#did i write extensive lore for this in my head? yes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherubispunk · 10 months ago

Text

NEPHILIM - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the disturbing comforts the disturbed.

a note from Lucy: I swear there is fluff! I swear, I swear, I swear! You just have to squint *reeeeaaaalllly* hard. Yes, I read the book of genesis and the book numbers along with some extensive Wikipedia deep diving for like…a paragraph of lore. But is it really ever enough?

playlist | moodboard

wc: 2498

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! no use of y/n, I tried to keep her body type as generic as possible but he might be slightly skinny coded so please let me know and I’ll change it in edits, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, rough sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit)

series masterlist | m.list

Genesis 6:4 The Nephilim were in the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bore children to them; the same were the mighty men that were of old, the men of renown.

The reality of it was, you and Joel were two people who lived in the same small town. Who’s paths crossed once to save your life, and the others when coincidence would grant you that small pleasure. He carried you to the care of an old man with blue eyes now milky in cataracts. Jude. Who nursed you to health in a metal framed bed of an old family home— now the town clinic. The knife that sliced open your side had been dirty, and sepsis soon spread in the bloody gash. Only with Joel finding you in the snow, and Jude delivering you antibiotics, did you recover back to health.

He wouldn’t visit you directly. He would visit Jude and glance at you through the doorway as he passed the hall to the elderly Man’s office. To distract from the man you read stories when bedridden. Parts of biblical scripture; Read the book of Genesis; Read the book of Numbers. Jude being a religious man who had the fortune of holding God in his heart, kept them among his medical journals and books. And the former was far more interesting than the later in your opinion. For in them were mentions of anthropomorphic creatures born of flesh, blood and divinity. Towering tall over common trees and temples built in the name of Lord God. You were no religious woman, but you found comfort in the fables of the Old Testament. And likened Joel to the Nephilim in all ways.

Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there. If he was all that bad…why did he save you? You saw his need to care, protect, understand. Not be understood. But just understand. You would let yourself dream of taking his rough edges to the smooth plane of a whetstone. People claimed you cannot buff brass into gold. That it will only be as such in your head. That it was a fools game, but the fool is rich in content, and poor in sorrow. For the fool has little to worry about while they live in ignorant bliss.

What wasn’t written in any of the books of the holy scripture was this; ‘The disturbing comforts the disturbed.’ But it might as well have been. It was practically the way god intended life to be. You are shaken, and you are weaned on being shaken, until stillness is a discomfort and your body begs to be rattled again. But harder.

—

You took a while to find your feet. Joel took it upon himself to wordlessly help you with any medial or manual task. You were given a house on the edge of town, up a hill in some remote street that was always quiet. It seemed the less social souls resided there. Not that you minded. It was jarring to say the least. Being cast out into the hostile wild. And then brought back into the warmth. Here you had clothes, food, a roof over your head, and community. It stung in the same way it does to run your hands under a scalding tap after labouring out in the cold. It made your fingers numb before they regained feeling. Stiff. And a trouble to flex them back and forth, closed fist, open palm; Closed fist, open palm.

It’s how you earned ‘Bambi’. A name only Joel would ever call you. Dear doe on her wobbly, spindly legs. He’d keep you upright. Despite being a good thirty year sicker than you. Dirty old man. Ditsy little girl.

Your time together was silent. And while he never said he cared, he showed it. By waiting for you each time you were in the stables. And he would walk through town with you a safe distance from his side, up to the top of the hill your house was on. The snow would crunch under his heavy boots and he wished he was lighter on his feet like you. Not a large bulk of a man with heavy feet and even heavier hand. Maybe Joel wasn't large by the world's standards, but he was still a giant to you- muscular, and broad shoulders. With hands that could engulf yours, or cradle the entire crown of your head with a single palm. His arms were strong, and large from manual labour, and tightly knotted with tendons and grizzly muscle like thick twisted ropes that held up sails. What you liked most, however, was his softer belly. Perhaps the only soft thing about him from what little you had seen, or heard, or assumed. You felt an intrinsic satisfaction in knowing he was well fed. And Joel didn't mind it either. It was a reminder to himself what he was in fact as safe as he could be. Anything to not go hungry again. He still kept his brawns either way. Kept his hands and mind busy with patrols and the odd job around town. Fixing roofs, garden sheds, building tables with spare lumber from the woodhouse, and chopping firewood for the colder months. At the beginning of winter he would spend most of his free time ensuring you had enough. He spent hours out in his backyard, swinging that axe down on log, after log of wood. Then carry it up the hill in a wheelbarrow to your front door. He did it for nothing. Nothing but the peace of mind that grew from the seed of knowing you were warm. But he was greeted with something you had baked, or sewn, or knitted, or grown in your empty hours alone. Apple and rhubarb pie, thick woollen gloves, sourdough bread with crunchy, thick crusts that crunched when he broke his bread.

“It’s nothin’.” He would say, and shrug, hands on his hips while he looked back at the finished product of whatever work he’d slaved over that entire afternoon. Be it a pile of firewood, raised garden beds, or a fixed gutter. “Just…do me a favour?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Keep that smile on y’face, Bambi. Don’t let anyone take it away from ya.” His face was stern. As if he was telling you, not asking you. But if you were to ever stop smiling he thought he’d keel over and die a little bit inside. Or part of him would anyway. The part of him you now had in your chest unwittingly.

You watched the mountain of a man, Big Bad Joel Miller, warm up. Day by slow day. He was on the threshold of it. Right there. But the toe of his thick winter boots never ventured onto floorboards. He stayed out in the cold. After a while you dared Joel to touch you. Tired of him only meeting halfway. He was a man of few words, but a man of so much action. And when you challenged him with your tongue, he countered with his touch. That night was hell under the guise of heaven for his restraint.

“Y’so bad for me, Bambi.” Joel grunted, his entire weight smothering you against the mattress of his bed. His cock dragging in and out of you slowly. “Old sinner like me ain’t made for you.” So slowly the anticipation ached in the joints of your toes that curled. His grip on your hips casting his handprint in a watercolour bloom. “That’s it, fuck– takin’ me so well.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, back arching in a deep curve off the bed while his hips altered their pace. Just a tad quicker as you bucked up into him. The two of you climbing in tandem to the high. “That's it,” He repeated in a hiss, followed by a growl into your neck, “Keep archin’ that back for me.” You did just that, holding onto his forearms for leverage as you curled your spine a little deeper. A word came to mind. One you’d heard once before. Only once. But I held such a comfort to be able to label it. Hiraeth. He was that. And what you felt was that. A longing for a home. He treated you like you wouldn't break. But spoke as if words would lacerate you. One punctuated thrust, aided by your own slick was all it took, a moan for him deeper. A tear slipped from your eye and you let gravity do its work, pulling it from you. It slipped from the corner of your eye, and down your temple. “Good girl, Bambi.” He crooned, splaying both of his palms over your hairline and sweeping the hair that stuck to your forehead in the sheen of sweat atop your skin. His large hands dragged over the top of your skull to the crown of your head, down the back of your neck, and gripped. That soft fleshy part at the base of your skull and the top of your still curved spine.

It hurt. It deeply hurt. His calloused fingers, textured by the trigger of a gun, or the handle of an axe, pressing into your malleable skin. But you’d let Joel drag you to hell if it meant he would hold your hand. You didn't care how he touched you– how he was inside you. He could be buried to hilt in your cunt, or knuckle deep in an open wound. As long as he was there. You'd give the heavens, and the earth, and rot in hell if it meant he stayed. Joel swore you had the space for his heart next to yours. But you didn't have the stomach.

You gripped the skin of Joel’s back. Searching for a part of him to hold that would turn off the cynic in him. Or at least try. You gave up on that idea. Because the man that fucked you— the man that loved you in action and not words— was not kind. He was not gentle. He was bold, and sharp as broken glass, and blunt all in the same being. You knew the crease of his brow. You had it memorised.

He hooked a leg over his shoulder, opened you up to his greedy eyes. They misted into dark hickory at the sight of you taking him so well inside of you. Messy little cunt for him to play with whenever he pleased. His nostrils flared as he pressed deeper. And your reaction was as he planned. A cry of his name. Your sex drenched and accommodating every inch. “A cunt made for me.” He gritted through his teeth, leaning forward to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick into the wet cavern of your mouth; Take the taste of you back with him when he retreated again; Righting his hips and the angle he fucked you in.

“Made for you.” You agreed in a garble and a slur. As if drunk off the last dregs of his kindness that lay at the bottom of the bottle. Licking it dry for all it was still worth.

“Say it again.” Joel grunted, demanded.

“Made for you.” You repeated.

“Good little Bambi.”

From there it was the crescendo. And it came broken in two halves of two separate waves. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And the second was the one that broke you. Had you shattering. It tightened in your womb, behind the mouth of your cervix, and then released in slow flutter; Your walls relaxing and then contracting. And he came after with a groan and spilled inside of you.

He was no gentle lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. When he fucked you that night…it felt like he was trying to love you— but couldn’t. He was too conditioned to violence. It showed the ache he left behind. Nevertheless, you would take more than he was willing to offer. But what he dropped in your palm you stored away and hoarded like a greedy magpie with shiny little trinkets. He was warm. But not warm like a campfire. He was warm like hellflame. And you were okay with that. You would take your time with him, and slowly pry open a gap in his ribs to slip past. To love him to the marrow. Even the mangled parts. Find him at his very worst — The part humanity suffocated in. And love him there. Silently.

Joel ran a hand over the flank of your ribs and then curled around your navel to pull your back to his chest. Then kissed the crook of your neck in a silent apology to your skin for each mark or tender bruise he may have left. One that wasn't really needed, but you accepted it by reaching behind you and running your fingers through his thick greying curls. In times like these after it all, in the clot and space in between, you came to realise loving him was like loving being hungry. It felt good to want things. To feed yourself you swallowed your fear instead. You lay there, exhaustion heavy in your bones, a hand of his slipping between your legs to feel the evidence of him being there inside you. His spend sticky and thick and warm between your legs. You couldn't fight the impulsive twitch that jolted your spine when he pressed on your swollen, slick clit and drew lazy circles. “Mine now, Bambi.” He murmured into the skin of your shoulder. He didn't kiss the skin there, but rather trailed his chapped lips over your flesh in such a light touch it felt like it was hardly there. More a trick of the sex hazed, lust crazed mind. “Understand that?” And you nodded in silence with a small smile, watching out the frosted up window pane as the dawn stained the sky a burnt orange and angry red. It refracted and smeared in the crystallised ice. A thin sheet that obscured the image of the sycamore tree outside his bedroom window. The bare branches looked far more like the bones of skeletal fingers than a tree bare of leaves. Its bleach white bark only emphasised your image of it. Your vision. Nevertheless; The blackbird would sing, once again on its branch, a morning song you knew by heart.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #nephilim

201 notes · View notes

aangarchy · 9 months ago

Text

Netflix atla live action review ep 7-8

Home stretch baby. I figured since i love the source material i should just be able to enjoy it, or at least be entertained by it somewhat. But even that was just not possible. I pirated it after the first three episodes just bc i didn't want to give netflix the satisfaction of a view.

It's not so much the acting, the costumes or even the bad/mediocre cgi, it's the writing. It's an absolute shitshow, a mess of the highest caliber. For someone who claims to love the source material, it really seems like Albert Kim didn't understand why a lot of the things in the original worked the way they did. Things that are important for character growth got removed, and lore that we normally don't see til later on in the show (or even in a completely different story within this universe!!) got crammed in. For no good reason too bc it doesn't really add anything, just gives us another obstacle or useless exposition that's supposed to explain another useless thing they added.

Both of the last episodes take place in the north pole. This makes sense somewhat because in the original all three of the last episodes took place there. The reason they did this in the original is to have room for all of the stories that still need to take place (pakku, zuko, spirit world, koh, waterbending training, sokka and yue etc.) However in this version, even though minutes wise we have more time, we have less story. Like way less. Also episode 7 proportionally is much shorter than 8 and it really gives issues with pacing.

Let's start with what annoyed me most. Where is the waterbending training? Where is it? The season's title is Water and Aang bent ZERO water this entire season unless he was in the avatar state. Katara "trains" yes, but it's mostly practicing moves she found on the scroll (which gran gran just gave to her? Why didn't this woman give it to her sooner???). She gets NO guidance from anyone, and the way she gets better at bending each time is because a BOY told her encouraging things. A BOY. In the OG we get Pakku saying "raw talent alone is not enough", which makes sense because bending in this universe is an extension of martial arts, and you have to train to become good at martial arts. This LA show however treated bending like a magic power, basically giving some mumbo jumbo about balance and a clear head and think of the people you love to become a better bender. And while yes, your mental headspace also is important (as highlighted in the original where zuko couldn't bend anymore bc he had no aggression left) it wasn't the only factor, it wasn't even the main factor.

When we arrive at the North Pole, Pakku and the chief of the North both expect Aang to help with battle strategy in order to stop the attack bc they're already aware it's coming. Aang tells them he doesn't really know how (wtf were they even expecting it mean that is a whole 12yr old) and they turn away going "guess we can't count on the avatar" like? Dude?? If they have such good intel that they already know the fire nation is preparing an attack, and that the Avatar is alive, how tf did you not hear that the Avatar is also 12 years old and far from a master of the four elements? Idk this weirded me out.

They removed the deserter episode, which means Aang doesn't renounce firebending, which means we get no storyline of Aang dealing with his conflicted feelings surrounding firebending because fire gives life, not just destruction. Katara also doesn't find out she can heal naturally. We just get told that healing is just a thing all waterbenders can do if they train for it. Katara's necklace has no significance at all in the story currently. Yugoda doesn't recognize that Katara is Kanna's granddaughter. Katara's gran gran being from the north originally doesn't play part in the story at all. Katara doesn't even once utter the words "this necklace used to be my mother's". Idk why that bothers me so much but it does. They also removed her rage at not being allowed to fight. Sure this show's Katara also goes to fight Pakku, but literally everytime she speaks she just sounds reasonable. She fights him not because she's So Enraged at not being allowed to become the master she's meant to be, but because the script demands it. She says it so matter of factly too. She's like a mellowed out shell of who Katara is supposed to be. I feel like this overall for her character in this show btw. I don't blame Kiawentiio bc i saw clips of her performance in other works (anne with an e notably) and she's good. This genuinely just seems like poor writing and directing. They removed all of Katara's passion. She's not warm, she's not feisty, she's not angry, she's not nurturing, she's also not flawed at all. I hate to say it but in this version she's giving Mary Sue, especially bc she just learns waterbending on her own, and then gets called a master out of nowhere. That's not how that's supposed to work. You're supposed to earn the term master.

Let's talk about Yue. Amber Midthunder is a great actress, but damn, that wig. Their budget was over 100 million dollars and yet they couldn't give my girl a lace front? Her wig was so structured and stiff, and if it were any other context like cosplay or a drag show this would have been perfect. Now it just looked really unnatural and instead of the hair being platinum it was gray. Yue's character got given more to do here. They changed the story to have her break her own engagement, but it's implied that the reason she did this is bc she met Sokka in the spirit world and... fell in love? Idk it was a bit weird. Both Suki and Yue were inexplicably entranced with Sokka. In the OG it's implied that Yue likes Sokka bc he's so different from the boys in the north, kind of like a city girl falling in love with a country boy. But here it feels different, he doesn't stand out at all compared to the other boys, and Hahn isn't a dickhead like the OG. I will say i like that Yue is a stronger character here. She takes charge of her own destiny and she is the one to realize that she can save the moon spirit, and wasn't told by someone else that she could do it. I am confused by them making her a waterbender, but i'm not mad at that change per se. I liked her sacrifice scene, her own acting was great. Sokka however... i genuinely burst out laughing, like so loud. The zoom in on his face, the expression, it was too much and too little at once. Overall, Yue's story was okay. Was it better than the original? Debatable. But it wasn't bad and that's a win.

We get Avatar Kuruk way earlier than we originally got him. I'm still kind of confused about the whole "you can talk to past Avatars but only in their shrine with their statue" thing, because if that's the case how in the hell is Aang ever gonna ask advice from Roku (or Kyoshi, since the writers clearly have a bias towards her and want to make her the main Avatar guide ig) without having to travel all the way to the shrine? Can they only talk in the one specific shrine or can we take a miniature set of Avatar action figures with us just in case we ever need advice? Also this lore abt the shrines and statues is flawed at best bc later on Kuruk shows up for Aang during the fight, while they're not present at the shrine. Either way, Kuruk was far from the go with the flow Avatar he was characterized as in the original. I know that we got some insight into Kuruk's story in the Kyoshi novels, and turns out it's a lot darker than expected, but Kuruk never let that change his character. He always remained chill, or at least kept up the facade, and i don't think OG Kuruk would be the type of man that is angry about how his life turned out. In this version, Kuruk is this scared, mean, bitter man who is really unsatisfied with his destiny, which he lashed out at Aang for. He seemed really angry at Aang to for no good reason. We're also not supposed to know this part about Kuruk's life yet. It's too much information and de waste time learning about his life story, the only reason we learn it in the first place is to explain the Special Spirit Killing Knife. Also the actor for Kuruk.... yikes bro. Idk which hallmark movie they pulled him from but he and his stupid polar bear hat looked like ass the whole time.

So there's this weird part about Kuruk having a Special Knife that is able to kill spirits. Idk if this is a thing from the Kyoshi novels that also made it into this show bc truth be told i haven't made it far into those novels yet at all, but it was strange to me. Somehow Zhao has this knife. We don't know how he ended up getting it (did the fire sage give it to him? I didn't see it but i might have missed it) and we pretend that this is the Only Thing that can kill spirits even when the spirits are mortal. Doesn't that negate the fact that the spirits are mortal, if they can only be killed by a Special Knife? Also there's this weird convoluted part about how the spirits actually live in the spirit world and only cross to the physical world once every ice moon to know what it feels like to be "mortal" and choose a different "mortal" form each time and this time they happened to be fish. But still, they can Only Be Killed By The Special Knife. Huh? What's the purpose of this added extra lore? I saw someone say the underlying point is that it shouldn't be this easy to kill spirits but.... that's the whole idea behind the Ocean and Moon spirits having permanent mortal forms? Them being mortal and choosing a form as insignificant as a fish, constantly circling each other to represent the precarious balance between Ocean and Moon, a balance that can be thrown off very easily. The whole point was that they're fragile so why add all this extra exposition for no reason? Why make the spirits harder to kill if in the end you're still just gonna have a guy stabbing a wet bag and not some rough spirit killing battle?

Zhao also just gets told by the fire sage that killing the moon is a thing he can do. I don't like what this changes about Zhao's character. Zhao is supposed to be this cunning man. He's scary, determined, strategically inclined, but alas overconfident and willing to go too far which ends up being his downfall. His ambition is what led him to do his own research by visiting a spirit library to find any weakness he could potentially exploit, and that's precisely what he found. In the original, Zhao always fought for his own career. His own accomplishments got him the tools to try and beat Zuko in the Avatar race. But in this version, Zhao just keeps getting handed things. He's a slippery snake that plays friends with Zuko and then tries to steal the glory from under his nose. He gets handed the archers, he gets handed the information on the moon spirit, he gets handed a war balloon (which completely ruins the surprise of the fire nation suddenly having air power at the invasion), and he gets helped by Azula of all people. It makes him look a bit chumpy in this story, and it really worsens his villain qualities.

On a completely other note, this LA seems to have a thing for making adults yell at a 12yr old Avatar for leaving the world behind, and it doesn't make any sense, because in this story Aang left on Appa for a joyride to clear his head. Aang didn't purposely leave. He had every intention of returning after an hour. Yet every adult in this show, even the past Avatars that know damn well Aang didn't flee from his responsibilities, yells at him bc he accidentally got encased in ice. And somehow this Aang gets made to feel worse about it than OG Aang even though he deserves it way less bc this Aang didn't actually run away! I don't like what this changes about Aang's character. In the OG, Aang has one fatal character flaw and that's avoiding responsibility. He runs away, and has problems with taking accountability for what his actions cost the world. He goofs around, plays games and likes to have fun to avoid having to face his destiny, all while carrying the guilt and blame for the century war. It's a huge part of Aang's character journey. The guilt he feels isn't misplaced bc Aang knows he ran off, and he knows that the world is in its current state because of his decision. In the end he takes responsibility by showing up to the fight with Ozai alone. In this LA, even though by all means Aang shouldn't feel responsible, he ends up taking responsibility right away. He goes to Kyoshi Island, not to goof around and ride giant koi, but because he knows he can talk to Kyoshi there. Kyoshi yells at him for leaving (again, why? She knows he didn't run away) and gives him a vision about the watertribe getting destroyed. Instead of panicking about it (like OG Aang did after finding out abt the comet) he just accepts that he needs to go and help. And while this Aang does get to have fun moments (i especially loved how in the first episode he sees playing watertribe children and immediately joins them, that was quintessential Aang), he just seems very down and serious a lot of the time. He's scared of people getting hurt and is very worried abt the safety of his friends to the point where he agrees with Pakku and tells Katara she shouldn't fight. It's not Aang at all bc OG Aang was rooting for Katara when she fought Pakku. To sum it up: i think the casting for Aang was perfect. A cute southeast asian skater kid that loves to have fun and genuinely just looked the part? Brilliant! I am genuinely not upset at Gordon's performance at all (although sometimes i wish he'd enunciate a bit better). But the writing messed up the character so much that i couldn't even feel the joy for having the perfect looking Aang. I will say Koifish Godzilla (Koizilla if you will) looked dope. What did confuse me abt the Koizilla scenes is that sometimes there was no music (which is a choice i often like bc it gives the scene extra gravitas) and then sometimes there was a majestic score playing in the back, like they couldn't choose how they were gonna execute it and just picked both. I know that's nitpicky but it bothered me nonetheless.

Speaking of Koizilla. Wtf was that thing they added about Aang "succumbing" to the ocean spirit and being "lost"? They didn't even explain it at all, but both Yue and Iroh talked about how Aang would be lost forever now. We don't get a why, we don't get a how. And "lost" is such a vague word for it too. Like would his spirit be lost and only his body remain? Would he be completely swallowed up by the ocean? Would he remain Koizilla, forever rampaging at the ice wall? They added this for extra tension i guess, but it doesn't really work when only minutes later Aang is able to return no problem bc Katara talked him out of it, so we don't even get to find out what "he'll be lost forever" means. Also: the scene with Katara talking Aang out of it was cute, but the execution was weird. Originally Katara gives this speech when Aang goes Avatar state at the southern airtemple. I like that they still kept Katara's speech to Aang bc it highlights their bond which is especially important for later on in the show, but I don't like how now Katara had to give this really heartfelt emotional speech to Aang in front of everyone else at the northern watertribe. It's supposed to be quite an intimate moment between her, Sokka and Aang as a new family, they're supposed to promise they won't let anyone harm him, which eventually calms him down. Here though Katara's just yelling these words at him in front of everyone and all the intimacy is gone. It also doesn't work as well bc we barely got any time of the gaang bonding. They spend episode 3-6 apart most of the time, so really they shouldn't feel this bond towards each other just yet. Because this LA removed a lot of the side adventures, we don't get the feeling that these kids have known each other for months.

Another thing they removed is Appa and Momo as characters. In the original they each get their own moments, we even got one whole episode with Appa as the main character (which won an award btw). Here though, Appa is solely used as a transportation animal and Momo... honestly i don't even remember what he does but i think it's mostly a small comedic bit? Also he hands the acorn to one of the characters. This is a bad change bc in these episodes Momo gets hurt so bad he nearly dies, and it has no emotional impact at all bc he's just an accessory in this story. I felt no emotional attachment to Momo and he just has no personality. I wonder how this choice is gonna play out when we get the kidnapped Appa story bc so far it's not looking good.

Anyway, for positives. I warmed up on Dallas's performance a lot, i wasn't that mad at Ian Ousley's performance and there were moments where he genuinely made me laugh. The cgi for the creatures was decent, but for the backgrounds it looked horrible. I liked that they showed how devastating the Seige of the North ended up being, with the unnamed kid and Hahn both dying. I liked the effect showing those two had on our main characters. I liked when Aang, Sokka and Katara all worked together taking out that one firenation ship. I liked the way they showed Sokka and Yue bonding. I really warmed up to the costumes as well, i still wish they dirtied it up a little to make them look less new.

There's probably some more positives but they're really minor compared to the negatives and also my brain is just done atp. I'm never gonna rewatch it for more analysis either bc i don't think i'll survive it lol. I might make another post abt my opinion on the show as a whole? Like an overall summary? Bc this shit is VERY long and i do apologize. If you made it this far, uhm. Thanks for caring abt my opinion so much that you sat down for like 10 minutes to read my angry yapping? I appreciate it.

Anyway bye

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar #natla #netflix live action #netflix atla #atla netflix #netflix #atla la #atla live action #natla review

44 notes · View notes

yellowhollyhock · 7 months ago

Text

so. Roman writes a script for an episode that he knows is good. He's very excited. He feels like he finally did something right.

Shows it to Logan. Gets it back all marked up.

accidentally got long

It starts a big fight. Easy for us to imagine how this goes because they have this or adjacent fights all the time.

Janus is on Roman's side which would make Roman more angry. Virgil is on Logan's side which hurts especially (idk if there's new content but last I know Roman and Virgil were pretty much the only consistently getting along, maybe Janus and Remus idk). Remus is there for a good time (see Roman's ideas are not good you should use mine). Patton manages to hurt everyone's feelings by taking Roman's side but sounding unsure about it (poor little guy is trying so hard to take care of everyone).

Roman has some good points: why is Logan criticizing his work when it's going to be reviewed by the writing team anyway? Isn't the most important thing at this stage for Thomas to be excited about his own ideas?

Virgil probably gets a little defensive here, like okay wow I'm sorry that Thomas can't always feel great and excited about his creations all the time. Did you even think about how much worse it would be if it was the writing team making all these corrections instead of Thomas doing it within his own head?

And then something clicks for Logan. All these corrections? What do you mean?

And now Virgil's defending Roman as best he can and still be honest with himself. You did kinda rip into it, Teach. I know you're holding is to a high standard but geez, look at all this red ink

Logan: Huh. It sounds as if the two of you think that because I marked it excessively, I disapproved of the script.

Thomas, glancing between them: Well yeah that's usually what red ink means (?)

Logan: No--I mean, yes, but this isn't high school. We're working at a higher level here.

Roman: And now you're calling me a high schooler?

Logan *adjusts glasses*: I specifically said this isn't high school. It is true that, especially for beginning writers, revision marks are usually an indication of

m i s t a k e s

Logan: Wow. As I was saying, Roman is not a beginning writer. I marked the text so excessively because I was engaging with the text. Seeing as it is, in fact, a draft, and will be submitted to peers for review, it is important that Thomas i prepared to discuss the material.

And they're all huh wha? but he wrote it tho?

Logan: Yes, but it's my job to take it from a daydream to a plan. If you read my notes, you would find--

Patton: Red ink!

Logan, thrown off: Yes, that's--we've established that I've made marks--

Virgil, recognizing an Epiphany from the Heart when he sees one: What are you getting at, Patton?

Patton: I mean, this isn't high school anymore!

Logan: Okay, you're just reiterating what I've said.

Patton: Sorry, what I mean is--when Thomas was in school, revision wasn't really treated as part of the creative process--it was a judgment from an authority figure, like a teacher! Or a parent

Logan, now interested: What are you getting at, Patton?

Patton: Thomas has a negative emotional reaction to the color red in that context.

Roman: But that's ridiculous!

Janus: Red has more positive connotations than negative. That's basic color theory :3

Virgil: Don't.

Remus: BLOODY BODY DRAGGED ACROSS THE FLOOR OF THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL

Patton is horrified

Logan, annoyed: Patton, you were saying?

Patton: Oh! Glitter pens!

Thomas: Glitter pens?

Roman: Glitter pens?! Now is not the moment for a consolation prize!

Logan: Oh, that's actually quite brilliant, Patton.

Virgil: What??

Logan: As I was saying, way back at (time stamp) before I was I N T E R R U P T E D, if you were to look at the notes I've made, you would find things circled that were phrased particularly well that I believe should go untouched to the final draft.

Roman: ... we would?

Logan: You would also find extensive notes on how the things you've implied in this script fit into the larger lore, which you have done particularly well this time.

Roman: Oh, I, uh--

Logan: I've noted places where we could have an opportunity to research a topic you've touched on and elaborate further, if the run time permits. If not we could possibly link relevant articles.

Roman: ... Oh.

Logan: Of course, minor grammar mistakes or small inconsistencies are also marked, but you do make a valid point there were not many of them this time.

Patton: So if we started color coding the different things Logan does when he revises, we could get Thomas to start thinking about the revision process differently!

Roman: Logan, I'm so sorry, I've been approaching this all wrong. I felt like you weren't even looking at my contributions or giving them a fair chance, and the truth is that's exactly what I was doing to you.

Logan: I appreciate you acknowledging that, Roman.

anyways the whole reason I put this on tumblr and not ao3 is because it has been sitting about here for uh. years now. So yeah they color code things and it helps Logan feel like he has a place in the creative process and also helps Roman not to take feedback so personally

#writing #fic ideas #sanders sides #revision process #sometimes the simplest solutions are the best #what if i just made them all talk things out calmly and listen to each other #i think they're allowed to be emotionally intelligent with all the time they devote to introspection #now when thomas has to interact with other people. maybe that's a dofferent story

22 notes · View notes

campbyler · 1 year ago

Note

can i ask what your guys’ writing style is? like how you write or plan for big fics like this?

hi!! thank you for this question! (some minor-ish CH2 SPOILERS INCOMING BTW so if you haven’t read it yet i suggest coming back to it once you have!)

the three of us all have a tendency to Overwrite so much, and andi and thea have outlined their fics extensively in the past, but i (suni) only started doing so in the last few months and it was because of this fic! we did so so so much planning before ever starting to write, even all the way back when we first conceptualized this fic in january. we have maybe three or four different versions of the outline, a whole document to organize what songs we’re choosing for each chapter to put on the playlist, an entire google slides presentation of the timeline in order to keep track of it LOL so there has definitely been very meticulous planning that we’ve put a lot of time into! our earliest version of the outline looked something like the first pic fkwjdkwk (thea was in the trenches. andi was Stressed about the outline. i was sitting back laughing my ass off)

and the second two are from our current working outline that we are at this very moment using as we write (ft some Key Plot Moments for you). we have all 15 chapters of the fic outlined like so and already had them outlined for a while before even starting! that way there’s no confusion among the three of us over what happens when and where and to whom. since we all planned the fic together and have a good idea of the flow of events (barring individual scene choices and stuff ofc) we usually start writing the chapter once the person before us is a reasonable way through — that way, there’s enough for us to work with so we have content to reference from the previous chapter, but it’s early enough to get a head start so we (hopefully) don’t get too backed up!

basically, it’s a really long fic with a lot of lore and a lot of Events and we needed to keep track of it. so we wrote it all down. we also have a google doc for everything. biiiiig fans of shared google docs. yes, this did all take months. lol. yes we are very proud of ourselves. hehe 🤸 thank you for this question! feel free to hit us up for more writing process related inquiries anytime, we’d love to talk to you guys about it!!

#thank you for asking!#the planning process for this fic was so fun #sad and tragic tht i can’t show u some banger lines from the outline bc andi is so funny #bc they are spoilers :/#so sad #asks #ch02 #not rly but the outline is for ch2 so #acswy spoilers

50 notes · View notes

jackdaw-kraai · 2 years ago

Text

New Patreon Post? New Patreon Post.

It was probably high time I told y'all about the fact that I have a patreon again and attempt to do so in a way that's not completely gauche, SO. Let me tell you about about what it is, does, and after all that, why you should at least look at it even if you would sooner gargle orange juice after brushing your teeth than give me money.

Patreon, as you probably know, or maybe not, is a site that kind of works on the old idea of patronage. AKA, artists get paid money to do what they love so they don't, y'know, starve. Except instead of one rich fuck, it's funded by many far-less-rich people, because fuck capitalism. In practice, you subscribe to an artist, pay them however much a month you want, and the amount determines which tier subscription you have and what rewards you get access to. As you've probably guessed, I have such a system in place.

So *slaps roof of patreon* lemme tell you what this bad boy can fit in it. It can fit LORE for one, like, all of it. This is where I post 4K long essays on the specific kind of fungus that grows only in the driest place on a fictional planet, digests rock in order to get nutrients, and feeds an underground ecosystem through the mycelium that bore through the rock and into the networks of underground rivers that exist there and thus is a keystone species for an entire biome. I also post fictional transcripts of drunk history videos with a delightfully crude historical archivist, that tell stories about how a fictional train network got created by a trainwreck of a human being that involves a contest, a technically legal museum heist, the mob, a trained cat, and a disastrously gay aristocrat. And then another about that guy's mob enforcer sister who once killed a man by putting him in a headlock and flexing her bicep and also her absolutely pathetic wimp of a husband who loves his built-like-a-semi-truck wife very much.

That's not even mentioning the extensive articles on my own conlang, including IPA annotations, detailed character descriptions, redacted reports from amoral scientists who are about to greatly regret everything they ever did, and excerpts from an essay on forbidden magic by a scholar from outside the community.

Mind you, almost all of those are in the lower tiers of the patreon, the tiers that you can get for only a handful of dollars a month, yes, a literal handful. I haven't even gotten to the high-tier stuff. Higher-tier rewards include: ability to vote in polls that make me answer spoiler questions, access to secret lore like how the magic in this world works and what occult elements are at play in the story, and even creating a character together with me if you really decide to be insane with the money you throw at me. I've already done this once and it was great fun to create Sol with someone, an absolute unit of a black lesbian fighter pilot with the soul of a gentle giant.

With all levels though, you also do this: you support my ability to write, and keep writing, as I begin to plan out my own original fiction ideas and further career steps into becoming a published writer. You support my ability to experiment with my writing style, my interests, and help me keep my head above water in a world that's increasingly hostile to artists and writers. You support my ability to live a small, comfortable life that lets me create wonder and magic in a world that desperately needs some of that.

And, as I promised above, even if you don't want to, or simply can't give anything (Gods know that everyone is struggling to get by these days) then it's still worth looking at the public-facing page, because instead of boring-ass tier descriptions, I gave each tier a little blurb of text that is a part of a larger, fragmentary story of Keshiro, Storm Wraith's, last great adventure before he left the Desert. It's a story that currently only exists in said blurbs, but is planned to be written out in full, and when it is, it will, of course, be posted for free on Ao3, no caveats or strings attached. Until then... give it a read. Tell me what you think. I'll see you there.

The link to my patreon page, see what you think.

#the guides verse #guides verse #patreon #guides lore

65 notes · View notes

asheanon · 1 year ago

Text

So, uh... I stated over on the Xitter how I wanted to go on a Dissidia (personal story/fanfic - yes, it includes OCs and original material. This is Ashe writing this, after all) tangent so badly, but hate fighting with text limitations with these sorts of things, so here I am, hopping over to Tumblr to go on said tangent. 🕺

(Tangent placed beneath a cut. Proceed with caution! Maybe.)

⚠️ Disclaimer for those who have played the game: I'm still experiencing the game. I'm not going to know everything. I just can't help but feel the inspiration blaze through me at certain points throughout the Dissidia OO experience, which compels my mind to take off with thoughts galore (whether or not I want it to. I can't control this brain of mine; it's like a wild animal sometimes, trust me!) I am inspired af, but please keep in mind I could be incorrect about certain bits of lore and still have a lot to experience - and I am fully aware of that even in writing this out.

Also, no spoilers. NONE. Furnish me with the informations only if I ask. If I'm wrong about something, I promise I'll concede that when I later find out about it. For now, this is just me having fun. Let me have fun. I'm just getting all these thoughts out of my head before they drive me crazy...! Hahaha!

Anyway, sorry. That disclaimer may or may not be longer than the tangent itself. Onto the actual tangent!

💭

So...! 🤔 Given how there's a tiny bit of "wibbly wobbly timey whimey" stuff going on with how characters are brought in, if you will, I can't help but to think about some wacky situations that may make for some neat story potential…

I'm going to start with the more "conservative" thoughts. Thoughts on characters from the same world being pulled in from different parts of their own respective timeline, so you have different sections of experiences and memories to play with.

Particularly (spoilers): Sal experienced the deaths of some particular characters who are not only alive, but they were brought in from a time where they had not died. She has a lot of memories about them that they have yet to experience.

When all of this is over, she's going to return to a world where they're no longer alive. And she has that good ol' fun time looming over her. : )

Which, as tragic as that is, I do dig that kind of narrative - I mean, to boot: I dig it, but I started realizing that it was one I'd worked with before, even... it was one she experienced in The Anomaly (FFVII x Original fanfic.) Of course, the moment I realized that, I was like "how original, Ashe. Good. Guess we'll do this song and dance again because you can't resist it, clearly." Haha!

BUT... it was then that I had the less "conservative" thoughts... Namely: since all this "wibbly wobbly timey whimey" stuff is happening anyway, what if... I didn't just inject Starlight (FFIX x Original) material in this, but also injected The Anomaly material? What if both of those stories were allowed some agency in this?

And by extension, what if the Sal (the Sal, you read that correctly) that is brought in has only experienced one of those stories (Starlight, because I'm biased at this time) while the characters from the other story (The Anomaly) experienced a different version of her than what is present? They met her (some rendition of her.) She never met them (that version of her never did.)

Again, reminder: Sal is a world hopper. For her to be part of any given FF world in this type of FF scenario is really just a matter of chance. Technically speaking, she has experienced at least two of those worlds - in different timelines, but given that there is only one Sal present... I was utterly delighted by the oddity of just picking one rendition of her to have amidst the wild and random chance that the renditions of the FFIX and FFVII worlds/characters have characters that both experienced her and didn't.

🤔

It's so weird and self indulgent on my part, I know. I get it. (It's also my own little Dissidia-esque excuse for being able to include some FFVII OCs and story beats from various perspectives, haha!) I literally cannot resist thinking about it in all of its weird and self indulgent glory, though. I cannot be stopped. 🥴

Even if I don't use the idea, I'm still going to think about it, you know? And talk about it too, apparently. Haha!

All of that being said, though, I have entertained the thought of Sal's actual "world" (the original one - not just her inclusion in fanfics) being included in Dissidia as well. This would include characters like Nat, Tsuniah and, well, Vance. This guy.

I'd talk more about what makes the inclusion of Vance and different timelines + funky memory loss stuff going on especially fascinating (to me) here, but it really... wouldn't make sense to the rest of you. It's all original stuff; story I know and have yet to tell the rest of the world, so... yeah. 🥲 But there's potential in that too that I'd love to play around with!

In that respect, between the Dissidia shenanigans and Fall To The Moon ones, should I ever actually manage to write out some story stuff for them, I may yet instill some intrigue in regards to who he is along with these other OCs of mine. Create my own Dissidia effect - basically, compel people to want to get to know them outside of AUs and fanfics (because Dissidia OO makes me want to get to know characters I have yet to get to know, let me tell you. Haha!)

Anyway... Lawdy, I'd say that's a good ol' tangent right there. That'll do it, for now. To anyone and everyone who stopped by to read this... madness... thank you. I hope it was entertaining, otherwise, sorry I wasted your time...! 😅

Until next time.

🌌 😎👆👉

-Moonwalks back into The Twilight Zone.-

#and now for something completely different 🏃‍♂️#🌠 Ashe Anon | Dissidia AU 💎#midnight musings 🌃#Sal 🌌🎹#filling the void 🌌#with #a wild tangent #of the Dissidia OO-inspired variety #sorry for the insanity #you're also welcome for the insanity #whichever applies #🕺#🐌📖

8 notes · View notes

pricechecktranslations · 2 years ago

Note

I have a question. Not about the lore but about mothy himself. Was it always his intention to create the massive universe that is the evillious chronicles by intentionally releasing everything out of chronological order or did he just decide to expand upon it after realizing how popular Daughter and Servant of Evil became? By no means am I trying to question mothy’s ability at world building or overall writing cause it is clever. I’m just genuinely curious if this was his plan all along or if it was an afterthought once he realized the potential of expanding on his story.

I don't recall where it's explicitly said (I believe he makes remarks in an interview or on his blog somewhere, but I don't remember the specifics on where), but to my understanding mothy's work is a mix of pre-planned ideas and writing by the seat of his pants. He did not start with all of Evillious in his head--it was only around Re_Birthday or so that he was actively working on making a big, interconnected series, rather than standalone songs. Though I'm sure he already had some of these ideas before then, by and large the story developed as he wrote it, and he probably was bolstered by the success of Daughter of Evil in doing so.

The early Evillious songs are pretty self-contained narratives, so chronology feels a bit irrelevant. Yes, Lunacy of Duke Venomania takes place before Evil Food Eater Conchita in the timeline--but what does that matter? The two songs have nothing to do with each other except that they take place in Evillious. You can understand one without the other. That's less true of his late songs in the series (like Master of the Heavenly Yard), but early on, he probably just wrote the stories by order of which ones interested him. I don't think it was always a deliberate choice in the beginning.

That's not to say Evillious had no planning at all--there's clearly reveals he must have planned years in advance, and he has stated that he does create extensive outlines when writing the novels. But I don't think he had a roadmap in mind when he first started making songs, no.

Anyway--I'm not mothy, so take all this with a grain of salt.

#one of the things that makes evillious' success so impressive is that mothy began largely as a random niconico user #who was experimenting with a new (at the time) vocaloid #he wasn't a writer by trade #he was a salaryman who happened to like books video games and manga #and was passionate about making music

26 notes · View notes

khronysus · 2 years ago

Text

The Magnus Archives SCP AU

This has been in my drafts for over two years. There was a point where this au was not buzzing around in my mind and I lived in blissful peace. but the circle of stupidity is complete so woe tma scp au upon ye.

(As a disclaimer: I am more of a casual fan of SCP so sorry for any like,, stuff that seems out of wack in regards to SCP lore. Also I recently watched a video on the Ouroboros cycle so I’m drawing a lot of inspo from it. This is just a cleaned up version of rambling I did at 12am on Discord so. If stuff seems to jump around that’s why lmao) (Future aside: fun fact I only just read the entirety of the Ouroboros cycle this past year lmao)

Elias is O5-1, “The Founder”, and is, himself, an anomaly since he also does the body hopping stuff like canon. As an O5 member, no one can really do anything about it.

Gertrude was the previous Site Director of Site-14 (I just chose this number bc it’s the only number i can think of tied to TMA (14 fears) and I don’t know enough about SCP to know if it’s a significant site in any prominent SCP lore so if it is. oops.) and, alongside her site director duties, she was working with the Global Occult Coalition looking into the possible SCP status of some of the O5s but surprise, surprise, her post is found covered in her blood so she’s declared dead (despite no body ever being found). At this discovery, one Jonathan Sims is appointed as the new site director of Site-14, despite most likely not being the most qualified for the job, but O5-1 said so and you can’t really argue with the O5 council...

Site-14 probably specializes in reality benders and Euclid entities. Including SCP-[redacted] “Web Table”, SCP-[redacted] “Orsinov’s Doll”, and a couple artifacts connected to The Church of the Broken God. (Future aside: I have since changed SIte-14 to be more of an archival site that also happens to have some spill over safe class anomalies & a couple cooperative type greens (read: Khro likes some avatars and wants them kicking around the SIte). Oh also I have actual numbers for anomalies now but. Don’t feel like putting them here)

Sasha is the lead researcher on “Web Table” and most likely specializes in cases related to [GOI that’s the equivalent to The Web] and Dr. Wondertainment (by extension probably The Factory as well). I chose these bc of Sasha’s connection to the web table in canon and, since she’s literally researching it in this AU, it just makes sense if she were already knowledgeable of these groups when she was placed as head researcher (though it wouldn’t be surprising if O5-1 put her on the case with 0 knowledge just to have some Fun). (Future aside: I forgot entirely that I did this with Sasha. Her role is slightly different now. But this is interesting so I’ll let it float around here)

Tim specializes mostly in things related to Herman Fuller’s Circus of the Disquieting (which for this AU just. consumed The Circus of the Other. Either they’re one in the same or they work together but all of Orsinov’s troupe is being shoved into this GOI) (Future aside: I know nothing about this GOI still so any writing I do about it is probably just gonna make it The Circus of the Other lmao). Tim may be lead researcher on “Orsinov’s Doll” (who is Nikola) or Nikola may still be out and about with the circus. Tim is the newest member of everyone to the entire foundation, having only been recruited in 2012 at the earliest. So it probably doesn’t make sense for him to already be a lead researcher on something with so little experience with the Foundation as a whole but... let’s just say O5-1 is having Fun. (Future aside: Tim is not the newest recruit anymore. That’s all you’re getting out of me for now)

Martin specializes in anomalies connected to The Church of the Broken God (since I see TCotBG as being something like what a cult/group connected to The Extinction would be like) and he researches and tracks what the church is doing and such. I’m still not entirely sure why he would be recruited by the Foundation if his canon backstory is kept more or less the same

Hi, future Khro again: I am currently writing a fic for this so. a heem heem. Anyway, as past me said at the beginning, this is just cleaned up ramblings. I’ve been thinking about it & writing a lot more recently so things have changed but I thought it would be a good idea to post this draft bc. It’s been haunting me. for two years. so enjoy <3 (also the tags are all from when i originally wrote this but i still think theyre interesting concepts i may expand upon at a later time)

#the magnus archives #tma #scp #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #timothy stoker #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #gertrude robinson #tma scp au #i also had an alternate version where tim sasha and jon are field agents looking for anartists #martin georgie and melanie are all anartists apart of the same group (either AWCY? or a specific one for the au)#hee yawing

18 notes · View notes

infinitewarden · 3 years ago

Text

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of your ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

#theus.exe #lore.exe #osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny spoilers #long post

88 notes · View notes

honeysidesarchived · 3 years ago

Text

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

euphemia volpe has never wanted for very much; a safe place to sleep, a soft place to land. to love someone, and be loved back. she has all of those things now, but it's most unfortunate for her that she has fallen in love with a man who will never be satisfied with what he's got.

pt. i: contact is crisis

words: 3.3k

warnings: language, some depictions of a relationship that is not entirely healthy, extensive use of my very basic knowledge of italian (padded with google translate, thank you google!), and an unfortunate amount of endearments and pet names. this does not deviate from john wick chapter 2's canon ending, so please bear in mind this will contain major character death.

rating: m for mature language ??? probably closer to t, but will change later on.

notes: as some of you may know, this has been (unfortunately) sitting on my drive since i first watched john wick chapter two almost a year ago--maybe over a year! i can't remember. all i remember was seeing santino and going "SOMEONE has got to kiss that man". so you know, here i am. this short-fic (only a few, short parts) will take place over the span of the events of john wick chapter 2. yes i built some tiny amount of lore for the camorra. yes i had the opportunity to write a fix-it fic and did not. no i am not taking criticism at this time !

special uber big thank you to my beta and my wifey @starcrier who read this a year ago and when i casually said, "hey, so what if i posted this" told me to do it. also @faithchel, who through the occasional sly prompt slid in from ask games (i see you) has been a true angel while i sort through this, and equally as encouraging!

and of course thank you to you all, who read this. i know this is not the usual content you followed me for but i appreciate you all the same. <3

“I cannot believe that I will marry a man so stupid.”

Euphemia is practically frothing at the mouth, she’s so mad; she storms into the chic New York loft, tossing her purse onto the nearby counter, her heels clipping against the polished floor decisively. It’s late; the silk slip of a dress draped across her body brushes the floor in a sweeping train, and she balances herself on the counter with one hand while she steps out of the stilettos with the assistance of the other.

“Euphie, luce della mia vita,” Santino says, striding in after her and completely at ease. He is, infuriatingly, as he always is; perfectly composed, his dark curls in place and his suit immaculate. Euphemia eyes him through the mirror of her vanity as he sidles up behind her. “We’re not married yet, princesa, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Luce della mia vita,” Euphemia drawls mockingly. She drips the words in honey on the way out of her mouth, sliding a dainty, glittering bracelet from her wrist and dropping it on the counter. “You sound like a fucking idiot, Santi.”

His gaze darkens, but his voice is still silky when he says, “Watch your tone, cara mia.”

“What for?” Euphemia thinks she wouldn’t be able to watch her tone even if she wanted to; not anymore, not with this hanging over her head. She turns to stare at her fiancé, pressing her index finger to his chest. “You’re going to get killed by Baba Yaga anyway. No point in behaving myself, is there? Idiota.”

“Euphemia.”

“You leave John Wick alone, Santino,” she bites out. “You don’t ask for a thing from him. Of him. About him. I don’t want John Wick near my life.”

Santino grabs her wrist, the hand with the engagement ring sitting on it—snatches it out of the air like a cobra striking, grips it with hands that usually are much kinder.

“Everything that you have now is a gift from me,” he warns her, voice pitched low. “You like your nice engagement ring? Your nice dresses? This nice loft we live in?”

His fingers grip, nearly bruising; these are the only times that he doesn’t handle her with care, that his elegant fingers don’t splay against her skin reverently—when she’s pissed him off.

“I’ve given it all to you, all of these things, this life that you like having and don’t want John Wick near, so I would suggest watching your tone for that.”

There is a brief moment where Euphemia thinks she might finally, right now, resort to the violence of slapping Santino in the face. The threat is not lost on her; it’s Santino’s favorite thing to do when he’s angry. And for her to commit an act of violence against her fiancé would be unthinkable almost every other time, in any other situation. Euphie would not have considered it in the least, but there are times—on occasion—where she thinks for a second that she doesn’t recognize him; that he’s become some amalgam of all of the men who have grabbed her too hard or told her she owes them. Men who have used her meanly.

And Santino has divulged his plan to push John Wick for a favor.

So, yes: she thinks she might, but then her hand is moving of her own volition, sliding the engagement ring off of her finger and stuffing it into his jacket pocket, the more pacifist choice than what her mind is screaming for her to do.

“You have never had nothing, Santi,” she says, biting out the words, “so allow me to enlighten you; I have had nothing before you, and I will be just fine having nothing again.”

His eyes narrow, gemlike slits that sit heavy on her. She yanks her wrist of his grip and says, “And it is a good thing we are not married, si? A divorce would have been so messy.”

“Euphie,” Santino says in a sigh that lacks venom, as though he weren’t just threatening to take everything from her, as though she were the hysterical one, “don’t fuss.”

Don’t fuss, he says, because Santino has only ever had women before that bend themselves over backwards until they break for him; don’t fuss, he says, because he likes and maybe loves her, she thinks, but he doesn’t like or love when she talks back. Santino has always had someone to wait on him, to serve him, and Euphemia has never seen his parents together but she would that his only vision of marriage is that of a subservient, dutiful, loving wife.

“Oh, but my darling,” she coos, very undutiful and decidedly not subservient, “I wouldn’t want you to have to worry about all of the nice things you give me. You can enjoy them all yourself, for the brief time before Baba Yaga kills you for asking him to do a job he does not want to do, when he has announced his retirement.”

It’s a terrible way to feed the monster inside of her. That monster is a pusher, a puller, the kind that picked and chipped away at Santino until he lost that shred of his manicured control and gave her something, anything she could work with. It was impossible to love a man who was so buttoned up there was nowhere for her to put her love.

His expression tightens in the way that she recognizes as his controlled fury; bottling it, merchandising it, saving it for later. Santino is not incapable of killing his sister himself, but for some reason—a reason that Euphemia is sure is only known to him—he won’t. Some stupid shit about blood and family, probably.

“Take the ring back.” Santino’s voice is smooth, belying the danger lurking just beneath. He fishes the engagement ring out of the pocket of his suit jacket, where she’d dropped it, and picks up her hand again; this time, his fingers don’t grip with bruising force, but cradle. Euphemia thinks she might have pushed him, then, right to the line, because his eerie calm is unsettling as his fingers meticulously slide the engagement ring back into place.

He says, “There, you see? This is where your engagement ring belongs and will stay. Here, on your hand. Just like this is where you belong and will stay—here, with me.” His hand comes up to her face; she turns away, and he catches her chin and forces her to look back at him.

“You know I will get you anything you want,” Santino murmurs, “but you have to ask.”

Nicely, is the implied word. A good fiancé, a good wife, wouldn’t storm out of the car after he mentions John Wick in passing, ripping through the loft, calling him names. She knows all of this and she thinks, then maybe I’m not a good anything.

But she can tell when she’s pushed Santino’s buttons just enough—enough to make a point, and not enough to incur his wrath. Not entirely.

“Please, Santi,” she says, her voice still hard but softer than it was before, and already Santi is shaking his head so she plunges on recklessly, “do not cash in John Wick’s debt to you. Ascoltami, I know you—I know you will do something to put yourself and John Wick on opposite sides of the playing field.”

Santino’s gaze is sharp and clear. He drops his hand from her face, shrugging, and says, “So what? I will be playing chess, and John Wick will be playing checkers. You worry too much, Euphie.”

“What you mean to say is that I think before I act.”

He shrugs, and threads his fingers through her hair, reaching up with the other to brush loose strands of it from her eyes. He rumbles pleasantly, “Don’t you trust me?”

Euphemia grits her teeth. Her hands come up to grip his wrists, watching him with a prickle of dread in her chest. “Don’t you trust me, Santi?”

Santi’s gaze darkens. Like that, he drops his hands from her, tucking them into the pockets of his slacks as he turns and wanders further into the bedroom, taking all of his warmth with him and leaving Euphie to marinate in the cold glow of the vanity’s lights.

“You can say no,” she says after him, frustrated. “You don’t have to keep an air of mystery about it.”

“What do I do then, tesora?” Santino demands, turning to look at her from the foot of the bed where stands. “Kill her myself? You know I can’t. You know that you cannot ask me to do that.” A pause, and then, with an added air of entitlement: “And Wick owes me.”

There are complicated feelings wrapped up in the whole of it, she knows; Santino, who wants what his sister was given, but cannot bring himself to end her. Euphemia, who only wants Santino, who doesn’t care if he has a seat at the High Table or if he’s a sister-killer or not, who only wants him to look at her longingly like he did when they first met, just for forever instead of a brief moment in time.

And both of them, intrinsically linked, because Santino isn’t wrong when he says that he’s given her everything she has now and Euphemia isn’t wrong when she says she would be okay with nothing again.

She doesn’t ask it of him; he is right, that she can’t, that she wouldn’t. Gianna has only ever been kind to her, at least face to face, and if Santi’s sister had any reservations about Euphemia, then Euphie would find herself in a completely different situation. Not engaged to the only other heir to the D��Antonio empire, that was for certain.

Instead, then, she says, “I cannot ask you to do it, you’re right. I cannot ask you to do it, and I cannot keep you, and I cannot throw you away, Santino. I was less tired when I had nothing.”

She turns away and walks herself into the bathroom, fingers trembling as she undoes the delicate zipper of the gold dress, letting it pool at the floor in a whisper of fabric. The engagement ring sits heavy on her hand. It’s beautiful—and just what she wants, and also the thing that she fears the most, because she doesn’t know what it means to Santino and only what it means to her.

“Euphie.”

His voice comes from the doorway of the bathroom. She turns on the hot water in the tub, a beautiful porcelain clawfoot that she picked herself. It was one of the first things that Santino gifted to her, the first essence of her in the loft that is now almost entirely half-and-half the two of their tastes.

Euphemia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what to say, so she ties up her hair and shimmies out of the last of her clothes. She can feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to flower into submission and turn around and beg, oh, please Santino, forgive me, but he should know better because she has never and will never do that for him.

“Cara mia.”

“Do not.” Euphemia’s voice wobbles. She slides into the bathtub before it’s full, the water stinging her skin where it touches. “I can’t stand to hear your voice saying sweet things to me when you are willingly walking yourself into your grave.”

“You are being a little dramatic.” He makes his way over to her, kneeling down beside the porcelain tub, ghosting his fingers over her forehead and then the bridge of her nose, fluttering in a way that treasures her and causes her grief all at once. “Just one job, Euphie. That’s all I’m going to ask of him. And then it’s done, and you won’t have to be worried about the Boogeyman.” The pads of his fingers dip into the hot water and then skim along the slope of her collarbone, raising goosebumps on her skin. “And John Wick, whose lifelong peace you are very concerned about, can go back to his dog and his car.”

Euphemia thinks, it’s never just that, with you, because she knows Santino—she knows he’s hungry, has always been hungry, a boy magicked into a man’s skin all hurt and needing and starved, unable to inhibit himself properly. No self-preservation telling him when to stop, never telling him when enough is enough. Not really.

I see you, though, she thought, her gaze flickering over Santino’s face to trace the handsome lines of his expression. She would have never agreed to marry a man before she saw him without his face off; without knowing the monster underneath.

But while she knows this, and she sees Santino D’Antonio for what he really is, she is an idiot and a fool and loves a man sick with the magic of his own perceived destiny, a destiny he believes he is owed, so she says softly, “Promise me, Santi.”

“On my life,” Santino replies with that boyish charm she knows so well. He speaks as though he is not going to leave her in the morning to visit Baba Yaga, as though she doesn’t fear he won’t ever come back. “Now give me a kiss, princesa.”

“I mean it, Santino—”

“I do, too.” He cocks his head to the side. “I won’t ask twice.”

Euphemia acquiesces; not because she fears what he’ll do if he does feel he has to ask twice—because he does hate that—but because as much as she says she would be happy to have nothing again, she is content to bask in the something that she has now, while she has it.

She kisses the corner of his mouth. He slides his damp fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and says, “Do you love me?”

“Of course.” Her voice feels rough with an emotion she doesn’t want any of. “Of course, Santi, that’s why I—”

“All I need is a yes or no, my little fox, not an essay.”

Her eyes narrow. She turns her face from him; he shifts his position at the end she’s leaned against, dragging his hands along her shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles. Her body reacts instinctively to him. She is a long cry from the girl scamming rich men out of their wallets and time, but there are some things she is still weak to; touch, the acknowledgment that she has a body, that she is real, to be reassured that she is alive.

Santino is so very good at that. He leans over the end of the tub and kisses her cheek, fingers working into the knots of her shoulders.

I am so afraid, she thinks, her eyelashes fluttering shut. I am so afraid that I will never see old age on you.

“Tesora.” His voice is a lull. Pulling her back in, pushing her back under, reminding her that to relinquish herself to someone is a luxury she does not want to go without anymore. To let someone else take control, to not have to worry about making decisions all the time; this is something that she always wants.

“Yes,” Euphie says, “of course I love you, Santi.”

She can feel his smile against her cheek.

“Good girl.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tell me your favorite words.”

It’s both early and late; the clock’s cool blue numbers are keeping her awake; Santi’s hand slides along the curve of her hip admiringly above the silk of her nightdress, and his nose brushes the bump at the base of her neck. Euphemia shifts. When she does, the edge of her engagement ring catches on the silky pillowcase, but she doesn’t care—it will always do that, because Santi won’t pick another and Euphie won’t ask him to.

Goosebumps prickle along her skin with the air conditioning, cranked as high as she likes, whispers across it when her shoulder slides out from underneath the comforter. She rolls over to look at him. It’s unsurprising that he’s still awake, and he doesn’t look surprised to see she’s awake, either.

“My favorite words?” she prompts. Santino brings his hand to her face, his thumb dragging absently along her lower lip.

“Si,” he replies. “You are always reading. You can speak a few languages. You must have favorite words, no?”

His request does bring a smile to her face, tired as it is. They may have spent the rest of their waking evening wandering around each other like wounded dogs, wary and licking their wounds, but they are here now, together, in their bed.

Euphie says, “It is late, Santi.”

“And I cannot sleep.” He brushes his nose along her jawline. “But perhaps the soothing voice of my one greatest love will lull me.”

She laughs. Her hand finds his, their fingers interlacing, woven together. He pulls back from her and kisses the engagement ring, but he is waiting. He means it.

“Tendresse,” Euphemia says, the word rolling soft out of her mouth from misuse. Santino quirks a brow expectantly and kisses the pulse point of her wrist. “Tenderness.”

He nods sagely. Against the soft skin of the inside of her wrist, he murmurs, “You are a most tender creature, Euphemia D’Antonio.”

Her fingers slide out of his, running along the slope of his cheekbones and then the bridge of his nose. “That is Euphemia Volpe. If you’ll recall, we’re yet to be married.”

Santino leans in, captures her fingertips playfully with his teeth, and then kisses her palm with a warm, rich chuckle that sends pleasant heat spiraling down her spine. “You will never forget that I was fool enough to say that to you, will you?” he asks. “Tell me another.”

His eyes are just as warm as his voice, and twice as earnest. In these moments, Santino is the most charming; boyish and quick-witted, unburdened by the elements of the world, by his own desires. He thinks of nothing except them. Euphemia feels like she’s in her own little world with him, in their bedroom at three in the morning, while the air conditioner whirrs and ticks and he asks her something so unimportant, like what her favorite words are.

And then, Santino leans in and kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and the underside of her jaw to prompt her.

“Amore,” she murmurs, feeling like the breath has been sucked out of her lungs by his longing. His tenderness.

“Oh,” Santino says, against her temple, “I know that one.”

When his stubble tickles her neck, she squirms, shifting away from him so hat she can take a breath; but he chases her, leans in and captures her in his arms so that he can nose the hair by her ear and kiss there.

“Euphie, my gorgeous girl,” he says in the way that wrenches her heart; drenched and drowned in adoration. “Perfetto e tutto mio.”

Santino wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest, his fingers tracing constellations on her back where the night dress slips away from her shoulder blades. Sweet Santi, covetous Santi; she is his greatest art piece, his favorite collector’s item, and in these moments she has never felt more treasured. There is something equal parts safe and selfish in wanting someone to treasure you.

“Say it for me, Euphie. You know I love when you do.”

She buries her face into his neck. Her eyes burn. He will go to Baba Yaga tomorrow, and she will have to pretend not to know, or it will wreck her. Euphie considers ways to keep him in bed in the morning; delay him, make him forget about John Wick and this glory that he is chasing forever.

“Sono tuo,” she murmurs. Tears sting at the corners of her eyes If he feels them against his skin, Santino makes no indication than to card his fingers through her hair. “Always, Santi.”

Always, always, always yours.

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio x oc #santino d'antonio / oc #spilled ink #c: euphemia volpe #c: santino d'antonio #i have nothing to say for myself except thanks and ily all <3 #scheduled post #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

49 notes · View notes

lochnessies · 3 years ago

Note

genuine question: how much do you think 3H fandom's issues fall down to basic media illiteracy, like the concept of unreliable narrators, character arcs or framing? because like.

"dimitri bad!" yes, he is condemned for this in his own route and he has a character arc to grow and change. he doesn't do this in the other 3 routes bc in one he is fine and the other 2 he is dead because his original thought process literally got him killed and he could only succeed once he abandoned it. it is almost like. this was the point. why even bring it up, we know that he did bad things. we played AM and understood the narrative being told, you see

honestly, in my personal opinion, most of the fandom’s problems come from this. now the game’s structure and writing itself isn’t free of blame but it would be disingenuous to place all of it on intsys.

and usually (don’t come for me for saying this bc i know someone will) these literacy issues come from a certain section of the 3h fanbase. once again, it would be disingenuous of me to place full blame on she-who-must-not-be-named’s stans but it is undeniable that there is a common denominator with their arguments.

i wouldn’t even chalk it up to them not knowing about unreliable narrators, character arcs, and framing bc they’ve shown that they do know with their analyses. for example:

seteth is an unreliable narrator because he says edelgard wants to make herself a false goddess when she clearly doesn’t

byleth has a character arc when they go from a cold mercenary to a human in crimson flower

crimson flower can’t be a villain route because the overt tones are saying you are the heroes

now these are surface level observations that are completely false but the fact that they are used shows that they are aware of these narrative devices.

i think the problem lies in their attachment to you-know-boo. they can’t possibly fathom that their little princess actually is the one you can’t trust and that her words are worth less than tana mongeau’s cryptocurrency. that everybody other than edelgard goes through a negative character arc. that the reason the cf tones are positive is bc of the ignorance theme but if you know the lore you see the cracks

the framing of white clouds is that the church is this evil shadow over fodlan and edel is this trailblazer that will forge a new dawn for fodlan. you see her laugh, cry, and be a teenage girl. then there’s the big twist in the holy tomb where you are forced to come to terms that you were just played like a fiddle. edel may still be a cute teenage girl but she’s also a liar, a terrorist, and an enemy to peace. however, since byleth is effectively a blank slate, you don’t get this internal dialogue and in the heat of the moment the player is most likely going to side with her.

then you get to crimson flower where everything edelgard did or was complicate in is swept under the rug and never mentioned again. the assassination attempt? flayn’s kidnapping? remire? the western church? her weird ass dad? it might as well have never happened so the player forgets about it.

so when they get involved in meta and the fandom they’re doing it from an edelgard centric view. she’s the one who’s right and everybody else is unreliable. edelgard goes through a character arc and dimitri and rhea are just lunatics. crimson flower is a brilliant dawn so how dare you insinuate that there’s something rotten in the state of denmark?

then there’s the fact that cf, and by extension edelgard, simply appeals to a more self righteousness mindset. now i’m not saying everybody who likes her has their head up their own ass, but if you go to places like r/edelgard it’s just a circle jerk of people stroking each other’s egos and talk of how everybody else is too simple minded to understand how complex edelgard and her motives are [enter zero escape meme here]. you’ll also find the same on tumblr and twitter but they’ll probably call you a sexist or homophobe or some other buzzword that has lost all meaning at this point.

they’ll continue talking and badgering you and flood comments, notes, and forums on ‘why edelgard is clearly the best and why can’t you just see it’ until everybody is exhausted and leaves. they’ll then strut around like they won an argument and are valid in their opinions bc nobody is arguing with them anymore.

so yeah, they’re 100% aware of these devices it’s just that a mix of bad structure, superficial meta, willful ignorance despite the evidence to the truth, and in some occasions just a personality flaw that has created this never ending nightmare we know as the fe3h fandom.

#this is just from my personal experience. what do y’all think?#asks

29 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 2 years ago

Text

oh lmfao edited to add. the thirty tags are maxed out but i have to work in the wordplay of: call this post-it notes

speaking of [happening to think about, then for a separate reason talk about, the film “stand by me,” an adaptation of the stephen king short story “the body”] last night, & tumblr ads reminding me, i did turn around after listening to the podcast ep extensive, research enhanced analysis / discussion of specifically the book like hey yeah yknow what. i’ll watch the It films; not the miniseries / the one with tim curry, which i saw the first half of but wasn’t really inspired to commit to the latter half. and you Know like yeah i’m truly interested in the choice to build on [stephen king kicking his legs like “whaaat are some Problems kids could have.....um being a girl.....being jewish.....having a stutter.....”] with “what if someone was gay or some shit” like yeah right on, which idk that steve ever wrote into any vaguely primary characters even though it’s markedly made textually relevant. and the cultural alignment for kleinsen enjoyers is still very funny. i forgot about even the arm cast business till halfway through. even the [break it again] joke kind of manifested lmao

anyways the point is i’m like, my two primary modes of [this experience] being expressed via [mad men meme In The Cinema seriously considering the material] and [the shot of that guy in the alternate titanic ending where he’s like ahahahaha throwing his head back and the camera is overhead zooming out a little bit] and the like Oh Hey. This Is All Coming Together? kind of [that madman cinema meme] moment hit in The Second Part because it’s like, it’s Remarkable for a stephen king story to have Adults Who Are Friends. which is where it can be cross referenced with Stand By Me, which is about kids who are friends, but Framed by like, this story is written in the future by the main kid, who wanted to be a writer & now is, mostly about his friendship with this one other kid who was like “hey man you can & should be a writer. believe” and that classic [stephen king High Concept stories] central plot impetus / definition which is “the one where some kids go on a trek to find/see a dead body” and then ending with Adult Main Kid with that classic / standout remark “i never had any friends like the ones i had when i was twelve. god, does anyone?” which is included even in the film via seeing him type it out on bulkier ye old computer terminals while his kid is now twelvish i guess and talking to a friend. after also musing on like, yeah that bestie who hyped me up the most and who i saved in turn, with a gun, tragically died. iunno where those other two kids in the group are, living kind of underwhelming lives out there probably but whatever. lmfao like man i dunno write them a letter, call them, you could do a little digging here and get in touch. but yeah it’s not gonna be Exactly The Same as when you were kids, nor exactly the same as it was when things aligned to have a brief but dramatic adventure, nor when you Could just all spontaneously decide you wanna go walking & camping to find a body & then just up & do that. but like, you can consciously make & maintain friendships i prommy my man lol. like “it’s great when things align so you Happen to have these friends when you’re twelve and you all like offer each other emotional support and can understand each other like nobody else can. but then you Will all just drift apart” like, i mean, will you. you can have friendships beyond what you just Happen to have / hope that the magic alignments will just continue falling into place for you so that those friendships still exist

and probably part of it is that it’s really mostly About the two kids who are friends even though there’s four of them, i.e. the protagonist & the moral support bestie, as well as the fact that this is a short story so there’s presumably only so much time to focus on characters at all really or delve into any setup and bg lore and whatever all else, i dunno. but thinking how it’s like, oh hey, in It it’s kind of its own serendipitous alignment of elements there to be like, here’s a group of adults where it’s peak relevant that they’re friends, for once. because afaik that really just doesn’t happen in sking stories, like, yeah adults kind of have friends but it’s Not Very Deep / it’s just kind of convenience about working together moving plots along & it’s like yeah uh i don’t fucking know i guess we see each other / hang out for dinners or post dinner drinks together or join forces about whatever fucked up shit and just talk about that, mostly....and probably people are just dropping off like flies eventually, the protagonist man of that [sooo many protags who are just some fuckin middle aged guy who’s a writer] type, and it’s also in part just because like, characters don’t really matter that much / have to be particularly distinct / Are Disposable when plenty of the point is to go “was that fucked up or what?” about whatever’s happening, so yknow you go “there was once just some fuckin guy, i dunno, he probably has a wife he’s paternalistically protective of but maybe also resents and maybe a kid or two or something, whatever....” like, being the main character doesn’t really matter, it’s just this avatar through which we are told a story of some fucked up shit and to whomst any fucked up shit can even happen, being other characters also really doesn’t matter

so it’s like huh, stand by me / the body as obviously this Ode To Twelve Year Olds’ Friendship And How Your Emotional Support Of Each Other Defines The Entire Path Of Your Life Though Mostly For The Main Character, Everyone Else Fucked Off Or Whatever like right yeah, but with that difference of how like clearly as an adult this isn’t gonna be about this guy going like “hey yeah where are those still living scamps today,” he’s reminiscing only, he’s talking about how he now doesn’t have any friends like the ones he had when he was twelve....then what changes in It is like, hmm how are these adults where the fact they’re friends actually is peak relevant? how does one remain friends with even Any childhood friends there huh. and then the fact it works out like that is like aha, well it’s because they don’t lmfao. that everyone happens to scatter to the winds at some point when it maybe will eventually rear its head amongst even their own adult guardians like hey, yknow, maybe let’s not live in murderville. or coincidence. whatever. where the point is that like oh also, everyone just magically forgets the goings on as kids including the existence of their friends, but is about to be reminded of them / remember all that, for a specific external reason rather than [adults are like hey let me try getting in touch with that mf] and already plot and magic is relevant to all of this. they’re not going to have gotten together for the shittiest high school reunion if not for the connection of Friendship, this is about adults but it’s about that childhood plotline still, so Twelve Year Olds’ Friendships still stands / is relevant, so we can even fathom these adults having a connection, b/c yes they Didn’t have it as they got older there, but now they’re jumping back into it actually, b/c magic, and because also this is Directly About (Childhood) Trauma which was also like, hey damn, even outside the stephen king oeuvre & its tendencies (solid & wretched), this is also transcending grievances i so often have with Horror, as someone who likes horror and doesn’t like horror but likes horror but doesn’t like it, and just like. questionable employment of [you Are bothering to focus on Character, and their emotional arcs being entirely relevant to the story here] when sometimes it’s like, do you need a story? the strength of horror shorts to just go “was that fucked up or what.” do you need the characters with the emotional arc relevance at all, or is it just a little avatar walking around with enough vague motivation to have / see / make fucked up shit happen? are they particularly characterized to play into some Metaphor, what’s that metaphor, is it shit, is the execution of it shit. and oftentimes Trauma is just like, idk, it’s like well here’s this person’s Weakness, and it being horror that’s more likely to make it into a Fatal Flaw, like way to have trauma you dumbass, if you were so weak as to fail to just get over it already / Overcome it, you just might be killed for it

annoying, shallow and hackneyed, insulting, etc, and it’s also like, the Individual Focused emotional journey like and here this character who’s been weakly propped up by the Stronger people supporting them will have to go through the crucible of being alone, facing down their Issue like their trauma, and getting through it in this big dramatic one and done way so they can finally stop being a pussy and an obstacle to others. or else fuck it up & die. and it’s like do you know how this works lmfao (no) why shouldn’t the support help. why should it Have to go away. why shouldn’t everyone be crowdsourcing their emotional support amongst their group lmao and never needing to “overcome” it Forever, alone. and that’s at least mostly what gets to go on in It lmfao, like, so obviously this is About Childhood Trauma. whereas It = any of the forces that make people act in ways that create, facilitate, or simply passively allow trauma. (or just some shit that really fucks shit up sometimes i guess.) and you have kids who get caught Alone getting got. but then you have a larger group of some twelvish year olds who are like alright fuck this then, and that’s enough to get through it, the same way that naturally in the less magical / more literal realm of their lives, that friend group & joining forces & providing this like actually (relatively) safe and supportive environment amongst themselves is what protects them & makes everyone a lot more of a force to be reckoned with than they are when out / caught on their own. and it just doesn’t happen to be about choosing to write about like, and then all these kids got picked off one by one anyways, despite their efforts, f. which like i guess it could be, but when the Point is so Directly about the emotional support some kids get from each other / that they Are crowdsourcing protection re: their individual vulnerabilities, that wouldn’t really emphasize that Point so much if regardless of the [having a friend group] everyone was fucked anyways. or the fact that like, again, this is About trauma and what can create it and how that can persist and all, the Magic Rules are about the emotional component of it all, when it’s like, oh this just so happens to be a magic murder entity that’s picking off kids but also prefers to torment them and/or like idk takes the route of going “oh you’re gonna hate this” and hooks up their consciousness via usb cable to the zillionth dimension void & then sips their life force through a crazy straw, or, as it would be to clown entities, a normal straw, and i dunno, that if the usb is unplugged vs eternal living death then the torment juice can give people the interdimensional premonition / telepathy across space & probably time shine(tm) like good for them i guess. call that hypervigilance?

and then that like, into the Adults timeline, not only is there this cheat like woops a stephen king story where adults are friends b/c they’ve reconnected the usb cables where the [friends like the ones i had when i was twelve] has now become immediately relevant and active again, i was like, mad man cinema contemplation meme a bit confused going into the second half until i realized some particular fact of the plot And it was slowly like....we’re kind of goofin huh, is this Being Funnier? b/c i mean, the first one wasn’t not ever funny or like otherwise not super solemn & heavy, and also i’m just Used to horror to the point it’s not gonna like bother me probably, i was watching alone and turned off the lights b/c i couldn’t adjust my screen’s lighting levels & the overhead light in here was gonna create glare via the mirror behind me, and i didn’t think anything of it at any point, i had to also be like “@ me, okay stop saying ‘me’ the moment you realize anything [A Scary Moment] is transpiring for no especial reason,” and yknow, it’s like a roller coaster to me, or i’d say like being tickled except actually i hate that one & will start physically fighting lol, where it’s like yeah aaaaaa but it’s fun & i’m Humored really, i’m experiencing the [horror & comedy are two sides of the same coin], when i’m startled or going like oooh that was, to be sure, creepy, it’s still like, ahaha, i’m figuratively tickled, going :] at the screen, i especially liked the same [ooh hehe yeah that’s eerie] type of moments in both halves like yeah very [your standard marble hornets enjoyer] of me....but anyways so then it did take me an extra few moments maybe in the second half like oh is this Markedly More Humorous? oh it is, then....sort of unexpected but then it immediately makes sense and was Fascinating like, oh, this is so In Conversation With the first movie and with the Overall Story here lmao. like, we are illustrating the Perspective Shift, the [kids timeline] is still relevant and defines everything that’s going on, but they Are adults now and That itself is relevant. b/c otherwise it’s like, it Is just the same situation played over again lmfao like damn we were the [kids fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster] and now we’re the [adults fight & defeat a murder sewer clown monster]. and Of Course It Makes Sense for there to be overall more Drama for the kids, who are more so just living & immersed in their normal lives in that storyline, and of course, Are Kids, where like anything “was that fucked up or what” that’d happen would be more intense & threatening, and sure applying that perspective like, not only “yeah i’m just experiencing some media, but if that was really happening in life that’d be fucked up, if it was happening for real to me, i’d be like, whoa uh oh holy shit aaaa” lmao, and then an Additional layer of “and if i was twelve” like “yeah aaaa oh shit” way compounded by that, naturally.

but then i’m Also like, listen, i’d be more like halfway through my 27 yr time jump but i’m the adult with cptsd lmao and so i’m Madmen In The Theatreing because of this angle as well, and intrigued, positively, by the uptick in levity about everything. wherein it’s like okay, it’s sure Also true that like, undo the [and if you were twelve] angle, but The Same kind of fucked up shit happening would of course still be like well this sucks, and is startling, to Anyone who’s an adult, right. But Also like, again the way it’s relevant to touch base with the [kids] timeline, because that’s Defining Everything, this isn’t just “and they’re adults which means everyone’s just tougher than they were when they were kids” and That’s That, it’s like, these are adults who were these specific kids with specific experiences vulnerable to and exposed to bonus trauma, and now this is a “time to jump back in to a head on confrontation with that” plotline but As A Group again rather than this being just the story of like any individuals, or just the main kid/guy, who is now to be sure the [the middle aged writer guy of a stephen king story] lmfao, congrats....and you had [repressed memories but like, magically extensively encompassing] as the device here to as what allows for this outlier scenario of like “but how can adults possibly maintain friendships formed organically in their youth? well, they didn’t lol. but now they’re back.” and the past Has to be relevant and freshly Active because again, this Is directly about trauma lol, not just about whatever broader thing and anyone might secretly have this Hangup or two that’ll get them got. and they all Know this lol, this may be some exclusive knowledge more broadly, but this is Not a secret amongst this group of adults like ah yes my marinating issues that nobody suspects i have....which is a bonus to [even though they’re adults in a stephen king story they don’t all or even mostly have to die] and then like, as i am trying to get around to, that it’d be Different being just any adult approaching this as a new situation to them vs being an adult With Trauma(tm) lol like. the way that one might go “well, this would suck for anyone, but i have a different vulnerability b/c [cptsd involving this shit]” but Then Also the resilience that nobody should have to have and it’s technically a “strength” even though then actually people interpret their [lack of honed ability through direct life experience to cope indefinitely with traumatic experiences] as the strength, a la “wow why’s that person put up with that, i wouldn’t stand for it b/c isn’t it So Clearly Bad & Unpleasant?” victim blaming mentality and people “used” to that shit “putting up with” said shit, which other people would throw up their hands like Wow Just No and walk away from. which in turn isn’t a “weakness” lmao like, there’s no moral judgments to being someone w/trauma or someone without it. that people shouldn’t Have to have cptsd or Resilience, of course, but then that they do. i’m certainly relating to like, yeah it’s Magic Rules / Exaggeration the way that only people young enough can detect & deal with this shit directly, the first time around, and then that they still have access to it as adults presumably b/c of that exposure as kids and because [the childhood trauma doesn’t just Go Away b/c you grew up, even though Also people just think that it ought to or like wow so immature or wow you’re Letting it affect you too strongly still, huh] etc. and anyways, relating to like, yeah enjoyed the way some adults would just be cool & generally supportive, but i also only had so much access to such adults, all Through parents or via school where it’s like, yeah but all the adults there have to Make Sure You’re Behaving Properly in various ways that lead to [punitive] ends and if anyone’s being like particularly supportive / understanding that’s a personal individual choice & they’re probably going Above & Beyond. kind of impressed how useless, and actively unhelpful / counterproductive, any adults were later on when i was dealing with it all the more / had it coming to a head in ways lol, didn’t have an epic friend group i hung out with at twelve or ever who Knew Me that well or i shared anything with or got lifechanging emotional support from, but there Were occasions of like, yeah these peers get it, huh. and now with the perspex of [cptsd having adult] it’s like, yeah, i’d have repeated dreams of parents showing up & i start physically fighting them off with like a shovel and shit lmfao. even now when i rarely have dreams ft. like a more general monster / menacing figure, like i did last night, go figure, Dream Me is always like Oh Okay and immediately physically charges them unarmed lmfao. (also had a dream cameo where some guy on a home computer who was making up like building / engineering schematics? was a Wrole like omg hey buddy. unfortunately a limited interaction, that plot got quickly waylaid by the one where i launch myself at some entity. booo) i can be like “ah, here goes the adrenal response” mostly only noticing sometimes when it’s like, my physical tension has gone to the point of [i can notice my legs/knees shaking], i can also Not Notice It / not think of it b/c you know, it’s like this is truly mundane / everyday shit, in the Relative / Comparative way that it can be. it can be stealth mission time to do some ordinary shit like you live in a survival horror game. it can also go “yeah i could very easily see how if, say, there was this manifestation of trauma / the shit that causes/facilitates/sustains/allows it, i’d go sicko mode on that shit just immediate physical attack” lmao. i know if i’m startled it’s like, that can be a) ordinary, and/or b) unpleasant, and probably c) immediately followed by my being ready to go sicko mode, possibly being a bit pissed off lol. like i can’t even be worried like oh no it’s nighttime what if something was menacing. like yeah that’d be scary and suck, i might get got, i’d also immediately be pissed off like fucking try me you asshole. and it’s like, again the way comedy is A Framework, it’s not what happens when a situation is Lighthearted, Unserious, Frivolous, etc. the like, obvious fact like wow people who are funny can be sad? can have had some fucked up, Serious experiences? can even joke about that? like yeah of course humor can be Deliberately Employed To Cope, including to even communicate about shit, where you’re cueing hard like, i’m not necessarily collapsing under the weight of this right now but it’s a reality and when i’m telling you about it with Humor it’s not in turn asking for you to fix it or even do anything about it at all except be listening to / comprehending the info i’m giving you. and that even looking back on shit can be funny To You because it’s just like, sure Elevated and can be a bit absurd. so it’s like oh yeah of course it’d be funnier, in a way characters are aware of & actively interacting with lmfao. like of course any adult would be like “jesus christ. yikes. aaaa” lol while also being more inclined and able to tackle bullshit right off, but Also being specifically an adult with the [this is your childhood trauma] can be like, yes i’m both still affected by and vulnerable to this shit, but i’m Also less vulnerable than some rando might be, actually, and prepared to / more used to this, and able to go “jesus christ yikes aaaa lmfaooo ahaha” about it. like, i feel that lol.

paragraph break just because that one was getting Extra long: oh and also the matter of Genre Awareness, that this isn’t just some fucked up shit that happens to be scary and fuck your shit up, but this is expressly an antagonist coming after you with the intention to be scary to you, and you Know that, you are aware you’re in a Horror Genre situation lmao, so meta, surely helpful. and sure sometimes i felt the like comedy vs horror; comedy vs drama sometimes didn’t transition perfectly like, my kind of feeling ambivalent at this one point like uhhh is this scene more straightforwardly dramatic? hmm i guess it was. well anyways. but that’s fine, meanwhile continually delighted even to realize like, here we are going over this all again but with this Shifted Perspective / Framework, we’re clearly goofin a bit. and like how i can clap & cheer like ooh yeah that was creepy lmfao, i got Got comedically like idfk dozen times or what all. ahehe....not to mention the [i Am going insane. society] experience of scrungy expression spit take coughing laughter when overlaying [titanic guy going HaHaHaHaHaHaHa XD as the camera lifts away from overhead] upon [mad man serious contemplation of cinema png] while experiencing like wow the gay Text is more textual than i though, more extensive, turns out i had some things to go into entirely afresh without going “oh yeah, i remember what i osmosis’d about this” to then go :0 =0 about, or that i didn’t quite get Everything through osmosising that i did recall, to then spit take about and become titanic guy fifty times over. i Am a bit joker mode, you really just have to be. and laughing about [when stephen king and PPL go “you know this type of guy” and we all go “yeah i guess. i know Of them [possible knowing looks amongst ourselves, or to the camera]” and then they go “you know how they’re—” and then our answers of “maybe like gay or some shit” overlaps with their “just another heterosexual amongst all the rest of us, unless we’re gay, but we’re talking about how all the protagonists we write are cishet i guess?” like. haha. what an alignment, good for everyone in the overlap....oh and i was like ahahaha when the podcast discussion of The Book Specifically nevertheless had one guy knowing the lore already that the stephen king cameo here as Some Secondhand / Pawn Shop Type Place Owner Guy was someone who, in stephe’s (not a typo, making stephe as = steven happen, with particular enunciation of the ph vs v) own written text as the description of That Guy in the book, is like, this gay caricature who is like wearing some mesh or i think they said it said “fishnet” shirt and like clearly reading this gay porn mag. because how else would someone be gay lmfao? how else would you Know you’ve encountered one of them?? lmfao like, a) i also agree with the podcasters who are like, stephe’s a coward for not staying true to that specific description he wrote when cameo’ing as that person, and b) like, people are gay, stephe....but classic matters of [running down a hallway going Noooo and knocking shit down behind you while being chased by [the way stephen king writes about [take your pick] and/or just like, what do you think is going on in life re: [take your pick] exactly, stephen king, i swear] lol)

anyways This has turned into [gif of the guy emphatically pointing at a laptop and also at some unseen listener to this Serious Monologue] because i have endless things to say about anything. the point it it’s like, well hey i think that was remarkably successful re: choosing to have Characters with Emotional Arcs tied to a Metaphor in this horror media, when usually i’m like, the execution of this is so shit that it’s like, just don’t have characters lol, don’t try to make it a metaphor (although you know, difficult for it not to be tied to anything irl, so don’t be unaware of how it Could be), if it’s gonna be this kind of a mess. the fact that like, you can’t have [trauma] be a character weakness fatal flaw that gets them got b/c they weren’t individually Strong Enough, b/c this is All About a) having & interacting with that [trauma] first and foremost and b) how having a group of relationships affects that (helpfully). my pleasant surprise about how like yeah of course you can’t just make the exact same movie again but i wasn’t necessarily expecting a noticeably more outright comedic angle for round two, but duly kinda delighted by it, and that felt very Appropriate and Verisimilitudinous for the new angle of And You’re Completely Grown. that stephen king Rarely writes about relevant friendships and all the more rarely to never writes about relevant friendships between Adults but whoops, that happened here, b/c there was a magical workaround where “drifting apart” was not entirely congruous to the real life literal actual way that’d happen, and b/c the way this is about childhood trauma means that the Rest of that childhood is relevant to adulthood / adult identities, and he ends up with “god, does anyone?” being answered by “yeah, sometimes” lol. and yeah being a deh enjoyer / being haunted byer / analyzer means anytime something is About the connections someone, say a young person for one, might make and how that can be relevant to All Their Issues, i’m sitting up & taking notes like oh ya don’t say. that stephen king shit overall is like, well this is Interesting and i could talk all day but i’m also like, personally more ambivalent and bound to run over like hey stephe i’m shoving you around, bitch. until we form an unlikely, begrudging alliance to instead go after stanley kubrick, then boo the the shining movie, but whatever. the the shining book ending, one of the few things i particularly remember from actually reading that one, is true like, stephen king endings tending to be a hot mess that maybe aren’t super successful but here we are and it was like, why’d it get so goofy all of a sudden lmfao like i’m telling you with the schrodinger’s boiler that’s old and temperamental and if you don’t maintain it it’ll blow up probably, and that the way things end in the book is the [middle aged dime a dozen writer man protag] being possessed by a hotel is like oh fuck me lmfao, not the boiler i can’t maintain myself even though i’m possessing a hotel, it hasn’t been maintained, and then as always in any of these stories things go off the rails and yakety sax starts to play while after hanna barbera cartoon scrambling in place for a second, your haunted hotel avatar starts sprinting to the basement or wherever it was but Too Late, it blows up and the hotel dies kind of. and that’s kinda fun and funny lol but yknow, put it back in. beating up kubrick aside, i’ve seen all of? nigh all of? wasn’t paying much attention. the movie and it’s like oh okay whatever. but as with like [anything stephen king] and my not even being born till the 90s, it’s like, i can’t possibly experience this afresh, we can all agree that surely this is the best known stephen king work b/w book & film adaptation, even among biggies that really just permeate pop culture overall, who can know what i’d think if these things were New and pre [own significant influence on relevant genres / mediums] or also i was a younger reader/viewer at the times as people could often be. but i was like....expression where you scrunch your face up and look to the side like “are you seeing this” bemusement like...this is. fine i guess? it’s not really scary lmfao. and regardless, resurrecting kubrick to beat him up. but on that note it’s also funny that god knows why i ever mentioned the hypothetical of watching the shining once in passing to my mom, it would’ve been humorous / not in earnest b/c no way would i have been suggesting we watch that or even that i had watched it necessarily, so i Think i must’ve just been informing her of some things that were on tv at that moment with some goofy but technically accurate suggestions like that one, and she is a bit indignant like clearly disapproving of the general idea because, as she says, she doesn’t think it’s Right to tell kids they should ever be afraid of their parents. but between “but like. they go axe murder possessed by a hotel mode here, wherein i think it’s very appropriate?” and [someone who watches It and keeps looking into the camera one zillion times / is fascinated by the fact it’s like oh wow, any horror talking about What If You Had Trauma that isn’t like fundamentally misguided throughout and probably egregiously insulting about it] i take a perfectly comedically timed pause and then we freeze frame on my doing a spit take Laugh into my own drink. not actually in the real moment lol, i just Say Nothing and file that one away lmfao

oh and as a little postscript here i want to shoutout my going “just like Watch Your Step in goosebumps the musical the phantom of the auditorium” where it’s like, schrodinger’s warning about how a kid could just up and accidentally die via this trapdoor or like anywhere anytime, but you don’t really realize that b/c you’re kids, but I’m Telling You. and like, he’s right in general to be sure, you can just die, as well as unknowingly right of course like oops yeah some kid did just up and suddenly die via this trapdoor, grimly. and that’s Stand By Me / The Body handshake emoji It, like of course that mortality is ever relevant particularly in horror, but that also it’s like, kids realizing the reality and Proximity of that, like You Can Die, this could be you or could’ve been you. [horror, and it’s middle schoolers] wins again

#how long is this. and i could've gone on lol. if i have anything to say i Can [never shut up]#it #like what even addendums could there be for the tags....like don't even start b/c of course i could max shit out #i guess the Interesting Fun Fact that in doing research the podcasters were able to be like #''well i'm not Sure abt this; the source was maybe vague & it Would be vague; but that naturally ofc plenty of story elements in #stephen king stuff can be things where he's like yeah [xyz] was directly inspired by some real life shit [abc]'' and that like there was #Maybe this childhood event where he saw a friend / some other kid get hit by a train but then right off fully blacked out on that memory #which obviously would be pertinent here re: Remembering Litchrelly Nothing abt childhood till it all suddenly is brought back into play #but also like the part of stand by me included a scene like woops Almost getting hit by a train. dunno if that's in the short story though #but i'm gonna say Probably Yeah. plus learning again via the podcast like oh stephe got mega hit by like a minivan in '99? i was 5 lol #so i would not have been aware of that news. and i have not since Caught Up on the man's life history. nice not dying there #there was probably some other sidebar i wanted to throw in here but i forget and quick let's post this before I Keep Going On & On #scrolling up ''oh this isn't That long'' scrolling back down ''oh wait maybe it is kinda long''#it's all relative. i like horror i dislike horror. i said a lot i was so concise.#for one thing lmfao like sure is Interesting how; say; i was always Intrigued by horror as a kid even #like i think that's true for plenty of people & there's more than one way to enjoy a genre & s/o to Horror Expressly For Kids or anything #expressly for kids when it's like good & genuine & apropos it's Not just necessarily abt diluted or lesser versions of that For Adults #but anyways like i Also though def experienced like; this does freak me out & in an [i'm not having fun] way. But I Also persisted lol #like me thinking ''but i have to power through & build up a tolerance here'' when like; of course i really Didn't. why would i.#did that re: like thrill rides too sometimes; kinda liking them & the suspense; kinda really not; at least for a good while #i Did build up a tolerance &/or just how i got older & now i think all thrill rides are entirely Fun. except just straight drop towers maybe #haven't tried one lol but i've tried like roller coasters that are supposed to be Especially intense & i didn't even realize like oh. huh.#like it was fine actually lol we have fun...and same with horror; again how like yeah i'm not expecting Especially Intense but yeah ofc i'm #gonna fire this shit up alone in the dark & never think anything of that. munch crunch #like hmmmmm re: my being a little kid who Was bothered more by such shit sometimes while also intrigued / having fun #but who regardless was like Well I Have To Try To Be Okay With It / seek it out & power through. vs ppl who are just like well no i don't #enjoy or like horror stuff particularly and/or roller coasters lol. compare & contrast & contextualize w/me also being a little kid who is #experiencing trauma & trauma responses as what is for me some mundane / everyday / par for the course / Anytime shit lol and of course i do #not have the info / context / perspective / framework to realize this. so i get distressed by ''that Would be fucked up'' but what else is #new or what have you? why shouldn't i also go ''well i guess i have to Get Good at tolerating this / Enduring it'' lmao

3 notes · View notes

galacticlamps · 2 years ago

Note

Your creative process is an interesting one my dear. You live dangerously and I respect that lol. It isn't so disorganized as I previously thought when we talked before, now that I understand it better, but even still, interesting!

Also, I'm very curious about hte Ghost based WIP.

haha, thank you! although I feel like "interesting" is a tad on the generous side... then again, "process" might be too lol

I can't honestly call it organized, every once in a while I do legitimately have trouble finding a particular idea (especially if I can't remember a word-for-word phrase I can ctrl + f) - but I think I wound up doing it that way in the first place to encourage myself to actually write things down no matter how small/insignificant the initial idea was - somehow it was less daunting to tack a few lines onto the end of an existing document than create a new file every time I had an idea, because then I'd usually talk myself out of it like, 'nah, I probably wouldn't really develop this anyway, it'll just be something I daydream about for a while & that's it, it's not worth saving a file for.' And I should admit I learned this the hard way - there were entire fandoms I wound up having multiple, fairly developed concepts for - sometimes even with specific lines of narration & dialogue - that lived entirely in my head until I eventually forgot the details one day. I'd always considered writing them down - some I remember actually starting to type out - but then I decided against saving any of it, because that just felt like too much of a commitment, somehow. Two of the biggest casualties actually being Good Omens and Broadchurch, weirdly enough (and unrelated to one another, even though that seems to've become a bit of a crossover fandom since then? that's always amused me, because in my mind the venn diagram between them is david tennant & ill-fated fic ideas)

But the Ghosts one, yes! Unfortunately, very little to do with Ghosts - it started life as a typical "they wake up in bed together the morning after getting drunk at a party thinking 'oh no what did I do?'" scene - but everything's fine, there's some more generally embarrassing details but nothing went on between the two of them they'd be ashamed of. I always pictured it as a pretty modern party, but for some reason taking place in a older mansion-type home (in my head the bedroom had tall windows, molding on the walls, a canopy bed, and, crucially, the softest sheets Jamie'd ever seen) so when I got around to watching that episode of Ghosts, seeing Button House in that context made me go "oh, right! I had a fic a bit like this" and start working on it more seriously. It still doesn't have too much in common with the episode, other than a similar location - it's now set in the near future (2030's, I think) in an old mansion-turned-event-space that UNIT had to co-opt as a base to deal with the monster of the week causing havoc in a nearby town. After that's sorted but before Two, Jamie, and Zoe can get a ride back to London where the Tardis is parked, the relieved locals celebrate with a party that takes over most of the mansion, and since they've been living there for the time being too, they don't have much choice but to attend.

One of the reasons I haven't finished it yet is because the more I wrote of the party itself the less it became about the morning after - not that it was ever a hangover-style mystery, exactly, but proportionally, I've strayed pretty far from the original idea, and I want to decide if I actually like its new structure, since it came about a little unintentionally. But, for the moment at least, it's got Zoe very excited about seeing a party from what would've been her grandparents' generation first-hand, a bartender flirting with Jamie, and Two getting much drunker than he ever intended - I'm not extensively versed in Time Lord lore, but the bit about the Doctor being able to get drunk off of ginger ale always seemed funny to me, and I love the comedic potential of ordering a mixed drink not for the liquor but the mixer instead, and as the night wears on eventually asking for the last one to be "not too strong" - which any sane bartender would interpret as 'less alcohol & more mixer, please' even though that'd be exactly the opposite of what the Doctor wanted. It's a very silly detail but it was begging to be written in a comedy of errors way

#wips #i know i know it's basically a capital offense to write something with ties to Ghosts that features UNIT #but has nothing to do with either the captain or the brigadier

3 notes · View notes

phantom-curve · 4 years ago

Note

49 or 50 for willex, and au of your choosing!

“Also happy second birthday!! Hope you have a wonderful day”

Thank you! This was an absolute joy to write so I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it! From the gimme a chance AU (which I guess now officially has spin-off lore about Willex) I give you Alex and Willie’s first date.

#49: holding onto the other’s shoulders for support & #50: putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

When Willie had asked Alex if he wanted to go on a date to the art museum, Alex couldn’t help but picture something cute and romantic. The two of them wandering around bright, airy rooms with the sunshine streaming in, bathing them in an ethereal kind of glow. Long moments standing in front of different paintings, fingertips brushing as they exchanged meaningful side long glances with one another. Maybe they would even kiss. Alex had been nearly breathless with the thought. Which was why he said yes without hesitation.

Willie looked like an absolute dream when Alex first caught sight of him outside of the museum, his long hair fluttering in the breeze behind him under his helmet, the loose, slightly cropped t-shirt he wore rising up every now and then to reveal tantalizing glimpses at tanned skin and toned abs. He came to a graceful stop on his skateboard right in front of Alex, grinning from ear to ear as he raised his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

“Didn’t run ya over this time. This date is already going better than our first meeting.”

Alex couldn’t stop the slightly high-pitched embarrassed laugh that slipped through his lips. Willie’s cheeks stretched impossibly wider, and Alex felt his own cheeks warm.

“I didn’t really mind so much.”

Willie smirked like he thought Alex was lying, which, fair. Alex had been pissed when Willie had crashed into him, ready to absolutely lose it on whatever dumbass had knocked him down and then had the audacity to complain about his stupid fucking skateboard. But then Willie had been scrambling to apologize, his brown hair tumbling down from his helmet in a mesmerizing cascade, and Alex had forgotten about his injuries completely because he was entirely focused on remembering how to breathe and getting his brain to restart. And then Willie had asked him out and it became the best day of Alex’s life. So, in the end, he didn’t really mind.

“C’mon, I got us tickets already.”

Willie tucked his skateboard under one arm and held his other hand out like he was offering it to Alex. Which, he was, Alex realized after a long second. He felt the blush paint his cheeks again and rushed to pull his hand from his pocket so he could place it in Willie’s. Willie didn’t say anything, but Alex caught the way his lips curved a bit on the edges, like he was holding back a smile.

Willie, it turned out, had an extensive understanding of almost everything art related. He named off artists without having to read the little cards by their work and talked about different periods of art styles and the evolution of art as it related to history, explaining how the two were inextricably linked which wasn’t something Alex had ever really thought about before, but was fascinating, nonetheless. Alex let himself be led around, impressed and in complete awe as Willie pointed out his favorite pieces and waxed poetic about Jean-Michel Basquiat, who Alex had learned was his favorite artist. It was everything Alex had hoped for in a date, especially when Willie led him down a set of stairs and into a basement gallery that was practically deserted.

There were large abstract sculptures throughout the room, concrete benches spaced out along the wall. Willie walked over to one and sprawled out, Alex sitting down next to him in a bit more conservative manner.

“Man, I wish they had let me bring my board in. How dope would it be to skate through this place?”

He traced his fingers through the air like he was mentally mapping out exactly how he would maneuver around all the obstacles. Alex laughed.

“I’d be way too worried about running into a priceless piece of art and ruining it.”

Alex shuddered as he thought about how awful it would be to destroy someone’s artistic creation. He still remembered how heartbroken Luke had been their senior year of high school when their former bandmate Bobby had stolen his songs and sold them to a record label on a solo contract. The pain had been unbearable, and Alex hadn’t even been the one dealing with the brunt of the hurt. Something must have changed on his face because Willie leaned over to nudge him softly with his knee. Alex blinked, startled back into the present and looked into the warmest pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen.

“You’re wound a little tight, huh? Where’d you go just then?”

Usually, Alex didn’t really open up to people. He’d learned from a young age that emotions were best kept in a bottle locked in a safe shoved into the farthest reaches of his brain. Alex and Reggie had unpacked some of that throughout the years, slowly gaining his trust and teaching him that it was okay to express himself. But Alex never really let other people in like his boys. Except, there was something about Willie, some innate goodness in him, that made Alex feel safe and calm and like maybe it was okay to let him in, too.

So, he did. He talked about Bobby, and then that spiraled into talking about the band and his homophobic parents and their silent rejection that stung all the more because it was like they weren’t even mad, they just decided that he suddenly no longer existed. Willie didn’t interrupt or judge. And when Alex had finally exhausted himself and felt a little less bogged down by it all, Willie reached over and placed his hand on Alex’s knee, skin to skin through the hole in his jeans.

“That sucks, man. I’m glad you’ve got a better family with your friends now. Luke and Reggie, right? So, you all moved down here from San Fran together?”

Alex had mentioned that when they first met. It shouldn’t be a big deal, the fact that Willie remembered and had clearly actually been listening to the things Alex had said then and now, but he was so used to not being heard that it felt monumental. His lips curved into a small smile.

“Yeah. They’re my best friends. Luke swears someday our band will take off now that we’re in LA, but I’m just happy I get to be here with them, living in a house that doesn’t feel so unwelcoming all the time and whaling on some drums whenever I need to.”

“I’m happy you’re here, too.”

The way he said it, with a little smirk and some bouncy eyebrows, Alex knew Willie meant more than just being in LA. He meant here in this museum, with him. Suddenly, Willie jumped to his feet, holding both hands out towards Alex.

“I think I know something else that might help you loosen up. Wanna give it a try?”

Alex was pretty sure he was willing to give anything a try if Willie asked him to. He slipped his hands into Willie’s and only stumbled slightly when he was pulled to his feet. Willie let go so he could catch Alex by his shoulders, their faces so close Alex could count every one of his eyelashes. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, something crackling in the space between them. And then, Willie threw his head back and yelled.

Alex jumped about 10 feet in the air and immediately slapped a hand over Willie’s mouth, muffling the sound of the other boy’s voice. He whipped his head back and forth, thankful that there wasn’t another museum patron around or worse, a security guard.

“What the hell was that for?!” He whisper-yelled, feeling the need to compensate for Willie’s vocal volume by lowering his own.

Willie laughed, his lips moving under Alex’s palm. Alex let his hand drop, not wanting to think too long about Willie’s lips touching his skin.

“It’s stress release!”

Alex raised a judgmental brow.

“Yelling in a museum is stress release?”

“Yeah, man,” Willie was still laughing, his smile easy and eyes sparkling. “There’s something about letting everything out all at once, especially in a place where it feels like you shouldn’t. C’mon, you said you would give it a try.”

Alex glanced around the gallery again. They were alone, and he had said he would try it. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Willie grinned and nodded encouragingly, so Alex inhaled again and tried to copy him.

“Ahhhhh!”

It was pretty pitiful in comparison. Willie doubled over with laughter for a moment, but when he straightened his smile was patient and kind.

“Nah, dude. You gotta mean it. Here, we can do it together.”

He stepped close, the tips of his shoes touching Alex’s, hands fisting into the shoulders of Alex’s favorite pink hoodie. He looked down at where Alex’s arms were dangling limply at his side and cocked his head, so Alex grabbed onto Willie’s shoulders as well. He felt Willie lean against him, letting Alex support some of his weight, and did the same. It weirdly felt almost like a hug, the way they were each clinging onto each other, trusting the other one to hold them up. Alex copied Willie when he sucked in a deep breath, but this time, instead of lifting his head towards the ceiling, Willie maintained eye contact. That same tension from earlier pulled taught between them. The moment built until all the sudden Alex felt a huge rush of emotion and opened his mouth at the exact same time as Willie, their voices overlapping and blending together in one loud, messy shout.

The resulting rush was incredible. Alex understood immediately what Willie had meant. He let out a laugh, absolutely delighted, and yelled again. Willie yelled back, and Alex felt like his head was spinning, drunk on adrenaline and release and Willie himself. He opened his mouth to yell again when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Willie glanced over his shoulder towards the doorway they had come through and then he grabbed Alex’s hand without hesitation, giggling as he pulled him through the room and out a second doorway at the back of the space before they could get caught. They raced up a different set of stairs, only slowing to a walk as they reentered the main level gallery space. Alex was breathless and giddy, the feeling of Willie’s hand in his making him feel brave and reckless. When they finally came to a stop in a hallway between the main gallery and a doorway to the outdoor sculpture park, he used their joined hands to pull Willie close.

“You are insane, and I cannot believe I let you talk me into that.”

His words were too soft to be a real admonishment. Willie leaned in, his hips brushing against Alex’s and the feeling was overwhelming. Without letting himself think about it, Alex reached up to move a few errant strands of hair out of Willie’s face, letting one hand rest against his jaw and bringing the other around his neck so he could tilt his face up. Willie’s eyes were shining, gaze dropping to Alex’s lips as the tip of his tongue peeked out to wet his own. It was all the invitation Alex needed.

He swooped down, Willie stretching on his toes to meet him halfway, arms sliding around his waist and pulling their bodies close. Alex’s mind went blissfully blank, focusing on nothing but the taste of cherry Chapstick on his tongue and the feeling of silky hair slipping through his fingers. Willie made a little noise in the back of his throat and Alex pulled back slightly, feeling shy and nervous. Their foreheads were still touching, breaths comingling in the tiny space between them. Willie leaned in to press a soft kiss against Alex’s cheek, leaving a burning mark behind as he moved so his lips grazed Alex’s ear.

“Totally worth it.”

He pulled away with a satisfied grin, dropping his heels as Alex felt himself blush from head to toe. Willie laced their fingers together and started to retrace their steps back towards the front of the museum, pulling a dazed Alex along in his wake.

“Wanna go grab some food? There’s a pretty good hotdog stand around the corner we could hit up.”

That broke Alex out of his spell.

“Ugh, no. Literally anything but hotdogs, please.”

He shivered, his stomach clenching like it still remembered the time Luke had convinced them they could totally trust the dude selling food out of the trunk of his car at next to a venue they were playing at. Willie laughed and quirked a brow.

“Sounds like you’ve got a story to tell, Hotdog. Let’s go.”

And Alex went, groaning the whole time about his new nickname but secretly loving the fact that Willie had given him one. Nicknames said familiarity, affection. Maybe by the end of their next date he could earn a different title: boyfriend.

#mads writes #gimme a chance #jatp #julie and the phantoms #send me prompts for my birthday!#willex #willex week #jatp ficlet #willex ficlet

29 notes · View notes