#dastardly discussions

[villainous-queen]

Mad Sweany calls Laura "dead wife" because calling her "Laura" is too personal and he doesn't want to get personal with her but calling her "Laura Moon" reminds him that she's "Shadow Moon's wife". Also by calling her "dead wife" he is constantly reminding himself that he is the one who killed her and he feels like he deserves that guilt.

[historyartthings]

the first trailer for book one of CJ Sansom’s ‘shardlake’ series (Dissolution) is out and…

Is it just me or is this marketed as if it’s an action thriller? Down to the editing, the music, the fonts used. Which is frankly bizarre since it’s supposed to be a murder mystery. It’s set almost entirely in a monastery! It’s not a big sprawling epic…

[ofgentleresolve]

Post it note (Mana to Jay!!)

post it notes are valid and perfect ( post-it notes prompt w/ anon aka @thegreenswillcome )

send “ POST - IT NOTE ” for what my muse would leave yours in a post - it note message !

"Lover Boy,

If you have enough time bum around here, you should start this one- should keep you busy for the next few weeks.

-Mana”

( Left on Mana's desk in library on top of a heavy tome. )

[critterbitter]

I'm wheezing over Ingo and Litwick's dynamic jgjbjjxjsjwkfiisiq and TYNAMO FITTING INTO EMMET'S SCARF IS SOOO CUTE!! Love how you draw the little sbubby bois, their conductor themed outfits are soo freaking cute!!!

I have so many thoughts when it comes to them it’s insane. Glad you like the characterizations!

Here’s a quick one shot under the cut, as a treat for making it this far.

Emmet finds Tynamo three months before Ingo meets Litwick. Ingo has some thoughts.

Ingo and Emmet are part of a pair.

If Emmet is the fuck around and find out, then Ingo’s been relegated amused damage control. This has always been the case, right up until Emmet found tynamo. Then suddenly, it’s “wow emmet, you’re so responsible!” “Golly gee Emmet, what do you mean you don’t want to go exploring the cave systems after dark?” “Gee whizz, what do you mean curfew for your eel puppy?” “Why in Reshiram do you get to have a whole pokemon three months before we agreed to get starters, and i don’t?”

Ingo doesn’t say the last part. He’s a bitter world-weary twelve year old languishing about the unfairness of the pokestray distribution system, but he also loves his brother. Emmet found an injured tynamo in chargestone cave and decided to help— tynamo decided to stay. It’s every child’s film plot. Ingo being a grouchy gengar makes him objectively a terrible friend.

Oh dragons, is Ingo a bad brother?

“Ingo!”

Speak of the cold, and he shall enter. Ingo swings his whole body around to better brace for the flying tackle.

“Emmet!”

“I am emmet! You are sulking.”

Ingo clicks his mouth closed and tries not to sulk harder. He fails.

“You are not being verrrry convincing, brother dearest.”

“I do not have any idea what you are going on about,” Ingo’s traitorous mouth blurts. “Be convinced I love you and am not planning dastardly plots.”

Do not think about getting a ground typed starter. Do not think about getting a ground typed starter.

Emmet shoots him a judgemental look from under the brim of his hat. Ingo glowers back, and slowly starts leaning forward, smooshing Emmet under his weight.

“Ttttell me why you look like a crushed joltik.”

“Keep this up and you are going to be the crushed joltik.”

Anyways, Emmet is becoming more bold by the day and even actively discussing electric types with the new girl in elementary prep, Elesa. Ingo thinks she’s cool, but she flinched when he blurted a once again too loud greeting so he’s… letting that cool off. They definitely don’t have anything to talk about beyond pokemon, and Emmet and her already have pokemon. Ingo feels a bit left out.

Caught in the ennui of not having a blitzle or tynamo, Ingo slips as Emmet rolls out from under him. The two go down in an ungraceful tangle of limbs.

“Tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.” Emmet gently slaps Ingo’s face like a ripe oran berry. “You want to tell me sooo badly. Ooh.”

“Emmet- aurgh. Gerroff’”

“I don’t speak denial.”

Ingo gives up. His entire body deflates. Emmet, not expecting the sudden loss of spinal infrastructure, slides sideways and knees Ingo’s lungs.

Ingo wheezes. “I’m sulking because you were crushing my spine.”

“Tell me the truth.”

Uh oh. Ingo studies Emmet’s face. It’s the same one he looks into the mirror with, but marred with concern and self consciousness. Ingo made Emmet worry. He’s not just a bad twin. He’s the worst.

“You are Emmet.”

“I am Emmet.”

“You have Tynamo.”

“Tynamo’s charging at home.”

Smart ass! Emmet knows what Ingo means. And by Emmet’s smug grin, Emmet knows too.

Ingo struggles to explain that Emmet has Tynamo, and Elesa, and… that’s only two other individuals. He is truly the worst twin in all the land. Emmet gets two new friends and Ingo’s being an infant about it.

One day, Ingo will have his own pokemon partner and team— but right now, Ingo only gets to have Emmet.

Ingo feels this is an unfair trade equivalent, but he does not want to say it in a way that sounds rude, so he stalls.

Emmet has no such prefunctures. He squints at Ingo, who avoids eye contact and squirms. “You are… jealous?” He tilts his head in visible confusion. “What?”

Ingo covers his face with his hands, defeated.

“You arrrre jealous!” Emmet cries, bewildered. “Why??”

Ingo lets out an unintelligible wheeze. Emmet remembers he still has a knee on Ingo’s chest, and hastily sits back.

“I don’t want to be jealous,” Ingo finally bursts. “I am very happy for you Emmet! You and Tynamo are a winning combination!” His voice cracks embarrassingly. Emmet doesn’t flinch at the volume, even muffled under Ingo’s palms. “I don’t want to be a bad brother being jealous.”

“You aren’t a bad brother, Ingo.”

“I am. I am angry that you found your starter and I haven’t. I’m sad I interrupted your schedule with my inane demands. I have made you feel like you did something wrong. I apologize.”

Peeking between Ingo’s fingers, Emmet’s face falls. Ingo wants to be struck by a giga impact rather than face this. He would rather be a dusty imprint. Where is Uncle Drayden’s Haxorous when you need her?

“Ingo, Ingo listen to me.” Emmet’s hands dart forward to settle Ingo’s shoulders. The pressure is grounding. Real. This is where Emmet tells Ingo he’s being stupid.

He hears Emmet exhale.

“I’m sorry.”

Wait, that doesn’t sound right. “Pardon?”

“I wanted to train Tynamo as my conductor, and I left our two-car train unmaintained.”

“Pardon??”

Emmet looks uncomfortable and sad. It makes Ingo uncomfortable and sad. “Yesterday night. When you wanted to go to the caves. For our weekly charting. I said I’d rather help Tynamo.”

Oh. Yeah, Ingo remembers that. It had stung. “You are not obligated to say yes,” he protests. “In fact, you should say no more. You always say yes.”

“Yes.”

“What did I just say.”

“No. You’re my brother. I left you out.”

Ingo slowly puts down his hands. His face still feels warm, but he feels less scared. Now he just feels embarrassed. He can’t help but let out a meek plea slip. “Don’t go where I can’t follow, Emmet. Please.”

“I would never! We are going on our pokemon journey together, yep yep. You, me, tynamo, and whoever your starter will be!”

The two sit there on the side of the dirt road. Emmet’s declaration sounds like a dangerous promise. Ingo realizes at that moment he would do anything for his brother, who’s his best friend and confidant and world, starter or no starter. He opens his mouth to tell Emmet that.

“Wwwwwait. You are trying to go back to the caves. Ingo! Are you trying to find a starter by yourself!?”

Never mind. Emmet’s gone for his soft underbelly, and Ingo’s in pain. “Emphasis on trying,” he mutters instead. The joltik are not interested in him. The local tynamo swarm fled. A curious drilbur had sniffed him once, turned up its nose, and then trundled into the wall.

“…ah.”

Nothing had felt right for Ingo— too scared, too judgemental, or too uninterested. He’s starting to accept that maybe none of the pokemon in this town area match his truth or ideals.

Emmet was quiet for a long time. He had his thinking face on, so Ingo did not interrupt. He took the time instead to look up at the sky, watching the giant puff of clouds drift by. A plume of swabloo lazily inches their way across the horizon.

A shadow falls over Ingo. Emmet dusts himself off, and helps drag his twin to his feet. The two sway, clasping hands.

“We’ll ask Uncle Drayden,” Emmet decides, and Ingo is enthralled by the sheer truth of that statement. “He’ll let us use the subway! And you can look elsewhere, for a starter who is ideal for you. Wwwwith me and Tynamo, instead of by yourself.”

“Truly?” Uncle Drayden is a scary man.

Emmet nods. It’s easy to talk to Emmet— he just says words that Ingo would spend hours ruminating on. “I am verrrry persuasive.”

“You mean staring at him from the corner until he cracks?”

“Brother, you know me so well!”

Ingo cant help but laugh. He still feels guilty and bad for feeling envious, but a world with emmet by his side is significantly less hostile. Emmet’s hand is warm in his.“Thank you!” He cheers, startling himself with his volume. “Bravo,” he tried in a quieter tone.

“Bravo!!” Emmet replies, pointedly louder. Ingo squawks as Emmet pulls him off balance. “You are my brother! We’re going to find you a starter!”

Ingo tugs back just as fiercely. “Bravo!! We are going to harass Uncle Drayden into letting us board the train!”

Emmet leans with his whole body, dragging Ingo into the fulcrum of his centrifuge. “BRAVO! YOU ARE GOING TO HELP ME WITH TYNAMO’S TRAINING!”

Ingo digs his heels in, and then stumbles. “BRAVO, I, what?”

Emmet looked distinctly patrat-esque. “We’re in this together, Ingo. No backing out now.”

Ingo thought about it long and hard. He gets to see his brother get electrocuted. But he will, also, most likely, get electrocuted.

(Tynamo is Emmet’s starter. But maybe, it can also be Ingo’s friend.)

But brother say brother do, and Ingo’s probably obligated to run damage control if Emmet decides to, say, shove a fork into an outlet for Tynamo to snack on.

(Emmet fucks around. Ingo finds out. Even two steps apart with new people between, this is the way of their world.)

“Alright,” he crumbles. When they step this time, they step in sync. “We do this. Together.” (Enjoy this? Here's the link to the rest of my rat crimes.)

[scrivenger-grimgar]

au of an au for mdzs where canon plays out exactly as it was supposed to except

wwx became a calamity after dying and cared for his coven of ghosts in yiling before mxy summoned him for revenge.

he still elopes with lwj after solving the corpse question

supreme ghosts have a similar ability to gods taking deputies, except since they're not sharing immortality they can have a lot more of them

wwx's "deputies" are (in order) jiang cheng, the wen remnants, luo qingyang, nie huaisang, mo xuanyu, jin ling, lan jingyi, ouyang zhizhen, lan sizhui, and lan wangji.

being a calamity's "deputy" means that you are soul bonded to them, with a kind of preternatural sense of the wellbeing of the entire coven.

one of the heavenly officials decides to fuck around with time, and only other heavenly officials were supposed to remember, except extremely strong ghosts and their covens also remember because there are TWO gods married to calamities, and calamities are weirdly cooperative with each other (hc, hx, wwx, & gL discuss trade agreements over tea and artistic process over alcohol).

thus like 75 people are now in the past.

wwx's child body cant stand the power his soul has and just kinda crumbles under the weight. thats mostly fine tho cause he can shapeshift.

of course he immediately comes up with a dastardly plan to inflict as much chaos onto the sects as possible while also protecting his loved ones at the same time. he gets in contact with the wen remnants (bigger and there's more of them) and slowly moves them over to yiling while he builds places for them to live on the mountain, and then offers the people of yiling a very good deal:

"we'll deal with all your ghost problems for free, and in exchange we get discounts on food, and you tell everyone who comes asking that the Yiling Wei sect has been here the entire time."

its almost too easy to set up, too. they forge some trade agreements and other documents to place in the other sects' files, waiting to be found, with ease, bc he knows what the filing for the jiang, lan, wen, and nie looks like, and part of the story is that the jin offended them so badly that they just stopped doing business with them altogether and also tend to actively hate them with few exceptions.

meanwhile, huaisang, qingyang, and wangji will reference the Yiling Wei and act like this is something everyone knows about, and jiang cheng catches on and starts doing the same.

wwx's plan is to drive them all insane by appearing out of nowhere and acting like he's been there the entire time. make them question reality.

wen popo, at a discussion conference: i'll be standing in for my grandson so he can participate in the games

jiang fengmian, initiating polite conversation: your grandson? what happened to your son?

wen popo, internally cackling: fengmian! are you so quick to discard changze like this?! for shame!!

jiang fengmian, who has never met this lady: what

wen popo: you know i trusted him when he said he wanted to stand by his sworn brother's side but if this is how you treat his memory after he was so unwaveringly loyal to you, only ever leaving for Cangse, the love of his life, then i'll have to have you stricken from the legacy registry!

wen popo, with unfaltering confidence: good evening wen-zhongzhu

wen ruohan, who has incurable face blindness: well met Wei-zhongzhu (do i know her???)

nie mingjue is the only one who's taking any of this well and thats solely because his brother has been spoon feeding him Yiling Wei propaganda for 13 years. lan xichen has a crisis because his baby brother eloped with a clan leader he met thrice and they're having a spring wedding.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

It's Enough, It's Enough - chapter four

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Chapter: 4 / 6

Summary: Five times Jane and Guildford pretend to have sex, and one time it’s for real.

read on tumblr: one | two | three

Seymour is such a dastardly prick that Guildford has felt no compunction about hating him, even before his attempted ambush at the stables. He doesn’t like that man being around his wife. Not that Jane will remain his wife. That’s not the important bit. Mainly, Guildford does not trust Seymour. The upside of having frequented the taverns wherein he built his overblown reputation for rakishness and revelry is that Guildford knows how to spot the bad sort. And Seymour is a supreme rotter.

The trick with that sort of man, Guildford knows, is not to attempt to outfox him at his own game—it’s to leave off with political maneuvering and just pick his fucking pockets. Clean and simple. Thankfully, Seymour has a certain penchant for heavy cloaks and flapping robes. These are garments that hang and bulk away from the body, making him an unusually easy mark for Guildford’s quick hands and darting reach.

Jane has told him about locked chests and boxes, so Guildford’s hoping to pluck a key from Seymour’s pocket. Because it might be quite a small one, he gives this search several attempts, putting himself in repeated close contact with the foul man. It’s tedious. It’s worse than tedious: Seymour is a slippery git, the mere sight of whom at the opposite end of a corridor is enough to make Guildford’s teeth grind together. Nevertheless, he makes his attempts, knowing Jane would do as much for him.

Jane doesn’t know, by the way. He decided before he began that she wouldn’t know unless he was successful. Best not to have her worry needlessly.

Eventually, Guildford’s fingers close around something, but it isn’t metal, it’s paper. He can’t wait to read it, stealing into an alcove and unfolding the page right then. Unfortunately, slippery Seymour’s written the damn thing in code (of course he fucking has, the shithead). Fortunately, it’s a code Guildford recognizes.

He looks for an opportunity to reveal his discovery to Jane that night, but there’s never sufficient privacy and it begins to grow late. Though they can’t discuss this, she’s become his favourite person to spend time with, so he stays with her anyway, watching her work, watching her with her sisters. He tries not to think about the family they could have been, if she meant for this to last. Eventually, all the others have gone to bed and there’s just her and him, sitting opposite one another by the fire. He thinks an even more dangerous thought: that it is so very tempting to stay. Jane is tired and kind enough to swear she isn’t tired at all, that she can talk, that he should keep his seat. Guildford is seduced by the fact of her being his wife, of the scene they make, looking so utterly regular and not like a queen and her horse consort. A normal husband could fall asleep here. He wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen if he failed to wake and creep outside before the dawn. A normal husband could watch his wife drop off to sleep in his arms, not on the other side of the table between them. He could watch her eyes open the following morning with sunlight streaming across the bed they share, feel her first stirrings in the human arms that held her fast through the night.

It's pointless dreaming.

“Go to bed,” he urges with a smile, and stands to take his leave.

For now, he stows the stolen note in the stables.

—

There’s time the next night—time to sit with Jane and explain about the cipher wheel and how he stayed up translating Seymour’s paper. The contents don’t exactly provide incriminating evidence about what happened to King Edward, but they are proof of revoltingly close ties between Seymour and Princess Mary. Guildford attempts to gloss over this in summary, focusing on what they might yet gain if they can get their hands on more of the correspondence, but Jane is keen to know everything he knows. She snatches the letter straight from his hand. As its original pickpocketer, Guildford has to admire the shortcut.

“When I stand before you in my father’s fur-trimmed robe, the same robe depicted in the portrait which stands sentinel over all our erotic acts,” Jane reads, only to interrupt herself with a noise of disgust. “Mary wears King Henry’s clothes while she and Seymour…? Ugh.”

“I know,” Guildford agrees. “Vile.”

But the words, with which he is already familiar, didn’t unsettle him on paper nearly as much as they do coming out of Jane’s mouth. He knows everything the note contains. Will she read all of it? His hands clench into anxious fists, wanting her to stop, needing her to go on.

“The kiss of its lining on my skin is as sweet to me as your voice in the throes of passion, when I know you will exclaim, ‘Mercy, good lady!’ to no avail as I spank your cheeks crimson with gauntlets of war.” Jane laughs and glances at him. “No wonder Seymour thought us tame.”

He has no chance to respond before she continues on to the part which he most fears and craves to her to speak aloud.

“When you can hardly stand, I will make you lie beneath me while I t-take”—Jane stumbles, but her pride (he assumes) prevents her from quitting in the middle of a sentence—“my pleasure.”

It’s clear she won’t read any further. She’s flushed red, and, yes, Guildford hates Seymour (hates Mary too, though that would be treasonous to say), but he’s perversely grateful for the filthy correspondence. If he forgets about that pair of lunatics and concentrates on Jane’s soft voice, it’s much harder to laugh. Hearing Jane say she would make him lie beneath her while she took her pleasure isn’t funny in the slightest. It’s all too evocative.

But he shouldn’t say it, so he won’t.

What Guildford does say is, “There will be more letters.”

“Undoubtedly,” Jane says, folding that one up. “Which means we get to discover if Seymour is equally verbose.”

“Hopefully about more relevant matters.”

“Yes.” As Jane looks away, he sees her blush deepen.

—

Later the same night, they shut themselves in the room with the chest. Though that item is still locked up tight, the room is filled with stacks of documents and other, smaller chests and boxes—plenty for them to rifle through, making sure nothing is overlooked. A weasel like Seymour has his hiding places, but Guildford wouldn’t put it past the man to also be so arrogant, so confident in his success, as to leave something important out in the open, certain it would go undetected by the eyes of the less cunning.

It really is very late. Guildford assumes Jane would usually be asleep by now. And him? He would be lying in his bed in the stables, most likely not sleeping but trying to, kept awake by the memory of how her hair smelled. He thinks about that night—the night when she sat astride him and put on a very convincing show for their peeping parents—more than he should. Most likely, it will ruin him when she leaves. It’s not the money. It’s never been the money. What Guildford expects to miss is how close they came.

God, that’s enough. He feels pathetic mourning her in this way. She isn’t dead. His heart should know the bloody difference.

He busies himself with the task at hand, as does Jane. Beginning side by side at its head, they circle the table, inspecting both sides of every page their determined hands encounter. In Guildford's opinion, the place is rather a sty—and if anyone should know, it's the man who sleeps in the stables. It takes effort to put everything back as sloppily as they find it, making it all look undisturbed. They check the chairs and floor as well, in case anything might have dropped. Now and then, they glance at one another to wordlessly inquire about progress, but mostly, there is just the sound of pages rustling, leather folios slapping open and shut, and the two of them breathing.

Having assumed most of the palace would be asleep, they're alarmed by footsteps in the corridor outside. Guildford rushes to meet Jane at the table's far end; there's no point hiding in such a small room, so it's better to be facing the door if anyone comes through it. But how will they explain their presence?

"The candle," he says, and Jane leans far forward to extinguish the flame they lit at the table's center.

With a quick gust of breath, it goes out. They're plunged into a darkness that doesn't last, their eyes adjusting to the cold radiance of moonlight pouring through the window. Jane straightens up, her back brushing her chest. In the dark, Guildford rests a steadying hand on her shoulder. She places her fingers over his. Then, they try to not even breathe, praying the steps will pass them by.

No such luck.

The door isn't locked, but it's sturdy and hanging on slanted hinges. These conditions cause it to make crooked contact with the floor instead of being suspended slightly above, allowing the door to be wedged shut if some force is applied. Guildford applied that force cautiously, working slowly so as not to make a racket, and whoever is on the other side of that door now does the same. The slow scrape is chilling.

"Guildford," Jane whispers urgently.

They have seconds.

It takes less than one of them for Guildford to choose a tactic.

"Trust me," he commands instead of asking, then puts a hand on Jane's lower back and presses her forward until she's bent over the table once again.

Not only does she not protest, she hefts her skirts in her arms. He helps her to expose the back of her chemise, though that won't be visible to the intruder around her gathered skirts. Hastily, Guildford unbuttons his leather breeches and tugs them partway down his thighs. With Jane canted over the table and his hips shoved quickly forward, his body curved over his wife's, a couple who selected a rather odd place for a tryst should be all they appear to—

"Princess Mary!" Jane gasps.

Holding her own candlestick high to throw light into the chamber, Mary looks about as surprised to see the two of them as they are to see her. Guildford anticipated her paramour. He would never have thought a woman known to be prone to nasty, rodential smiles in public and bitter fits when she believes herself out of earshot would be capable of such subtle entry. She makes Guildford's skin crawl, and he shudders behind Jane.

"My apologies... Your Majesty," Mary spits, baldly reluctant to use Jane's title and chokingly insincere. Her gaze darts to the chest and she appears relieved to find it shut. Her eyes also sweep the table, but it is impossible for her to make a thorough catalogue. Nor can she accuse them aloud. By rights, these pages belong to Jane, this room to Jane, this entire palace to Jane, as Mary is but a guest of the Queen. As much as a spider is a guest in a pitcher of milk, or a flea a guest in the seam of a jacket.

Jane stands with dignity (he mimes a fleet withdrawing and yanks up his breeches), but does not move away from Guildford. Instead, she takes him by the hand. He feels himself strengthened by their united front. They face this woman who, whether or not she acted against King Edward, almost certainly wants the new monarch dead, that she might reign herself. Jane is most vulnerable, yet she maintains her position between Guildford and the threat.

"What business brings you here?" Jane questions.

Mary's gaze moves lazily from her cousin to Guildford.

"A sickening feeling," she says, "that something was amiss."

"The only thing amiss is your presence. You see my husband and I want privacy. Leave us."

Mary's look as she inclines her head in deference is venomous, but she does as ordered and departs. There is no other reasonable action for her to take. No doubt driven by spite, she leave the door ajar. While Jane sighs in shaky relief, Guildford crosses the room to put his shoulder to the door, jamming it back into place.

"Did you mark how she looked at the chest?" Guildford checks, turning to face Jane again. "She appeared only perfunctorily interested in the visible papers, but Seymour might not have—"

The remainder of his speech is lost to the abrupt pressure of his wife's mouth on his. The way she gives her weight to him to catch and hold says she is kissing him in sheer relief. Another narrow escape.

Though that might be her feeling, Guildford's side of the kiss is infused with excitement about witnessing his wife exercise her authority over her detestable cousin. In his arms, Jane's relief in thwarting Mary feels enough like giving in to the simmering thing between them that he meets her mouth ravenously. She lets him. She accepts him. After scant moments, she equals his fervour. When Jane moans into his mouth, Guildford catches her jaw between his finger and thumb, enforcing her stillness so he might kiss her soundly. Deep and unhurried. Jane's legs seem almost to melt beneath her, but her arms hold him tightly, her fingers twisting into his hair.

Guildford wrenches his face back. Through tingling lips, he pants, "Jane. Jane, you said we would not..."

"We won't," she swears. "We're not."

But he sees her kiss-plumped lips and soft, persuasive gaze, and he knows this will not be one of the times they can end this easily. There's a difference, he thinks when their lips seal together again, between being helpless and not wanting to be helped. He isn't helpless to stop Jane, but he's tired—oh-so-tired—of being her conscience. Why should he continually advise her away from doing what at least part of her (and all of him) is dying to give in to? He's no adviser, he's her consort, ergo he'd prefer they did more consorting. Particularly in the middle of the night like this, drunk on triumph.

He fills his hands with Jane's skirts for the second time that night, though the first time in passion instead of pretense, and backs her towards the long table. When they reach it, Guildford lifts her onto the edge, encouraging Jane's legs apart to let him stand between them. She sighs, running a hand down his neck. His manhood is swollen to readiness as he presses his hips to hers.

That's when she murmurs, "Should we stop?"

"Do you want to stop?" Guildford counters, not to persuade her but to entreat Jane to be honest with herself. He releases his hold on her legs and grips the table edge.

But perhaps his rational wife isn't ready to trust her instincts. He won't attempt to convince her; he doesn't want to win her that way. After everything, he's surprised to discover that he cares how she sees him, and that he wants her to see him as a good choice. Guildford recognizes this might be unrealistic, since he wasn't any kind of choice for her, their marriage arranged by a pair of opportunists. When Jane is ready—when she allows herself to be—he doesn't want to look at her and read in her face that she came to him after suppressing her better judgement. He won't be the devil in her ear. She's thrown enough names at him: vagabond, brigand, knave, rake (repeatedly rake). He couldn't care less if that's what others think of him, but he wants to be sure Jane knows better.

"No," she says, then admits, "Yes," with a regretful wince, as he thought she would.

"It's alright," he tells her. He steps back to give her room to stand.

"You understand?"

Guildford chuckles. "I didn't say that, but until you do, it's alright."

"What don't I understand?" Jane asks defensively.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I trust you to tell me when you figure it out."

She looks as though she's deciding whether to find this insulting. Guildford returns her look levelly. Finally, Jane elects to let the comment pass. They've been doing more of this, he's noticed: lengthening one another's tether. Bickering less, or at least more strategically. Accepting that, every so often, the other person might have a point. It's softened the sharp edges they seemed to have at the start, when every cut was interpreted as intentional. The bite is something different now, something that makes him want to get closer instead of drawing back.

Guildford lets them out of the room, then escorts Jane to her bedchamber. He longs to linger in the doorway, casting suggestive looks into the room, but he finds his restraint. The task is monumental enough to deserve a special honour bestowed by the Queen. Maybe he'll tell her someday. Maybe he'll pretend to remember overcoming his desire to bed his wife as the greatest challenge of this stage of his life. He'll wave aside her recollections of Mary and Seymour and assassins in the woods and division in the kingdom, and say, Yes, but recall how I suffered before you deigned to want me back? She'll argue, of course (because they'll still be arguing then), not that he didn't suffer, but that she always wanted him, even when he didn't believe it.

He studies her for a final few seconds to see if this might be true before realizing it's no more fair for him to make assumptions about Jane in the future than for her to make assumptions about him in the present. He won't then. He'll only hope that she is there.

[desire-mona]

things abt dps i feel like we dont address enough (photos attached will be shit quality, i took screenshots from yt clips LMAO)

heavily ib @pencileraser1's post abt stuff he noticed n such

the fucking KIDS at welton. the CHILDREN. maybe its just me but i always find myself forgetting that welton isnt a highschool + there are in fact a lot more students than the ones we're focusing on. thats what makes welton so like. evil? to me? they start pushing these kids into a box EARLY.

related, i wouldve LOVED to see how(/if?) keating taught these kids, or rly any other class! he has other classes!!! i think!

ok. of course. neil is a smoker, we've touched on that. but charlie is too?? and he's the one who provides the cigs???? obviously the easy explanation is that he does it to be rebellious and stuff but also Is There Something Else. much to think abt. also wondering where he gets his cigs but thats not rly anything i dont think.

this ones just funny but when mr perry tells the boys they can take a seat and todd simply does not. i KNOW he wasnt sitting before and he needs to unpack and stuff but ITS STILL FUNNY.

"take your seats boys"

"🧍"

also my guilty pleasure is the dps but its todd being anxious video bc man usually crack videos arent my jam but unfortunately i find it so funny

also!!! neil calling his dad sir. obviously its something so glaringly obvious that we dont need to have a discussion abt how theres a disconnect between them. like wow rly thanks mona i didnt know. but come on!!! it makes me sad!!! also they shake hands later in this scene and its the most affectionate/ friendly we see these two get. and its a handshake. and i think what makes it worse is that neil is a SUPER physically affectionate person with his friends. if u watch the movie and pay attention to how often he's touching someone else then ur gonna be like man. he rly was jumping at every opportunity huh.

something about the way neil and the boys act around mr perry makes me view him as more of a drill sargent than anything. everyone immediately stands upon him entering the room. they dont sit until given permission. it rly puts the whole military school thing into perspective but NOT ENOUGH TO SATISFY ME. as much as i hate mr perry, i wanna know what his life was like growing up. this man lived thru the great depression AND wwii, theres stories.

cam's stupid fucking face when keatings behind him larping ghosts. i will never stop talking about how sassy this kid is. the dps redheads go criminally unacknowledged in terms of comedy because OH MY GOD. CAM AND MEEKS WERE SO FUCKING FUNNY??? they both pulled the most dastardly judgemental looks and they make me cackle. a bit earlier in this scene meeks goes full 🙄🤨 on sniffles (tissue kid. i call him sniffles) and it is, without exaggeration, my fav part of the movie.

the fact that i totally thought knox was gonna fall off his bike and eat shit in this scene. it would be so out of place since dps isn't exactly full of physical comedy but GOD i still fully anticipated it. either that or him getting attacked by a bird. theres totally symbolism surrounding birds in this movie btw and idk what to make of it. if any of u lovely ppl have a theory then lmk immediately.

keating so accurately calling cam out being like "is this right is this right. am i walking right." BC YESSS. i will eventually make a fully fledged cam post but to briefly touch on it, i find cam to be very confused on what is right, usually in terms of morals. a whole situation of confusing your personal values with the rules, thinking theyre one in the same, and completely abandoning what u actually believe. unfortunately i think neils death rly amplified that nd is what led him to tattle. cuz cam is still willing to break the rules in the beginning of the movie!! he's outwardly judgemental but he still does it!! much to discuss, i promise i will eventually.

keatings face after todd yawps!!! theres not much to say here he is just so proud!!! sweet little moment!!!! keatpostin!!!!!!!!

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

u guys know im an avid knox hater but this made me giggle. rip knox overstreet u wouldve loved twitch streaming.

THE SPECIFICS OF THIS SHOT. i was gonna make a post a while ago being like "idk i find it funny that the main focus of this shot isnt even one of the poets" and then i realised that WAITTTTTTT THATS THE POINT!!!! keating reached kids besides the poets!!! u didnt have to be in the dead poets society to be affected by the way he taught his classes!!! u just had to be his student!!!!! also i love the fact that the kids who stayed seated r ASHAMED. EMBARRASSED.

the ending shot. oihghgghgg. it was SUCH a choice to set it up this way and honestly i adore peter for making it. this shot is SOOOO UNCOMFORTABLE TO LOOK AT and i love it. when i first watched this i was like "uhm ok interesting choice putting todd between this kids legs but I GET IT. one of the biggest things i remember from the film classes i took is that the way u set up shots is sooo important narratively, and one way to rly push the narrative is the space around a character in a shot. for example! if u have a character on screen surrounded by a TON of negative space then it rly emphasises how alone/ isolated they are. on the other end of the spectrum (the todd spectrum), if you surround a character in a shot with other objects or obstructions, like todd and this kids legs, then it rly emphasises how trapped and confined they are. looking at this makes me feel like. claustrophobic almost, like it's genuinely a bit harder to breathe looking at it. TODD IS STILL TRAPPED IN THAT SCHOOL. YES HE STOOD ON THE DESK AND YES HE NOW HAS THE MOTIVATION TO BE MORE CONFIDENT BC OF NEIL BUT HE! IS STILL! TRAPPED THERE!

more on todd since im on a roll here.

i was also gonna add that we dont rly talk about todd personality wise outside of poetry and anxiety but then i realised, what else is there? we dont really see much about him as a person outside of that, and i think thats the point! todd is constantly overshadowed by his brother, we know that, but i dont think we realise HOW MUCH that ties in with his entire character. quite honestly, outside of poetry and anxiety, ALL we have surrounding todd is his brother and his achievements. and of course! that makes sense! his parents want him to be just like his brother, they dont care about who he is as a person. UGH.

the desk set scene rly is the most insight we'll get into todds actual personality and desires imo, and thats what kills me. he wants a car!!!! get this boy a car!!!!!!!!! we rly see him start to open up before neils death and i wouldve LOVED to get to know todd when he's actually in a place to be himself!! but of course we never got that! sobs.

anywho. thats all i have for now. PLEASE share ur thoughts if u have any pls pls pls. encouraging discussion!! i love love love hearing about the specifics nd stuff, theres soooo much to pick apart abt this movie so i wanna hear everyones thoughts.

[yuurei20]

Strange question but!! Yk how the villains are treated as heroes? How on earth did the heroes stories work if they, uh, yk, dont have the villains? Like i briefly remember TWST!Jafar hijacking Aladdin’s plan to fake being a prince, so theres not rlly any more “aladdin” story, but im curious how other stories went if u know! Are the OG heroes still treated as heroes, etc etc, that fun stuff

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question!!

The different interpretations of history that seem exist in Twst are fascinating, and one of my favorite things is the part in Book 6 where Lilia seems to insinuate that the Disney stories that we know might not actually be what really happened, because history is written by the victors:

These "classic" stories--were they, too, twisted to suit an agenda? Is the truth closer to what is taught as history in Twst, or is it somewhere in the middle? It is so interesting to think about!

For the most part it seems that the heroes from the stories we know are not turned into villains in Twst, and the deeds that are attributed to them were actually done by multiple characters from different folklore:

For example, Harveston has stories about miners and customs based on "a young lady who made a wish at a well," a "traveler" who cleaned a stranger's home and then a tale about "some princess who wished to fall in love right away," as if the young lady, princess and traveler are three separate people.

While basing their traditions on the miners, the lady and traveler, they also deify the Fairest Queen, as if they are all independent individuals with no overlap.

One of the more interesting parts of the Fairest Queen's history, in particular, is that there is actually a "dastardly villain" in Harveston folklore that stalks a woman who is then saved by forest creatures.

The huntsman is--just like the queen--not a villain in the Twst universe. Who was who, and what really happened? 👀

For the Scalding Sands, it seems that the unnamed princess and the sultan from local stories are just as revered as the Sorcerer of the Sands himself, with the sultan known to be the person who named the Sorcerer as his vizier and retaining their connection from the story we know.

Much like in Harveston, the history of the Scalding Sands seems to attribute what we believe to be the history of just one character to multiple individuals: Kalim talks about the Sorcerer saving his country from a street rat, who was a swindler/charlatan/usurper who tried to trick the sultan and princess, in a rare case of a "hero" being vilified.

But they also have folklore about "a poor but kind-hearted young man" who shared his food with children, and whose marriage to the beautiful princess they celebrate every year with a festival.

Whereas the Disney movies make the charlatan and the kind man into one person, in Twst's history it seems they were two different people.

Diasomnia is very big on the Thorn Fairy, and they also talk about the human king who feared her, the princess whose birthday she was not invited to (Silver: "Was their king raised in a barn?") and the three presents that the princess received.

Lilia talks about a trio of fairies that were not able to break the Thorn Fairy's curses and also put an entire kingdom to sleep, while Silver comments on how Lilia is consciously, intentionally emulating the three fairies from that tale with his cooking.

Silver and Malleus discuss "some faeries" raising a child for 16 years without magic, but they do not seem to know why they did so, and it is unclear if they believe that those faeries and the three faeries that put the kingdom to sleep are the same or different people.

Heartslabyul seems to separate Alice into two different characters as well, referring to a 1-km-tall giant that the Queen of Hearts tried in court and a child that got lost in the castle as if they were two people.

The only reference we get of the "heroes" of the Lion King tale are Jack referring to the King of Beast's "rascal of a nephew" and Leona mentioning that he deposed his brother "to build a better, wiser kingdom."

While the characters seem similar to the stories we know it's possible that the timelines are slightly different, with the rebirth of the pridelands being attributed to the King of Beasts himself rather than his nephew.

The history of the Sea Witch in Twst might be the most fascinating: the characters reference the Sea Witch taking someone's voice for a contract and making a shapeshifting potion to facilitate love between a mermaid and a human, but also turning herself into a human and being proposed to by a prince the next day, with no acknowledgement that the human from the first tale and the prince from the second might have been the same person.

They also talk about the eels flipping over a boat and a mermaid princess who had trouble walking on land, but there is no mention of the princess being in the boat in the eel story.

Octavinelle even acknowledges that the Sea Witch once made herself huge and sunk a ship with a whirlpool and "some even labeled her a monster," saying that she was later lauded as a compassionate figure after turning over a new leaf. (While the less-than-pleasant deeds done by the Sorcerer, the Fairest Queen and the King of Beasts in the stories that we know are never mentioned.)

Silver's tale from Halloween seems to be an exception to this rule. Everything done by the "hero" in the tale we know is still attributed to the hero in the story that Silver knows, and the enemy army is still the enemy army.

To the initial question: it seems that the heroes from the histories that we know are still being regarded as heroes in Twst (though they tend to get separated into multiple people), while the characters that we know as villains are also highly regarded. This sometimes includes their pasts (in the case of the Sea Witch and the Queen of Hearts), being separated from their pasts (in the case of the Hunter) or with no mention of their pasts (the King of Beasts, the Sorcerer of the Sands, the Fairest Queen, the Thorn Fairy).

(Not a lot of information about the King of the Underworld when compared to the others! Idia mostly just talks about how charismatic he was. Ortho suggests something about "the truth" about him being closer to Idia's own situation than they have been taught, but Idia is not convinced.)

Also: there is a reference to a hero rescuing his ladylove from the Underworld in Book 6, so it seems the hero in that tale remains a hero in Twst as well!

[tickety-boooo]

Some good omens limericks to brighten your day!

There once was an angel divine, Whose halo so brightly did shine, From demons he fled, Pulled halo from head, Exploded to buy them more time!

There once was a demon from hell, Who didn't like people too well, But a friend he did find, In the loving divine, An angel we'll call Mr. Fell.

I grimace, my patience worn thin, "Our car!" he'd said, sporting a grin, A dastardly fellow, He turned my car yellow! With travel sweets placed in a tin!

We stand here atop a great wall, Admiring the beauty of all, Discussing the weather, He shields me with feather-y Wings, as the rain starts to fall.

The demon arrives at my shop, I argue my point to the top, He twirls and he sings, Apology things, And for that I must give him props.

These were super fun to write! I just might have to create more of them soon!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What is a character's core?

I've used this term and variants of it in a few of my posts and I wanted to take a quick moment to define it because I'm not sure how commonly discussed this topic is, but it's an important one to keep in mind when evaluating and writing certain types of media.

Most genres of fiction make use of standard character roles/tropes. The plucky sidekick, the dastardly villain, the last girl, and so on. This isn't a bad thing. The existence of this stuff is a big part of how we define genres and how we evaluate writing quality. For example, if you're writing a romance, you're going to have romantic leads. Two (or more) individuals who will be together by the end of the story. If these roles don't exist, then you don't have a romance. And if their relationship feels toxic and unhealthy? You may not have a romance. Or, at least, not a classic romance. The worse the relationship is, the more you wander into the genre of "dark romance," which is all about enjoying deeply unhealthy fictional relationships.

This brings us to Miraculous and why I feel comfortable defending Adrien and Marinette as victims of bad writing.

Unless the writers are doing something truly insane, the love square is our end game couple. The ones destined for a happily ever after. That means that everything the writers do with these two and their relationship can be evaluated through the lens of, "are you honoring the characters' roles as the romantic leads?" And if the answer is, "No?" Then the writers are failing because "romantic lead" is a defining aspect of these characters. It isn't what they should be, it's what they are. Anything that goes against them being a good couple is bad writing.

This doesn't mean that they must be perfect. They're allowed to make mistakes and have flaws. Those are the sorts of things that drive a story! But the mistakes and flaws have to be treated as such by the narrative, they have to have some sort of resolution, and they have to be maintained in balance with the whole "love interest" thing. Too many mistakes and flaws and we've gone from "romance" to "tragedy," which is what I'd currently define Miraculous as.

This role evaluation thing isn't limited to romantic leads. Any character that has a clear role in the story can be evaluated via this criteria. For example, Alya is clearly meant to be a good best friend and reliable confidant for Marinette. You can tell this because of things like her learning Marinette's identity and her helping Marinette discover the secrets of the miraculous, big story moment that are treated as positives by the narrative. So anything Alya does that makes her feel like a bad friend is bad writing. It's why I get the Alya salt, but don't participate because I can't view her as the awful person the Lila stuff makes her out to be. That's not who Alya is narratively speaking.

Generally speaking, this core/role thing is my main way of evaluating characters in genre content like Miraculous. It's the driving force behind most of the character discussion on this blog and something I strongly encourage people to think about if they enjoy reading/writing genre content as it's a great guideline! Figure out the role a character is supposed to be in, generally honor that role, and you're golden! You have room for flaws and conflicts while still having something to keep you in check from straying too far off course.

[jellazticious]

Is it okay to request for more Fake Peppino?

And maybe your take on Fake Peppino's Fight?

I needed to draw Faker more, thank you

ramble regarding the second question under the cut

Not a very original take but I see the bossfight like an accident. Accident in a way that Faker was the only one who Pizzahead didn't discuss with about fighting Peppino and I think he lost the key to Faker or something lol.

And I'm pretty sure that Faker didn't fight Peppino to protect the key. The key isn't even where the fight took place, it was found upon exit. Like he was fighting for territory or dominance, he has no concept of cloning, he does not care or know that Peppino may or may not be the person he was based from, all he saw was just another inferior creature that look like him and came out with him from the laboratory. Peppino shows up in Faker's HOUSE and he is not gonna let that slide until he LEAVES, which Peppino did. Faker could have destroyed those wood planks in the end but he didn't because what's the point of it. He proved to Peppino that he is not someone to mess with and he got him to leave his domain. I'm pretty sure Faker still thinks he's the alpha among the Peppino clones the way Peppino did not defeat him the same way he defeated the rest of the bosses. In my headcanons, he's more animal than human, I talk to him like how OJ from Nope talks about Jean Jacket. You just gotta leave bro alone lest he eats you on the spot but Peppino is a different case because he thinks he's like some sort of competition so he played out this long fight to show Peppino what he's got and in return, to see what Peppino can do against him.

And to be fair, if I were Faker I will not be impressed and think that this fat fuck survived out of luck. Like he was throwing everything at that man and what Peppino does for majority of the fight was DODGE and wait for weakspots if I weren't to mention the fact that Peppino ran away from him.

I also kinda see Faker as a little cocky at times because that's just how it is when you're top dog, he has his fun with his prey but also some of that goofiness stems from the original Peppino too

I mean look at Peppi, he gets a little dastardly sometimes in the game when he's whooping ass, Fakes just already done it more times than Peppi

[villainous-queen]

See, Wyatt Nash may not be a fantastic actor BUT I think that works to his advantage portraying Christopher Dollanganger as an awkward, sexually repressed man which day to day manifests as “wholesome” and non-threatening which is what attracts Sarah Reeves to him. He has this air of asexuality, perhaps due to his childhood religious trauma but also, perhaps he believes that if he gives into any sexual urges he’ll explode. It’s a completely different vibe that Mason Dye gives off in the previous film which is trusting and naïve or the vibes of Jason Lewis in the third film which are more determined and self-assured. Wyatt Nash’s vibes in Petals on the Wind (2014) are frankly the most exquisite of the three main films.

[scummy-writes]

"Find The Chev!"

Inspired by @minsharkie due to her super cute papercrafts, and a discussion in my ikepri/ikevamp server where @solomons-poison brought up a cute idea of the Clavis papercraft sitting on top of Sariel's paperwork.

You didn't have much free time on your hands, not really, but you felt inspired one day after watching Clavis make some of his... creations... With some inks and stiff paper you found around the palace, you set to work with a dastardly deed of your own: capturing Chevalier's likeness in a cute, mini version of him. And after Clavis laid his eyes upon it, a mixture of mischief and jealousy flashed in his eyes.

From that moment on, he came up with a new game to play around the palace in hopes of annoying his brother, lovingly dubbed 'Find The Chev!'

It starts off, well... Chaotically.

At first, the little Chev would be found in places accompanied by Clavis' traps: near nets that were ready to drop, right in front of a pitfall, and the worst was in the (unlit) fireplace.

That was when you huffed, dusting the soot from your cute creation. After a few touch ups and a new paper cape for the mini beast, you told Clavis you put too much work into this just to have it sullied in such a way.

From that point on, little Chev traveled to much safer places, and the game restarted in a trap-free style. Each of the princes had gathered wind of this game by now, and it became a daily habit for whoever to find him to share where he found them with the others (and perhaps with a hint of where to find him next)

───※ ·♡· ※───

Leon found him at the training grounds, fit with a crudely made paper sword of his own by the rest of the weapons. He brought the news with a chuckle, joking that it was the first time he saw Chevalier with a sword drawn and no bloodshed.

Jin found him in Leon's fraction's office, balancing at the very tip of the messiest pile in the room. He seemed oddly relieved that he wasn't hiding elsewhere in the room, rather than ashamed at the mess.

Chevalier found him in his favorite reading spot in the gardens, returning him to you with his normal frown. Yet the mini version of him returned with a petal on his head, unharmed and in pristine condition, faintly smelling of roses.

Nokto found little Chev near his favorite 'reading' spot in the library, late at night. He didn't deliver this news until the morning after, but reported that the mini King Highness was reading a book of his own, with a little heart drawn on it.

Licht found him next in the stables, balancing carefully on the divider separating the other horses with his. He found it odd that it was there, but mumbled that little Chev was safe ontop a crude wooden horse of his own.

Yves brought word of little Chev's next adventure as he gave you some sweets to 'sample', saying he found him next to his baking supplies. He did not confirm or deny if the little Chev helped him bake the sweets he presented, bristling with a blush instead.

Luke yawned as he patted your head, asking if you knew why little Chev was hidden away in his favorite sleeping spot. When you had no answer, he simply shrugged and grinned, letting you know he found him with a little blanket of his own to join in on Luke's nap.

Sariel mentioned it at the end of a lesson, cleaning up the papers you two had used. This time, little Chev was found next to a secret bottle of Sariel's, leaning up against it as though he had sipped from it's contents. ... You sweated during the interaction, having to convince him you truly had no idea who hid it that time around.

Keith brought news of the surprise tea time guest, nestled between various sweets that Yves had made. Little Chev smelled faintly of tea, he reported, and seemed to be in good spirits.

Gilbert found him on top of the chess board him and Chevalier play on. He presented him to you with a grin, making note that the little Chev had taken place of the king, and was toppled over. You weren't too happy with the implications, but found relief that he only came accompanied with a white piece from that set.

Silvio had his hands on his hips when we informed you of finding your 'weird toy' in the spare room he had been holding meetings with merchants in. His frown got worse when he said the gaudy paper necklace he wore wasn't funny in the slightest.

And Rio found him on your breakfast tray, serving him to you with a wink. There, little Chev accompanied your morning tea and pastry, ready for you to take him on his next adventure.

Clavis putting him in the fireplace was meant to be a joke about how he feels about chev's actions, but it was unlit and he never wanted to bring actual harm to it (why would he do that to smth you made!!)

Anyway this was fun! I thought this was a cute idea, and I had fun imagining the little trips lil Chev could have gone on. I thought any trips into town would be risky, so I kept it limited to just around the castle(palace?) grounds.

I am imagining that lil Chev has a resting place that is easy for anyone to nab without spoiling the fun of Who Did It This Time, complete with a note beside it to Please keep him safe on his travels. Each time he is returned to you, you debate on leaving him there or taking a turn at hiding him again.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lokis-laugh @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys @drachonia @fang-and-feather @keithsandwich @bubblexly @ridiculouslly-ridiculous @drewadoodle

Ikepri Masterlist | Ikevamp Masterlist | Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

[sweetest-honeybee]

Evil X and Vespa

Summary: Based in the Hels Kitchen scene, Helsknight opts to let Evil X and our beloved Hels Beesuma (whom I’ve named Vespa) meet and it doesn’t go down the way EX intends for it to. Turns out not all Xisuma’s seem to get along with each other.

Based on this drawing

Enjoy!

—————

Most would assume Evil Xisuma was what was considered a ‘Hels’ Xisuma. The most consistently dreadful alter ego donned in red and a black visor? Surely, he must be. And yet, he isn’t. That role was given to a much, much older version of Xisuma that had existed long before Evil Xisuma was created.

And of course, Evil X was rather surprised…and envious.

Come the reveal of the realm of Hels, Evil X opted to follow Helsknight into the fiery lands where he assumed by some odd logic, or a mere assumption, that he was the only Evil Xisuma to exist. Obviously, Xisuma lied about meeting some “Evil” Evil X. Stupid! No such thing. And so, Evil X disregarded the thought that there was not an Xisuma in Hels already. And of course, he’s not going to ask.

Meeting other evil, or ‘Hels’ Hermits as Helsknight called them, was hardly on Evil X’s mind. A bonus, perhaps. His derpcoin scheme may grow easily that way if he cared to have the help but Helsknight was just enough.

Between the first invitation to Hels and the day he decided to call for Helsknight, Evil X rarely visited Hels. Very little exploration led to being very unfamiliar when he came back. Yet, many older faces he had seen, his own minions even, were sitting at the many booths and stools while he waited to start his dastardly meeting plans.

It was a simple greeting at first. He nodded as Helsknight came with a short ‘I got held up’ and the two decided it was worth getting a bite to eat while they discussed their plans. Time had passed and they found themselves talking on loose threads about anything they could after the food on their plates went a bit lukewarm (cold, maybe, but not in Hels). After a while, Evil X found himself enjoying Helsknight’s company.

“I gotta say, you’re way less boring than I thought you’d be,” he eventually chuckled, taking a small sip of his third drink of the evening. “Tell me, are all those Hels Hermits of yours like that?”

Helsknight laughs in a short ‘HA’. “No, no, they’re not. If you’ve got a Hermit you hate, chances are you won’t like the Hels.”

Evil X hums, setting the glass down. “To be fair, Wels is the one really philosophical dude, right? Takes things too seriously, I definitely don’t like him and his whole ‘knightly protection’ thing going on.” He raises his hands in air quotes as he speaks, rolling his eyes. “He hates the very definition of all evil. An absolute bore.”

As he goes on about Wels, Helsknight snorts and listens. “Hey now, I’m still his doppelganger, aren’t I? You sound just like Vespa the way you go on about Wels.”

The name earns a brief pause from Evil X as he raises a brow behind his visor. “Vespa? And they are…?”

Helsknight leans forward in disbelief, eyes widening in some kind of genuine shock. “You’re kidding right? Vespa? The Evil Xisuma of all Xisuma’s? Hels Xisuma?”

“But I’m Evil Xisuma-”

“You’re not Xisuma’s Hels, though. I’ve got no clue how exactly you must’ve been created or what but Vespa came long before you did, pal.” Helsknight almost can’t contain himself, face reddening with a wide grin. He moves to get up from the booth as Evil X watches and looks around. “Wait hold on I always see him here- Ah! Follow me.”

Evil X finds himself dragged from the booth by the wrist to the bar. Before he realizes what exactly Helsknight is showing him, his eyes fall on another man in much similar armor to Xisuma- only a dingy yellow, scuffed with scratches and chipped paint. A dull matte compared to Xisuma’s usual suit. And behind him a pair of long, thin insect-like wings. Stripes on the armor’s plating would suggest a hornet or wasp. Or of course…a bee.

The man at the bar finishes his glass- something of a strong black coffee and as much hard liquor as the ghast behind the counter would allow him. Antenna sprouting from the crown of his head perk up as Helsknight approaches to land a hard pat on his shoulder.

“Vespa! Same time as usual, huh? Figured I’d bring a friend over here for you, change the pace a little.” He offers Vespa a wink as he pulls Evil X into view. Yet, Vespa doesn’t match the widening eyes of Evil X’s red LEDs.

“You both talk very loud, Hels. I wasn’t going to let you make me spill my drink again.” Vespa lifts the now empty glass and sets it on the counter with a loud thud. He swivels his seat around, resting his elbow on the counter. “I’m beginning to feel there are too many Xisuma’s running around. One too many.” He narrows his eyes, a burning red just like Evil X’s crossed with a single thick scar on one side.

Evil X scoffs. “Alright, well you’re one to talk. I ain’t ever seen you before, so clearly you must be pretty useless yourself, huh?”

Vespa speaks simply, expression unchanging from an unimpressed scowl. “Useless? You’re a fraction of Xisuma born from a single death- an accident. I’m the world generated personification of every awful detail about the very man you seem to just barely annoy. In fact, last I checked, he even likes you.”

“Not much for small talk, are you,” the other says, already more than annoyed.

“Not my thing. My time is precious here.”

“Oh is it now-”

“Yes, and you haven’t seemed to have accomplished much in your time. Believe me, I’ve seen everything. You poor thing, Xisuma practically tucks you into bed at night now that you live together.”

“You–! I control him and he works for me. And didn’t you hear? He’s long past the whole bee thing. You’re a bit late.”

“Very impressive,” is all that Evil X gets. And oddly enough it infuriates him more past the initial sense of pride. Vespa lifts his glass again to the ghast which takes it. “Another.” It’s a long moment before he speaks again. “What does he do for you? Clearly not enough that you asked for help.”

Evil X growls, balling his hands into fists. “Oh you know,” he says through gritted teeth. “Just exploiting every Hermit on the server through a server-wide currency scheme. Care to keep answering your own questions for me since you know everything?”

“Every Hermit?” Vespa asks, finally sounding amused and ignoring the rest of Evil X’s statement. “Look at that, you can control, oh, 25? 26 people? Is this why you need help? A bit of management assistance?”

Helsknight snorts, knowing well what’s to come of the conversation. “Oh no, I’m helping him control more of them, haven’t snagged everyone just yet but we’ve got what? 5 Hermits?” All he earns from Evil X is a hard glare.

“Well, I don’t see you doing any better!” He turns to Vespa again. “Is that all you do? The big bad Xisuma from Hels sits and drinks himself to death every single day? Why don’t you get up and do something with yourself then?”

The knight grins at Evil X, glancing briefly at Vespa who chugs his next cup and swallows hard. “No,” he says.

Vespa slams down the glass this time, empty aside from the long crack that shoots up the side. The sound of the impact gets the attention of most, if not all in the bar, and Vespa stands. He’s just a few inches above Evil X and yet he towers over the man. Among the now silent bar, he speaks.

“Do you have a name, Evil Xisuma?”

Everyone waits, and Evil X swallows as his ears turn a bit red. Thankfully hidden inside his helmet. “I uh- I mean it’s. It’s Evil Xisu-”

“Is it? Is that all you’ve cared to call yourself? Nothing except a self proclaimed title that you can’t keep up with.”

“...Yes?”

Vespa scoffs. “Right. Do you know who I am, then?”

The other goes to laugh. “I’m not answering some stupid- wOAH–!” The answer is cut off by the way the ghast takes Evil X by the shoulders, dragging him to pin him down against the bar. Bent back against it. “What is this?!”

Seeing this, people begin to crowd around the trio, most serving Evil X hateful stares.

“Let me break it down for you, Evil Xisuma,” Vespa starts. “I’m sure you’re familiar with a little server where they build and play games and sing Kumbaya, but we have a system here, buddy. This is a fraction of a realm of the world's worst kinds of people and I manage a what’s practically a kingdom of many of those people. Armies of thousands that do as I say and I have grown to gain a level of respect and authority beyond what you’ll ever achieve. They fight for me.”

Evil X stares and then looks around the room. Among the many faces, Helsknight seems more than amused. Excited, even. And he swallows at the thought. These people won’t listen to him.

“O-Okay. And what about it?” He regrets asking immediately but his pride will forever be his downfall.

Vespa uses no words. A mere whistle and a nod towards Evil X and a patron approaches to remove his helmet. A second patron takes the helmet while the first reels his arm back with a tight fist, and in less than a second a hard punch throws Evil X’s head back against the counter. The action has Evil X writhing in the ghast’s tightening grip and he snarls. With the sound, he flares up in sharp red bolts that make the ghast cry out and let go.

Of course, such a varied group finds its way to keep him tied down. Quite literally. Among the crowd are summoned black thorny vines that shove him back down. Much to Vespa’s surprise even. Still, he continues.

“Care to try again?” he asks. “Such a shame, if you were just a little kinder the way you should’ve been, I might’ve helped you with your little corporate scheme.”

“Alright, alright, I’m done. Just let me go, man,” Evil X grumbles.

“I don’t think I will. Seems you like getting yourself out of your own messes so I’ll leave you to it.” Vespa turns to the crowd, a smug grin on his face. “Please, give him a warm welcome to Hels.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dearest Rollo, if you meet the Righteous Judge himself in person, what would you do?

DISCLAIMER: Whatever I write here does NOT reflect my own opinions about Frollo or any of the beliefs he held. I strongly disagree with and condemn what he stands for. In this post, I am creating through the viewpoint of a character that has a warped understanding of what Frollo was truly like, and thus I am using this perspective to inform my creative writing.

Like Fire, Hellfire.

A spark lit in Rollo's dark, gloomy eyes. His thin lips curved into a semblance of a smile--too small to be considered in full, but enough to register as different from the null expression he typically showed the world.

"My, what a thoughtful inquiry," he mused softly, uncharacteristically enthralled. "How kind of you to ask."

Rollo ran a finger across the red jewel set in his ring. Contemplative. "Were I to be graced with the presence of such a venerable man... Fufufu. I would humbly confess my admiration, confide that I strive each day to live up to his ideals. More importantly, I would like to discuss a great many things with him. Someone of his stature and moral compass would no doubt have a great deal of wisdom to share."

His eyes shone fondly with a newfound fire. Warmth crept into his voice, kindling a controlled excitement.

"I would invite him to walk alongside me in the City of Flowers," Rollo continued. "Surely he would be proud to gaze upon the place he has spent so long protecting and what it has blossomed into. The people prosperous, businesses booming, the peaceful song of the bells every morning, afternoon, and night..."

It was odd, you thought to yourself, how the same person who was once cackling about destroying all mages and pulling trap door levers was now quietly fanboying. I guess we all that capacity in us.

"We would stop at a bakery I frequent, perhaps share a light meal there. Bread, cheese, and grape juice. It would be a golden opportunity to become acquainted with him on a more personal level. Men allow for their true selves to shine over shared food. Beyond history and law, what I wish to discuss with him most of all is..."

Rollo found himself hesitating.

In his imagination, he was seated before the famed figure, prostrating himself. The Righteous Judge silently stared down at him. Watching, listening.

The busy bakery faded away to nothingness, and the table assumed the form of a confessional booth. It was him and the Righteous Judge, parishioner and pastor.

"Sir, I implore you. Please advise me. Guide me. Grant me your insight," Rollo begged. "Truthfully, I am... lost. I thought what I was doing was correct. That it was just. In his name, I dedicated myself to this cause, the crusade against dastardly mages--but I was not able to recognize those ambitions to the fullest."

Tears pricked his vision then. The stony-faced judge said nothing, did nothing.

"Now I am left with only the ashes and cinders of that broken dream, questioning what is right and what is wrong. I fear that my faith is wavering, that those vile villains have somehow tainted my soul."

His voice cracked like delicate glass.

"Your judgment is always absolute yet fair. Tell me then. What must I do to attain salvation? To soothe the fire that crawls and burns under my skin? To finally be at peace...?"

Finally, the judge's mouth moved, Rollo couldn't make out the answer. He was forbidden from that knowledge.

It was all meaningless noise. Garbage sounds. Nonsense. An answer, obscured.

Rollo closed his eyes and held his tongue. A sharp intake of breath. Then--

"... Well, you needn't know the details."

"Whaaat?!" you cried, pouting. "You're seriously going to leave me off with a cliffhanger like that? You were just getting to the juiciest part!!"

"I've already said enough. No, perhaps I've said too much."

"Keep talking!! I wanted to hear the rest of it!!"

Rollo folded his arms. "You already received quite the sufficient response. To ask more of me would be to cave to your greed. Be grateful that I was in a good enough mood to entertain the question."

[rocknbolan]

Rock RP Recap for 6-28 into 6-29

The Slipknot folks are having pots and pans fights. Bets taken. people taking it for the team.

Arthur of New York Dolls and Ace of KISS discussed cooking and debated the plural of macaroni. The conclusion? Too stupid to know how to cook.

Scotti and Rachel of Skid Row are not getting married. SHHH stop asking. But, they are making the move to L.A.

John Lennon would like everyone to make peace with yellow teeth.

Paul from The Beatles apparently has a fat ass, learning this detail with the help of Brian from Queen.

Nick of Megadeth is up to no good, diabolically threatening to restring Junior's bass.

The Beatles have been busy with shenanigans today. Apparently rock stars cannot cook, no matter what generation they're from.

Gwen of No Doubt heads to the arcade with Axl of GnR. With the cutest invitation ever.

Razzle of Hanoi Rocks has discovered that sharks can go into fresh water areas. Beware, swimmers.

Somehow the cooking foibles continues, this time it's Junior setting the kitchen on fire. (Learn to read packages, can save a life and keep your cabinets from getting smoke damaged!)

We have a conclusion to the dilemma of Ringo's sudden walrus. It was George who committed the dastardly deed!

Rob Zombie @wh4t-lurks-0n-c4nn3l-x has joined the chat! (And has some great insults.)

John Deacon @deakyyy-boy has joined the chat!

Graham Coxon @heeverglades has joined the chat!

In case anyone missed the edited addition yesterday... Pamela Anderson @iampamelaanderson has joined the chat!

And now, the weather.

Tropical Storm Axl of Guns 'n' Roses ran right up against Tropical Depression Vince of Motley Crue. It was a hilarious hailstorm of middle fingers followed by a sharknado of screaming insults. One wonders if this will drown out rumors of a tour between GnR and Motley Crue, or if the Gunners will join Skid Row's jetstream to take the US by storm. Or if they'll form a mega storm with all three bands.

Drought conditions with Ace of KISS, who was challenged to go 5 minutes without Eric. Will he make it? Stay tuned to find out!

Wildfire smoke over George and Paul of The Beatles. But residents need not flee their homes, it's been contained with the pair safely.

Continued chances of bite swarms, not just from Scotti of Skid Row either, rumors abound that Junior of Megadeth may also be part of the swarm. And something about rabies?!?