punches and kicks before, she’s sure that any damage she managed to inflict would be worn as the black eye and multiple gashes she inflicted during their ring match: pride. But it felt good to take her rage out on something, and if he won’t let her have her space it may as well be him. 

“Hush my love” He chided her with a grin, cradling her tight to his chest despite her intent to hurt him. “It’s okay” She sobbed into his chest in response. He started stroking her hair. “You’re okay” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“No!” She screamed into his chest long and incoherently. She was so angry, so fucking devastated at her situation, how deep she was in Legion territory, how she can’t remember a time without Vulpes’s hands on her since their supposed “marriage”. Nothing about this was okay.

“My heart” He spoke low and quiet into the crown of her head. “I understand you must mourn your loss of freedom, but don’t forget the great support and adoration you have gained as a result.” She just sobbed harder. “Most captures have a hysterics stage, you’ll get past this and you’ll get used to this. Then, my love, you’ll be able to find comfort.” She shook her head into his chest. She could feel herself hyperventilating. 

“N-” She couldn't get her words together through her tears.

“Shhhhh-” She felt him squeeze her incredibly tight, forcing an exhale and loosening his grip just a touch as she inhaled. She wanted to say a million things to him. She wanted to cuss him out, maybe bash his brains in. 

“You-” She pinched his skin hard. She wasn’t even sure what to say. “I can’t.” She protested through tears. 

“You certainly can.” He reassured her firmly. “Already you are a perfect wife.” 

“No” Her voice was raw. 

“You successfully grieve the loss of your past life no matter how much better your new life will be” He spoke with certainty.”A mark of a virtuous wife.” He was petting at her hair. “Today will be nice and peaceful. I will introduce you to the family gods today, and you will eat. A lot. You did not eat enough the other day.” He began to lecture a bit about nutrition and his desire to have a kid with her, and she just sobbed throughout it. After his lecture he resumed cooing at her, stroking her back, reassuring and waiting for her wailing to stop. It all just turned into an awful buzz in the back of her mind as she dreamt of being anywhere but here.

“Amica mea, you’re okay” His grip on her was still firm despite her squirming. 

“You’re safe with me, my heart” It felt suffocating.

 “It’s okay little one” She could feel the anxiety physically. 

“You’re lovely darling” It was like a billion needles in her skin. 

“Perfect” His other hand did not stop moving. 

“My cute little wife” running his hand over her back. 

“Mine” and stroking down her hair possessively. 

“My Venus” she knew she was shaking violently in his grip. 

“Pretty little thing” she just grabbed him as hard as she could in an attempt to ground herself. 

“You’re too adorable” that grip on him, it felt at that moment like all she could do. 

“I can’t wait to see you a mother” every word out of his mouth just made her feel sick. 

“You cry beautifully” there was nothing she wanted more than to not exist at that moment. 

“My little goddess” she didn’t want to think. 

“Perfect little wife” she just wanted to go back to sleep. 

“This will pass and you will feel comfort.” The nicknames didn’t stop. The words poured from his lips incessantly as she broke down. The worst part is that the grip on her body began to feel soothing, it felt maddeningly calming and like he was dragging her into the insanity he lived in. 

“Just leave me alone” She was finally able to find worlds and she begged. “Please.” Vulpes just laughed. 

“Perfect” He sighed. 

She doesn't know how long she spent sobbing in Vulpes’s arms. She didn’t stop crying when water was brought in, or when Vulpes washed her just as obsessively as he did yesterday. She sobbed as slaves dressed her. She cried silently as Vulpes held her and forced her to eat some egg dish with a latin name, roast vegetables, a whole brahmain steak, and to drink down a great deal of water and a tall glass of milk. 

She felt like she was just going through the motions, watching herself as Vulpes pulled her through the day. Watching herself as he pushed her to bow in front of some painted canvassas of old gods. Watching herself as he has her light several candles. Watching herself as Vulpes kneeled in front of her and smeared something thick and dark red over her feet. 

The sun glared as harsh and hazy as she felt. She was watching herself as Vulpes slathered her in affection, watched as Vulpes sat her in front of the fighting pit to watch sparring, watched as he fed her baked goods brought to where they sat in the shade, prickly pear and jalapeno jams in corn cookies and apple pastries. Several glasses of milk. He didn’t let her lift a hand, she didn’t remember walking here. Maybe he carried her. Anything said to her went in one ear and out the other. She had the most bizarre sensation of floating. She couldn’t remember most things happening.

Time passed, blood spilled on sand like the sun cracking closed to end the day on the horizon. She was brought dinner, some meat and vegetable handpies, more milk and water. Vulpes like always insisting on hand feeding her before carrying her to his tent. Then it was night. Vulpes had placed her on his bed, took off her sandals for her before she could kick them off and undid her hair and belt. 

She watched herself do nothing, hear nothing as Vulpes stripped her down, witnessed more than experienced the pleasure forced on her body as Vulpes forced himself on her. She watched herself as Vulpes cleaned her up and rewrapped her bandages. 

He spent an odd amount of time focusing on her body, massaging her body but she felt nothing. When he laid her in the bed to rest sleep came fast. Her dreams were visceral but when she woke up she couldn’t remember them. The next day passed the same, and the next as well with the constancy of Vulpes and her maddening situation. Days blended into each other, then blending into weeks with the same routine dictated by Vulpes’s attention and she prayed it wasn’t more, though trying to count the days and time was dizzying. It was all dizzying, not a moment away from Vuples’s reaching hands and disgusting affections, not a moment away from Vulpes’s obsession and mind games. She was propped up for paintings. Pictures were taken of her. She was forced to sit though feasts and fighting matches and long meetings around Legion strategy. Caesar often tutored Vulpes and lectured her on godhood and she heard nothing. She felt hollow, numb. She may as well have been a doll, carried through the motions of her day. She was watching a ghost be guided through a sick mockery of her life.

Then she woke up that morning before the sun rose urgently nauseous, and all the numbing static of the past several days transformed suddenly into ice cold fear. Please be infertile she prayed. I’ve been through so much radiation, please let me be infertile. 

Her mind was a panicked mess as her body insisted she find some receptacle for her ever urgently growing sick. But she was chained to the bed. She shakily tried to move without alerting Vulpes, trying to unlatch her chain from the bed. Unfortunately Vulpes insisted on sleeping with his arms latched around her, and he was a light sleeper. He was awake and pulling her back to him before the first rattle of the chain. 

“Nimis primo mane” He spoke tiredly. It was too late, she shoved at his arms and lunged forward over the edge of the mattress so as to at least not cover the bed in puke and gave up on holding back her vomit. She feels Vulpes jump behind her before he pulled her hair away and rubbed her back. It was a painful, upsetting thing. She’d always hated feeling sick. She hated even more feeling so vulnerable and tired. By the end of it she was sobbing and shaking over her pool of sick as Vulpes held her curled back into him and cooed the sweet nonsense he called praise and comfort in her ear. When it was clear she was done, Vulpes gently guided her to lay back down on her side. He said something she didn’t quite process before rising to stand and leave the tent. She didn’t bother trying to get up now. The chain’s latch had a passcode and she was still shaking. She pressed her hands to her lower stomach. I will not be the mother of the next Ceasar. She thought, determined. I will find a way. She felt sick considering she’s stuck having Vulpes’s child. 

“Amica mea” Vulpes called as he once again entered the tent with a huge smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He marched to her bedside and did not bother waiting for her to sit up before he lifted her into his arms. “I hold my whole family in my arms” He spoke quiet, near one tone away from a giggle. His apparent joy nearly made her nauseous again. 

Looking about, the slaves Vulpes brought with him had wordlessly set to work cleaning up after her. Others brought out jars of various substances and two set to laying out several snacks on the main tent table. Vulpes placed her to sit on the wooden bench and dropped to his knees before her, his hands on her hips, his eyes locked on her stomach. “Our child” He mused fondly. “If we have a son his name will be Julius.” He spoke excitedly. “If we have a daughter her name will be Prima.” 

She felt her shock give way to anger as she got a grip on her rage. She wouldn’t call herself a genius, but she’s read the same few classics that survived that they did. She’d be dammned if she’d call her kid fucking Prima. “Her name will be Celeste, or Rose, or Atalanta if you must have a roman name, but I'm not calling my daughter Prima.” She practically spat in anger. Regardless of her anger Vulpes would not wipe that giddy fucking grin off his face.

“You’re so offended by the name?” He teased. “I simply want an accurate Roman name for my daughter.” His answer pissed her off more. 

“It’s too late to have an accurate Roman name” She grinned spitefully. “Your last name is already feminine, ‘daughter of incultus’ or ‘desert’ you’re just missing a ‘prima’ of your own. An ‘a’ suffix is feminine.” He gave her an odd look and maintained his grin. “I read the same shit ya’ll did, not everyone has to make it their whole personality.” She attempted to jab. 

“Well-” He grinned cryptically. “We’ll have time to discuss names, won’t we?” She grimanced at that. Not if she could help it. She’d find a way to escape, or at least lose the baby. “And I like the sound of first daughter of the desert. It fits you very well, and I imagine it would fit your daughters too.”

“Her name will not be prima, or any other number name” she spoke angrily. And that was if she even had the baby. Did she want to lose the baby? That was a tough thought she’d been putting off for years. Being a mom in the wasteland was a thankless task that required you to risk your life and health multiple times. There were plenty of reasons to practice safe sex in the wasteland, pregnancy being one lethal risk of many. She always thought, maybe if she could get settled down with enough caps. If she found the right guy, they could build themselves a ranch. If she turned out able to carry a kid, then they could have a few. 

This dream family, this dream future was always somewhere free. Somewhere more green than this, somewhere isolated enough where she wouldn’t have to interact with people she wasn’t interested in interacting with. This dream family lived somewhere peaceful, away from gunfire. Somewhere where they felt safe, with someone she trusted to respect her and have her back. Someone she’d trust her life with and someone worth receiving that same trust from her. That dream man was not Vulpes Inculta, and that peaceful life she imagined for her kids would not be found in the Legion. Vulpes had talked her head off about it before when she was trying not to listen, the Agoge awaited any sons born to the legion. Glorified torture, that’s what it was. Daughters had it worse. All supposed to be slaves to ceasar. 

“I wasn’t aware of the depth of your knowledge regarding ancient Rome.” Vulpes stood as more slaves entered, bringing in several buckets of steaming water before leaving for more. Vulpes took a cloth and dipped it in water before wiping down her face. “Our children will be fortunate to have such a knowledgeable mother.” He teased. “Regardless of your objections, I think your voice holds very little weight when it comes to speaking against number names.” 

“Ecce!” Came a yell from outside the tent, and Vulpes held out his hand to receive a large dress from one of the slaves. Vulpes tugged the dress onto her, herself now used to his insistence that she not do too many things for herself. 

“Ineo” Vulpes called in answer once she was covered. Two recruits entered the now very busy tent with a shallow wooden tub. Upon placing it in the very back of the tent they left with a brisk Vale and two of the slaves working began pouring the buckets of steaming water into the tub. As Vulpes continued to meticulously wipe her down under her dress she watched as an ever rotating group of slaves entered and exited the tent lugging in more hot water to be dumped in the tub. 

“What is this?” Her words came out in a shaky whisper. 

“We must safeguard your health.” Was Vulpes’s simple answer. She watched as the slaves dropped several concoctions and plants into the tub. The recruits returned with a small lit brazier and tongs and placed them in the middle of the tent. It seems the women began using it for cooking? Before another took a hot rock from the fire and dropped it into the tub. That same slave then knelt before the both of them wordlessly. “Come,” Vulpes spoke. “ -your bath is ready.” She stood before he could pick her up himself. He still took it upon himself to remove the dress he had thrown over her so briefly. 

She hardly took a moment to examine the steaming murky, flower-filled water before Vulpes took it upon himself to lift her and despite her protests, place her in the tub. 

“If you care about my health, shouldn’t you be more worried about all the stress of everything being done against my will?” She challenged with a glare as she sank deeper into the tub. 

“You are strong, and our children will also be strong. Your body was made to do this. Besides, your place is here beside me regardless of any temporary stress of your transition. I understand that you dislike your position, that is why we are taking mitigating measures.” She raised an eyebrow at that. “You will see.”

She just sighed and resigned herself to enjoy her very early morning hot bath and a few blissful moments away from Vulpes’s touch. The bath had a smoky, floral smell that she didn’t mind, and a thin oil seemed to float atop the surface. She was pretty much constantly tense now that she can’t go longer than a few minutes without Vulpes putting his hands on her. She supposed that at least with this big to-do about her she could have a moment to enjoy the heat of the water. Then she felt hands in her hair. 

Looking back she saw a slave with a comb and several bottles arranged nearby beginning to slowly work out knots and apply various substances to her hair. She sighed and sank further into the water. She could feel Vulpes’s eyes on her, but she didn’t want to think about that. She let her hands drift to her stomach beneath the water. Finally, the opacity of the water allowed her some shred of privacy in her movements around Vulpes. Under this murky water she moved her arm and he did not know, will never know. He can never have this moment, with whatever speck of a child might be growing inside her. She might be growing someone. 

She still hurt, she still hated the situation Vulpes forced her into. She couldn’t remember being in a darker headspace than when in his captivity. She hated the legion, she hated caesar, she hated Vulpes, part of her hated herself for letting herself get stuck in this situation, but she loved kids. Even if they’re half of him, if she does turn out able to carry a kid to term despite the radiation, she promised herself in that moment, they would be her’s. Her child. Vulpes, the legion, caesar, they can’t have them. 

She had to survive for them. She had to save them from this. She was stupid enough to waltz into a legion trap with faith in their honesty and maybe that was on her but this kid, they wouldn’t have a choice to be born, it wouldn’t be fair to bring them into this. If she has to raise this psycho’s kid there would be no fucking agoge. They would not grow up to enjoy being cruel. They would not believe it is natural for some people to look down on others. They would use the strength and skills she’d teach them to make the world a better, safer place for themselves and others. They will be kind. 

If she was pregnant, she couldn’t give up and look for a way out, she’d have to escape. 

She couldn’t feel or see a latch on the collar. She wonders if he had it soldered shut in her sleep, and how she could have managed to sleep through that. He seemed to always cover the numbers on the chain’s latch with his fingers when he inputs the code, but she thinks she could learn it if he was distracted enough for her to spend some time fidgeting with it. Better yet, if she could find an opportunity to take him off guard when he had the latch on his belt. If she could get something sharp she could literally cut and run. The guards would be difficult, but she would at least have the psychological upper hand despite being outnumbered. They wouldn’t go for killing blows, but she definitely would. She was a good swimmer, if she could get over the walls she could swim to the dam and finally be free from the Legion and this insanity. 

Which would be easier said than done, considering Vulpes carries her practically everywhere. She’d need him distracted, outside, and on his feet. And something sharp she could hide, also easier said than done considering her recent attempt on her own life. Vulpes even cut up her food and fed it to her for fucks sake. 

Plus she’d have to outrun and outswim them all. She wasn’t quite sure what shape she was in, or remember the last time she engaged in anything remotely strenuous. And she might be pregnant, the more she waits the more her body will change. Will she run and swim and fight the same?

Wait, the boomers, the plane and the cave nearby. She could make it there and wait in an air pocket. Why risk a race to the dam when she can disappear in the chaos? Then she’ll be able to swim away under cover of night. 

Eugh, no matter what she’d have to earn his trust. The idea made her skin crawl. She knew she was a bad actor, she knew she was a bad liar, could she do this? What would she have to do to earn his trust? What would he make her do? 

She huffed and inhaled sharply before she let the water rise to cover her nose, just barely keeping her eyes above the water. It was soothing, to watch the little ripples dance. Just as she was starting to feel the slightest bit relaxed she felt a hand on her upper arm yank her up in the tub. 

“I do hope this isn’t some new method of trying to kill yourself.” Vulpes grumbled, pulling her out of the bath. “You’ve been in there long enough anyhow.”

“What?” She tried to step down but he picked her up into his arms instead. Seemingly unbothered by the damp state of his clothes. The air suddenly felt incredibly cold on her wet skin, and several slaves stepped forward with various towels to begin wiping her dry as she squirmed in Vulpes’s arms. 

“What were you thinking about?” He interrogated. “You think too loud, I could see it plain across your face.” The one time in days, weeks? Maybe? That she gets a moment not completely observed or restrained by him and he wants to interrogate her about it, it’s frustrating. Of course her supposed husband had to be a fucking spy obsessed with every expression she made. “Unless you want me to believe the water was really that interesting.” 

“I just-” She sighed, damn him. “It’s just strange to me, to think I'm growing a person.” She told as much of the truth as she could manage. “I don’t have any clue what motherhood will be like. I wonder if I’ll be good at it, I wonder what kind of person they’ll be.” 

“You will be a fine mother, and our child will be strong heirs to the Legion.” he assured her as he placed her back on the wooden bench. He seemed to buy her explanation much to her relief. She guessed he felt more comfortable dealing with birth anxieties than her desire for freedom. Maybe if he believed her to be an anxious future mother he’d be less intense with his hovering. She hardly paid attention now, as the slaves around her set to work drying her hair and Vulpes began his ritual of exploring her body with the excuse of rubbing oil into her skin. “I cannot wait to see how your body changes with motherhood,” he mused as he rubbed the scented oil over her stomach. 

“It’s just daunting.” She muttered. Vulpes chuckled at that. 

“Moreso than what you used to do?” He questioned with a smile. 

“Yes” She answered certainly. “I can fight most things to maintain my safety, but a baby is gonna change how my body works no matter what I do.” Vulpes was clearly amused by her answer, surging up off his knees to grab her face and force her into a kiss. 

“Well my love,” He pulled away finally and she enjoyed every inch of space between them. “-you are uniquely strong amidst the wasteland, and your body was made to do this. With the help of the Legion, I am confident you and our child will thrive no matter what changes you experience.” He removed his hands from her face and set to pulling her dress over her once more. “Today we will inform Caesar of your progress and offer prayers for a successful pregnancy.” Vulpes informed her. 

She sighed, wringing her hands in her lap as she let Vulpes stare her down as the slaves did her hair and he got washed and dressed. They did not do up her hair or tie her dress with a scarf, so she assumed they were not leaving soon. Once Vulpes was dressed he grabbed a plate of the food the slaves prepared and sat beside her. At this point she knew it went by faster if she just ate the way he insisted, so she did. She preferred to eat with as little touch and conversation shared as she could manage. He wouldn’t stop being disgusting and touchy about the whole ordeal though. Always once she was finished, no matter how she acted:

“Good girl,” He never missed an opportunity to tell her something to the effect. She figured better to not dignify it with a reaction, as he seemed to enjoy them too much. Eugh, and if she wants to earn his trust-

Goddamit, She’s gonna have to go along with a lot of this weird obsession of his. She’s going to have to get a better grip on herself to not lose it at Vulpes. How long would that even take? She’ll have to try to prepare for her escape, pay attention to the camp layout and routines and what kind of weaponry she may be dealing with. She guessed she wouldn’t be able to get her weapons back, lucky she didn’t bring all her favorites. Maybe if she can get him confident enough to start carrying a dagger again-.

“It’s time to head out” Vulpes announced before scooping her up in his arms. 

“What?” She was startled at the abrupt departure from the tent. “Arn’t I supposed to have sandals or something?” She droned, annoyed. 

“You’re pregnant now, you’ll be different.” He answered smoothly. He always moved far too fast for a man insistent on carrying her everywhere. 

“What if I need to walk?” She questioned. She would prefer to be wearing them honestly, the earth was all scorching sand and sharp rocks. 

“You will not be walking” Vulpes answered simply. 

“That’s ridiculous. How am I supposed to stay healthy if I can’t even walk around?” She asked incredulously. There’s no way that was in any way beneficial to her pregnancy. 

“You will be exhausting yourself enough carrying our child, and it is bad luck to bind an expecting mother so. You carry my child. As your husband, it falls to me to carry you.” Vulpes attempted to explain, but it made no more sense to her. Some legion religious bullshit she supposed. 

“This mysticism is ridiculous.” She huffed. Vulpes sighed and jostled her higher in his arms. 

“You live by it regardless, my Venus.” He teased. She would not dignify him with an answer. Vulpes paused at the door to Caesar's tent, she was sure waiting for Caesar to send word that they could enter. Seeing as the sun had barely begun rising, part of her wondered why he bothered to come to the tent. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with Caesar, but he was clearly sick of something. He needed a lot of rest, a fact she was grateful for as it kept most of his lectures shorter than an hour. 

“Vocaris intrare” one of the guards from inside the tent spoke as he held open the flap for Vulpes. Vulpes nodded at him, receiving one in return before entering. 

“Ave, caesar.” Vulpes dropped to a knee with her in his arms once he had entered the tent. Caesar was standing dressed down near the back of his tent, a wide grin on his face as he gestured with his hands for Vulpes to rise to his feet. 

“I hear you have good news for me.” Caesar stepped closer to them as Vulpes stood, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“I do, lord caesar. She is showing signs of being with child.” Vulpes spoke proudly, a grin of his own on his face. Being around while the two of them talked was always infuriating. Now they’d both be discussing her. Just great. 

“I will have a festival arranged to pray for her pregnancy then.” Caesar’s joy carried in his voice before his eyes turned to her. “They will be celebrating your child across the empire, you know. They will be singing your name in flagstaff.” He spoke in a patronizing sort of way, the way him and Vulpes deemed ‘comforting’ to her, so says them. 

“I’m not interested in celebration.” She spoke in a short, clipped voice. She wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. She was not interested in getting dragged into another lecture about godhood and empire, though she knew him and Vulpes would talk about those topics extensively no matter how she responded. 

“A goddess will not be birthing demigods in my empire without a festival.” Caesar spoke amusedly, like he was teaching a child something they couldn’t understand. “We will be sure to pray for the health of you and your children, and a safe delivery.” 

“Modern medicine would probably go farther as far as safe delivery.” She maintained her glare on Caesar. She could feel Vulpes huff in humor at her statement. 

“A goddess does not need poison to bring life into this world.” Caesar chided. “And it would be foolish to not call on the gods for you when you carry the future of our empire within you.” She hated the mystical charade they were dedicated to crafting. “I would suggest you get used to festivals, this will be the first of many.” She could feel the pit in her stomach grow. She did not want to face crowds. The idea of more people made her sick. Oh no. Wait it actually-

“I’m gonna be sick-” Was all she was able to get out before trying to shove her way out of Vulpes’s arms and heaving. In reality Vulpes kneeled to the ground with her in tow, and pulled her hair back while she hurled, helping hold her up as she hacked on the ground. 

“Well I have no doubt these festivals may be needed.” She could hear Caesar sigh above them. “Motherhood is not a comfortable labor.” 

“And yet what a beautiful labor to bear.” Vulpes’s voice was too cheerful. 

“It is occasionally.” Caesar answered as she coughed over her sick. “It brings out the truth of a woman as a battle does for men. I have seen many of the women lucky enough to serve the legion brought low by it. A goddess, I know, will bare it with grace and show us the beauty that goes into growing a life.” This guy could not stop with the lame ass lectures. 

“I know she will leave me in awe with her ability as she always does.” A servant rushed to their side and handed Vulpes a towel. He was quick to wipe at her lips the second she leaned away. Then she was pulled back up into his arms. 

“You are prepared for the hysteria?” Caesar asked Vulpes as he stood. 

“I am, I will ensure she is well taken care of.” Vulpes assured. “She will not be able to shake me. If the stories I’ve heard of other pregnancies are anything to go by, I’m sure the distress of a goddess will be quite the thing to weather.” She felt so gross. At least they were busy talking like she wasn’t there and she wasn’t expected to listen to them while so nauseous. She kind of just wanted to go back to bed. 

“I’ve seen plenty of madness in my day, never mind with a woman willing to try to kill a man. I’d keep on my toes as her pregnancy progresses.” Caesar kept droning on. “Regardless, let’s see if she’s able to keep anything down.” She glared at the breakfast spread set to a side table with disdain. 

“Of course, Caesar” She didn’t bother to look as Caesar took his seat and Vulpes built her plate. It's not like they’d listen if she complained. Vulpes took his seat and she wasn’t interested in looking up from the table. She just wanted to get out of this tent as fast as possible, every encounter with Caesar was insufferable. It seemed like he felt if he preached to her enough she’d become convinced that him and her were indeed gods, or whatever their mythology says they are to explain things like dying. Time spent eating was time spent not discussing their insanity. Luckily Vulpes seemed inclined to try and get her to mostly eat bread so far, and she could stomach it well enough with some of the water. 

“We will need to hold another festival when your coin is ready.” Caesar commented, now done with his food. Great, a shitty picture of her is gonna be on shitty money. Maybe if she said nothing he’d get the message and shut up. “No matter your objections, it's a great honor.” Had she even made any yet? “Your image and story will carry far beyond even the bounds of the Legion.” Vulpes began eating some food for himself as Ceasar spoke. “They will know you to be a goddess.”

“Because more creeps being weird to me is what I want.” She spoke sarcastically. 

“You are so terrified of being known? Your actions do not indicate such. Someone unwilling to be known would not involve themselves in half the things you do.” Caesar replied like the idea of someone not wanting to be talked about behind their back, never mind to an entire empire was appealing. 

“I’m not interested in being known for whatever crackpot story you concoct for your pantheon. Considering the way I’ve heard and seen your men treat women, I'm in no way interested in having my image available to the citizens of your empire either.” She knew she was basically speaking to a brick wall. Caesar has never had to feel targeted simply because of people knowing what he looked like. 

“You’re so appalled by rightly inspiring lust in any healthy man?” Vulpes teased from behind her. “It is inevitable whether your image is spread or not. You are Venus made flesh, it is your domain.” 

“Arn’t you supposed to be my husband or something? You don’t have a problem with your unwashed masses getting off to my picture?” She turned in his lap, and indeed he was smirking down at her like this topic was some light amusement. 

“Why would I take issue with every man recognizing that you are beautiful and they can not have you? None of them had the strength or bravery to fight for you and win. Let them pour out their lust for you in their dreams, I get the real thing.” Vulpes finished his statement by continuing to eat, and she briefly considered how funny it would be to chop him in the throat right as he swallows to watch him cough and gag. 

“You people have some fucked up morals.” She grumbled, seemingly to the amusement of both of the men in her presence. 

“Your husband is right woman.” Caesar emphasized the word husband much to her disliking, almost as much as the way he said woman. “The spread of your story is as much of an honor for him as it is for you. He gets to be the husband of Venus on this earth, where your name is spoken his will follow.” 

“My name?” She questioned. She didn’t even know her own name. What, were they gonna say her name is courier six? 

“Yes, Six, your name.” Vulpes sounded too smug behind her. Did these idiots really think six was her actual name? 

“My name isn’t actually six, you know that right?” She found herself giggling at the prospect. Heard her story, have they? Definitely not all of it. 

“Are you not the courier, six?” Caesar was looking at her quizzically. 

“It is the only thing you have ever been called.” Vulpes’s tone was less smug now, like he could insist what her name was. She was full on laughing now, she could practically feel them glaring at her. 

“I-” She could barely wheeze out through the laughter. “-am the courier number six, as in that is my number amongst other couriers for my job.” 

“Then what is your name?” Vulpes questioned insistently from behind her. 

“Fuck if I know.” She giggled out. 

“What do you mean?” Caesar looked irritatedly at her as Vulpes questioned her. 

“Oh, I thought you two knew my story so well since you’re trying to make a mythology out of it.” She goaded sarcastically. 

“If we do not know it all, then enlighten us.” Caesar insisted from where he sat. 

“I got shot in the head, I'm lucky I even remembered the guy that did it. I’ve been called my job title because that’s what I got to go off of.” She answered, her giggles finally winding down. 

“So-” Caesar was leaning forward, elbows propped on the table and fingers laced together. “You don’t- have, a name.” He seemed much less irritated than he was a few seconds ago. Was he grinning? 

“I have a name, I’ve been looking for it till you guys got in the way.” She clarified. Now she was getting irritated. 

“A name you seem to have left behind.” Caesar mused from his position. “Your life is different now. If you have lost your old name it is for good reason.” He leaned back in his seat. 

“A bullet in the head is not divine providence.” She argued. “It’s called head trauma and it can be healed.” 

“And yet you haven't healed enough to find your name.” Vulpes chimed in from behind her, she could practically hear his mock sympathy. 

“It’s only been a few months!” She exclaimed. “The doctor that found me said it could take years. I remembered my job and routine and personality, it's only a matter of time till I find my name.” 

“I think a bullet in the head is very much divine providence.” Caesar looked like he was planning something, smirking and looking at her like he just now got the chance to meet her. “Yes, I see now.” Caesar stood to pace his way around the table. “That’s how you survived. Venus saw you in your grave and took you for herself.” He approached where Vulpes and her sat. Vulpes kept his grip on her firm, even as she tried to lean away from Caesar's touch on her forehead, tracing the scar in the middle of her right temple. 

“That’s ridiculous-” She tried to speak with conviction, but she felt her head throb as she hadn't felt in months. Caesar leaned away.

“Why did you wince?” She heard Vulpes question behind her as he lifted a hand to her jaw. 

“I didn’t” She argued, annoyed at his focus on her. 

“You did.” He argued. “You tensed and inhaled sharply.” 

“Oh, I don’t know-” She spoke sarcastically. “Maybe poking at my old head wound without warning?” She wished she could break Ceasar’s hands off. 

“No, something hurt.” Vulpes insisted. “It can’t possibly be that sensitive with it as healed as it is.” Vulpes moved his hand to press lightly at her wound as if to prove his point. 

“Yeah, because you know sooo- much about how I feel.” She huffed. 

“I know more than you think, I can recognise your pain.” Vulpes turned her chin to the side so he could see more of her face. 

“Like you care.” She spat. 

“I care to know what caused it.” A glance confirmed he was looking at her as intensely as he always did, and she huffed. “You will tell me.” He spoke it like a command. 

“Or what?” She was so tired of this conversation. “You’re gonna cause another head injury?” 

“Amica mea,-” Vulpes spoke in a lighter voice, seemingly amused. She certainly heard Ceasar huff in laughter at her challenge. “I would never. However if you do not tell me what you know of your pain, as your husband I will need to get you medical attention, and I will buy a sacrifice for your health.” 

“You don’t mean-” She tensed in memory of that tent all those weeks ago. The screaming and blood, the organs pooled on the floor, she could still remember the smell of the gore. 

“You know very well I do.” Vulpes threatened in much too soft a voice. “I know I saw pain on you. This is your last chance to tell me what you know of it before I take you for medical attention.” 

“You-!” She knew she was seething. Vulpes knew how to push her buttons, and she really wished she had a gun to shoot him with. She huffed in annoyance. 

“Are you going to tell me or not?” Vulpes challenged once more. 

“Just-” She gripped her dress and tried to glare a hole through the table. “I’ve had occasional sharp headaches n’ stuff since the gunshot. They’ve been getting shorter and farther apart since then. I don’t need medical treatment, it's already healing.” 

“And stuff?” Vulpes probed. “That isn’t acceptable. What are all your symptoms? When was your last experience of this before today?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” She accused. “I just told you-”

“Do not dismiss his concerns, it's his job to care for you as your husband.” Caesar interjected, leaning back against the table with his arms crossed, appraising her and Vulpes’s conversation. “If his concerns persist it is his obligation to seek out professional help. Elaborate.” 

“I-” She stewed in her rage as she considered how to describe it. “I get, I guess, kind of dizzy sometimes. Things will look blurry, or my ears will ring. Sometimes I won’t be able to recognize words. I was told I fainted once and gave everyone quite a scare, but I don’t remember any of it. It's all been getting less severe, and happening for shorter times farther apart. Like I said, healing. The last time I had something like this, had to be at least a month ago.” A glance confirmed Vulpes looked a little more satisfied. 

“You are lucky an episode never overtook you during a fight.” Vulpes spoke, and she could practically feel his eyes on her scar. 

“Yeah-” She agreed. She was ready to be done getting grilled about her head trauma. 

“You’ve had to fight during an episode haven't you?” Vulpes accused in awe. 

“No!” She refuted. 

“No, no I thought you were simply given to erratic movements in fights, but you’re always miraculously on your feet, swaying as you are. You go into grappling when no one would consider doing so smart. Those symptoms make too many of your oddities make sense. You-” He squinted his eyes at her in displeasure. “And you managed to make your way to new vegas like that.” He spoke it like he could not believe it. “The more I learn of you the more I am certain there is no way any simple woman could accomplish what you do.” 

“The more I hear you speak the more I am certain you’re the creepiest man I’ve met.” She was more and more appalled and concerned at how long Vulpes has been obsessed with her. He revealed knowledge of observations she struggled to place in her memory, either too far back to make sense or what must have been during a gap in her memory. 

“I have no shame for my love of you.” Vulpes spoke smugly. 

“Indeed, there is nothing wrong in a man’s love for a woman, especially so for his wife, even more so for the goddess of love, fertility, and desire.” Caesar agreed with Vulpes. “You would do well Venus, to understand that this is natural. It is his right to express his affections so, and even more so his right to try to earn reciprocity from you.” 

“Excuse me?” If that’s what passed as romance in the Legion then no wonder they all have to buy someone to fuck them. 

“In enough time, you will understand.” Vulpes assured, tucking any hair near her face behind her ear. 

“Regardless-” Caesar chimed in. “This conversation certainly has been illuminating. Your miraculous survivals make sense now. Clearly in that grave your life was offered to Venus and she took it. She saw a fitting vessel for herself in you and drove you on your journey of vengeance. You lost your name because you are to be called Venus.” 

“I’m not responding to that.” She asserted. “Until I find my name, my name is six.” 

“You don’t need to respond to it.” Caesar reassured. “It is simply what you will be called, because that is who you are. Whether you can comprehend it or not, you were shot, pursued your vengeance and caught the eye of your husband because you are Venus. No wonder Vulpes was the one to bring you before me, your soul had chosen your husband before your mind could even consider him.” 

“Being kidnapped and forced into a marriage against my will isn’t me choosing my husband.” She spoke sharply.

“Indeed,” Caesar agreed. “Your soul calling to him, forcing him to turn his eyes and desire only to you, was you choosing him. Vulpes insisted on your importance before any players in the Mojave knew who you were. I doubt you would have been brought here before me had you not ensnared him in obsession. Your soul guided you down your path of vengeance to find your husband and join my legion.” 

“I didn’t do anything to make him stalk me, his obsession is just because every man in the legion thinks they can grab any woman they want for themselves. It's not natural or healthy.” She fumed through her speech. These men were ridiculous. 

“None of that accounts for the fact that you haunted my mind.” Vulpes was speaking in that voice he used when he was trying to speak all flowery to her, like talking like a pompous ass would make her fall for him. “I have seen and known many women, I’ve seen women work hard to cultivate beauty and entice the eyes of men, all of them I was able to put from my mind when the time came to pursue my duties. I did not know the true meaning of love, I thought the old writings of love and marriages to be the writings of men who cast aside duty and logic for the momentary comfort of a woman’s company. I knew not what it meant to carry someone’s love with you, to be driven by their safety and the knowledge of your return to them. From the moment I saw you in Nipton my soul was called to you, my mind would not turn away from thoughts of you. Every inch of my being demanded I follow you and know you. You were dirty, angry, in torn men’s clothes covered in blood and dust. I looked in your eyes and saw only wrath. You refused to even speak to me. By all accounts to me you should have been another one amongst many scrawny creatures of the desert, you should have inspired nothing in me but contempt for the lawless ways those of the desert live. Instead my soul demanded I follow you. I risked my very life by insisting I must track you. I am alive now to have you because your path of revenge proved to the entirety of the Mojave what I knew from the moment we met eyes: your presence is fateful, you are strong enough to tip the scales of power. Your every action vindicated me before my brothers, showed Caesar I did not lie about your ability and importance. Every step of your path turned more eyes of the legion upon you. Your every victory proved you more than any human woman. Deny as you like, we were meant to be united as one.” Of course he found a way to blame her for his obsession. 

“That’s absolutely st-”

“Correct.” Caesar cut her off. “He is correct. Your every action has proved him correct. You changing his heart while on your path of vengeance heralds the coming victory of the Legion. When we take our Rome, the people will need reminded of what we fight for. Conquest without purpose will destroy a man. He must remember to turn to what he loves, remember why he fights for a homeland. A homeland allows a man to find love, to enjoy watching the fruits of his labors grow. A homeland lets a man teach his sons why they train and what they will one day fight for. This is why you came to us as our battle approached, in my old age. When Rome is taken, the time will come to hang up the sword of conquest and turn our attention to the maintenance and stable growth of our empire. The legion will not last without the guidance of both Mars and Venus. You called on Vulpes to see the truth of that and guide my eyes to the wisdom you share.” 

“Well that’s an awfully convenient explanation for why the Legion can’t keep going past Vegas.” She glared at Ceasar. 

“Well, Venus, no matter how you choose to interpret it, that is the truth of your presence here.” Caesar chided her. 

“Don’t call me that.” She spoke angrily. 

“It is your name.” Vulpes stated it like fact. 

“It is not!” She exclaimed. She could feel that itchy pressure behind her eyes that told her she was fighting back tears. 

“It is the name of your very soul.” Caesar affirmed. She could feel herself losing her grip on her anger and self-control, and she knew her eyes were watering. 

“You two and your legion are nothing but a bunch of misogynistic sadistic slavers using any excuse to justify your selfish actions!” She was yelling now. “We aren't gods, you’re a narcissistic dictator scrambling for a method to secure your empire now that you’re too old and feeble to lead. Nothing you do or say will change the fact that you will be remembered as a tyrant.” 

“I see you’ve recovered your wit since your bout with Vulpes.” Caesar seemed amused by her yelling. “Interpret it as you will, but you were always destined to find your way here by Vulpes’s side. Enlightenment takes time.” 

“Perhaps we should offer prayers for her enlightenment as well as her safe pregnancy.” Vulpes suggested. “Some blood offerings perhaps to awaken her to knowledge of her goddess.” 

“You said you wouldn’t need sacrifices if I told you what was wrong!” She accused. 

“I said I would not need to sacrifice to your health if I felt you did not need medical attention. I was clear that festivals for you would include sacrifice.” Vulpes clarified. 

“I don’t want sacrifices!” She knew she was getting hysterical, but she could not wipe the pained faces of those dying women from her mind. That cannot happen again, she can’t let it happen. 

“You and your soft heart-” Vulpes mused, messing with her hair. 

“It is a woman’s nature.” Caesar’s voice was dripping with condescending sympathy. “It makes for a good mother, to love kindness and compassion and fear pain and suffering. It is why she is tempered by her husband, as her husband is tempered by her. To go without the protection and guidance of a man leaves her and her children vulnerable to the ruthless among us, leaving them to experience true sadism. It is the sad lot of most women given to independence, I watched my own mother suffer so because my earthly father could not fight for his legacy. It is the actions of a boy, not a man, to leave his children to secure safety for his family. Man and woman need one another to create true safety and stability for each other. It is for the husband to see clearly the bloodlust in those around them and ensure it does not impede the health of his children and wife.” Vulpes just nodded where he sat, listening to Caesar's slop like it was gospel. “You would both do well to learn the intricacies of marriage, as it will be your role to guide how the legion grows.” 

“We are blessed by your guidance caesar.” Vulpes replied. She had to remind herself throughout the lecture that giving in to homicidal tendencies will only make the both of them insufferable and prolong the wait for Vulpes to feel comfortable carrying a knife. She hoped he wouldn’t insist on this carrying her everywhere for her entire pregnancy, that would definitely complicate an escape plan. 

“For the ceremony I will announce her as Venus. Priestesses from flagstaff have been sent for, and should be arriving within the week. Sufficient arrangements should be complete by then for a proper appeal to the gods. We should have her story of vengeance told at the dinner after, the more the story spreads the better.” She already knew she was going to hate this. If that- competition? Was anything to go by, it will be way too many people, weird cult shit and human sacrifice. 

“I’m not going by venus.” She spoke shortly. 

“You will, because you are Venus. Any story with courier six attached to it will be told with the name Venus across legion territory, and it will be your legend in our new Rome.” Caesar admonished. 

At that, she resolved to glare, maintaining what she hoped would end the conversation: silence. Caesar looked her over and sighed. “I have other obligations to attend to, as do you.” He stood straight and vulpes rose, her in tow, to say his ridiculous little Latin fair well. She let herself zone out as the day went on, Vulpes carrying her from meeting to meeting, directing movements and shouting orders at men training under the Mojave sun. 

All she could do was wait, and she didn’t think she had the energy to survive trying to emotionally antagonize Vulpes. Instead, she let herself look blearily up into the sky, watching the glaring sun and light clouds give way to a cotton-candy sky before falling dark under shroud of night. She looked for shapes in clouds and in stars, barely turning her head away even as he made her eat. Under the nightly “ministrations” of her “husband” she looked for small slivers of starlight, looking in awe at the little dots that managed to show through as she once again lost touch with her body. She just had to wait. 

———

She was perfect, the small weight of her in his arms, feeling warmth seep through him at her touch. Deadly as she could be, she was also so damn soft in a way he relished. He loved having her under his touch at all times, though it did test his discipline. He’d place his hands on her, even for the most innocent of reasons, and he’d see the soft way her flesh would dip, giving way under his touch and he’d be fighting back his body’s basest reactions. 

That night he once again hooked her to his bed, unwrapped his lovely wife and indulged in her body. She gave him a light struggle as always, though he suspected it was mostly instinctual at this point. He could tell the moment her mind went somewhere else once more earlier during their talk with caesar, she was fighting it but it was happening. Back in the deep waters of madness he’d watched her wade through over the past several weeks. She was losing hope of leaving him, and watching the slow shattering of her mind was truly a work of art. To be chosen as the one to not only break her cute little mind, but put it back together was an honor. He followed in a long legacy of men every time he had her. To fill the role of Ares as he takes his Venus, it was the greatest honor. 

He had to be careful, not only was her stab wound slowly recovering, but she was now pregnant with his child. Perhaps the most deadly thing in the Mojave, brought low by his hand into his arms. Venus made flesh, carrying a small part of him, growing and nurturing his child with every beat of her heart. Fuck, the idea made him hard. He knew she would deny it, but the way she looked pinned beneath him there was simply no truth in denying it. She was something holy. He remembered how his entire being screamed at him to follow her back in Nipton, and that feeling revealed her to the Legion and brought her there under him. 

Every new discovery about her proved she was no earthly woman. When he placed his hands on her body, weathered as it was from the wasteland, something in his very soul knew he was touching something pure, that he owned something holy. The control she had over his body and heart was otherworldly. Sometimes just looking at her felt like someone was grabbing his heart and squeezing. Having her always at arms reach, well, he had chained himself to heaven. 

“My goddess-“ he sighed quietly, exasperated, overwhelmed even by the sheer love and lust she dragged out of him every time he glimpsed her naked body. “You are perfect” he placed a kiss to her forehead, just between the eyes. “I do this in worship.” He huffed out with conviction before he brought his lips to hers. The kiss was heavy, her jaw forced slack by the grip of his hand, and like a good girl she had no choice but to be all he had to do was squeeze to have her open her mouth to the exploration of his lips and tongue. After a long while of exploring the taste of her mouth and the feel of the back of her teeth, he let himself descend down her body to continue his make out session with a hopefully more willing and responsive hole. 

As hoped, taking the time to explore and enjoy her flavor before sucking on her clit mercilessly earned him some beautiful whines and glancing up he could spot her eyes getting wet and flicking down to him before she forced them defiantly back up to the tent’s roof. No matter her commitment to non-reaction, she still grabbed his hair and clawed at his shoulders when he kept her squirming hips and legs still by pinning them to the bed. He prayed through his ministrations for her to draw blood, for her to cut her touch into his flesh. 

She could not bite back the moans he pulled from her body, whining then moaning then sobbing then screaming. Occasionally she choked out a ‘please’ or ‘stop’ or ‘too much’ or his favorite, ‘vulpes’, his name ripping past her lips as if he was taking it by force. It was a sort of holy conquest, fighting for his wife and to keep his goddess cared for, they were labors of love. Keeping her under his touch, it was worship to him. He relished the delicious sting of the touch of his goddess. Her overwhelmed noises were as good as a religious sermon. Her body was scripture. Making her cum was performing a merical and fucking her, that was touching heaven. 

“So pretty-” He hummed over her cunt as he slid two fingers in, watching her spasm as he worked them. “Be a good girl, cum a lot or me, yeah?’ He huffed out before he dived back in, working in another finger and thrusting up hard where he now knew her g-spot was. His tongue alternated between circling her clit and sucking on it, and under the intensity of his devotions she screamed the prettiest, rapturous song for him. He sat there, kneeling in prayer for an hour at least as he traced his worship over her clit. 

During it she screamed and cried, scratched and beat at his back and begged him to stop, bucking into his face and arching away. She would learn it didn’t matter what she said or did, she would get what he decided she deserved. She could play silent all day if she wanted to, it would not remove her from his grasp. He knew dissociation when he saw it. That was okay, he’d slam her back into her body then send her spiraling off back into outer space over and over again till she couldn’t tell the difference between the two. In the end she just lay twitching and sobbing, and it was the most beautiful sight he was sure he’d see in his life; his cute little bride boneless and silently sobbing, looking up at him with these adorable glassy doll eyes. 

Once his back began to ache and she could only wail as loud as she could moan, he decided to indulge himself in her body. Her image would perhaps always be too much for him, and as much as he enjoyed searing his devotion into her body, she just looked so fragile, so exhausted and sorrowful twitching under him that he couldn’t help but spend the remainder of the night buried in her warmth. It was his right as a husband after all. He stripped the remainder of his clothes off and took himself in hand to the sight of her, flinching and pathetic beneath him. 

“So damn cute” He hummed, mostly to himself before grabbing her by her thighs to hike her hips atop his. She flinched in his grip as always, and her hands flew once more to his arms as she tried to push his touch away. Even exhausted and spent, mind gone somewhere to ignore the reality of where she was, her body knew what was coming next. Honestly she could not act a better bedslave for him if he trained her, each stage of her breaking left him breathless, in awe at her reactions to being confronted with reality and her new role in the legion. 

He lined himself up with her slick little entrance and slid himself in, slowly but sternly till his balls slapped against her ass. They both groaned as he made himself at home in her body. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of her tight, hot grip or the way her velvet walls pulsed around him so urgently with every movement he made. He hiked her hips up in his grip and set a quick pace, slapping her down over him with all the quickness and strength his body allowed him. She resumed her crying as he took his pleasure, singing for him as her voice pitched in tandem with each stutter of his hips. He brought his lips down to meet hers and he could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. 

The taste and feel of her body was addictive, and as he worked himself up in the warm clutch of her body he let his gaze grow hazy, spilling in her finally with a groan. He rocked his hips into hers as she cried, circling her hips unconsciously in overwhelmed twitches that left him groaning in the aftershocks. He pressed his hips up into her hard and rolled back onto his back, taking her with him and keeping himself deep inside her with an insistence. She pressed her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, huffing out her quiet tears. He let himself relax back into his bed under the soft weight of her. He pet down her back and let himself relish the moment. 

“You did so well” He spoke softly against her ear, turning his head to press his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent. She’d not be given the opportunity to do bad, but she still deserved praise for the tight clench of her body and her pathetic little sobs. “My pretty little wife.” He could feel her huff hard against his neck. He bucked up into her and kept her there to him in an iron grip. She felt so soft in his arms. He couldn’t wait to see her break into his perfect wife. “My perfect Venus.” all she could do was whine in his arms as he hummed. She may be playing the pathetic, miserable capture right now, but he knew he would be able to draw out that bloodthirsty, calm and clever little minx over time. He’d just have to wait.

[swannposting]

for the ask game! (from condolences this had me GAGGED the first time I read it!!)

finally responding to this askbox prompt!

Oh I love this scene and I loved writing it! This has some of my favorite blocking/visuals, the way we go from the key ring exchange to them walking arm-in-arm, then to *this* moment... I really like playing with the way they interact physically.

One thing about writing Condolences that was equal parts fun and challenging, was the decision to remain in Jack's POV for the entirety of the fic. It was super tempting to swap over to Elizabeth for a chapter or two, but I'm glad I stuck to it, especially for this scene.

So what's really fun about this setup is that Elizabeth truly did not know that Teague was Jack's father. I can't remember if I did (or could) make that entirely clear in the text, but I'll say it now- she isn't lying here. And in spite of what Jack thinks, she is genuinely contrite.

One of the things that I find really interesting about Elizabeth is that her willingness to do drastic things that she deems necessary does not negate the guilt that comes after. In the past, when she's made these kind of decisions (ex: not telling Norrington about the cursed pirates, leaving Jack to the kraken), she's been able to justify her actions by having done so in pursuit of saving someone else. This time around, she's acted on personal interest only, having evidently weighed the pros and cons and decided that she can live with any guilt that comes with it.

And then Jack shows up, and she's both afraid of being found out, and she's drowning in guilt at the revelation that she's taken Jack's father away from him. Post-AWE this is especially difficult, given what Jack did for her and Will, and that she's just lost her own father only a few years prior. This is why she pries in the first chapter-- she wants to know if this loss is as devastating for Jack as the loss of her own father was.

Of course, Jack's relationship with Teague is far from comparable to Elizabeth's relationship with Weatherby, and Elizabeth picks up on some of that, but she can't determine the full story, and she likely never will. So rather than come clean, she commits to the bit and plays into his affections for her, because she knows that this is a tactic that's worked before. But when he connects the dots and makes his accusation, she still expects him to retaliate in some way, which makes his affectionate reaction so jarring.

A key aspect of Sparrabeth to me, is that Jack's attraction is obvious to Elizabeth, and she uses that to her own ends, whatever those may be at the time. She's counting on his desire being somewhat blinding, but when he calls her out, she's sure that she's run out of grace in that regard. But we know that it's more complicated than that for Jack.

Also, I think there's a part of her that would have liked to reveal to Jack what she did, if she was certain that he had no love for Teague. Under different circumstances, she might feel proud of what she did, and she knows that Jack might admire her for it. He entered her life as a myth, a living part of the stories that fascinated her, so in some ways, she enjoys his approval as a pirate. In other ways, she knows him now as a real, deeply flawed human being, and she cares deeply for him.

So even though her plan to manipulate his affections seems to be working, she knows that now, with the truth laid bare, her plan shouldn't be working. And that's why she pulls away.

[edutainer2022]

Character Ask Game

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

For Scott.

@janetm74 Thank you so much for the ask!

I will revisit a little meta I did on getting to know Scotty as a character and have some additions.

"How do I love thee, let me count the ways". I stumbled into TAG through Tumblr osmosis I think some time in the second half of Season 1 run. I remember liking the 2004 movie, and I zeroed in on the "missing Dad" part, but I was generally amiably "on the fence" and non-committal. Nice boys, overall. A little bit too much focus on "child hero" Alan (because it's a kids cartoon and you're an adult, duh!). I was dabbing into bits and pieces here and there, not having a full picture. Tunnels of Time drew my attention, because of the sheer DEVASTATION Scott demonstrated. The elder brother and in charge sans Dad - I was bound to pay attention. John was the character I am - an introverted "intellectual". But the Tall, dark, charismatic and going kinda recklessly nyoooom didn't hurt either. Then I came across Recharge. And it hit me like that Runaway train. My Dad died when I was 22 and I took over as head of the family, as my Mom checked out in grief. I'm fairly sure I GAVE THAT SAME SPEECH in the Arctic tent to someone at some point - I miss him, I HAVE TO DO IT ALL (and do it fast), keeping busy with IR the PhD/work/postdoc/more work is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy. Verbatim. I'm still giving that speech sometimes. I saw a mirror of grief, self-worth issues and (non)coping mechanisms I recognized so much it was uncanny. So I knew these things: I've met yet another character that I know all too well what makes tick and will love forever - it's pretty much always the same character, give or take; the uppity Top Gun Flyboy persona is absolutely a facade - he's Tall, Dark, and Emotionally Compromised (hello there, sweetie!); I need to rewatch the earlier episodes keeping that in mind. And of course, Recharge (re)contextulizes everything - chasing a sizable city time and again to martyr himself for or to generally self-destruct, chasing Dad's shadow pretty much beyond the edge all but consciously (pretty candid for a kids show), going insane with a combo of worry, grief and guilt, keeping up the Next in Command mantle, sometimes just barely, the whole convo with Lee up to and including asking him to stay, the Chain of Command implications, the Hood's return implications, randomly adopting people and pushing them to be and do better. And just like that, I SAW Scott Tracy.

That was nine years ago, give or take. I've been through more losses, pressure of "command", responsibility, betrayal and just plain tragedy ever since. And every step of the way I feel I can relate to Scott more. The need to lift and inspire people to be their best selves - even when your own soul is writhing in pain and doubt. The crippling guilt over failure. The understated loneliness. The very unsubtle nonexistent concept of personal happiness. Being back in fandom also helped me explore (and confirm) and share lots of nuance about this character that I also felt were true. I wish for Scott a lot healthier emotional coping structure and support going on into his next decade than I got his age. He's my emotional support emotional wreck and disaster.

[chirpingfromthebox]

PWHL Minnesota's Post Game 5 Press Session

You can watch the whole thing here! Be sure to give their video some likes/views/nice comments/all the things that help them out for making these sessions so accessible.

At the table were Lee Stecklein and Kendall Coyne Schofield.

(and featuring special drop-in guest Kelly Pannek)

This is one with a lot of moments you really need to see or hear to fully appreciate. I've done my best to point out when something special is happening that isn't fully captured by the words, but you can only do so much. I've included all the questions.

Transcription (and minimal interruptions from me) under the break.

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REPORTER: Every championship, I’m sure, is special. But when you think about maybe 50 years from now people are talking about this one, what does it all mean to you in that sense?

KENDALL COYNE SCHOFIELD: There’s something very special about being the first to do something in life. And for us to be the first Walter Cup champions is something that is extremely special, that will be a part of this league’s legacy forever. You know, I’ve been a part of a lot of teams that have won and that haven’t won, and for whatever reason you remember the teams that win. And our coach had a talk to us about that this morning, coach Klee, when he said, “I won the Calder Cup-

[whispers to Stecklein] was it 30 years ago?

LEE STECKLEIN: [whispering back] 30 years.

KENDALL COYNE SCHOFIELD: 30 years ago today.” And one of his teammates reached out to him saying good luck and just the connection he has with that team that won it all.

I think when you end on top you never forget it. It’s a feeling that you chase every day. Whether you’re in the weight room, you’re on the ice; we’ve been chasing it all season. But the legacy of this trophy is only going to keep growing, growing, growing. But to be the first is an honor, it's a privilege, it’s extremely special. And it took an entire team effort to be champions. From start to finish.

If you look at the way that we won, you know, we were almost out. As soon as we knew we weren’t out- There were times that we got down but we never got out. And that group in there believed that we could be champions and we never lost sight of that. We believe in each other. It didn’t matter who was on the ice, we knew that that person on the ice, that line on the ice, that goalie in the net, was going to get the job done. And we did that.

LEE STECKLEIN: Yeah, I would just add, it’s always special to win any championship, any trophy, but [Lee starts to get choked up] to get to do it here and to get to do it with this person next to me is incredible, because we wouldn’t be here without her. She hates when I say it, but it’s so true. And she’s just a really special player, a really special person. And I am so grateful to have had this experience with her.

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REPORTER: Lee, out of curiosity after game 4, obviously a devastating loss for the team, you guys saluted your fans, you were all at center ice, you addressed your teammates, do you mind sharing what was said?

STECKLEIN: [laughing] I honestly don’t entirely remember.

R: [to Kendall] Do you remember?

COYNE SCHOFIELD: [smiling and putting her hand on Lee’s shoulder] I’m on the outside of the pile so I cannot hear over Lee.

STECKLEIN: I think, again, I mean, it sucks to think you’ve won and, you know, obviously that’s hockey. Call’s off and you have to figure it out. But we had a chance to figure it out. We had another game. It wasn’t over. Umm, so I hope I said something like that. [laughing] But I’m not positive.

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REPORTER: And for yourself Lee, you chose to step away from the National team and you’ve come back to play in this professional league, so where does this rank in things you’ve won and big games you’ve played in?

STECKLEIN: [Laughing] It’s impossible to rank things. When you get to win the last game of the year and hoist the trophy, you're just so grateful, because it’s always a special group. And it has to be to do something like this. It takes a team. A team that’s committed to each other, that believes in each other and the process. And like Kendall said, there were moments this year, unfortunately especially at the end, where we were pretty down and we were able to pull it together. I’m just really proud of this group and again it wouldn’t be possible without Kendall Coyne and her leadership.

R: And is it as heavy as they all say?

STECKLEIN: Oh yes.

COYNE SCHOFILED: It is heavy.

But just to echo on Lee a little bit too, is I always believe that winners win. They find ways to win. And when you look at Lee Stecklein’s career she’s literally won everything that there is to win in women’s hockey. You look at the minutes she’s played, you look at the leadership she shows on and off the ice. She doesn’t want me to talk about it, but she’s an unsung hero. And if you ask anyone in that room they would tell you that exactly. And I just think there’s a lot of winners in that room that have won big moments, but Lee’s done it all.

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REPORTER: Congrats you two.

STECKLEIN: Thank you.

KELLY PANNEK: [from off camera] You ladies done?

[Kendall and Lee start laughing]

We gotta go celebrate!

R: [to the other reporters] We ready to wrap it up?

Okay, time for two more.

STECKLEIN: [laughing] Dude, you're supposed to be here too!

[Kendall and Lee laugh]

PANNEK: I- I got- They don't want to talk to me!

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REPORTER: Visualization is so important in sports. And I have to imagine that a moment came last night before you fell asleep where you imagined what this would be like if you won. Can you compare what you imagined to the actual experience that you’re feeling right now?

COYNE SCHOFIELD: I don’t want to say I don’t remember what I- I just went to bed. I was tired. [Lee and Kendall laugh]

I had a 10-month old baby on the plane, I was exhausted.

No, I think we all went to bed knowing that this is it. This was game 5. I think that gave us, honestly, peace. Because we’ve gone the distance in each series. You know, we had a reverse sweep on Toronto. I think a lot of people counted us out in that moment.

[Kelly walks into frame wearing all the championship regalia and carrying a bottle of champagne in one hand and drops beers she had in her other down on the table for her teammates. Then disappears back out of frame.]

And then we move onto to this moment. We come from Toronto right to Boston and I think there was a lot of peace knowing that this was it. Like, it emptied the tank, not that we didn’t empty the tank every game that we played, including the double overtime game. We were exhausted after that.

Knowing that this was the last game, this was the last day of the season, this is the last day that this group will be together was something that I think we took peace in, pride in. And we went out and played like it.

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REPORTER: One more. A moment came at the end of June of last year when someone on the other side of the bargaining table said, "Okay, we have a deal. We have a CBA [Collective Bargaining Agreement]. We have a league." Tell me what you’ve imagined this season needed to be and how close it came.

[CFtB: I feel compelled to butt in here, to point out that you'd swear these last two question askers were auditioning for a play, because they ask these like they're presenting a work of art or something. By their questions and the way they ask them you'd swear they were authors hired to write the novelization of the season.]

COYNE SCHOFIELD: It’s hard to put into words when you start with a blank sheet of paper. And you’re envisioning all the things that women’s hockey has deserved for so long. And you build out that sheet of paper over time, over time, collaboration, conversation.

You know Stan [Kasten] will tell you that it was the most collaborative bargaining table he’s ever been a part of and I know he’s part of the Major League Baseball, so they’ve had their fair of negotiations. But what I think was so special about the conversation was, we want the same goal. We want this to be successful.

And them, you know, and I hate saying "them," because we were all on the same- yes, there’s two sides to a bargaining table, but we all wanted the same thing. And them asking, "What is it that you need? What is it that you want?" And listening to them too, to their experience in pro sport. You look at the other side of the table, Stan Kasten, Royce Cohen, you know, Billie Jean [King], Ilana [Kloss], the list goes on and on and on. We’re asking them, "What do you think?" And it’s not because they want something less or more, we want what’s right.

We got that piece of paper signed, but then to see it, to live it, and to experience in real time has been something that’s been very special. I can’t say thank you enough to all the people who are behind the scenes who’ve made this possible. I don’t think people realize the tireless days. It’s 24-7 in this first year. There were so many positives. There were so many things that we've learned that are only going to get better in year 2 and year 3 and beyond. But this league and all of their staff have worked around the clock for us to make this league as successful as it was in year one.

And you mentioned June, we signed that document in July 1 and we dropped our first puck January 1. Can you name another professional sport league that starts in 6 months? And in the capacity and the magnitude and the professional standard in which we’ve done every thing this year. I mean, it’s remarkable. And credit goes to the league, Mark and Kimbra Walter, and obviously the players who have battled their butts off all year long. All six teams.

So, yeah, I dunno if that answers your question.

[Kelly pops back into the table]

PANNEK: Wait, I’m gonna jump right in there, because she won’t say this-

COYNE SCHOFIELD: [with a look on her face like someone who knows their sibling is about to do something embarrassing:]

Kelly.

PANNEK: [pointing towards Kendall]

This. The only reason this happened? From players’ side? Is because of Kendall. Like, legit? The only reason. And she hates it. But it could not be a more fitting end for her to lift the trophy, for her to score the empty netter. It’s that woman right there. And to do it with a growing family and amongst all these other things, she still shows up and does her job every single day. Not just a hockey player. She has like seven other jobs on top of that. The biggest one is creating this league for all of us other players to play in.

COYNE SCHOFIELD: Thank you, Kelly.

PANNEK: We gotta go party, guys!

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[the reporter group starts to clap, but the one of the dudes who I'd swear are taking a creative writing class butts in quickly.]

REPORTER: Last- Last quick, last question, I promise. There’s no doubt in my mind that your lap at the all-star game led to all of this. Could you have imagined [long pause] that night [another long pause for the drama of it all] that it would lead you here? [ANOTHER PAUSE] To this moment?

COYNE SCHOFIELD: Yeah, that was a big moment for the sport. And while it was a 14 second lap, that was essentially heard around the world. It was a moment that catapulted the conversation that was so long over due. And that was: What is the reality of women’s professional hockey? And what does that look like? And how do we change it and how do we get there? And I believe that moment really catapulted the conversation and the efforts to get us where we are today.

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end of interview

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For anyone unaware, the all-star game lap the novelist/reporter was referring to was from the 2019 NHL All-Star Weekend when she became the first woman to compete in an NHL skills competition. And you can watch a video of that here.

[batsplat]

Bat……baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttttttttt. The Casey / vale web weave….oh my got I am unwell 🥲🥹🥲🥹 truly outdid yourself on that one holy hell

:))))) thank youuuu exactly the feeling i'm trying to evoke

obviously this specific topic is one where i could like... go at it again from a completely different angle with plenty of other material, like it's such a rich mine of parallels. i mean the big parallel between agassi and casey is of course the whole 'hating the sport they dedicated their lives to' thing - and we have valentino being baffled at agassi's pov, which!! if you read the quote about valentino going 'well EYE could never hate motorcycle racing' then that has such rich implications for the casey/valentino dynamic, like agassi almost acts as this fun little proxy that allows valentino to say things he wouldn't say directly *about casey*. and pair THAT with valentino thinking casey isn't a romantic rider and all the riders today are too serious and sad..... huh. thinking

anyway that was one thing i barely touched... another bit i was thinking about is that obviously comparing the 1995 us open final with 2008 laguna seca does involve a bit of artistic license in that casey sticks clear from describing the laguna loss in quite such apocalyptic terms. idk if casey was really 'fantasising about retirement', though... i mean, he could have been!! i think one thing that is so special about agassi is that he's actually willing to SAY stuff like that, like i've said this before but his gift is this real vulnerability where he's also willing to kinda make himself look weak, look like an idiot. like emphasising how extremely not seriously he took sampras before the 1990 us open final!! and i don't mean this as a BAD thing, but casey is just not capable of that kind of emotional honesty - certainly not publicly. like agassi is just definitely a lot more self-aware. and... if you're describing this loss as the turning point of your entire career, saying again and again how everything changed... i am still going to do a PROPER laguna post, hopefully in the next few weeks, but i think the more time you spend thinking about that race the more you begin to understand just why it was so emotionally devastating to casey. it doesn't send him on a competitive spiral the way it does with agassi. but you also need to not just pay attention to what casey's literally saying and also how often he's saying it and why he's framing it that way. he has a real morbid fascination with that race that to me did really remind me of the 1995 us open agassi experience. unlike agassi, he doesn't see it as a 'deserved' loss, so the bitterness and frustration is definitely DIFFERENT... but yeah. for both of them it is The Loss. it is valentino's great betrayal

and speaking of laguna 2008, if there was one quote i really would have liked to include but couldn't quite justify sneaking in, it's what valentino's crew chief jb said about that race in 2010 (x):

MM: I remember watching Rossi and Stoner through Turn 1. Rossi would come out of the final corner ahead, Stoner would start catching him and Rossi would slide across leaving Stoner only the outside line around Turn 1. JB: It wasn't a case of offering him anything, that was the only place to pass, it was a case of not giving him the ideal line. So if Casey was going to pass Valentino round a corner, it was going to be the long way round, which is the only place to pass, unless you do it in the braking area. My feeling at the time was that Casey probably only had one game plan, and having watched Casey over the years, he doesn't have a plan B. If it doesn't go his way from the outset, it's probably one of the weaknesses that he had through the youth that he had, through the lack of experience that he had. That's not a criticism of him per se, he was still only 22 at the time. And that was it, it was clearly a tactical race. They both cleared off in the vicinity of 20 seconds ahead of Chris Vermeulen, and Casey was able to pick it up after slipping off at Turn 11 and still finish second.

again this is something that will very much feature when i get around to properly dissecting that race, but to me this is crazy revealing on several levels. i mean, first off, i do always enjoy jb being a bit of a dick about valentino's rivals. i like the slagging off, i like it even more when he basically does some of valentino's psychological warfare *for him* like with jorge in 2009, i think it's a cute relationship and it's just conceptually kinda fun to have valentino's crew chief being so ride-or-die for him on the feuding front. like they quite simply do not make crew chiefs like that any more

secondly, i find the parallels with catalunya 2009 interesting in that jb is basically also calling casey too rigid - cf jorge not thinking anyone could pass at montmelo's final corner. again, it's valentino fighting against opponents who may well be faster than him (especially when it comes to casey) but just having this... creativity, intellectual flexibility going for him. casey needs to have a plan b, casey thought he was going to win that race easily, casey couldn't react when he was challenged

thirdly, obviously this does come round to playing into the whole ambition vs talent theme, where casey is this wild raw inexperienced talent who valentino bests with his brains and grit. keeps coming back to that somehow!! idk i know i've talked about this again and again but i just think it's neat to have what essentially amounts to a 'catchphrase' of a rivalry that also basically provides *the* central theme. and if there is one bit of wildly underappreciated casey/vale lore, it is that casey preempted his most infamous line THREE years earlier. like i swear *nobody* ever talks about this, including the guy who wrote the article where i found the quote, but casey literally says "in laguna he let his ambition to win take control over his technique"!! it's so fascinating!!

it does ofc confirm that jerez 2011 wasn't just some kind of spur of the moment bout of poetic genius. it's something casey had been stewing on for years!! casey feels at laguna 2008 that he *should* have won because he was FASTER, goes on a tear in the media, gets massive backlash, has to apologise to valentino, and then bides his time for several years to get the blow in when he is given the opportunity. in some ways it's so valentino-esque, like he's learning to bide his time from the very best. it's fantastic!! the whole thing's fantastic, it is so revealing. which, idk, to some extent the ambition vs talent thing is obviously a framing casey plays into himself - but to some extent it's a framing he finds deeply frustrating because obviously he does *not* enjoy the flip side of that contrast and the implication he is either less intelligent or less mentally tough. that's why it's so interesting that the one word casey used to describe himself is calculating, which does reject that particular dichotomy!! nyhh

fourthly, i feel like we do need to address the "one of the weaknesses that he had through the youth that he had" line. the jb/casey relationship forms such an interesting backdrop to this rivalry, where obviously they kindaaa knew each other and jb MAYBE would have liked to work with casey if valentino had fucked off to f1 and there was that whole quirky element of casey's italian team vs valentino's australian team and casey feeling a bit territorial over his home race and then casey becoming extremely resentful towards jb in those last few years to the point where jb gets slagged off in casey's autobiography... idk, obviously it's a throwaway line but i can't help it, i can't not be interested in valentino's crew chief basing his psychological profile of casey in part on what casey's childhood/adolescence was like, ofc implying that this is something jb is very much aware of

and if you're saying casey is intellectually rigid and doesn't have a back-up plan because of what his youth was like then that means... what, exactly? idk i think you can read that in several ways - and it really does reveal a certain level of thought being put into casey's psychology!! and if you think about jb's role as valentino's proxy and how they ofc hatched The Laguna Plan together and again that remark valentino made about young riders closing up and becoming serious and sad because they were being put under too much pressure... i mean, look, it's obviously not a big revelation that valentino put some serious thought into casey's psychology, like i reckon you can figure it out if you simply. watch that race. but yeah, just getting these little hints confirming it, of valentino carefully studying casey like the intricate puzzle he was... i might be off-base here but my personal interpretation is that... i think valentino *did* see casey's joylessness as a weakness of sorts, this seriousness born from the pressure casey had been put under as something that limited his creativity. treating racing too much as a profession and not a passion, a struggle to adapt to valentino uprooting the status quo...

idk, i obviously am deeply compelled by both valentino and casey watching and studying each other so closely, even though we have heard way more of the conclusions that casey has drawn than vice versa. i think that's really the magic of laguna 2008 - and by extension the entire rivalry - the specificity of the whole thing. the race would not work so well if it involved any other two riders than valentino and casey, it relies on the build-up, it relies on the precise conclusions valentino has drawn about casey's psyche and where he decides to attack him, it relies on casey's complicated and at times tortured feelings towards valentino. it relies on that dichotomy between wild talent and ruthless cunning, it relies on the faster rider losing the race. it relies on that specific track and its specific character. i kinda feel like that makes the race pretty unique where the whole thing depends... so heavily on the specific contours of their relationship, of how they match up as athletes, like if you altered a single detail you would make the whole thing worse. it's such a rich text!!

even though i don't understand shit about motogp, i am always someone who likes to analyse my sports first and foremost As Sports. like i think you can kinda get rich narratives anywhere, you can get them in plenty of fiction i've been told, but crucially the thing about sports is that it's such a controlled playground with these specific modes of interactions and structures and rules shaping the landscape of the narrative. and when i'm looking at sports rivalries, what i really want to see is how interpersonal relations and even, y'know, Themes TM are expressed through the *fabric* of the sport itself. which obviously is extremely easy for me to do with tennis, and i do think tennis is also kinda ideal for that given how interactional the sport is at its very core - the cliche goes that tennis is a game of match-ups. every single match is a deeply rich text that i can analyse if i am so inclined - though there the sports element is unfortunately often a lot more compelling than any sort of overarching narrative. with motogp, i do need a bit more hand-holding. i think what makes laguna 2008 so great for both new and veteran fans of the sport is that it's so *visceral*. you see this relationship and the emotions behind it play out in front of your eyes with relatively little knowledge of the intricacies of motorcycle racing needed. you are immediately dropped into the narrative, you are immediately presented with these two contrasting characters in violent combat - you immediately learn so much about them. you watch them learning about each other. it's great!! guys, it's so great. they're so great

[the-elder-polls]

Thought I had more notes for my ten years after skyrim thing, uh, enjoy(or don’t lmao /silly) trying to make sense of my rambles and made up ranks hehe /pos~

(I think this first one was for my ash’abah oc’s backstory I’m working on? But it pretty much relates to whats going on in cyrodiil)

For reference for later: Whats actually going on is my nerevarine oc, devryne motmalvel, who had achieved chim long ago- and was locked up in the shivering isles since the events of the game morrowind for his betrayal- he sided with and may or may not have married dagoth ur- which resulted in the whole vvardenfell crisis with dagoth ur to still be ungoing a few years later during the oblivion crisis. After the Oblivion crisis was over, an argonian by the name of Zz’eishadei, also known as the false incarnate, did what he was supposed to do and destroyed the heart- killing dagoth ur, and temporarily weakening him for long enough for him to be cast away… and unfortunately perhaps for him Sheogorath was pretty damn pissed to say the least that Devryne could have completely altered everything, hence him getting locked up there. But, somehow, he eventually escaped mid skyrim dragon crisis- but lost his memories. He near single handedly ended the civil war in the stormcloak’s favour- simply because all he could remember was a deep sense of something being missing, and a hatred for the imperials- his chim coming in handy… but after the dragon crisis was over… he soon got his memories back. Utterly enraged and consumed with grief, he turned his anger towards cyrodiil- the False Incarnate who killed his husband was long dead… But those his husband was determined to end had to pay in his mind… So Devryne marched forth, bringing renewed corprus with him, wishing but to change everything in Dagoth’s image… but for right now he’s simply hiding, letting the disease spread… raising his forces, with the sole Ascended Sleeper that survived so long- who may or may or have been his ashlander friend he betrayed by siding with dagoth so long ago- by his side… and it is these corprus infested people- mostly ‘ash zombies’, thought to be odd zombies- little do they know they aren’t even undead- by those in cyrodiil who know next to nothing of what happened in Vvardenfell nearly two centuries ago… Kaffaljidhma doesn’t know either, but he is determined to protect those he can, and ‘let the dead rest’. 

In the recent years, after the slow decline of the formerly ruling political party, the argonian tribes have returned to their more peaceful ways- and rule by council. However due to recent… issues ‘cross tamriel, they have elected a Wo’nassa- a rank which hasn’t exactly existed before- or ‘highest elder’, to negotiate with the other provinces for the Hist, and to help with this… Moons-great-Song has quite literally had one of it’s seeds implanted in their brain.

Emperor Duilius Urbicus of Cyrodiil- mage king, and suspected demigod, swiftly took control and elevated his family to nobility during the power vacuum caused by Titus Mede II’s assassination. Luckily for the other provinces, he seems content to strengthen his own people, in oppose to to the near endless campaigns against the other provinces… but this is somewhat out of necessity, due to the unexplainable deaths in the province’s rural regions…

Mane Ri-do’adsaad-dro is… certainly one of the less… conventional manes. Lover of music, talented bard- and more so the region’s best storyteller than the great warrior one would expect… Yet his extensive array of knowledge has lead to him being surprisingly wise- but wisdom helps little when that which has been forgotten starts to usher in the end.

High-King Sadalmelik may have been a hero in his province’s rebellion against the now dissolved Dominion, but the losses have left significant scars- mental more so than physical. He wishes he could step down… but he knows his people would be devastated to know the man they uphold so much is, as he personally believes ‘a broken coward’.

High-Queen Ysabel Baujart~ no clue yet, buuuut she’s more than a bit annoyed with the rampant piracy on her coasts-.

Morrowind is currently lead by a council between the leaders of the current five great houses- once six of the seven (uh house dagoth was still sixth but there was a seventh in my au lmao), but not at all unfortunately House Dres has found all its ‘nobility’ unexplainably murdered. Nobody cares enough to investigate. Council consists of: Archmagister Telvanni Guirylhe, Archmaster Redoran Llarvynya, High-Guildmaster Sadras Hlervo, Morasunnar Imyoren Foluiyem, and Seneschal Indoril Eleriyran.

The Navarch of Pyandonnea… The first true ‘ruler’ of the maormer after it’s god king died long ago in the war against Psijics. It was they who brought the Maormer back into the knowledge of the other provinces- and, luckily, has lead them to be significantly less… isolationist and violent. First and foremost the Navarch leads it’s fleets, but most surprisingly… They struck an alliance with the Altmer? Rumours have it they’ve united against a common enemy, but all seems calm in boths’ lands…?

High-Queen Alfhildr, not sure about her either lol, but she stole the prestige of the ldb destroying Alduin- and well, as Kedhur was kind of turned to ash, and the blades never helped him- nobody can prove she’s lying- her ability to use a plethora of shouts definitely helps. Literally only ruling because the occupying imperials were wiped out, and a certain member of the dbh killed the stormcloak leaders-.

Queen Eilyri of the Altmer is totally not actually a daedra pretending to be an altmer- but it is certain that she’s a bit odd for her people, and one of those responsible for the dominion and the thalmor’s downfall. 

Valenwood is primarily lead by the current Silvernar (Baeindril) and Greenlady (Galbreitneth) at the moment- but King Ulwaglianor is in charge of diplomacy- very very against a recent island that has magically been torn out of their land to make a small floating kingdom- yet has been unable to reach it. 

(i recommend zooming in on those images to read them)

good LORD that's all so much storytelling i'm impressed!! so many fun and interesting and admittedly macabre or downright tragic characters, i love it

[teafootballandmore]

"If you want to pretend jude is a good person do it without using kylian for your crazy narrative. Using that weird ass video to pretend he's supportive and a good friend to kylian lmfao you're actually mentally ill."

Anon, so you can understand the whole dressing room scenario from just a f*cking clip? I'm a Kylian girl and I follow the page from the last 40 days when there was so so much hate about Kylian and even there was tag n some people were even laughing at Kylian's look and everything... Thankfully she stopped posting hatred! But I really never thought Jude ignored/disrespected him. Jude was probably a bit frustrated but he always seems to understand / connect in the pitch with Kylian better than anyone else. His post match words also reflect that.

As fans it is really the toughest time for us to survive through contagious hatred and criticism and harassment, but I think people are gradually realising how much the impact of pressure and hate (which he doesn't deserve) can harm someone! We never know if he will ever regain his confidence and bring back the 'Kylian' inside him, we can just pray and hope! 😞 He just need a little support and love ( he is soooo unloved for no reason). I hope those who don't even like him just pray a little for him, for the sake of 'Football '. Because if we lose (let everyone destroy) a player like him at the age of 25, just because of pressure and cyberbullying (and many more things probably), it will be our loss.

I don't know how many will agree with me because some people really think we can't get anything from him, he is finished... But I don't believe this. Sorry for the long post. I'm really devastated. 💔

I remember you girl 😉 Nice to hear from you again ❤️

I really think Jude likes support Kylian. They seem to have geniue connection.

I don't agree with one thing that he's unloved with no reason. Many people (me include) are disappointed in his attitude on the pitch. He doesn't seem to make effort or care that much about results. Him not coming to fans after lost game when other players did is also not good look.

But that being said you can see something is wrong with him. He seems lost, sad and like he already give up. I think making diagnosis through internet is wrong but if he has mental health problems I really hope he's going to get help 🙏

[ladyaislinn]

4. November 2024 

‘The Diplomat’ Star Rufus Sewell On Hal’s Major Season 2 Screw Up & What’s To Come: “It Has Devastating Consequences”

Sewell spoke with Deadline about what is, perhaps, Hal’s biggest screw up to date, what it means for him and Kate, and where things might go in Season 3 (which has already been ordered and is currently in production).

DEADLINE: I’m excited to be chatting with you, especially because I’m happy that Hal is even alive. Did you know at the end of Season 1 that Hal would survive?

RUFUS SEWELL: Yes, they were kind not to do that, so I had been assured. I mean, the idea otherwise reminds me in a very funny way, when I was young… I think it was Dynasty, they had a big explosion. I can’t remember the show, actually, but it was unclear who survived and what happened. I think it was a tactic to stop any of the squabbling actors from being overzealous with their renegotiations, because no one would be quite sure if their head was on the chopping block or not. But it was nice to know that. I mean to tell you the truth, as far as I’m concerned, I was such a lover of the writing, if I’m a big fan of doing something that I love and stopping it, I’d always rather have my character blow up than be kept around afterwards in a kind of neutered fashion. My fear has never been being killed off in anything I’ve done. It’s being kept around after in a pointless fashion. But I trust the writing that that wouldn’t happen.

And what I always say to the producers, if my character is going to win, can you please let him lose straight after? Because there’s something really deadening about winners. It’s got to be about loss and difficulty and f*cking things up and things going wrong, expectations going the other way. It’s very boring to play someone who’s right, and so I love the trouble.

Since Game of Thrones, people are unsure of the ground on which they act, because part of me was like, that would be the baller move. And if that had been the move, I would have respected it, but they would have given me some nice cushioning warning and a couple of really big, lovely scenes before it happens.

DEADLINE: Well, it’s funny you should mention that, since Hal really does screw up in a big way at the end there.

SEWELL: A big bone of contention between them is that he, famously, in their world, has an incredible reputation for pulling off feats that were just unimaginable…an ability to see something and without worrying for the consequences of it going wrong, shooting for it with great success and occasionally without, and the ability to kind of block out the compunction about about the effects on other people, in order to carry these things through. In some cases, that’s a sign of greatness. Also, the lack of care, seeming care, for collateral damage, if things go wrong, has been a big contention for them. Part of the story of Season 2 is that she sees herself now that actually it does come with a job. She’s beginning to see herself like him, and it makes her angry. So the thing that he does at the end is one of those things, the right call and, if you’re the president, the only things that reach your desk are 50/50 decisions, because if it’s if it’s 48/52 then that’s easy, right? So this is a case of him making the right call, [but also] the wrong call because of what happens, and it has devastating consequences.

DEADLINE: I figured when we saw Hal talking to the president, this was going to backfire on him, but I just really did not expect that the president would die! What was your reaction to reading that script for the first time?

SEWELL: The thing that hits you is the brilliance of the drama of it. When I first read these scripts, it was the dynamic of the relationship, the humor that got me. ‘The audience will love it,’ I was thinking. But actually, the more extraordinary the terms of the story are and the weight and the dynamic of the tectonic shifts in the situation around them, the more it highlights that thing that I love about their essential relationship. It just gives you something more. The context for your quieter and funnier moments is all the more rich. So it gives me what I love as well. I thought the cliffhanger at the end of Season 1 was like a kind of, ‘Oh, I see what you’re doing.’ And [the cliffhanger] into Season 3, oh, my God. But I love it, because it just gives us more and more texture.

DEADLINE: At the end of Season 2, Kate is confronted with this idea that her attraction to Hal is in part due to his ‘misbehavior’ or his tendency to break the rules. Do you think that is a factor?

SEWELL: Oh, it most certainly does. In a relationship, you can meet someone and your neurosis shake hands under the table, unbeknownst to you. These weird little contracts are signed without our knowing, and everything that is right has the seeds of everything that is wrong, and they get mixed up. And in my experience, not just from my own life, but looking at the world, wanting someone to change is the same instinct as wanting to obliterate someone in that it can be the case that when someone finally does make the shift that you have been pushing them to make, it is your moment of release. It doesn’t necessarily mean that that is the beginning of your new relationship. It could signal the end.

Sometimes the things we tell ourselves that we like, we tell us ourselves that we want, and we tell ourselves there are reasons, just little comforting narratives unconsciously constructed for ourselves, when the opposite could have just as strong a magnetic pull. I think that is not just true of them. I think it’s true in a lot of relationships, and it’s definitely true that what you might call the worst of them is also the best of them. That’s why their rouse and their political scheming is caught up with their sex and it’s all part of it. They don’t have to stop talking about politics to get horny.

DEADLINE: To your point, that scene in Season 2 right after she finally admits she wants to be VP…

SEWELL: Right? Game recognizes game. People ask me if this part has changed the way I think, but it’s more the case of I read something and suddenly I pull together a load of half-projected thoughts that I’ve had all the way through my life, that suddenly come together in a crystallization of something that I’m reading. So it’s a recognition of something you didn’t know you knew. I remember seeing a clip of Obama and Bill Clinton backstage before they went on to charm everyone with their combined [charm] — you could see there was a bit of Dark Vader in both of them. They weren’t smiling at each other…to see the the necessary killer for the good in them both…when [Hal] sees that in Kate, he’s like, ‘That’s my girl.’ It’s not about bad versus good. It’s about, in order to do good, not be nice, in order to do good, you have to know also when to kill. I think that’s the parcel of the scene around the table with me, with him, Kate and Grace, where I go for her, it is the moment to take your political opportunity.

DEADLINE: Last season, you and Keri had a scene where she tackles you in the woods. This season, it’s wrestling on the bed. How is it to get that silly in a show with such serious stakes?

SEWELL: There’s a version of Keri that I call the fraggle, which is that thing that came at me through the bushes. She gets this little kind of ancient Greek glint in her eye…we were looking forward to it, because it was the moment that really sealed the tone for us. You might think of it as an extreme, but the tone for me is the shift between very real and serious and real and silly in the blink of an eye. Yes, we always love bits like that, but I saw that after that the seeds of that potential. It’s always there in the same way that the seeds of killing off a main character are always there for Game of Thrones onwards. There’s nothing about the tone of the scene that precedes it that means any better off. So when we do those things we do it all ourselves, but we work out some basic physical moves so that we can be completely free without anyone’s nether regions being crushed irretrievably, by which I mean mine. She’s the one that’s picking up branches and swinging them.

DEADLINE: So you’ve started production on Season 3. How has that been?

SEWELL: The end of the end of Season 2 is really something. It keeps on going from there…This is all just fantastic material. So far, we’re having so much fun. One thing is that now we’re doing a little bit in England, a little bit in America too, which is nice.

Video Kate and Hal Have an Argument Video Kate & Hal | The Diplomat | HD Kiss Scene

[creeperthescamp]

calcelmo being a big dwemer scholar and yet not knowing how the dwemer disappeared despite all the evidence from morrowind is definitely frustrating (and I think I have made a post like that too) but something I've wondered about is what on earth was bethesda implying with that?? they obviously know what happened in Morrowind and make reference to it in other parts of Skyrim so ???

I think they really missed an opportunity to explore the concept of source survival and reliability and introduce this whole other field of consequences of the red year! Like how much of the events of morrowind's main quest is actually recorded? what do people remember?

we know that events from the previous games are written as books from different perspectives with their own biases (biography of barenziah/the real barenziah) but morrowind was really the last game that had most of its lorebooks specialised to its setting. as far as I can remember we don't actually get any centralised accounts about how the nerevarine defeated dagoth ur in oblivion or Skyrim, mainly cos many of the lorebooks are grandfathered in from morrowind. the defeat of dagoth ur and the fall of the tribunal are simply condensed into a paragraph and tacked onto the end of existing books with no primary sources. and we know that the red year absolutely devastated vvardenfell and the dunmer living there (also the oblivion crisis? never really mentioned anywhere) so there was a very short window of time for anyone to gather some primary sources and try to verify what happened. and even if they did they might not have survived the eruption anyway.

given the info available to the dragonborn within Skyrim it could be entirely possible for calcelmo to treat any theories about the dwemer's disappearance with suspicion, and say that we just don't know what happened to er on the side of caution! but! he never actually elaborates on any of these things and I think that's the thing that really sucks for players who either know about morrowind or don't want to be treated like an idiot!

if Skyrim actually explored the implications of calcelmo's dialogue I think there could've been a really interesting moment for the player where they might feel a sense of loss from having knowledge that can't be known by the dragonborn and shared with npcs like calcelmo! perhaps then playing multiple tes games gives the player a sense of existing on a cosmic scale!

and having that context would also make doing arniel's endeavor WAY more funny

[dominimoonbeam]

I Don't Know You - 3

The David/Huxley amnesia fic!

I Don't Know You - 3

The next day was a parade of visitors. People came over all day in twos. Huxley’s team captain coordinated their visits, texting with David so as not to knock on the door. He reminded the players before going in that they were to be quiet. Hux didn’t remember half of them from his team but some of them he knew from playing against them in college games and his captain he knew by reputation.

Still, he seemed happy to see them. David had set him up in the corner of the couch and kept the lights low, trying to give the illusion of staying out of the way by loitering in the kitchen.

Sometimes Huxley remembered a game when the others were reminiscing about a play. David’s heart pounded then. They were little memories, but they were filtering back up to the surface when he wasn’t trying to reach them. He could see how excited some of Huxley’s teammates were when they realized it too, and grateful to them when they didn’t point it out or press for more.

Asher had been there all day, outside, talking to the parade of hockey players rolling through. He made it seem like he was just there to hang out, but David knew he was there in case someone needed to be bounced.

Damien and Lasko came that evening, after the team, and even though Huxley was obviously tired, he was also incredibly happy to see them. The relief when he threw his arms around them made David’s heart ache to be remembered too.

He went outside then. He didn’t need to hover while Damien and Lasko were there. He knew they wouldn’t overstep or do anything to hurt Huxley. Damien would burn the house down before he let anyone hurt his family. Although, David did hope it didn’t come to that.

He dragged a deep breath outside and sat down on the porch. Asher came over and sat next to him. “Do you want a hug, boss?”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled.

Asher laughed and threw an arm over his shoulders. “A bunch of the pack want to visit but I told them to wait. It’s already a lot today and…” his words trailed off and died.

He was going to say, “And he doesn’t remember any of us.”

Asher sagged a little beside him.

David looked at his friend and caught the glimpse of his own heartbreak there. Asher and Huxley had been close. So had Huxley and Babe, and Huxley and Milo, and Huxley and Sam. Everyone loved Hux. They went on group trips, had almost weekly barbeques at the house, and regular double dates. Christ, he and Asher had had a joint wedding. The idea that Hux just didn’t know them anymore, that he might not remember them ever, was devastating.

He also saw the moment Asher realized he was being watched and perked up, putting back on a supportive front. He knew why. It was the same reason none of them would be able to talk to him about their own feelings right now—because his loss would always be bigger than theirs.

David ruffled Asher’s hair, palming the back of his head.

Asher pretended to hate it the same way he had since they were kids.

“He remembered some of his games,” David said, quiet like it was fragile.

Asher blinked. “What? Really?”

David nodded. “When the team was in there talking to him… Some of the games were just last year. I don’t think he realizes that though. He just remembers the plays or the win.”

Asher beamed. “That’s awesome!

David hoped so.

-

Huxley was dead tired and his head had been hurting pretty badly for the last couple hours, but he’d been trying to hide it. He didn’t want David to call off the visits. He didn’t want to be shut up in that room he didn’t recognize or lay down in that bed where he always felt like something was missing, more than a little terrified that he knew what that something was.

“You guys are… together?” Huxley asked. Lasko hadn’t let go of Damien’s hand since they walked in, other than those few minutes where they each hugged before settling down on the couch with him.

They did let go of each other then, almost jumping apart like they were kids who got caught. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I mean… It was… Well, it’s not a secret,” Lasko rushed to explain, words rolling out but still in a whisper. “It’s been like a year and Damien works-works at the university but we’re not like in the same department or anything and you were one of the first-first people we told.”

“Dudes, I’m happy for you. I’m sorry I don’t remember…”

Lasko exhaled relief and Damien almost subconsciously rubbed his back, while looking at Huxley. “Don’t be. You were happy for us the first time too. So, how are you doing? This has to be really stressful…”

Huxley laughed a little. His head hurt behind his eyes, but he tried not to squint too much. “Yeah. It’s been… well, it’s been really weird.”

“The memories will come back though,” Lasko said, almost urgent with his optimism.

Huxley smiled, grateful that they came, that his whole team had come. He was really lucky.

“And if they don’t, you get to do a bunch of firsts over again,” Damien countered.

“Firsts?” Huxley asked.

Damien smiled. “Yeah. Have you seen your garden yet?”

Huxley blinked. “No.”

“It’s pretty impressive. You and David work on that thing all year. You should go see it before your memories come back. It’s not often you get to surprise yourself with your favorite things.”

Huxley and Lasko both stared at Damien.

The room got a little warmer, the fire elemental flustering. “What? Was that the wrong thing to say? I just thought—”

“No,” Huxley smiled. “No, that’s a pretty cool way of looking at it.”

Damien exhaled relief and sputtered, looking away.

“So…” Huxley started again, glancing toward the empty kitchen. David had gone outside. “We still hang out, right?”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “What? Yeah, all the time. I mean, we all have our own schedules, but we get together at least a few times a month.”

Huxley nodded, relieved. “And…” he hesitated. Why did he need to ask at all? Maybe because he was living in a house with a stranger?

A warm hand took his and he realized he’d closed his eyes. Damien had reached across Lasko to take his hand, both of them watching him with so much care. “Ask it,” Damien said, voice steady and low. “Whatever it is, just ask it.”

“Do you like David? Is he… are we good?”

Damien stared at him. He wouldn’t lie to him, Huxley was sure of it. If Damien had any doubts, if there was anything to know or worry about, Damien would know it and he would tell him. He looked him dead in the eyes and said, “He’s great. You’re great. He’s always made us feel like we were family, honorary members of the pack even.”

Lasko nodded. “You guys were really happy.”

Huxley nodded, not sure why that didn’t make him feel better. Maybe because it just felt like he’d lost something big? And taken something from David too…

Damien gave his hand another squeeze. “If it’s ever too much, you can always stay with us. You know that, right?”

Huxley huffed a tired, strained laugh. His headache was officially making it hard to keep his eyes open. “Like that would go over well…”

“Hux…” Lasko’s quiet voice drew his attention, forcing his eyes open again. Lasko looked worried.

Damien spoke. “You’re not being held prisoner. David’s going to care and he’s going to worry if you leave, but he’s not keeping you here. You could go with us if you wanted to.”

Huxley blinked. It felt like a cold bucket of water. Had he really been thinking David was going to stop him from leaving? Maybe. But even knowing he could leave, could go home with his friends and be with people he knew… he didn’t want to go. Not really.

“Are you guys staying for dinner?” Huxley asked.

Damien still looked worried.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, of course… I don’t know what—”

Lasko shook his head. “No. We can stay!”

Knuckles tapped so quietly at the front door that they barely heard it before the door opened and David walked in, his friend on his heels.

Damien was still holding Huxley’s hand and made no move to drop it, the three of them almost snuggling in Huxley’s corner of the couch now. He turned his head toward the shifters. “David, what do you have for dinner? The prince is hungry.”

Huxley wasn’t sure what he’d expected but Damien comfortably demanding food and the alpha huffing and walking into that open kitchen to list off their oven-ready options wasn’t it.

David’s friend sat in one of the big chairs, talking to Lasko and stealing glances at Huxley. He felt like he should recognize him and knew that he should. He was in a bunch of the pictures on the walls, but he didn’t know his name until David said it, telling Asher to get people drinks.

Asher. Yeah, he had seen him the other night at the hospital too.

How many people had Huxley hurt by forgetting the last three years? He would know if he could remember…

-

Everyone had gone and it was just the two of them.

Huxley’s head was splitting but he still stood there, torn between needing to lay down and wanting to step closer to David. Only he didn’t know him.

“You should get some sleep,” David said, his voice that low rumble that made something ease inside Huxley’s chest. “I’ll grab you another pill for the pain, okay?”

“It’s not that bad,” Huxley said, but he wasn’t sure if he was right. His head really hurt. He’d barely been able to keep his eyes open the last half hour.

“Go get in bed. I’ll grab some water and the meds.”

Huxley nodded and ducked down the hall, toward that room.

He stopped a few steps inside, feeling somehow both out of place and at home at the same time. It was confusing. The room was frustrating. He’d been trying to avoid it. He went into the adjoining bathroom and brushed his teeth. David had had to tell him which brush head was his that morning.

He heard David in the bedroom and when he came back from the bathroom, David was changing his clothes. He was down to a pair of black briefs, long muscular limbs and a board back. Huxley stared, thinking he should look away but not doing it. David pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Huxley wasn’t sure which ones were his and which ones were David’s. Their clothes seemed to be mixed together. David tossed his shirt into the hamper and pulled a new one from a drawer. It was a loose fit and he ruffled his hair with a yawn.

This had to be exhausting for him. His spouse was just gone and he was basically babysitting Huxley. What had they been like before, when it was just the two of them? What did they talk about? What did they do?

“Hux?” David asked, closer.

Huxley snapped his eyes open again, realizing he’d pressed them shut. “Sorry.”

David shook his head, obviously worried. “Today was a lot. The healers said you needed to rest but…”

“It was nice to see everyone.”

He nodded, picking up something off the bedside table and a glass of water and bringing it over to where Huxley still stood. “Everyone really wanted to see you. I can’t blame them.”

Huxley took the water, feeling heat climb his face. He put out his palm and let David tip the pill into his hand. “Thanks,” he said and took the medicine, the word feeling like too little. He drained the water and walked to the bed, putting the glass down. “For, all of this. I know this has to be awful for you…”

He looked up and David was watching him, unreadable. Was he really unreadable or was it just that Huxley couldn’t read him? His heart beat faster under that gaze. “Where’s my phone? I should set an alarm or—” he babbled, tearing his gaze away almost frantically.

“You don’t need a—Wait,” David jerked a step closer, arm out when Huxley reached for drawer on the bedside table in search of his phone.

Huxley stared down at the contents, heat rising to his face. Lube, toys, rope, polaroids…

He closed the drawer and jumped to his feet. He kept thinking about the contents—about those pictures. He wanted to see them, suspecting he might be in them, but still feeling like an intruder. “I’m so sorry, dude,” he rushed out.

David sighed. “You don’t have to apologize… Everything in this house is ours.”

Huxley nodded, trying not to think about the details of that. Everything was theirs. Everything in that drawer was theirs… He took a step back. “You know, you basically slept on the floor last night. You should take the bed tonight and I’ll crash on the couch.”

David stared at him.

Huxley couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Fuck. Fuck, this was so awkward and he was the reason. He was the one making it worse.

“Take the bed, Hux. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Huxley shook his head but David was already walking around him, to the door, getting there before him.

“Get some sleep, please. You don’t need an alarm. You just need to rest,” he said on his way out, gently closing the door behind him.

Huxley dragged a breath, staring at that shut door and wondering if David was still there.

[lightbluetown]

happy new years eve everyone! here's an overly-personal post of me reflecting on 2023 ✨

have i ever told you guys that i had no idea ofmd was a queer show when i first started watching it? i really didn't know the first thing about it-- i'd never even seen a picture of stede in my life. it took me almost three weeks to veeery gradually get through the first three episodes. i enjoyed them, but only felt like tuning in during dinner on weekends. i've been around fandom spheres for twelve years but i've never been part of a big fandom myself (or of any fandom that wasn't related to video games or, well, anime). certainly didn't think that would change anytime soon. yet suddenly, a mere three weeks before the start of season 2, i heard the words "you wear fine things well" and all the circuits in my brain were reset

2023 had definitely been a suboptimal year for me until then-- devastating natural disasters, personal losses, deep political problems, the uszh. not to mention the terrible injustices and wars happening around the world. i tend to protect myself from negative thoughts and fear by letting hyperfixations consume me (as i'm sure many people can relate) and boy did ofmd do the job! especially with the excitement of s2... i didn't even realize when october came to an end, it just flew by! i excitedly watched every episode as soon as they came out, made some silly posts on this blog that i'd randomly decided to make... yes, the fandom has its fair share of problems, and i see annoying takes in my twitter fyp basically every day, but eh, i've seen (and been in) worse communities. my experience has been lovely! i love all the beautiful fan art, gifsets and meta posts here. people are so passionate, which only makes my passion grow stronger. i really appreciate it.

unsurprisingly, i've consumed basically everything you can possibly consume that features rhys/the new zealand gang (i've become a diehard fotc fan too). sorry for the sudden dark turn but a really close friend of mine tragically passed away the day after my birthday in november. i don't think i would've moved on with my life if it wasn't for the very welcome distraction provided by these series. especially ofmd of course

ofmd isn't just a silly fun comedy show, it isn't just a love story, at least not to me. it's the story of a man who's spent his life feeling lost, left out, left behind, unwanted, unloved, unneeded. a middle-aged gay man stuck in aristocracy who, for some reason, i can deeply relate to as a young queer person stuck in the middle east. it's the story of people like me freely and unapologetically being themselves, fighting to live their lives filled with joy and love, even in less-than-ideal conditions. it's given me a lot of strength and hope when i needed it. i would've had a much worse memory of 2023 in my mind if it hadn't been for ofmd

so yeah. 2023? not a huge fan! glad it's over! but i'm really glad ofmd was part of it!! i'll remember the past four months fondly, i'll keep loving the series for many months to come and i'll hopefully enjoy a third season with other fans. i'm excited! i hope 2024 will be better for everyone

thank you all!!