#he RUINED his portrayal of Apollo

[if-i-had-a-voice-i-would-sing]

I haven’t had the energy to write up a full recap for the 18th Feb show, but I had a great time! The audience was a lot less unruly than my last visit, which was a relief, as that had really ruined my previous visit. In summary:

Loop 1:

Followed Artemis for the first time and I am in love with her choreography, she dances in the way that I prefer to when I choreograph, and as such she’s risen to the top of my ‘dream roles’ list. Weirdly despite being transmasc, I found this portrayal of her to be especially Gender, and now I’m considering growing my hair out just like her. Her movements are so playful yet animalistic, and the stone table dance with Apollo is simply stunning, as is her choreo in the resurrection scene. I’m also obsessed with the costuming for her and Apollo, the way the silicone bodysuits shift under different lighting, and the way they enhance every tiny movement. Artemis’ cackling atop the girders is always a standout moment for me, it gives the performers a chance to really lean into their own interpretation of Artemis’ more cruel tendencies.

Loop 2:

Followed Iphigenia/Hecate for the first time, got her 1:1 at the end of the loop. I was enamoured by the lighting & sound design used in that tiny 1:1 space, plus her performance of a text that felt veeeery familiar as someone who’s seen SNM NY (if you know, you know). Combine that with the familiar red dress, and you have a great little crossover Easter egg for fans to pick up on. Finally got to see the fabled bear ritual, and it is so much weirder and more uncanny than I’d even imagined, I was having flashbacks to Midsommar the whole time. Iphigenia’s loop was even more heartbreaking after seeing Artemis’ first, knowing the whole time that this excited, innocent girl never had a chance at happiness. Even when she’s smiling and laughing, we know that it can never last, yet all the same we hope that maybe this time it’ll turn out differently. This loop combined with Artemis’ also leave me intrigued about the oracle, and they’ve now been added to the long list of characters I need to follow.

Loop 3:

Located the bar (for the first time in all 4 of my visits!!) and chugged a LOT of water before returning to Troy, and quickly found Askalaphos, following him through the streets and back to his florist shop, arriving in time to see Hecate & Patroclus pass through. Watched as he picked up the roses and then selected someone for a 1:1, leaving me alone in the shop. I wandered over to the sake bar and found Hades leaving, so I followed him to the Troy finale (which was a blast, as always) and then found myself at the front row of the circle for the Mycenae finale. I was being offered a walkout (not sure who by, I can almost never tell performers apart when they’re sans-costume lol) when someone walking out behind me accidentally tripped me over, and by the time I’d regained my bearings the actor had chosen another WM to escort out.

All in all a wonderful trip, and as the wiki is slowly but surely becoming more helpful for researching loops, I hope that I’ll find it easier to follow some more long-admired characters. My next visit is on the 5th of March, so I’m currently trying to figure out who I want to prioritise following. I never like to have any iron-clad plans, as I feel that tends to ruin some of the fun that spontaneous discoveries can bring, but I’m definitely leaning toward wanting to see some of Kronos, so perhaps I’ll follow Polymestor & Polydorus as well, and do another show of intertwining loops. Equally though, if I run into Hades or Persephone, I can’t promise that I won’t cave and spend a whole show with them. Or maybe I’ll finally catch all of Apollo’s loop, or see more than a glimpse of Kampe! At least I have another week or so to consider my many wonderful options.

Due to there being no under 25s tickets left in April or May, I’ll soon be facing a 2 month drought until my June show, and I’m already so sad at the thought of being without this beautiful dreamland for so long 😭 I’m genuinely listing “be closer to woolwich for shows” as one of the pros to potentially moving back to London (and not even solely because I’m still dreaming that one day I could work for Punchdrunk lmao).

I don’t really know anyone who’s a fan of TBC, so if you’d like to chat about the show and your experiences/theories/recommendations on things to look out for, I’d love that! My DMs are very much open for all things theatre and mythology :)

[booloodle]

I got a comment on my ongoing longfic which made me change the order of my writing. I want to talk about it, because it has been a learning experience.

Spoilers for Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney

So, I wanted to expand on that one line where Kristoph calls Vongole his best friend and says that she bites. Which is odd, because why? Why does she bite?

So, I took a step back and thought.

Dogs are great. Mine’s an idiot, but most dogs are great.

They are often really good judges of character, and sometimes can sense when something is wrong.

And I think that having a skull in the back of your hand would count as something wrong.

So the plan was to plant the idea that Kristoph and Vongole are close, like Kristoph is taking good care of her. He’s strict and enforces his boundaries more, but that’s not a bad thing.

But also she keeps biting him, and only him. And only his right hand. He moves on, avoiding putting it near her, but if it gets too close to her she’ll go for it.

Originally, the fact it was the right hand was meant to appear a lot later on. I mean, like, maybe after his arrest or just before, during the planned passing of Vongole to Klavier.

But a commenter expressed worry about her being abused, and I realised I didn’t clarify some things.

1) I didn’t say that he grabbed her collar with his right hand. I rewrote the scene so that it could be missed out, maintaining the mystery so that it wasn’t solved immediately.

2) I tried to make her look like her heckles were up, like she was being defensive, but it also comes off as fear.

I have not tagged animal abuse or harm, because that is not my intention. It’s a topic which makes me deeply uncomfortable so I really don’t want to write it.

But also, I don’t want to upset anyone or to ruin the mystery, that feeling of figuring out something on your own.

So, I’ve moved stuff around.

At the beginning of the chapter up next, the idea of it just being him and just being his right hand is cemented. I also clarify it is not abuse. That might be excessive, but I am not writing Kristoph as any more evil than his canon portrayal, and he is openly fond of Vongole.

Plus, I modelled Vongole off of my own dog.

It’s derailed the next few chapters a bit, but I feel as if the mistake is on my part, not the commenters. I haven’t responded to the comment yet (it is still in my inbox) but I want to thank the commenter for bringing it up as a possibility. I’m aware of the importance of proper tagging and how sensitive of an issue animal abuse can be, so if the small changes of my story can help make someone more comfortable and while reading it, I’m more than happy to shift stuff around.

[percabeth4life]

Yes, I know the myths aren’t literal, I am a Hellenist.

The canon of Percy Jackson treats them literally. Which is a bad decision, but it’s a central conceit of the entire franchise so I figured it was something we were both forgiving in this instance.

So. You admit that Hera is cruel in punishing those who transgress on her domain, and yet say that Hera manipulating and using Jason and his loved ones is out of character?

Making the myths literal changes what the Gods are. This is the entire point Of how Rick characterizes them. Taking the myths literally, they would mostly be rapists and sadists.

I know that the Gods are intelligent expressions of the world’s natural forces, I’m a reconstruction dodecatheist. A bit of a new one, in the name of intellectual honesty, but it's been years and I've researches how to properly modernize the traditions.

Unlike you I am not quite rude enough to say you do not understand your Gods, but you do not understand how these fictional stories compare to our Gods.

Zeus transgressed the sacred loyalty of marriage by having Jason, so she used Jason as a central pawn without concern for his welbeing.

If anything, Rick twists the myths to make these the-myths-are-literal Gods more forgivable characters. He writes Apollo as mourning Daphne's fate for her own sake as a person, and regretting his behavior.

Okay anon, this is the last of your asks that I’m answering. I’m hitting block for anymore after this.

EDIT: so turns out you sent three asshole anon comments on top of this one, probably trying to appear like different people disagreeing with me. But I hit block on one of those, making all the ones from that IP address get auto-deleted so :) You look like so much of a bitch rn for doing that. Doubt you can see this since you’re blocked, but good luck <3

It’s fine to have different beliefs, and I encourage it. Hellenism is a widely varied religion.

But I draw the line at you disrespecting me like this. Having your own beliefs is wonderful, but saying that I don’t understand how these compare to our Gods, when I know all too well that they don’t and that’s why I’m complaining is incredibly rude.

His stories are not my Gods, but the fact is that most everyone who doesn’t bother to look things up thinks it is shows just how much he’s shaped the view of the Gods. The number of times I have to point out to people that, no, those aren’t the Gods, no, the myths don’t work like that, no that’s not how it works is ridiculous. My blog is where I combine my beliefs and mt enjoyment of the books and compare and contrast them.

I’ve seen people say that Hera should divorce Zeus, literally mythological Hera and real Hera, and solely because of how Rick shows it. Because they only care about Rick’s views.

Just because you don’t take offense at the way he portrayed them, doesn’t mean I can’t. Don’t you dare try to police my way of interacting with my Gods.

Rick does not take the myths as actual existence, he takes his preferred version, adds to them what he wants, doesn’t research the reality of them, and then makes up more to make things worse.

Hera is cruel mythologically and specifically to Zeus breaking his vows to her. I have actually never once said that her manipulating Jason was out of character, doing a mythological portrayal would have that.

But what is inaccurate is her shoving Nico out of the family tree. It’s her kidnapping people and wiping their memories to use as tools (like say, PERCY). It’s her stepping in years ahead of time and doing basically nothing but being present. It’s her insulting them, ignoring their needs, manipulating their situation, not caring for their family, not caring for her family, dismissing her children, and more.

She aids them when it suits her, not because of their needs. She manipulates all of them, not just the one that directly insulted her.

Her taking offense to Annabeth’s disrespect? yes, accurate. Her anger at Percy? At the rest of the children? The dismissal of pain of others who do things for them?

That is not my Queen.

You came in and said Rick portrayed the Gods accurately. I said you were wrong, and to say so shows a misunderstanding of the myths. I did not say you misunderstood the Gods, that is not my place to say. But the myths? Yes. The way you spoke in your first ask (not to mention the inaccuracy of the myth with Zeus and Hera) read as someone who did not know the myths or their purposes or the Gods as a whole and took Rick’s portrayals as literal.

Also, the way you’re policing my relationship with the Gods and the media depicting them is far more insulting then me pointing out that someone I did not know was a Hellenist was wrong.

And you bring up Apollo? The God I work with more than any other? And dare say Rick made him more likable?

Rick said he was in the wrong for punishing those who broke sacred oaths with him.

Rick said he was in the wrong for punishing the birds who took a job for him then failed it of their own disinterest or care as if those very birds aren’t sacred to him.

Rick made up a myth saying Apollo bullied a God he’s never shown interacting with solely to make him look worse.

So yeah, I don’t agree with you. And while you have a right to your beliefs, I have a right to be angry at how you’re trying to police mine.

[aeroargonic]

My thoughts on Lore Olympus

Trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault and pedophilia.

I've kinda been getting into the Webtoon scene recently. Out of all the comics that I'm keeping up with, I find Lore Olympus probably gets the most attention here on Tumblr. Obviously, I can see why it appeals to a lot of people; combining Greek mythology, a very popular Greek myth at that, with a modern twist and some really beautiful art. I am not gonna claim to be an expert on Greek mythology because my own knowledge on it is spotty at best lol.

As much as I want to enjoy Lore Olympus, there's a couple of things in the story that jump out at me and are really hard to ignore. This is where we get into the trigger warnings so I'll put this under a cut just in case.

BTW, please keep in mind this might be a one-off thing. I am not turning my blog into a Lore Olympus blog.

The biggest issue is obviously the age gap between Hades and Persephone. I have no problem with them having a big age gap, but she's barely an adult. Even Hades calls her a teenager at points. There's also the fact that she's an intern at his company...where he's the boss. So far, we've seen very little of her actually doing the work she'd be assigned as an intern and Persephone herself even notes that she may not be entirely qualified to do all the work. There's the age gap, then there's the power gap. There's just too much opportunity for Hades to take advantage of a vulnerable Persephone for their relationship to be as healthy as the writers want it to look. For a comic that seems to pride itself on its progressiveness with body types and healthy relationships...

Yeah. Persephone is severely sexualized. Now let me say that there is nothing wrong with her body type at all; everyone matures and grows differently. What I do have a problem with is that a lot of her clothing either just barely covers her butt, or leaves a decent amount of her cleavage exposed. While she is a grown adult and can dress herself however she pleases, please refer to my earlier point where Hades calls her a teenager. A lot about Persephone's appearance and personality seems to suggest a childish sense of immaturity. Legally and physically, she may be an adult. But she looks and acts so much like a teenage girl that she might as well be one.

Then there's what happened to her and Apollo. Personally, I think the writing sexual assault the way it was written in the comic is a sign of lazy writing. By the time it happens, Apollo has been established as having no redeemable qualities whatsoever, and the seriousness of the scene is constantly danced around, as if the sexual assault was only intended to exist for shock value and nobody is too interested in exploring the repercussions and trauma that come from this. There seems to be a reoccurring theme where any male god or character in the story shows a certain amount of interest in Persephone. Obviously, Hades and Persephone are the endgame and Apollo believes that he's somehow entitled to have her. Ares makes out with her, Hermes seems to have a crush on her, and even Thanatos can't bring himself to hate her.

Speaking of Thanatos and those who are against Persephone, I wish we could go a bit deeper as to why Minthe and Thetis feel the need to ruin Persephone's relationship with Hades. Having it just be jealousy is pretty shallow and kinda reduces Minthe and Thetis as characters. So much of both their personalities revolve around being in relationships with their bosses. Again, somewhat lazy writing to me. Minthe had potential to drop Thetis and change for the better, but she just went straight back to Thetis the second the opportunity to get dirt on Persephone came up, which ruined the point of a couple of chapters beforehand for me.

Many of the female characters in this story, I find, seem to get shafted in terms of development. If they're not entirely on Persephone's side, like Hera, they get a negative portrayal of sorts. Minthe and Thetis are jealous bitches, Hestia is a hypocrite, Demeter is controlling, and Artemis is a meathead who is completely oblivious to Persephone's plights. Even those who are on Persephone's side, such as Daphne, are noticeably lacking in the characterization department. But for a lot of these characters, both male and female, a good chunk of their development revolves around Persephone. Granted, she is the main character is a wanted fugitive, but I do think this amount of obsessions is silly and takes up too much personality from a lot of characters.

Am I calling Persephone a Mary Sue? Well, not quite. But she's this sweet and innocent and pure little bean with a bite when she needs it. Obviously, whenever she's mean or snarky or turns someone into a plant, there's always a justification for it. Basically, rarely is anything actually Persephone's fault. She doesn't seem to take a lot of responsibility for her actions and while it might not be in Hades's character to get seriously mad with her for the plant thing, he had no problem yelling at her earlier for a less serious deed. Persephone's anger is a mess storywise. We're supposed to believe that she has limited control over her powers and her act of wrath was an accident (because, as I've established, she's supposed to be this pure and innocent woobie), but she was well aware of her actions and intentions when she turned Minthe into a plant.

I realize that I've been saying quite a lot of criticisms against Lore Olympus, so I'll throw some positive things that I do like about the story. I like the concept of Olympus being much more modern than the mortal realm. It's been hinted at that some nymphs are treated worse than others, and I hope we get an opportunity to explore that further. I genuinely was excited when Minthe snapped back at Thetis to see Minthe get redemption of sorts and learn to change her ways for good. Alas, that potential plot appears to be thrown out the window. Also, I love Eros and Athena. They've got to be some of my favourite characters.

So, here's all my ramblings and rantings about Lore Olmypus. Not to call myself a stan or anti or anything, because I believe you can still enjoy or participate in content while keeping a critical eye on it; the way I see it, you should never blindly follow or hate upon a work. Nothing is perfect and Lore Olypmus is not perfect. There's a lot that could be improved and added or retconned. It clearly isn't going to follow the original myth entirely and I don't feel well-educated or familiar enough with the original myth to talk about how faithful Lore Olympus is. Same with the art. I think the art looks lovely, although there are some obvious oversights with colouring and body proportions. I'm certain someone else can sum that up better than I can.

But hey, if all else fails, Punderworld exists. And that's a really good comic too.

So for now, I'll just follow this work and see what happens next.

[quinntamsin]

By the Holodom of Olympus, SPOILERS AHEAD

CW - Sexual Assault, Gore, Harsh Language!

*Takes a shot of Ouzo and sighs.* Blood of Zeus is one of those animes that has a lot of good going for it. But at the same time has a lot of predictable as shit tropes. First, anyone who has -any- basic knowledge of the Olympians will see the portrayal of Zeus in this serious as more than a little problematic. Let’s not ignore the way how it treats the philandering asshole as somewhat nice and romanticizes his relationship with Electra. Or once again Hera is woman scorned bad guy. This is all entirely, fucking predictable. If Hera wasn’t voice by the one and only Claudia Christian aka Bablyon Five’s Susan Ivanova I would have ignored her entirely as a villain.

Overall, this is a story that creates a unique idea. It plays with the gigantomachy and recreates the giants as eldritch abominations. And to be honest more than a few sites have explain the bakground of this series as fast and loose. But that’s every single -bloody fucking- Olympian infused series since time imemorial. Hercules the Series readily had Zeus killed by his wife and portrayed Apollo as a lover of poisons and assassination.

The truth is the Olympians are children, as they are portrayed, and Zeus is rapist. How te story in this is treated is at times, painful, and at other times its okay. Blood of Zeus is at its best when we aren’t seeing Heron as lost child and Zeus as a father figure. Hell, the fact that Zeus dies just before finally acting like a shitty father is poetic justice into itself. But Heron’s story is solid when it’s about his pain and anguish. Of how HIS father abandoned him and basically -ruined- the life of his mother for the sake of it. Of how HERA unjustly once again takes out her hatred on the victims of her Husbands abuse. If anything Zeus death in this series is made all the more vivid when Hera reaches out and he explodes in godly thunder.

Now ignoring -all of this nonsense- the demon cult AND the more abusive lets kill all the women story of Seraphim is interesting. If anything, this series really just takes the concept of the Olympians as King Abusers to a new level. Unlike Seis Manos or Powerhouses other work, Castlevania, this series feels a little less lived in. The sad nihilism of Dracula is just not her. This is all about the fucked up pain of a godly family who -cannot get over manipulating itself-.

Harsh critique aside, as a fun watch it’s enjoyable. It’s no One Piece or Owl House, but for an action Anime it’s less irritating to watch than most -of Evangelion-. I really do hope it get’s a second season because Powerhouse has shown that their cynical horror action series are -best- when the present story is extended. I can only hope that characters like Alexia and Evios are giving more screen time. That we see -MORE- of the fucked up lives of the Olympians and more of the awesome caring pretty boy who is Apollo.

For that though we’l have to see. Personally I’m hyped for more mexicanime in Seis Manos than this. But I’m only jumping on this band wagon if Hera gets’ a redemption arc like she did in Xena!

[melting-puppets]

Unbeta-ed rant about Scarlett St. Claire’s Hades and Persephone’s series. 

(spoilers will not be hidden; those who haven’t read the books, read at your own risk) 

This is sort of short rant...I hope. So I have been honestly hyped from various forms of media; tumblr, Pinterest, etc. about “a Touch of Malice” by Scarlett St. Claire. It’s Hades and Persephone, everyone’s favourite myth (second favourite for myself~) and how could any contemporary myth loving nerd doesn’t want to read it, right? 

I’ve never read ‘a Touch of Darkness” or “a Touch of Darkness” until today, but I have just went through the first book, three-quarter way finished with the second book and I just have to...I just have to stop there. At that scene where Hades up and asks Persephone to marry him after a trip to the Iniquity.   

I just...cannot. I cannot anymore. I can’t do this. 

The...portrayal of Hades and Persephone’s relationship is...astounding to put kindly. I...What freakin’ development has there been in the first two books? I CANNOT PUT UP WITH THE UTTER BS THAT I AM SUPPOSE TO BELIEVE THAT THESE TWO ARE HAVING AN ENVIABLY HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP. 

Okay, I hope nobody disses me about ‘if I dislike it so much stop reading’ but I am probably going to finish reading to see how it ends because I must. I need this book to introspect here. On Hades, On Persephone. On everything that is horribly frighteningly wrong about this novel and it’s portrayal of love. 

There’s no love here at all, and it makes my heart break. I feel frustrated for Persephone at every turn because at no point does she get control or form of footing with Hades, and it hurts. It’s like I’m baited to believe that she actually could be his equal but the writing *weeps* I’m despairing at the writing! Hades ruined to become an insatiable sex god, and Persephone unable to have any sense of agency when it comes to him. Hades caging and grooming and just basically manipulating Persephone at every turn and it isn’t beautiful at all. It doesn’t make my heart flutter or make me cheer for them-- instead it only just makes me want to cry because please stop, stop doing this. Stop! STOP!

Persephone’s drowning in him *cries* She isn’t finding herself, but learning to normalise Hades’s controlling behaviors, his stalking, his possessiveness, and that isn’t healthy. Persephone isn’t able to control whenever Hades comes to see her, Persephone isn’t able to ever have any privacy of her own-- basically going to Iniquity knowing full well that it is inevitable that Hades would find out. Persephone isn’t told of anything, consulted or even acknowledged whenever it comes to big decisions--for example the threats made by Apollo, Hades solved her problems, because he “cared” for her. He “loved” her. 

THAT IS TOTAL CRAP. That isn’t love. That’s possession. That’s erasing any agency and independent thought from your partner and making them accept only your decision as the best solution. ThAT’S USING SEX TO SUBDUE & MISDIRECT THE CONVERSATION, PREVENTING ANY COMMUNICATION AND SWEEPING IT UNDER ARUG BECAUSE WOHOO, nobody could resist carnality can they? Nobody can keep it long enough in their pants to even use they freakin’ brains and work this out like a pair of intelligent people. 

This rendition of Persephone is disheartening. This portrayal of Hades is just devastatingly disappointing. Where’s the substance the relationship? Where is the heart and brain without the arousal and attraction? The narrative is so flat...

I’m sorry but Scarlett St Claire’s portrayal of Persephone isn’t the defender of the people that I was hoping to see. Neither was Hades able to measure up in my eyes. 

This isn’t a hate letter by the way but I’m just...disappointed. I felt betrayed as a myth enthusiast-- and even as a contemporary myth enthusiast. It’s just...toxic. 

And if anyone wants my point of comparison-- because I suck at being just as eloquent as those who could write analysis and beautifully agreeable opinions that doesn’t offend anyone (sorry for offence by the way), I’d recommend those who read this (I doubt that anyone would but for few precious souls), to give this AO3 author’s take on Persephone a read. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023145

Artemysia93 (the author) way of building the relationship between Hades and Persephone and even Demeter, is simply, wholesome. It’s an ideal. And I just wish to have seen a similar in-depth perspective when I had read Scarlett St. Clarie’s novels. 

I’ll close this on the note that ‘a Touch of Darkness’ and ‘a Touch of Ruin’ just... propagates very toxic forms on what a healthy relationship should look like, the kind of things that I’ve seen most YA/Adult authors have been trying to learn to get past and rectify it. The male lead is a laughable caricature of what a man or partner should act like, and the female lead fails to prove that she is any better than the hopeless portrayal society has on women. In the end, they aren’t made to be equals. The disparity is there, and it hurts to see it. 

[askaceattorney]

Dear Starry,

Phoenix, more than likely, will forever be single. Be that because of his burn with the whole Iris/Dahlia thing or him just being too busy being a dad to everyone under his roof or something else entirely, he’s a single father through and through.

Phoenix’s capacity for love extends beyond romance to this intense care for everyone around him. He would throw himself in front of a car or steal a boat to pilot it to the middle of the ocean for one of his friends. The man is altruistic to a fault, even getting disbarred for a man he met the day before because he was his client. That’s nothing in the face of trying to run across a burning bridge to save Maya or becoming a lawyer at all to try and save Edgeworth. Maybe Phoenix won’t have a romantic interest ever, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have plenty of love. That could even be the reason. He’s not going to put anyone above anyone else when he has such strong bonds.

-The Mod

Co-Mod: Well said, The Mod!  Good to see you here again.  I don’t have anything to add to that response except that Phoenix seems to be more focused on his work and friendships than his love life.  It might not sit well with his daughter, but a man has to have his priorities.

Dear Anthony,

Obviously the most rumor stirring first kiss would be with Charley, as he is waaaaay out of Apollo’s league. The sender would not matter as it would likely end in Apollo himself being blamed and berated for making up such false claims in an attempt to ruin the pristine reputation of that fine slender palm lily. Coincidentally, this would also be the most chaotic.

-The Mod

Co-Mod: The most chaotic scenario involving a letter to Apollo that comes to my mind is one from Ms. Tiala.  It’d be the perfect way for her to get revenge on him for not living down to her standards, and might even start rumors between the more gullible members of the WAA (Athena and Trucy) that the two of them are in cahoots.

The most chaotic situation overall that I can think of is an ultimatum from Athena to Phoenix, stating that she refuses to do any more lawyer business unless Trucy finds another lovely assistant.  That one might even come to blows.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Inferno,

Co-Mod: I have to agree.  I’m honestly starting to wish it was a real show now.  I bet there’s a fortune to be made with it.

(Video in Letter -- Epilepsy Warning)

Dear Starry again,

Co-Mod: That’s a work of art right there.  I especially liked how all the defendants are lined up at the end, followed by all the culprits.  Here’s a great big Co-Mod Seal of Approval for it:

And don’t ask how hyperlinks are supposed to work on paper.  I’d just as soon explain how Widget’s software works.

(Previous Posts)

(Previous Letter)

Dear yuesworld,

Co-Mod: I sure do!  Great to hear from you again!  And congratulations on translating over 1000 letters (and thank you)!

I’m also glad to hear that you’ve been able to glean so much good stuff from this blog, and that goes for everyone else that applies to.  I’ve said this before, but one of the greatest achievements for a comedian, whether on a blog or somewhere else, is helping people with negative feelings replace them with positive ones.  I’m no stranger to depression myself, so I know how great it feels to leave it behind.

And for those of you who think that I and the other new Mods aren’t as good as The Mod..........well, you’re probably right, but that’s hardly a fair comparison.  He’s been at this way longer than we have.

I’m glad your friend liked the response to their letter.  I always like when a letter gets deeply emotional or nostalgic, so I try to respond with the same level of emotion, whether it’s joyful, sad, bittersweet, or a different emotion.  That’s one of the things that makes these characters so relatable, after all.

And needless to say, I’m very glad that people from around the world have been able to find some connection in their love for Ace Attorney.  Thank goodness for both this series and the internet!  And thank you again for your contribution to it.

Dear mungeondaster,

Co-Mod: I don’t remember anything in the games that answers those questions, but I can imagine Athena driving a used car whenever she needs to, as someone who enjoys travel more than the others (as mentioned in this letter).  I can also see Apollo driving something, but according to the Mod’s headcanon, he bikes everywhere, and I’m not one to question that.

This of course means everyone else has to carpool with Athena or Edgeworth in order to get anywhere by car.  You can probably guess which one they’d go with.

Dear Curious Lassy,

Co-Mod: I’ve been dealing with some mild illness (not coronavirus, thankfully), but I’m doing okay.  Thanks for asking!

The rule against roleplaying, as I’ve interpreted it, means that you can’t pretend a character in your letter is in the same physical location as the character you’re writing to, or have them physically interact with them (patting their shoulder, punching them, etc.).  As long your post can be interpreted as a written letter in some way, I won’t count it as roleplaying.  I admit it’s sort of a stretch with letters that include avatars, but I prefer to be liberal with those.  I can also be tempted to break the rule if a letter is clever enough, as in this recent one, or this one from a couple years ago.

I could be talked into using a tag for those letters, depending on what you had in mind -- was it something general like an “Avatar” tag, or the specific game, “Fate/Grand Order”?  The first one we could do, but I’d rather not to use the names of non-Ace Attorney games in the tags.  There’s no way we could keep up with them all.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Andrea,

Co-Mod: That was me.  My bad.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to find anything that likable about the Phantom (or my portrayal of him), so thanks for that.

Dear...Co-Mod?

Co-Mod: But...But I don’t..........

Well, I guess I can’t argue with myself.  Nice knowing you, folks!

-The Mods

P. S. Stay healthy, everyone!  Safety first.

[uribo-in-space]

Star Trek TOS First Time Viewing  Reaction - S2E2: Who Mourns for Adonais?

DISCLAIMER: I have seen some TNG and Voyager when I was a child and later the AOS movies as a teenager. I felt quarantine time was the right moment to begin the ambitious project “Star Trek marathon 2020/(2021?20??)”, meaning I’m going to watch all of Star Trek starting with TOS finishing with Disco (or maybe we have Strange New Worlds by the time I catch up haha). I started TOS last month and I AM LIVING. IT’S AWESOME and sparks so much joy. I decided I could just write up my thoughts as I am viewing it for the first time as a memory of the experience, not knowing most episodes at all. So, there we go.

Spoilers obviously - just in case somebody else is 50 years late like me, haha.

Opening scene: Scotty flirts with a female lieutenant on the bridge. So far so cute. What about the dialogue from Bones and Kirk accompanying this scene though?

MCCOY: I'm not sure I like that, Jim. KIRK: Why, Bones? Scotty's a good man. MCCOY: And he thinks he's the right man for her, but I'm not sure she thinks he's the right man. On the other hand, she's a woman. All woman. One day she'll find the right man and off she'll go, out of the service. KIRK: I like to think of it not so much losing an officer as gaining SCOTT: Come along. (He and Carolyn enter the turbolift.) KIRK: Actually, I'm losing an officer.

like - what? I had to rewatch this scene to fully understand what they’re saying. I think it’s interesting that, despite TOS being like 50 years old now, I find it easy to forget we’re actually in the 60s/70s when binge watching. Watching it now is sometimes a weird meta experience as you tend to overlook elements that were considered super futuristic in the 60s but are perfectly normal now, so that you actually miss some FUTURISTIC elements because you’re living those aspects of FUTURE already. Yes, of course women quitting their jobs after marriage still happens, but it is not considered a “rule” or “natural order of events” anymore, and is (talking from a western perspective) more of a choice and you would not assume this happening automatically. Especially if you produced an utopian sci-fi series today, that concept would probably not be included. Anyway, it’s pretty interesting that female Starfleet members seem to drop out of service after marriage and it is not considered something a captain or anyone can do something about in the future (I mean, apparently the men still continue their service? I only have divorced Bones for reference so far though). Anyway, TLDR, I am not judging the 60s relics as they are a product of their time, I think they are rather an interesting addition to the viewing experience in 2020, considering the writers did think this concept would persist in the far future. Back to the episode.

IS THAT A GIANT HAND IN SPACE

I love that Chekov casually assumes he has hallucinations - like bro do you have reasons to believe that and what did you do in your free time

This hand really kills me. I also could not believe what I am seeing but I love it

Spock stating he is not offended because you need emotions to be offended - interesting, Spock, so what happened when Kirk pulled a yo mama joke on you in that Paradise Hippie Love Romance Pollen episode (man that was a gem of an episode)

Chekov has one of the most HILARIOUS lines in that episode (next to having one of the most hilarious hairstyles, his hairstyle looks like an interesting over the top take on the Beatles haircut and his head looks so much like a mushroom I feel like he has a side job in Mario Kart):

APOLLO: Search your most distant memories, those of the thousands of years past, and I am there. Your fathers knew me, and your father's fathers. I am Apollo.

CHEKOV: And I am the tsar of all the Russias.

KIRK: Mister Chekov.

CHEKOV: I'm sorry, Captain. I never met a god before.

Chekov be sassy to gods

I can’t let this haircut go, as it got me thinking: Is there a hairdresser on the Enterprise?

That’s a thing to explore

What gossip that person might hear sign me up

So, the guy really is the God Apollo huh

Costume note 1: That toga Apollo wears is SO SMALL like - “SIR nice to meet you but you’re REVEALING THINGS please sit with more modesty OR - NO NOT LIKE THAT”

Costume note 1, addition: Nice to see the ratio of revealing costumes of men & women wearing sexy revealing clothing in this episode is very equal

Apollo really has a worshipping kink huh

But as a Greek god you probably have that

Also where ARE the other gods? Like he just casually says they are all gone... “with the wind” but... why? Did they suffer from worship withdrawal like he does now?

Also: I really LOVE the concept they introduced that the Ancient Greek gods were just a bunch of space travellers visiting Earth who decided to chill there for a while and be all powerful and worshipped. But as Kirk says in the end they were a huge factor for mankind to move to the Golden Age, which is a cool thought.

Seriously what a fun premise? I would watch that as a series. Hera, Artemis, Zeus, Apollo etc. all chilling on their ship and having fights and romances and space adventures on strange planets. I imagine them being a really chaotic and high-maintenance bunch though

Thinking about it, Apollo said he was a demi-god with a human mother (if I understood that correctly) so basically he was born on Earth and never saw (what I assumed is) their home planet until he was an adult and they returned (why did they return?)? But the Enterprise crew defeats him by finding out his “god powers” are actually originating from the temple structure on the planet, so does that work long distance then?? Like they could access their home planet powers from far away...? And not the powers themselves are passed down by genes but rather the access to it? Or is it that they need worship to thrive (like that’s why it worked on Earth and they just need a temple?) Questions over questions. Love the concept overall.

Kirk, Scotty and Chekov talking about energy patterns and science and how to defeat Apollo (also Chekov you’re such a smart boy! and he says he is only 22 in this episode awwW and the others are looking at him like - wow a child is with us) and Bones just randomly... grabs a bowl of fruit, holds it a bit and puts it aside - as I saw no note for that in the script I think it was improvised by Kelley... but why? Like was somebody from the staff whispering last minute “oh no that bowl is ruining the shot take it away subtly if you can”? It really startled me but it’s kinda funny.

Chekovs hair is even more FLUFFY and voluminous in this scene like did they bring the Enterprise’s hairdresser with them? (It’s cute)

CHEKOV: Perhaps if I assisted. KIRK: How old are you? CHEKOV: Twenty two, sir. KIRK: Then I'd better handle it.

Also I like protective Scotty in this episode. I think it is one of the first times he really gets some character development and proper screen time

Kirk being choked by Apollo is on the thin line of really intense acting and passing into Shatners school of overacting but - it works so I am giving a thumbs up for very INTENSE acting

I feel somebody shouted at him “MORE INTENSE” “MORE MOANING” “INTENSITYYY” “BE MORE CHOKED”

Lieutenant Carolyn is kind of a weak character and is pretty much the embodiment of a 60s ideal of a woman but HELL she is beautiful

Costume Note 3: I actually like the cut of her costume, it is an imaginative take on the toga and also sexy - I was surprised they aired it like that tbh - like from one side it looks like she is topless really

Costume Note 3 addition: but then HOW did they fix it? Like she’s not wearing any kind of bra and the fabric is not attached to anything so I guess they glued it to her skin in a lot of places huh - also there is a scene with a storm and a strong wind where I feel the way she tries to protect and cover herself is not just acting but really an attempt by the actress to catch her costume from flying away and not trusting the glue the costume people used

I don’t want to imagine how many wardrobe malfunctions she had with that costume and how many times she stood there topless in front of everyone so... idk

I guess same goes for Apollos costume lol so fair

On a more positive note on the portrayal of women is Uhura’s role here. Her in that mechanics uniform building a bypass circuit in that crammed space under her console (she still has her full hairdo which gets all squished oh NO and the hairdresser is down on the planet fixing Chekovs mushroom!) - you go girl

UHURA: Mister Spock, I haven't done anything like this in years. If it isn't done just right, I could blow the entire communications system. It's very delicate work, sir.

SPOCK: I can think no one better equipped to handle it, Miss Uhura. Please proceed.

Thumbs up for the supporting Spock.

Also I love every time Spock takes over the Bridge. It’s so cool.

So that’s all! Overall a campy episode at first look but I was pleasantly surprised by the concept of the Greek Gods being space travellers etc. Thumbs up for that giant hand too (pun intended). I like to imagine that like with episodes that play in a middle-age setting they just had a set from another movie lying around and thought - how can we make this a strange planet - but that’s really part of the charme of it for me.

This was a long text huh.

BONUS QUOTE (or rather BONES QUOTE?) - as it was my favorite:

MCCOY: To coin a phrase, fascinating. 

[breath-of-void]

So, Birds of Prey was fun, right

Not necessarily good, but it was fun.

I haven’t seen any actual reviews of it so, from my point of view, there are two main problems with it: it took like an hour and a half to start Birds-of-Prey-ing and it wanted to be Deadpool soooooo bad.

Spoilers abound.

So, I’m not actually that familiar with the Birds of Prey from comics. I’m aware that they’re an all female superhero group, but, other than Black Canary, I wasn’t aware of the other members. In fact, I thought Harley was originally a part of the BoP and so I saw no problem that this was a Harley Quinn movie AND a Birds of Prey movie; they were the same thing, right?

Wrong, but they movie is hardly interested in telling you that. The entire first 2/3 of the movie is a Harley Quinn movie. She has the voiceover, she’s explaining what things are happening and why and the camera is almost always on her back except when she’s explaining something and they want a visual. The Birds of Prey don’t even actually get together until Harley is physically there. They remain a team after she leaves, but that’s a footnote. If anyone came to see the other BoP kick ass and take names, they would be sorely disappointed as the ladies dance in time to the Harley Quinn’s narration.

It’s also so crowded as Harley has to explain the backstory of Huntress, Renee Montoya, Black Canary and herself while also making space for Roman Sionis. I love Harley and I love Margot Robbie’s portrayal of her, but that really works against her as Harley’s fractured psyche tries to explain a movie to us.

Then there’s the shameless copying of Deadpool.

Now, as a character, Harley is amazing. I tend to like insane comic book characters as that usually translates to them being hilarious if not terrifyingly dangerous, but she doesn’t lend herself well to being a fourth wall breaker. I don’t know if it’s a thing she does in the comics or if Ryan Reynolds just did it so well that he ruined it for everyone else, but BoP felt jarring and unfocused with Harley constantly stopping things to go back and explain something or just to have a chat. 

It may just be a personal preference, but it felt like Harley had watched BoP and was tasked with telling us, the audience, what happened.

There are a lot of elements that felt kind of lost, ignored or not fleshed out. 

Aside from the Birds themselves not being given enough screen time, their name seems to be chosen at random. At the end of the movie, after Harley ditches, she just tells us that they chose the name ‘Birds of Prey’ with not even the barest of reasoning. There was a scene just prior where there were all just eating lunch and even a throwaway line referencing the future team name would have been nice.

Bruce the hyena was there too, I guess. He got more screen time than Jared Leto in Suicide Squad, but there’s really nothing done with the fact that Harley has this wild animal on her side. Cassandra never really bonds with it for some sweet, emotional catharsis (in fact, she bonds with the stuffed beaver) nor does Bruce feature in Harley’s plans. He’s just kind of there until he gets “blown up”.

Bruce the Batman was strangely lacking as well. One of my biggest gripes about Suicide Squad is that the other heroes of straight up shown and yet, when Enchantress decides to rip open the sky, they’re Apollo-knows-where. When Harley is asked about her backstory, she mentions that she was arrested by the Batman, but that’s where his involvement in this movie starts and ends. No, I didn’t want another character in this already bloated movie, but I would like some explanation as to why Gotham’s protecter is just ignoring this obvious gang coalition who are blowing up public places indiscriminately. I feel like it’s a fundamental misunderstanding of what Marvel does when they name drop their other properties. When Thor is mentioned in Spiderman, it’s to explain why he can’t be there to solve this problem himself, etc. BoP did it to say “Hey, she said Batman y’all.” 

What would I, as a person who has never made a movie, do differently?

I would have more Harley and Cassandra hijinx. The movie almost struck me as two parts Deapool and one part Logan. Cassandra is being hunted by every bounty hunter in the city, but finds refuge with Harley is bad, but not evil. Their scenes together are adorable and I think the movie would have benefited from more scenes with them together.

Drop the wonky timeline. It was okay, maybe once, but it got really old, really fast. Even to the point where they showed Huntress killing a group of thugs while Renee was surveying the crime scene (they had a flashback of something no one had any memories of). 

At the beginning, they had an adorable animated sequence set to Harley’s narration as she explained her backstory. During it, as she was saying that she was the mastermind behind the Joker’s biggest heists, they showed her stealing a diamond and the Joker taking it from her. The macguffin of this movie was a diamond. I think it would have lent itself well to Harley’s lack of focus that she had the macguffin all along and just didn’t know it. Or if Cassandra had stolen it from her or, or, OR if the Joker still had it and the BoP+Harley had to heist to get it back. I like this last one much better as it would give Harley a chance to test her new freedom from her puddin’.

In conclusion:

I know this isn’t the most cohesive collection of thoughts, but it’s what I thought anyway. I had fun with the movie, really I did, but I wouldn’t pay to see it again.

[makotokyoqoku-archived]

Hello! I’m trying to read more of the Authority, but I know that there are some writers that might be better to avoid, especially in the case of midnighter and Apollo. I was wondering if you could recommend which writers to avoid?

oh dear, literally all of them except warren ellis & steve orlando. I'm just gonna name the writers:

robbie morrison; wrote the authority vol. 2 (2003).

mark millar; wrote the authority vol. 1 #13-29 (1999-2002). also wrote the secret history of jenny sparks which.. basically ruins her entire character, so avoid that.

grant morrison & keith giffen; the authority vol. 3 [aka the authority: the lost year & the authority (2006)].

garth ennis; wrote the kev series (the authority: kev, the authority: more kev, and the authority: the magnificent kev). he & keith giffen also wrote midnighter (2007) so avoid that as well. (if you want to know why, heres posts I made about why it's so bad: ruining his relationship w jenny q, his daughter, and a general review of the comic.)

john ridley; the authority: human on the inside. literally made apollo an abusive husband & midnighter gets assaulted by another person.. all just for the drama so yeah... big yikes. just avoid it like the plague it is.

chuck dixon; grifter & midnighter (2007). literally the same kind of portrayal of midnighter as ennis' and giffen's.

literally just avoid anything written by keith giffen, it's not worth your time at all.

whoever wrote stormwatch (2011).

and I wouldn't say avoid it as much as this is a warning but since hes proven to be a shit writer, honorable mention: ed brubaker literally made jenny q a csa victim/survivor just for the drama and shock value of it all so.. yeah. he wrote the authority: revolution; it's a pivotal comic that doesnt portray either apollo or midnighter in a bad way but, again, it uses child sexual assault as a shock value.

so yeah. that's all of the writers. just... avoid all of these comics & writers like a plague because that's exactly what they are.

[luckedout-gone]

ON CLINT’S TATTOOS

he has a lot of tattoos,  and the list keeps growing honestly.  the reason he’s got all of these dates as a part of many tattoos is because he’s lowkey terrified that he’s going to forget one day.  and he thinks that by having these tattoos / dates permanently inked onto his skin,  he won’t forget.  so anyway,  let’s start with the tattoos that are present in every verse (even though some are more specific to different portrayals than others) 

the first tattoo he ever got was a white ink tattoo on his ring finger.  it consists of three bands.  a thin line,  a thick band,  and a thin band.  he got it initially because he was worried he’d lose his actual wedding band.  but then it was just.... less distracting to clint to not wear his ring in the field.  he doesn’t go to any great lengths to cover up this tattoo.

the second tattoo he got was a mockingbird in flight on his chest,  just to the left of his heart.  beneath the mockingbird is the date that he met bobbi.

the third tattoo he ever got was for natasha.  he’s not a huge fan of spiders,  so rather than getting a black widow tattooed on him,  he opted for just the red hourglass.  in the bottom of the hourglass is the date that he met natasha / made the different call.  

the fourth tattoo he ever got was for francis.  it’s his birthday and initials on the inside of his right wrist.  in most verses where franics was not born,  he keeps it covered with a watch or a thick bracelet because it’s painful for him to see.  but he’d never get rid of it. 

found near the top of his ribs on the right side of his body is the tattoo for jessica and luke.  monochrome interlocked circles.  simple, clean, and forever linked together,  which is how he often perceives jessica and luke to be.  on each side,  he’s got their initials,  and when dani is born,  he gets her initials tattooed in the middle.  

beneath the circles,  he’s got elektra written in greek.  outlined in a deep red because that’s the first color he ever saw elektra wearing. 

beneath that,  he’s got braille lettering that spells out daredevil.  he thought about scarification to have matt be able to read it,  but ultimately decided against it because he figures,  eventually a knife or a bullet would ruin the effect.  the tattoo itself is done in a black to red ombre to reflect matt’s growth from just a vigilante running around in black athletic gear to daredevil. 

beneath that,  just a little below his ribcage,  is a small green and yellow dragon for danny. 

just below his right collarbone,  he gets a tattoo of a spider’s web for peter.  it would’ve been put with the defenders,  but he put it across from bobbi’s tattoo because peter is important to bobbi (and to himself but lbr... peter is closer with bobbi).

on his left shoulder blade,  he gets a tattoo for peter q.uill.  though.... from a distance,  it could be mistaken for a tattoo for all members of the guardians.  it’s the guardian’s emblem but filled with galaxies.  just beneath it,  pete’s initials are done in xandarian. (or perhaps whatever language is predominantly used by the spartoi)

on his left hip,  in black indk,  he’s got asl fingerspelling of ‘echo’ for maya l.opez.  it’s echoed on in white ink on his right hip.  

on his right hip,  above maya’s tattoo and below danny’s,  he has that tattoo the avengers cast got because he’s too lazy / impatient to get individual ones for the avengers.  

on his left wrist,  he has a tattoo for kate.  it’s her name atop an arrow.  all done in the hawkeye colors of blue and purple.  he did not tell kate he was going to get that done.  he just showed up one day with it on display. 

for wanda and pietro,  he got the constellation of gemini tattooed on his upper right forearm (even though they are not geminis).  it also doubles as a tattoo for himself and barney—a headcanon that i’ll post later when i find it in my archive—which is what he’d tell wanda if she ever asked about that specific tattoo. 

behind both of his ears,  just a few days after the bandages come off from kazi stabbing him in the ears with his own arrows & stripping away the last of clint’s hearing,  he gets the mute symbols tattooed.  he thought it’d be a good way for him to accept what happened to him,  but if anyone asks him about the tattoos shortly after he gets them,  he breaks down.  it’s only a few months later that he really accepts it / can joke about the tattoos. 

after finding out that gerry is his son,  he gets a yellow hourglass tattooed on the inside of right ankle for jessica d.rew.  on the outside of his ankle,  he gets gerry’s birthday and initials tattooed.  as gerry grows / possibly develops a superhero identity,  he’ll add a symbol. 

VERSE SPECIFIC TATTOOS (or rather,  even more verse specific than the defenders / wanda & pietro / the drews / peter q.)

umbrella academy    he gets the roman numerals for 1-7 tattooed in a ring around his left ankle.  he’s aware it’s kind of a dick move to get numbers after reginald,  but he thinks it’s something that very few people would recognize.  each number is personalized with the corresponding hargreeves’ favorite color.  it’s unlikely that he’d ever show the hargreeves that tattoo.  it’s more for his own remembrance than anything else. 

percy jackson / hoo    he gets the symbol of the godly parents for each of the seven of the great prophecy + nico tattooed on his right bicep in a line.  rather than getting the symbol for mars tattooed on his bicep for frank,  he discusses it with the boy and they both agree that they’d like for apollo to represent frank since they both dislike mars / ares.  they’re all done in black ink,  but outlined with colors that are most closely associated with the deity in question. 

percy jackson / hoo   additionally,  after the quest,  he decides to go to camp jupiter and serve in the legion for a while with some of the greek campers.  it’s equal measures of wanting to be a familiar face for the kids / wanting to learn more about the roman demigods & new fighting styles that he’ll promptly ignore the second he actually gets into a fight.  as such,  he gets the spqr tattoo / brand on his right forearm.  and despite it all,  he still gets the symbol for mars on his body.  

[scarlettlawyer]

Part 4 of my commentary of @renegadewangs‘ fanfic series Phantoms and Mirages.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Now, onto Haunted Specters! God, I love Haunted Specters.

It’s such a pivotal and crucial stepping stone. Just about all the major actors on the playing board, and in fact, the playing board itself all get rearranged in a careful balancing act that sets the scene anew.

It is, or at least it was, SUCH an incredible struggle for me to reconcile the phantom from the previous fic with the phantom we see in this one (and subsequent instalments, even) upon taking a step back, and with good reason, although for me the divide ran a little deeper, as it completely boggled my mind how this was somehow the same character being written by the same author, let alone belonging to the same fic series that somehow had a line of continuity where it made sense for these characters to end up in these situations – this situation.

I don’t merely refer to the phantom’s characterisation – what’s so great is that you can totally get away with writing him in this manner and have the audience accept it, seeing as he’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the fall. It allows for a great amount of freedom for what direction to take the character in that would have been absent before.

No, I also refer here to (of course) the dynamic he shares with the other characters, the way he is portrayed and positioned by the narrative, and lastly, my own personal approach to reading and my feelings towards – level of investment in the character as he is in this series. As I’ve rehashed many times, I wasn’t very absorbed in or on board with this series’ version of the phantom for a lot of the previous fic when I first read it, at least until the end. But now, going into this fic, I was fully invested in especially seeing and learning what changes and impact the fall had made on him, and there was a new, thrilling level of unpredictability attached not only to the character, but to the plot itself.

By all accounts, the series so far had set me up to want to see how Blackquill and Bobby were finally going to take down the Big, Bad, Evil Phantom once and for all. How they would, against the odds, track him down and apprehend him against his will in what was bound to be an epic showdown. I was ready for that. It’s what I wanted to see. When I previously mentioned wanting – yearning for a “slightly lighter take” in my first post? That was gone now. I was ready for some pizza, at last. It’s what I had been conditioned to expect so far, so I was like, why not? I was like, heck yeah, let’s do this.

And yet, the narrative didn’t hesitate to seem to want to throw all of this out the window altogether. My expectations completely and utterly thwarted, I found myself realising I really had no idea what direction this could possibly be going in (or why my expectations had been thwarted so thoroughly like this). I well and truly had no idea what would happen next most of the time, because I couldn’t fathom where things could possibly go, and that had me hooked to reading, so eager to know what would happen next since it was such a mystery.

Rereading Chasing Phantoms as I have done for these commentary posts was helpful in truly establishing in my mind that yes, that was the same phantom, the same phantom, the same man that is present continuously within this series. That needed to be reconciled not just with regards to portrayal, but also my own misconceptions outside of that about how the story and character were constructed back then.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself here, so let’s start off with looking at the first few chapters.

Haunted Specters, Chapter 1

…You know, right off the bat, I know/figure this series was mostly (if not wholly) written prior to the release of SOJ, and yet. I could be wrong but it looks like all of the provided dates still seem to match up in order to make it remain fully compliant to ace attorney canon. As in, there’s nothing directly contradicting it. And if that really is the case, well that’s just pretty damn awesome all around. AA7 will surely come along in future and ruin the fun of that I’m guessing, but for the time being, you can’t tell me all of this stuff wasn’t happening in the background even as AA6 was going on. AA6 all seems to take place prior to chapter 1, anyway. God bless timeskips!

...Wait, wait, coming back to edit this much later: scrap that. Apollo’s presence throws a spanner in the works. Ah, well. We can work around that, I’m sure. I’m gonna play around with it in my mind until it fits, somehow. :P Even later edit: Oh also Gaspen.

When Simon left the office, he couldn’t quite keep the broad grin from his face, nor the light skip from his stride.

This is so cute oh gosh happy Simon!

Save it for a more appropriate time- that was what his therapist had taught him.

Oh? Oh really? Is that so? Who might that be? No one important? Oh you mean? You mean the courtroom sniper? Is that right? You mean the phantom’s future

Boyfriend?

Nah, that can’t be right. Carry on then.

Hah, don’t worry, I’m not complaining. Lang Zi says: A man who cannot keep his own affairs in order lacks the competence to be having affairs.” “… No offense, Lang-dono, but at times the suspicion dawns on me that perhaps you’re making some of these sayings up as you go.” “This coming from the man who has a thousand and one prison anecdotes to share?” Lang paused for a moment, then his voice took on a much more serious note. “Anyway, I’m not calling for idle banter.”

“Haha, yeah, good one, so anyway, there’s a good chance your boyfriend might be dead.”

Haunted Specters, Chapter 2

“No! Hold it! Mr. Butz had no reason to kill anyone!”

I WAS WONDERING IF THE DEFENDANT WAS SOMEONE WE KNEW SKNJSDNKJ

“So tell him to hold off on ordering another useless gravestone with my name on it. In fact, tell him to stop looking for me while you’re at it.”

ANOTHER- god I love how completely wack some of these characters’ lives are/have been.

“… I gave him your regards. I gave him your regards, and then some.”

Me, known phantom fangirl trash: OH GOSH IS HE OKAY???

Me, knowing full-well that Bobby would be 100% justified acting in self-defense against a known emotionless killer, therefore also with somewhat mock concern: OH BOBBY PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HURT HIM

(Oh, but he didn’t. I needn’t have worried.)

Ah, I’ve been sitting here, wondering what I can say to this. How his assessment is completely aligned with reader expectations and further sets them up only to be subverted, how far off his guesses are… I just… “even the tiniest glimpse of him” they’re… they’re sharing an apartment… Yeah. We’ll get there. I couldn’t find an appropriate reaction image to the above block of text, really.

Haunted Specters, Chapter 3

Okay this is extremely pernickety, and I apologise, but…

And, mind you, I usually pay no attention whatsoever to these things, and it honest to goodness makes no difference at all in the end – if the narrative says it’s Tuesday, then it’s Tuesday. Simple as that. I merely looked it up out of curiosity and because I’ve annoyingly taken it upon myself to micro-analyse everything in this fanfiction series like a little pest. I also kinda figured because you are picking out the dates and actively calling attention to the day of the week, that you would have some kind of system that you are sticking to for it (and the vast majority of details added into your fic was done so meticulously). And maybe Google is off on the calculation and you got it right, heh. But yeah, I definitely paid no real mind to this at all when reading it the first time around.

But then… Even if Fulbright was now avoiding help from the people close to him, that didn’t mean there weren’t any people close to him. Similarly, the Phantom could never quite work alone.

Okay, okay. I know this is a direct lead-in to re-introducing Domestique into the mix, but… oh my gosh. You really just went right ahead and… Hm! The phantom can never quite work alone. He is working with Bobby right now, as a matter of speaking.

Also. I really like Domestique’s dialogue when he’s forced to face Simon, gosh. Just so unabashedly in-your-face, so dotted with swears, it’s kinda great, really.

I ESPECIALLY LOVE THIS LINE FROM HIM:

Because honest-to-goodness, it’s kinda funny how direct it is (and the “THAT’S TWO DIFFERENT COUNTRIES” asdgd), but also rings really true in a “this is exactly what someone like this would say in this situation” way – exactly how they’d phrase it.

…

Oh, I love. This meeting between Bobby and the phantom at the end of the chapter. It’s – aaah. Very good. With the way it’s set out, you’re somewhat kinda like, oh, huh, is it really him though? Could it really be him? But the narrative goes right ahead and keeps dropping explicit hints. It still doesn’t outright confirm it, leaving the slightest hint of plausible deniability that perhaps this is a New Character we’re being introduced to, but… :D

Haunted Specters, Chapter 4

Even the revelation that the Chief Prosecutor had helped uncover a mole who’d been hiding right by Lang’s side was a story that’d spread through hearsay only.

Second reference to the Her 👀 (yes, I’ve been paying attention to that on this readthrough).

“Coupons. Ambassador Palaeno sends me a considerable package of these things every year, yet I find no use for them. They’re redeemable only in Cohdopia itself, so I’m sure you see my problem.”

Bro. Bro you keep making vague references to characters only for them to actually become super important and plot-relevant later on. I’m blindsided every time.

Me, reading this for the first time: Haha nice reference to a minor ace attorney character, yes, Edgey would totally still receive coupons from him. I can see that. He’s totally unrelated to this story though.

Me later: THIS SUCKER WAS ALREADY BEING REFERENCED AT THE BEGINNING OF FIC 2.

The Chief Prosecutor received gifts from the Cohdopian ambassador? Honestly, everyone was intertwined in one way or the other, weren’t they?

Good work. This is very true of the ace attorney universe and it’s cool that Simon takes note of it here like this. But it’s also very true of this fic series as well, helping reiterate that fact. Oh, Simon, you don’t even know yet how intertwined everyone even is…

You set the scene so well upon Simon arriving in Cohdopia. Really depict the atmosphere and everything super well!

So then, Simon arrives at the address, and he finds… Bobby? And it’s like, wait, wasn’t that supposed to be the phantom’s address? Why’s Bobby here? Aint that hugely coincidental…? How did Bobby find… Well, he did cross paths with the phantom, so I guess he also managed to track him down to this place somehow and he just so happens to be arriving at the same time as Simon (?!) and then some other stranger that Bobby seems to know arrives and…

…

…What?!

I love how there was still plausible deniability up until the very moment Bobby says it outright. Like, the phantom’s apartment might have been abandoned years ago, and this “stranger” is completely unrelated, and took up residence there some time after it was abandoned. Yeah – a stranger that will be an important ally and help them on their quest to bring the phantom down! Right? But Bobby’s behaviour, and then he… that’s… that stranger is no stranger at all…

Simon waited, all sorts of hypotheses dawning on him, each more ludicrous than the next. As it turned out, one of the theories he’d dismissed almost immediately on grounds of being too farfetched turned out to be truth.

LITERALLY ME

Haunted Specters, Chapter 5

“I warned you, Simon. Now back away,” Bobby hissed, grabbing him by the arm to pull him away from the faux Cohdopian.

“Faux Cohdopian”… Well,

Anyway. Well. Wow. What can I even say about this chapter? Most of it’s all contained in Simon’s POV narrative itself.

First off, you have the obvious, “whoa, this is how the phantom is being formally re-introduced to the narrative? I really don’t know what I expected but it sure as hell wasn’t this.”

This chapter, this situation, the characters, are all so incredibly volatile and it plays out, it really plays out with that constant volatility.

I, kinda immediately suspected that something was off in that the fall had done some damage to the phantom’s mind in an important, meaningful way.

Bobby’s behaviour is so surreal. Just like it is to Simon. There’s so much going on, so much to process all at once.

“I think that even you, Phantom, would agree this is nothing short of folly.”  A moment of silence followed. Sam didn’t so much as blink at the question. He merely downed the pill he’d been given by draining the water in one go. “… Sam doesn’t speak English,” was all Bobby said.

Now THINGS LIKE THIS, are what made me think, well, the narrative seemed to be encouraging this viewpoint that maybe, at this point the phantom doesn’t actually remember being the phantom. Maybe he lost all his memories, and he’s just wandering around as some poor confused amnesiac who genuinely thinks he’s Sam Specter. (That doesn’t explain a couple of things, but it was only a temporary thought of mine as I read through). But this viewpoint allowed Bobby’s behaviour to make sense in my eyes. It raises a very interesting dilemma. That the phantom is still despicable and needs to be brought to justice and what have you, but how? The phantom is completely absent now, if this man has no memories of any of that. If he genuinely thinks he’s Sam Specter, an innocent civilian who has done no wrong, and for all intents and purposes is trying to live his life as such, reacts as such? Then Bobby would probably bear no ill will against “Sam Specter”. That perhaps, well and truly up until a certain point, “Sam’s” act was not an act. Or it, at the very least, was much less of an act than it would usually be. It’s… quite convincing. In which case, Bobby wouldn’t want harm to come to innocent civilian “Sam Specter”, even if he used to be the phantom. But now? Now he’s just some weak, frail man with a serious mental condition.

The attempts to affirm the personhood, to what extent there is one, of “Sam Specter” is a very interesting point of contention.

With this in mind, as Simon went after the phantom trying to get him to come out, I kind of expected it to consistently not work. That Simon would just keep pushing and pushing to be faced with that murderer once more, only for “Sam Specter” to never break character, perhaps because there is no real character to break from at that point, so caught in a delusion. For Bobby to want him to stop because at that point he’d just be needlessly harassing “Sam Specter”.

But then he does break character, so that theory kind of goes out the window.

He’d been cornered, faced with the truth and forced to drop the charade.

But. It’s still not revealed to what extent the phantom was impacted by the fall. And I kind of got the impression that the phantom was “holding onto” the act… more than usual. More than he usually would. He only broke character under duress, so there are still a whole bunch of questions raised here about just how much he was immersed and caught up in the role of Sam, exactly. Also. Yes. On a second readthrough he reacts fiercely and breaks character specifically after the asylum comment and I just – oh my GOSH.

Also: Peacekeeper Bobby…

Bobby’s gaze moved from the broken glass to Sam Specter, who was once again cradling his head with both hands. Who was rocking back and forth on the couch, muttering to himself. Obviously not listening to a word they were saying.

Oh gosh, he really… Yeah. A fall from an apartment building can certainly do that to you.

Haunted Specters, Chapter 6

What if… What if this was a mistake? What if he’d just freed a common criminal?

Well, UM.

“Oh. Oh, right. That makes sense.” A moment’s pause. “…Wait, wouldn’t I be walking backwards then, making your six my twelve?” “…” “Or uh… I’ll just turn the clock around and make my twelve six so it’ll still be right side up for you.” “… I doubt this conversation would be any different if I were having it with a young child.”

Oh my gooosh. He’s really like this huh. He’s really just Like This.

“Oh. … Well, that’s good! That nobody else is stuck here, I mean, not the… the selling.” “Stop wasting time on such trivial sentiments and prepare yourself.”

“Trivial sentiments”… I just… He’s really always Like This. Your version of the phantom is so talkative, something I noticed pretty early on, but I love it, honestly. He could have easily just ignored the statement and continued to tend to the task at hand here, not saying anything, and Bobby would have easily taken that cue and also started to focus more and not really said anything further, but oh, no, the phantom just had to throw in some kind of remark. Not replying would have conveyed the same meaning, but this guy? He’s absolutely gonna say something. He didn’t have to equate Bobby to a child either, easily could have chosen to say nothing. BUT HERE WE ARE. I love it.

Two strangers, guarding each other with their lives on the gamble they’d both make it out in one piece.

Incredible. Incredible!

“What…? Friendship?” For the first time since they’d met, the man’s voice showed more than a stoic nature. Some sort of subdued confusion. “… Wasn’t it… justice?”

THIS MOMENT IS GOLDEN. Yes, YES.

And, you know, his brain’s all muddled, he’s missing huge chunks of his memory… And he really is kind of blurting this out at this point? Like a knee-jerk reaction. He’s reaching for a – for a memory that just comes to him even if he can’t quite put it in full context, or even if he CAN, he really says this without thinking. Because even if he was suffering from this confusion, I am very certain that he would not just blurt it out like that under normal circumstances. No. This man is half out of his mind! He must know that Bobby doesn’t recognise him and he has no real reason to tip him off otherwise right now (because it could backfire very easily if Bobby freezes up or freaks out as a result!), to ask him like that... Haaah. I’m so here for really-not-all-there phantom.

Still, even through their little exchange, Sam looked blissfully lost. As if he truly didn’t understand what they were discussing about the Phantom. About him. What a pathetic little farce.

This really did have me genuinely uncertain what to think. Like, how much of “Sam Specter” is a farce? How invested was the phantom into that role? The phantom understands English perfectly, but because Sam supposedly doesn’t… Was it possible at all that selective hearing was truly at play? That the phantom gets so deep into the role that he tricks himself, his brain, into not really understanding English properly – refusing to process it? At least, that’s what I thought at the time. Bobby makes the requests for the phantom in Cohdopian, after all. He doesn’t just casually sit there and say “hey phantom, come out” in English. Switching between “Sam” and “the phantom” evidently takes… some effort for him. And mind you, I was putting all of this (selective hearing etc.) down to the results of the fall as well. I mean, if the phantom was “Sam” under normal circumstances before the fall he’d be able to understand English perfectly well, he’d just pretend he couldn’t, and also that he’d be able to switch in and out and between personas quite easily. But that the fall did things to his mind to make it all more difficult, for him to now be able to engage in this selective understanding, is what I figured.

But… maybe Simon’s right. Maybe he still really does understand everything they say, and is just faking it. He’s such a good actor that it really is hard to tell.

And maybe the simple fact is that it’s still easy for the phantom to switch between personas, it’s just difficult to switch out of them since he has so little sense of self. And maybe that’s just the way it always has been and the fall didn’t actually change that.

Sam’s personhood hinges on how “conscious” the phantom is while Sam is in place. The less the phantom is actually present (selective hearing etc), the more “Sam” is just Sam. But it’s later implied (more than once I think) that the phantom really is just, conscious while he is Sam, and that being “brought out” is not such an immense struggle as it otherwise could be. And yet, at the same time, the narrative seems to want to tilt us in favour of acknowledging Sam as a… a person, his own person. Of sorts. And… I guess it makes sense(?). During the whole of Dual Destinies, even if every action taken by “Bobby” was consciously chosen by the phantom… Those actions were all taken for a reason, all matching up to the consistent persona “Bobby Fulbright”. Both “Bobby” and the phantom would make a choice or engage in a behaviour for the most part, even if the reasoning was different at times they were united on the action itself. Sam is… kind of the same? He is the spitting image of what used to be a real human being, all of his outward actions and behaviours (are intended to) replicate that human being. By cobbling together some approximation of a real person like this, it is perhaps easier to treat them like a real person if they behave in all intents and purposes as such. Especially considering the circumstances. There’s a constant duality going on which I guess is what we’re supposed to settle on? The phantom never really goes away, he’s always there behind the scenes. But Sam’s there too, and we gotta treat him as real or things kinda just fall apart, really. There’s also much to be said for how Sam’s personhood is as much constituted to the extent that it’s acknowledged by those around him, too. We can’t just look at it on its own. It’s also something that’s made more “real” by others treating it and to an extent acknowledging it as real. Even if, in the very end, there might be nothing truly behind it.

THERE IT IS. Right off the bat, I just gotta say: the phantom is really channelling his inner Franziska. XD. Addressing characters by their FULL NAMES. I noticed it quite a bit in the sense that it is, very consistent within his speech pattern, almost making it a kind of “character trait” of a man who himself claims to have no real character. But of course – it makes it stand out all the more when switching to “Prosecutor Blackquill” instead.

”If you attempt to lay a hand on Sam Specter a second time, I will not hesitate to interfere and protect him.”

Here it is, the phantom himself almost treating Sam like a completely separate person… I… don’t think he would have taken this approach before the fall. Hmm. BUT ALSO. Here he’s also implying that he is conscious enough while behaving as Sam to be able to “not hesitate to interfere and protect him”. Hmm!

“Watch your tongue before I cut it off,” he hissed. “I would never lay a hand on Fulbright.” “… See that you don’t.”

Me: I WELL AND TRULY DO NOT UNDERSTAND AT ALL, WHAT IS GOING ON, the phantom is protective of Bobby, well and truly his brain was influenced by that fall.

Simon really is/was in the exact same boat, honestly.

Now we have the smuggling ring brought up, the March 2019 exposure referenced, another reference to how there was a mole in interpol before… And I was kind of like, “hm! You know! There’s a certain character this brings to mind, yet unfortunately they’re nowhere in sight. Kinda really sucks they’re not a character in this fic series, honestly!” Yes, such a shame, really.

”[…] That’s why we need to expose the involvement of Lex Luster […]”

Me, reading this for the first time: Wait. Lex… Le…x. Huh. That’s… for some reason, that name rings a bell. Ah – that’s right. This “Lex”, he’s quite an important character, isn’t he? From what tiny random scraps of information I’ve seen about this fic series (from years ago!)… Yes. I’m pretty sure that this “Lex” character will be showing up quite a lot going forward.

...Well, I wasn’t wrong.

[thishazeleyeddemon]

*coughs* that sounds like encouragement to expand

The sunlight fusion thing is really pretty imagery! I really liked the bit where Patroclus looks like he’s got light stuck to him - that’s a very nice picture and I can definitely understand Achilles being like 😳😳 at the sight lol. I think it’s an excellent, original interpretation of the soulmates myth.

Patroclus in your fic is great - I like how he’s got the kids he mentored, his own fighting style, his sass and emotional moments, his moments of doing silly stuff like walking off a ledge just to get to the House of Hades faster and teasing Achilles about not getting invited to certain types of parties anymore. He really feels like his own independent person with determination and will and I think that’s a more mythology-accurate characterization and I think it explains why Achilles loves him so much.

Hector occupies a soft space in my heart as one of the only Greek mythology characters who 1. has a personality 2. has a personality that is not Raging Asshole All The Time and I really like how he is here. I really feel for him missing Andromache and I’m glad he seems to be close to Hypnos? Hypnos always seems pretty harmless in Hades and the mythos and I think it’s probably good for Hector to spend time with a nice god, or at least a god that has no interest in ruining his life (not that it can really be ruined anymore than it is). Also he had nightmares about the Fall of Troy like every night that I can remember for years before he died, I think he maybe needs a nap. Idk what you’re gonna do with them but I just hope they are friends is all. they seem like they’d be good for each other maybe.

Eros is really fun too - you don’t usually see a lot of sympathetic portrayals of him so this was a fun change of pace. I love the way you tied Primordial Eros and Aphrodite Eros together, and I’m really interested to see what comes of that. He’s fun and I like his attitude and how he banters with Achilles and Patroclus. I hope Ares and Aphrodite don’t react too badly to the news he’s a Chthonic and that Apollo tried to kill him (what would have happened if he had? *wonders how death works for the non-chthonics)

Erebus I just really love his design and his attitude. showing up in Elysium by covering everything in darkness, absolute king shit. Is he older than Nyx (because you can have darkness without night, but not night without darkness?)

Hey, just wanted to tell you I'm really enjoying your Hades stories. I really like the sunlight fusion thing Achilles and Patroclus do, I love how you do Patroclus's character. I really like Hector and his 🙃 energy - I can't wait to hear more about what's going on with him and Hypnos. I also really like Eros and Erebus, both their designs and their personalities. this is a really good fic and I like it a lot. that is all

I would curse your enemies free of charge at your word my liege

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, KAITLIN!

You have been accepted for the role of ANTON LANTSOV with a faceclaim change to Reece King. Admin Bree: Choosing Anton’s player was probably one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make as an admin, and for that reason alone, I’d like to congratulate the three of you for writing such brilliant applications. Each of you captured him in your own unique way, and it took me hours to decide which I liked best, because each of your portrayals brought something wonderful to the table. But I’m incredibly confident in my decision to offer him to you, Kaitlin, because your application was stunning in more ways than one. His dialogue in your samples, your headcanons—all of it was so incredibly him, so much that I don’t doubt for a second your ability to portray our beloved Crown Prince. Beautiful work! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS:  Kaitlin.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS:  She / her.

AGE:  20.

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL:  I am more or less available all of the time. I’m currently in the middle of hunting for a new job, but it will be part time so I’ll still be around all the time. Obviously muse wavers and fluctuates and such, but I’d say around a 7 out of 10.  As a quick sidenote: I do have to say that the first two weeks of the group I’m probably going to be a bit busy. Opening weekend we are celebrating my mom’s 50th birthday by going into the city for a night so I may or may not be on at all during that time. It depends on how busy we are that night. Then a week after opening I’m going to Italy on a family vacation with my Dad and Stepmom and siblings etc. During that time  I’ll be around at night for sure, but not likely at all during the day! 

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS:  My only current active muse is Adeline Calore.

Also… please don’t hate me for how long this is.. I got really carried away… Love way too strong. Yikes. 

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER:  Crown Prince of Ravka, Anton Matvei Lantsov.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?  By Saints I wish I could make this short and sweet, but it feels like there’s just about a million things about Anton that are screaming my name. 

I really really really wish that I could say something like “his was the first teaser that I read and I’ve been hooked on him ever since,” but in truth it took much longer for the Fox Prince to sink his canines in and really hook me. When the group was first coming out and posting things to the teaser blog and such, I knew I would be crazy chaotic busy pretty much from the time of your guys opening (As in like, when you started posting teasers. I’ve been busy so long I’m about ready to start crying, but this app has been surprisingly stress-relieving.) until about two weeks after your first acceptances: I’d resolved myself against applying for that reason. 

But like all deliciously attractive roleplays, I couldn’t help but keep my eye on the group, take a peek at the main every so often to see how things were going. I wasn’t paying close attention, and originally my gaze fell to Anastasia (partially because Ashley Moore is the love of my life, as she should be everyones, and partially because I am quite partial to princesses). I had no real plan to apply… and then I read Anton’s bio, in an attempt to learn everything I could about Ana, and fuck was I done for. 

Just like that, he had wormed his way into my heart. All I wanted to do was spread my volcra wings and start screeching because holy shit was I in love. I had 12 million other things to be doing every single day and yet, I’d be driving in my car to pick my sister up from a friend’s house and Anton fucking Lantsov would start running through my mind. (Coincidentally, I have a feeling he has this affect on a lot of people, not just me.) I’m thinking about things that he might say, how he might react if someone slighted him – is he the sort who would cut off a man’s hand because he questioned his authority as a war general (answer: maybe, possibly probably) or would he tear him down using a combination of carefully chosen words (answer: maybe, probably, he’d do both)? For a while, to be perfectly honest, I struggled a lot with finding his voice. It’s not that I couldn’t figure out why he says the things that he does, or even why he acts the way that he does because I think that I figured that out pretty early on. (At least, in my opinion. I hate when people make declarations about characters as though they know them better than the admins and so if I sound like that…. just, kick me. Seriously.) I legitimately mean, his voice – the things that he says, the words that are so carefully crafted on his lips. A big part of this is likely the fact that I am not particularly charming, and that’s legitimately the core of Anton’s persona; he is a charmer through and through, able to mold himself into any situation to make people like him. I, on the other hand, am a potato who doesn’t even like talking on the phone because it relies so much on words and that is a lot of pressure on a very small thing. But honestly I was obsessed and couldn’t stop thinking about him. Little devil snaked his way into my heart, the same way he snakes his way into everyone else’s.

What first drew me to Anton was, honestly, just the first line of his biography. I am a genuine sucker for royalty, especially the glorious and the tragic – of which Anton is both. He is legitimately everything that the crown could ever want from a prince, which makes it all the more confusing as to how exactly he got to where he is. It’s not exactly that he’s ambiguous, because his goals and motivations come to me with crystal-clear clarity: he wants better for Ravka, and that’s the be-all, end-all of it. It’s a lot like the quote by Nikolai in S&S: “I’m a prince, Alina. I can’t afford to be myself.” This is what I’m trying to get at, in essence, but it goes even further beyond this in Anton’s case. It’s not so much that he can’t afford to be himself, but rather that who is he is defined by his nation, what his people need from him. Who he is, therefore, is whoever his people need him to be. Ravka is everything to Anton, and he would never compromise his nation or his people for the sake of a single person, including himself. 

Anton may not have been born for the throne, but he is absolutely made for it. Anton, for all intents and purposes and for the sake of understanding him, strikes me as a sort of conglomeration of many of the male Greek deities. He has the wit of Ares and he has the savvy of Apollo, a boy as equally loved by the son as he is scorched by it – he has simultaneously gained everything and lost everything with his ascension to crown prince, his love his family his friends, it’s all been pulled away from him for the sake of the crown. He doesn’t complain, but he’s still been put on a pedestal he never expected to be put on. He’d grown accustomed to the battleground, allowed the gaze of war to settle into his skin alongside muted war-crys. He was a soldier though and through, racing towards victories on the horizon, a blade in his elder brother’s palm used to cut down Ravka’s enemies. 

But then Zeus crept in, making way for the true king Anton could become. Suddenly war and ruin were not all that he need know; he could know what it felt to hold a crown atop his head, to hold lightning in his hands and command where it might strike instead of being the strike. He was right to get involved with the war effort, was right to believe that war was entwined with his fate, but he had it wrong. He’s not the boy born for bloodshed, not the boy born to carry out the wars, but the one born to stop them, the boy born to bring peace to a nation that has too long been under siege by a darkness none of them knew how to fight. Or maybe the wars will kill him. Who knows. 

Honestly? I’d be crazy to not want to explore a character with that kind of weight on their shoulders, wouldn’t I? 

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND? 

LANTSOV MEN DIDN’T DIE: Anton, the word-lover, Anton, the wordsmith. I would love for Anton – who always had a quick remark to make before words could even enter his opponents thoughts – to be at a loss for words, for ideas. Perhaps it comes because he finds himself suddenly on not only uncharted, but also uneven ground, a place where not even his wide comfort zone can reach. Anton is brilliant, but there’s always someone out there smarter, someone just that touch more clever, and maybe they’ll put him into a position where he is in over his head. I think this is the kind of situation that would be really great for his character development; he is a selfless prince, to be sure, but he is also a vain prince, and to see him knocked off the pedestal he’s been put on, or even just knocked a rung or two down the ladder would be really fascinating. After all, the world around him is fast changing and he’s just have to learn how to run faster, talk quicker, be that much smarter. It’d be interesting to see someone pull ahead, even if only for a moment. Lantsov men, after all, are gods walking – but even gods can be killed, can be outsmarted. Just ask Ivan. 

E’YA STA REZKU: I am become a blade. In this case not in the hand’s of the Sun Summoner, but in the hands of Ravka, of his home, of his nation, of his people.  Da Vinci (my light, my life, my idol) wrote this thing: “every whole is greater than the part.” As much as I hate to so obviously take inspiration from Nikolai, I can’t help it in this case. Ravka is Anton’s first love. Therefore, to be perfectly honest, all I want is to see Anton come to grips with the fact that he will legitimately, finally, one day be at the helm of this nation. Anton, sun-haloed, war-torn, hungry Anton Lantsov is to find himself wholly consumed by his nation, and I’m wondering if he’s truly as cut out for it as he believes himself to be. He does, after all, have his weaknesses – his pride, his preference for alliances rather than relationships; when everything is skin deep it’s easy for him to betray, but just as easy for him to be betrayed. Anyways, this is kind of already in the midst of happening, but I’m really excited for Anton to morph from General into Crown Prince.

BLOOD IS THICKER: I don’t actually know if I really want this to happen or not because Anton will be in for a world of pain if it does, but I would love for it to be revealed that he is in fact a bastard. I’ve been talking about it a lot recently in various Skype chats, and I have a feeling it’s because I’m a sucker for angst, but can you imagine the pain that fact would put Anton in? He’s lived his entire life under the burden of whispers and doubts, but those he could handle; he could do it because Anton is a Great Man™ in the traditional sense of the word great in that he is pretty much designed to bring about revolution, to bring about an end to the nation’s suffering. He is a god through and through, with equal parts capability for mercy and ruthlessness when it comes to the good of his nation, and he knows it. He didn’t always, but as the people allowed him to be more volk than sobachka, he began to see himself for what he was. To have it revealed that he is in fact a bastard, that he cannot and will never again wear the crown, would be to rip the very fabric of Anton’s soul from his chest. I don’t think he would know who he is if the crown was ripped from his head, it’s too big a part of the destiny he sees for himself now. It would be a fascinating thing to have happen, and a fascinating thing for me to get to explore, but honestly I’d be very worried about his mental state if this came to fruition. 

THE SPARE SEEKS AN HEIR: The most obvious and most discussed thus far would have to be Anton finding himself a wife, considering it’s an act as future king of Ravka that will help to define his reign over the people. Who he chooses to have by his side while he rules will reflect back on him a great deal, and I would really like for it to be someone that he doesn’t necessarily expect to fall in love with. I feel like a lot of people at court tip-toe around him, or at least they should because he’s going to be the king for Saint’s sake. He is a king of the people as much as a king can be, but he is still going to be a king, is still a god walking among mere men. Probably because of that fact, there’s a kind of attitude that I want to see from Anton’s future wife, someone that isn’t afraid to call him out for being a douche – charming as that douchery may be. I also think that a kind of defiance would be something that Anton would greatly appreciate. After all, he spent his life as the spare, the prince that no one needed but they got anyways. He was someone that people needed to respect, and he commanded that from them, but he was never going to be king and he got used to that part of his life – that possibility of comfort, of familiarity, of casualness. As future king, he probably lost a lot of those casual relationship that brought easy smiles to his cheeks and was left with so much distance. I want Anton to find someone not only unafraid of that distance, but who crosses it with confidence and ease. 

GOT YOUR SIX: I would really like to see Anton training a second, and farther beyond this, Anton involved in the war efforts in general. This might be something that develops in Anton’s past, in the sense that it’s a position / relationship that already exists that just isn’t written in his bio is this makes sense. Anton with his soldier friends, joking around as they all lose themselves to the drink around him, tossing back glass after glass of kvas, their lives pressed into the dirt and destruction all around them. I feel like there’s no really an established relationship for Anton that involves the war brigade, and given that’s such an integral part of the man he became, I’d love to get to explore it more. 

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?  I want to be really cool and say yes, no problem, but I have a feeling if I was accepted I would cry and be really protective over my little bastard king and cry even more if you killed him. I’d probably let it happen anyways though, you know, for the Angst™ 

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S): The sample(s) may be as long or as short as you see fit. It must be in third person and in-character.

REASON IS NOT AUTOMATIC. – I really just wanted a glimpse into how Anton handles the men in his army. I had intended originally to write about the kindness he shows them, but since I wrote a headcanon about how he treats the good men (remembers their names, their lives, remembers they are people and not just blades in his collection), I thought it might be interesting to see how he handles the ones who are in the war for the blood, not the loyalty.  

 “We’ll probably be able to catch a few more of them lurking around in the woods, then we can have some more fun with them. Damn Fjerdans, always thinking they can take what’s not theirs, what’s ours.” There’s a pause, a silence a bit too harsh to be stagnant, as though the speaker was looking forward to the other man’s answer to his next question. “You take any alive?”

“Yeah,“ the other man says, and the tone of disappointment caught in his throat makes Anton sick to his stomach. These were his men, not the Fjerdans who ridiculously thought Grisha to be witches, or men from Ketterdam entwined with the drug industry; his men, and he thought they would be better than this. It’s a bitter reality for him to swallow. “One of them actually surrendered,” the man says, his words crisp on the cold night’s air. Anton cannot see the voice that it belongs to, but somehow he knows they are not someone to make a friend out of. “Rest of the company was around though, so I had to turn him over.”

“We aren’t taking the live ones to prison are we? We don’t need any more damn mouths to feed. I’m hungry enough most night as is.”

“Nah, just the ones who seem like they might know what their men were doing crossing into Ravkan territory. Think Popov, that new interrogator, is in with one of ‘em now. I know the live one I caught is going to be executed once the interrogator is done with him, but what I wouldn’t give to kill the Fjerdan myself.”

“Well, at least Popov gets to have some fun tonight.”

His voice is distinct when he begins – slow, deliberate, regal, in the most patronizing of ways. Men like this must be kept in line. “Now, boys,” the Prince begins, removing himself from the shadows of the tent to expose himself to these bloodthirsty wolves, calling them boys so as to make them remember that as much as he build himself into friendship with his merry men, they will forever and always be below him. And in this moment, disappointed in the cruelty of man, he needs all the status he can get. “I would say have you been paying attention, but it’s clear you haven’t. I sent out stealth parties into the trees not half an hour ago so that they might ambush the remaining Fjerdan invaders as the moon rises. Worry not; we will take and protect that which is ours and march home with any spoils. Or did you doubt your leaders?”

It’s casual, the insinuation of treason, of insubordination, of treachery. It’s the most powerful weapon against men who dare to let thoughts of such nature to take hold in their minds – the notion that it makes them weak, that it makes them lesser. (Wonderful, how the pride of men can be used so easily against them.) It often pulls men like this back, dragging them from the edge of the dark abyss and into his own arms -- where he may use them as he pleases.

Anton is never certain how he should feel about such men, the wolves of Ravka made into human flesh, but he doesn’t dwell on the thought, instead choosing to turn away from these devils in tattered clothing. It’s been almost a year to the day since Anton has stepped his foot in the Grand Palace, in his home. Tomorrow will be the year mark, and he finds more and more often that he itches for the palace, for the ability to stride through the halls, no longer sobachka but volk, no longer a weak-hearted little boy but a man as sharp as volcra talons.

Becoming a god had come at a lofty price.

( What he doesn’t say, cannot admit, is not so much that he fears he is beginning to forget; beginning to forget the sound of Anastasia laughing, the way his father’s voice curls around consonants – sharply, as though every word must be a knife to cut down his enemies – or the way Darya tended to favor certain words over others.

This? This separation? He is afraid to admit that he does not mind.

Foolish for him to have thought it would ruin him. )

Anton sits at his desk, scrawling word after word, letter after letter, pouring his mind into the pieces of parchment bound in leather.

I told Ivan this morning of the terrors, the absolute horrors, that the Shu invaders used against me and my men. There have been rumors for years about the technology they have been developing, and I fear I’ve witnessed those beginning to come to fruition.

Yet still, he doesn’t listen to me when I try and tell him my designs. I don’t understand how a mind so built for war, for weaponry could be so opposed to hearing about the developments that another thinks they could make. Dawn begins to breaks along the snow-covered horizon and he is off, walking away from me in the middle of my words, his mind too distracted by the battle his is about to wage to see the bigger picture: Ravka is going to fail .

I fear what he is going to do to our nation by keeping it as he has always known it. Ivan is no fool, but is he a king either? We need him to be. Ravka needs him to be, more so now than ever.

Every morning he wakes to desire of the most unholy sort: treason. The second son, greater than none. Funny, truly, how desperation can drive one to greatness. Nothing, however, could be done about fate, about birth order. He way be a god, but the second tier was the only level he’d be able to call home.

Anton doesn’t hear when his brother enters the room, barely notices that Ivan has entered unannounced and unwanted to come and stand at Anton’s shoulder as he hunches over the desk before him. But then his elder brother is leaning over and he can feel the breath – warm and hot, unwelcome – touching the bare space between his hairline and the top of his shirt and suddenly the journal is being slammed closed as he shoves away from his chair.

He recognized it as Ivan before he even saw him with his own eyes, even before his brother began to speak. He would know Ivan anywhere, though he may pretend not to. All he can hope is that he hadn’t read any of what has been put to paper.

“Saints, boy. You’d think I’d just held a knife to your throat the way you jump.”

Boy – the slight cuts Anton more than he’d care to admit. (Instead he’d just blather on about it in his diary later.) At first he shrinks away from the casual reprimand, knowing with sharp clarity what the small word insinuates -- he’d used the same method only minutes before. Anton, of course, had learned his tactics from the best.

“Don’t you think I know my nation well enough to know best how to handle it?” Ah -- so he had read it.

“Brother, of course I know you’re worried about what lies beyond our borders; we all are. But don’t you see? The Shu to the South and Fjerdans to the North? And right between lies our nation – while great, vulnerable; we sit cut off from our trade routes along the Western borders. All it will take to overcome us is an army strong enough, technology that we in our wildest dreams have not been able to craft. I will not allow them to take what is ours and call it their own.” Anton is alive now, caught up in the feeling of greatness, of the divinity that Ivan himself had shown him existed in Lantsov blood.

“Ivan, If the Shu decide to attack us, and I mean really attack us, we will lose. The Shu are expanding their army and I’ve seen their weaponry; if they decided to come together with Kerch to attack us by land and sea, well, even the Grisha won’t be able to protect us from that kind of machinery. Our neighbors want to expand their borders and swallow Ravka whole. We cannot continue to be a nation divided. If you would just allow -- ”

“It’s very romantic and all how you wish to save the world, but I think we both know it takes a man like me to actually do it. People respond to strength and strength alone, young brother, not reason; and while I must credit your mind with the cleverness it is due, it has nothing on the Ravkan army’s brute force.”

Sometimes he wonders about his brother; Ivan the great, Ivan the Terrible. Is he unable or perhaps just unwilling to understand that fear is a temporary solution? After all, is it more difficult to learn how to be cruel, or to learn how to be soft? Anton was beginning to think the gods knew not of humanity, knew not the workings of a human’s mind. He was beginning to think that it was a good thing he’d been forced to remain half-boy for so long, that being a god meant he would forget how to bleed.

And so long as he remembers what it is to bleed, he will remember to protect that humanity his brother had seemingly lost.

OTHER GIRLS WERE FAINT STARS. – A bit of a timeline, this sample more or less shows the rise and fall of Darya and Anton’s relationship, at least the ways in which I imagine it.

 The truth of the matter is this: Anton Lantsov would do anything for that which he loved. He’d written it once in his journal before:

Love for me is different, I think. People say that love feels like home, but it’s not. It’s like a religion. It’s so much bigger than a building where I can be myself – It’s terrifying. It’s a black night and a single burning star. It’s building them a city and calling it Church. It’s taking all of human history and bending it to their will. Forget the ending, I will build them a story anew.

He finds her in the gardens, and in spite of himself, he grins from ear-to-ear at the sight of her. He thinks it’s her back (It’s always the back with him – the way a person’s spine curves and the ridges where their shoulder blades end, the little dip between the two. He quite enjoys mapping out those places, and he does so with as much vigor as he puts into his campaigns.) that truly gives her away, the dark cascade of hair that falls over her shoulders and grazes the spot where fabric covers spine. The set of those shoulders really should have acted as a warning sign, but even if it did he chose to ignore it. (Anton, of course, does nothing without choosing to do so.)

“Miss Voronov, are you enjoying the evening?”

He almost laughs when she whips around, her face a delicious shade of red. He’d always loved the sight of a flush in a person’s cheeks – spoke to wonderful things happening below the surface, inside of a person’s mind. Perhaps she, too, was thinking of their midnight rendezvous under the influence of a tad too much champagne. He knew she was a dangerous game to play; he’d go back to war soon (too soon, really) and to dance with his emotions now would be to play with fire -- but, then, when had love or war ever been fair?

“We should probably pretend it didn’t happen,” she begins, moving quickly beyond pleasantries to address (or rather – not address, seeing as she seemed to want to forget) the kiss he’d shared with her the night before. His lips stayed in place, a smile commanding its hold as a hearty laugh rolled its way through his chest.

“Pretend what didn’t happen, you taking advantage of me or kicking me out after you did it?”

“I did not take advantage!” She sounds taken aback, and it’s all Anton can do to hear the gasp of air in her throat and not press his mouth to hers again. Instead he clicks his tongue in disapproval, his head shaking in mock innocence, though the warmth in his eyes is a dead give away for the fondness that’s settled across his skin. And he knows she can see it for she’s clearly holding back laughter, small chuckles escaping her with each word. Each sound tastes like cherry wine. It’s sweet in a quiet sort of manner, gentle but assured – as though she laughs like that every day, as though he makes her laugh like that every day, as though she may just allow him to stay by her side from now until eternity just to keep her laughing like that. He makes it his gospel.

“Oh, I was drunk and extremely handsome.” His head tilts to the side as he pauses, looking at her with obvious endearment. “You took advantage.” (What better way to show affection than with humor, no? His brothers always told him otherwise, but he finds this woman’s laugh intoxicating – he’d worship at the altar of that sound if only she’d let him.)

“I think extremely handsome is being overly generous.” The corners of his mouth tilt down in mock distress. He knows that she will come around, that she is pretending for the sake of honor, or perhaps self-protection; he can see it in the tilt of her mouth, the repressed grin.

“Oh no, last night I was wearing my good shirt, the deep blue colored one. Compliments my complexion quite nicely. Last night I was extremely handsome. You took advantage.”

“I did no -- ”

“Would you care to take advantage again, say tomorrow evening?” he says, interrupting her. He’d probably pay for that later.

“Your Highness – ”

“Please Darya, call me Anton.” He uses her given name, and he can feel the weight of it on his tongue like Atlas bearing the world, can feel it on his tongue like intimacy made concrete. The set of her mouth is what makes him smile again, the determined way in which she forces it into a straight line.

“Your Highness,” she says again. Determined little star; he could already feel his gravity shifting, anchoring him to her instead of the grass beneath their feet. “-- don’t you take anything seriously?” She knows the answer to this is yes, that he takes everything seriously, devotes himself completely to everything his nation needs, but it’s not what he says.

“I find life tends to get rather dull that way.” Sailors always tell tall tales of mermaids luring men to their deaths beneath the waves, dragged down to the shadowy depths; he thinks he’s found his siren call.

She pauses, shaking her head, but the smile he’s been trying to coax out of her is finally beginning to show, the walls beginning to crumble as he so desperately wished they would. “You really ought to stop looking at me like that,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Oh, I think that you know what.”

And he does know what, because he looks at her like he finally understands the Apparat’s preaching, like she is the moon and he a lone wolf desperate for a response. He looks at her like she’s the sun, and he’d gladly raze his wings to ash if she’d only asked him to come near.

It could be daunting, he supposes, but Anton had never walked away from a challenge before. He wasn’t about to start now.

He had been right: love and war were certainly not fair. They were vicious opponents, each as demanding as the other, both entwined together like the strings of fate. He tells himself that he is not at all bitter, that the war is where he belongs; it’s easier when she isn’t so near.

He is throwing rocks at her window and to be fair, he knows it’s all entirely absurd, but he can’t help the smile that colors his cheeks rose. Too long had he been ruled by sulfur and gunfire, by glory and victory. Too long had he been away from peace, and Darya was nothing if not solace against broken bones and battlegrounds.

He told himself that he wouldn’t do this, that the first stop he made when he returned from war wouldn’t be her, but the moment he was alone his body had taken over his mind and carried him here, for he’d missed her more than he could ever put into words. It was unbearable, really, to even think her name –  Darya Voronov, Darya Voronov, Darya Voronov, Darya Voronov, it took over everything if he let it seep in – when she wasn’t near. Thoughts of her made him tremble with it: humanity.

It terrified him.

(Perhaps it’s why he needs the jurda: to tame his heart, to strengthen his hands.)

There’s a certain euphoria he feels whenever she is near, and even the simple sight of her leaned over that balcony edge is enough to make his heart ache in ways he never imagined that it could, in ways he hopes will never fade. Her gaze meets his (truly, it hasn’t been that long but it’s been far, far too long) and suddenly everything else pales in comparison to her eyes, all the other beauty in the world pale stars in comparison to her full moon. For a moment his breath hitches in his chest and he counts one --  two -- three -- before he can breathe again.

“Anton, what are you doing out there! Someone may hear you!”  She half-whispers her words, chiding, but the smile that winds its way onto her cheeks is a dead give away, her tell. He knows she is as happy to have him home as he is to see her once again. Seeing her standing there, the delicate weight of her lifted onto toes so that she might lean over the railing, makes him smile crookedly. (Really, what other sort of smile can a boy with fifty faces have?) He’s unsurprised at her delight, remembering that with every letter he sent her, she sent one back with equal fervor: come home, she would write. I miss you, too, he would send back.

“Well, you know how I feel about taking risks,” he replies with a smile to match her own blossoming one. Like calls to like, he would suppose.

“Don’t you know what my father would do to you if he caught you out there? What your father would do?”

It doesn’t matter to him what her father would do, what anyone would do. The only reason he hides her is for her benefit, for her own safety. She deserved so much better than to be put under scrutiny, under the watchful eye of every other woman at court who may have thought to seek out the hand of a prince; Darya was already an outsider at court, despite the efforts of Ana to make people see otherwise. She was not from a high house, did not come from money, no, far from it. He loved her, and as he does all the things he loves, he protects her whatever the cost, even if that means he needs to hide her from the rest of the world.  

Hearing her speak he realizes that it’s true what they say about distance, about separation. The first thing to go from your memory is the voice, and hearing Darya’s now, fluttering along the gentle breeze, it sounds something like church bells, the notes of a choir’s hymn at sunset.

He feels grounded, anchored to her. A disciple at his knees before the saints.  

His eyes are alight with mischief when he finally replies. “Make me marry you, perhaps?”

A dangerous game to play, indeed.

Anton barely thinks twice about being called to his father’s study. He’s almost grown accustomed to the man now, barely registers anymore that the man standing before him is twice the god that Anton will ever be, that his father is the titan who taught him how to shed the sobachka pelt Ravka had put on his shoulders. He knocks -- a succinct rap rap on the mahogany door frame -- before entering, passing through the entryway to Olympus only when his father’s voice calls out come in.

“Darya Voronov?” Ivan had never been one for playing games, and tonight was no different. If Darya was Anton’s own personalized version of an addiction, then his father was buzzkill incarnate. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and Anton immediately feels smaller; he almost crumples in on himself with the weight of his father’s gaze. Please, father, he wants to beg. Let’s not do this.

He keeps his gaze apathetic, the guarded prince guarding his heart; he cannot afford to give too much away. The king stands (Do kings ever truly sit, even when they are planted on their thrones? When they are always so high above all others?) and waits for an answer from the spare, but for a moment Anton finds himself absent a quip to allay the situation, absent a tongue. The bonds between father and son, no matter the complexity, no matter the darkness, no matter the questions (Are you proud of me? Do you love me? Do you love my mother? Am I hers?) are unshakeable though, and as cleverly as Anton my try to shed the weight of his father’s gaze, may try to escape the imploring eyes, gods do not know the meaning of the word no.

Anton should have known better than to think he could hide her from a man who saw the bigger picture like it was marked out for him on the floor in dotted lines. “I know all, my boy.”

Anton wants to laugh it off, to pretend like his father is being absurd. He knows his words are thin, that his father has eyes even in the statues that decorate the Grand Palace, that nowhere is safe, but he lies anyways.

“Father, I never pegged you as the type to listen to petty gossip.” He pretends not to feel the way his heart has begun to beat more quickly between his ribcages, growing so large with every pump of blood that it surely is on the verge of explosion. The young prince should really know better by now than to try and lie to a man who could lie for a living. (Old habits die hard, I suppose.) “Do you pay all such rumors credence, or do you consider me a special case?”

His father is shaking his head then and he is looking straight through Anton as though there is a shining star buried in his chest setting his every secret aflame, bright and burning for all the world to see. And maybe there is something buried there, a piece of Darya stuck like a burr on his heart, his body drowning with the gravity of it. He wouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re a skilled liar, Anton, but not skilled enough.”

Gods don’t care for weakness, and love is surely one.

She hates it when he smokes, but to be fair, he only does it when he’s away from her, like when she is around his need for vice is sated. Without her Anton is a burning pyre, and when there’s smoke the pipe is too tempting not to give into. Coming back to the palace he finds it difficult to quit, and standing beside the lake makes him nostalgic for the ocean -- his hands needs a distraction or they may just begin that insufferable flexing that happens whenever he wants something he cannot have.

“You know, once of these days they’re going to tell you jurda can kill you,” she says, her voice suddenly breaking through the night, just as flame is approaching pipe. How quickly he smiles; he needed a distraction, and Darya was be a much more appealing addiction to indulge himself in. Dangerous, the intellectual part of his brain days, for they are in public and much to his own chagrin, Darya is a well-kept secret.

Delicious, the wolf says.  

“You think you know what it’s going to feel like, but this” he says, a general of war suddenly gentle in the hands of his flower, gesturing clumsily at the empty space between their two bodies. “This is nothing l could have predicted. I don’t know why anybody bothers with drugs when they could just fall in love.”

There are a million words on the tip of his liquor-lacquered tongue. My throat, mine. You left stars in my heart and now I claim this space between your ribs as mine, mine, mine. I am in your heart and it is paradise; I am in your light and it keeps streaming into me. “Never leave me,” he says instead. His head is shaking, a mind caught in incredulity. How had she claimed him so? A man who was everything, reduced to a man in love, a man at his knees?

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” She says it like a joke, like it’s nothing, but Anton knows better.

His lips brush hers and it tastes suspiciously of wildflowers.

“Who says I’m afraid of anything?”

You get to be the King. This isn’t the way he thought it would feel. For a momen\ it felt like magic, but now it feels like getting stabbed to death. You get magic gloves! You’re all cotton candy pink and glowing! He feels strangely trapped, like a princess in her tower or the dragon stuck in the dungeons.

She finds him in the gardens. and while there is no longer a tear in his eye, salt has clung onto the peach fuzz that covers his cheeks. The faded tears tighten his skin, just as the noose he’d placed around his own neck so many years ago had finally grown taut; just as he’d always wanted. The gravity lines that had once held him spinning in her orbit had been severed, and he hung precariously from the hands of the Ravkan people. His fate belong to them now, not her.

If he was going to put the noose around his own neck, he supposes he should at least do it right.

“Anton,” she calls when she is only a few feet away. Here he’d been thinking they wouldn’t even say goodbye, wouldn’t submit themselves to the pain of such an endeavor. But then again, he’d always been the dramatic sort, and much as he wanted to save himself from the war of love, he knows that a wound left to fester would surely kill, that neither one will be able to move on without the safety of a clean cut.

He didn’t do it on purpose (or maybe he did, he can’t be sure), but everything about him is stark sobering; his clothes are crisp and free of blemish the same way his face remains smooth, unburdened. He had to make it look easy, had to make it as pure and unblemished by the loss of his brother as possible. It will be easier this way, he thinks, and maybe he’s right. (He usually is.)

“My dear Darya – ” he begins without thinking, something he thinks he’s never done.

“Please don’t call me that – yours, as though I ever will be.”

His eyes cast themselves towards hers and it’s not exactly painful; perhaps nostalgic would be a better word. She looks like a morning glories unfurling at down, she looks like home. It’s instinctual, the way his hand nearly floats away from his side to stroke her cheek; he’d just washed them recently, and he knew she’d be able to smell the lemon on them. It’s all he can do to not surge forward, to wrap her in his arms to keep her safe and tucked away from the pain and darkness now threatening to take over.

Instead he breathes, and flexes his hand once, twice, three times over. He knows she deserves something better than this, better than the role of dirty secret. Doesn’t change the turning in his abdomen at the thought of her lips on his.

He wants to apologize for all of the things that he ever said to her, wants to take it all back. What good is it doing either of them now? When they’ve known happiness, pure and unbridled love, only to have it ripped away by something as heavy as blood? Sorry about taking your heart and making myself a home there, sorry about walking with you through the gardens under a black sky alight with bright stars. I’m sorry that I built a cathedral at your feet, and I’m sorry for the sacrilege I’m about to commit. Sorry about the casket I’ve already buried our love in.

Sorry about ruining everything before even saying it aloud.

Is this what destruction looks like? Or maybe it’s something else, something like construction. Maybe it takes clumsy hearts at twilight to realize that what was underneath the floorboard was what he was destined for, that the perfunctory kiss goodbye he plants on her rosebud mouth was something he should have been prepared for all along.

It’s love or it isn’t; does it matter anymore? It does. Of course it does.

“Our nation needs strength, Darya. No matter the cost.” He doesn’t say it aloud, not exactly, but he knows her to be clever enough to hear the words he cannot say: the cost is you, the cost is you, the cost is you.  

He would pay it time and time again, and he wouldn’t think twice.

“I know, my love. I know.”

He turns away from her then and there’s the same unmistakable set of his shoulders, the one he learned from his brother, from his father. It’s the stance of a Lantsov. It’s the stance not of a boy turned men, but of a man turned god.

The truth of the matter is this: Anton Lantsov loves Ravka, and he’d do anything to protect it.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS: 

MY HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE: Anton is always giving away his heart in the form of material objects. With his men, the ones who did right by him, by a man not just their general but their friend, he would give them little trinkets that he had invented that would make their lives easier – an especially powerful telescope that would allow men to see an enemy approaching from further distances, a jacket made from the same material as his own kefta, a seemingly simple pair of gloves that have metal in the knuckles so any hand to hand combat would be just that much more dangerous, and so on and so forth. It’s not necessary by any means, but it adds to his charms, makes him more friend than other, makes him more human if people are able to carry little pieces of his mind around in their pockets. Similarly, he lavishes his lovers with gifts. There haven’t been too many, and besides Darya they were all frivolous teenage trysts, but each and every single one of them found themselves adorned with jewels. Darya, of course, was always telling him that she didn’t need it, but that never stopped him. He can’t seem to help it, the ways in which he loves to inject himself into other people, to don his peers with little bits of himself – perhaps it’s a way of claiming ownership, of claiming power, but it’s also something that gives him pride; to see people wear and use the things he has given them, it lets him know that they appreciate what he does for them, and he loves to be appreciated. 

HEAD ON, HEART OFF: For the greater good, he tells himself. I think it probably scares him a little bit, how easily he was able to walk away from Darya. There’s a great many nuances to this situation, but at the end of the day I don’t think that, once he knew of his brothers death and what that entailed for his own future, he ever thought twice about keeping Darya in his life. He’s far too smart to ever truly believe that Darya could be his queen, and so he let her go without a second thought. Part of it was for her own sake; if he held onto her until he found himself a wife, then he would be doing her not only a great dishonesty, but also a great disservice. He knows that she deserves far better than to be the king’s mistress. And he thinks about her, often – sometimes it’s late at night, when there’s no one there to distract his thoughts from the image of her sprawled across his silk bed sheets, and sometimes it’s when he hears something funny or something beautiful; she is who he wants to share those moments with. But still, he left her like it was nothing, like it was easy, because that’s what his kingdom needed, what the crown demanded. It scares him how quickly the man he wanted to become has vanished, a crown prince left to fill his shining shoes. 

BATHE IN STARLIGHT: I am dead convinced that Anton has an unshakeable love for all things that live above his head: the birds that live in the trees, the trees themselves that grow so big and tall and will outlive him by millennia, but most important the sky, and what is beyond that. The galaxies and the cosmos fascinate him, and he is constantly staring up at them, clambering his way onto the roofs of buildings in an attempt to get closer to them. What secrets do they hold, those floating little balls of light? He can see them there, flickering in the sky above – they’re the only absolute constant in his life. Out on the Vy, or making camp near one of the Tula Valley’s many abandoned farms, even lost in the vast otherness of Tsibeya, the stars remained the same, guiding him through the darkness and to safety. 

EXTRAS: 

I do have a mockblog, which I’ve linked in this whole sentence! As per usual, I think it’s probably more helpful for me than it will be for you, but it’s there. :) I’ve also made Anton a pinterest board! 

Some extra things, a number of which are just more headcanons:

a playlist that i made for anton… here’s hoping you have spotify. it’s more or less instrumental songs that made me think of him, but there’s a couple of lyric songs in there as well. 

i forced myself not to make a darya & anton playlist, but listen to moondust by jaymes young and try to tell me it doesn’t make you cry. i’ll wait. 

birthdate: december 31st: capricorn. This sign is, above all else, ambitious. And while I don’t think that Anton necessarily lusted after the crown when he was the second son, he absolutely fought tooth and nail to make sure he was not only well-liked, but well respected. He rose through use of his own merit and skill to the title of General, and he did it because he’s patient. He’s resourceful. He gets what he wants. Capricorn’s other common traits tend to serve their ambition in that they are usually quite disciplined and quite intuitive; I think this lend nicely to the notion that Anton is very good at reading people – their wishes, their desires, they all come easily and quickly to him, allowing him to be whoever the person needs him to be. Capricorns often are very good with their words, which fits with his ability to but charm people and put them in their place, with his ability to bring nations to their knees with a twist of his tongue rather than his wrist. 

gender identity: cisgender; he/him. Anton’s entire life he was bred for war, for the life of a general. He was taught to keep his hair cropped short, his posture straight, and his muscles coiled tightly. He was taught walk like a man. This is why I’d suspect he’s never considered what life would be like if he were able to separate himself from his gender, from the constriction of the pronouns he’d been given at birth. The phrase be a man was so wound in with his identity that I doubt he could have ever given much thought to abandoning that which he was born into. 

sexuality: heteroperformative, but likely unopposed to the idea of sex with any and all genders, and more than likely has tumbled with his fair share of people of varying genders. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think he’s given a terrible amount of thought to his sexuality, always just assuming that he would have to marry some noble girl regardless of his own choices. The fact that he found and loved Darya wasn’t something that happened every day in Ravkan court, and I don’t think he was expecting it at all. Sure he’s the second born son and so his marriage wouldn’t have been nearly as important as any one made by Ivan, but Saints forbid Anton end up marrying anyone other than a well-mannered lady capable of matching his own level of wit and sophistication. No, Anton’s own personal willingness to cross all of those boundaries never mattered because he knew that in the long run he likely wouldn’t be marrying for love. 

hogwarts house: In my heart of hearts I love Gryffindor so much and was honestly trying to figure out a way to justify putting Anton in Gryffindor, but I just couldn’t manage it. I think he’s very probably in Slytherin given his pension for ambition and bringing armies to heel, but I think the sorting hat may think twice about not putting him in Ravenclaw. 

books: It’s not surprising that someone with an ability to connect to a vast array of people is then able to connect across a different field: the page. For as long as Anton can remember he’s always loved books, and the worlds that different stories can create. Before the spare was the heir, he was generally free to spend his days as he pleased. Prior to his introduction to the battalions, Anton could pretty much always be found in the library and anyone who walks into Anton’s personal quarters int he palace likely could have mistaken the room for a second one. His room is practically littered with stacks of different books, some of them historical and some simply novels to be read for pleasure. They cover every surface – piles on the floor beneath his desk and on the chair in the corner of his room. Books on his nightstand and at the foot of his bed. All of varying lengths and topics and age. His favorites always turn out to be about historical leaders, sometimes monarchs sometimes dictators sometimes usurpers. Men and women of great power and prestige who did great or ( sometimes and ) terrible things for their nations. Sometimes he pretends he’s not, but he’s always taking mental notes of what those Greats did that made them the ruler that they were. Even before he had the crown Anton was ready for it. 

languages: As the great wordsmith that Anton is, it makes sense that he would make sure he could be as such in as many languages as he could get his hands on. While out at sea, there is little else to do on passages than read a book, or perhaps practice a bit of swordplay (not that he really needs much help in that department). So read he would, plowing through books on Kerch and Shu Han, devouring the language and attempting to form the sounds on his tongue even without the aid of a native speaker. But eventually a vague understanding wasn’t enough, and he pestered each speaker of foreign languages that he could find into showing him to to move his mouth, where to put his tongue exactly behind his teeth. He loves words, and the more the merrier.

mars: For the longest time he couldn’t justify with himself getting a dog, unable to reconcile his want with the amount of time he would spend away from the creature. When his brother died, when he was made Crown Prince, he found himself spending more time at the palace than he had since he was a teenager, and he found a true friend in the small Golden Retriever puppy that he acquired. His father had said Get a Great Dane if you really must have a pet, but Anton loved the unbridled loyalty that came with his Golden, and he wouldn’t trade Mars for anything. The puppy now follows him everywhere, and he grows bigger and bigger every day. Mars, he finds, is very good at listening to his secrets. 

sailing: Anton, beyond a shadow of a doubt, loves the sea. There were a great many things that kept him from it while he was growing up ( namely The Unsea ) but even the darkness couldn’t hold Anton back from the place he was meant to be. Being out on the water was as close a thing to religion as Anton has ever felt, despite the preachings of the Apparat that he alway had to sit through while growing up. The language of the Saints had never resonated in his mind until he witnessed what it was to feel the wind kissing his skin, salt getting caught up in his too-long eyelashes. There’s something so liberating about being out on the water, an emotion that comes only when the land begins to fade from vision. In my head it was the first thing that was truly, incandescently Anton’s. He was the Second Born battle-savvy son, but Ivan was ruthless in battle in a way that made Anton’s pension for clever tricks instead of brute force not only less popular with his father, but it made the battlefield less his. Maybe that’s a selfish thought, but being at sea was the first thing that he was really, really good at that his elder brother hadn’t already claimed – the almost rhythmic slapping of the hull and the crooning of seagulls, the rigging creaking as it tightens around the pins.  **As a sidenote, I did come up with this headcanon prior to reading the Grisha trilogy – it is entirely possible that I was projecting my own love for the sea onto Anton, but I think it fits beautifully with his instiably curious, restless mind – but I am really really pleased that it aligned with Nikolai’s character because I love him and I just think that King of the Sea Anton is a beautiful Anton. 

good men: This one ties in kind of closely with my “HEART ON YOUR SLEEVE” headcanon, but I wanted to expand on that one just a little bit more down here. I think that Anton is the kind of General that remembers every single soldier that he served with, and even many of the ones that he was only commander to. He is just that kind of man, the one who cares about people far more than they very well may care about him. He asks men he hasn’t seen in three years how their lives have changed, remembering that one man’s wife was pregnant when they first met and so will ask if he ended up with a spitfire who can’t sleep through the night or not, will ask about anything he can remember from his past with them and the people love it, and it’s why not a single person out there questions the fact the the prince is the general – they know he wasn’t just given the title for the sake of the title. Anton damn well earned it. 

drinking: As a dastardly teenager with a face far too beautiful for it to be any good for Ravka’s women, kvas was more than likely one of Anton’s very best friends, as it would have been for any other young teenage boy. But I don’t think Anton drinks anymore, at least not really, and I think this is probably a fairly recent development. Obviously champagne and the occasional glass of kvas is necessary in the life a royal – for entertaining guests who prefer brandy to warm the hearts rather than the talk of alliances, or for wooing a woman into bed with the sultry glance above the rim of his glass – but I don’t think that he really drinks to excess. He’s too focused on Ravka and making it the kingdom he believes it can be: grand and powerful. He wouldn’t risk any modicum of control for the sake of waking up nauseous and bleary-eyed – no matter how attractive the prospect of liquor may seem in the moment. WIP.

grisha: Anton acts all holier than thou sometimes (read: all the time) but it’s more or less a facade to entertain while still commanding respect, and his emotions about the Grisha are not any different to how he feels about other citizens of Ravka: they deserve protection. As a child, his vision was tainted by the glasses of prejudice, but as soon as he began coming into his own, as soon as he began traveling through Ravka, he stopped seeing abomination and began to see allies, to see the human beneath the Small Science. It mattered not to Anton the fact that Stasya Belov could command air particles; he wanted to go for a tumble with her in shadowy corners just the same way Darya Voronov made his abdomen tighten. He saw beyond the prejudices he had been taught, and that newfound vision has stuck with him – and he’s determined to carry it not only through Ravka, but into Kerch and Shu Han and past the Fjerdan borders. He has a vision for the world, and it’s colored in acceptance. 

charms: I find the fact that Anton is extraordinarily charming quite fascinating if I’m being perfectly honest, because every persona that he dons is as genuine as the last – a feat not easily accomplished. The Grisha have odinakovost and etovost, that strange ability of theirs to call to the small sciences, but Anton has something equally as powerful: that ability to see into a person’s soul and know exactly what they need from him, who he must be to gain their trust. He’s a golden kind of charming, the kind of boy who lights up a person’s world, the kind of boy who creates warmth wherever he goes. Sometimes it makes a hearth, sometimes it burns men to the ground – it depends on what will serve him best. 

knives: Anton has always been skilled with knives. Anton, to be fair, tends to be good at everything that he puts his mind to. 

letters: Every single time he was away from the palace (and, to be sure, it was a great many times, for many months at a time) he sent letters back to his two favorite ladies: Anastasia and Darya. When he first began going to war, it was only to his sweet Ana that he would send mail to regularly, but as soon as Darya came into his life he was hooked on her, drowning in an all-encompassing love, and he’d pour and pour and pour himself into the pages he sent to her until there was nothing left to pour. More often than not he would press a flower he found near camp and include it in the letters he sent; even when he was away he wanted to give people a tiny little piece of himself, even if that piece was only a bit of where he was in the world at the time of mailing.

jurda: He smokes the root from a pipe, but only when he’s away from the palace (read: only when he’s away from Darya.) He tried chewing it, like all soldiers do, but he found the feeling it left in his mouth uncomfortable, and quickly moved onto using the pipe instead. It’s not quite that he needs a vice, but more so that it’s the only thing he’s found that can sate his appetite, that can calm the wolf every time he gets agitated. It’s strange, perhaps, but Anton needs no aid in finding energy as many who chew jurda do, but rather that thoughts of Darya often used to distract his energy from where it needed to be. The smoke focused him, smothered the want to make way for the war. 

prayer: Good sailors. Good soldiers. Let the sea carry them to safe harbor, and may the Saints receive them on a brighter shore. Anton repeats the Sailor’s Prayer to himself after every single battle, whether the men he’s lost have been sea-lovers or not. Sailing is as close a thing to religion as he has ever truly believed in and he can’t quite shake himself of the habit. Sometimes it’s a simple Saints receive them and sometimes it’s the entire prayer, but either way the sea is always with him. 

CONNECTIONS – These are, of course, player approval contingent, but I tried to keep them mostly Anton-sided to avoid potential variations in interpretation! I know that there’s a lot of these, and so that some of them may need tweaking, but given Anton’s status, he knows a great many people and I wanted to really explore his thoughts about Ravkan court given it runs his life. 

ivan – Fascinating, isn’t it, the bonds between brothers? If manipulation were a two-sided coin, then Anton and Ivan would be on opposing sides: Ivan, the physical, Anton, the mental. Where one was all fists, the other relied on wits. Where neither was overly tender or merciful, one knew what the words meant where the other pretended the words didn’t exist. How do you live with yourself? Anton occasionally thought to ask, though he knew what his elder brother would respond with: a haughty laugh, an innately valorous twist of his mouth (everything Ivan did was fraught with grandeur, with glory, with darkness). By always being the last man standing. Little did he know.  

viktor – He is Viktor fucking Lantsov, a harbinger of the kind of darkness that he saw in his elder brother’s soul as well. The two, it would seem, are cut from the same cloth, and for that reason there’s a terror that fills Anton’s mind every time he thinks about the youngest brother – the same terror he once felt when he stood in Ivan’s presence. If Anton’s destiny was always to be the crown, then Viktor’s was always to be the spare; for that reason he is filled with wounds and they are leaking gasoline, leaving Anton to navigate the precipice between comrade and competition, weapon and wary. It has never been easy, loving his brother, especially when he knows that Viktor’s fury knows no bounds, his anger raging with a kind of frenzy even the strongest hurricane couldn’t stomp out. He has already incurred his brother’s wrath, and he has no desire to incur his fury. Only the tides will tell him what he will do next, and even those he’s not sure he can rely on.

anastasia – His printsessa. God he loves Ana; he loves Ana so much that sometimes it hurts, so much that he makes her think of bringing knife to rope so that he might cut himself from the Lantsov noose around his neck, away from the kingdom. But that’s all he does: think. He will never take action to mend the fragile broken thing that now rests between them, will never put blood above country. Like all half-gods, Anton had come to accept this tragedy – it shocks him every single day how easily this acceptance came to him. There was no blackhole of sleepless night where he mourned the loss of sister and brother, of lover or friend. There are few people that Anton will openly admit to having loved in his life, who have seen him in the most vulnerable of places, and while Ana is one of those special few, he is no longer the sweet little sobachka he once was. With crown came kingdom, and that needs to be more important than any love, even family.

tatiana – Fuck if he doesn’t absolutely loathe the time he must spend at his cousins side, though he would never admit to his dislike aloud. As close to the edge as she pushes him (and, to be sure, Cronos’s cool embrace often sounds more appealing than listening to Tati screech on about this or that – but, hey, we don’t choose our family) he would extinguish any star that dared to threaten her, the same as he would for Ana or Viktor, despite the distance and coldness between all of them.

darya – He would give anything is this world to make Darya happy, anything but himself. There is no easy way from Earth to the stars, and if Anton’s blood calls to the sea beneath the hull of his ship, then the fabric of Darya’s soul is made of stardust. He once thought that this would never be the way of it, with his heart abandoned on her sleeve, his ability to love suddenly gone, but now he sees the truth for what it is: this is his destiny, no matter the steps it took for him to get here. He loves (he would desperately like to believe it to be loved, but he isn’t in the habit of lying to himself) Darya, and he knows that he always will. The fox that he once was will love her until the sun rises in the west and the sea turns to sand beneath his feet, but the volk that he has become, the volk that was always lying in wait beneath his skin, will never allow himself to feel for her what he once did. To do so would be to put himself above his country, and Ravka deserves better than a king who cannot abandon the boy he once was for the GOD they need. 

the darkling – Anton sees him for exactly what he is: a plague made flesh. It’s not a warm thought, neither is Anton filled with the kind of warmth others at court are when the Darkling enters a room. Pain makes noise, and despite all the pain he causes, the Darkling is silent as the moon. Anton can’t very well trust a man who feels nothing can he?

gemma – He thinks about marrying her more and more often, and not for any frivolous reason such as love. He sees her not for her beauty and not even for her brains, but for what the people see in her: hope. If Iskra is his hope for a better future for himself, then Gemma is his hope for his nation. He sees in her illuminated cities, at the very center of her is a well to satiate the thirst his people have been suffering under for centuries. It’s not fair, but what is fairness anymore? When the fate of a nation is not just in your hands, but in your blood, in your bones, you cannot turn away: Anton will ask everything from her, and he will do it without a second thought. Here is my hand. Here is my throat. Here is anything you want, even the marrow from my bones if you ask it. He doesn’t believe in religion, but he would build one to her if that’s what she needs. The nation needs her and just as he would give himself to his people, he will do anything she asks if she’ll just be his ally, his hallelujah.

iskra – She flinches, and he would be disappointed. He thinks her beyond something as trivial as fear. Perhaps it’s strange, or perhaps unfair, the way he holds her up, places her so high above all of the others. He mounts her on a pedestal as though she is one of Donatello’s masterpieces and Saints help the soul who dares to call her anything but a marvel. He plucked her from the masses, just another bastard in a crowd, an Etherealki whose fate he could see from the moment his night-darkened eyes fell upon her face, and he helped to turn her into something glorious. When he found her, she was already a sight to behold: a dragon to set fire to each of his enemies, a warrior in soft skin. She was a bastard who had left everything she had ever known to start a new life someplace foreign. Even then he knew that she was something meant to be spoken of in legends, a girl turned woman, turned blade. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. And like a phoenix, she rose from the ashes of her former life, and Anton made for himself a home at the hearth of her. Like calls to like. He sees in her both what he fears and what he dreams of – a bastard who has created a life still worth something, a bastard who rises above what others seek to drag them down for. I rise. I rise. I rise. “Nadeyus moya,” he calls her when no one can hear. My hope.

inessa & feliks – He compares them both is Iskra, and time and time again he is disappointed in them. It’s not fair, not in the slightest; it’s like comparing kings to gods, of which Iskra is certainly one. Inessa is remarkable, to be sure, but she is a snake in snakes’ skin, a girl whose veins seem forged from gasoline not unlike his brothers – just waiting to be set aflame. Feliks comes from an equally, though differently, violent background, and it’s not that he doesn’t trust the guards with his siblings lives (he does, cautiously, as he does all other things), but he worries about the darkness that seems to color their lives, worries that it will follow them from past and into the present. Too many have wound up dead in both of their pasts for Anton to truly trust them, no matter how often and thoroughly they prove themselves capable. 

arisha – Arisha is… a force to be reckoned with, to be sure. She’s a clever sort, the kind of wolf that would dare to challenge his status as alpha is he left her with an opening to do so. He thinks she would have done well with his brother, both creatures of equal part gods and terror. She’s a good actress, with the kind of poker face that most men would sacrifice entire nations just to crack, but Anton holds a stack of cards that she can’t even begin too imagine, with plays that she’s never seen before. (Or so he thinks; tragic, Anton is, remember?) And while the minx makes him uncomfortable, while he makes sure to never turn his back in her direction for fear she may slip a knife between his ribs – to be fair, he makes every effort to never turn his back on anyone – he listens to what she has to say about the kingdom as intently as his mother does, as his father does. Until she proves herself an enemy he will continue to treat her as ally, but he waits with bated breath for the moment she will show her true colors. 

oyun – There are so many vipers in Ravkan court; Oyun Kir-naran is one of those many, and she makes no apologies for it. Anton finds he can respect that, despite the soft-edges she paints herself with. She speaks with a tongue like velvet, like the sun’s rays filtering in with dawn, and it sounds like lust, tastes like intimacy, and it’s all on purpose. Saints know Anton sees through it because he does the same thing: play on people, use their tells to be the kind of person they spill their secrets to. Oyun is exactly the kind of person he needs to be wary of, just as he is who she needs to worry about – each wants to bring the other’s nation to it’s knees, and if he could he’d say Scurry back to Shu Han, Oyun, his voice collected and his face unreadable. You can’t win here. As it is he bows his head respectfully and smiles. Let the games play on. Gods do not bend their knees to wolves in sheepskin.

ANYTHING ELSE?

And FINALLY I have approximately 12 million favorites, but the book I’ve probably read the most times is Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, just because it’s filled with book-lovers and I am nothing if not one of those! Thank you for reading my app & can’t wait to keep a weathered eye on this group even if I’m not accepted. ♡

[vasilinaorlova]

a portrait of the artist as a young woman

what a great agglomeration of words. and what a beautiful word ruthless too.                                                                                                       Ruth brilliant in that glittering constume, so flexible too, a transformer of sorts, tranströmer, if you will, a gutta-percha android, a Catholic doubtlessly. Catholicism is an appropriate religion for robots, dark                   serene                stain-glass                    perseverance              mysticism                 imperial legacy             ruins                                          marble and it is easier for robots to comprehend the idea of the Creator, and                                      they are better in computing, in that high mathematics which alone would allow to solve the conundrum of filioque. porcelain shepherdess.                                                                                                softer. in the early days I adopted a manner to tell the truth whenever possible                                            and I try to observe it truth will never let you down                                                          truth will never betray you truth will not displease you                                                          truth will follow you whenever you go truth makes you invincible                                                          truth will make you nontransparent in short                                                          truth is the best lie letters dim and glittering“drinking stiffly to your own heart’s desire”                                                                                       (Rabelais)                         at the Lord’s grave sat an angel with an unsheathed light saber.    ovoid fruit   olive and oil unavoidably “I enjoy performing femininity,” she said and- - -. what, performed it?well it should be something more complete, an action. should this action contradict the first part of the statement? “I enjoy performing femininity,” she said and [should she subvert femininity performance here? how?} spitted on the ground. perhaps it’s better to conform to femininity standards “I enjoy performing femininity,” she said and adjusted a glowing flower in her hair. “behind my window even Bruegel is covered with snow.” Inga Kuznetsova to answer the question “what is delusion” one must answer the question “what is reality?” first the saddest thing though    is there is no one but us. you think someone else exist somewhere, some overarching enigmatic grand structures. those wise men and women, gate keepers; writers, too. that there are poets somewhere out there. but the truth is, you, in your formless stained hoodie, heartbroken, and alone, stand for the tremendous absence that is called the high culture of your country. you are the last survival from the planet that has exploded. and those gates             {burst into nonexistence]     those iron gates                                                                        open into a magnificent park,                                                              bedewed,                                                                     bejeweled with round water drops                                                                       magnifying the texture of leaves                                                        a park once very well-trimmed                                                                                    a garden                                                                                    a paragon                                                                              of classification,                                                                                    Linnaeus                                                                                          of aeternity                                                                    (or so you would like to think)                                                                with the now-broken sculptures                                (the surviving statue of Anaximander is also,                                                                                            as is his work,                           a park now wild                                                    decapitated),           with a dark pond in the middle of it;                           the pond is covered with algae,                 and the gates                    are perpetually open. burdock grows through them.         to the kingdom of rain   he was the blueless servant.  his talents and loyalty eventually earned him  the title of    dandelion         emeritus               wearing nothing                             but voiceconchoidal | abrasive                                                     glass luster | igneous                                                                          cubic | featherya glorious                                                                 voyeur                                                   miserecordia                             a      doppelgänger I wonder how Latin-alphabet fledglings perceive the Cyrillic at all, as a number of impenetrable symbols?–я представляю, смотришь, а там какие-то непонятные закорючки,*                             значки**                     и крючочки.*** voracious   ravenous desires that I don’t even want torment me I am ashamed embarrassed awkward helplessly I wonder, do you have soft or                           hard lips, and if I may know               their delineation, are you          a good kisser (are you a good kisser?) I have to renew writing as soon as I finish writing; nothing is satisfying. I can not linger in what I’ve just written; it slips away. predicament.Midas turned everything into gold– the horror of it: he touches his daughter she becomes a golden statue– and I, text.he died from starvation any grape, or pomegranate, or bite of meat he could satiate his hunger with was to transform into a useless piece of metal I take it even if he managed to pierce a fish or a fruit with his golden fork, it would turn into gold as soon as it reached his lips and even if he opened his mouth very carefully, a translucent slice of orange was already tinkling against his teeth, a meaningless nugget an aerial woman is detaching herself from the ground and flying into the sky like a fragment of paper, a flat silhouette; she rises higher and higher, and soon a colorful tent of the circus is but a circle; a city park, an amorphous form of green; and the building of Rathaus, a cube.                                                                                why am I not I?                                                                                  there, there AND IF I SHOULD CAPITALIZE A PHRASE, WHAT WOULD THAT PHRASE BE ABOUT, CAPITAL LETTERS? I HEAR, ALL-CAPITAL-LETTERS WRITING IS PERCEIVED AS SCREAMING ON THE OTHER HAND, UNLESS IT HAS A SINGLE sMALL LETTER, ONE CAN BE SURE IT IS WRITTEN IN CAPITAL LETTERS ONLY IF ONE KNOWS THE FONT AND THE FONT HAS DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN THE CAPITAL AND LOWERCASE LETTERS, WHICH IS NOT ALWAYS THE CASE WITH FONTS Emily Dickinson liked to capitalize Nouns, German-style                                                                                 dizzy Passerby in what way is a number of quotes black-out poetry?worshipful Seniorias! in the interim “delightful, pleasing, matchless, full of grace” (Rabelais’s name, misspelled) “to battle the whole storehouse of abuses” (Rabelais’s name, misspelled) “Apollo and the Muses” “notable jester”                       Rabelais “they danced so gallantly, that it was a sweet and heavenly sport to see them so frolic” (Rabelais) пруд прут   тук тук   по сапогу останься тут**** tut tut   blood boiling   blood and oil a great material              to boil should I collapse for you,                           I would make sure I’ll list to you your crimes:                     a collarbone, a jugular, a knee,     a jaguar of light                        unscrewing itself like a magnificent spring across the room, waking up and yawning,                             unrolling its long blue tongue                                                               and displaying                                     for you to clearly see                                   the rows of excellent teeth                            (I was white and I turned whiter.)   there are rumors (spread I believe by Paracelsus) that for thirty years natural philosopher (and Dominican friar) Albertus Magnus was working on an artificial intelligent agent (golem), only for it to be destroyed by Thomas von Aquin in a surge of anger and fear. Thomas von Aquin paid a visit to his friend and teacher Albertus Magnus; a strange female automaton opened the door. since the automaton did not answer his questions, Thomas von Aquin suspected it was a demonic apparition, and hit it several times with his crosier. he knocked the poor servant to the floor; notched wheels ran out of it, ringing and jumping. it is sad (if this is true at all) that the first robot’s murderer was the pupil of the first robot’s creator the main Nabokov’s rival in terms of a polished asceticism of style (and a far better writer in my opinion) is Ivan Bunin, a winner of the Nobel Award of the 1933 and a nominee of the 1923, and also of 1930, 1931, 1932 (all years, including the year he got the award, the high years of the Stalin’s purges). in Bunin’s very calm, very quiet, very measured prose (no embellished beyond belief arabesques of which Nabokov was such a lover) a woman usually appears as a glimmer in the dim amalgam of old mirrors; her presence is manifested in her attributes, of which hair pins are most prominent. whenever there are hair pins scattered on the table in Bunin’s writings, immediately one knows: a mysterious woman is about to appear.                                                                                                        lol.                                                  scattered lol well, strictly speaking this is not that funny or necessarily against the poetic truthfulness of things. and why lol? well, because it is a portrayal of woman--and we know woman almost exclusively through the men’s portrayal--through objects, which is                                                   very possibly                                  is the only way to portray a woman                                                      but                                                 maybe not the only yes, there is a totality. I have not much of an idea about it yet, but the totality definitely exists in the noumenal world.                                                                                 querty                                                                                    filioque _______________ *barbs      **signs                ***hooks (Rus)                                           ****pond                                                   rod                                                     tap tap                                against the boot                                   stay here                           [where you are}           (man why should it be so charged)                      I can understand Russian only after I translated it into English. I translated it and it struck me as needlessly sensual; 

                that is not what I meant at all (T.S. Eliot)

(oh of course he did)

[elizabethleslie7654]

Modern Family and Marriage: The Crumbling Foundation of Our Society and Future

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This piece is part three of a 14 part series on modern society. Here are links to Part One and Part Two

Marriage and family has been attacked from many angles. At the current moment there has never been a higher percentage of the population that is unmarried regarding women. This is due to many reasons. As we’ve discussed before, women’s true nature and unfettered hypergamy has caused a dramatic shift in the standards (really unreasonable expectations and inflated self-worth) of the modern woman. As a result she usually shoots too high, or doesn’t focus on looks and feminine nature and winds up 35+, childless, and dissatisfied with her available options for men. However this is just one aspect of the family degradation that has occurred. No fault divorce, child custody laws (in which women gain custody over 80% of the time), and the tilted family courts have disincentivized men (the initiators of marriage) from ever beginning the process and causes them to opt out entirely. With the advent of video games and online (free) pornography, men can virtually fuck and conquer countless women and 100’s of worlds, all from the comfort of their home. In truth, men don’t have very high standards for what they desire in a wife, but even that relatively lower bar has become too high for an increasing number of women. In times long past, women were encouraged to aspire to beauty, femininity, and even feminine deference to their husband. Sadly, something that has been lost in time is the abhorrence of, and resulting rise of, the “strong woman” that #1 doesn’t naturally exist, and #2 conflicts with nearly all masculine men. Good men don’t want strong women, they want composed, self-confident, submissive, feminine women who are going to listen to them when they talk and do what they’re asked.

This however has another dynamic to it. Usually marriages are based upon shared interests and values, and approximately 80% of the time they also share a racial aspect (within the US). Because, as stated previously, women are more susceptible to outside influences, particularly so when considering mate selection, propaganda has been aimed at women to also abandon their racial heritage in relationships. Interracial relationships are pushed upon white women (and men, but to a lesser degree) to pair with those outside their race (particularly so when considering white women and black men). Even if these women don’t marry these black men, by merit of copulating with them they are often ruined in the eyes of many race conscious white men, and often times even those who aren’t fully red pilled on race (as they usually have even a gut level understanding of potential microchimeric or even telegonic effects of race mixing). This is relevant to the marriage and family discussion because as more and more white women deny their heritage and burn coal, they often permanently disqualify themselves from marriage to a white man and therefore further destabilize the family fabric of America (and other western white countries).

Additionally, men are no longer allowed to lead in the biblically suggested fashion that formed the basis for many successful societies. While I personally hold the biblical view of household structure to be best, analogous structures throughout time (re:patriarchal) have shown themselves the most effective in holding together societies and advancing human flourishing, while minimizing the fuckery that is occurring in current times. This hamstringing, as well as general humiliation (think Disney Channel fatherly portrayals, as well as most commercials) has a profound effect on society, as it further continues the loss of frame by men. Without this dictation of reality (what I’ve been calling frame) by men, we are unable to maintain heritage and further see the browning of America by daughters either failing to procreate or doing so with a black, hispanic, or otherwise non-white character. Sons are no longer taught the ways of their fathers and grandfathers and daughters are no longer watched over and cared for in the same fashion by their fathers, brothers, uncles, and cousins. We have truly lost the familial aspect of this relationship, due to many causes, but at least due in part to the rising age at first birth which further robs families of intergenerational connections and knowledge (and cultural) continuity. In the past it wasn’t uncommon to have 4 generations in one room. Now, it is becoming rarer and rarer to have even 3 generations in the same room in which the youngest is old enough to understand and internalize the valuable lessons of each generation.

This also ties back into the previous section regarding youth culture. Because families have destabilized it has led to the rise of the aforementioned youth culture, more so as a result of little to no familial influence via intergenerational contact and broader interconnected extended family networks. This in turn further destabilizes families by not allowing for further family formation via previously listed race mixing as well as lack of familial support. In earlier times husbands and wives had a broader family network to help support them during both easy and difficult times. Now, hardly any support exists for married couples and even worse broader society actively encourages a childless, commitment free life, making even healthy relationships that much harder by forcing couples to fight against the broader ethos of our culture. In addition, if fights occurred in past times, other wives, mothers, and grandmothers would help with and encourage reconciliation between the two. Hopefully they’d encourage the woman to follow their man’s lead and to submit to his wishes, even if she disagreed. But now in current times women have no such network, and as a zeitgeist of the cultural ethos, often have “girl-friends” that encourage a “strong woman” attitude, and that their men should “just listen to them” and that they “can’t figure out why he just won’t listen, or give in”. They actively sow discord in the sacred halls of marriage. In addition, men often have cucked male friends or exist in a world in which their colleagues (both male and female) discourage strong male leadership and encourage female leadership and supremacy. They must be careful because any leadership that is too strong is “abusive” or “controlling”. This is, in all reality, a complete falsehood. Women, for most of recorded history, have not been in control and in charge of themselves. I don’t believe they possess the true ability to be responsible for themselves in a manner similar to men. In fact, a good portion of men are unable of being responsible for themselves. So to insist that women are indeed equal in this manner to all men, is absurd and surely a result of our subverted society. Women, when faced with the strong authority of a man will often react like children, throwing tantrums and fits of rage. And anyone who knows anything about children knows you don’t give in to their tantrums and demands if you want to maintain any semblance of authority. However, as we’ve seen, if men attempt to hold their authority in the face of objections by women they’re often labeled abusive and at times even thrown in jail for simply not caving to the pozzed reality we currently exist in (if their insane wife wants to gender-bend their son or daughter but they disagree, for example). It’s clown world plus a psychotic toddler’s birthday all in one. Needless to say this isn’t very conducive to the formation and maintenance of immediate (re:nuclear) or extended families.

However, there is hope. If we carefully begin to make changes at the family level and slowly initiate a reconstruction of culture and positive familial connections and influence, I do believe we can begin to recover in 2-3 generations. The road back will undoubtedly be more difficult than has been the fall from grace. This is simply the case because many who wish to rebuild this structure of times lost have often not seen it, nor have they even had any consequential connection with as little as 2nd or 3rd hand knowledge of what the reality of said structures were like. However, we did go to moon with very simple computers, so I don’t think this is entirely out of the realm of possibility. But like our endeavors to the moon we did have some fuck ups along the way, and unlike the Apollo missions, I don’t think we’ll give up on the family as easily as we did on continued moon access. Everything else aside, the moon metaphors fits even better because as the strong, western, white people we are, even our miss aimed at the moon will surely land among the stars. A family structure 50% better than what we’re experiencing writ large is surely 1000x times better than no family at all, because without healthy white children, there is no white future.

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