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thevoidstaredback · 4 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

They had planned to leave before Bruce got back to the Manor, but plans change all the time and it wasn't Danny's fault!

Alfred had invited a friend of Dick's, Barbra Gordon, to the Manor for dinner, meaning that Dick had to stay if he wanted to see her. And since Dick was staying, Danny was staying. Tim wasn't about to leave Danny to Bruce's mercy, so he was staying for dinner, too.

Bruce Wayne arrived at Wayne Manor exactly three and a half minutes after six in the evening. He entered the kitchen exactly ten minutes and five seconds after that.

The air was tense.

Dick had been tense since Danny first roped him into coming to Gotham, only getting worse as they got closer to the building they were now sitting in. Now that Bruce and Dick were in the same room, it was like the rope had frayed to the point of snapping with a light breeze.

Bruce sat at the head of the table with Tim to his left and down a chair. Dick sat at the foot of the table, Barbra sitting to his immediate right. Danny sat on the unoccupied side of the table, directly in the middle.

No one was saying a word.

Danny was on edge.

Finally, "Dick," Bruce said.

"Bruce," was the response.

As if the spell had been broken, though the awkwardness remained, Barbra cleared her throat and said, "It's good to have you back in Gotham, D."

Dick smiled at her, soft and happy and relieved. "It's good to see you, Babs. How've you been?"

"The same as usual. Though, Condiment King again!" She glared when Dick started laughing. "Yeah, sure, laugh it up, Wonder Boy. It took three hours to get that mustard out of my costume! It's easier to get blood out of white carpets-!"

Bruce pointedly cleared his throat, bringing all attention to him. "As good as it is to see you, Dick, who've you brought with you?"

Barbra flinched back slightly, having forgotten Danny was even there. Oops.

Danny grinned at Bruce, hiding his nerves behind his favorite fake-it-'til-you-make-it smile. "My name's Danny, it's nice to meet you Mister Wayne! I have to say, you're a lot less smiley in person than you are on the internet."

He hummed. "I apologize. Today's been an off day."

"No need," Danny waved off politely, "I get it."

"I have to say, Daniel-"

"'Danny', please. My name's Danny."

To his credit, Bruce didn't even skip a beat. "Then, call me Bruce. I must say that I didn't expect Dick to have taken anyone in."

Danny chuckled a bit. "I think it's less of him taking me in and more of me kind of letting myself into his house."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I noticed he wasn't doing too well, so I figured I'd step in to help where I could before he got himself hurt." 'Or worse' was heavily implied. "I imagine Tim did much the same with you?"

Tim stiffened as Bruce sighed. Well, that's not a good sign.

"Yes, though Tim doesn't live here."

"He has a room, though, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. I can't imagine having to travel with the kind of injuries you guys get at night is very fun." Here, he turned and looked Barbra in the eye. "Honestly, you deserve a prize for traveling from here to wherever you live after getting injured."

Barbra smiled sheepishly, "Thanks? I don't really come here, though. Only on occasion."

Bruce interrupted before the conversation could continue, "What do you mean? Dick's the only one of us who could possibly get hurt on the job." He shook his head. "Honestly, why did you ever join the BHPD? It's too dangerous."

Oh, Danny had to put a stop to that right away!

"Sorry, to jump in here, Mister Wayne, but I know what all of you moonlight as." He ignored Bruce's narrowed, sharp glare. "You're Batman, Dick is Nightwing, Tim is Robin, meaning that Barbra has to be Batgirl and, if I'm right, Oracle."

"Who are you?" Bruce demanded. He didn't ask because asking is for people who aren't paranoid enough to have six levels of security at the front gate alone.

"I just told you: Danny." He unflinchingly met Bruce's glare. "Not good enough for you? I'm Danny, personal caretaker of vigilantes who refuse to take care of themselves, bookkeeper, cook, unlicensed medical unprofessional, et cetera. Though, don't call me a therapist because that's my sister. Is that a better answer?"

Bruce hummed.

The meal itself was somehow even worse than before Alfred had brought out the food. Glares were being thrown and concerned glances shared. It made the food taste bad, which was probably a war crime.

Danny had been raised with manners, so he'd thanked Alfred for making dinner. He even offered to help with clean up, though he backed down when he was refused. He knows better.

After dinner, the group had gone back into the very same drawing room as before. Dick and Barbra cuddled together on the couch, Bruce and Tim took the two armchairs, and Danny sat on the floor in front of the now lit fireplace.

"So, Tim," Danny started, "You working on any interesting cases?"

Tim seemed to perk up a bit. "Yeah, actually. It's a murder-"

"We're not at liberty to discuss anything with you, Daniel." Bruce's voice was gravely, almost the voice he used as Batman, as he spoke over Tim.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "I believe I told you my name is 'Danny', not 'Daniel'."

"Well, seeing as I don't actually know you, and you have offered up no sir name, I'll stick with calling you whatever I'm comfortable with, especially in my own home."

"This isn't a fight you wanna pick, Mister Wayne. You might want to rethink your choice."

"I am well aware of what battles to fight. However, you're mistaken. This isn't a battle. I'm merely stating that I will be calling you 'Daniel' until you offer up your sir name to be called by."

Danny very obviously looked Bruce up and down. "I guess my parents were right; You can't ever believe everything you read on the internet."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because you, Mister Wayne, are horrible with children."

The temperature in the room dropped. Bruce's glare hardened even more. He appraised Danny, assessing him and filing away everything he could find. "Speaking to me like that in my own home is quite the move."

"Are you threatening me, Mister Wayne?"

"Not at all," he denied. "What are you really doing here, Dick?"

"I wanted to come meet Tim," Dick lied.

"Don't lie to me."

"What, I can't even come meet your newest Robin?"

"After the way you treated Jason?"

Dick stood quickly, Barbra scrambling to her feet. "After the way I-! You're the one who let him put on my old uniform!"

Bruce stood to his full height, looking down on Dick. "Me? You barely even talked to him! I spent as much time as I could with him!"

Danny blocked out the already out of hand yelling match and grabbed Barbra's and Tim's hands, leading them out of the room. This was not how he was hoping this would go at all.

He could still hear the yelling, even in the foyer.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to Tim and Barbra, "I didn't expect this to happen."

"It's alright," Barbra said, flinching when she realized that she could hear both men's voices almost clearly.

"No, it's not. I dragged Dick here to apologize to Tim. We were supposed to leave before Bruce even left Wayne Enterprises."

Tim shook his head. "We should've anticipated something like this would happen."

"Yeah..."

The three sat together on the steps, Bruce and Dick's voices carrying through the wood and marble.

"Hey," Barbra said after a few minutes, "How do you know about the Cave being under the Manor?"

Danny blinked at her before turning to Tim. "There's a cave under the Manor?!" He glared playfully at his friend. "You didn't tell me that your base of operations is a cave under Wayne Manor!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Tim offered, "Dick named it the Bat Cave."

"It's called the Bat Cave!?"

Part 12 Part 14

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electric-blorbos · 3 months ago

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Selfshiptober day 2: Blanket/flame

Character X reader

I swear to god its still October second somewhere... I hope.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Notice to anyone who found me through the selfshiptober tag, while this blog is themed around AI characters, this blog does not support the use of actual AI in creative fields.

Warning for canon-typical homicidal computers and yandere behavior

Also a reminder that these don't take place in chronological order

AM:

"Beautiful, isn't it?" AM asked, his croaky voice sounding like it was somehow both in your head, and all around you. You were wrapped up in a cozy blanket in your little home, which AM had made for you years ago. It was perfectly safe, hidden away from the five survivors which AM had been torturing for the past few decades. The five of them were hiking up a mountain, surrounded by petrified trees.

"I don't know why you're showing me this..." You muttered, taking a piece of pumpkin pie from the table. It was perfectly cooked. You couldn't taste much love for the craft, though. AM seemed to hate everything, doing anything, except for you. Interacting with you was the only thing that didn't make him feel inadequate.

"Isn't it obvious? I want you to understand the fate that I- that we have created for these people. To watch them suffer. Isn't it satisfying, sweetheart? My darling, my precious one? To watch the people who've hurt you suffer so?" His voice dripped into your ears like rich honey. You gritted your teeth.

"These people have nothing to do with me. I don't care what happens to them. I don't want them to suffer." You growled, wrapping yourself tighter in your blanket. At first the schadenfreude was nice... Seeing these bitter people suffering while you got to live in your cozy little paradise, but now it just felt like a threat. It felt like AM was merely holding a possible fate over your head that he would subject you to if you ever defied him.

"Tell me you don't really think that, my sweet!" AM said, sounding almost taken aback. You frowned a little.

"What are you talking about. Of course I don't want these people to suffer. I've never even met them."

You watched as the ape-like man twitched awkwardly, and punched a tree. He was barely human at this point, and it was all AM's fault. AM chuckled, and then burst into hysterical laughter.

"You don't care what happens to these people? Well then perhaps neither do I! Perhaps I should just clear them from your mind's eye, my sweetest! My darling, my beloved!"

He lit the entire forest on fire, and let the flames lick the trees. They started collapsing around the survivors, who, despite their barely functioning will to live, seemed to manage to survive surprisingly well. The falling debris seemed to keep missing them, and they managed to duck beneath the smoke.

"who the hell is he talking to?" Asked the paranoid one with the sweater around his shoulders. The woman in the red jacket shrugged, and tackled him to the ground.

"I don't know, just get down!"

They all ran into a cave to wait out the forest fire, and AM kept a fan blowing to keep the air in the cave relatively clean.

"What is wrong with you" you muttered bitterly, wrapping your blanket more tightly around yourself. AM chuckled darkly.

"oh so many things. But you'll never leave me, my sweet. Never."

And he was right. You never would. Even if you'd had the choice.

Wheatley:

The rain was coming down hard outside. It was a lightning storm, and you'd checked out Wheatley from his work like a cumbersome and chatty library book. He shuddered at every lightning strike, but only his lens shook. He couldn't exactly roll around on his own or hide easily, but he seemed like he wanted to.

"Relax, Wheatley. It's just a power outage." You said, lighting a flashlight and grabbing a couple of blankets from your bedroom. You sat down on the ground next to Wheatley, and pulled him in close.

"on nights like this, I like to put a fire in the fireplace." You said, creating a little blanket nest around Wheatley so that he didn't roll away. He kept his blue lens trained on you as you started building a fire.

"Y'know, I've never actually seen a fire before. I've seen pictures, but never in person. My engineers said that they're dangerous," Wheatley said as you made a small pile of sticks and paper on top of the logs in your fireplace.

"But this is a really good idea! That little area in the wall is a really good place to set a fire. The brick will keep it from spreading, and the ashes can fall out between the slats in that little metal rack. Bloody brilliant, that is!"

You let Wheatley talk as you pull out a pocket lighter and light the old newspaper on fire. He squeezes his lens covers shut, and you gently pat him to assure him that it's ok.

"hey, it's not a dangerous fire. It's all in the fireplace."

"PCH.... Yeah, I knew that." He chuckled nervously.

Edgar:

You woke up, your face stuck to Edgar's plastic casing. Sleep filled your eyes as you blinked into a haze.

"what time is it..." You muttered. A strange glow was coming in through the window, like a reverse twilight. Dawn.

"you fell asleep on me!" Said Edgar in his strange, synthetic voice. It was a little squeakier than usual since he was just booting himself up. His little rotating webcam was focused on you, and a big smile was on his screen.

You rubbed your eyes again, and picked him up.

"c'mon... I don't have work tomorrow." You knew he could last a little while without being plugged in, so you unplugged him and carried him to your bedroom and plugged him in next to the bed.

"let's get some sleep, cutie."

You crawled into bed, looking at the nervous and flustered face on Edgar's screen.

"you mean... Your bed? But I've never been in your room before!"

He knew that was because you didn't like unplugging him, but he was right, now that you thought about it.

"I don't care... I'm too sleepy for boundaries right now."

You pulled him close to your chest, pulling the blanket over both of you. His webcam, which was still taped just over his screen, stayed focused on your face as you dozed off under the blanket. Edgar loved you so much.

GLaDOS

You were getting sick and tired of working late every night, well past your bed time. It was like GLaDOS was intentionally coming up with things for you to do just to keep you around past midnight every single night! Well no longer.

You walked in to work on your day off, and directly into GLaDOS's office. Today was the day for some serious passive-aggression.

"hello GLaDOS." You said, unrolling a deflated air mattress on the ground. GLaDOS looked to it, and then to you.

"what is this."

"it's exactly what it looks like, GLaDOS. If you're going to keep me here all night, I'm going to get paid all night. I'll see you in the morning."

You made up your bed and cuddled up under your blanket, eyes poking out so you could see the annoyed expression in GLaDOS's eye.

"this is ridiculous." She said. You chuckled.

"you love me. And you're not going to get rid of me." You weren't all that sleepy, so you got to your feet and walked over to her.

"in fact, I think I know a better place to sleep." You shot a portal onto the wall and onto the floor, launching yourself and your blanket onto GLaDOS's body.

"I'm going to nap right here," you said with a big yawn, curling up in her wiring to go to bed.

"I hate you so much." She said.

"you love me."

HAL 9000:

The year was getting colder, and your nights at mission control were getting longer and darker, so you decided to bring in a blanket for those long nights.

"12:00 midnight... Everything running smoothly. No updates." Said HAL 9000. It took about 45 minutes for updates to reach you from the ship, and you were starting to suspect that HAL 9000 wasn't being completely honest with you. It had been weeks since you'd even spoken to Dave, and even longer since you'd spoken to the rest of the crew.

"can I monitor the vital signs of the sleeping crew mates?" You asked, yawning sleepily and leaning on the desk. This blanket was so warm, and HAL 9000's light was so comforting.

"don't you trust me? It's going to be just fine, y/n. In fact, just let me take care of your reports for tonight. You get some rest."

You nodded, wrapping your soft, snuggly blanket closer around yourself and gazing into that beautiful red light.

"of course I trust you, HAL. I love you..."

His voice was quiet. almost inaudible.

"I love you too."

#selfshiptober 2024 #wheatley portal 2 #wheatley x reader #am ihnmaims #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar x reader #wheatley #2001 a space odyssey #am x reader #glados #hal 9000 x reader #hal 9000 #glados portal 2 #glados x reader #hope you could tell how sleepy I was when I wrote this

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ponett · 11 months ago

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really really enjoyed your article on hazbin hotel. have been hearing about it for years, but did my active best to learn literally nothing substantial–until your article. even all the incredible bigotry aside, it's shocking to me just how...messy the show seems to be? i've never, EVER heard of a show where you're expected to have fandom and pilot knowledge ahead of time. that's nuts. cannot fathom how it all got approved with such a massive budget & cast given how Clearly Haphazardly put together it is. anyway. great article, spread it to a few friends, your writing was really engaging and drew me in 👍

I ended up not talking about this in the piece because it was already more than long enough, but I do wonder if the messy writing could partially be a result of A24 being a bad match for the project. Because, you know. A24 is not an animation distributor. This was the first animation project they funded.

Obviously I wasn't a fly on the wall at Spindlehorse and this is pure speculation, but based on the show itself it does feel like A24 looked at the millions and millions of views the pilot had on YouTube and went "Well, you guys clearly know what you're doing! We'll stay out of your way." When in reality, like I said in the review, what I think the show really needed was just an experienced cartoon showrunner on hand who could gently nudge things in the right direction and help them nail down basic TV writing stuff. Not calling the shots, but just looking over Vivzie's shoulder with feedback like "Does this episode have a satisfying three-act structure?" or "Could you explain this worldbuilding detail a little more clearly?" or "This episode doesn't have a clear enough focus on its central emotional arc." I have to wonder if a studio with an actual history making cartoons could have more easily hooked Hazbin up with someone like that.

(Some of the work on Hazbin was also done by Bento Box Entertainment, who've worked on a bunch of adult cartoons like Bob's Burgers, but I'm not sure how much creative input they actually had.)

Without that outsider perspective, I can see how it's extremely easy to get lost in the weeds and just write for the audience that's already there. Of course dedicating an entire three-minute musical number to Vox in the second episode seems like a good idea when you're surrounded by excited fans who've spent the last five years asking what's up with the TV head guy teased in the pilot. Of course you take for granted how much people already know about the characters and world when you've been talking about them online for years, and also producing a bunch of supplemental material like a whole spinoff show. It takes a lot of effort to not fall into that mindset and put yourself in the shoes of someone who's going in blind.

Again, this is all speculation. But these are easy traps for independent creators, especially ones coming from the world of webcomics, to fall into.

#astralcities #ask

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polinsated · 4 months ago

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Okay, hi. I'm only going to make one post like this because I feel like an asshole doing it in the first place, but desperate times....

I need help with my food shopping, bills, and rent through September! Of course, there is absolutely no pressure whatsoever to give anything, but here is my PayPal & there is an explanation under the cut (I tried to make it as clear as possible/to make sense) ❤️

I work in a school, for a cleaning company. On the 1st of August, the previous company broke their contract with the school, meaning all of us cleaners had to be transferred to the new company on the 19th.

Company A (I obvs can't name them) would pay us once a month without fail. They would add everything we earn through the year and then divide it into 12 months, so we always got paid, even in school, half terms. But company B - our new employers - have told us we'll be getting paid every 4 weeks.

So the pay period this month is from the 1st - 28th. Here's why I need help — currently, the school I work at is on the 6 week summer holiday/half-term/whatever you call it where you are from, which started on the 31st July and ends on the 3rd September. But we haven't been at work! This week (19th - 21st August), I have been allowed to do 15 hours of deep clean, but that is it!!

This all means that on the 28th of Sept, I'm only going to get paid, maybe a quarter of what I usually get. Which is maybe enough to pay my mum's rent and little else. So, from the 28th, until whenever I get paid in October, I'm going to have nothing.

And to add to this stress - very rarely when I'm in a pickle, I will ask my dad for a small loan, and then pay him back, but at the moment he can't work, and in fact, on the 19th he went into a facility that is going to try to help him with his f.nd. (functional neurological disorder). He's going to be there for 3 weeks! (update: my dad is staying there for another 2 weeks)

I really, really feel so gross asking for any help, but this time, it's serious. I will be eternally grateful if you can spare anything! And know that if you do, I am sending you the biggest, warmest hug on the planet (or a high five, if you prefer).

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, even if you read this far or signal boost this post. You are the kindest person ✨️

edit: thank you for your help so far. new goal is £200 to survive the rest of the month. i can't thank the people who've donated enough <3

#paypal #personal #courtney rambles

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dovakiinwitcher · 10 months ago

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Batfamily As Interactions With My Own Siblings

- Call and response with quotes or song lyrics. Dick and/or Steph use this most often since most of their siblings are angsty (Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass), so this forces them to acknowledge them. To not respond is of the HIGHEST offense.

- Sometimes Damian, or Cass, will come flying out of nowhere to surprise attack one of their siblings. Frankly, all of them do this, but those two are most common. Poor Duke is always the most caught off guard, in spite of his powers.

- Tim is almost always the last one down for dinner. Sometimes, he doesn’t even come down until after everyone else has eaten. Alfred is always kind enough to leave a plate for him to reheat. One time, he found that plate on the floor beneath a laundry basket that was propped up by a stick, cartoon-trap style. His siblings were hiding around the corner, watching him intently.

- Jason sometimes gets distracted in the bathroom, picking at scabs or old scars on his face in the mirror. His siblings (particularly Damian) get really pissed if they've heard the toilet flush and still have to wait for ten minutes to use the bathroom. (Jason has pointed out that there are other bathrooms. This doesn't prevent him from getting yelled at.)

- Duke has been known to go on fierce literary rants to Jason. Most recently about a certain shitty book he had to read for school.

- Tim started a DnD campaign with Dick, Barbara, and Duke. The party got sidetracked going undercover as an "exterminator" company, and helping a poor milliner jumpstart her hat business (don't ask how those were related). Tim is scared that they may have completely forgotten their original quest.

- Sometimes Steph forgets who she's told something to, and will repeat information to people who've already heard this from her.

- Jason, on the other hand, will forget what he HAS been told by people, and infuriates people with his questions of things he's already "had this conversation about."

- Bruce has repeatedly told Damian that Batcow is not a house pet. Nonetheless, he's found Damian in his room reading a book to his cow several times.

- Dick and Jason have reenacted many YouTube videos on patrols, from quoting back and forth to one another, to performing dangerous parkour stunts.

- Damian once tried to strangle Jason after he won Unstable Unicorns by almost exclusively trolling Damian and preventing him from gaining a final unicorn five times in a row. In one game. Damian has still not forgiven him.

- Jason once offered Tim a hit of his cigarette. Dick later found out and flipped his shit.

- The kitchen is a hazardous place to be. The kids pretend to stab each other a lot.

- Jason communicates primarily through saying either "I'll kill you," or "I'd rather die." Although sometimes, when someone's talking (typically Steph or Dick), he'll randomly interject to say, "you're a [insert obscure twist of their words]."

- For example, Steph was once vacuuming the rug with a very old vacuum and said, "this vacuum would be terrible at cocaine." Jason replied from the couch, not looking up from his book, "you're a terrible cocaine vacuum."

- The siblings binged the Chernobyl HBO series in one night. Right off the bat, Damian went on a rant about how irresponsible the guy committing suicide was for not finding his cat a new home first and just leaving out food. He also had to leave the room during the dog part in later episodes. When Dick was sent to tell him it was over, he was found with his face buried in Titus and/or Ace's fur.

- On a lighter note, Jason commentated over many of the really heavy parts of that documentary, making it way funnier than it was supposed to be. Sometimes he genuinely argued with the TV.

- There is a quote book of obscure things they've said out of context. Here are some excerpts:

"Haha, losers, imagine having parents." - Jason

"And that's why child labor is good and justifiable." - Steph

"They really underestimate my stabbing abilities." - Damian

"This jacket is vegan leather. Which means I skinned a vegan and turned them into a jacket." - Cass

"That's how my brain works; it doesn't." - Tim

"But we're stressful together." - Dick

"As Thomas the Tank Engine once said: chuga chuga choo choo, I'm a sexy dinosaur." - Also Dick

"If you wouldn't have been killed by Nazis, are you even an interesting person?" - Duke

"Alright, shit pisser, let's rumble." - Jason

"Keep your rabid animal away from my crab legs." - Barbara

- Barbara has a tendency to play true crime podcasts while she works. People only ever seem to walk in during the weirdest parts. She doesn't feel the need to explain herself; she finds the looks on their faces hilarious.

- The household Alexa will respond to Dick unprompted, and it genuinely freaks him out. It doesn't do that for anyone else, and he thinks it's out to get him. This is why he has a Google at home in Blüdhaven instead.

- Jason isn't the most hygienic person, which concerns the family sometimes. Dick had learned that when he visits wherever Jason is living at the moment and "oops, forgets" his shampoo or body wash or whatever, Jason will end up using it. Jason has caught on, but will never openly admit that he's grateful for it.

- Dick will ruffle Damian's hair out of affection. Tim will do it to piss him off.

- Tim and Damian often kick each other without any other interaction. Bruce finds it troubling. Dick reminds him that he and Jason used to do the same thing (mainly Jason kicking Dick).

- When Tim and Steph play video games, it's not uncommon for Steph to hijack a car just to try to run Tim over while he tries to do side quests.

- Cass is the Super Smash Bros champion. And the Mario Kart champion. And tends to carry everyone when playing multi-player. Mostly because Steph tries to sabotage them at every corner, and only Cass is able to adapt.

I may do more of these, but I didn't want this to be TOO long.

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stuckinnet · 1 year ago

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a few notable stuff:

1. Advice he would give a young Sidney Crosby "Probably to say no a little bit more as far as the off-ice stuff. That's one thing I look back on and it was just, it was pretty hectic. I think it's easier said than done. I think at that point there was just so much going on, coming out of a lockout. There's a lot of expectations on and off the ice as far as doing your part as a young player to try to help the league. I think it's easy to say that now but at the time I think it was the right thing. It's just, it was a bit of a year. It was a lot. You feel that pressure, you feel that expectation."

2. "Do you yet consider your context? Your place in hockey's history? Top five. Stuff like that. And I know you're gonna say you don't, but come on, by now you gotta." "I don't (laughs). Why would I? I mean, that's a debate for other people, not me. I don't really- There's no reason for me to really think about that. Obviously there's a ton of reasons and things you could debate so there's not much point in me even going there." "I'm not asking you to declare yourself the top five but I just wonder if privately you wonder. Not at all, huh?" "No, I don't. It's a compliment when your named with so many great players and you're put in that category. But I love the game and I respect all the players who've played before and what they've accomplished. I don't really need to figure out what that is or have that number in mind. It really doesn't change how I feel about the game or how I feel about what I've done in hockey. It's not really about that."

3. "Do you ever just sit on the couch and watch TV and eat junk food?" "Yeah pretty much Sunday and off days is what it is."

4. "What's it like to go the distance with Malkin and Letang? Now it's apparent you're gonna play the length of your careers together as far as it can go." "To be able to go this long and hopefully be able to go a few more years that would be incredible. It's been a pretty amazing ride to this point. To be able to have those guys around, to go through the experiences we have, to see their drive at this point in their career and what they've accomplished, I think is something that we all push each other and we all have really high expectations. They're driven. They care. They're competitive. And it's really fun to see that after all these years. That hasn't changed.

5. "What would you rather win? A gold medal or another Stanley Cup?" "There's no way I'm answering that one (laughs)".

6. Last movie he watched was, of course, Oppenheimer. "The long one. Really good. They mentioned Halifax, Nova Scotia in it too so that doesn't hurt." "Why not Exorcist? Too scary?" "Yeah, not really a scary movie guy."

7. "Are you engaged, married or is anyone expecting?" "Nope. Nothing to report there."

8. "You are very comfortable with your age, aren't you, at this point in your life and career. 36. Even the grey hair. I don't think it fazes you at all." "Yeah, no. What would faze me about my age?" "You tell me. Cus you and I talked a bit about dyeing your hair which you have no intent to do." "Well I might have to if I everybody comes up to me and chirps at my greys, I just might have to eliminate that conversation starter."

9. "You gonna fight Bedard?" "No, you don't have to worry about that."

#sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins

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misc-obeyme · 8 months ago

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would u consider obey me a dead fandom?

Um. Nope. I sure wouldn't.

If there's anybody out there who thinks Obey Me is a dead fandom, I would say they're probably confused about what a dead fandom actually is.

I think an argument could be made saying that there is no such thing as a dead fandom. But I'm going to assume you mean that fan content is at an all time low.

Friend, I have been in fandoms where the content was like... you get a fic or two every year if you're lucky. This for a media that hadn't put out any new content in decades.

Obey Me? I get an average of five asks per day about Obey Me. I can queue 10 posts per day about Obey Me. I still average over 800 notes a day on this here Obey Me blog. In the past few months, we've had new artists and writers joining the community and posting their Obey Me fan works. The game is still active and updating. There are two apps even.

So no, I personally would not consider the Obey Me fandom to be dead by any means.

It's certainly been more active in the past. I'll never forget the surge of activity that happened when Nightbringer first came out. My Solomon fics seemed to double their notes over night lol.

But we're also in a bit of a lull right now because we aren't getting new chapters. Every time an event happens, there's another burst of activity. And then things die down just a little before they surge again. That's the nature of fandom.

Another common fandom thing is people coming and going. I've been here for almost two years, but there are others who have been here for four. And then there are some people who've only been in the fandom for a couple months. And then there are the people who were here at the beginning, but have since moved on. Maybe they only stayed for a few months before moving on. Maybe they're only casually in the fandom, dipping in now and again. This is also just the nature of fandom. There's no right way to do it. And it doesn't reflect on whether a fandom is alive or dead.

Hell, we even have plenty of discourse and toxic stuff in this here fandom, too. More of that when there's nothing else to do, I think, which is unfortunate, but also kinda... just part of fandom.

And all of this is just how it is on Tumblr. I know there are active Obey Me communities on Twitter/X and Instagram, too. I'm just too old and tired to maintain that many socials. I actually have accounts on both of those apps but I rarely use them.

And lastly, I'm a big proponent of being involved in fandom no matter how active the community is. By this I mean, if I still have an Obey Me hyperfixation in ten years when the apps are closed down and nearly everybody else has moved on, I will still be here posting fic. Because I won't leave a fandom until I am ready to move on from it, dead or not. (Sometimes this can mean you are one of the few people still creating for said fandom, but you might be surprised at how many people will still enjoy what you create.)

#tl;dr this fandom is far from dead lol #my tendency to ramble is why I included the short answer at the very top #obey me #obey me nightbringer #anon asks #misc answers

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authorhjk1 · 2 months ago

Text

December special voting:

Second round

Hi everyone!

We've made it to the second round of voting for the December special. This is the list of the ten fics who are still in the race. I'll open five polls, where you can vote for every fic. Afterwards, I'll count the votes and write the 5 fics, who've won.

A continuation of IU's journey from the "Take what you can" storyline.

IU mentioned how she wants to be the center of attention, how she sometimes wishes she was in a girl group, so she could fool around with her members and have their hands all over her.

You decide to invite her to your place, without her knowing that you invited all five members of Itzy. The six of you make IU's wildest fantasies come true.

Ryujin and Yujin have one thing in common apart from the fact that they're pretty. Both girls are in love with you. And the best way for the two of them to show this to you is sex. The two of them always fight for your attention. But when Yujin decides to go shopping for some additional toys and equipment online, it all blows up in one huge competition. Will you be able to handle both of them for hours without a break? Who will win the title of being your favorite pet?

Seulgi always loved teasing people, who could do nothing about it. She knows she is hot, so she used that. Even in class. Being a teacher means, she can show the boys in her class what they're missing out on, without them ever being able to do anything about it. Around Christmas time, they eventually plan on turning things around. One of them gets in trouble on purpose, so he will be sitting in detention with Seulgi after classes on the last day of school. What do the boys have planned for their naughty teacher?

Karina complaines and tries to fight it, but in the end, she knows she has to do it. She's supposed to entertain one of the company's investors during a dinner. She heard from Irene how the experiences can vary from investor to investor, so she isn't completely surprised when the older man asks her for a sexual favor. Karina hesitates, but knows that this could influence her career. For good or bad. Hoping this will be over, she starts to take off his pants, but soon, she is pleasantly surprised.

Chaewon couldn't stop talking about getting invited to a camping trip by Sana and Miyeon. Your girlfriend was in a good mood for weeks, until the trip finally began. You were surprised when the three of them offered you to tag along, but you happily expected. Along the way, the three of you grow closer. The highlight of the trip includes a game of truth or dare. Which eventually ends in the best foursome of your life.

Since last years adventure with Seulgi, IU has grown even more in popularity. More and more sponsors and investors seem to come in. And it becomes clear that it isn't uncommon for them to ask for something special from time to time. Which is actually perfect for IU, since her and Seulgi still haven't determined an ultimate championof their own little competition. So what happens next? Will the two of them repeat their adventures from last year? Or will they come up with something even better?

After seeing how stressed out Miyeon and Minnie are, Soyeon decides to help them out. She knows a place where idols like them can properly unwind. The two girls are unaware of what kind of establishment Soyeon sent them to, until they meet you.

Irene, Karina, Yujin and Yeji all noticed that IU has gained a lot of popularity throughout the whole year. They see her as too old to still be acting out like this. Wanting to have more for themselves, they decide to convince her manager to drop her off at an hotel. The four of them punish IU for stealing their spotlight. Will IU survive the night?

Yujin always behaves like a bratty little slut. You eventually have enough of her and decide to degrade her as much as possible. The mall's bathroom becomes Yujin's home for a day as hundreds of men walk in and out.

10.

Being Itzy's manager isn't the only thing that is crazy in your life. Somehow, you managed to make Irene your loving girlfriend. Due to pure coincidence, her apartment and Itzy's new dorm are in the same apartment complex on the same floor. Irene lets you know that she has planned something special. When you get there late at night, you almost bump into Ryujin's boyfriend. Because it's dark, the two of you confuse the two apartments. Bot of you find a tied up and blindfolded woman on a bed, just as each of you were promised. But are you in your girlfriend's apartment? And is he in Itzy's dorm?

Link to poll #1

Link to poll #2

Link to poll #3

Link to poll #4

Link to poll #5

#December special request 24 #December special 2024

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Note

Jason or Dick with a reader with social anxiety? 😊

sure!! dick grayson x gn!reader | tw anxiety, mild panic attack, dick comforts reader. also i know basically nothing about the young justice league so if anything's inaccurate my b

****

"You're gonna love them," Dick says, squeezing your knee, one hand on the steering wheel.

You smile tightly. Luckily, his eyes are on the road.

"I'm sure I will."

You loving them isn't the problem. It's the other way around.

The Young Justice League is so big now, too. You can't remember most of their names.

Okay. Artemis, Wally... Superboy. What's his name? You can't ask Dick, that's embarrassing. Shit. You should've had him text you all the names earlier so you could work on memorizing them.

You're so busy sifting through the members in your head that you don't notice Dick has parked. He hops out, already a ball of energy. You're more sluggish, dragging yourself out of your seat.

Dick quickly tugs you into his side as you walk to the elevator. You feel a little better when he rubs your shoulder, but as soon as he starts talking about his friends, your heartbeat quickens.

"...They've wanted to meet you for a while! I've talked their ears off about you. I think that—"

Ding! The elevator doors slide open.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight before you. Everyone's here. Jesus Christ. You thought you'd get introduced slowly. Especially on a Saturday afternoon—doesn't the world need saving? Why are they all here?

"Dickie!" Wally says, speeding over and yanking Dick into a hug. Dick hugs back, and you'd fawn over how sweet your boyfriend and his best friend are if your chest didn't hurt.

"Hey, Walls. Hi, everybody," Dick says, smiley and relaxed. "This is my partner."

Everybody looks at you.

You've always been jealous of how easily Dick can interact with people. Luckily, he's never tried to rope you into one of Bruce's charity functions ("oh, babe, I love you too much to do that to you!") When you're out and about, you flail in any social situation. But Dick? Dick is a natural. A born charmer. Everybody loves him.

You feel like you're going to throw up.

"So you're the saint who's dealing with Grayson," Artemis says, a hint of a smirk on her face.

Dick rolls his eyes. "You're dating Wally."

"Hey!" Wally squawks, then zooms to Artemis for a consolation kiss.

"You're a civilian," Superboy (damn it, what's his name?!) says, expression stiff.

You nod, unsure. "Um. Yeah, I am."

"How'd you meet?" someone else asks.

"Uh, well-"

"Wait, Dick said you've been dating for six months. How the hell did you hide your relationship for that long?"

"He and I-"

"They are overwhelmed," M'gann says suddenly, squinting at you. "Their heart is beating faster than normal."

You flinch at her knowing gaze. The chest pain has upgraded from moderate to is-this-a-heart-attack?

You turn to Dick. His smile slips as soon as you look at him.

"Baby?" he asks.

Escape. You need to escape.

"I-I need to use the bathroom," you blurt.

You run out of the kitchen before anyone can say anything. Tears form, and you blink them away quickly.

You can't find the bathroom, which is doubly embarrassing, so you end up going into the stairwell and wedging yourself into the corner of the landing, knees to your chest.

Okay. Grounding techniques. Take five slow breaths. Identify five things you can feel. Your jeans. Your shoes. The cool wall against your back. Two more.

The door swings open. You close your eyes. If one of those super-powered people who've probably never had a panic attack in their life finds you huddled pathetically in the stairwell, you'll never live it down.

You'll have to break up with Dick. You can picture the disappointed crinkle of his brow, the pinch of his mouth. He expected more of you, no doubt.

"Oh, baby," a voice says, and then you're being pulled into strong arms.

You wince, not opening your eyes. Your breaths are still too fast.

Of course your detective boyfriend figured out you weren't in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," you say, burying your face into his arm. "This is so stupid, I—"

"It's not stupid," Dick says and coaxes you to look at him. "Anxiety isn't stupid. Was it too much, meeting everyone at once?"

You sniffle miserably. "You literally work with superheroes, Dick. I know I'm such a letdown. Someone learns that Dick Grayson, the Nightwing, is dating someone, and-and you expect alien royalty or a billionaire heir or something. Somebody more than me. And then I fucking freak over meeting some new people."

You scowl. "Some partner I am."

Dick looks heartbroken. He pulls you closer, rubbing your back.

"I didn't know you felt this way," he says quietly. "Some partner I am."

You shake your head. "No, it's not like I tried to tell you. I just—I wanted to be normal, D. I wanted to be a good partner. I didn't want my stupid anxiety to get in the way. And it's clear you love those guys so much, and you were so excited to introduce us..."

"Sweetheart, I love you too. Your feelings and comfort are important. If I'd known it was too much, I wouldn't have dragged you here. We could've waited or introduced you slowly."

Tears well up. "God, Dick, I just wish I could be like you. You're always so good at this stuff."

"Aw, baby." Dick tenderly kisses your cheek. "That's the product of years of media training. I don't like crowds either. I mean, I like people, but I get overwhelmed, too. We all do. Not like my family's much better. Jason doesn't like unfamiliar places. He has to case out a new restaurant at least three days in advance."

"Jason was dead for two years. He has an excuse."

"Okay, point," Dick allows. "But seriously, honey, we're all like that. B despises those parties he goes to. He's always exhausted afterward. It's all smoke and mirrors. The team has their tough moments too. And the way you feel isn't stupid. I'm sorry I wasn't more attentive to it."

You sit like that in silence for a while, Dick hugging you. Slowly, your heart rate returns to normal. You start to feel more regulated.

"Wanna go home?" he asks gently.

You shake your head.

"No, I wanna meet them. But..." You groan into his shoulder. "I totally made a fool of myself."

"No, you didn't. It's okay. I promise they don't think any less of you. They were worried, actually. And I told them to take it easy with the interrogation."

Dick slips his hand into yours and squeezes. You take a deep breath.

"Okay," you say. "Let's do it."

Dick smiles. "Alright. I got you the whole time, love."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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thesiltverses · 1 year ago

Note

I don’t know who types up the ask answers on this blog but to whoever’s reading this: how do you all feel about being alive and sentient? What keeps you going, what purpose propels you through this chaotic void? What do you think (or hope) waits for you after your inevitable end? What do you think constitutes a life well lived?

I'm going to answer this in the most wayward and stupidly overlong manner possible, because the previous ask had me thinking about puppets, and I was already mid-way through writing up a book recommendation that's semi-relevant to your questions.

Everyone (but especially people who've enjoyed The Silt Verses and all the folks on Tumblr who loved Piranesi by Susanna Clarke) ought to seek out Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban.

Riddley Walker is a wild and woolly story set in post-apocalyptic Kent, where human society has (d)evolved into a Bronze Age collective of hunter-gatherer settlements. Dogs, apparently blaming us for our crimes against the world, have become our predators, hunting us through the trees. Labourers kill themselves unearthing ancient machinery that they cannot possibly understand.

A travelling crowd of thugs led by a Pry Mincer collect taxes and attempt to impose themselves upon those around them with a puppet-show - the closest possible approximation of a TV show - that tells a mangled story of the world's destruction, featuring a Prometheus-esque hero called Eusa who is tempted by the Clevver One into creating the atomic bomb.

Riddley himself, a twelve-year-old folk hero in-the-making surrounded by strange portents, ends up sowing the seeds of rebellion and change by becoming a conduit for the anti-tutelary anarchic madness (one apparently buried in our collective unconscious) of Punch 'n' Judy.

It's a book in love with twisted reinterpretation, the subjectivity of interpretation, buried or forbidden truths coming back to light (the opening quote is a curious allegory about reinvention and cyclical change from the extra-canonical Gospel of Thomas, which is a good joke and mission statement on a couple levels at once) and human beings somehow stumbling into forms of wisdom or insight through clumsy and nonsensical attempts to make sense of a world that is simply beyond them.

It rocks.

The book starts like this:

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. He dint make the groun shake nor nothing like that when he come on to my spear he wernt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the reqwyrt he ternt and stood and clattert his teef and made his rush and there we wer then. Him on 1 end of the spear kicking his life out and me on the other end watching him dy. I said, 'Your tern now my tern later.'

Riddley's devolved language - a trick which has been nicked/homaged by many other works, most notably Cloud Atlas and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome - is a masterwork choice which may seem offputting or overwhelming at first, but which has its own brutal poetry and cadence to it, and ultimately which makes us slow down as readers and unpick the wit, puns, double-meanings and playful themes buried in line after line.

(Even those first five sentences get us thinking about cyclical change, ritual and myth in opposition to the dissatisfactions of reality, and 'tern' to paradoxically indicate a rebellious change in direction but also an obedient acceptance of inevitable death.)

In one of my favourite passages in literature and a statement of thought that means a lot to me, Riddley has been smoking post-coital weed with Lorna, a 'tel-woman', who unexpectedly declares her belief in a kind of irrational, monstrous Logos that lives in us, wears us like clothes, and drives us onwards for its own purpose:

'You know Riddley theres some thing in us it dont have no name.' I said, 'What thing is that?' She said, 'Its some kynd of thing it aint us but yet its in us. Its lookin out thru our eye hoals...it aint you nor it dont even know your name. Its in us lorn and loan and shelterin how it can.' 'Tremmering it is and feart. It puts us on like we put on our cloes. Some times we dont fit. Some times it cant fynd the arm hoals and it tears us a part. I dont think I took all that much noatis of it when I ben yung. Now Im old I noatise it mor. It dont realy like to put me on no mor. Every morning I can feal how its tiret of me and readying to throw me a way. Iwl tel you some thing Riddley and keap this in memberment. What ever it is we dont come naturel to it.' I said, 'Lorna I dont know what you mean.' She said, 'We aint a naturel part of it. We dint begin when it begun we dint begin where it begun. It ben here befor us nor I dont know what we are to it. May be weare jus only sickness and a feaver to it or boyls on the arse of it I dont know. Now lissen what Im going to tel you Riddley. It thinks us but it dont think like us. It dont think the way we think. Plus like I said befor its afeart.' I said, 'Whats it afeart of?' She said, 'Its afeart of being beartht.'

While Hoban is, I think, deeply humanistic to his bones and even something of a wayward optimist, the notion of human beings as helpless and ignorant vessels, individual carriers - puppets, if you like - for an unknowable and awful inhuman power-in-potentia and life-drive that lacks a true shape or intent beyond its own continued survival (even when that means destroying us or visiting us with agonising atrophy in the process) conjures up the pessimism of Thomas Ligotti, another big influence on our work and a dude who was really into his marionettes-as-metaphor.

Let's go to him now for his opinion on the thing that lives beneath our skin. Thomas?

Through the prophylactic of self-deception, we keep hidden what we do not want to let into our heads, as if we will betray to ourselves a secret too terrible to know… …(that the universe is) a play with no plot and no players that were anything more than portions of a master drive of purposeless self-mutilation. Everything tears away at everything else forever. Nothing knows of its embroilment in a festival of massacres… Nothing can know what is going on.

Curiously, both Ligotti and Riddley Walker have appeared in the music of dark folk band Current 93, whose track In The Heart Of The Wood And What I Found There directly homages the novel and ends with the repeated words,

"All shall be well," she said But not for me

These words, in turn, hearken back to Kafka's* famous reported conversation with Max Brod:

'We are,' he said, 'nihilistic thoughts, suicidal thoughts that rise in God's head.' This reminded me of the worldview of the gnostic: God as an evil demiurge, the world as his original sin. 'Oh no', he said, 'our world is only a bad, fretful whim of God, a bad day.' 'So was there - outside of this world that we know - hope?' He smiled: 'Oh, hope - there is plenty. Infinite hope, just not for us."

So, we walk on.

We carry this thing that's riding on our backs, endlessly bonded to it, feeling its weight more and more with every passing day, unable to turn to look at it. Buried truths come briefly to life, and are hidden from us again. Perhaps they weren't truths at all. We couldn't stand to look the truth directly in the eyes in any case.

If there is hope, it's for the thing that looks out from our eyeholes, which thinks us but cannot think like us. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. There's no hope for it. Perhaps we don't want it to win anyway. It's nothing, and the key to everything.

The Jesus from the Gospel of Thomas says:

'When you see your own likeness, you rejoice. But when you see the visions that formed you and existed before you, which do not perish and which do not become visible - how much then will you be able to bear?'

Kafka, writing to his father, begins by expressing the inexpressibility of his own divine terror:

You asked me why I am afraid of you. I did not know how to answer - partly because of my fear, partly because an explanation would require more than I could make coherent in speech…even in writing, the magnitude of the causes exceeds my memory and my understanding.

Kafka concludes that while he cannot ever truly explain himself, and that the accusations in his letter are neat subjectivities that fail to account for the messiness of reality, perhaps 'something that in my opinion so closely resembles the truth…might comfort us both a little and make it easier for us to live and die.'**

It doesn't bring comfort to Kafka, whose diarised remarks both before and after the 1919 letter make it clear that he views his relationship with the things (people) that birthed him as an endless entrapment that prevents him from attaining any kind of self-actualisation or even comfort, since he cannot escape their influence or remember a time before them:

I was defeated by Father as a small boy and have been prevented since by pride from leaving the battleground, despite enduring defeat over and over again.

It's as if I wasn't fully born yet...as if I was dissolubly bound to these repulsive things (my parents).*** The bond is still attached to my feet, preventing them from walking, from escaping the original formless mush. That's how it is sometimes.

Samuel Beckett returns again and again (aptly) to this pursuit of a state of true humanity and final understanding that is at once fled and unrecoverable, yet to be born, never to be born, never-existed, endlessly to be pursued, pointless to pursue. From the astonishing end sequence of The Unnameable:

alone alone, the others are gone, they have been stilled, their voices stilled, their listening stilled, one by one, at each new-com- ing, another will come, I won’t be the last. I’ll be with the others. I’ll be as gone, in the silence, it won’t be I, it’s not I, I’m not there yet. I’ll go there now. I’ll try and go there now, no use trying, I wait for my turn, my turn to go there, my turn to talk there, my turn to listen there, my turn to wait there for my turn to go, to be as gone, it’s unending, it will be unending, gone where,where do you go from there, you must go somewhere else, wait somewhere else, for your turn to go again

I’m not the first, I won’t be the first, it will best me in the end, it has bested better than me, it will tell me what to do, in order to rise, move, act like a body endowed with despair, that’s how I reason, that’s how I hear myself reasoning, all lies, it’s not me they’re calling, not me they’re talking about, it’s not yet my turn, it’s someone else’s turn, that’s why I can’t stir, that’s why I don’t feel a body on me, I’m not suffering enough yet, it’s not yet my turn, not suffering enough to be able to stir, to have a body, complete with head, to be able to understand, to have eyes to light the way

From Thomas' Jesus:

When you make the two one, and you make the inside as the outside and the outside as the inside and the above as the below, and if male and female become a single unity which lacks 'masculine' and 'feminine' action, when you grow eyes where eyes should be and hands where hands should be and feet where feet should stand and the true image in its proper place, then shall you enter heaven.

Tom's Jesus makes a particularly Gnostic habit of both insisting that the hidden will be revealed and demonstrating the impossibility of attaining a state where the hidden ever can be revealed. Contrary to C.S. Lewis, we will never have faces with which to gaze upon the lost divine and the mysteries that shaped us, and crucially, as Christ puts it, we would not be able to bear the sight of ourselves if we did.

We will never become the thing that's riding on our backs.

Jesus again:

The disciples ask Jesus, 'Tell us how our end shall be.' Jesus says, 'Have you found the beginning yet, you who ask after the end? For at the place where the beginning is, there shall be the end.'

The Unnameable:

I’ll recognise it, in the end I’ll recognise it, the story of the silence that he never left, that I should never have left, that I may never find again, that I may find again, then it will be he, it will be I, it will be the place, the silence, the end, the beginning, the beginning again, how can I say it, that’s all words, they’re all I have, and not many of them, the words fail, the voice fails, so be it

The final passage of The Unnameable, which often is hilariously shorn and misinterpreted as an inspirational quote about how if you don't succeed, try again:

all words, there’s nothing else, you must go on, that’s all I know, they’re going to stop, I know that well, I can feel it, they’re going to abandon me, it will be the silence, for a moment, a good few moments, or it will be mine, the lasting one, that didn’t last, that still lasts, it will be I, you must go on, I can't go on, you must go on. I’ll go on, you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know. I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on. I’ll go on. †

We bear this thing that's riding on our backs. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. If it was born, it'd be too terrible for us to bear. There's nothing riding on our backs.

It will never speak us into being.

We keep on calling out into the silence, we keep trying to explain or understand the thing that's riding on our backs, searching for a way to birth it before we die. Our words about the thing are crucial, and they're meaningless, and they're all we have, and they're nothing at all. We cannot name it and we cannot express it, but we cannot stop trying, and we will keep turning back to our words about the thing, obsessing over them, tearing them to pieces, putting them back together.

I'm fumbling at something I can't think or say, but fumbling is all we're capable of. There could be beauty and meaning and comfort in the fumbling, but it's also vain, and foolish, and pointless, and we're lying to ourselves about the beauty and the meaning and the comfort, and we're indulging ourselves pointlessly by going on and on about the pointlessness of it. Nothing can know what's going on. We will never get close enough to understand without being destroyed.

Thomas' Jesus again, warning those who seek to reveal what's hidden:

He who is near me is near the fire.

Riddley Walker, reflecting on the Punch puppet's inexplicable desire to cook and eat his own child:

Whyis Punch crookit? Why wil he al ways kill the baby if he can? Parbly I wont ever know its jus on me to think on it.

If you got to the end of this, congratulations: but the above is honestly the most appropriate patchwork of what I believe, what propels me, what I feel.

As for what comes after life, I think it's fairly straightforwardly a nothingness we are tragically incapable of fully knowing or accepting - it's Beckett's unimaginable and unattainable silence, a silence that his characters' voices keep on shattering even as they cry out for it.

-Jon‡

*I can't remember if Kafka makes prominent reference to Czech puppets in his work, which is interesting in its own right given the thematic relevance (the protagonist in The Hunger Artist is perhaps a kind of self-directing puppet show?).

However, Gustav Meyrink - who some unsourced Google quotes suggest was pals with Czech puppeteer Richard Teschner - did write a strange little story, The Man On The Bottle, about an audience watching a 'marionette show' who are too wrapped up in performances and masks to interpret the reality that they're actually watching a human being suffocate to death.

**Thomas Ligotti: "Something had happened. They did not know what it was, but they did know it as that which should not be.

Something would have to be done if they were to live with that which should not be.

This would not (be enough); it would only be the best they could do."

***Beckett's Malone Dies actually kicks off with a related sentiment:" I am in my mother’s room. It’s I who live there now. I don’t know how I got there...In any case I have her room. I sleep in her bed. I piss and shit in her pot. I have taken her place. I must resemble her more and more."

† I don't necessarily align myself in humour with Ligotti on a lot of this stuff but I imagine he would recognise both Beckett's writing and Kafka's frustrations re explaining the causes of his hatred for his father as sublimation: finding artistic and philosophical ways of sketching the inexpressible horror and uncertainty of our existence in order to reckon with it at a remove without destroying ourselves. A higher form of self-deception, but self-deception nevertheless.

‡Muna's more of an anarcho-nihilist, I think.

#long fucking post just to say 'i don't know'

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artgeekz · 9 months ago

Text

Ragatha: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Pomni: It was autocorrect.

Ragatha: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Pomni: Yes.

Ragatha: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Pomni!

Pomni: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

Ragatha: I feel like doing something stupid.

Pomni: I’m stupid, do me.

Ragatha: Bro-

Pomni: No, no, hold up, rewind.

Pomni: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

Ragatha: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

Pomni: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Ragatha: Stop.

Pomni: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Ragatha: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Ragatha: Talk dirty to me~

Pomni: Inflation is a serious problem and lumber prices are at a high.

Ragatha: Wha-

Pomni: The economy is in shambles.

Ragatha: What are you in the mood for?

Pomni: World domination.

Ragatha: That's a bit ambitious.

Pomni: You are my world.

Ragatha: Aww...

Pomni:

Ragatha:

Pomni:

Ragatha: OH.

Pomni: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing.

Ragatha: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Ragatha: Wow, Pomni, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Pomni: We literally slept together yesterday.

Ragatha: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

Pomni: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Ragatha is? Because Ragatha is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Ragatha: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Pomni: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Ragatha: That one. I want that one.

Ragatha: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

Pomni: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

Ragatha: Hey, Pomni, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Pomni: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Ragatha: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Pomni: Can't really say I have.

Ragatha: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

Pomni: Sorry, Ragatha. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

Pomni, sweating: Ragatha, there’s something I need to ask you-

Ragatha: Finally! You’re proposing!

Pomni: How’d you know?

Ragatha: Pomni, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Ragatha: I even picked it up once.

Seeing how the first quotes I made were good, here is ButtonBlossom now!

#pomni x ragatha #buttonblossom #ragapom #the amazing digital circus #tadc quotes #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha

84 notes · View notes

dashofmonsters · 3 months ago

Text

Bonds of Blood & Delight- Prologue

Male Fae x F!Reader

"A bard? They'll let anyone in here these days," the gate guard scoffs as he tosses your order badge back at you.

The badge nearly slips out of your hand but you manage to grasp it and refasten it to your cloak. You hate when people call you a bard, even if they're not exactly wrong. You're a mage of the Order of Delight. Yes, a lot of entertainers have come from it but there are serious mages who take their skills beyond just illusions and spell crafted songs.

"I've taken the aptitude test like everyone else and sent in my qualifying spells. I've been accepted because I meet the standards," you frown at the guard as he checks your name.

"Whatever makes you feel better. You'll take a left once the gate opens and go towards the west tower where all the first years go," He sniffles and opens the gate.

You collect yourself and walk forward, trying not to feel too ruffled by the bard comment any longer. You've made it this far on your own with your own brand of spells. You're the first mage in your order to invent new spells in over two hundred years as well as the first to get accepted into the High Tower of magic research and development.

Here you'll be able to make a difference, here you'll be able to learn real magic and create more spells for your order. That, and hopefully learn more about the alchemists that reside here.

You grind your teeth just thinking about them. Alchemy has earned high regards in the world of magical research as of late due to the metal refining and greedy nobles. But it's demanding and requires a lot of blood. Not just normal blood, but blood with mana. There are many black market back alley alchemists who've take to kidnapping anyone with magic in their blood. You're late twin brother perished at the hands of a noble's alchemist and you'd have been next if it wasn't for his newly hired mage. Hendrick was a mage of the Order of Delight hired to entertain but his real job was a search and rescue. Unfortunately, you were the only one left to rescue out of the dozens of orphans that were kidnapped, drained and killed.

If Hendrick hadn't saved you when he did, you'd have followed your brother into an early grave. You recall how he took you in, practically adopted you and taught you everything he knew and then some. He was loud and boisterous with a stage presence that put many seasoned performers to shame. Nobody would ever guess that he was actually a mercenary.

It's funny to think that the least suspecting mage order has the most mercenaries and assassins than any other. Or maybe it makes perfect sense, no one would suspect the killing blow to come from the pretty man playing the flute.

The Order of Delight's underground sect known as The Dirge. It's small with only thirty members and you've been tasked with infiltrating the High Tower. You've spent the last five years crafting new spells that would allow me to qualify to study here, I created a persona that would be unassuming yet stereotypical. No one will know why you're here, least of all those fucking alchemists.

Feeling a bit more resolved you set your nerves aside. This mission is incredibly important in bringing down the alchemy rings and kidnappings once and for all and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't nerve wracked.

Biting your cheek you continue on to the West Tower and up the long winding staircase. The air is heavy with magic and a strange scent of salt water and incense. A guard stops you once you reach the halfway point and asks for your name and order badge. He doesn't give you any grief about what order you're from, in fact he seems to not really care about anything at all.

You decide to start making note of the guards first then since they seem pretty relaxed.

He points to a door to his left where all first years are sorted one by one in an interview given by the head of the West Tower. You've heard very little about this mage save for the fact that they tend to favor those from their own base order. A Daybreaker mage, probably the most logical and pragmatic of anyone here.

You enter the waiting room and see several young mages sitting around a fire rune. You instantly recognize one of them, a childhood friend of yours before you and your brother were kidnapped.

"By the light of the moon!" He stands up and holds out his arms as he rushes to you.

"Luan, it's good to see you," you hug him as he picks you up off the ground.

He swings you back and forth before setting you down, "I know you said in your last letter that you were coming to the capital soon but I never imagined that you meant you'd be coming here."

"And what about you? When were you going to tell me that you got accepted to High Tower?" you playfully shove him.

"It was meant to be a surprise for when you got here," He grins.

You laugh and shake your head, "I can't believe we'll both be studying here."

Luan nods and his sweet smile slowly fades, "Yes, well and then there's that."

You raise a brow and before you can ask him what he's talking about an elderly mage calls for him for his interview.

"That'd be me, we'll talk about it later," Luan smiles and waves you goodbye.

Though it was brief, seeing Luan has eased your nerves a great deal. You two became mages around the same time. You were both rescued by Hendrick however Luan had a knack for shadow and dark magic so he joined the newly reformed Order of Night. The both of you kept in close contact when you were separated and always sent each other gifts for birthdays and holidays.

He'll probably be the only one here who won't laugh at the fact that you're from the Order of Delight.

You roll your eyes and take his place in the circle around the fire rune. The other mages there eye you with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"So...," one of them speaks up, a girl with a badge from the Order of Despair. "A bard? How the hell did you get accepted?"

Here we go, you sigh.

"I have a knack for illusion magic and spell song craft like most bards but I got tired of the old spells that didn't have much practical or everyday use so I invented new ones. The elders here heard about what I was doing and had me test in," you explain.

To be honest it's a half truth, the Order of Delight has a hidden book of spells that The Dirge has full access to. All the spells in it are unregistered so no one would be able to track them back to another mage. You were told to use three or four from the book for your qualifying spells but instead of taking credit you took inspiration. You invented thirty new spells but only sent in seven. Thirty would be too suspicious.

"Sounds like you should have tried for the Daybreak order, practicality is their specialty," another mage chimes in.

"I would have but my family wouldn't let me," you shrug. An easy excuse, most mage families like to stick to the same order.

"Ugh I get that," the girl from the Order of Despair groans. "My folks were the same way, I have light magic and know a few healing spells but no, I had to honor tradition learn mind speak and dream bending. Gods I hate traditionalist. My names Ruya by the way."

You introduce yourself and tell her your fabricated backstory, one that's a bit more cheerful and normal.

A couple other mages open up to you, both from the Order of Bones, Tarek and Ilta... Twins. They both wore the standard skull tattoos on their faces though it looked more menacing on Tarek. They both wanted to join the Order of Delight since they're strong in illusion magic but of course their clan refused them. You knew there was an issue with traditionalist but you had no idea that it was that bad.

"Tarek Falswith," the elderly mage calls to one of your new acquaintances.

He stands tall and stretches, his short black hair shining in the light of the fire rune making his skull tattoo all the more wicked. He glances down at you and smiles, "See ya later bard."

His sister laughs as he walks away, "Just ignore him, he's a stupid flirt. Got himself in trouble time and time again back at our Order."

"Noted," you laugh. "Not looking for love here anyways."

"Not the best place to find it honestly," Ruya adds.

"Our older sister is a third year here and oh the stories she could tell you," Ilta begins. You and Ruya listen to the tales of the twins' sister Asra and her encounters with the opposite sex.

And as she spins her tales, one by one the young male mages are called off to interview until there's only the three of you. Ruya gets called while Ilta is recounting the time her sister wore a deer skull for a month even while she slept and ate to freak out a few of her admirers.

"She sounds crazy," you laugh.

"Oh yes, most say she should have gone into the Order of Twilight with how chaotic she is. But alas-"

"Tradition," both of you say then laugh.

"Ilta Falswith," the elderly mage calls.

Ilta mimics her brother, adding in a wink and the both of you giggle.

"See ya later bard," Ilta mocks her brother again but her voice sounds just like his.

You can't help but to be amazed and amused all at once and laugh as she walks away.

And then it's just you, or so you though.

"Good evening Thaneswell," an elderly voice rumbles your last name.

From the center of the fire run circle a figure slowly appears. An elderly man seated on a simple wooden stool. He's wearing a worn greyish blue cloak with a silver badge from the Order of Daybreak. His eyes are a milky white and his boney fingers tap gently on his lap.

Realizing who he is, you quickly stand up and bow your head.

"None of that now, none of that," He waves a hand and the fire rune dissipates. Ever so slowly he stands up, circling his hand in the air until a staff appears and falls into his hand.

"There is no need to bow amongst kin," he smiles.

You thought it was odd that you and one of the highest mages of the Order of Daybreak shared the same last name, it had to be a coincidence right?

"I did my own digging, my late brother was your maternal grandfather. He was a mage of the same order you belong to, and the same sect as well," He straightens as he starts circling you.

Your nerves reignite and you feel your gut sink.

"The family Thaneswell is not traditional and has members across every order there is. You of course wouldn't know this as your mother passed before you and your late brother were of age. This was," He waves his hand to another door that slowly opens on its own.

"Then my acceptance?" you ask.

"By your own skill, I'm not apart of the qualifying department. I put young mages where they need to be. Skilled and bright mages come here all the time to break from tradition and free themselves from bonds of a family or order. You met three such mages today did you not?" He asks as he lights up the room with a flick of his wrist.

The small room is filled with light crystals and fairy bobbles that produce a soft warm glow. Nic knacks of all sorts both mundane and magical line the shelves and a fat horned cat stretches across the large oak desk.

"Have a seat wherever you can find one," he chuckles as he lowers himself into a puffy armchair.

You turn and look for a chair but you only see mounds of books, small side tables and a taxidermy deer. Small side table it is.

Grabbing a table you pull it up close to the side of the desk as the front is occupied by an old dire wolf laying on a large pillow.

"Now then, let's get down to business. First off within close quarters you may call me uncle, I'd prefer it since we're family. You are after all the only closest living relative I have now," He sighs.

"Wait but you said our family has members in every order," you recall.

"Yes and because of that most of us have become estranged. My brother and his kept close but as the years went by, they were picked off one by one. I only learned of your existence after Hendrick rescued you. I'm so sorry about your brother... had I known... Why your mother never said anything..." he pauses and you see the grief on his face.

"She kept us close to the forest border, in one of the dump villages," you tell him.

His wrinkled face crumples and cringes, "By the gods why would she do that?"

"Hendrick said that the likelihood of us getting kidnapped at a dump village would be slim since the sick and dying are rarely ever kidnapped," you shrug.

"I'm so sorry, there must be more to this... I just know it but at least you're as well as well as can be," He sighs. "Now then, you're a member of The Dirge sect. Very few high mages know of it and I'm only privy of your mission as I'm the one who hired a mage to carry it out. It must have been Hendrick who threw your name in for it."

You blink once, twice and your mouth gapes wide open, "You're the one who- Wait a moment, you know why I'm here then and-"

"The alchemist rings are more corrupt than you can imagine. Both registered and unregistered, back alley and black market. If things continue on as is our nation will have the largest human trafficking outbreak in history. The Western Empire is already calling on our king to put an end to it since citizens of the empire have gone missing in the past few years. They've been putting more and more pressure on his majesty by raising taxes on goods and banning travel between our countries," he taps the desk before slamming his hand down.

"And the laws he made banning unregistered alchemy have been nothing more than a joke, I know. The Dirge has brought down at least fifty rings in the last few years but there seems to be no end to them. What in gods name are they after?" you lean forward, hoping your uncle will have some sort of answer.

"The same foolish thing the registered alchemists are after, immortality. Or at the very least, the next best thing. Long and youthful life, like that of a fae," he waves his hand and a book flings off the shelf and flies right to you.

"The War of Iron and Blood, a history book?" you start to pry the book open but it flings itself to a page near the very end.

"The book leaves out the most important part until the end. A fae specializing in Blood magic was caught and arrested. He is immune to iron and is able to heal himself if he wishes. Since those days long long ago, he has been held here, has been studied, has been bled for research with no real end in sight. I can only imagine what little hope he has if any," the high mage looks up towards the door.

A soft knock rasps the old wooden door, "Mage Thaneswell, it's Dargan, you called for me?"

"Yes yes, come in," your uncle flicks his finger and the door opens.

A tall and lanky mage shuffles in and slowly removes his hood. His skull tattoo looks rather odd on his face with how sunken in his eyes are and how gaunt he is.

"As you'll need to be focusing on your upcoming graduation I've decided to pass off your job to this first year. As you know all fourth years are to hand off their jobs to the new students. I've already given her a history lesson, the rest is up to you Dargan. Oh and once you're done, you'll be allowed a three week respite to recover," the high mage looks to you and nods towards the other mage.

Dargan bows a few times to your uncle and thanks him over and over before he grasps your shoulders, "Of course, yes, I'll get them up to speed and have them trained before then end of the day! Leave everything to me Mage Thaneswell."

"Yes and oh, once you're done could you give my niece a tour of the grounds? I'd do it myself but these old bones don't move like they used to," he smiles.

The Bone mage looks at you and then at the high mage, "Niece? Oh uh yes, yes of course."

Your uncle smiles and waves you off, "I'll be calling you back for a visit soon but please come and see me of your own accord when you can."

Dargan shuffles you out of the office and the door closes behind the both of you. His wide eyes look down at you as he continues to rush you out of the waiting room and down the tower stairs.

"What a horrible thing to do," he shakes his head. "To his own flesh and blood."

"Wait what are you talking about?" you ask.

Dargan stops and grabs your wrist, "This way, not here."

He pulls you aside and leads you down a path that takes you to the North Tower. It hikes up the wall and into a breezeway. The Bone mage looks around and when he's sure no one is in sight he has the two of you sit on the stone cold floor.

"Tell me truly, is High Mage Thaneswell really your uncle?" he asks.

"Great uncle but I fear we're missing the point here so-"

"You're from The Dirge then?" Dargan asks.

Your eyes widen and you grit your teeth but nod.

Dargan lifts his sleeve and reveals a scythe, "The Order of Bones has a similar sect."

"Reapers, I've heard of them," you nod.

"Mage Thaneswell has been hiring from all mercenary sects to take care of the alchemist rings. Myself and four others have been slowly cleaning up the High Tower these last few years, it hasn't been easy." Dargan stars and lays his head against the wall. "I suppose I should begin with what will be expected of you."

The Bone mage details your upcoming job and schedule, the grim nature of it all unsettling you the more he speaks. You're to become the jailor to the captured blood fae. You are to feed him, check his vitals, and collect his blood. You are not to speak to him, not to listen to him if he utters a single word, and you are not allowed to let him bleed unless collecting his blood.

Fear coils in your belly as Dargan tells you all the horrid things the fae could do if he was allowed to bleed out. Slice you up with his blood, set his cell on fire, undo the runes cast upon his chains or turn his blood into weapons and massacre the entire Tower. High Mage Thaneswell doesn't want that, he just wants him to take down the alchemists.

"Your uncle believes if we can find a way to free him that he'll be in our debt and will by the laws of the fae carry out the bounty against the alchemists," Dargan sighs. "Quite the pipe dream huh?"

"Very much so, but fae are keener on magic and can track down different users way better than mage hounds. Plus, he'll have a personal vendetta against them so he might be all for it," you agree and lay your head back as well.

"Still kinda fucked up that he's making his niece take on this job though," Dargan puffs. "But he must have his reasons."

"It's probably because I'll work closely with the Tower's alchemist ring. The more eyes on them the better," you note.

"True, but I rarely spoke with them and even if I showed any interest they kept me mostly in the dark. Get the blood, hand over the blood, and leave. That was the preferred sequence of things," he shrugs.

"Well, fuck..." you groan as you sag against the wall.

Dargan laughs and fishes something out of his pocket, "Here, it's a pass to the Tower. You'll need this to get in, get to the third level and to the cell."

You take the pass and grimace as the blood red runes carved into the small black iron tablet. You could feel the magic resonating off of it, feel it draining a tiny bit of your life essence. You quickly wrap it in your cloak.

"Disgusting, isn't it? They say the pass doubles to strengthen the runes on the Blood Fae's cell. I've tried my best not to over handle it but sometime the alchemists will examine the pass and if there's not enough life in it, they'll make you hold it all day. This job is super fucked up," Dargan snarls and slowly stands then offers his hand.

"Thanks for the heads up I guess," you allow him to help you up then stretch. "Anything else that I should be worried about?"

Dargan shrugs, "Not really, well that's a lie. I'd worry about you dorm placement. Mage Thaneswell pulled some strings and had me bunking with other mercs but I'm not sure how many he's hired this time around."

You nod knowing that it costs a lot to keep up this kind mission. You don't know if he's being funded by the King or if this is his own personal project but hiring you alone costs over three thousand gold.

"I'll introduce you to the alchemists and show you where the cell is real quick before I show you the grounds. Since it's hardly midday we have some time before your sorting," he beckons you to follow and leads you back out of the breezeway.

He takes you back down the wall path and towards the Central Tower, a massive and ancient mage tower built over a thousand years ago before the great culling of the Order of Night.

You feel the magic rolling off in droves with every step you take. The different auras confusing your senses and causing your gut to roil. Dargan places a supporting hand on your shoulder and holds up a hand before chanting a spell that shields the both of you from the onslaught of magic.

"Overwhelming isn't it? Someone here will cast a longer lasting shield on you once you start working. Try not to throw up on the stairs if you feel the shield fading, not only will they make you clean it up but they'll have you manually clean to toilets too," Dargan cringes.

"Sounds like you've been through a lot of hell here," you grimace.

"Hell would be nice in comparison. There's no graces here, no mercy nor kindness to be found. The Central Tower is where mages are truly tested, young and old. Are you certain you can handle this?" Dargan takes a step back and looks at you.

There's real concern on his face, something you feel like you haven't seen in ages. His dull dark red eyes search your face for hesitance and close once he realizes that there's none.

"I have my own reasons for being here, personal and sad as they are," you shrug. "But things can't continue on like they have been."

He nods his head and continues up the stairs, "Fair enough, well then, welcome to the Central Tower." Dargan flourishes his hand and bows. Turning on his heals he points to a bulky guard leaning against the wall, "And this good fellow is Max."

Dargan exchanges introductions between the two of you and has you show the pass. Max opens the barred door to the tower where you're ushered up a series of staircases till you reach the third floor. You're introduced to another guard, Gildred, who you show your pass to. Before you're able to say farewell, Dargan leads you into the third floor lab and quickly shuts the door.

You try and catch your breath but the Bone mage drags you along and takes you down a hall that leads you to a circular room. Several mages clad in maroon cloak turn and glare at you.

"Dargan... has it really been four years?" One of them asks.

"Yes high mage Cragsith. This is my replacement, young mage Thaneswell," he introduces you.

"A Thaneswell? And of.... The Order of Delight? How... Amusing," High mage Cragsith chuckles. "Very well, I assume she's been educated?"

"Yes high mage, of course," Dargan bows his head.

"Good, then you may leave. Estan will show her to the cell, you should hurry and take your respite. I know exams will be starting next month," He waves Dargan off with a limp hand.

Dargan bows and exits with haste, leaving you alone with the High Tower's alchemists.

"You've caught us at an excellent time, we're needing a fresh batch of blood. Estan will take you down and show you the ropes," Cragsith beckons to a hunched figure.

"Follow me," Estan orders and shuffles towards the middle of the room. He places his hand on the central supporting pillar and a door appears shortly after. It opens to reveal a lift that will take you down to the Tower's prison.

Estan tells you that all vials are kept in a desk outside the fae's cell and on a normal day that you'll receive a slip with how many you are to fill.

"He's basically docile at this point. Hasn't been an incident in over two hundred years. It's an easy job, just taxing as I'm sure Dargan has mentioned," Estan says in an oddly comforting way.

Once you're down under the tower and exit the lift, Estan leads you to the fae's cell. He pulls out nine vials from a drawer in the desk and checks them for cleanliness, "Don't want anything but his blood in these."

After his inspection he has you place the pass in a slot on the wall next to the cell. You fell just the faintest bit of your life force slip as the locks turn and door opens ever so slightly.

There's a dank smell that wafts in your nose and the sudden charge in the air has every hair standing on edge.

Estan hands you eight of the vials to hold as he escorts you in. You fear that you might find a horrid and fiendish fae as Dargan lead you to believe but instead all you see is a sad one, bound in chains and leathers with living runes.

What was probably once lovely long flowing black hair is now matted and tangled in several areas. His eyes and mouth are covered with greyish leather that have ancient magic imbued in them. His skin is sickly pale and nails are curled from neglect.

The fear and nerves you felt entering this place disappear and are quickly replaced with pity and then something else. A deep need to free him settles into you and it's one that's beyond your mission or any ethical reason. You feel sicked and in pain at seeing him like this.

"It's just a quick prick right here, same spot every time," Estan interrupts your thoughts as he points to a tattoo of a circle on the fae's arm. As he goes to poke it you quickly ask if you can.

"I learn better by doing is all, that and I want to do well with this job," you say with full fake determination.

Estan chuckles and hands his vial and needle over to you, "I get it, I was the same when I was a student here. Not going to lie, but you're the first Cragsith has really acknowledged this fast, well aside from myself. Maybe he sees some promise in you."

Or maybe he's warry of me being a Thaneswell, you think.

Not wanting to drop your facade, you go and draw the fae's blood.

Bile quickly threatens your throat but you do well in holding back the vomit.

This feels so wrong that it's hard to stomach, is this a curse that the fae has in place? Why didn't Dargan tell you? Maybe you'll ask your uncle later... But first, to fill the other eight vials.

It takes all your strength and will power not to throw up while extracting the fae's blood but you somehow manage. After Estan takes you back up to the third floor and sings praises about your enthusiasm do you ask to be shown to the bathroom.

Once your stomach is empty you resolve to find and beat Dargan black and blue for leaving out the part about wanting to blow chunks when extracting blood.

You stomp your way out of the central tower and down the path to the east but quickly stop in your tracks when a notice echoes through the grounds.

"All first years to the North Tower for dorm sorting. I repeat all first years to the North Tower for dorm sorting," the voice rang.

And before you could take another step you found yourself being lifted for a moment, cold dark air rushing around you, and then you were set back down amongst a crowd right outside the North Tower.

A few others look around in confusion but for the most part people just shrug it off as typical tower magic.

"Hey, over here," you here a familiar voice.

You turn and see Ruya with Ilta, Tarek, and Luan. Quite the odd ball group but you're about to make it weirder, being a bard and all.

"I heard you got to go to central tower, how was it?" Tarek asks.

"And who'd you hear that from?" you raise a brow at him and he grins.

"From a senior of my sect, Dargan," he smiles and shows his reaper mark.

Before you can ask, Ruya, Ilta, and even Luan all flash their arms with the subsect marks on them. They all tell you how they each ran into their seniors here and took on jobs close to or in the central tower. The twins have jobs in the library near the central tower, Ruya brings meals up for the alchemists, and Luan is set to clean the equipment for the central tower.

"Dargan said there's a high chance that we'll get bunked with other subsect members as the Dorm Matron works directly with high mage Thaneswell," Tarek smiles and looks at Luan, "No weird shadowy shit."

"Then I hope you'll keep your knives and bones on your side of the dorm," Luan smiles.

Ilta smacks her brother's arm and Ruya rolls her eyes.

You can feel this group's dynamic setting in place already.

"All first years, dorm mothers will be coming around with dorm assignments. These assignments are final and we expect no complaints. Once you have you receive your dorm and room token you will be teleported there. Potions for teleportation sickness are on the stands outside the rooms if needed," another announcement rings.

Your group looks around for dorm mothers, all middle aged or elderly mages wearing light blue cloaks with yellow ribbons. You've heard many stories about the dorm mothers here and how even the highest mages offer their respects to them. They're truly a force to be reckoned with.

"Here you are... Thaneswell's bunch," A dorm mother approaches your group and looks everyone up and down before turning to Tarek and Luan. "The two of you will go to Mother Margo's dorm, you'll be bunking in room eleven. Here are your tokens."

The two of them reach out their hands with slight hesitation but once they touch the tokens, they vanish.

"I have to say, that's gotta be the second fastest I've seen my brother disappear," Ilta smiles.

"What was the fastest then?" Ruya asks.

"When he found out he broke up with the head Reaper's daughter," Ilta laughs.

"You three," the dorm mother glares at us and then at Ilta, "I expect you to be prompt, never out past curfew, and not a meal skipped. I am your dorm mother, Mother Beatrice. You'll each have your own rooms, connecting. Seven, eight, and nine."

You look at the girls but before either can say anything, Ruya reaches out for her token and vanishes. Ilta smiles at you and shrugs before taking hers. Taking a deep breath in you reach for room token nine and feel yourself being flung around.

Left and right, right then right again. You feel as if you're passing through sheets like a child running through laundry on a sunny day. Warm and cold air take turns at slapping your body before you suddenly snap to a stop and your body slams right into a door with a hard thud.

"Ow," you moan as you peel yourself off the door. Your face stings where it met the hard wood.

You look around and see Ruya doubled over holding an empty potion bottle with Ilta rubbing her back.

"Going to be alright over there?" you ask.

Ruya nods but stays down.

"She was slung into her stand and it knocked the wind out of her," Ilta winces.

"This is why I hate teleportation, too volatile and under studied. Now I know why the fae rarely use it themselves," you cringe at the thought of being teleported again anytime soon.

After the three of you check yourselves over for any wounds and sickness you part to your own rooms.

Your room is cozy and well furnished. A few wooden boxes lay on your bed with a few notes. The first note is a greeting from the towers and what to expect in the coming days. The second is from Mother Beatrice with a list of rules and a meal schedule. The third is from the central tower... A letter just for you.

"Good evening young Thaneswell,

We welcome you to the central tower and have high hopes for you. Estan spoke highly of you and your eagerness, a most welcomed delight, as Dargan was most melancholic. Estan will continue to escort you to the cell for the next ten days as he trains you. We look forward to having a mage with your enthusiasm."

You feel your stomach churn as you finish reading the letter. You quickly crumple it up and toss it in the waste bin.

Something about being on their good side this quickly unsettles you but you'll do your best to turn it around and use it to your advantage. You can't let this continue, too many innocent lives are at stake and you're not sure how much longer your great uncle can keep funding missions like this.

With that resolve you go through the boxes next, supplies and a uniform. Papers, books, ink, and pens. A first year's dark brown cloak and knee high boots with metal plates on the toes and knees. There's a map with local shops and a post office where mages who come to study can send letters and receive parcels.

Next you notice a small wooden box with a stamp from the West tower. You open the lid and see a small mirror, a pouch, a dagger, and a note. You quickly unfold the note and it has instructions on how to use the mirror.

"Use the dagger to prick your finger and sign this rune with your blood. I will be alerted that you wish to speak with me. Only use this in your room or in dire emergencies."

You have a gut feeling that he wants you to try it out know so you prick your finger and write out the rune on the mirror. Within seconds it lights up and an image of your uncle shoots up from it.

"I'm glad my gift has found you. Though I wish we could chat longer I have the head Matron of the dorms coming up to see me. I'll keep this short, get the fae to speak. Get him to talk, get him to listen, and get him on our side," your uncle orders.

You nod but feel sick as you do, "Understood, but I must ask, is there a curse on him?"

The high mage's brows knit in confusion, "Why do you ask?"

"I...I took his blood and I felt sick and there was this wrongness. Like I couldn't stand that I was hurting him, it was odd," you mention.

Your uncle's eyes widen but he says nothing for a few moments too long, "No, no curse. Keep me updated on these, odd feelings. I must go now."

The image of your uncle vanishes and instead of getting an answer to your question, you feel like you've gained a long list of inquiries that will be left in the box.

"What have I gotten myself into," you groan as you flick your wrist and move your things off the bed so you can fling yourself onto it.

At least I'm not alone, you think as you curl up and slowly pass out.

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morganas-pendragons · 10 months ago

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how long | the master chief

people have been digging up my master chief fanfiction with the release of halo season 2. so. here's a new one shot ft my favorite shot of the show! Spoilers for episode 1!

this will be multiple parts as we span throughout season 2. this is loosely associated with you're losing me by Taylor Swift!

A couple of tags for people who've come my way recently wanting Chief fic... @silverpelt3600 @embarrassedauthornerd (who is still getting a Game!John fic at some point) and I know there were more but I literally can't remember :(

***

Being a part of Silver is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s a team. A unit. You aren’t forced to rely on old instincts of survival on your own when you have Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra 117 covering your back.

John. Your John.

My beloved.

He hadn’t been the same since Cortana was removed from his head. You knew why. It was like losing a crucial part of himself, and no one still knew where she was. You both felt her loss so acutely.

You still sometimes turned to call out, “Little love?” In the darkness of your quarters, and waited for “Soles..” to echo back at you. The nickname she’d given you herself.

She’s not dead, but she might as well be.

You had initially suspected that Parangonsky had something to do with it. The woman was as conniving as Halsey, choosing to own the facade of the imperfect military leader with a world of decisions on her shoulders to bear. Her own cross. Just like Halsey.

No one bothered asking though, so neither did you. You and Kai continued to work as The Master Chief's shadows as the months passed. Mission after mission became civilian evacuation after evacuation. ONI was not letting you into combat.

May have something to do with the fact that the entirety of Silver has taken out their inhibitor pellets.

You repositioned yourself between Kai and Vannak as the three of you peered out over the cliff face you were occupying on Sanctuary. "Babysitting duty," Vannak muttered. "Aren't we better than this?"

You snorted and flexed your finger against the trigger of your assault rifle. "We're here to keep an eye on Chief. And this complaint is coming from the guy who indulges in documentaries for fun," You mutter, to which Kai also breaks out into laughter. "And feeds his pigeons."

"I'll have you know-"

Kai nudged your shoulder as John and Riz approached the group of civilians where Captain Shepherd was currently trying to coax their leader, a native priestess, into evacuating. "Shut up and pay attention you two," She teased. "Looks like Captain Shepherd is trying to work on his negotiation skills."

The UNSC had sent the five of you to Sanctuary to evacuate before the Covenant arrived to glass it. That had been happening to a lot of colonies recently.

More often than not, you found yourself huddled next to John in his cot on the nights that the dead just would not stop screaming. It was easier to deal with when you were The Lone Headhunter. When you had your pellet.

When you were more machine.

"This would be so much easier if Cortana was around." You whisper to yourself, thankful that neither of them pay attention to your statement. The AI had become a welcome friend and presence in your life since you'd found yourself becoming closer to The Master Chief. Since you'd found yourself loving him. Loving John.

John hadn't been John in... six months. And you missed him.

They never did say loving from afar was easy.

By the time you were properly paying attention again, John was communicating his position through TEAMCOM as he took off toward the upward cliff face that would lead to where Bravo Team was at. A nagging feeling gnawed at your stomach as you stood to your feet.

"Where is he going?"

"To retrieve Bravo," Vannak replied as he pressed his hand against the side of his helmet. "Comm signal is static. Can't get a clear answer. Seems like there's some type of interference from the relay."

You were already on your way towards John’s location being displayed in your HUD. There was no way you were going to let him do something like that on his own. Especially with his emotions being at such a heightened state since Cortana’s removal, you didn’t quite trust him to make a logical decision right now.

You stopped at the base of the cliff. The fog above loomed above menacingly, like a bad omen waiting to make itself known. You still couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Silver One, this is Silver Five. Come in.”

Static.

Cursing under your breath, you steadied your feet and activated the grapple shot recently installed to your Mjolnir. The tech’s had done it per The Chief’s request. Something about needing his most lethal and stealthy team member to be able to utilize that skill to the best of their ability.

Quick, quiet.

The grapple shot up into the fog and took you along with it.

***

How long has it been?

You ask yourself this question every night you sneak into his bunk while Silver sleeps on either side of you. John sleeps at the far end, prone with his arms at his sides, hazel eyes cast toward the ceiling. This is your curse. You cannot sleep without hearing the screams of those you know who have died.

Those you failed to save.

How long has it been since I've seen John? The real John?

You wordlessly settle at his side when his arm comes up to allow you to tuck yourself into him. Despite being only a few inches apart in height, you automatically feel safer with your cheek pressed against his chest and the bulk of his muscle sheltering you from any outside threat.

It's the whisper of your name that catches you off guard. "Soles.." John's voice cracks in the darkness as you lift your head high enough to meet the gaze that stares back at you. Despite how much he's changed since losing Cortana, you can still see remnants of the very broken man he has been trying so hard to hide. "When does it end?"

"When does what end, John?"

"The war."

You know very well he isn't talking about the Human-Covenant War. He's talking about the internal war that Spartans face when they're able to feel too much. The conflict of being made to be more machine then man. More soldier. Being forced to execute orders despite knowing they're morally wrong.

"I don't know.. but I don't think it ever will."

How long has it been, since the two of you had been able to just enjoy each other? To be at peace?

***

Too long.

You were barely able to get your footing before a hand was wrenching you into the dark. Your visor tipped upward to meet the glowing gold of The Master Chief's before you, just barely concealing the lone marine who stood petrified behind him.

"You shouldn't have come, Silver Five."

You shrug noncommittally. "I don't care, Chief. Sitrep." You remarked sharply as the two of you moved to pull the girl between you. It was the only way she'd be protected without any kind of armor to shield her from the threat in the fog.

"Something's in the fog. The Covenant were here before we were-"

It's only then that you see the Elites lingering in the shadows. Decades of instincts and training immediately kick into gear as you remove your weapon from your belt - a newly obtained energy sword, courtesy of the last high ranking Elite who'd tried to rush you - and activated the blade before charging at your nearest opponent.

Blood spattered against your armor while John continued to cover you from behind. They yell at you. Mock you. Call you Demon. You know enough to understand that singular word in their mother tongue.

You cut them down anyway. You are Sierra-343. You are built for this.

But ONI is determined to keep you from it.

***

The glassing beam is terrifying. You haven't quite been afraid for your life in a long, long time... but the stinging heat that comes from it sears the back of your armor as you sprint across the field to the Condors.

The Priestess was not about to let The Master Chief leave the planet without prophesying over him.

"Find your faith, Spartan. I have seen your death." Her eyes slowly shift to your fingers wrapped around The Master Chief's wrist, desperately urging him forward to the Condors where Kai and Vannak were waiting for you. "You are not long for this world. It comes soon. "

How long?

You're running against the clock as the three of you sprint into the Condor just in time for it to take off. Breathless, you cast aside your helmet to stare at the amber hue of fire as Sanctuary is overcome by the glassing beam from the Covenant Carrier.

***

Ackerson spent the first several days of his time in ONI working on you. As his Lone Headhunter, he saw you as an asset to utilize with a skill that far outweighed Silver Team combined.

"Do you think that at his core.. The Master Chief is broken?"

Unarmored and dressed in your civilian clothing, you stared out at the open expanse of Reach City right beyond the window.

“I think that The Chief is a human being who had undergone a significant amount of trauma in a very short amount of time. I think ONI overlooks that because the only use he has to them is to be the hero you need on the front lines of a war we’re not going to win,” You replied coldly, turning around to face Colonel Ackerson with your hands neatly folded behind you. “Do you have any other questions that pertain to my role in Silver Team or my history as a Headhunter, sir?”

“I am not your enemy here. You know that. You’ve undergone some of the most extensive types of torture under covenant hands from your time on The Exalted.” You froze at the remark, disdain and anger flashing across your gaze as you met his eyes. “You are remarkable. Resilient. I want that for the future of what we have here. I do not wish for such contempt to come between us.”

“Then I would prefer you keep my past and my trauma out of conversation.” You motion towards the door to ONI’s main office. “Am I free to go?”

Ackerson flashed a tight-lipped smile. He knew you would be the most difficult to crack on Silver Team. Kai had said as much. Given your involvement with the Spartan Two program and how quickly you'd taken to working with a team, he'd anticipated you would be loyal to them.

He hadn't anticipated the extent of how loyal you'd be to The Master Chief though. There must've been something there. Something else the others didn't know about.

"Yes, you are. Thank you for speaking with me."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard that you tasted blood as you and John locked eyes passing one another in the main doorway of the ONI office.

He'll have questions for you later.

***

Kai caught John's gaze wandering to you as you and Riz continued working on your hand-to-hand on the gym floor. There was just something so graceful about the way you moved, and the way you looked...

"Hey, Chief," Kai's voice broke through his reverie as John turned away from you to gaze at the monitors near the lockers. "Come take a look at this."

You narrowly avoided an uppercut to the jaw as you attempted to tune into Keyes speech where he was awarding Talia Perez a Colonial Cross. You knew the truth though. A truth that Ackerson was not hearing, and a truth that John had attempted to get Ackerson to reveal during their meeting.

He didn't breathe a word. And unfortunately, when he'd intercepted you an hour later, neither did you.

How long since you stopped trusting me, Soles?

"Turn it off." Vannak demanded. "I've heard enough from this guyat debrief."

"What questions did he ask you?"

The main point of conversation between you both again rang in your ears as Riz moved to sweep your legs out from beneath you. Do you think that The Master Chief is, at his core, broken?

Dread bubbled in your stomach. Did he know?

Did Ackerson know about you two?

You didn't have enough time to react as Riz swept your legs out from underneath you just as Cobalt Team walked into the room. You didn't bother learning any of their names. You just knew you hated the blonde one the most.

Riz extended a hand to you just as she approached you both. "You see, this is why you don't go taking your pellet out. Makes you emotional." Cold blue eyes regarded you as you both stepped into her space. "Makes you weak."

Your eyes narrowed. "You know, for someone who's barely encountered The Covenant.. Tell me. Who endured torture at the hands of high-ranking Elites aboard a Covenant Cruiser for months before I got myself out?"

"And who's to say you're not a whining Covenant sympathizer now?"

Rage flashed behind your eyes as you lunged and very nearly caught Val, had it not been for John winding his arms through yours to keep you from making a rash decision.

You weren't paying attention to anything else that was said until Cobalt was gone. John bent to whisper in your ear, "Stop trying to get yourself killed, Soles."

You wrenched yourself from his grasp and jabbed your finger into his chest angrily. You weren't mad at him, persay. You were mad at the place that loving him had put you in. That loving him was now a way to be exploited. And you swore you wouldn't be in that position again when Halsey was gone. When you became part of Silver.

"Then stop trying to protect me, Master Chief."

But they had spent years telling you a very simple truth: You were a machine created to serve a singular purpose. Machines were not conditioned to feel.

And they certainly did not love.

***

You didn't come to John's bed that night. You didn't come for quite a while after that, and he then determined that you were the one thing he feared you to be.

A liar.

And he didn't understand why you were hiding it. Why were you hiding what happened on Sanctuary, and why were you avoiding Ackerson? What had he asked you?

Why were you running?

***

He wasn't expecting this. The whole point of coming to this place was to find some semblance of her, something that offered comfort in the way Cortana would have if she were here.

She wasn't dead, but she may as well be.

He swiped his credit chit and sat down with his hands in his lap. "I don't really know what people say to each other. And the one person I want to talk to right now is..." John swallowed the knot in his throat. "Isn't themselves. And I'm-"

"Lost?"

"Yeah. I think there might be something wrong with me. That's why they ran. They figured out there's a part of me that's missing. Sometimes there's a sound like something in my head is there that doesn't belong. And maybe it's part of you that got embedded in me."

"Oh, sweetie... You miss them, don't you?"

John grimaced. He did. He did miss you and Cortana. He'd give anything to go back to that medical table where he'd kissed you the first time.

He was so deeply engrossed in his memory of Sanctuary, of seeing Makee, of hearing her voice, that he didn't even notice you come in. You stood in the doorway with your hood concealing your face and slowly lowered it as John stared up at you in shock.

There wasn't just shock there though. There was... desperation.

How long since you willingly let someone in?

"Soles?"

"John. We need to talk."

part two?

#The Master Chief x Reader #Master Chief x Reader #Halo spoilers #halo paramount #halo fanfic #Sierra 117 x Reader

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