#cause she’s tired of being everyone else’s tool and what’s the point of immortality if she isn’t gonna stick up for herself?

[olive-evilo]

Hopefully I’ll get Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines for Christmas/my Birthday because I’ve watched a let’s play of the game and it’s now consuming my mind completely. Like. Genuinely it’s making me crazy right now. I’ve revamped (hahah) an older oc of mine to be my fledgling for the game already and everything

Pictures of the oc in question! first two are older and the third is most recent :)

[qqueenofhades]

Top 3 things I loved about Deus Vult: 1. All the historical and cultural details and how neatly they tied into and elevated the story, without it feeling like heavy handed exposition or scoring points for accuracy. 2. How you showed how awful the crusades, and war in general, are, but without the sense of "hurr durr ye olden days were all terrible", but instead contrasting things like the time Yusuf spent with his mother, or their time together in Constantinople, versus what the crusades... 1/2

2/2... did to those places, and the people - the bit that really hit me was the introduction to Phil, and his propensity for screaming like he's never been fed in his life, and then seeing him lying in the street - that hurt bruh. 3. The whole idea, best exemplified in Nicky & Quynh's conversation that hundreds of years of pain and loss and heartbreak don't have to turn you into a grimdark (tm) angsty tool, but instead it's an endless series of chances to do the right thing... 

3/2 And even if that right thing isn't guiding humanity to this wonderful utopia, but just standing up for what is good and right, and speaking for them as has no voices. But yeah, whole thing was incredible and I really really loved it and thanks for writing it 

Ahaha, I did change the title slightly, to Deo Volente, as a commenter kindly reminded me that (because they ruin everything) white supremacists and the alt-right have co-opted the other version of the phrase for their Nazi crusades fantasia, and I obviously did not want any confusion or misunderstanding with that. “Deo volente” means the same thing in Latin, just a slightly different version of the phrase (”God willing” vs “God wills it.”) So yes, sigh. White supremacists: still the worst.

Anyway, I’m so happy that you enjoyed it so much, and this comment is delightful to me because it picks up on many of the things that I personally enjoyed about this fic (as I said, possibly the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written). I’ve had so many lovely comments on AO3 raving over the history, that either they knew some of it already or they’re learning so much of it, and as an early career academic who’s struggling with the job market and feeling useless that I currently can’t do professionally what I’m good at: really,you have NO IDEA how much it truly warms my heart to have people tell me that I’m teaching them something real and valuable (and in the course of gay historical romance enemies to lovers Feelings, which we all have to admit has to be a pretty painless way to do it?) Obviously, anybody who has spent two seconds on my blog knows that I have Strong Opinions on the “hurr durr ye olden days were all terrible” thing, and there was never any chance that was happening. Instead, I very much wanted to do exactly as you say: creating these moments of beauty and wonder and magic, showing how happy they were in places like Constantinople, and then what the crusades ultimately did to those beautiful things, and how it got turned and twisted into something so awful (and frankly, was pretty awful to start with). Obviously this is VERY relevant to what’s going on right now, and the entire “War on Terror,” and.... yes. It’s very relevant to the arc and themes of the whole story and especially post-9/11.

(And yes, Phil. That whole latter third of the chapter during the sacking of Constantinople, as noted, just gives me a lot of emotions. It’s fine.)

And I ended up LOVING Nicky and Quynh’s relationship (and hurting myself deeply as a result). Obviously we never see them together in canon, we just hear Nicky (and Joe) explaining what happened to her, and that whole conversation is deeply poignant in that we KNOW what’s going to happen to Quynh. She’s going to face an even worse kind of totally dehumanizing and insanity-causing experience, she’s going to be put in the position of whether to completely turn her back on everything she loved and swear herself to revenge, and her expressing that fear that she wouldn’t be strong enough to resist that temptation, that she might BECOME a monster, is... ouch. (Where is my sequel goddammit I need the Quynh Reunion and the feelings not just with Andy but Nicky and Joe /gnaws own arm off.) And obviously Nicky being the world’s biggest romantic as usual and talking about how he didn’t even consider giving into revenge long-term because Joe was there, and he always knew that was worth more. In other news, I hate them.

ALSO YES, the idea that you CAN take pain and it can make you kinder, that we all have a choice as to how to respond to all the bad things happening around us (even if not on the same scale/long-term view as the immortals). We’ve all learned that by how utterly much of a shitshow 2020 is for everyone, and I think a lot about the lesson that,  unlike every single Grimdark Fantasy (tm) and Macho Post Apocalyptic Fantasy Where Only The Strong Survive, we can become better even in the face of total darkness, and in fact, it’s the only way forward to any kind of future for anyone. The so-called “strong” are throwing fits over being forced to wear face masks in a pandemic and sitting on their hands while America descends into fascism, while in places like Portland, we have middle-aged mothers in bicycle helmets standing in a human chain to protect BLM protestors from the literal American Gestapo. So after Joe and Nicky try to fix everything permanently from on high with the Sixth Crusade, and then that doesn’t work, they have to reckon with the fact that like everyone else’s, their lives are going to be a series of choices, of small steps, of making things better where they can, and accepting that that will not be forever, rather than just doing it once and thinking that will work forever. They likewise can’t blame ordinary people for not living long enough to see the same things that they do, and they have to understand that they’ll see it crumble over and over, and still hold onto their goodness and desire to do the right thing, and.... yes.

They can’t just work with the kings and sultans and powerful people of the world and try to think that that’s the solution (as Nicky says during their conversation in Malta in chapter 5). They have to stand with the little people, the powerless, the people who aren’t going to get paid attention to in any of these wars, and do what they can, when they can, even in the face of total horror (as is the case with Joe in chapter 6). I really LOVE the movie (and love it more with every rewatch) for so totally demolishing the idea that a) superheroes can only Fix Big Things and b) that being kind even in the smallest and anonymous ways doesn’t ultimately matter. Because it DOES. We’ve all justifiably bagged on Marvel for totally giving into hollow CGI spectacle rather than any kind of authentic conflict that feels personal and constant manufactured conflict between the characters, and on GOT for “everyone is secretly awful and no good deed goes unpunished,” and I really, truly love the fact that the core message of The Old Guard is to do good for the most vulnerable among us, and that it DOES make a difference. Because there are so, so many of the usual tired tropes and cliches that they could have done, and they didn’t. It’s optimistic and hopeful and makes a statement about moral good without being saccharine; it doesn’t feel like we’re being force-fed some Disneyfied version of good and evil, but rather that the good can exist with, and ultimately overcome, even the worst evil. So that was a theme I also wanted to explore in the fic, with both the beauty and the pain, and obviously I also emotioned over that.

Just. Gah. Anyway. I had feelings about that story. Thanks for giving me a chance to talk about some of them.

[just-call-me-johnny-archive]

Johnny found himself at an all too familiar cliff; that was where he'd spent one too many nights peering over the edge. Years prior he had wondered if what awaited him after the plunge was better than he'd dreamt about that one night. He had learned since then that it wasn't a dream, and he supposed that's what kept him from taking his life as often back then. What was the point when he'd return?

After a few moments of staring out his windshield, Nny exited the car and ballooned an ice umbrella from his fingertips. The magic in his powers had worn off. Much like the magic in being immortal had worn off as well. Not the literal, supernatural magic that made these things possible. He was referring to the feeling of childlike wonder at being able to live forever and sprout snowflake from his hands.

He didn't have anyone in particular who was out to kill him. His only threat was the one he posed to himself. Even then, there wasn't any drive to harm himself- when he had urges he had to remember the people he'd leave behind if he went through with it.

Just three days were hell for survivors.

Really, his life was perfect now. He had family and friends. He had a job and a house that felt like home. He had someone who finally, truly loved him- who would never hurt him or leave him.

So why did he feel so empty?

He continued walking towards the edge of the cliff, untouched by the rain falling from the sky.

Was it because none of the money he made was actually hard-earned? He hacked for a living. This was... stolen. It was basically like using monopoly money to purchase everything and it- it felt fraudulent.

He felt fraudulent. He was a complete fraud.

What did he have? Who was he?

His husband was an artist- one of the best if not the best. He could create things and put them right onto the paper or tablet. His stories were comprehensive and could take someone away from reality. He was a fucking demigod- he had fire powers- he was beautiful. He was a creator- a god- in every sense of the word.

His brother was on his way to becoming a rock star. He got himself a record deal and was probably hard at work on his first album right this moment. He had a great singing voice that Nny could easily listen to for hours and never grow tired of. He had a future full of prosperity and excitement. He'd go on tours with his family and play to crowds of varying sizes.

His sister was a queen- an actual queen- royalty. She was a mother to many. When she wasn't showering everyone else around her with love and affection, she was kicking ass and being a leader of an entire planet. She had ice powers that were graceful and beautiful. Her motions were fluid; she was made to have the gift of ice and snow within her. On top of all that, she was a fucking doctor- and an incredible one at that. He couldn't imagine how many people she had helped in all her years of medical practice.

His son was the chancellor to a galactic alliance. He spent his days hard at work with relations, research, and recovery. He was the reason that so much good had come about since being put in a place of power. He was attempting to correct years of shitty leadership due to his false father.

His niece was the admiral of that same alliance. She was a natural engineer and skilled with a multitude of things. Much like her uncle, she was a jack of trades and could do about anything. Her combat skills were impressive. She was fiercely independent and capable of defending herself and her mates whenever they needed her. She was headstrong and in all ways a Phoenix.

He could go on about any number of his acquaintances and family.  

He was surrounded by greatness.

Yet, he was nothing.

He could feel the tickle in the back of his throat. The familiar near-sting in his nose. Nny had exhausted his tears. He was tired of crying all the time- of feeling sorry for himself- of being pathetic.

He glared into the ground until he felt the ice forming under him evaporate. He hadn't even realized his umbrella had already faded away and the rain was pelting his head.

"Lost in my head and I can't leave."

He continued his steady trek over to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the city below. "Watching the rain falling away, away from me."

He wrapped his coat closer to his body slowly and solemnly started to approach the guardrail. "Days grow cold as I grow old. Watching my life through a window."

The man climbed over the protective barrier and sat down on the cold, wet metal. "So I sit, watching the rain. And I can't leave."

Nny lifted a hand to weakly make a flurry shoot from his fingertips, but there wasn't any feeling in it and the black dust faded with the rain. "I want to feel something."

"I want to feel air that I can breathe." Nny looked skyward as he created two more, slightly more powerful gusts of black snow and ice.

He threw his hands down frustrated at being unable to think of something that was his. Something that didn't already exist- something unique. Not stupid wind wisps. "I'm tired of being nothing."

"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe." He frowned, thinking over his own incompetence. His own failures and shortcomings. His absolute worthlessness.

Did people look up to him? What was it they saw his as? Brave? And strong? He wasn't any of those things. What on Earth did anyone see in him?

He arose from his perch on the guardrail and steps back over it to safety. His thoughts were too blurry at the moment to trust himself on a literal ledge.

"It happened again; I freed myself from words never said."

Those words being that he was special. Or valuable. Or needed. Even if those very things were true and shown to him through other means. He was too deep in his own head at the moment.

"This road with no end and there's no help, ooh."

He stared out at the road behind his car- the one back to people who could easily make him realize his worth and show him how loved he was.

But really love was something different from true worth. He could be told he was adored and loved and cherished, but why?

God, those words echoed through his head since he was subjected to them. The condescending tone. The obvious entitlement in his voice. The confidence in knowing he was right and no one could tell him otherwise.

People are tools, Johnny...

We all use each other in one way or another. Comfort, sex, money, affluence... I just don't see the need to disguise it in words of "love."

He clapped his hands over his ears as if that would have stopped the noises and the thoughts and the chaos inside.

"Lost and lonely...Strangers know me better than I know myself." He caught a glimpse of himself in a puddle. He resented the person looking back at him. So anxious and cowardice. All talk and no action. A hypocrite.

"So I sit, watching the rain and here I'll stay."

"I want to feel something!"

He stomped into the puddle and a patchwork of blue-black ice spread out from under his boot. However, it was frail and shattered. He glared again.

Johnny whipped himself around and continued screaming out. More ice spread out and around him, jagged, uneven red ice sprouting in angry pieces.

"I want to feel air that I can breathe!"

He glared at the pathetic ice spikes, making more form because his emotions were so conflicted and confusing. The entire thing cracked and fell apart underneath him.

He breathed out realizing that he needed to calm just a little bit if he wanted to do this one DAMN THING RIGHT.

But of course, it didn't work.

"I'm tired of being nothing!"

With this, the ice gave a little more and from the spikes form something solid and recognizable and from that, something steadily arose from the broken ice.

"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe!!!"

Nny lifted his hand skyward- he made this new structure as high as he could handle. Around him the ice formed a solid ground, a patterned base is enough to make him feel just a tiny bit of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough. The thing falls again.

He continued to dance around, his hands worked hard to create something out of all his nothing. If he was his husband or his sister or hell even his daughter, then he would have done a better job creativity wise. He didn't have a single artistic cell in his body. That had been stolen from him.

"All we are is guilty hearts in a sea of memories," he paced and rubbed his shoulders in a mockery of self-comforting.

"Time goes by and people cry, but I don't feel anything."

He was powerless in everything. He wanted to be helpful. To somehow use his powers- his immortality for good. To contribute rather than stay at the sidelines- oblivious to the plight that so many others were subjected to. In a way, he felt almost responsible for any catastrophe. He always felt there was something he could have done different- to help. But no, he was a waste.

He repeated this again and grew more angry and emotional- contrary to his words. Slowly around him, the base started to rise with new structures that were waiting to be built up.

Nny ran to them with his palms up, fingers clenched as if he was physically lifting the ice up and molding it.

"I want to feel something!!!"

He jumped around, shooting magic here and there as he started to make something that seemed meaningful. Not just an imitation of a rose or some other functional device.

He spun in a slow circle as a covering of glass spread around him. Walls of decorative ice melded together as he smiled hopefully.

Maybe he finally had a breakthrough.

"I want to feel air that I can breathe!!!"

The things around him continued to grow and mount. How exciting! His own creations! His own little place! His work!

"I'm tired of being nothing!!!"

He jumped onto a growing tree-like structure holding onto a branch with one fist, blinded by the influx of power and confidence. The entire thing glowed brightly with purple- his happy color.

"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"

He lept off the branch as it grew and onto the bottom of a slope that was steadily being created from under him.

His smile was fit to burst as he raised his arms to shoulder level, his heart practically singing from the feeling of making and doing and being!

"I wanna feel something!!"

He saw a blue moon slowly come to light ahead and he was so amazed! He made that?!

He laughed and continued his climb upwards, practically running with joy.

"I wanna feel air that I can breathe!!!"

And for those moments he does! He felt his own air graze his cheeks as he continued to ascend to the highest peaks. He forgot this feeling ever existed. Of seeing something you worked so hard finally being revealed.

"I'm tired of being nothing!!!!"

And he was finally done with it! He wasn't 'nothing' anymore! His existence wasn't a stray mark on a masterpiece! He was the author of his own story! He was in control! His arm physically reaches out in front of him- a gust of ice and snow blowing in front of him.

"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"

His stomach dropped when he realized he had reached the top and- it was just a roof. It was... a roof like any of the other houses down there. Nothing spectacular. And his outstretched hand touched nothing but glass. What?

He looked around. Down at the three different sized trees. A snowman sat somewhere between that and the... house. All of the snow was settled at the bottom. Above and around him was nothing but glass.

A snowglobe. He made a fucking snowglobe.

"... Make believe."

His smile dropped steadily and his hand curled into his chest as he wrapped his coat tighter around him and dropped onto the roof, looking up at the moon with a pained expression.

He would have cried, but he was too exhausted. He just tucked his knees to his chest and buried his face in the sleeves of his jacket.

He tried to calm himself before he would return to the nameless city.

Where in a world of aliens, inventors, and creators he was nothing but make believe.