#but i need to not squander my time. gotta really get to proper work on it all.

[orcelito]

Tonight's the last night in the cabin, which means tomorrow I'm gonna be in the car for 6 hours 😑

But then on Sunday I'll be back home to my kitties 🥺🥺🥺 so I just gotta stay strong... gonna be home before too long...

[barafishu]

Glorified Jail: Part 1

Here it is, I finally posted something! I’ve had this in my drafts for so long that it feels good to finally put it out there for someone to read. Now, this is going to have parts to it (which I’m still polishing). But I’d like to thank everyone for being so kind and patient with me. So, without further ado, here you go! Enjoy!

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Male Reader x Deer Minotaur (Nyx)

I was walking to my job, it just being another of work for me. I walked up some old, metal stairs to where all the workers go. When I walked in, I saw the costume designer with pins in his mouth. "Early as always, Jiàn," He spoke through clenched teeth. "Of course, gotta set an example for the other performers," I replied. "That's my boy!" I turned to see my boss, Catherine Valdez. "It's almost time for everybody else to start showing up, so go get ready." She said as she lovingly patted my shoulder. I hummed and left to go ready in the makeup room. I made a beeline for the clothesline and pulled out my outfit. I grinned in excitement as I began to strip.

After I was "suited" up, the next thing to do was apply makeup. I hardly need any because I have a wonderful complexion, but I do put on some concealer for some blemishes, do my brows, eyes, and put lip gloss on. When I'm ready to go on, Catherine came in to see if I was ready. I turned around to look at her. "You look sexy, as usual," She said and I smiled softly. "Thanks." I stood up and walked to stand in front of her. "Let's get going, hot stuff." She teased and I chuckled as I followed her out into the den. The place was bathed in red, as usual. Patrons were seated in their seats, drinking to their heart's content. Alistair's voice huskily spoke throughout the room through a speaker. 

"Hey everyone, and welcome to Red Horizons! Don't forget, tonight is guys night, so drinks for the men are all half price. And now, our next dancer is ready to come out for you! Someone better call a priest, cause it's gettin' sinful in here with this demon, Incubus!" I heard cheers and whistles from the crowd. "It's showtime Jiàn, give 'em a good show," Catherine said as she gave me a wink before she walked away. A promiscuous smile graced my features as I stepped out from behind the curtain and approached the pole in the middle of the room. The crowd erupted with cheers and whistles when I grabbed the pole, swinging myself skillfully around on it.

I moved with grace on the stage, gripping the pole as I spun myself around it. After a few minutes, I started unbuttoning my billowy, white shirt with my back to the pole. I slipped my shirt off as I moved down the pole to my knees before jumped back up and using my shirt now to swing around on the pole before tossing it aside. More whistling erupted from the crowd, and a handful of bills landed on the stage. I continued to tease the crowd, making sure to really show off my figure. "Let's hear it for Incubus! He'll be back later tonight to put on another show for you guys, so stick around! For now, sit back, grab a cool drink and relax. We'll have another show for you guys starting in just a bit!"

With another spin on the pole, I crouched down to father the bills on the stage. With my back to everyone. Several hands reached out to cop a feel of my butt, and when I wagged it around, those same hands slipped more bills under my strap. After collecting all my money, I disappeared into the back to put it away and touch up my makeup and to drink some water. It's my break now, but I wanted to check in with Louis at the bar. The rest of the night was filled with taking drink orders, dancing, and doing a couple of private shows. Soon it was 1am, ending my shift. After a long night of work, I was excited to be going home.

I changed into my day clothes and closed my locker, not forgetting to put on my combination lock. I got outside into the back alley that leads to the employee parking lot. I sigh, staring up at the sky and seeing that the moon is full. "Hello, excuse me?" A rumbling voice shakes me from my poetic thoughts. I jump, staring straight ahead at a broad figure. I reach into my pocket for my keys, which are adorned with pepper spray and a little keychain that looks like a cat, but can be used for stabbing. "Sorry. I, uh-" he holds his hand up defensively. His eyes looked almost empty, as if only filled with regret. His face is contorted into some form of distress, lips quivering as his eyes dart to and fro.

He puts a hand over each of his pockets, face still looking in fear, until his right hands falls over his breast pocket. He breathes a sigh of relief and looks at me. He starts talking, but not in a language I understand. But eventually he finds a thread I can follow. "I was a fool. I had settled down and yet I squandered my one chance at a proper life. Felt the road would always take me in." My brows knitted together, still being suspicious of this man. He took a hesitant breath as he released his clenched fist. "I ended up throwing away the one place I could call a home. It's been rotting for who knows how long and now I'm old. Always wondered if someone would ever take over and treat it right. Now, you do remind me of myself, but I wasn't a good man. Hopefully you don't have the mean streak I had."

He waits for me to confirm or deny if my character matched his own when he was my age. "Well... I'm far from perfect, but I do try my best," I reply casually. "Is that so? I suppose that's as good as it gets. At least nowadays you can try." He stops suddenly but continues nonetheless. "Back in my day my father treated me like dirt and no one batted an eye. I saw that happen a lot, too — I wasn't the only one. It made beasts out of my siblings and I, having a father like that. But don't you think i"m blaming him. You can only point the finger at your dad for so long, eh? At least eventually I found a way to make a living." The man rambles in the same language from before.

I've realized that it's Italian and perhaps I couldn't recognize it in the beginning was because of his drunken state slaughtered it. Sometimes he'll stop and stare at me, as if expecting a response. A nod or a grunt is enough to get him going again. His voice becomes graver and deeper as the night goes on. It is soothing, in a way, even if at times he'll again allude to having a rough, sorrowful past. Eventually, he stops and his gaze seems to shine with lucidity once more. "I must say I am terribly sorry. I'm afraid I never asked for your name." I immediately tell him that it's Jiàn. I don't mind telling him my actual name, since he's so out of it right now. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Jiàn."

I try to recall if I've met him before, but nothing comes up. Maybe his thoughts are too muddled perhaps due to alcohol that he thinks we've met before. The man's eyes become glazed again and his hand starts shaking. "You seem like an open minded man. Things have changed so much. I think it's the technology, spirits, and the arcane don't mix well with it. Or maybe... it's something in the eyes. The unknown is not as frightful either, so much mystery has been lost. and so the bridge with the fantastical broke down." The old man freezes for a moment, then looks back to me. "Oh, I was rambling again, was I? I'm sorry." I shake my head, offering a kind smile.

"Don't worry about it, that's interesting to hear... The world is a more mysterious place than we like to think. Perhaps fantastical things aren't as common, but they manage to slip by the cracks every once in a while. Or perhaps the supernatural is still out there, speaking in whispers instead of speaking plainly," I share my perspective. "Whispers... You are quite a sensitive young man. There's humility in sensing how much there is out there, yet to be learned. Perhaps... Yes, you seem to have turned out nicely. Special. Hum... perhaps you can do it. Here, I'd like you to have this. I'm sure you'll take better care of it than I did." The man takes an old piece of paper form his breast pocket and extends it to me.

"The deed for the place I told you about. The one I squandered. I'm old, tired. I would like you specifically to have it. I don't quite feel like I have any more time to waste." I stare at the folded piece of paper and he waits a moment before continuing. "Just take it. It's yours. A grandiose place, a palace. Time's taken a toll, but you will love it. Just, please, take care of it, be good. Give him a purpose." I raise an eyebrow at him. Did this old man try to give me a palace just like that? Now who would do that? His wandering gaze betrays his drunken state. At times he seems outright confused, as if he didn't know how he got here in the first place.

I can't take it. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of someone like him. And that's assuming that piece of paper is a deed. It might just be a used napkin with a nice seal. The old man's gaze wanders around. With his hand still extended he squints his eyes at me, then looks down to the paper. He struggles to put his thoughts together... but for a brief moment his expression grows firm and lucid. "You must think I'm crazy. But please understand, this is my last chance to do it right. Just... take the deed." I give in to the old man's pleas. I'm just accepting a piece of paper, after all. It's probably nothing, and if it indeed is something important I can try returning it.

The old piece of parchment looks unimaginably ancient — older than you, that's for sure. But the wax on it seems reasonably new, perhaps even fresh. I break open the seal and examine the paper's contents. It's gibberish, written in an alphabet I've ever seen before. Well, it would seem like this was all for nothing. I stick the paper in my jacket pocket. The corners of his mouth wrinkle, and he shakes ever so slightly. But his joy is short-lived. His gaze wanders once again. When his focus returns to you be furrows his brow, taking in each of my features one at a time. The man mumbles something to himself, takes a sip of his coffee, and smiles. "You are a very kind young man, Jiàn."

He does remember your name, at least. "I'm so sorry... I ran away and after a while, I never looked back at what I ran from. Please, forgive me..." I part my lips in confusion. "What do I have to forgive you for? Who are you?" I see the man hesitate and break into a nervous sweat. He then suddenly stops and seems to once again lose all sense. I say my farewell to the old man and thank him for the wonderful company. He subtly bows to me. "No, Jiàn. It is I who ought to be grateful. It was a pleasure meeting you." I leave him and start taking drink orders. The rest of the evening, all I could think about was that weird interaction I had with that old man. "Why talk to me like that? We're strangers... Ugh, I'm too tired for this." 

I now sat in my apartment on my bed. I check the deed again. I couldn't read it at first — maybe I was too tired. But now the once-gibberish characters make some sense to my brain. It's like reading a language that had branched off from my native tongue a few centuries prior. It is just alien enough to be unrecognizable at first. However, when I squint hard enough I find that the characters remind me of my alphabet. And then the words' meaning pops up in my mind. It's unsettling, in a way. It feels as if my brain is shifting from inside out the more I look into it. But try as I might, it's hard to even acknowledge this discomfort — it melts away at the blink of an eye. 

Maybe the old man really had give me something of value after all, not a worthless scrap of paper. I sigh as I settle in my bed, having already stripped myself of my day clothes. It was around noon and while most people would be working or doing another number of things, all I was going to do was sleep. I release a relaxed sigh, happy to just be home and especially, in a bed. However, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and was going from one side of my bed to the other. I huffed as I flopped onto my back and stared at my ceiling. In the corner of my eye, I could see the deed. I felt as if the old parchment was making fun of me.

I muttered a string of curse words as I sat up and harshly grabbed the paper. I narrowed my eyes at it. But as I continued to stare intensely at it, I realized that the words were starting to make sense. It hurt my eyes and I could feel a headache coming on, but I persevered. But I felt as if the paper was sucking in and now I didn't even have the choice to look away. It felt like my surroundings were starting to shift and warp, but I couldn't look to be sure. Suddenly, and to my amazement, the old writing began to glow, illuminating my face. "What the..." I breathed as I ultimately became lost in the scribbles. The last thing that I remember was that I felt extremely dizzy and sleepy... then darkness.

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When I wake up, I slowly realize that I'm not being greeted by my bedroom ceiling. Instead, I only see the large leaves of tropical trees. I abruptly sit up and vigorously look around. I'm in a pocket of trees, I think. "What... What the hell is happening?" I breathe as I begin to panic. I stagger as I get up on my feet and continue to look around. It's then that I spot a giant structure to my right and I realize that it's a palace. Breathing hard I look to the infinite horizon behind me. I look back to the palace as I think about all those details. Something catches my eye, however; a porch overlooking the valley beneath the palace. The valley stretches to the cloudless horizon, framed to the right and left by more cliffs.

Looking down to the bottom I can just make out the outline of a flourishing riverbed stretching out. I notice there's a cave opening in the cliff wall, right below the palace. Its exit lined with statues, the details of which I can't make out at this distance. My thoughts are halted as a more pressing matter sneaks up on me: the heat. Regardless of the weirdness around me, there's no escaping the sweltering sun. I walk to the entrance. The doors are unlocked. It's hard to tell for how long this place has been abandoned. The building itself surely is old, the exterior is severely decayed. It wouldn't be surprising if the interior is teeming with wild animals, rotten walls, and fallen pieces of ceiling.

But instead it's just... dusty. Humid and stagnant too — the walls are water damaged and there's a lot of mold. However it's not as bad as one would think. I call out in the hopes someone, anyone, might be there. Maybe some squatters? But just like outside, there's no signs of human life at all in the palace. Up ahead is a tall spiral staircase going both up and down. No matter how many twists and turns I took, the hallway never wrapped back into itself. Backtracking all the way back to the parlor was the only option. The spiral staircase seemed much more inviting than wandering the seemingly endless hallways. The marble handrails were lined with burnt-out lamps.

It was impossible to see much in the darkness down below. The second floor was mostly bedrooms. But here, the outer hallways were lined with sprawling windows showing a courtyard behind the palace, close to the cliff's edge. I took the hallway leading further towards the palace's back, and a single turn to the right brought me to a vast room. Right beside its entrance was a bar and to the left was a medium sized table and two couches. Further left there was a tall window of stained glass, like the ones in a cathedral. And through a glass door beside this window was a garden. Behind the counter, the bottles of fine spirits are still half-filled. They glimmer in exquisite browns, reds, and blues.

I close my eyes, and imagine how this place was decades ago. The whistling wind shifts. It turns into the hum of human life, footsteps and breathing. Chairs being dragged, cutlery and plates clinking. Laughter, whispers, people talking to each other from one side of the room to the other. People dressed so nicely. A barman in front of me, serving the finest drinks I can imagine. He knows my name and how I like it. And eagerly listening to all my rants and complaints. I open my eyes. I'm back in the abandoned palace, majestic and destroyed. One can understand why the old man wished to pass it on to someone who would care for it. It's then that I remember the deed.

I pat all over my body until I feel something in my jacket's breast pocket. I tap my the pocket once more, making sure the crumpled parchment is still there. Even the yellowed, stained paper exudes warmth now. I stand up and walk out. As I do so, I notice a large purple stain on the floor behind the counter, and the glass shards of what used to be a wine bottle. I proceed further into the palace. There's a lot to see still. All the way down the hallway a set of sliding glass doors beckon me. But from afar the difference is clear. The wallpaper is ripped, and one of the doors is cracked. I step on something hard. A revolver bullet. I push the door to the side and am greeted by an even more chaotic sight. It's the palace's lounge.

The tables was overturned, and all the chairs and plates lay broken on the floor. There's a darkened stain in the middle of the room which trails into the kitchen. It leads me past the pantry and to the massive iron door of a cold room, which is locked from the outside and boarded up. All around the kitchen things are strewn about. There's even a pan on the stove with what must be fossilized food, and the sink is filled with dirty dishes. On a nearby counter is a revolver covered in thick dust, and I think back to the bullet in the hallway and the stain on the restaurant floor. The old man wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't a good person. I breathe in, preparing myself for a terrible sight.

The rusted door fights against my will, but stands no chance. Darkness pours out. The stench strikes first. It's the stagnant smell of blood and rot. It clings to my nose and mouth like a bitter oil. Before my eyes can adjust to the darkness a second wave of stench hits. It's like a farm, too — the scent of dusty fury, maybe even hay, but cooped up in a hot, humid room for decades. And, last but not least, stale shit and piss. This place has it all, the stench of a thousand different deaths. The light pouring into the cold room shines on the floor in front of the doorway. Empty cans of soup and glasses of jam are strewn about over the trail of old blood. Whoever was locked in here didn't die quickly.

The cold room extends into absolute darkness, a hallway in and of itself. I proceed, scraping my shoes on the floor so I don't trip over the refuse. The entire floor is covered with discarded glasses and cans. Whatever scraps were left in them has long rotted, dried and crumbled into dust. Both my footsteps and breathing echo. The overbearing humidity drapes across my back, and my breathing becomes agitated. The stench is stronger. My sight finally adapts to the dark. At what must be the cold room's far wall, I notice something. Whatever is it, it's slouched on the floor, motionless. As if it died where it stood after who knows how long locked here. My eyesight is used to the dark now.

The distant pillar of light bleeding from the doorway is enough to avoid tripping on the discarded glass. I crouch in front of the thing. It seems to have the head of a deer, but it's been mixed with other animals that I can quite place. It's covered in fur, aside from the patches of sickly, exposed skin. Instead of paws or hooves, it has taloned toes, along with a sickle claw. Half of its skull is exposed. The bone still has a smattering of blood dust near the remaining flesh. Its left eye socket is empty and I can't help but involuntarily gulp. And while it seems to have long hair that's in a lazy braid, it can't hide how deathly thin this stag was. It died from starvation, not from whatever destroyed its face.

That's enough. I stand up and turn back to leave. As I do so, my rustling clothes and echoing footsteps break the curtain of silence. That's when I heart it. Breathing as faint as a moth's wings flapping. I look back to the corpse. I realize that it's looking at me. Its chest expands and contracts. I take a step forward and it follows my movements. I stand my ground. The thing's eye remain locked on me, squinting slightly when a string of fresh air blows into the cold room. The exit is just five seconds away if I turn back and sprint. If push comes to shove, the gun is still outside. The thing remains on the floor, barely moving. The blinking of its eye is drawn-out and deliberate.

Its head droops down, as if it can barely hold itself awake. Its lips, or whatever remains of them, part. Its breathing becomes easier to hear. "I beg your forgiveness. I'm in such a sorry state." What an understatement. "What are you?" I ask as I continue to study the peculiar creature. I quickly realize that he's completely naked, not that that bothers me at all. "I am the Palace's Keeper and Prisoner of its walls." His voice is raspy, nearly a string of grunts booming through the room in contrast with his disheveled body. "And you're the Master now, which makes me your servant, bound to your will. I cannot disobey your orders." The thing cradles his head between his arms, his voice comes out muffled.

"If you wish to know what thing am I, I am a hybrid monster. About my sorry state, the previous Master did this to me. As your servant, I shall answer the Master's questions." He remains with his face hidden for awhile longer, he does look up, he stares at the exit and not at me. He squints his eye and raises a deathly thin forearm over it. He scuttles an inch to the side, so my shadow covers him. "You are a prisoner, but you are also the Palace's Keeper?" His eye narrows and ear droops. "Yes. I was sentenced by the High Council to spend eternity here. I am an abomination and failed the one task that was given to me. The High Council made this land to house me in my damnation."

I take a step forward, intrigued by this creature. "The Master is meant to be my torturer, and to the end is given control over the land. But there was a past Master, and with at his will I became the Keeper." He closes his eye for a moment, lost in a daydream. "Why were you locked here?" I ask before I looked around the disgusting room once more. What could possess somebody to lock someone up in here? "That is what the last Master saw fit. He shot me then commanded that I stay here, in this room. But as you can see, I am undying. It only hurt, I cannot be killed. He locked the door as well, but his command was enough. I cannot disobey, as I had no way out. I am a prisoner, after all." 

I shifted on my feet, feeling sorry for the broken creature in front of me. "Why did the previous Master do this to you?" The stag recoils, shrinking further into a fetal position. "Being a monster is reason enough for damnation, Master. He chose to return the Prison to its original purpose, I presume." His bony jaw opens and closes, chewing on nothing. "It hardly matters, regardless. I cannot die." His open wounds stand out as he speaks. "How can I help with your injuries?" He exhales sharply at my words. His face sinks again between his legs. "Master need not worry about me. I cannot die, and it stopped hurting a long time ago. A skull feels no pain." I pull the Palace's deed from my breast pocket.

"So it's this that makes me the new Master?" I ask as I hold up the parchment. "Correct. The ownership of Havena was transferred to you. I always know who the current Master is and his name." I've asked all my questions but another comes to mind now. "What's your name?" He hesitates before answering. His burning eye shifts ever so slightly. "The Master holds the right to pick my name. But if it is your wish to know, the one I was given at birth is Nyx." For a split second his remaining eye reflects a strand of light from outside. He realizes then how tired, thirsty, and hungry he is. But it doesn't matter. After all, he cannot die. As a servant his duty takes precedence.

The stag readjusts to a kneeling position. The cracking of his kneecaps bounces off the cold room's walls. He bows his head to me. "The bond between jailer and prisoner is born from the deed, while that between Master and Servant is willfully chosen. Will Master hear my oath of servitude?" I raise an eyebrow at the skeletal stag's gesture. I cannot muster a response. In my silence, the stag glances up to me. He starts shaking, barely able to hold his hands together. His lips tremble in anticipation. "Master, this land was designed to torture me." The stag's voice cracks. For the first time I notice a tail thrashing behind him. 

"The oath of servitude is what keeps it at bay. Please, Master, allow me to recite it and take me into your service." I can only nod in response. With my authorization he is able to proceed, after a minute to bring himself together again. "Prisoner Nyx pledges loyalty and servitude to the Prison's Master. The Prisoner is made Keeper of the Palace above the valley, and is bequeathed the power to realize the Master's will. The Master in turn binds Havena, forbidding it's malicious entities from leaving said valley. The realm was engineered to torture the Prisoner, and indeed its mission shall be accomplished. The Prisoner will carry the burden of servitude, but shall not suffer Havena's wrath within the Palace's territory. The Prisoner, shielded by his Master's will, is made safe as long as his duty is fulfilled."

Nyx dares not look up to me. Once he finishes his oath, his silence is broken only by the drops of sweat dripping from his trembling face. "This is a lot to take in, if I'm being honest. And this oath you were talking about, what does it mean?" I ask as I take in all of his injuries, counting them one by one. "It's what protects me, my lord. There are creatures in the valley, they cannot harm me inside the Palace as long as I am under the Master's service. The previous oath remained for as long as the Palace remained without a Master. With your arrival I am made vulnerable again." He pauses, his breathing becoming even more shaky. "Please, allow me into your service..." I bite my lips slightly, feeling a weight settle on me.

"Very well. Assuming you are speaking the truth... yes, I accept you as my servant." My words bounce off the walls and slither their way out of the cold room. The light dripping from the door behind me falters. My shadow, draped over the deer minotaur, flickers and shifts slightly. The world itself shudders under my words and responds by shifting into a new shape around me. Nyx still looks down, his frame now slouched further forwards and no longer shaking. "My gratefulness knows no bounds. I shall not disappoint. I may be in a sorry state now, but I'll be quick to recuperate. If Master so allows, I will take my leave. I need only take a trip to the infirmary to patch myself up."

He raises his head ever so slightly, glancing at the doorway. "...I am still unable to leave the room, until you command me otherwise." Undying as he may be, the stag's body is atrophied. He won't go far on his own. I kneel down to his level. Despite the darkness, I can make out his scapulae and sagging skin. "Can you walk on your own?" Nyx averts his eye by looking down to his legs. "Master ought not worry about me. I can make it to the infirmary on my own. I've been through worse." He won't look up to me. There's just a hint of pride in his voice. "Very well. You have my permission to leave the room." Without uttering a word the stag bows to me, then puts his hands on the ground to try and rise up.

He struggles, first in snapping his knees from this new position and then in finding his balance. He succeeds after holding on to one of the shelves. One step at a time he ambles towards the door, taking breaks to rest against a wall and adjust his eyesight to the light. It takes a long time, but he leaves the cold room and makes his way to the infirmary. I follow him closely, making sure he doesn't trip and get hurt. His back is covered in bed sores. Against all odds, Nyx can indeed make it on his own. The infirmary has layers upon layers of dust and rust. Squinting his eye, Nyx walks up to the drawers. He examines each on, silent, until one of them reveals shards of green glass and a purple, dried out stain.

The stag slouches forward and sighs. He scrapes a finger on the drawer, trying to gather some of the purple dust, but it's no use. He continues looking around and I do the same. All I find are dusty bandages, long rotted medications. I put it back when I notice Nyx's intense gaze on me. "What are we looking for exactly?" He takes a hesitant breath before cautiously answering my question. "The only thing that can heal me is... the Master's blood." My posture straightened at this and I repeated his words. The stag nods meekly, "The Master's blood heals me." This is a turn of events, which is a complete understatement if you ask me. "Uh, how much blood do you need?"

I'm certainly not out here giving out a whole blood donations worth of blood. "The severity of my wounds determines the amount needed. I estimate that it'd only take.... about a tablespoon. But it is your decision of how much to give me." I can't help but sigh in relief, saying that that's something I can sacrifice. "Past masters chose to make a small cut along the fleshy part of your thumb." I nod and look around for something sharp, preferably a clean scalpel. I soon found one and made sure it was clean before positioning it against the soft flesh at the base of my thumb. I suck in a deep breath and release it simultaneously when I cut. In the corner of my eye, I see Nyx flinch. 

A red line that's about a centimeter long begins to show. "Is that alright?" I ask as I look up at Nyx. "Yes... that's perfect." He looks longingly at my hand, as if he's been waiting for this this whole time. I hold out my hand to him and he licks his dry lips but I can still tell he doesn't trust me. He nears towards my hand similar to a wild animal. I wait patiently and soon, I feel him begin to lick up my blood. He breathes in deeply through his nose before he begins to hungrily suck on my hand. He grabs my hand and pulls it towards him, seemingly impatient at the pace he has been going. It's only been a few minutes, but I can already notice some of his wounds healing. The stag notices me watching.

He pulls back and his lips, or what remains of them, curl into a proud half-smile. "Yes. I can heal quite quickly, provided I have master's blood for it." With one hand, Nyx squeezes out more blood onto his fingers and reaches a hand to his back. His fingers seem to barely graze one of the bed sores. "Let me help you with that. You can't see it." He droops his ear in defeat, knowing full well I'm right. However, he turns his back to me with a speed betraying his eagerness. His tail flicks to and fro behind him. I take the scalpel into my hand once more and deepen the cut. I dab a piece of old gauze on the flowing blood and get to work. The stag's wounds have a black tinge to them.

A dark oil seems to have accumulated on them, oozing down his back in clearly defined rivers. He flinches when the fabric touches his damaged skin, but pushes back against me at the same time. His wounds close quickly — in an almost unsettling speed. ten minutes later my blood has clotted, but it was enough to rid Nyx of his most egregious bed sores. He lays a hand on his skull. "I'll need a lot more blood for this." I ask if I need to cut my other hand. Nyx has a shy curve on his lips when he looks up to me from the bed. His tail flicks to the left, to the right. He swings his taloned feet over the floor. When he speaks his voice is grave, however, rumbles with sobriety.

"You've been too kind already, Master. It would be terribly unfitting of a Keeper to impose a task upon his Master, let alone as many as you've aided me with so far." His one remaining eye is half-closed. "Please, worry not about me." He speaks then with a twinge of relief. "Unless Master has a task for me, I shall take some rest here and then wash myself. I am most unfitting now, for a Keeper of the Palace. Master need not worry." I frown at that. "Shouldn't you have some food first? What if you pass out in the bathroom?" I ask as I subconsciously count every one of his ribs.

"That shall not be an issue. I can obtain sustenance now that you've accepted me into your service. The Master commands Havena, and through the oath you have bequeathed me some of your power. I shall not go hungry again. There is much I can gladly teach you about the land, Master. It shall tend to  your needs, if you know how to lead it. Observe." For half a second it's as if the entire world blinks out around me, and my mind goes blank alongside it. Now Nyx had in his hands an overflowing bunch of grapes. "Do you like grapes? I hope these are to your liking." I hesitate before accepting food from him. Shouldn't he the one eating first?

"The Master eats first, only then may the Keeper feed. Regardless, Master has been kind to me, and I would be happy to share with thee." The stag seems eager to have me taste the grapes. They are impossibly sweet but I only take a few so he may start eating. He flicks his ears and tail at my enjoyments, then starts wolfing down the grapes. He barely looks up to me now. As soon as he's run out of grapes a new bunch appears in his hands, then a cup of water and more fruits still. When he does finally look up to me, he slows down and tried to clean his muzzle of all the juicy bits. His eyes betrays a tinge of self-consciousness.

"I am sorry. I am more a beast than I am man. Sometimes it gets the better of me. I should not be so brutish around Master. Although, in my defense, my table manners are excellent when I have the benefit of not being starved." He cracks a half smile. Even naked, with a disfigured muzzle covered with grape juice, Nyx looks up to me with a noble-like posture: his back is straight and his shoulders shift slightly to a broader stance. There's a tinge of pride in his barely noticeable smile — the small joy of having kept his dignity even in impossibly harsh circumstances. Perhaps this would be a good moment to let the stag have some privacy. But before I speak, I notice the change in his eyes as he stares at me.

He sucks in a quiet gasp as his eye almost pops out of his head. I'm startled by this and quickly ask what's wrong. "You... You have her eyes..." A bitter smile falls on my lips. "Her eyes, huh? Guess I still have girly eyes." Now it was Nyx's turn to be confused. I notice this and say, "Ah, I was born a girl but realized that I'm actually a guy. I started hormone treatment and had surgery to remove my breasts. Now I'm legally Jiàn Talisko." I can see so many questions swirling in his eyes. He opens his mouth but closes it immediately. "I'll let you have your rest. I'll come back to check up on you later." Nyx bows to me — dignified, despite the juices running down his mouth and chest.

"I shall be presentable after washing up, Master. Worry not about me." I smile and give him a nod. "Very well. If you do need help just... Yell, alright? I don't want you getting hurt. Even if you can't die, as you say." Nyx takes a good look at me. His dark eye glimmers softly under the infirmary's light. There's almost a wetness to them. He breaths so slowly as he gazes at me, tail flickering to and fro. He takes in every feature of my face, one at a time. "Thank you for releasing me, Master." His eye betrays his drowsiness. He bows to me and, in doing so, nearly falls asleep. I tell him to go get his rest. "I will." I let him have his privacy. Once Jiàn's gone, Nyx breathes in a shaky breath.

"It can't be... yet he has the same eyes as her and the same last name. It has to be her... but now she's a he. Maybe that would be a problem for others, but he's still has to be the same person I've grown to admire. He has to be..." Nyx thought before he succumbed to sleep. I'm back in the ruined hallway. It stretches into the eating hall and further into the Palace. Up ahead something catches my eye: a leather-bound volume. A cursory look reveals most of its pages have been torn out, but the covers back side contains something written in the same script from the deed. The glyphs shift and twist under my gaze, marching into place the harder I stare.

After a few minutes however it turns uncomfortable, as if my mind was being drilled by the paper. I take a seat at the bar, just a foot away from the green glass shards scattered about over the purple stain. I lose myself in deciphering this script. 

Nyx's Sentence

Hereby the High Council of Mer'elleth sentence the Prisoner Nyx to eternal damnation for his meekness and cowardice in disobeying his task. With this sentence his prison is created, the Land known as Havena, born out of the High Council's will. Havena shall serve as a kingdom to lost souls. Among the mortals of Earth, a Jailer will be picked to command and rewrite the realm. The Jailer and the Havena's mission is to secure the Prisoner's eternal torture. The Jailer shall enjoy power and freedom to rewrite Havena as to better enact his vision. Nyx of Khaen with every drop of his blasphemous blood is hereby sentenced to Havena. 

By this decree the High Council's will is done.

I'm pulled from my trance by the bang of a door closing down the hallway. The light around me has shifted. I look back to the garden and the sun is already setting. Time passed in a flash, and now the barely registered steps on marble floor reaches my ears. The stag enters the lounge, sees me, and bows. "Hello, Nyx. Did you sleep well?" I greet him. "I did, Master. I must thank you for allowing me rest." I smile and slid off my chair. "That's good to hear. I take it you have no issue with your bath?" I ask warmly, happy to not smell the decades of filth on his fur. "I did not." Nyx stand up and looks at me directly.

"I should ask for your forgiveness. I left you waiting without providing a tour of the Palace. That was awfully unfitting of my position as the Palace's Keeper. I am at your disposal now, however. There are a few questions eating away at me, if you don't mind. But we can leave them for later if you aren't feeling well," I say. "I am well enough to fulfill my duty. What is it Master wishes to know?" I give into his stubbornness, knowing that I've basically been ignoring his role. "Well, to start off... I'll admit I'm a little worried about you. How are you feeling? Was the shower enjoyable?" The stag shifts his gaze, trying to read my expression and tone. Looking for a tinge of irony, or perhaps malice.

"I — I am well. It was quite peculiar showering after all those years. I had forgotten what water felt like. It is fortunate that my — my wounds were closed. It could have been a painful affair otherwise. For quite a while I just stood there, under the water. Thinking and feeling. All of that is to say... Yes, I am doing well. It is kind of you to ask. Is that all you wished to know?" After being reassured that he's alright, I move onto my most wanted answered question. "How did I get here? I kinda just woke up nearby." Nyx averts his eyes before forcing himself to meet my gaze once more. "Well, the powers in the Deed had brought you to this plain of existence."

I tilt my head, silently asking him to elaborate. "You are still on Earth, just in a different dimension. This dimension was created by the High Council, and they are the ones who have granted you the power to bend the laws of this reality." I say that I understand, but this leads me to another question. "This place... it isn't normal. In other words... what kind of place is this?" The stag's gaze goes to the floor. His feet scrape against it. "This realm was created to imprison me, the jailer's mission is to keep watch. And for that purpose the High Council saw it fit that matter could be spontaneously created... So the jailer's job would not be interrupted by 'petty things' such as material limitations,"

He pauses to look up at me and I nod for him to continue. "It is, as well, the Master's compensation. Being able to create whatever your heart desires of thin air... that is quite a reward, wouldn't you say?" I chuckle and agree with him. "That's right. This is no small power, with some creativity anyone could make a fortune off this place." I say, knowing that I'm barely scraping the surface of attaining such wealth, not that that was a goal for me. I'm content with what I have right now, however; no one wants to say no to owning a few nice things.. "Well, there are a few limitations... The realm refuses to make gold and silver in large quantities. As keeper it is my duty to instruct you on this matter."

"I'd appreciate that a lot, but we can leave that for later if it's complicated," I say, to which he nods in understanding. "Does Master have more questions?" He asks. I quickly nod and ask, "Who is the High Council? You've mentioned them before and they're the ones who did all of this." Nyx nods and swallows thickly before answering, "The High Council can be described as Gods. They are a group of beings that have been here since the creation of the universe. All races have come from them and were allowed to choose where to live. Humans chose Earth." I absorb what he's telling me. "So there are others like you?" Nyx's shoulders sag, his eyes filled to the brim with loneliness.

"...No. I am the only one of my kind. I shouldn't even exist; an abomination is what I am." I frown at that and get up from my seat. "Why do you say that about yourself?" Nyx sighs, as if it's supposed to be obvious. "I am the product of a Council member and a lowly creature. My existence is a sick joke, Master..." I release a sigh, not knowing how to comfort him. "Why should it matter that you were an accident? You're still here. I myself wasn't planned to be born. But I guess our situations are polar opposites, so I shouldn't try to compare. I just don't like seeing you hurt like this..." Nyx stares at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my response. 

"Thanks for giving me some insight. Don't go overexerting yourself, I suppose this isn't a priority right now. Getting you patched up is more important. " "I think that's all I had in mind for now. This is a lot to take in. That gods and you exist, for starters, and that this place can just create matter out of thin air. Thanks for telling me all that. I'll just need some time to process it all," I say with a soft smile, unknowingly making the stag's heart beat faster. "It is a pleasure to serve. Could I provide Master with a drink? Would that please you?" He looks behind me, to the wall covered by dozens of bottles of liquor. "Well, I don't think those are safe. I checked a few of them, they weren't smelling right."

The corner of my lips upturned in humor. "That will not be an issue. I can muster more for Master," He insists. "Very well, go on." The stag walks behind the counter. The world blinks around me, and when I look again he holds a bottle of whisky. He walks with a spring in his step, but stops once he sees the purple stain on the floor. Whatever smidgeon of chirpiness was on his face is gone. He lowers himself to the floor and runs a hand over the dried-out wine. He tired scraping the dust off the ground, then rubbing his hand on it, to no avail. "What's on your mind?" I softly ask. The stag speaks without looking up to me. 

"He went all the way, the previous Master. Locking me away wasn't enough, he had to go as far as breaking everything." He pauses as he frowns, as if scolding himself. The stag rises and supports himself on the counter. He summons a rag and goes through the motions of dusting. "No matter. Now, what is Master's want? I should tell you upfront, the Palace's liquor is quite impressive." Nyx may be up and walking, but he's still far from being well. He can use the help. The spiral staircase remains as welcoming as before. "Here. This floor is dedicated to the Master and those he allows in. The Palace bends to the Master's will. My power is similar to yours, albeit much weaker. In due time, the Palace shall conform from the ground up to your vision."

We reach my room and Nyx opens the doors for me. The living room ahead of me seems to have resisted the damage of time better than the rest of the Palace. It is dusty, and some chunks of the wall show the beginnings of mold, but that is nothing compared to the devastation I saw in the kitchen. Nyx says nothing at first. His gaze seems to be lost in the distance as he walks around inspecting the room. There are lines of wooden carvings on shelves. During the stag's silence, I take the chance to explore it myself. The living room is a sprawling lounge made to receive guests, both in great number and for an intimate get-togethers.

Under the sunset's light the wooden floor colors the room with a soft, warm hue. There's a master bedroom with a vast closet still filled with clothes. It's a wardrobe pulled straight from a cosplay convention, robes and more robes organized with a tireless devotion. There's also a large office, the kind you'd expect from an important executive. Sitting on the desk is a selection of finely-decorated fountain pens and a stash of documents, for the most part written in delicate calligraphy. Most of the documents are signed by a "Master Bastien", Although a handful bear an illegible scribble for a signature. There's a finely furnished bathroom off in a tight hallway to the side of the living room.

At the end of the corridor, after a sharp turn, there's a cramped, windowless chamber. It has a handful of remnants of the living room's warmth, albeit muted. The wood's color is faded, the ceiling is a meter lower, there is a little to no furniture. There is, however, an austere bed that looks larger than your typical single. Beside it is a tiny chest of drawers, with a handful of dusty poetry books piled on top alongside more wooden carvings. This room affords privacy, but little else. Nyx is going over it when I arrive. He cradles every wooden carving in the room, examining them one-by-one. Many of the carvings depict great deer. He opens one of the books, and a page marker falls from it.

He looks down at it but doesn't bother picking it up. The stag opens a small closet off to the side, and takes out what seems to be a long piece of fabric. He smells it, or perhaps hugs it to his chest. His bony snout leaves a stain of blood dust on it. He sighs and shudders. The stag looks back to me, acknowledging my presence for the first time since arriving here. "I am frightfully sorry, I was lost in thought. This floor is the Master's quarters. It contains your bedroom, office, living room and any other installations you wish to add. This room we are in, this... was my bedroom. I serve the Palace, but above all else I serve the Master." He lays the fabric gently down on his bed.

"It is often considered convenient to have me around, as I can cook and help the Master however he sees fit. There were Masters who had children, for instance. I would assist in tending to them, providing entertainment and play while the Master rested. Master Bastien was a man of culture. He enjoyed having me play my lyre for him at night." The stag's gaze wander away again, his hands starting to caress a wooden carving. It's at this point that I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, to which he tells me where it is. While in there, I have to take a breather. Everything that's been happening shouldn't be happening at all. I sigh and finish up my business, later washing my hands out.

When I walk out, the setting sun's orange tones color the entire apartment. It turns the suspends dust in the air into thousands of sparkling diamonds. The previous Master's carvings stare at me, wide-eyed and beckoning me further into the Quarters. The smell of old dust seems so small compared to how sweetly the room welcomes me. If a place could ever be alive, and if it could ever be naked, this is it. The Palace itself embraces me, its intimacy laid bare. Nothing moves and Nyx is nowhere to be seen. Silence reigns, save for a faint hum of life. I leave the wine bottle on the living room table. I delve deeper into my quarters, and the hum grows louder and sharper.

It's like breathing, ragged and pained. The dust visible under the sunlight shudders. The sound is coming from the office. Nyx is standing over the desk, his back to me, sobbing. My footsteps are not enough to make him aware of my presence. The stag sobs again and again, each one coming from deeper inside of him. They begin meek, hardly more than a snort. But he lays his hands on the desk and curls forward. His vertebrae jut sharply from his deathly thin skin, made more obvious by how he hunches over. He spits out a sob from the depths of his lungs. The dam bursts, he breaks into wave after wave of grunts and half-muffled screams.

He presses his face against the desk and claws at it, leaving his marks in the pristine wood until he falls to the ground, curled up like a child. He sees me then with his tear-drenched eye and ignores my presence. Master or not, I am too small. He curls further into himself, mouth covered by his hands as he lets out another muffled yell. The stag's voice breaks midway through and he goes silent, even if his mouth is still locked in agony. But Nyx looks up to me, aware of my presence, and makes no effort to hide or cower. In fact, he tried to speak, but I can't understand his slurred words, only that his voice has a tone of welcoming. I cross the gap separating the two of us on step at a time.

Nyx's eye does not avert from me. I sit by his side, back to the desk, and only then his gaze drops down to the floor into further sobbing. I drape an arm over his shoulder and pull him to me. The stag doubles down his crying, now muffled by my shirt. His fingers dig into me — his claws digging into my skin and draw a slight amount of blood from his pressure, but I don't mind. I rub the back of his head and let the stag go at his own pace. As the sun sets further, darkening the room, his crying grows quieter and more discreet as well. When all is dark except for the stars shining beyond the window, Nyx's hands relax and he slouches fully onto my chest.

He almost seems to be asleep, but I catch his eye looking up at me. Nyx is pacified, but I give him a few more minutes to make sure. His fingers dig into me one last time right as he sighs. "I beg your forgiveness, Master. I let my emotions control my strength and have punctured your skin with my claws." I shake my head as I caress his head. "Not to steal your line, but I've been through worse, Nyx. I will survive. I'm just happy to be here for you." He breathes in shakily, to which I wrap my arms around him in a hug. I give him a quick squeeze and pat him on the back before I help him up. He says nothing about what just happened, but accepts my hand.

And when I leave the office, he stays close by my side. Back in the living room, I guide Nyx to the sofa. He sits without questioning, but accompanies me with his gaze as I take a seat facing him. Nyx leans back on the sofa, a weak smile painted on his face. "Thank you for being so kind to me, Master." I wave my hand, giving him a kind smile. "Don't mention it, it was nothing." This seems to set the stag on a new train of thought. "Is that so? Master, if it is not impertinent of me, would you answer a few questions?" I give him a big smile, happy that he's finally willing to look past his role. "Sure, I don't see how that could be a problem," I reply as I sit across from him.

"I wish to know about the War. How did it end?" I tilt my head slightly. "War? Which war?" I ask. "The Cold War. The conflict between the Americans and communists. How did it end? Did communism take over the world?" I stop myself from laughing at such an idea, but I know that he had no way of finding out until now. "Yes, the world is doing fine, the Americans won the war. A lot of stuff happened since then." I briefly tell him the world's history after the Cold War, especially the aftermath of the war. "Oh, I'm so relieved to hear that. I've spent all those years locked away thinking about it. Master Bastien talked so many times about America..." His eyes glaze over in recollection.

"The fields of sunflowers, the fragrances, the fields. He found his way to the Palace, a shell-shocked young man fresh off the battlefield. He inherited the deed from the previous Master, and his rule over the Palace was a sight to behold. He was very kind, had a preference for bring in victims of war. It wasn't easy caring for so many amputees and shell-shocked men, but it was worth it. He loved it here, but I suppose he loved America the most. I couldn't dissuade him from returning home, to help in the protests for civil rights. He died in 1962. I felt it right when it happened. Felt the bullet going through my head in the middle of the night. In 1969, the next Master arrived, Master Cassius." 

At the mention of Cassius' name, Nyx's gaze harshened and he became tense. "Cassius wasn't bad at first. He was very eager to please, to be of use to the guests. But there was something in him... A greed, I suppose. To merely be liked wasn't enough, you see. He and Master Bastien differed greatly. Bastien had a vision, to bring comfort to those affected by war. Cassius, on the other hand, didn't want to be liked, but worshipped." I bitter look washes over his features. "He had his eyes on a guest, a woman who held his mind in the palm of her hand. I can only believe it went badly. And so, he... well, you saw what he did to me. The guests are gone, and the Palace has been left to rot... I had glimpsed the beginnings of madness in his eyes. I am no fool. It was clear he was no sane man but I hoped he'd be harmless."

I immediately have the sense that I know said person personally. "I believe I met this Cassius you speak of. He gave me the Palace's deed. Talked a bit about himself, said he squandered his one chance at something good. He's a drunk now. Can barely talk right. He apparently was looking for me but I've never met him before." Thinking back to it, I relay what my past thoughts were. "When I checked the deed it all seemed like gibberish, too. I could only believe he wasn't thinking right and gave me some used napkin. He said he had done bad stuff during his life, but I never imagined it was bad as what I saw here." Nyx's brow is furrowed and his eyes wander.

He twiddles his thumbs while I speak. "He's still alive, then." He closes his eyes, wrinkling his visage in anger. Nyx looks up to the ceiling. His voice is relaxed now, almost soothing, but it carries a spike of sobriety. "Master, if you would once again permit it, may I speak freely? I may overstep my boundaries of being an outsider that has been looking into your life." I give him a curious look but slowly nod. He takes a deep breath before he begins. "If I'm not mistaken, your father left you when you were young, correct?" I narrow my eyes, wondering how he knew that. Even under my stare, Nyx wills himself to continue. "Did you ever learn the name of your father?" I have to hold myself back from scoffing.

"Of course, Mama had told me his name is Cass-" I choke on my words, realization slamming into me like a train. "N-no... no way," I say in shock as my posture dips forward slightly. "Cassius Talisko was my last Master. I remember him talking of his only child, a daughter named Ari..." Nyx gets up and retrieves something from the bookshelf. He looks at it for a moment before he returns to his seat. He slowly hands me the photo and I feel myself having to hold in a sob. It was a picture of me at one of my most memorable dance recitals. I was twelve in the picture. "Cassius had told me a lot about you, Master Jiàn..." I softly run my finger along the picture. "This is why you acted weird before...you had recognized me."

Nyx nods in affirmation. I sit back in my chair with a deep inhalation of air. Nyx silently watches me. "Master, if once again you would accept it, may I ask a question? This one however may be out of place for me as Keeper." I give him permission to tell me. "Havena was created to torture me as punishment for my crime. But over the years, the human Masters chose to impose a different will onto this realm. Each Master had a vision for it. We had a good run, a few good centuries ever since we started. Until, as you saw, Cassius came along. I wish to know your intentions. That is awfully out of place for me, as Prisoner. You are my captor, and I shall obey whatever your will may be." 

Even at his words, he seems to not care anymore. "Nonetheless, I wish to have my impertinent question answered, if it isn't much. I should let you know, before you answer, that I am used to suffering. I've been through a lot worse than what you saw today." He took a shaky breath before continuing, "If your will is to torture me, like Master Cassius did, then you need not pretend. However, you accepted my oath and took me into your service, and now you've treated me with kindness. I would believe, then that you are not like him. Be honest, if you will. My servitude to you remains regardless of your choice, as I have none myself." I feel for the stag sitting in front of me. Such despair and sorrow in his voice... 

I looked away from him, not being able to believe how cruel my father really was. Mama had told me that he wasn't a good man, that's why when she found out she ran away with me to protect me from him. "I didn't know what I was getting into when I accepted this deed. A lot has happened in a single day. Finding out I had met my dad at my work of all places, somehow being transported here, finding this place and meeting you, who knows more about me than most just from a picture. I couldn't have imagined any of this from his ramblings. But... yes. I intend to be a good Master, to the Palace and to you. I know you're feeling me out, trying to see if I am the same as my father. But I'm not trying to trick you. By what you've told me, I'd have no reason to. Maybe it's hard for you to believe me right now, but I mean it."

Nyx does not answer at first. Only his deep breathing cuts the room's silence. "It's been so long. I don't know for how many years I was locked away. I must admit, the mere thought of asking gives me chills. Master, can you... imagine? For centuries, I've been tending to this Palace. It was my mercy, what saved me from torture and gave me purpose. It was hard work, and not all Masters have been kind over the centuries. But it was wonderful nonetheless, I enjoyed every moment of it. And then... Master Bastien died. I could have done more to try and stop him. I should have. The he came, Cassius. I am used to pain, but I had grown accustomed to having a purpose." 

He looks up at me, into my eyes. "Today you freed me, took me into your service, and now you call tell me you wish to be a good Master. Allow me to speak frankly. I am afraid of you. Terribly so. You are my jailer." He lets out a sigh, as if confessing that had taken some weight off of him. "Over the centuries I grew comfortable with enjoying my Masters, but after Cassius it's all come back to me. I am so afraid of what you can do to me. There's no choice but to obey your every command. I am so sorry for saying this. It is profoundly out of place for the Keeper to address the Master in such a way. I suppose that, even if I'm afraid of you I've lost my fear of pain and overstepping boundaries. All of that said... Despite my fear, I find myself... wanting to believe you." Nyx gets up from the sofa and walked up to me.

He's clearly tipsy, stumbling about as he approaches. The stag kneels before me. "I wish dearly for your words to be true. I am not afforded choice on whether or not I shall obey you. I am a Prisoner. But if indeed your words are true, if your heart is truly set on being a good Master... Then I shall follow you. Not out of duty, but out of want — and were I ever allowed true freedom I would remain by your side. I swore to serve you, and now I swear to follow you — for as long as your word holds true." He looks up to me. The room is dark, lit only by moonlight coming through the window, but I can see a glimmer in the stag's eye. I pull him from his kneeling position into a hug.

He is light, barely heavier than a child. In my arms he is stiff and cold, but just as my hands stroke his back he returns the gesture and rests his muzzle on my shoulder. He sniffles once, twice, and presses his face into my neck. "Thank you, Master." He breathes in deeply, as if learning my scent. Night quickly settles. The Palace has no electricity, but I can do with candle. My shadow and Nyx's slither onto the walls, trembling alongside the flickering flames. The Master's quarters are filled with the velvety sounds of life — breathing, footsteps, furniture creaking under me. From outside, a passerby would see this ruined Palace with a single candle-lit window.

If he perchance tried exploring it, he'd only find unending hallways of black and white marble. He could seek out the comfort of this candle-lit room but would never find it, locked away as it is behind a doorless wall. Silence drips back over the two of us. More often than not Nyx is turned towards me, following with his gaze. Just when I realize how hungry I am, he summons a humble feast for me — fruit, cheese, water, even a regular bottle of wine. He turns his back to you to set the table. He stumbles a bit, and a few apples roll off to the ground. I catch him giving me a sideways glance. His nostrils flare under his nervous breathing. Nyx seizes.

His back broadens as he breathes in, and then his shoulders slouch forward with his exhale. He gazes back at me, as if trying to say something, and after a few seconds he returns to setting the table. His tail flicks behind him, perhaps even with some chirpiness. When dinner is ready, he presents it to me with a half-smile on his lips. My candle-lit dinner is simple and uneventful. Any offer to have Nyx eat alongside me is brushed off with a shake of his head. It's a long, deliberate movement. I then ask him if there's any way to restore the Palace's electricity. "There is, yes. We must perform the revival ritual, and for that we must use a special object. It is an obsidian dagger, and it will bring the entire Palace back to life." Shortly after, with nothing else to do for the night, the both of us find rest in our respective rooms.

The deer minotaur dreams. 

After another taxing day of being used and abused, Nyx sought comfort in his Master's quarters. Master Cassius was in the dining hall, holding a party that Nyx would rather not attend. Not that he was wanted, anyway. He planned on just going to his room, but something had caught his eye. He turned towards it and saw that it was the photograph of Ari, Cassius' daughter. He gingerly plucks it from the shelf and scans the image. He remembers what Cassius had said about her. How she was so smart and ambitious. That she was born to dance. Cassius had joked that she was dancing before she started to walk. While Cassius was never part of her life, he had made sure to keep tabs on her.

She's so full of life. Wherever she goes, happiness and kindness follow right behind her. Hearing more and more about the girl, he found himself wanting to know her personally. But what started as wanting to be her friend, slowly turned into a pining for her. He so desperately wanted to love her, give her every part of himself. He closes his eyes and hums but when he opens them, he finds himself in a field of white flowers that seemed to stretch forever.. Everything was glowing, especially a certain person. It's then that he realizes that it's Ari. But as he continues to stare, she morphs into a man. A man he knows is Jiàn... his new master. Jiàn was humming a sweet tune as he braided flowers together.

Jiàn smiled and looked up to meet his eyes. He suddenly jumped up and started laughing as he ran away, looking back at Nyx, beckoning him to chase after him. A playful smile found his lips as he started walking in the direction of where Jiàn was going. Jiàn glanced back, before laughing again and speeding up. The two ran through the field, the summer breeze playing with the Jiàn's hair. However, their little game ended when Nyx reached out and grabbed Jiàn, bringing him into his chest as they fell to the ground. Nyx now laid on his back, staring down at the heap of a man on top of him. Panting softly, Jiàn looked up at Nyx . He hummed softly as he pushed himself up, his face now level with Nyx's.

No words were spoken as the two got lost in each other's eyes. Jiàn smirked before a look of yearning filled his gaze as he leaned forward and captured Nyx's lips. Nyx hummed into the kiss, feeling that all too familiar warm feeling build up in his chest. As they parted, a string of saliva kept them connected before ultimately breaking. "Where are you today? On a distant planet? Or perhaps you're deep in the jungle." Jiàn laughs and pulls back to look into Nyx's eyes. He brings a hand up and lovingly strokes the deer's cheek. "It's such a shame that dreams don't last long, especially the good ones." With a final kiss, the serene field starts to crumble and so does Jiàn.

He jumps from dream to reflection. Master Bastien and Cassius. The cold room. The new Master. Freedom from the darkness. Food — and wine. Nyx grasps the dusty sheets. It's been decades since he slept on a bed. He feels no bedsores on his back. Instead of the cold room's stench there is only the slightly mold smell of his old room. His lips — half deer, half skeletal — threaten to curl into a smile. But doubt eats away at him, churns in his stomach. The stag unceremoniously rises from his bed. No matter what comes next he must work, work and then work some more. While he shuffles through the he mumbles an old poem from memory.

"You came. And you did well to come. I longed for you and you brought fire. To my heart, which burns high for you." A mirror makes it clear how much of a disgrace he is. The gaping, fleshless hole in his skull makes his ichor bubble and threaten to burst from his mouth. But... he's less of a disgrace than he was the day before. And for the last fifty years. There is some mercy in that. He forces a half-smile and goes out. As soon as he steps out, however, his ear flicks. He catches a distant tune — chirpy, once could say even joyous. It is faint but unmistakable.The smile disappears from his face and is replaced with a ghostly grim canvas.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Hazbin Hotel Review part 2: Mistakes were made please don’t kill me

This pilot is polarizing at the moment. In between the two sides of the anti-fanbase (ppl crying “if you like HH you’re homophobic”, or the BWW with it’s cringey politics), you have lots of fans who are falling over themselves about how good this is. If you love Hazbin unconditionally that’s fine, but here’s the thing:

I like it too.

I’m the kind of person who’s naturally critical, pokes harmless fun at what I like, and is always rewriting and reimagining things within the fandoms I like. I want to be a ‘Hazbin’ fan but I don’t know if I’m allowed to since the fanbase can be so staunchly overprotective and Viv herself has said she doesn’t like criticism, no matter how valid or done in good faith.

Tbh, that’s why the drama revolving around @frootrollup1​ upsets me: the fandom is fine with lumping all criticism or redesign stuff in the realm of ignorant hate, when redesign, rewrites, revamps and other fan dribble are kind of a labor of love onto itself in other fandoms. Guess that’s a talk for later though.

With all this in mind, let me go over my thoughts:

There’s no PROPER establishment of Hell as a place, setting, world, or proper establishment of the characters.

The armor-piercing question Hazbin needs to be asked is this:

“is this a generic version of Hell we should all be familiar with and need no introduction to, OR is this a unique take that requires it’s own rules?”

^ It feels like the latter but we don’t get a good rundown of said rules. Besides that, characters are one note and serve either no purpose or become flies on the wall to other characters’ purpose.

Things were said and places were shown but we honestly don’t get a good idea of Hell by the end of the pilot. It’s a ritzy(?) place where souls of the damned literally become demons and then get purged. I THINK. I THINK, that’s what the writer’s were going for here. TBH, it feels like they’re skipping ahead and thinking of the show as a finished, fully realized product with developed characters and plots already, and not an introduction to a series/standalone piece.

If I didn’t have some inkling or the lore prior to watching it, I wouldn’t have known that the demons sans-Charlie were once human. Angel says in passing in the car that he’s already dead, but really references to the fact that they were once human are rare.

Now I’m a simple woman - I ain’t picky with mah demonology - But, call me crazy, when I think Hell I don’t think of the people who end up there turning into demons, I think of people going there to be tortured. That’s the hell I’m used to seeing and is prevelant in like every religion that has a hell. Taking a spin on that and making demons the souls of sinners trapped in hell? A-okay, but I NEED MORE. Instead of talking in a car or spending time on this lolsofuny demon turf war, we really needed more time given to the fact that Vaggie, Angel, and others were once human. No, I don’t want a full flashback, but it would give us a better grasp of the mechanics of sin in this world if these two characters told a little bit more themselves than just having some lines offhandedly explaining how everything works. 

EX- How to do revamp of a familiar setting right while still leaving certain details vague? One Word: Hadestown. 

Hadestown doesn’t need to give you all the details of it’s setting cause that’s not the point. You don’t need to know if the workers of Hadestown are literally dead, metaphorically dead, or both or where other gods live. Those aren’t the things we need to know for the musical to progress. What we need to know is Hades’ underworld is a mining colony of doom, that Hades buys peoples souls so the workers can never leave, that Persephone and Hades are on the rocks which is messing up the seasons, and that oop! Eurydice had to go back. Between the commonplace to complex knowledge westerners have of Greek mythology and the revamped Prohibition-era setting, all is explained that we the audience need explained.

I have the feeling Hazbin Hotel wanted the same thing: explain what needs to be explained for the currant plot and leave bits and pieces in the dark. It just didn’t really work.

The flow of the narrative was bad.

So apparently on the PizzaPartyPodcast Vivziepop admitted there were things that were moved around or turned out rushed.

Fair enough but even with that excuse can someone please tell me why they thought it was a good idea to start the story after Angel has already been made a patron of the hotel?

Getting to know not only how the world works first and foremost, but who our main character (Charlie) is and what she is doing (the hotel), would be the easiest way to drop us into the action of the story and get the ball rolling. But instead we start off with an intro song that sort of shows us what this world is like but doesn’t explain anything about who or what we’re seeing until the newscasters come in. Angel’s introduced in this time and the build up and execution of this character is poor, rushed, and feels more like writers fudging around with a character they like than giving us, the audience, a proper introduction*.

After that, I’m sorry to say the spots where the story picks up, drifts off, lulls about, or comes around all kind of melt into this big slurry the characters are drowning in, without any real care for telling a story. BUT THIS IS A STORY!!!

This is not a little menagerie of random characters ala the Pastoral Symphony from Fantasia. This is not a collection of little things just for the fun of it to get to to know these people (it does a bad job at getting you to know these guys). This is a three act structure. I can tell where the intro, rising action, climax, and falling action are SUPPOSED to be, but they don’t stand out, don’t do their job, and melt into the fluff in a way that makes the emotional impact we’re supposed to feel null somehow...

The pacing was bad. 

While some scenes go by far too quickly others go on for faaaaaaar too long. These are the bits that don’t surprise me when I hear this pilot was changed around, cut down, or fudged with a bit.

Scenes like this include Charlie’s back and forth with Katie Killjoy before and after her song, Charlie and Vaggie’s fight in the car, Alastor explaining himself to Charlie and Vaggie trying to talk him out of it, ALL of the Ser Pentious/Cherry Bomb terf fight bits.

Oddly, it feels like these parts are trying REALLY hard to get a point across but they end up being more of a hindrance to this otherwise snappy dialogue and supposedly simple set up. This pilot is 20+ minutes, but the bits we need to endear ourselves to our main cast are squandered on what the writers thought was “fun to write” at the time.

Too many characters, even in a 20 minute pilot. 

Instead of getting a good idea of our leads, everyone is treated with the same level of importance or interest in a world that hasn’t even been fully introduced yet.

The truly important supporting characters to Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Alastor are Husk, Katie, and Nifty. Katie provides conflict to the first half of Charlie’s story, while Husk and Nifty are hires by Alastor for the hotel; they establish his power over other demons and his influence on the hotel and it’s success. Sir Pentious and Cherry Bomb needed to be cameos. Their characters should be glorified plot contrivances/resolutions, No More. I ain’t gonna care about a cast of billions from the start. We gotta start small first. Not only do we have four mains, we also have a bunch of little guys who need to eat up screen time...except they absolutely don’t need to and should be simple background cameos for now.

Sir Pentious and Cherry Bomb get as much character time as the four mains even though Angel is underdeveloped and Alastor is overdeveloped. When it comes to storytelling - unconventional or otherwise - priorities, is what this pilot needs.

Angel basically does nothing after Alastor is introduced. 

Of all the characters in Hazbin to get left in the dust (lol) and be underdeveloped, Angel Dust would be my last guess. He’s popular with his creator and with the fandom but because of how the pilot is set up, his character falls to the back-burners and is kind of unnecessary: (Charlie uses him as an experiment to see if she can reform a sinner but he doesn’t hold up, so when Alastor comes into play the focus of Charlie’s plan switches almost entirely to Alastor and Angel is unneeded). If this were two episodes of a series; one about Charlie getting to know and trying to “fix” Angel, and another about Alastor coming in and taking over, that’d be fine. But this is a pilot so the plot and character development is kinda crushed in and neither Angel nor his existence amounts to much of anything.

I honestly forgot Angel was even in the latter half of the pilot. The poor demon-spider whore dies on the way to his home planet.

Not to fan-blurb here but I think it’d be more interesting if the conflict in the latter half wasn’t Vaggie trying to warn Charlie away from Alastor but Angel feeling shown up by Alastor and him being the one protesting to Alastor’s take-over of the hotel. It would have given Angel more to do and would cement him as one of our four leads.

Alastor gets a backstory because he is A) not the character I thought they were going for, or B), they’re jumping the gun on him. Alastor is a maddening character in my book because if he’s the character I thought he was supposed to be - our main villain - then they royally messed up a good villain by explaining his story. If he ISN’T the main villain, than color me confused on what he’s supposed to be. 

It goes without saying that a good villain should remain somewhat mysterious throughout the rising action, which is what the pilot is building up to (I think?). Alastor’s personality makes him an absolutely wonderful villain and probably the most outwardly “demon”-like of anyone in Hell. Him being a rogue demon that scares the inhabitants of Hell should be alluded to, not stated.

Vaggie and Angel get passing “we dead” bg but our villain gets a backstory dumped on him? For the standalone pilot this episode is, his backstory doesn’t do anything for the plot. For the rest of the series, this feels like a big waste to reveal this guy’s history over anyone else. The rest of the HH cast are sorta small stereotypes and cliches that the writers want to endear to us because of what they do and what they go through, though since there’s too many of them they end up just being there. Alastor, on the other hand, is where they hit gold and really have a character who oozes personality and the feel of their show...but they kind of taint him by giving him an unneeded (at this point) history.

Big problem with him not only being explained but him outright stating his intentions with the hotel.

Maybe I’m wrong and Alastor is not the bigbadvillain in a cast of villains...in which case I don’t know what the pilot wants us to think of him or where the show’s going with him. Is he a demonic version of Harold Hill who learns to care about ppl and gets redeemed? Maybe that will change with future episodes....

Hazbin is confusing as a person not privy to the franchise/development prior ,and feels disappointing from the pov of someone getting hyped for these characters. As a follower of the project it feels like a let down to the respective characters and plots we’ve been anticipating. While, as newcomer, it’s hard to care about anyone. My sister, who had far less info on the pilot than me, was watching it the whole time going “who are you?” and by the end said “why should I care?” Really good summary from this IMDB review here:

Little harsh but my thoughts exactly.

TL;DR: The writers need to really rethink how to introduce their world to newcomers AND fans alike. -

There’s so much passion in Hazbin Hotel but I feel it’s misaimed and a prime example of why “write/draw what you like and what sounds ‘fun’!!!!” isn’t a good idea for storytelling.

There’s technically a story in Hazbin Hotel, but because of the bad pacing and lackluster approach to world and character development, for the kind of project that it is, it’s not very good. 

-

Again, for the people in the back: if you think I’m a bully because I happen to be harsh with my criticism, sorry but harsh critique isn’t the same thing as bad faith criticism (CinemaSins, NC, Bad Webcomics Wiki) and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lump me in with those turds because I don’t love every second of this. I may not be the best writer, but storytelling is my passion and I think this dropped the ball. IT DOESN’T MEAN I HATE IT. - Alternatively, if you love Hazbin unconditionally or disagree with me on these things: great! Like what you like as long as everything’s safe, which it is. Stuff is problematic but hey so is everything look at the stuff I like. Also, if you’re one of those people who unironically says “if you like HH than I’m blocking you teehee unfollow me”, you fittingly have a very special seat in hell set up for you. Don’t threaten my friends cause you don’t like something they like. =)

[drink-n-watch]

This season of Psycho Pass is frustrating for me. There are some brilliant insights and promising pieces of world building but they get bogged down by a messy and overly complicated narrative or else squandered. But I’m not going to bore you with story structure today. I know most people aren’t really into that sort of thing. Instead let’s start things off on something people do want to now, how are you Matt?

I’m fine, thanks for asking!

This week picked up with the denouement of the immigrant plot and, spoiler alert, it kind of fizzled.

Oh-ho-ho, I guess this’ll be a review where we disagree a lot then! This was my favourite episode in a while!

I’m blaming Steins;Gate for my lack of focus this week though, seems I cannot hear the name Kurisu without thinking back on it! And you know how it is, once I start thinking about Steins;Gate I need a minute to get back to reality.

I’m surprised it took you this long in this review series to mention Steins;Gate! That’s gotta be a personal record for you!

Anywho, from my personal tastes, Psycho Pass have been introducing way too many characters since the start of the season without bothering to really develop any of them so by now I’m straining to just keep proper track of everyone and their motivations, let alone form an emotional connection. I enjoy big ensemble casts but not when you also have to weave in such a complex plot.

For instance, I never really connected with Sister, Kurisu or the other two. I also don’t care about any of the roundrobin players at this point. So even though the revelation of Kurisu being alive and his twisted plan were more or less coherent, they really didn’t have the impact on me they should have.

I didn’t connect with any of the religious leaders of Kurisu either–but I mean were we supposed to?

Yup.

What did get a surprisingly emotional reaction from me was the revelation that Kei is o.k. In fact he seems to have healed up nicely between episodes. And although Heaven’s Leap apparently had kidnapped Maiko for leverage against him, they immediately switched the bait to information about his brother which was just silly. I have a feeling it’s these guys’ first high level shake up.

As much as I loved Maiko’s badass turn later in the episode (and the potential consequences it has for her hue) the villains’ motivation and having Maiko dragged into it all seemed kind tacked on for added drama, but whatever I’m glad she’s not dead!

Hur hur hur… “dangerous bottom”

We got to see a lot of Kei and his daring escape attempts and I thought that part was way more fun than Arata tracking down Kurisu. Except for the few times he got to use his trace and am I the only one who thought that was such Donnie Darko imagery? Never mind, I’m probably the only one who still remembers Donnie Darko.

Oh I remember Donnie Darko, only because it’s one of my least favourite films of all time but let’s not get too distracted from the topic at hand…

Why have I never realized before that Shion has a mullet? A femullet!

To me, the most promising reveal we got this episode was the conversation between Mika and her boss (I’m sorry I don’t remember her name). It seems the really not all that secret, secret criminal organization Bifrost, has gotten a touch too bold and Sybil is getting ready to bite back. As a premise that in itself holds a lot of promise. Though I remain wary about execution.

They better not rush the (presumed) demise of Bifrost into a single episode, it’s too soon (in my opinion).

In my opinion, this sort of arc would work best if we got a bit more info on Bifrost. Do we even know what the winner actually gets?

I imagine like most incredibly wealthy and powerful people its just bragging rights. Being in Bifrost kinda seems like being in a way more high-stakes and influential game of Russian Roulette.

I keep saying this but because I have a blind spot in my Psycho Pass knowledge I can’t tell if the returning characters are simply inconsistent (that is NOT the Nobu I know!) or if their evolution has changed them considerably. It would probably be better if I also forgot the past seasons.

Your guess is as good as mine, and I even watched the other stuff!

Although the reveal mentioned above was indeed the most promising, it was not my favourite scene this week. Not by a long shot. That parallel to season 1 in the tunnels, with a white haired man holding a “helpless” woman hostage was simply brilliant. For most of it I was doing a snooty face and thinking to myself “I see what you’re trying to do and that’s cool and all but you’re really just drawing attention to how much better it was the first time around”. But then it subverted my expectations and I got to give it to Psyco Pass 3, that impressed me. Credit where credit is due, that was a very good scene. I’m trying not to describe it in too much details cause spoilers but you can see it in the caps.

I think I jumped the gun and mentioned it earlier but yes, a definite highlight.

In general though, for me, this episode was a few shiny moments in an otherwise dull mass. The art quality once again went down. Character motivations were often spotty and the twist ending, although not bad in and of itself, comes a bit too soon in my opinion. I would have enjoyed a bit of respite as to me this is getting close to melodrama and the stakes are already out of control.

For the first time in a couple of weeks I finally felt like I was able to properly follow everything going on and enjoy it all too with very few complaints. My particular favourite part was the final ‘confrontation’ between Kurisu and Arata, not only was it visually impressive–evoking some future-neon art sensibilities reminiscent of ‘Blade Runner’–but also having Sho there constantly checking Arata’s crime coefficient throughout and watching in disbelief as it dropped to zero was very cool. Maybe I was just happy to see this part of the story ~end~ in a satisfying way when I was so wary about it being possible last week but those are my thoughts anyway.

    Psycho Pass s3 ep7 – That Looks Familiar This season of Psycho Pass is frustrating for me. There are some brilliant insights and promising pieces of world building but they get bogged down by a messy and overly complicated narrative or else squandered.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Dollhouse s01e01 ‘Ghost’

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, three times.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Six (40% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Nine.

Positive Content Rating:

Two. TW: child sexual abuse, and I don’t consider it well-handled by the narrative. It should not be there. 

General Episode Quality:

A very strange way to begin a show (mostly for the above reason).

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Adelle and Caroline pass as the episode begins. Dr Saunders gives Echo a check-up. Echo and Sierra pass out in the field.

Female characters:

Adelle DeWitt.

Caroline Farrell.

Echo.

Davina Crestejo.

Claire Saunders.

Sierra.

Male characters:

Matt Cargill.

Boyd Langton.

Topher Brink.

Gabriel Crestejo.

Laurence Dominic.

Paul Ballard.

Mr Sunshine.

Anton Lubov.

James Shepherd.

OTHER NOTES:

Some sources may try to tell you to watch the unaired pilot episode ‘Echo’ first, but you really, really should not do that. It exists completely outside the continuity of the rest of the series, half of the content is immediately retconned, and the other half is recycled and used throughout the first five episodes of the series instead. Also, it’s a really, really bad pilot episode, I am zero percent shocked that they were sent back to the drawing board. It tries to do way too much at once, laying out a huge amount of story in way too little time, and consequently it comes off over-stuffed and amateurish. The first five episodes of the series-proper are far, far less central-plot-heavy, and while that is unfortunate in that none of them are very strong or particularly compelling, the more relaxed, drawn-out process of establishing and developing the mythology of the series is infinitely preferable to the jumbled, noisy, everything-at-once nature of the shitty unaired pilot. 

We could argue variously about whether or not to count the different imprints as actual characters, and it would be a very meta argument if we did, but for the purposes of this blog the doll characters will only be listed as differentiated individuals a) as their original personalities, b) as long-term imprints who exist significantly enough within the narrative that they form their own lives/memories/connections that aren’t just programmed experiences, and c) as their doll designations, the names of which I will continue to use for both their blank-slate and their temporary imprints. That’s just how it’s gonna be.

Reed Diamond is here, and that’s, y’know, everything. Reed Diamond is love, Reed Diamond is life. 

Ballard’s introductory scene has him being instructed by his FBI bosses to stop 1) harassing politicians and public figures 2) committing crimes, and 3) interfering in other investigations, specifically the ongoing efforts to shut down a major human trafficking pipeline. His bosses also emphasise that he should dial back on these things on account of the fact that he has no actual evidence to support the ‘need’ for any of those actions, and, um. He should listen to his bosses, actually. The scene is designed to demonstrate to us that Ballard is professionally isolated and a bit of a maverick, that he has absolutely no intention of backing down in his investigation, but also that he’s on to something and that he’s gonna have to keep pursuing it despite the obstruction of the higher-ups and the rich and powerful Dollhouse-using people they protect. Thing is though, what he’s doing is absolutely rubbish FBI work. I mean, it sounds rather a bit like he should be fired (being an FBI agent does not entitle him to commit criminal offenses. That’s not how being FBI works). He might satisfy his own curiosity about things during the commission of his various felonies, but he can’t legally obtain evidence that will hold up in court, and therefore he’s actively jeopardising his own investigation through his ‘maverick’ methods. And if he also genuinely jeopardised the human trafficking case because he’s on his own righteous crusade? That’s not ok. It’s not for him to prioritise his own investigation (for which he presently has no evidence) over the very real threat posed to those trafficked victims. I’m not getting ‘dogged maverick investigator’ from this intro, I’m getting ‘reckless self-important asshole’. I don’t think that’s the intended interpretation, but it’s what the text has presented. Also, it’s a fucking huge cliche.

First episode in, and the plot hinges on the inclusion of child sexual abuse. Not in a small way, either; Echo makes various direct references to being assaulted as a child, which is confronting and difficult to listen to, and an unnecessary, perverse detail to include. Particularly for the first episode of the series, this is a bizarre decision, and this content is way too heavy for the attitude and tone of the rest of the story (which is not exactly light and frivolous itself, but it’s not up to the task of grounding a discussion of child rape). It’s also a wildly convenient turn of events that this particular abuser just-so-happens to show up, and that kind of lazy coincidental storytelling is the last thing you want when you’re invoking something of this traumatic magnitude.

To make matters worse, while the narrative dwells on the actual abuse, it really kinda glosses over the confrontation with the rapist and the idea of any kind of catharsis, in saving Davina, knowing that the rapist is dead now and can never hurt anyone again, etc. The focus makes it feel as though Joss Whedon just really wanted to do a story about child rape, and the idea of telling that story in a way that is sensitive to real-life survivors or that places the focus on their survival or literally anything other than using this excuse to have someone describing childhood assault didn’t really occur to him. I feel like the potential for this to be upsetting and/or offensive to real-life survivors is pretty high.

The child rapist hits Echo in the face. This will be an extremely common occurrence.

Let’s be real: the sexual abuse aspect of this story did not need to be there. It didn’t. I initially wrote a whole paragraph about how easily you could tell this story with the actual kidnapping as the central trauma, and no child abuse necessary to make the plot unfold exactly as it does, but that’s a moot point: the point is that a very poorly-explored rape-trauma was used as the centre-piece of this episode, and it’s utterly unnecessary, extremely odd for the beginning of a series which is not about child sexual abuse, but also, it’s directly in keeping with the fact that Joss Whedon is a rape-fetishising misogynist who uses his ill-gotten reputation as a ‘feminist’ to get away with writing egregious abuse of women and then claiming that it’s ok because his abused female characters are #StrongWomen. We’re gonna talk about that a lot as this show unfolds.

The truth is, this was the first of Whedon’s shows I ever saw, and the first time I watched it? I loved it. This was in 2010, and my discernment skills had yet to be honed, and the fact that this was my first adventure into the Whedonverse is important because I wasn’t able to judge Dollhouse by comparison to Whedon’s other work like I can now, so his obsession with rape and with chronic abuse of women was not clear to me then as it is now I’ve seen a whole lot of his travesties. But it wasn’t just that I was less critical of the content back then; I also loved the show because it’s honestly a fantastic premise, and the majority of the cast is incredible, and there are some truly inspired episodes in amidst the rot. I have rewatched the series several times since my first viewing (though not for a few years, until now), and independent of my growing revulsion for Whedon’s misogyny, I’ve gotta say: this isn’t a show that improves on review. This is a show with flaws, loads of them, and some of them are cataclysmically large. Once you’ve seen it all before a couple of times, you really start to see the cracks (and cracks in the cracks), and it’s incredibly frustrating to realise how much they squandered what could have been a truly great series exploring some wonderful cerebral concepts in an original and compelling way. As I said, it has been years since I watched this last, and so I’m interested to see how I feel about it now. I don’t anticipate it being very good; I think I’ll be angry most of the time, and these posts will be dripping with it. But I also expect that there will be some good in the mix, and some of what once made me adore this show will remain intact. At the very least, I figure I’ll always have something to say. Probably not nice things, most of the time. We’ll see.

[dirthavarens]

always;;ignoct

Fandom: FFXV Pairing: Ignis Scientia/Noctis Lucis Caelum // Implied Ravus/Ignis Characters: Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ravus Nox Fleuret Rating: M (Language) Words: 2,461 Gifted to: @duscaenorange​ READ ON AO3

LISTEN, I got really emotional. Also I love the idea of Ignis having a fuck buddy who knows he’s in love with Noct.

“It’s not me you think of when those lights go out and I’ve been fine with it for these two years, but you needn’t lie to me or yourself any longer. Ignis, you’re living the life of a coward and that is unlike you. I’ve spoken to my sister and she to Noctis. I will speak no further, but I suggest you wipe that blank expression off your face and prepare yourself. Don’t deny your emotions and disregard your strict reasoning. It’s not often people in your position are given this opportunity. Do not squander it…”

Ravus is already at the door when he finishes his preachings and Ignis cannot quiet the internal sense of dread that creeps upon him. He knows full-well what has been set in motion and for all the yearning he had done in his life, he cannot fathom what would happen next. His trysts with Ravus Nox Fleuret were known to him, he could see his unstable life before him, he could see the downfall and the inevitable end when Ravus wished for something with stability and Ignis could not offer it to him. He could see his life as a chamberlain, always at Noct’s side but never how he wanted to be. But Ravus’s words made his blood run cold and he cannot bring himself to look as he listens to the door close.

Alone in his apartment, Ignis finally brings himself to peer around the space he calls home only in name. The lights are dim in the living room, the television droning on as the news plays on it; the weather is on at current, rainy days are in store. He has a few shelves of neatly organized books and movies with a few decorative ends and trinkets he’s been given over time. Most are gifts given to him from Noct in their shared youth, and the chill he felt earlier melts with the gentle trickle of sentimentality. He permits himself to indulge in memories never forgotten. Two boys running around the Citadel together, learning, growing, laughing, and all of this done with the carefree innocence of youth.

His gaze stops at a small jar filled with one solitary stone and a nostalgic smile spreads across his lips as he stands to examine it closer. Ignis closes the gap between himself and the bookcase and runs a finger over the smooth glass of the jar as memory sparks.

  “Isn’t it pretty, Iggy?” a wide-eyed child inquires, eyes too-blue and curious for Ignis to keep from smiling. He finds nothing particularly special about the rock, but he takes it regardless; the grin on his lips mirroring the one on his companion’s features. “You gotta keep that one forever, okay? We can’t be apart if you have that stone because see, look, I found one just like it.”

No older than six and already sentimental. Noct holds another stone up and it is somehow the exact same as the one Ignis holds in his hand. Together, they hold the rocks to the sun and watch as they sparkle in tandem. His free hand twitches as he feels something move closer to it. He knows what it is and seizes it immediately and together they stand hand-in-hand as they stare at their stones.

“You’ll be with me forever, right?” Noct asks later that evening while they sit in the garden, staring up at the night sky.

“Always.” Ignis replies with a wide smile, his hand once again finding Noct’s and lacing their fingers together.

He removes his hand from the jar as a rueful grin pulls at his lips. It’s a sentiment repeated over and over throughout their relationship. Always together, never apart, through the strains of Noct’s marriage to Lunafreya, and tangled into the web of seclusion Ignis has weaved for himself, he always held Noct close. If only in his thoughts.

A knock at his door sends trepidation tumbling through him, but he regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. Now is not the time to falter, he reminds himself as he moves toward the door. Ignis knows who waits on the other side and ponders for just a moment if this will really solve anything or if it will just make matters worse. He knows full well the type of attachment he has with Noct, just as he knows how unprofessional that attachment was. With that in mind, he opens the door and sees those too-blue eyes staring up at him fear and anxiety deeply woven into them.

It’s a fear he knows too well, but alway knew just how to hide it. Noct, however, was not as fortunate when it came to being able to mask his emotions, or perhaps Ignis knew him too well and could read him with a single glance. Regardless, Ignis did not anticipate seeing that particular brand of fear on Noct’s face and it keeps him from a proper greeting. Noct, however, is quick on the uptake and speaks without hesitation.

“We need to talk,” Noct says as he enters. Ignis shuts the door behind them and nods once. He has heard those words before from another’s mouth, yet somehow regarding the same topic.

  Ravus barges into the apartment, pushing by Ignis and takes to leaning against his kitchen island. Usually when Ravus is forcing himself into Ignis’s space it’s for less savory matters, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. Whatever it is he wants, Ignis feels he may have to ask the other to take his leave. They went into this relationship knowing that it was purely physical and nothing more. Ravus understood there was to be no further discussion as to why. They were both extremely busy, too busy for any type of romance. All they were to each other was stress relief; and that’s how it would stay or Ravus could forget their arrangement altogether.

“You do well to hide your emotions, you know, but not all is hidden. I can see the way you look at him and I can’t help but wonder what it is you’re doing with your time sneaking around with me when it’s clearly him you want. I need to hear the truth from you. I’ve known your mind to venture elsewhere when we spend time together, but never did I think it went there. Your connection to him is deeper than any I’ve seen and your loyalty is unwavering. My dear sister has told me stories of her youth when he would speak of nothing but you until she made a point to change the subject. Thus, I ask: You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Ignis feels his blood boil, the garish light shone upon his truth burns him as fire does the skin, and he cannot bring himself to look Ravus in the eye. Instead, he takes to working over his jaw as he moves further into the apartment. Guilt twists in his gut as Ravus’s venomous gaze refuses to remove itself from him. Ignis stops juxtaposition Ravus, a section of his back firmly against the smooth marble of the counter as he crosses his arms tightly across his chest.

“I figured as much. Then why? Why waste your time fucking someone you are not interested in beyond the physical rush? I don’t mind being used, but I’d prefer knowing just what I’m being used for,” Ravus continues in an even tone, though Ignis can hear the sting of muffled bitterness in the undertones of his words. “I’m nothing like him.” “We had an agreement in the beginning to never make mention of our arrangement,” Ignis begins curtly, his voice as sure-footed as ever. He could only pray it remained as such. “But it seems you are not going to waver on your stance. So let me say this to you, Ravus. I will talk to you about anything, debate until my lungs give out. We can talk about anything you like, but not him. He’s not a topic to be discussed, an object or secret to be whispered about, and I will not stand here and have accusations thrown at me, regardless their pertinence. If you’ve more to say, I might ask that you refrain, for it will find you no merit here. If you wish to keep our meetings as they are, then they can, but he is something we cannot speak of.”

Ignis relaxes as he turns to see Ravus staring at the floor, clearly wrapped up in his thoughts. Even if he decided to speak to anyone else of this, there was nothing that could be done. Noct and Luna have been married a year and their arrangement was one that quieted a war waged several years prior. Ignis was not one to disrupt the flow of events for his own gain and he certainly would not take such a chance when so much was at risk. Not to mention he never knew Noct’s exact feelings.

“I ran into Ravus on the way here. He said you’d be expecting me,” Noct states quietly as he stays just inside the door, his back turned to Ignis as he speaks. His form is wavering and Ignis can all but smell the uncertainty on him. Whatever it is that he’s so afraid of saying, Ignis has recited in his head a thousand times over. Nothing could catch him by surprise more than the fact that Noct was actually standing in his apartment having this conversation. He only hopes he’s not getting ahead of himself. Ignis places his hand on Noct’s shoulder and feels as it tenses under his grip.

They share a silence as Noct’s shoulder relaxes into Ignis’s touch before turning around so they are face to face. Ignis always imagined what he would say in this situation, the day he could finally tell Noct all those words he held close to heart, always out of reach. But he falters now, coming up blank as he gazes upon the anxious man in front of him. Everything was laid bare and yet nothing is being said. Ignis wants to say something, anything, to break the silence because he knows the longer he keeps him there in the quiet, the more time he’s giving him to back out. It’s been over a year since they found themselves entirely alone in a place of complete privacy. He has to say something.

“Noct…” is all he manages to get out and that’s all he needs to say. His lifelong companion is moving closer and the hand that was on Noct’s shoulder finds its way to upward to cup his jaw and cheek. His head spins as they share a breath, inhaling and exhaling in tandem as everything strikes him with clarity. He’s here. This is real. Noct is an inch away from his lips and he can taste the scent of him on his tongue.

Not wanting to wait another second, Ignis closes the gap and guides Noct upward to join their lips in a single, painfully tender kiss. He traces the tip of his nose along the side of Noct’s before kissing him again, indulging in the softness of those lips he had spent too long thinking of. He places his other hand at the small of his back and pulls him closer still, wanting the tangible contact he thought impossible for years. Noct’s head rests against him and before long the two are sharing an embrace, wrapped entirely in the other’s arms.

Ignis does not bother to withhold the hitch in his breath when he gazes upon Noct’s face after they separate. The genuine warmth radiating from him is contagious and it takes Ignis with little resistance. Never had he felt the elation that ruminates through him, swallowing him like an ocean he’s not afraid to drown in. With no need to force his desires and affections into the background, he feels...happy. As simply put as he can possibly make it, seeing Noct standing before him with flushed cheeks and a genial grin, Ignis Scientia is a happy man.

“Again and don’t stop until I say,” Noct demands more than asks before leaning upwards. Not wanting to deny either of them the opportunity, Ignis gladly obliges him and seizes awkwardly seizes his lips. He always hated kissing while smiling, but there was something amazing about the experience now. Both try to keep the connection as they maneuver the apartment, but Noct breaks the kiss once to find his bearings and Ignis waits with a new kind of eagerness, something bordering excitement. “Couch.”

Before Ignis can agree or disagree, Noct’s fingers tangle into the fabric of Ignis’s shirt, guides him the rest of the way, and pushes him onto the cushions. Ignis is about to grab at Noct’s waist to pull him down when Noct raises a finger. Confusion washes over him as Noct reaches into his pocket. In his hand, he holds a stone that sets his soul alight. He watches as Noct scans the room and finds the small jar.

“You had this our entire trip to Altissia. I know you tried to keep it hidden but I saw it one day in Lestallum. I wanted to say something then, but given what we were doing, I didn’t think it would have been the best timing. Plus the guys were there and you know how that would have gone,” he jested as he picked up the jar. “I figured you might still have it on you and I’m glad you do because this one has been looking for a home for quite some time.”

The rock lands beside its twin with a clang in the glass jar before Noct seals it tightly. He holds it for a moment before bringing it over to the coffee table and placing it there, letting the setting sun hit the stones. They took a moment to watch as they shimmered in evening light. There’s something that feels right about what the scene, having Noct in his apartment as they explore a love nearly as old as they are. For as new as everything is, it feels timeless and proper, all anxieties pushed aside as they indulge in something they started so long ago.

“I meant what I asked that night,” Noct utters as he lowers himself to the couch. Ignis places a hand on his waist to help guide him until he’s basically straddling him on the cushion. “Forever?”

Ignis leans up and takes Noct’s lips in a slow kiss, breathing him in as his eyelids flutter delicately. It was almost embarrassing how well they fit together, how fluid and matching their actions were. They mirrored each other perfectly, as if made for each other. “Always.”

[necroticarachnidism]

> Cae: Be Ridiculous.

necroticarachnidism

Being kidnapped isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Your captors were certainly trying their best to be cruel, but the holding cell they shoved you in after their deranged "traps" wasn't as claustrophobic as it could've been, and incredibly clean. There was even one entire piece of unnecessary furniture, in the form of an incredibly cheap and tacky folding screen. The only problem is that it's always inevitably interrupted by-

"HOW ARE YOU TWO DOING IN THERE? LOOKS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A PRETTY GOOD TIME! NOT."

That.

You and Dualscar both groan at the voice you've become far too accustomed to over the course of this trip. At the very least the ringleader and their cronies were here in the flesh, though, which was marginally better than having to hear them abuse a squeaky intercom.

The leader pulls a set of handcuffs out of their pocket and starts spinning them around on their finger before they almost immediately fly off and fall to the ground. After picking it up they almost try again before deciding against it and handing the handcuffs to one of the other gang members.

"I'm going to need you to cooperate with my friend here. We're doing something special tonight, and it needs a helping hand from each of you."

trolljacksparrow

"Why, can't you...HANDle it yourself? You know it'll just get out of hand otherwise." You hate yourself sometimes, you really do.

It could be worse, they could be competent.

However, incompetent as they are, you are Not going along for the ride. They've been haranguing you and your friend for DAYS! You're not giving them an inch! So instead, you muster up a defensive snarl. Its difficult to be mad at them, considering how pathetic they are, but you try to think about how awful your hair looks after a week of neglect anx that gives you the Power necessary to access your battle face.

You jab a clawed finger in their general direction, fins flaring. "Listen....fuck you." Okay, try again.

You put up your dukes and bare your impressively large teeth. "Do you think we'll just hand ourselves over? Hell no! Come get some, motherfucker." Yeah the cmere  finger gesture is happening. Yeah.

necroticarachnidism

You also hate him sometimes, the puns get him a light smack on the arm. The gang seems rather happy about him playing along, though, because of course they are.

Which is then immediately squandered by his attempts to stand up to them. The one with the handcuffs growls a little and takes a step foward before being stopped by the leader.

"Listen," they say, rather flatly "we can do thi-"

"The easy way or the hard way, yes," you interject. "He's picking the hard one, please do continue."

They sigh at you, you sigh back louder, they sigh again and don't stop their associate from creeping closer as they try to engage Dualscar in a hissy match. The leader then makes a solid attempt at fishing their keys out menacingly.

"I'd prefer this not get violent, but if you really insist..."

caepaecaesurae

The tension was somehow starting to mount, despite the competence of half those involved, and threat hung in the air for nearly a second and a half before someone's phone rang.  It was tinny the first time, soft, as if just as uncertain as their captors, but quickly gained in confidence.  There was just enough time to momentarily doubt whether they had heard correctly when it called out again, more firmly, a second or two later.

Someone was definitely calling one of them, and it sounded suspiciously like the default ringtone of a popular chat program.  ...but where was it COMING from?

trolljacksparrow

Waitwaitwait theyre ACTUALLY gonna fight you??? Ohhhhohohoh fuck yesss you're gonna do ART THERAPY with their insides when---

You just look around in disbelief. After all, it cant be you.

"We're having this showdown type thing, and your phone is ringing? How are you that bad at paying attention and looking proper intimidating? What's next, I find out you had another nemesis on the side?? I'm almost hurt - and you wonder why im not going along with this? For all I know youll mistake our legs for arms and tie our feet together!" Cross your arms, huff, tut tut maybe.

......Remember what you were doing and uncross them, going back to posturing. "Anyway, violence for the violentblood - and honestly, do you really think you can take me? "

caepaecaesurae

Ring...    ...was it off to Nadaya's left?

necroticarachnidism

As the ringing started the leader immediately turned to the member of the group who hadn't been part of this incident with a very accusing look. Said member simply gestured to their form-fitting and clearly pocket-less outfit, then to the one with the handcuffs. The one with the handcuffs almost said something, then was immediately interrupted by Dualscar's monologue.

That pissed them off.

"I don't have a fucking phone! None of us having a fucking phone, holy shit, the only thing I have-" They trail off, realizing that they do in fact have something and pulling it out. It's some kind of gun, loaded with a vial. "The only thing I have is this! To drug your dumb ass again!"

"We're a real knockout with drugs." adds the catsuit one.

That was true, at least by comparison to everything else. Not only had they managed to drag you here in the first place but they had their hands on something that could fuck with your mind control. It was the one of the few things they'd actually pulled off.

Meanwhile, to Nadaya's left, the ringing sounds distinctly like it's off to your right. But they took your items, so if it's not them then...? You take a curious step closer and look intently at the area it sounds like it's coming from.

caepaecaesurae

Nadaya's claws tingled faintly, the fourth time it rang, on just his left hand.  Why was the ringing coming from so close by?  It seemed to be following the tips of his fingers, especially the thumb and little finger claws.

trolljacksparrow

Okay okay wow you are going to MURD--what. "Okay a real knockout with the drugs being plural is a bad pun since youre the only one vaguely knockouty and also quit it with the drugs okay what the fuck," you trail off just staring into your hand, and bringing it up to your face, digits with tingling sensations first. "What the fuck," indeed.

caepaecaesurae

His hand rang at him, right in his face, very distinctly.

trolljacksparrow

.........You make a phone gesture with the fingers. "What??????"

caepaecaesurae

There was a soft audible click, and a deep, familiar voice answered in a wry, almost affectionate tone.  "WVhere are you?"

necroticarachnidism

Catsuit winked at the half compliment but this was quickly overshadowed by...whatever was happening.

You personally were looking at this with clear curiosity instead of pure what the actual fuck.

trolljacksparrow

Okay, its. Sounding like your kismesis. Your magic, hope god kismesis. Oh, thank god, you're not losing your mind.

"Caesurae?? Honey is that you?? Gotta hand it to you, this is a brilliant way of contacting me," At this point, though, you were really looking forward to beating people up!

"Gimme two secs I'm gonna kick some ass first," and you deathgrin at your enemies, still talking in your hand.

caepaecaesurae

"Brilliance is one of my better traits," the voice agreed humbly.  "If you're sure, dear, I can call back in a fewv minutes, just wvanted to hear your vwoice."

Apparently the magic hand might actually let Nadaya handle this on his own if no one interjected.

necroticarachnidism

Nadaya's opponent is more baffled than enraged right now, but starts approaching the cell again when ass kicking is mentioned.

You are having none of that.

"Okay, pardon me, but I am not going to let you hang up on your fucking magic kismesis so this idiot can try to stab you."

caepaecaesurae

"Oh, hello!  Say, can you pass her the phone?"

trolljacksparrow

"Okay thats....fair enough I guess? I mean he wouldn't succeed, but, yeah. Can yall hold on on the death maze bullshit for a moment? Trés bitchinnnn'," and you pass Mindfang the....hand. You put her hand to her face.

caepaecaesurae

At some moment during the awkward fumbling, his claws would stop tingling and hers would start.

necroticarachnidism

There's almost a protest at Nadaya putting your hand to your face but you know what, you can't think of a reason for that not to work, it might as well, this is fine. Copy the phone gesture Nadaya was making.

"Caesurae, please tell me you have something planned, nobody else here does."

caepaecaesurae

"I wvas hoping to figure out wvhat wvas going on wvith you twvo, and if you needed a ride back."

trolljacksparrow

You can't help the smile on your face, you spent a week being unable to contact anyone and you miiiissed theeeeemmm... "We're starring in saw for idiots!" You add, hopefully loud enough to be heard.

necroticarachnidism

"We've been kidnapped and harrassed by mororns. Nadaya is apparently fine here fighting them but I'd quite like a way out."

That gets the group responsible looking around. Was...something going to happen?

caepaecaesurae

"Alright my dear.  I'd like you to try to accept a vwideo call, so I can send you something.  I'm sending the request nowv."

"Just... do your best."

trolljacksparrow

"You can teleport wwhy cant you just send us a phone, " This is getting Ridiculous.

necroticarachnidism

The word 'teleport' only makes the kidnappers more antsy. Meanwhile you...try your best. You make a rectangle with your hands.

caepaecaesurae

The rectangle filled with moving light!  There sure was a giant, slightly relieved looking Ampora sitting in a nice-ish livingroom.  He gave her a smile, adjusted something out of frame, and said -- "--There, I'vwe got wvhat I need."  He took a step back, produced a portable one-use transport pad, and spun it in his hands once, and then looked back towards her with a peculiar look of concentration...

...and it disappeared, and reappeared on the floor at her feet.

"--Dearest, I promise, there's a method here."

trolljacksparrow

"....You beautiful, angelic man you." Holy. Fuck. You offer Mindfang the crook of your arm like a gentleman or some shit, fins and ears perked up. "And you lot " with a menacing look at the assorted kidnappers, "better never brighten our nights again."

necroticarachnidism

Make sure the transportalizer is armed, and then absolutely take that arm, you are now the picture of elegance (minus all the appearance neglect).

After a moment the kidnappers try to scramble for the door, fumbling with the keys, but nowhere near fast enough to catch the two of you before you port away to...wherever this will take you.

caepaecaesurae

Mindfang and Dualscar are whisked away to Nadaya's ship -- and then the device they just left explodes behind them in a colorful fireball.  It might be enough to knock the saw wanna-be's off their feet, but probably not injure any of them unless they use the wrong hair products and are slow to put it out.

The moment her hands parted, Caesurae lost his connection to the video call -- but he scratched his chin, considered, and gave it a few long seconds.

...then Nadaya's pants rang.  If Nadaya swatted at his beltline to refuse the call, he'd laugh and consider it good.

trolljacksparrow

"Absolutely fucking not. I fucking hate him. Are you hearing this shit Sicari? I truly hate him."

You swat at your belt like your pants are on fire!

"Also hey Mindfang if you wanna like....use the bath here or sleep or whatever go ahead its all good - I'm gonna go....cling to him gleefully, honestly." You just. You are just Attention Starved by now.

necroticarachnidism

Rather undignified giggling at the swatting. Amporas.

"I think I'll take you up on that. I might drop by in a few hours to thank Caesurae personally, since it sounds like he'll be here for a while."

caepaecaesurae

The pants obediently stopped ringing when Nadaya refused the call.  Caesurae would be more than happy to apply attention to his missing and beloved quadmate, and to meet with Mindfang later.

trolljacksparrow

"Hey now," he couldnt contest that though. "Hey...now...listen." yeah. Yyyeaaah. Yeah, Nad's gonna dissappear to his quarters for a change of clothes at the least, and transportalize over to be very grateful and very tired at Caesurae - adrenaline barely let him sleep - but mostly just to be delighted and cuddle him.

caepaecaesurae

Caesurae missed him, and is glad he's back, and will happily cuddle him through a nap.

trolljacksparrow

The most affectionate nap. The most.

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 8

can’t believe I forgot to put the last 2 chapters of Echoes up here. Seeing as I’m about to upload chapter 9, I’ll put 7 and 8 up beforehand. Thanks for sticking around, guys!

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

        And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          'Why did we watch this again?' The credits are going, and a film Eggsy would love to erase from his memory is finally over. 'Rotten Tomatoes said it was good!'           'The popcorn was empty Rox, tha' means people didn't like it!' '40 percent isn't an awful rating, and we did say we were going to watch a shitty film.'           'There are limits! If I had a time machine the first thing I'd do is prevent this shit from existing!'

          'Really? The first thing you'd do with the ability to go back in time is stop this shitfest from existing?' He knows what she's getting at, but he can't think of that, not just then. He still needed time.           'It's called the butterfly effect, Rox, changin' one thing can affect a million others- who knows what erasing this film would do to the future! Imagine the good I could do!'           'Wow, Eggs' I'd never've guessed you knew about the butterfly effect- so full of surprises.'           'Oh, fuck off.' He shoves her off the arm of the couch, and she thumps to the ground with a yelp. He pretends he did it for comedic effect, but knows he did it to distract himself. He didn't need more will-o'-wisps of Harry in the house. 'Gotta have shit to impress the birds with, y'get me? An' alright some of the blokes, too; but I've always been wicked smart when I wanna be.'           'Sure you have, Eggsy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.' She pats his shoulder, nods sympathetically, and that's what pushes things from teasing to all out war.

          'Oi!' He throws a pillow in her general direction, sure to avoid the greasy pizza boxes sitting on the table in front of him. It knocks the glass from her hand, thankfully empty, and serves its purpose.           The night passes with relative ease, thankfully. The pillow war had resulted in them both being far too tired to move, and instead they had ended up cuddled up in the wreckage- JB curled up at their feet. Unfortunately, good things can't last, and they're woken by Roxy's glasses ringing from the coffee table.

          'Yes, Merlin?' She's stood up, all proper posture despite there being no one to impress, and faced the wall. He guesses it's a concentration thing, or maybe she (rightfully) thinks Eggsy would be making crass gestures and funny faces at her. Small pleasures.           'I'll be right in.' It's fucking weird to only hear half a conversation, but Eggsy's pretty sure he wouldn't have paid much attention even if he could hear. Being half asleep does that.           'I'm sorry to cut this short, Eggs-' She froze, mouth still open, eyes focused on something by the stairwell that he couldn't see. Sitting down on the floor made it difficult to see past couches and such.           'S'okay, Rox, Kingsman comes first- wouldn't have you withou' them now would I? ...Rox?' He waved a hand in front of her face, which wasn't such a smart idea because a startled Roxy is a dangerous Roxy, and she gripped his wrist so tightly he was certain it would bruise.           'How the fuck is Harry Hart in your house?'           'Oh, that don't you worry about it; it's just a thing Harry had that turned on after he died to show us his Will. You can ask Merlin and everythin'- why d'you think I don't wear my specs inside?' please don't ask anything else, please don't ask for details, I don't think I can say more without breaking, please, please, please... She looked at him for a moment, head tilted slightly, before she nodded.

          'Merlin's backing you up, so I guess I believe you; but, can't you just turn it off? I mean, Eggsy, avoiding a problem doesn't make it go away, you know? You've got to let him go; I don't like seeing you in pain.' She looks at him like one would look at a natural disaster from a distance- with pity and immeasurable sadness- and it takes everything in him not to scream. Can't you see I'm trying? But that wouldn't help anyone.

          'Dunno how to turn it off- not like Harry left instructions, we don't even know how it turned on. Or how it works, honestly. So I'm just working around it. We'll figure it out.' They're empty words, things he has no real intention of expanding on, but they placate Roxy into leaving. A mission can't be delayed for too long- they are, after all, usually matters of international importance- and he's incredibly glad to see her leave.           Roxy's an incredible mate, she is, but she had too much distance between herself and her emotions to really sympathise with him. Or maybe it was that Eggsy didn't have enough space between himself and his emotions. He was the one who was out of whack, not her. That made a fair bit more sense- she wasn't nearly as messed up as he was. It was probably just another defect of his.

          'Fuuuuuuuuuck.' Eggsy flopped backward onto the floor. He was messed up. He was living his life to the standard of a man who would never see the results. He was so set against actually working through his grief that he'd snapped at his mum and ran out on her.           (Though, honestly, it wasn't like she'd been all that sensitive in how she'd tried to tackle the issue, right? "Hey a guy you know came to tell me about how your dad died, also why are you crying about his dead mate over a year later?" is just not a tactful way to try to deal with an emotional situation. At least, he didn't think it was. Was it? He doubted a lot of things, at the moment)           He'd apologise, once he knew what to say. It wasn't like there was one of those self-help books "what to do when your mentor dies, you had to see the bullet come at you, and you may or may not have been in love with the idea of him" cos shit that would be a mouthful of a title. Probably wouldn't sell a lot of copies, neither, being so specific an' all.           'I fucked up... Mum def don't deserve that shit from me...' He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her- but he hadn't lied. He wouldn't lie to her like that- and, no (he told himself harshly) withholding the truth wasn't lying. She'd never asked if he'd known how his dad died, had she, so he hadn't lied to her. Not really. But that didn't excuse what he'd done- even if she was pushing a bit much. Honestly, he was a grown man with his own house and he could handle himself- had done for a long while now.

But was he actually handling himself?           He was living in the house of a dead man to keep alive yet somehow avoid his memory. He was avoiding the Hologram of said man, who had in fact spent the majority of their acquaintanceship (because, honestly, were they ever truly friends?) in a coma. A man he had barely known, but had nonetheless believed in him and seen something behind the grime that life in the estates had covered him in. Had seen someone worth something; not someone to rescue (at least, not solely) but someone to be given the tools to rescue himself. Someone to give a chance so that their overall success or failure couldn't be handed off to someone else; their results would be their own.           He'd never mourned Harry the way he deserved to be mourned, with laughter at his expense and drinks to his memory. He didn't have any stories. Oh, the drinks would be easy enough to procure, but drinking without a purpose and drinking to mourn were too close to the things his mum had done growing up; that was a road he did not want to walk down. He wasn't mourning Harry by living in this house, or by taking up his name, he wasn't honouring the memory of a dead man because... Eggsy didn't really believe he was dead. They hadn't ever been able to find his body, they'd buried an empty coffin, Merlin had basically taken over as Arthur, and Kingsman had moved on.           But Harry, the ghost of him or the live one whichever was the reality, wouldn't have wanted him to live like this. Wouldn't have wanted to see an Eggsy stagnated, operating on autopilot in the cenotaph of a man who (by his own measure) was undeserving of such sentiments.           'The fuck are you doing, Eggsy- pull yourself together,' Harry had looked at Eggsy and had seen potential and now Eggsy was squandering it by living in a past he was never actually a part of. Eggsy was still on the floor, flat on his back with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, hissing breaths through his teeth. Everything'd changed when he'd seen that Hologram what seems like a lifetime ago, but maybe- maybe it was stuff that needed changing.           It hurt, there weren't enough words in every language he'd heard of to describe the pain to think about this. Eggsy wanted to let go of Harry Hart about as much as he had wanted to leave the Marines. But, the needs of the many over the wants of the few (or one, in this case) and all that bullshit; he had a duty to Kingsman to be at his best, and this wasn't it.           Eggsy sat up slowly, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the few tears that had escaped, giving himself a few more moments to pull himself together. He made his way upstairs to the guest room, pulling open the drawer that contained his specs before going back downstairs empty handed. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next week but soon he was going to face at least one of the ghosts that haunted him.

[cwdcshows]

Crisis on Infinite Earths: Part One

Here we go folks.... "Champions from across the multiverse" sure seems to encompass only two earths.... Did they just cancel Titans in a 1-second cutaway?

(Obviously, I know they didn't just cancel Titans in a cutaway.  But that would be epic way for them to do it...)

Man, Wesley Crusher's pissed about not being invited to be on Picard.... Wait, this universe destroying wave is making it's way towards the edge of the universe, where it will bounce back and destroy everything; and the only thing in it's current path before reaching the edge of the universe is Argos City?? ....(sigh)....Yeah, alright.... This is what Argos City gets for using AT&T as it's primary carrier.... Oh no, not Earth-38's Superman!  How could they kill him forever and ever?? We'll never see him or Lois again.....😐 You know, when you have three consecutive shots all set on the same Earth, you don't have to do that thing where the number next to Earth scrolls through different permutations and lands on 1 each time.  You can just put the number 1 after the first time; most of the people watching this already know that in spite of the name "Crisis on Infinite Earth" that it's mostly just two that that are predominantly going to be involved here; with the odd appearance of a few others.... (Sigh)....fucking "legends".....  but also....mmmm... Caity Lotz.....😍 Oh, thank God they told me we were back in the DEO on Earth-38.  For a second I thought Alex was standing in my living room.  And if you're wondering if my living room looks anything like the DEO, the answer is, no, but without the title card, how could I be sure? So, not surprisingly, Lyla arrived on Argo City at the last minute and saved Clark and Lois (along with the other residents of Argos City, I'm sure.....😒) - but then both Lois and Clark took time go change clothes too? Don't worry Kara, I'm sure you'll see your mother later; or some version of her - her double is married to your cousin's doppelganger on another Earth; which isn't...weird at all..... Also, holy shit, it actually has been nearly 8 years since Smallville went off the air.  And I haven't even been tempted to re-watch that show, and I've re-watched a bunch of shows numerous times in that same period; Buffy, Angel, Stargate SG1, and am presently on re-watching Burn Notice.  But definitely not Smallville.  I mean, I'm sure it's fine, it's not like it hasn't aged poorly or any of the cast have gone to jail anything.... So Kate does know Kara and presumably Oliver and Barry... so when the fuck did she meet them?  They met her last year, but she wasn't active until this year and didn't even have the red hair until like, a month ago.  Did the reality wave also bump all of them to like, last week or something; and then they got sent back...?   🤷‍♂️      

Wait, where's Barry?  And why hasn't anyone else asked "Where's Barry?"  With all non-powered people involved, the absence of one of the few meta-heroes you know should pique some curiosity. Not to mention, the acknowledgement of Earth-2 being destroyed would have reasonably elicited a bigger response from someone, like Barry, who actually knew people on Earth-2.

Finally, Oliver asks about Barry, but that still seems like a question that should have been asked before the meeting began.  I care less about him asking where the "legends" are, because honestly.....do you want to fuck this up.....?

Yeah, I guess "quantum tower" sounds better than "dimensional tuning fork"....

Oh fuck you writers.  Fuck, fuck you.  So now you're going to tell us that the Star City in 2046 was never Star City's future; and that the Waverider just casually took you to a parallel universe and back again and nobody noticed?? Fuck you.

Has it really taken a season and a half for Mia to properly suit up and become a "Green Arrow"?  I must be losing it, because I....swear she worn a costume/uniform out in the field.

What part of "I temporarily had my memory partial wipe in order to protect Supergirl's identity" a long story?  I mean, sure, there's a lot more to that to dig into, but that's a pretty concise recap and salient point in the whole brouhaha over Kara keeping her identity from Lena.... But I guess when the skies turn red and the world starts quaking....

Augh.....You know Lena, fuck you and your pity party.  This woe is me crap is getting old fast; and the writers better fucking wise up and either have her snap out of it or completely crossover into the territory of irredeemable villain pretty fucking soon.  And if it's going to be the latter, don't dither by trying to dither by making her one of those "misguided" villains who just thinks they're the right and everyone else is wrong.  Go full tilt, fuck all bad guy wracking up the body count and pulling people's strings.

So apparently Oliver on Earth-16 had some work done, because for 2046, he doesn't look that much older than he does in the present day; and a lot younger than the last time the "legends" came here.

Well, retrieving Jonathan from Earth-16 seems to have been pointless....

Boy, Oliver and Kate sure love doing a lot of unnecessary gymnastics moves.  It's like they're to one up each other.   "Oh, you can do a spin followed by a somersault?  Well, I'm going to spin twice and roll forward into a handspring."

Brainy's had this huge fucking Legion ship this whole fucking time and it's never come up before now??

What is the point of Sara having this conversation with a version of Oliver who isn't the main, conventional version of Oliver?  Seems like this would be a more poignant moment between the "real" Oliver and Sara. And did if this is the Earth the "legends" came to in season 1, didn't Oliver meet her?  Did they go to an earlier point in 2046 than the "legends"? (and no, I will not stop putting "legends" in sarcastic quotation marks, or keeping the L in small caps.)

They've established that when Superman and Supergirl go "super flare" they're powerless for a full 24 hours.  And the one time Kara did it, it took a little longer than that - and that's when the skies were blue and the sun was shinning.  Since they fell out of the sky, are they powerless now?  

Oh, for fuck sake, are they going to make Kelly the new Guardian?  I guess it wouldn't be an Avengers rip-off without a so-called hero with a shield....

Well, I guess Superman and Supergirl aren't de-powered....

Seriously, the Monitor poofs all the other heroes away, whether they were ready to leave or not, but Oliver of all people gets to say 'no' and keep fighting?  Because of course he has a weapon to stun the Monitor. And he finally runs out of arrows.  About damn time. But why would he drop his bow?  He's used it before as a defensive weapon in it's own right.

Were they doing a legitimate evacuation of the entirety of Earth-38?  Because that's a tall fucking order....

Come on, how the fuck can Barry tell that this Wells is "Nash" and not one of the million other fucking Wells he's met over the last five and a half years? Augh.... between Wells/Pariah and Lyla/Harbinger, I really hope we don't have any more characters taking on the other comic identities.  I know Lyla is Harbinger from the Comics and the Lyla is even the comic book character's proper name, but the way they're introducing them in their new roles is just so fucking forced.  Especially when they've had weeks to get both of them there more naturally and squandered it. Especially Wells, I think.  They could have used someone like Harry from Earth-2, which would have had the benefit of more established character history, while also giving us a glimpse into the possible fates of some of the other Earth-2 characters we've met, who we can only otherwise assume died and aren't even being acknowledged.

You gotta love everyone's timing here; big climactic, literally world ending battle, a quest to retrieve a baby and whatever the fuck "Nash" has been up to and they're all popping in to the same place at the same time. And did Brainy or Sara coordinate with anyone about returning to Earth-1 instead of Earth-38?  You know, the Earth they originally left from?

Oh, no, Oliver has died.  And I'm sure he's never coming back.....  😐🙄

Not for nothing, I think it's worth noting, part way through this, I may have been scrolling through Facebook and commented on an article on a theatre page, where I criticized the content of the article and words were exchanged with the OP, who didn't like my criticism and tried to take a shot at my length of my post, rather than it's substance, by saying it was too long and they didn't read it - or, you know, "tld, dr;" because for some people, full sentences make them cry.  But it also made me laugh, because that post was legitimately not that long; and certainly had nothing on the crap I post on here....

At any rate, interesting episode.  I kind of feel like I need to watch it again, without constantly pausing it to type my comments, and let it sink in more.