#i cannot bring myself to post this anywhere but here

[bubblyartisticart]

i thought maybe tumblr might like this.... uhm... i have no excuse

[messiahzzz]

You’re one of the most annoying people on this site. And that really says A LOT because WOW! Shut the Fuck up about Gale wanting to be a father or not. He never says that he doesn’t want to be one. You projecting things onto him doesn’t make it Canon.

on a serious note: i’m certainly not the one that continuously brings up this topic unprompted. i personally really don’t understand the entire controversy around the topic or why fandom feels the need to rehash this conversation almost weekly. i truly believe that there’s nothing more of value to learn from it, to address, or add to it… yet fandom won’t let it rest.

to once again clarify: what i mean by “gale wanting to be a father isn’t canon” is that there is no evidence/neither hints anywhere in any of the dialogue that support the contrary. characters like h*lsin, w*ll and la*’zel have entire adoption subplots. all of them mention their children explicitly during the epilogue:

narrator: *your soul warms thinking of lily aurora ravengard, your adopted daughter. a treasure of a girl, found at the entrance of the open hand temple - one grey eye, one brown.* w*ll: ah, the girl could melt the staunchest heart. she might even have brought a smile to old withers' face! w*ll: but tonight is for us - and lily's only four months of age, besides. i promise, the temple will keep her in good care.

player: and our little hatchling? is he safe? la*'zel: of course. i have complete trust in our newest allies. xan is in fine hands tonight. la*'zel: what a wonder he is. he will be a fine warrior, if he chooses. or a poet, or an explorer, or a scholar.

h*lsin: being away from it... i cannot help but worry how they will fare in our absence. player: we'll be back before they know it. h*lsin: i hope so. the children shall miss their bedtime tale tonight - though perhaps i can glean a few new stories from our friends here, to make up for it.

even shad*wh*art has a line where she briefly mentions that children might be a possibility for her in the future.

shad*wh*art: and i get to see my parents almost every day - i need to make every moment with them count, after so much was stolen from us. but they're doing well, [...] shad*wh*art: who knows? perhaps they'll have grandchildren before long.

gale in comparison? he has none of that. he remains childfree during the entirety of the game + epilogue. in fact, his line in the epilogue that addresses the topic of grandkids is this one:

tara: this is why mrs. dekarios and i will be waiting an eternity more for grandchildren. nodecontext: self-pitying gale: psst! shoo, tara. nodecontext: shooing away tara like one would a naughty cat.

i already wrote a post about this entire discourse here [x] but to repeat myself once more: all of the dialogue that vaguely addresses the topic of children in any way in regards to gale are these snippets

player: gale… how would you feel about having another person in our relationship? gale: what, like a child? i’m not quite sure i’d consider myself father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what i’d call settled…

gale, upon spotting oliver during their game of hide and seek: ah, i have you! just a shame i don’t want you.

gale treating the children the group comes across with respect isn’t an indicator either. this is a courtesy gale extends to everyone he meets. he’s a character that approves of a protagonist who systematically commits good deeds. whether it’s sparing animals, helping without compensation in mind, or aiding children. wanting children to be cared for… and you know… for them not to die is common etiquette that every adult should extend to a child in need. those are not “dad goals!!!” it’s quite literally just basic human decency. gale is genuinely kind and caring to everyone he meets, there is no reason why this also wouldn’t apply to children.

i often see fandom mention his encounter with mol at last light and how excited he is to talk to her. which i think greatly misinterprets the context of the scenario since he didn’t have much of a reaction to mol before either — gale is ecstatic about lanceboard. again evident by his reaction to the party finding the life-sized board during the wyrmway trials, and how he immediately offers to give tav pointers. explaining different approaches to them in enthusiastic detail if they allow him to. the man just really likes lanceboard… as well as being the smartest person in the room.

gale: ah, lanceboard! why, this might just be the highlight of our misadventures to date.

gale: lanceboard happens to be a game with which i have more than a passing familiarity. might i offer a suggestion? nodecontext: gale's a badass lanceboard player, anticipating showing off

if you want to headcanon your tav and gale raising a big family together that is more than fine and no one is stopping you. whatever you want to happen to these two after the storyline of the game is up to your respective fantasies. no one is policing you on what you should do with your own character. go wild and create whatever fan content you wish, no justification required.

yet once again, as there is no mention in canon anywhere — neither in the main game nor the epilogue — that this is something gale would ever want (whether that may mean immediately or somewhere down the line) gale wanting to be a father remains a headcanon. while gale being childfree is explicitly shown in the game, in strict comparison to other companions that either have children by the end of the game or voice the desire to (eventually) have them.

my personal preferences are of no relevance here whatsoever. i care about accurate and correct characterization and will point out inconsistencies/false information no matter the topic. i, for one, want to appreciate these characters in the way they're written, not how i ideally want them to be.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

hey everyone

just getting on here to have a conversation about some things that i need to clear up.

so for starters, i’m going to come right out and say that i’m taking a break from tumblr… lately i have been subjected to seeing multiple thinly veiled posts about me floating around and i cannot sit by and allow myself to be treated like that

that being said, i am taking this break to focus on my mental health; 911 used to be a comfort show to me- somewhere i could just go to and watch whenever i needed to be picked up, because even if the show was still forcing certain storylines/arcs, they at least made some sense for the characters and didn’t rely on completely rewriting and ignoring their history within the narrative.

911 is no longer that for me anymore. tim minear and the writing team have ruined any and all enjoyment i got from earlier seasons due to continuing KR’s trend of completely retconning the narrative while simultaneously blatantly dragging us along by dangling buddie canon over our heads with a stick only to immediately snatch it away at the last second.

today’s “first look” article only further confirmed my suspicions that tim had no intentions of leading to buddie canon.

i see the takes/theories about what the article could mean, but we have made theories such as this every year only for it to not go anywhere; nothing had indicated that s8 will be any different.

for starters, tim is bringing back a known problematic actor to play a problematic character that tim continues to retcon, despite the fandom being outspoken about how insane this is. instead of listening to the fandom, instead he has them continuing to develop their chemistry-less relationship saying that they are going strong.

secondarily, tim wrote out a beloved poc character in order to keep this problematic character around- something that i think the fandom has moved on from a little too quickly

thirdly, we continue to be told that eddie will be making progress each season, yet we never actually see that progress happen, and if we do, never in a way that is actually in character; on top of that, we have fans begging for his character to be ruined simply so that his character arc will be sexualized due to it involving two conventionally attractive men.

this fandom no longer feels like a safe space for me mentally and i hate that… i am devastated at the thought of no longer interacting with my mutuals, but i cannot engage with content that showcases the real-time decline of a show i used to adore before the creators decided to ruin that enjoyment.

so i am taking a bit of my break; i dont know how long nor how permanent of a break this is, but i need to put my mental health first.

until next time (whenever that may be)

[sgiandubh]

On leadership

This is a personal comment on @luhafraser's last post, where she wrote, in plain English:

'But I can't help but notice that since I joined this fandom, what we have in all the groups in this fandom are "leaders", they come and go, new ones appear, or reinvent themselves. There are people that stand out and lead others to follow their ideas and statements. It is these people that receive information, have sources, receive pics, and are fed by "anonymous" (Sorry, but a lot of things that have already appeared could only have come from someone "inside"). I know we are all adults, but there are those who know how to influence or who are led to be influencers, there are those who understand that and there are those who don't.'

Dear @luhafraser,

You wrote a couple of things with great confidence, as you usually do, and I feel I have to say something,

I have invited you already to name names, not allude to persons in your posts, as you so transparently seem to be doing right now. So yes, I felt looked upon and judged. By you (and not only you). Since Day 1. You thought I was never going to respond, well - you were wrong. The day has come and the day is now.

Dear @luhafraser, while I do immensely appreciate your real qualities (intelligence, humor, sleuthing, etc.), I am less a fan of this kind of little games, both in public and behind the scenes. My sudden apparition seems to have bothered you, with Anons asking you (June 20, 2023) if I was really a new person joining in and you denying it without taking the time to talk to me:

This is simply not done, my dear. I have openly and transparently engaged with people since Day 1 and never lied about my own circumstances. Your answer started a flurry of speculation that kept people interested all summer long and forced me to dox myself. So kindly prove me and all the others I am not a newbie (something completely impossible to do), do it in public and own the things you post in here.

I am not a leader of anything, @luhafraser , and I have no wish to be regarded as such. Ever. I have learned, in 20 years of my high-level public service career, that being the boss corrupts and exposes. But yes, I did want to be a disruptively positive voice in what I felt to be an intimidated community. I wanted to bring more clarity and all those research skills to all of you. I wanted honesty. And I, above anything else, wanted to help. And I am sorry that people agreeing or liking what I post seems to bother you. It is not something I can help you with. It is what it is. There is a place for all our voices to be heard in here. Every single one of them.

I have no inside information on SC and never did. I have not betrayed anything that was shared with me in DMs and only posted things when adamantly asked to do so, after careful vetting and only from people I knew. However I am a hell of a bloodhound when I am set to find something and I am rather good at what I do, also in real life. I also know when to stop and will never share things that would be legally questionable. It would expose us and it is a risk simply not worth taking.

I am not here for clicks and likes. My block list is three or four times bigger than my dash. I do not care for fame, but I do care for a couple of trusted people that became real friends. It is for them and for them only that I am not giving you satisfaction and quit.

I keep my promises. I will not go anywhere. If you do not like what I write, please unfollow and block immediately - this goes for anyone that feels bothered about me being here, in any way. I have no wish to start a war with any of you - that would make Mordor glee with joy for months. But please do me and yourself a favor: if in doubt, go now. I cannot stand duplicity, never could.

I hope that sets the record straight. Believe it or not, I have no hostility towards you. Not a single ounce.

I am not expecting an answer.

[Later edit;] I am glad I doxed myself. Very glad. But that is another story.

[mysticficti0n]

All my Attention part 3

warnings- swearing, mentions of a dildo, sexual tension, kissing, quite fluffy

words- 3.1k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... well, sorry this part has taken a while- I'm on holiday atm so I probably wont be posting till I'm home BUT I didn't want you to be without, also fucking thank you all so much for the response to the first and second part! I can't believe the response to it, I could've cried because im a baby , love you all 🤍

(also to the people who've sent requests they will be coming soon!)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

"exactly what I said- we can't keep doing the same thing at every show" Georg spoke shovelling eggs into his mouth, the band and our runners, managers, directors, and everyone else who I didn't know exactly what they did for us... were all sat on tables eating breakfast before rehearsal "because I'm sorry if we go on tour I wont wanna blow my brain out because i'm playing by your side for the millionth time"

"yeah but there's a thing called a set list, we have to stick with it otherwise" Bill leaned closer into the table facing all of us "otherwise we'd get shit and we all know how Felix will react- we all remember last time" he had a point, Felix as nice as he can act is a massive cock, once in a performance we decided to all go to the front of that stage to say goodnight- but Felix didn't like that and he ended up cancelling our next 3 shows to 'teach us a lesson'

"even so" the bassist grumbled, the conversation fell short as we all continued to eat, I had a bowl of granola, greek yogurt, raspberries and strawberries, soon the scrapping of a chair pulled me from eating my breakfast, I looked up to see Tom in a huge black shirt and basketball shorts "hungry?" Georg joked seeing the pile of food on his friends plate

"a bit" Tom laughed grabbing part of a waffle "whats that?" he spoke looking at me, that was the first time he spoke to me since what happened only an hour before, I think we were both in a shock state still, but I also couldn't deny how good it felt

"granola, yogurt and fruit" I spoke back digging my spoon into the mix and pulling it back so he could have a taste, he bent forward taking the food and hummed

"Tha actuwally gwood" he spoke mouth still full

"ew Thomas swallow for fucks sake!" I spat seeing him nearly choke the food back up "Tom!" I called pushing myself away from the table "whats wrong with you" I laughed I look to see the rest of the boys laughing as well at his stupidity

"we can't go anywhere nice with you two" Bill commented throwing a napkin to his brother who wiped his mouth and finished his laugh

"sorry- I don't know why that was so funny to hear you say" he snorted, I finally sat back in my place next to Gustav who was eating his food with a smile

"all I said was swallow your food" I argued back looking at the guitarist

"normally me saying that to girls-" I rolled my eyes at his words but everyone else chuckled along, after another half an hour (mostly so Tom could finish his monstrous plate) we were bringing our bags down from the hotel room to put in the bus, we all got in the lift which I don't think was made for 5 people, and 2 of those 5 being over six foot tall

"can you move over I can't fucking breath" I spoke shoving Bill back bit

"now I can't breath you cunt!" Bill called back pushing me back laughing, soon the intercom spoke and the doors opened and I made my way out but was soon tackled by the black haired singer

"BILL WHAT THE FUCK" I shouted with a laugh, I crawled from his grip and began running away seeing him get up to and following my movement "AHHH!" I screamed turning a corner and then slipping past a cleaner cart

"Y/N COME HERE!" I herd Tom voice shout as I sprinted to him with his twin hot on my tail, I watched him open his hotel room and I ran as quick as I could into it and slammed the door spitting out a chuckle hearing the boy hit the door

"BITCH!" Bill sang followed by his own laugh and steps faded away from the door, I sat on Tom's bed and lay my head back into the sheets catching my breath hearing the door open again

"you good now?" He asked smiling at me "I didn't realise you were that fast- I swear you weren't when we were kids"

"excuse me! people change" I answered kicking him slightly, he grabbed my ankle stopping me from moving anymore- I melted at his touch which wasn't a usual thing

"mhm, you changed in a good way babe don't worry about it" he flirted looking down at me the smile changing into a smirk

"you're in a very odd mood today mr Kaulitz" I spoke sitting myself as he let go of my ankle

"only for you-" he leant down, pressing his head on mine "and if I remember properly, who moaned when we kissed earlier? hum?" his hand was now resting on the base of my neck "who was it Y/n?"

"I don't know Tom" I answered seeing him bite his lip at my words "maybe you imagined it?" we always played around, flirting but this was different... very different

"I have a fucking good imagination then don't I?" Tom pulled away slightly, his his fingers brushed my skin as he let go and he held my chin, lifting my face to look up to him "....I prefer looking at you like this" I blushed at his words, they made me feel soft

"bet you say that to all the girls" he seethed rolling his eyes

"only the special ones...and you're really special!"

"way to ruin a mood" I huffed

"I'm joking Y/n/n, you just look hot below me ts'all" his hand held me tighter and he bent to reach my lips, he pressed hard humming into the feeling and sucked my bottom lip causing me to have to hold back any noise I threatened to make as I didn't want a repeat of earlier "I better get packing" he spoke pulling back creasing my cheek with his thumb leaving me with a unfulfilled feeling

"yeah.." I pouted, he looked back down at me and grinned

"god don't look at me like that... fuck- stop now, I've gotta pack" I stood with him as he turned to grab a tossed shirt from the floor, his hand glided down my thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps- he knew what he was doing, making me blush and shudder as his hand left me "oopsie"

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we all sat backstage kicking our heals as the crowd arrived, but we also knew the crowd was special- our families were watching us tonight, I decided I'd wear a more appropriate outfit (not like my family hadn't seen pictures of me in mini-skirts and tube tops saying 'pouty') I looked alot like Tom, my baggy jeans hanging around my hips with a matching tank top to him "5 minuets!" a runner called making us all rise from our places

"excited?" Georg smiled shoving me lightly

"I can't wait" I spoke pinning around to the music that began, Bill looked back at me with a smile followed by a wink

"3...2...1" Felix called and Tom, Bill entered the stage erring a eruption from the crowd "go!" Georg and I walked on and smiled seeing the sea of fans watching us with grins plastering their faces and finally Gustav entered

"GOOD EVENING TRIER" Bill called holding the mic close "ARE YOU EXCITED!" though the lights were blinding I could make out the shapes of bodies from my place "ugh we have a show n' a half for you all tonight, and this show is very special to us- one, this is our last show here in the lovely Trier and- most importantly our biggest fans are here tonight" the lights moved to the box above the crowd and for the first time in weeks I saw them: mom, dad, Stella, the Kaulitz, Listing and Schäfer family, I nearly cried waving to them and blowing them kisses "so tonight is going to be the best show we've ever done guys! ARE YOU READY" I watched as my family cheered and little Stella clapped her hands. Tom's guitar began the start of Scream followed by Gustav and Bill ran back to main stage, the crowd danced and jumped along "SCREAM" they called back to us at every chorus making me laugh.

The night carried on and everything was going amazingly, and it came time for me to take centre stage, I brought my mic and herd people call my name "so- this is our newest piece of music, I originally wrote when I was in a very bad place, and as you all know I'm back up singer so usually I don't perform up here- so close to everyone so I'm a little nervous but.. but it means a lot to me so.. this is 'please don't jump'" claps filled the room and Tom joined me giving me a nod as he plucked away followed by Gustav and Georg, Bill was in the corner sipping a water watching me like a proud dad

I let my self get lost in the music, stomping my feet and twirling around "don't let memories go! of me and you" I sang watching my family stare in awe, I began up stage onto the platform where I stood teetering on the edge, all lights went off besides the one on me "PLEASE DON'T JUMP! DON'T JUMP, AND IF ALL THAT CAN'T HOLD YOU BACK, THEN I'LL JUMP FOR YOU" I finished bowing to the crowd who burst out with claps, screams and calls making me jump at the sudden noise

"Y/N Y/N Y/N!" people began to chant making me well up, Gustav ran up the platform steps holding my hand gently so I could get down the steps as it was tricky in platforms, hand in hand we met with Tom who smiled widely mouthing 'they're proud' I looked to see my mom whistling, soon the five of us stood at the tip of that walkway, people reached for us, calling us all over

"THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!" we all shouted bowing once more as the light darkened, we all walked off and back to our room where there were drinks set out and towel "shit Im so thirsty" Georg spoke grabbing the bottle and cracking it open as we all took our first proper breath and relaxed

"erm- sorry I know you got off stage but someones hear" Gayle, my runner spoke holding the door open a little more

"BABA!" a small voice called, I looked down to see Stella dressed in a Tokio Hotel shirt and orange leggings running toward me, her blonde hair tied into piggy tails

"STELLA!" I cried falling to my knees pulling her into my arms "oh my god I missed you so much" I whispered into her neck, her bright eyes looked into mine and I couldn't let go of her, I pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks

"Oh my- Y/n dear! another voice came in and I snapped my head to see my mother, tear stained face reaching for me, I watched as Stella ran onto Gustav who picked her up hugging her tightly and I ran to my mom who was closely followed by the rest of our families "sunshine I missed you!"

"I missed you too mom" I cried as she stroked my hair away from my face, she let go and I turned to see my dad who had Tom in a bro-hug

"aww hello Poppy!" he spoke, I nearly fell apart hearing my nickname again, and he grabbed me into the hug "aw that was amazing kids" he spoke letting go of us, I stood speaking with them until I herd the voice of my sister

"Tommy!" she laughed and everyones faces snapped to her

"SHE SAID MY NAME!" The dreadheaded boy called lifting her into his arms and tickling her "ME BEFORE BILL!" he danced seeing her smile

"Hey! Stella I thought you liked me more!" Bill huffed squishing the cheeks of her face

"am I the better twin?...yeah! I know" Tom scoffed bouncing her on his hip, our families laughed and all began hugging each other

"darlings that show was fantastic and the crowd! I couldn't believe it" Simone, the twins mom smiled "I couldn't be more proud"

"thanks mom" Bill hugged pressing a kiss to her cheek "wait..erm hold on!" we all watched as the singer ran out calling for something, I turned to see Stella smiling and reaching for all the boys, Tom, Georg and Gustav were sat on the floor singing songs and twirling her around, the song finished and Stella did a bow making the boys laugh at her antics

"Baba!" the little blonde called reaching for me, Tom realised and quickly scooped her up so she was lying on her tummy with her arms out she began airplane sounds (but kept interrupting herself with her chuckles) "Brrrrrrrrr!" she grinned showing her two small teeth

"aww my baby airplane" I spoke reaching for her as Tom got closer, the two reached me and I took my sister from his arms spinning her while pressing a kiss to her cheek again "you're a very cute plane Stella"

"Plane!" she repeated getting a 'yeah a plane' from the guitarist who couldn't stop smiling

"Okay... everyone come stand over here were getting a photo!" Bill came back in grabbing his family, the line up was the Kaulitz' far left, then my family the Y/l/n's, then the Schäfer's and finally Listing's "We want a few!" Bill called to the person holding the camera

"1...2....3" everyone did a wide smile, even Stella knew what was going on "perfect, do you want another one of these then we can do different stuff like.. the point?" its like a lightbulb went off it the taller twins head

"okay yes... then the point, then serious faces, then one with us 5 a bit more infront of our families, then on chairs" he rambles while setting us all back out for the next 3000 photo's we'd be taking

I don't think I've ever herd the numbers 1,2 and 3 said so much in my life but after half an hour the pictures were finally done and in fairness they looked great "well we best get going" Christine, Georg's mom spoke grabbing her bag

"oh.." we began before Simone whispered something to her husband

"why don't you all come stay round ours? we can have a family night, drinks, games, food" me and the band cheered, quickly grabbing our stuff and getting ready to walk out- we knew that today being a day show, fans would be waiting for us- we decided the safest option was to give our families over to security along with our bags and walk out on our own

"okay Stella we'll see you in a little while okay?" I hugged her once more before giving her over to dad who was carrying her out, we waited till we knew they were in their cars and I came the time we'd be walking out, with one last check of the room we began outside, screams filled our ears, people threw flowers to us, cards, papers and... thongs- but we picked the flowers up. a few people grabbed at my clothing but besides that it was a safe 3 minuet walk from the building to the bus

"they were loud" Gustav spoke getting into his favourite seat, at the very back on the left "Georg come sit!" he called to the bassist who jumped through the seats, leaving Bill who liked sitting in the front then me and Tom sat in the middle two seats

"god I fucking loved that show" I spoke belting myself in, Tom did the same and our hands brushed- its not something that many would really worry about, it was an accident.. but I could help go hot at the feeling

"it was so good, I feel like we'll be in Felix's good books" the dreaded boy spoke getting a nod from the band, we finally began the drive home, it would only take around an hour and a half so I got myself comfy which meant me resting my legs over Tom- this was a normal thing as usually sometime around the trip we'd switch and I can accidentally put my cold drink on his legs while he's asleep definitely not making him yelp- no not at all...

"can you take my shoes off, you're closer" I spoke tapping his shoulder and with a huff he began unlacing the platforms, I sighed at the feeling of my feet going light and not having to lug those shoes around any more "thanks bab" I called leaning my head back, Tom got comfy to, scooting deeper into the seat and his hands lay on my legs drawing small shapes and humming a long to whatever song was on the radio

"wanna know something crazy?" He asked looking over at me to which I nodded "I haven't fucked a girl since Tuesday, and its Friday now" I pretend to be shocked, slapping my hands to my face

"holy shit! that is crazy!" he rolled his eyes "I can't even remember when I last fucked someone- probably around my birthday" I sighed slightly annoyed, not that I'm some sex freak who needs to be constantly fucked to live but... my birthday is in February and its now July

"damn... how do you go that long?" Georg spoke uncrossing his arms, being genuinely interested

"Notta clue... I-"

"Y/n I know whats in the back draw in your room" Bill turned showing a sinister smile

"Bill!" I called knowing exactly what he was on about

"ooo" the boys cooed making me go red, Bill laughed even harder pointing at my face "aww! she's embarrassed about her dil-"

"BILL SHUT IT!" I shouted flinging my empty water bottle at him making him cackle throwing his pillow at me

"IT'S BLACK!" He called and the 4 boys Burt out laughing again spluttering words and coughing at how much they were laughing

"oh my god you are all dicks!" I groaned trying to push myself as far back into my seat as I could, I even took my legs down from Tom who I could realised but I was way to embarrassed to give him a 'look'

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"he traffic isn't moving so were going to be a little later to the Kaulitz" Gregory our driver spoke facing us

"ugh" we all collectively sighed, its been over 30 minuets of just stand-still traffic, cars horns went off but nothing was moving and being a warm day in a quite packed van it was getting hot

we'd moved past the dildo conversation thanks to Tom who made a fool of himself by spilling water all down his shirt- I did wonder though, was it on purpose? to take away the attention from me... but anyways whatever it was, or even just it was an accident- my legs were back on his and he continued to draw little shapes

"I'm going to sleep" Bill spoke looking back to which we gave a nod, by we I mean me and Tom as the other two fell asleep a few minuets back, the van sound turned quiet as the radio was turned off

"wanna play a game?" Tom spoke quietly

"sure, which game?" I asked seeing a little grin appear to his face

"erm... eye spy?"

[thrashkink-coven]

someone asked if I live with my parents, in regards to how I have such a large altar, and how they might feel ab it. I was working on a long post ab it but then it vanished into the stratosphere so idk what that was ab or where it went.

But to answer the question, making an incredibly long story short, I do not live with my parents, I live with my partner and a couple roommates.

Tea time :) ☕️ Hot piping tea time besties!!! 🤩

My mom used to be somewhat accepting of my transition and identity. She helped me in the medical care system and even got me testosterone (although she always seemed a bit iffy). However after she met her current partner that all fell apart. He is extremely, and I mean EXTREMELY Christian and extremely controlling. This man burned my bfs hoodie because it had a sigil on it. He red faced SCREAMED (and I mean SCREAMED) in my face that I was going to hell for being trans, that I was disgusting and that he didn’t want me anywhere near his kids. After which, my ✨mother✨ blamed me for pushing his buttons too much (by being trans) and told me she would no longer support my transition. She told me that she would rather burry me in the ground in the event that I lost my life to suicide than deal with having a trans kid. I will never forget that.

That was during the first lockdown at the height of the pandemic, so I was trapped in that house and it was torture. When I say that man is extremely Christian and conservative, I mean it. He forced me and his kids to watch religious videos every Saturday, which were basically just dudes screaming at you that you’ll go to hell if you sin over stock footage of clouds. He would try to guilt trip me for not wanting to participate. (Not to mention he contributed very heavily to my eating disorder by trying to force us all to be vegan and taking away all of my safe foods, despite cooking steaks for himself every night. If I could use one word to describe that man it would be “Hypocrite”. I was constantly anxious and starving, holy shit I could write an entire book about how terrible living in that house with that man was and how betrayed I felt by my mom for putting me through that)

The last straw for my mom was when I expressed to my gender therapists that I really want and need top surgery. She acted like I was springing it on her out of nowhere despite us having conversations about it since I was 14. She told me that I would not be recovering from that surgery under her roof and that it would upset her partner too much. Soon she started making little comments about how disgusted she was in the changes testosterone was giving me, how my voice was getting deeper and how I was gaining muscle, and I became terrified that she would try to force me to detransition.

For me, the final straw was after me and my mom had an argument about money (she took it from my bank account without asking and got mad when I asked for it back) as punishment she decided that I would start having to pay rent for my room in the house. I told her that I would not be paying to live somewhere where I cannot feel safe being myself or bringing my partner around. She told me to either get over it or pay up.

As soon as I turned 18 I started looking into programs in my school that help young queer people who are facing potential homelessness find housing. My mother never explicitly kicked me out (she’ll still say that to this day) but she made it impossible for me to stay. I do believe that her partner was actively trying to systematically get me and my older brother out of the house so he could further isolate my mom. He was the one that told my mom that I was manipulating her into “letting me be trans” by pretending to be suicidal. Yeah. Seriously. And to be honest, it’s fucked up and sad but I also see my mom as a victim due to some other things I won’t mention here (when I say controlling I mean CONTROLLING) But the abuse she went through does not justify her role as my abuser. As much empathy and understanding I have as to why she acted the way she did, I still don’t accept that behaviour. Constantly hearing about how you’re an abomination and how God will surely destroy you starts to take a toll after a while, especially when you’re not allowed to leave the house.

Through my efforts I landed a job but I still didn’t have enough money for even the smallest bachelor pads.

One night after having an extreme meltdown I just… ran away. I went to my bfs house because I didn’t know where else to go, but I was fully prepared to walk to a homeless shelter. I am so incredibly lucky that he and his mother are amazing and understanding people because they embraced me with open arms. They gave me a place to stay and never pressed me about money. I have never gone back to my mother’s house since. If it wasn’t for them I would not be alive right now. They genuinely saved my life and I am forever grateful to them for that.

After my bf and I finally got our own place after living with his parents for nearly 2 years , my mom decided that time passed is equivalent to an apology, and wanted to rekindle our relationship. However, after she tried to visit my place and was met by my roommates who are also all trans, things didn’t go her way. She kept asking for my dead name and misgendering me. My roommates stood up for me and told her that she should stop misgendering me and have some respect, that they didn’t know anyone by that name, and that it’s not cool for her to still be calling me that.

My mom gave me a very angry phone call, telling me that my friends are disrespectful and that they should know that she’s the only person allowed to disrespect me because she gave birth to me. Unfortunately for her that is not the case.

My response to that was this:

and her response was this:

So it was what it was. She tried to withhold my phone plan from me as punishment because it was the only thing left that I relied on her for anymore. I said fuck it, got a new phone plan and continued on with my life.

I’ve tried to have conversations with her to reach an understanding hundreds of times in the past, countless letters and one sided conversations, she was never interested. It is what it is. We haven’t really spoken since then and I’m content with that. Believe me, I have said all I could possibly say.

In terms of my paganism, my whole family subscribed to a certain genre of black conservative Christianity that sees all indigenous forms of spirituality as evil. I don’t know how much they know about my craft but I know they hate it, and that’s fine. My mom hates my dark art and wanted me to use my ✨talents✨ to make Christian art. The only person in my family who even somewhat understands me is my older brother and we have a good relationship. I am no longer concerned with trying to please people who don’t see me as a person. Those who are real will stick around, and those who won’t, wont.

I know that they probably think I’m lost and broken and using demons to fill the void, and they can think that. One thing I want to make incredibly clear is that I do not harbour resentment towards the Christian God, Christianity or Jesus Christ for the terrible actions of his followers. I came to peace with and forgave him long ago. I love him. My being a Luciferian is not revenge against my mom or God. That God has always been there for me and supported me for who I am through all of this, and he still does.

Since I was a child I’ve always been told that I don’t know who I am, that I can’t think or speak for myself, and since I was a child I have always remained 10 toes down on who I am. They won’t believe that I’m really trans until the day I die, they won’t believe that I lived a beautiful and fulfilling life as a devotee of Lucifer because they cannot fathom that I know and love myself. Oh well, they say success is the best revenge.

I love my family and I always will, but for their comfort and my safety I keep my distance from them. I’m pretty damn sure they wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me anyways with all their paranoia about the devil.

Funnily enough Lucifer has been excellent bigot repellent for me. He’s always protecting me from people who would hate me anyways. If my paganism is such an abomination that it prevents my past abusers from hurting me more, then that’s a bonus in my eyes. Stay the fuck away from me if it bothers you so much, we don’t have enough in common to have a productive conversation anyways. If ever my mother came to me honestly and sought true redemption, I would certainly forgive her, I don’t enjoy being estranged. But that would take effort and care on her part, and that simply does not seem to be her biggest priority right now, it never was and I never was. It izz what it izz 🤷‍♂️

So yeah, tldr, I definitely don’t live with my parents lol.

[thequeenofthewinter]

Thirsty Thursday

...I couldn't help myself. AHEM. Anyway, the poll I ran yesterday told me that the majority of people voting would like to see more of the smut from yesterday. I am warning you that this has explicit content, so scroll away if that isn't your cup of tea.

Also, if you don't want to be spoiled for when I eventually do post this (which might be another two weeks, then skip this. I am still working on the smut, and it isn't complete yet.) ;)

Leaning her head into his warm palm, she presses a kiss to the rough skin there. “We both know how this works, and as much as I would love nothing more than to ignore my responsibilities and stay right here, I cannot allow that.”

Ulfric sighs, his lips finding the side of her neck as he places soft, open-mouthed kisses there. “What if I give you something to remember me by—to keep you warm while you are alone in your tent at night?”

His mouth trails down, beard scratching at her soft skin until it finds her collarbone. “Something you will sorely miss, as I will miss you.” He sucks the skin into his mouth, teeth teasing her as much as his words.

“We shouldn’t. It will only make things harder for the both of us in the morning.” However, even as she protests, her head moves to the side, hair falling into Ulfric’s face.

 His lips twitch into a knowing smile as he looks up at her, reaching a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear. “All I will have is my hand, and you know that will not keep me as warm as you do. Would you let me suffer without the taste of you?”

Dahlia hums, a hand stroking lazily down his side as she leans into him. “Your hand, hm?”

“Just my hand, thoughts of you, and a throbbing ache which will not quite be satisfied without you, my heart.” 

“Is that all you want from me? Release?” Her hand finds its way to the front of his chest, a playful smile on her face as she slides it down towards his waist.

“You would never be just a release to me.” The hand cupping her face moves down suddenly to stop hers. “Lay back, and allow me to show you.”

Warmth from the fire sinks into her skin, mirroring the heat she feels from him as he gently lays her back on the furs before the hearth. “Here? On the floor? Are you sure?”

“Here, the bed, anywhere. All I want is to be inside my wife before she leaves. The place is irrelevant.”

“Persuasive and romantic. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

“I’m about to find out.” His voice is low and throaty to her ears as he plants more kisses down her chest until he reaches the tops of her breasts. His fingers follow, teasing at the edge of her nightgown before pulling the straps of it down gently. “I’d rather like the sound of you singing my praises, my name the only thing falling from your lips as I fuck you slowly until you unravel.”

“Ulfric—”

He takes a nipple into his mouth, biting down softly before flicking his tongue over to tease it. “Exactly like that.”

Dahlia’s breath hitches, and she shivers under his gaze. All his attention focuses on her as his eyes trail down to the blue silken fabric riding up her thighs. Words are unnecessary, the silent command is clear enough to her.

Her arms lift along with her hips, and Ulfric slowly pulls her gown off over her head. “I knew you wanted this as much as I did.” He leans forward, breath fanning across her ear as he lays her back again. “You’re always eager for me.” A hand trails up her inside of her thigh as her legs fall open for him. “My wife, so needy for me. How could I not please her?” His fingers inch a bit higher. “Not touch her?” Higher. “Not bring her to release?”

He thumbs at the edge of her small clothes, running the pad of his finger just under the cloth.

Dahlia’s breath hitches, and his lips twitch into an easy smile. As much as he loves teasing her, it brings him even more satisfaction to know that she allows him to do so.

One of her hands reaches to brush over the front of his pants before slipping under the waistband. “And I’ll be happy to call your name…stroke your ego.”  She cups him. “Because I know that is also what you like, dear husband. Me, lips parted, back arched against you, your name drawn out into a breathy moan as I fall over the edge with you.”

“That can be arranged for you. I did promise you something to remember me by.” Ulfric pushes his fingers the rest of the way under the cloth, gliding over her center teasingly. “I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already wet.” He hums with approval. “Will you think about me while you are away?”

“Of course.”

His fingers trace lightly over her clit. “I want you to touch yourself while you do.” He dips two fingers into her slowly, and her breath hitches. “Like this.”

A sigh escapes her as she feels her cheeks heat at the thought. While she has thought of him—imagined the ghosting of his hands over her, even dreamed of him while he is away—she has never...

“Ulfric!”

He leans forward to place his lips to the side of her neck, sucking hard as his fingers continue to curl inside her. “What is it, my heart?”

For once, the rumble of his voice is not teasing but rather gentle which surprises her. 

“I—” 

His fingers continue to stroke languidly inside of her, building a steady rhythm. With each pass, she cannot help but try to lift her hips to meet him.

“Tell me. Talk to me.”

[lestappenforever]

Unpopular opinion here but we should all just chill. It is not good to post that question but the level of panic and accusation is out of proportion imo.

AO3 has been around more than a decade (and probably be older than some of us). RPS is so huge that literally any celebrities have been shipped. It was hardly the first time AO3 was mentioned to a celebrity.

Honestly I dont think straight guys care about fandom. Even if someone tells them at their faces about AO3, they may find it weird and forget about it five minutes later. They are more interested in checking out hot chicks’ instagram or making dirty jokes with their mates, than searching fan fic featuring him with another guy.

And more importantly, those F1 admins are well aware of fandom and highly likely have tumblr/AO3 account (come on how many times they mentioned lestappen?) It is not new information to them that AO3 exists. If they have not mentioned fan fic to the drivers before, I dont see any reason they would mention it just because of that one comment.

Do I think fandom should keep among ourselves and not bring it in front of the real persons? Yes

Do i think we should all be in panic mode and police other people? Not really

Hi anon! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. ❤️

I personally don't agree that we "should all just chill" at all, and the reason for this is that I have personally - as have so many other people - seen this go wrong so many times in the past with different fandoms. If certain (loud) people in the fandom are unable or unwilling to respect the boundaries between real people and the fandom, then this can cause serious issues for the fandom in general, and the real people involved.

Not only that, not shoving these parts of fandom down the throats of the real people involved is simply just a matter of respect. These guys, straight or not, probably have no interest whatsoever in reading about or seeing things that involve them doing weird shit to their friends or colleagues. And therefore, nobody should try to make them get involved with these types of things. If they are interested in or curious about these things, they'll go looking for things themselves, without needing the involvement of fans.

Imagine you had someone try to force you to watch or read porn involving yourself and someone else you definitely have no romantic or sexual feelings for whatsoever. Or somebody trying to force you into engaging with a kink that you have serious issues with and makes you incredibly uncomfortable just to think about. Now, I'm a pretty easygoing person and would personally find it hilarious if somebody wrote explicit fanfictions about myself and one of my friends. But I'm also very much aware of the fact that that's just me. But then on the other hand, I also get seriously uncomfortable with certain tropes or kinks for different reasons, and if somebody pestered me about those things? I would fucking hate it.

We have no idea about these drivers' sexualities, what their boundaries are, or what they can or cannot stand, and therefore, we should all respect the boundaries between fandom and the real people involved, and do what we can to keep these things separate.

Although I definitely agree with you about not thinking the drivers caring about those parts of fandom now, if the people who are unable or unwilling to understand the importance of boundaries keep being insufferable and loud about it, which too many people are being on social media already, then there is a serious risk that not only are they going to start caring, but they're going to start feeling uncomfortable with it all and let it impact the way they're acting around other drivers. Despite the fact that I don't think we're anywhere near that point yet, if people don't stop doing what they're doing and stop trying to shove those parts of fandom into the real people's faces, then there is a serious risk that we will end up reaching that point. And it's not going to be fun for anyone.

It's happened before, several times, and it can definitely happen again. And it always starts with what we're seeing in the F1 fandom right now.

It's not about "policing other people" at all, it's about trying to get those people in the fandom to understand why what they're doing is a bad idea, and why it's disrespecting boundaries that should be respected at all times. The majority of these fans are likely quite young and new to fandom in general, and I do believe it's a good idea that they get told, in no uncertain terms, that what they're doing can potentially cause some serious issues and personally impact the people they're fans of in a negative way, and why they shouldn't be doing it. Honestly, it's the only way they're going to learn. Hell, it's the only way any of us learned.

We've all been new to fandom at some point, and doing and saying things without thinking about the potential future impact in the beginning is definitely not an uncommon thing.

So I think the response we've seen to these comments on RBR's recent Tiktok video is absolutely justified, because there are so many of us who have seen it go so very, very wrong in the past, and we don't want to see it go this wrong again.

[many-faced]

Many-Faced's Introduction post

Hello! I'm Many-Faced, but I typically use Tea as a nickname. I'm fine with any nicknames as long as it's clear you're referring to me!

I'm a self-taught artist. I also do animations sometimes! You can occasionally find me participating in Multi Animator Projects or making animation memes and posting them on youtube! Though uh... it's mostly shitposting. Oopsies.

I am Agender!

I use any pronouns :>

This includes neos! Specifically I'm testing the use of ze and xe. Please do keep in mind that I tend towards masculine pronouns over feminine ones, and while I don't mind she/her, I'd prefer they/them, he/him or neos.

Before you interact!

I am a minor!

Please do not bring extremely suggestive or NSFW content anywhere near me or my blog. Not only am I 16, but I am also asexual and get very uncomfortable around those topics.

I sometimes struggle with tone.

Please use tone tags where possible so I don't take a joke as an accusation or whatever! I overthink... way too much. Oopsies..

I do in fact swear a lot

While you'll notice on Youtube I try to stay mostly clean, although I do swear now and then. I do generally swear a lot. Especially on Discord, the swear jar for me and my friends is always overflowing.

I am unhinged and I talk and type faster than I think

If I say something weird or irrational and need to go back and correct myself, yeah that's normal, it happens a lot.

I am Autistic and have ADHD

It's unlikely to cause any problems further that what I've already mentioned, but as mentioned before please please PLEASE tonetags where you can, I don't wanna misread something

Do NOT interact:

If you support any sort of discrimination. Any discriminatory messages will be immediately deleted and you will get no response, I'm not fuelling someone like that.

If you use AI unethically. Unlike many other artists, I am neutral on AI. If it was ethical, I could see the benefits, yes, but it isn't. We're using in a way that harms creatives, replacing them with robots that cannot ever truly make anything new. So if you pedal AI 'art' or think a movie created by all AI would be so 'great', you can leave now.

Cryptobros. Don't pedal me your scam coin, because I'm not buying it.

If you're just here to send hate and start drama. Seriously, if you have a genuine criticism I'm here to listen, but if you're just hating to hate, what are you even doing?

Proshippers. I hope I don't need to explain why some relationships are actually just illegal. Illegal things in general obviously are not welcome here.

Hey look, Cool people!

@darkhatkid - the shadow in the corner of my room that tells me to draw insane shit

@mugzymiik - absolute nutcase, don't trust em ever, e likes kissing shapes and robots/lhj (they have also beta read a few of my fanfics!)

My Fandoms

This list may be rarely up to date... Don't be surprised if I suddenly spawn in with a bunch of art for a fandom not on the list.

Rain World

Warrior Cats

JSAB

Stray

Inscryption

Worldless

My AUs and Stories

The Halfway - An original work made from the ground up by me that asks the question 'if there are multiple realities, what's between them?' Sounds all philosophical, right? Well, kind of, but also I just found it funny to turn vague concepts into insane pseudo-deities and put them through the wringer of existing. A serious story with a comedic streak, hopefully.

JSAB: Reloaded - A JSAB AU. I don't currently have much to say about it since it's under reconstruction. Remind me to rewrite this at some point when I get the story nailed down.

Rain World: False Affirmative - A Rain World AU. Asked the question 'what if Five Pebbles succeeded in making the taboo bypass?' and snowballed into an entire AU with a zombie virus rot and a whole lineup of new slugcats and iterators while also expanding on the canon ones.

Worldless: Polarized - A worldless AU that is sort of on a semi-hiatus.

Other socials!

Want to find me somewhere else? Here's where you can!

Youtube

Other/Notes

Please do not send me random art requests in my askbox!

Moots, dw, ya cool, I won't met mad at you for doing that [don't expect me to actually do it though,, I might,, maybe].

What I don't want is random followers sending me art requests, even if it's of fandom characters from fandoms I'm in. I don't reaally like being asked to do something by someone I don't know well. This has happened a few times and I promise I'm not mad at any of you! Just keep this in mind, please ^^

[punemy-spotted]

A Worthy Grave - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - The Dead Become the Emperors of Memory

Pairing: Federal Agent!Ari Levinson x Witch!Reader

Masterlist; Chapter 1; Chapter 2

Pairing: Federal Agent!Ari Levinson x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS STILL A HORROR FIC; A Whole Lot of Body Horror; Blood and Gore; Harm to an Animal; Gruesome Murder; Religious Iconography; Straight up Heresy; Christ Imagery; Gruesome Descriptions of Organs; Ghosts; Ghouls; Violence Against Women; Discussion of Grief; Witchcraft; Blood; I Cannot Articulate Enough That This is a HORROR Fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat; Seriously so so dead, HEED THE WARNINGS

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: Death was not supposed to visit you in the one place you spent your day speakin’ for it, carvin’ answers out of flesh and bone.

Notes: So yes it took me 84 years to update and I'm SORRY. Please take this update as an apology. (also yes this was on Ao3 ages ago… depression’s a bitch, y’all.)

I cannot emphasize enough that this is a horror fic so things are going to get gory going forward. PLEASE read at your own discretion, I'm begging you.

As always, I crave feedback so please let me know your thoughts! Have questions about the lore? Let me know about those too! As a reminder, reblogging fics supports authors so please let me know you want more by liking AND reblogging!

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The next morning comes with lab results and Ari Levinson bringing you coffee, bright and early.

Good coffee, too, which you note with amusement the moment you take a sip, You convince Janice to upgrade the beans?

Pretty sure she’d tell me asking wasn’t even on the budget. I went to Jed’s.

You go to his restaurant or his house?

You’re teasing him — which you’ll admit is new for you, especially with Ari fuckin’ Levinson standin’ in front of you, sipping coffee and enjoying one of Jed’s famous breakfast sandwhiches — but considerin’ your couch an’ the fact that he slept on it night before last, it’s not like you’re unjustified, is it? A fact which he, to his credit, takes in stride, taking a smug sip of coffee — if such a thing were possible, it would be Levinson to pull it off — and shrugging, Showin’ up unannounced at the ass-crack of dawn’s a privilege I reserve for you, Doc.

You roll your eyes, hide your smile behind the lip of your coffee cup, Just cuz you spent the night on my couch don’t mean I’m gonna be any nicer to you, Levinson.

Shit, Doc, you start bein’ nice to me and I might swoon here and now.

You’d refuse to admit it if he or anyone else asked you to, but that makes you laugh, hidden behind a huff that could be annoyance or amusement, Hope you ain’t expectin’ me to catch you, Levinson.

I learned my lesson last time the Chief tried makin’ us do trust exercises.

Not my fault you didn’t warn me.

He shrugs, you roll your eyes, turning back to the computer as it dings with a message for you to review, You better have ordered me a sandwich too, or I’m bannin’ you from my biscuits for the foreseeable future.

That’s for you to find out in the lunchroom, Doc.

Where the hell’s your apple butter?

In a twist of fate you will not be thankin’ anyone for — least of all Ari Levinson — there is a sandwich waiting for you in the breakroom fridge, labeled and everythin’. You pop it into the toaster oven like you always do with Jed’s takeaway, pouring yourself a glass of sweet tea and taking the time you deserve for yourself an’ your lunch break, having taken great care to make sure there’s not an ounce of paperwork or results to review while you sip tea an’ enjoy a meal to the sound of blessed silence.

Most of the office would be done with their lunches by now, or eatin’ at their desks to avoid traffic in the break room. ‘Course, with your lab, the idea of eatin’ a meal with a frozen corpse in the next room waitin’ for you to finish rummagin’ around in its guts did not whet the appetite.

Least the break room don’t smell like formaldehyde all the time.

So you take your vigil here, disappearing into your thoughts and the quiet joy of pastrami on rye.

Until Ari Levinson, like a bloodhound sensin’ the exact moment you find silence in your life and choosin’ to hunt it down, comes strollin’ in, See you found the sandwich, Doc.

You might’ve been grateful you’d already finished your meal, just sippin’ tea by the time he came by, but you’re already missin’ silence and there’s a good fifteen minutes left before you need to clock back in an’ pretend you’re comfortable ‘round grieving parents, so you’d thank him to forgive you for lookin’ like he made you swallow a lemon. Whole. You bribin’ me with a sandwich to keep talkin’ to you, Levinson?

Is it working?

You open your mouth, poised to continue the time-honored tradition of tradin’ barbs with him, sarcastic quip ready to fly from your tongue, when you see her. Standin’ there in all her spectral glory, mouth open wide in a static scream of horror an’ fury, a livid necklace of purple bruises blooming around her throat, hollow eyes trained on you.

And Ari Levinson, goddamn him and his goddamn training, notices. Notices. Watches you. Makes silent note of how your mouth snaps shut, how your lips fold into a grim line and follows the trajectory of your gaze with a turn of his head, watchin’ the hallway behind him.

Hey Doc, he calls back to you, voice as level as he can probably manage it.

Yeah? You make a valiant effort at doing the same, refusin’ to take your eyes off the specter once known as Jane Doe #117.

I’m assuming you see her?

Sure do, Levinson.

There’s a pause, a moment, Ari’s hands slowly reaching for the gun at his holster and you slowly reaching a hand out to stop him, ears ringing as you try to make sense of the radio static pouring from that endless scream, your daddy’s lessons servin’ you well. Run.

A beat.

Then—Levinson, I need you to get security over to the lab.

The look he fires back at you is pure confusion, hand still poised over his gun and you know in your bones the only reason Jane Doe #117 hasn’t moved is cuz you’ve got eyes on her right now.

Bad deaths. The humanity is rotting out of her by the second, an’ no amount of cornbread offerings an’ promises to do our best are gonna keep her from lashin’ out at the humanity she’s lost, not ‘til the person who took it from her is found and named. Named for her to haunt until they too, turn to rot.

But you don’t got time to think about that right now, not when Ari’s already arguing with you ‘bout leavin’ you alone with an eyeless, bloodless, ghost. Or haint, you ain’t sure what he’ll call it—Doc, I know—

I know I didn’t stutter, Levinson. Security. Lab. Now.

It’s already too late.

Jon Doe #43 is less pleasant lookin’ than the girl whose ID he had hidden inside his flayed jaw — the girl whose radio static warning is still ringing in your ears as you take in the sight of him now, lookin’ leagues worse than he did the first time he showed up on your doorstep… two nights ago.

How quickly things move.

Ari swears low under his breath behind you, both of you frozen in place and trying to make sense of the tableau before you, the sight of a dead man strung up against the wall, arms outstretched and a crown of broken scalpels forced into the exposed bone of his scalp, head hanging low as if looking down at the figure kneeling at his bloody, skinless feet.

Is that…?

It is.

Something sick rises in your gut as you take a look at the blood-bathed figure kneelin’ before the corpse you know she’d been busy trynna put back together into somethin’ buryable, her gloved hands bound into some bastardization of penitent prayer by a line of what you’re pretty sure is John Doe #47’s own large intestine, havin’ been cleaned out after another one of your techs “recovered” it from the tupperware container it’d been found in when the whole mess’d been discovered.

You can’t see her face — part cuz she’s turned away from you, lookin’ up at that flayed Christ, an’ part cuz of the horned thing resting on her shoulders, a shape you wish you didn’t recognize as you take in the sight of cream-white fur stained with drippin’ viscera — but you suspect you know exactly what kinda expression she’s wearin’ underneath that “mask” forced over her.

Blood for blood.

You made a life of it, death. Cornbread offerin’s like your momma taught you the first time you met one of the wailin’ spirits of the woods ‘round your home, let ‘em gorge themselves on the vitality of food the same way a livin’ bein’ might fuel themselves with the actual thing. Tried to make sense of the static the way your daddy would when he stepped off the pulpit and into the graveyard behind your family home, always hissing warnings to the bein’s beyond to keep away from his family.

You made a life of it.

But just like the mountains, the ones meant to keep you safe if you kept ‘em safe, death was supposed to stay way the hell away from you, was supposed to keep its scythe off you an’ yours until they were good an’ ready to travel through that big black door. That was the promise written all over that big ol’ family Bible you spent  your childhood copyin’ so you’d be ready for the world outside your homemade Eden, the one you wielded like shield an’ sword against any manner of haint unwillin’ to recognize the darkness in your own blood.

Death was not supposed to visit you in the one place you spent your day speakin’ for it, carvin’ answers out of flesh and bone, woe to you who rend the flesh.

Your lab is now an active crime scene, casting you out to make your calls to next of kin — you know them, you’ve met her husband ‘bout a half-dozen times this past month alone, bringin’ her lunch when her scatterbrain forgot it, got used  to seein’ him lingerin’ sheepishly in the doorway and then hollerin’ for her to come out front an’ give her beau a kiss — and try to get used to sayin’ her name in conjunction with, There’s been… an incident.

You’re no grief counselor.

There’s no training for this, but it ain’t right. It ain’t right for someone who ain’t family to call hers, someone who don’t remember laughin’ at her gettin’ giddy over stomach contents. Someone who don’t understand what it’s like to miss the sound of her hummin’ some pop song you ain’t even heard of—

You holdin’ up alright, Doc?

Ari Levinson makes you jump for the second time in as many days, office phone clatterin’ from your hand as you spin ‘round and try not to let your heart beat out your chest, still too busy overthinkin’ to manage a glare, I’ll be fine. You get the security footage from the lab?

Yeah. Got a couple computer guys on it now, trying to figure out what happened.

Well, you sigh, rubbin’ the bridge of your nose as you lean against a metal countertop, We better hope we find out soon enough, cuz I’m ‘bout three seconds from shakin’ this whole goddamn buildin’ apart lookin’ for someone to pin this shit on.

Ari nods, mouth pressed into a thin line as the silence ‘tween you stretches out, eyes wanderin’ over to the closed-off lab, sanctuary swarmin’ with corpse beetles mournin’ the loss of one of their own as they try an’ find out whodunnit.

You know they won’t, ‘course, but it’s enough to let ‘em try.

You’d never admit it, of course — an’ maybe you’d almost forgotten it by now, those childhood truths givin’ way to the kinda truths you needed to keep your callin’ here in these mountains — but it used to terrify you. An’ why wouldn’t it, all ‘em screamin’ mouths an’ radio-static pleas beggin’ you to make sense of the injustices of the world they’d been cut right out of?

Too much, too much pain, too much horror, too much for a girl of tender years to tolerate hearin’, much less repeatin’ to those still grieving.

Problem with the dead is, well, they’re selfish. Don’t care if you’re barely old enough to understand the meaning of death, still meant to be shielded from those things that should long have left this plane of existence an’ passed through that big black door.

Ari Levinson don’t know none of that terror though, don’t know much more’n what you jammed into his head after blowin’ away another one of your ghosts, but he means well. Stands a little to close behind you like he could just peer ‘round an’ see the way your lips twitch as you swallow down blood an’ bile, holdin’ back the shadows of your daddy’s own temper.

You gonna be alright, Doc?

Ah shit.

You’d rather chew glass than tell him you prolly won’t be, tell him you just lost a girl you loved like your own blood, tell him you got cocky and now the very community you called your home was in danger cuz of it.

But there he is, standing in front of you like a fuckin’ sentinel while he waits for you to give him something back. Assurance, more likely, but as much as you’re used to tellin’ lies an’ keepin’ secrets, there are some falsehoods even yoou can’t keep.

Sure, you finally answer, trying to sound convincing and feeling the hollowness bitter itself on your tongue, I’ll live. Gimme a few hours an’ I’ll have somethin’ to say for her.

[vo-kopen]

So in case any of y’all were interested in Zippo’s origin from my other post (seen here) here it is. I appreciate that his first appearance has a diagram of his tech, and while his spandex is a bit generic, his harness and wheels make him stand out. It is a bit weird that this PI just randomly has invented a harness, but a future story could explore why a PI is a skilled mechanic and inventor. Maybe he wanted to be an inventor but his tech was too niche or impossible to mass produce, so he was forced to use his eye for detail as a PI. There is potential for future stories here. And as a reminder, Zippo is in the public domain, so he is free to use for anyone for anything.

It’s also interesting that while Zippo is faster than any human, he’s not anywhere near the speed of a proper speedster. The Flash and Quicksilver both are so far out of his weight class it’s hilarious. But that’s not a bad thing, its an unique idea to have a speedster using 1940’s machinery to move fast, I can’t recall any other speedsters like that. The tech also stands out against his uniform; it is far from streamline. There is a sense that it is not the optimal way to move fast, but it still enough to let him foil a villain or two. Almost like a street level speedster. If a writer using him has a more typical speedster in their cast, Zippo could be used to show the limits of technology.

I also appreciate that while Zippo is violent, he did not kill his enemies. This is the Golden Age and before the comic code authority, and as you can see the Pirate is not only willing to kill but I believe he is cleaning blood off his cutlass. Zippo sparing him therefore seems like a point of contrast, the Pirate is willing to even kill his own henchmen, but Zippo does not. You could explore a code of ethics here. And from a practical point of view, this theoretically means the Pirate could show up in future stories.

The story is jingoist, what with the focus on war plants and the USO thing at the end, but this story did come out in 1943. War industry is bad, but at least they are fighting the Nazis. (Though I cannot bring myself to read issue two yet because it’s the forties and while I do not know the plot, if Imperial Japan comes up in a story I expect to be horrified. Captain America comics in the forties were very racist. Zippo seems more based in the states than Cap so it might never come up, but spies and saboteurs are still a possibility, so my anxiety fears)

Other notes, his secretary barely appears but her last name is Smith, so if a writer uses him they could incorporate that name as a play on words. Like, maybe she helps him maintain or build his gear. (again, I have not read issue two yet, she might not stick around or their dynamic might differ. Though there is no reason a retelling would have to treat the original comics as a strict bible) Either way, she is in a position that could easily be a recurring role if not a major supporting character. Shame she is such a blank slate in issue one.

As for Joe’s profession, my gut shouts ACAB, especially his use of threatening violence to get enemies to confess. That said, he is approached by Anderson because he is not a part of the system and they don’t want to cause a panic, so there is potential there for him to be written as outside and contrasted against law enforcement. Is he subtler than the law? Is he less important in the eyes of the public so they would not care as much? Would any of that plus Zippo’s smashing success cause resentment among the cops? These ideas are clearly not in the text, but it could be explored by a modern writer. And I will admit, being a PI gives him a reason to be approached by civilians to help them with their troubles, as well as an excuse to investigate in his civies. Reporter is the classic occupation to justify superhero snooping, but this is not the worst job for a superhero to have. That’s billionaire.

Anyway, tagging @thefingerfuckingfemalefury @akirakan @espanolbot2 @filipfatalattractionrblog @nitpickrider @bear-of-mirrors @geekgirl101 @renaroo @docgold13 @paulsebert @majingojira @strixobscuro and any other comic fan who might be interested in reading a quick little comic about a public domain “speedster.”

[hauntingofhouses]

i think fandoms can be soooo ridiculous a lot of the time (see: all the nonsensical fan wars, discourse, etc) but i cannot understate how much i actually love fandoms.

like yeah it may be super nerdy and even cringe and outsiders look at it like "why tf do you care about these fictional characters so much?"

but 1) my field is literally..... literary studies..... in which all i do is study fiction and analyse it like an insane person, and 2) even if that WASN'T my field, thinking about the stories we consume is important even for any person to do, because thinking about stories exercises our brain to think critically!! why do you think our ancestors used stories as a medium to share knowledge, to propagate moral values and lessons? stories—telling them, thinking about what they're saying, and caring about the characters within them—are all inherent to the human experience!!!

so that brings me to fandom. because we are literally just making these little communities with each other based on our shared love for a particular story, and for a particular character or theme within them that resonated with us, or whatever. we're all here because we loved a thing so much that we built connections from it!!!

like yeah my irl friends laugh at me when i tell them i write fanfic, cuz ha ha what a nerd what a loser etc, but dude. i made genuine real friendships from fandom alone. from just obsessing over two characters we thought were cute together, we've gone to sending each other gifts and postcards and having voice calls and confiding in each other and sharing parts of us and our personal lives and our cultures (cuz we're all from different countries) with each other! like now i don't even share a fandom with most of my old fandom friends anymore but we still stick by each other and that's amazing???

also like, i cannot emphasise enough how amazing and encouraging it is to share your craft (art/writing/etc) with others in fandom. because for example if i make my own personal art or write my own original work, i'd have no one to share it to, no one interested to see it, and thus no one will be there to provide feedback or encouragement.

but if i post a piece of fan art or fanfic, people actually do see the work i post and care about the craft and the content it's depicting and even share their thoughts on it and that ??? is so motivating and lovely ??? because even though i make art for myself, art is still meant to be shared and seen at the end of the day—even if only with one person. so to be given the means of sharing our art in such a way, to have such a community that fosters so much creativity, it's amazing. i don't really get that anywhere else.

and especially to have this in like, a casual setting, you know, where you can just be yourself and do things according to your own time and energy without the pretenses of professionalism and a perfectly curated resume or portfolio, and all the confines of a rigid work schedule, which would all make the process of creation less fun and less genuine, and instead just more taxing and chore-like.

because fandom is essentially meant to be about doing what's fun for you! it's about sharing your creations and enjoying what others share with you. you make friends and you go ham with it.

and also it's why it's more frustrating when people take things too seriously and legitimately get upset over assumptions of other people's beliefs and hold the most minor grievances that could only be felt if you're like, chronically online.

but on that note, there are definitely still honest-to-god bad people in fandom spaces too (see: racists, TERFS, homophobes, groomers, harassers, etc). but that's the case with all communities, because bad people are always going to exist, and thus statistically speaking, the bigger a group or community is, higher chances are there's gonna be some awful people in there. but honestly that is its own can of worms and also that's not what this post is about, but i felt it necessary to address because i don't want to paint fandom as like, the best thing ever in the world, because fandom spaces are incredibly flawed, as everything is.

but i've always been one to appreciate things despite its flaws. and though this may be very personal to me, when i love things so much, i am still willing to stick around and try to change the culture around it in the ways that i can (like promoting internet safety measures, creating safe spaces for thoughtful and polite discussion, raising awareness on harmful stereotypes and fandom depictions or opinions, etc).

so regardless of the bullshit that online fandom spaces tend to perpetuate, i do very much still love the way that fandom allows me to connect with folks over something as silly as our little blorbos, and from there end up making life-long friends, or at the very least new acquaintances. insert reinforcement of my thesis statement about stories fostering human connection here. the end. send post.

[dreamnants-mis]

unnamed

A story about a nameless man who cannot die and a name that became his own. Spoilers for up to Chapter 124! Word Count: 2,252

This was the fic that originally sparked the analysis I did on Andy's name, but it wasn't completed and published until this year, as part of trying to distract myself until the 21st. Decided to post this fic on here too for the heck of it. You can find it on here too.

"What's your name?"

"Don't remember. Undead's good enough, right?" "Not at all! Guess I'll have to name you then!" ... He didn't have a name for the longest time.

Granted, he didn't have anything when he emerged from the shallow grave, aside from the clothes on his back and the lingering taste of dry dirt in his mouth.

He probably could have thought of one for himself to stick with, but for some reason, it never occurred to him that he could. Whenever he tried, something about whatever he came up with just didn't seem right. As if the lingering traces of the past were telling him that it wasn't his name, but nothing could quite feel like his name either.

Instead, he'd let the people around him refer to him by whatever they wanted. Josh, Sanders, and Red had called him Captain, as did Camus and Ash. Even as time went on, Camus and Ash never stopped calling him that and he never bothered to indicate anything to stop them otherwise. It'd simply felt too natural after knowing them for too long to change. He was still nameless otherwise though.

After both of them passed away, he went back to being a drifter with no attachments and no clear name or even a nickname to go by. Maybe another reason he didn't go by any definite name was because as he realized a decade or so afterwards, he would probably had to change it at some point to avoid drawing attention to himself as being undead.

At some point around the 1950s, he'd given up on trying to find his identity as perhaps anyone that knew him from the past was long gone. Hence why he was fine with being called Undead, even if it came with the stark reminder of what he was and the curse that came with it. Being named created attachments. Attachments, for someone who couldn't die, were simply painful. 

When he was captured by the Union in 1970 and spent the next decade in confinement and countless tests with death, Gina gave him the name "Deady Dearest". He didn't care too much for the name personally, but the gesture behind it was from a kinder place and made him not say anything when she did. It definitely felt less like a name more as a cheesy nickname, but it was a step more personal than being called Undead.

When it came clear to him that he truly couldn't die, he'd escaped and spent the next 50 years as he had in the years before wandering with the Union still trailing him without a clear purpose as a ghost.

He happened to remember how Josh had wanted to learn swordplay from Japan long ago after he'd taught her Japanese, leading to him becoming Yusai's student for a year to learn iajitsu.  Yusai had tried to propose to him after he'd mastered the last technique in late August, but he'd simply told him he'd only accept if she could outlive him and left knowing what he said was an impossible task.

A part of him couldn't bring himself to return to Japan for decades after that. He only returned over thirty years later to see Tokyo on a whim out of curiosity. Since Tokyo wasn't anywhere near where Yusai lived, he figured there were slim chances of running into her.

He hadn't thought visiting Japan would be any different than his usual country wanderings. He'd finally taken the plunge to try that boba thing that was apparently becoming popular in Asian countries, finding it far too sweet and the texture strange to wonder why people liked it so much. 

At least until he passed by Shinjuku Station and overheard some brat saying it was time to end herself and claiming anyone who touched her would contract a deadly disease and die. Certainly the most interesting suicide he'd seen in a while. And he'd seen many of them, more than one would ever want to count.

It was indeed the case since just seconds after touching her face, he'd fallen right onto an incoming train and left just a head. The rush knowing it was because of him touching her made him rush to confront her about her so called "Unluck".

She'd called him Zombie at first, something that he didn't care for anymore than Undead since zombies had to die first for the term to be accurate. Which he couldn't do in the first place. Still, that incident with the train only made him more curious about her and seeing if her Unluck could end his life.

The meteorite from her kiss on the cheek had sold him on the idea she was his key to permanent death.

In the aftermath, when she asked for his name, he'd just said she could call him Undead. Unlike the other times he'd been asked that however, she didn't accept that and decided to insist on giving him a name instead.

Andy, from "ahn-dead".

A bit on the nose. He frankly hated it just as much as being called Undead. But he'd just scoffed and accepted it as a price for the brat allowing him to be around her until she could bring him a fatal stroke of Unluck by falling in love with him.

It sounded simple enough, seeing as said brat was a pushover in love with shoujo manga.

Of course, in hindsight, it wasn't as simple as it seemed at the time.

Weirdly, in the span of a month, the name started to stick. Maybe it was how she'd often said in a way that felt natural, like it was his name, without a doubt. Maybe it was how others also started to refer to him as "Andy" instead of "Undead". At least he'd thought the name was better than his initial impressions.

The mess with him removing the card and letting Victor go had brought forth those questions about his identity he hadn't thought about in over a century and then uprooted them with a truth he wasn't mentally prepared for. 

Victor was probably the original him, but he also wasn't him. The name Victor felt wrong to him.

It wasn't a pleasant reality in the slightest on top of the fact he couldn't die. Weirdly, the only thing that kept him from completely receding into the depths of the mind as Victor resumed full control of the body was hearing Victor in his mind was planning to kill the brat for giving him false hope of death.

To his surprise, he started to resist, only barely delaying Victor from using a Parts Bullet to her head.

But what shocked him more was the brat kept calling for him to come back despite having Victor about to shoot her dead point blank that she still wanted to experience more of the world with him.

She knew better than anyone why he protected her in the first place was for his own reasons. He made that especially clear to her the day they met. Really, she should have just tried to run even if it were futile.

Yet she continued to catch him off guard with what she did next. She clung to Victor with the intent to bring him back to the surface. She even blew a hole in Victor's head with a high-caliber gun, stuck her own fingers in the bullet hole to bring him back to the surface, and allow him to kiss her to summon a meteorite shower that left Victor a charred husk.  Then she rushed into the crater to stab the card back in his head despite the water of Lake Honeycomb about to swallow everything up.

Fuuko that day proved to be far more than the brat he'd made her out to be initially. 

But perhaps what made it evident to him Andy was becoming his name the first time was when he needed to sign a name for the delivery service to the hotel in Brazil and without hesitation, he'd put the name "Andy" down. It was a small thing that he hadn't thought much about in the moment.

Yet later than evening when they were getting ready for the auction, the gesture of the action suddenly hit him, on top of Fuuko telling him she'd use her Unluck to save him from Victor as many times as needed earlier. He had acknowledged the name beyond something Fuuko called him and others just happened to use. 

Over the next three months leading up to December, more and more people called him Andy aside from Fuuko. But for some reason, he found how Fuuko called him Andy to be the most natural to him. He wasn't sure if it was something about how she pronounced Andy or something else he couldn't name.

To be honest, he'd been feeling more alive in the span of a few months than he had in his nearly two centuries worth of living ever since that August day he decided to intervene on a suicide attempt on a whim. Yet it wasn't until Fuuko made herself a hostage to Under how often he was around her and just how much her presence made him feel at ease. Hell, how reliant was he on her for his own mental well-being despite having called her a pushover so often?

His anxiety over not hearing from her didn't go unnoticed by the others. Said anxiety had quickly melted the moment he heard her call his name through Clothy being a Union emblem to the point it surprised even himself.

But somehow in the middle of that conversation, something just made him uneasy enough to grab at anything to divert attention away from Fuuko noticing how much her lack of presence around him threw him off. That something just so happened to be the mention of Yusai.

It really was a joke, seeing as it was more him rejecting her proposal. Of course, the communication cut off before he could clarify that being the case.

(He did deserve getting trampled by Tatiana and Mico for that ex-girlfriend comment and maybe also that callous rejection he gave Yusai decades ago.)

Hearing her voice was a relief, but only a temporary one when it became clear he wouldn't have a chance to retrieve her until December 24th.

He'd managed to put his efforts into training the Union, especially Top and Chikara, to battle Under to distract himself, but when the others were sleeping and he couldn't focus on redirecting that energy to mounting a group effort, he'd found himself still fretting. Fuuko would be fine physically since Unluck was so valuable and key to defeating Spring, but that did little to soothe the anxiety that formed the moment the portal Fuuko stepped through vanished.

When he'd said he'd loved her preparing a Parts Bullet to rescue her, it'd been something he'd expected Fuuko to not have noticed him saying, considering the thick glass between them. Maybe it was more trying to articulate what exactly she brought him. But Fuuko turning out to be more observant than he expected made him try to play it off as her getting prettier, which she knew he was lying about.

The Spring battle took up his energy and focus afterwards, but the aftermath was enough for him to accept Fuuko's inability to kill him wasn't from her lack of love but rather him not being able to fully return her feelings because he was scared of accepting them.

Especially when the splatter of her blood on his face as that bastard ran her through her heart brought the day he "died" for the first time in a flurry of bullets that killed Josh, Sanders, and Red back in full force on why he'd been afraid to care in the first place.

Because to love also meant the potential pain of loss as well.

Yet unlike back then, he wasn't alone. The Union and even Billy jumped into action to keep Fuuko in limbo, even if that rotten bastard had convinced Ghost to hold Fuuko's soul hostage. As long as Fuuko's soul was alive, he could still save her.

Though at the same time, it was also the Union that allowed for him to hope for the better against the coming apocalypse, sealed with Juiz skewering him with Kurikara through the chest as he drove away on DB yelling that they would wait for him to come back with Fuuko's soul with two open seats.

Odd how it was like the day he met Fuuko and he was chasing after her in hopes of tasting her biggest stroke of Unluck. He was chasing after Fuuko again, but this time, it wasn't about her Unluck more as it was also to reach and hold her again, the person that had become the beacon of his hope and Fuuko was waiting for him to catch her.

And damn, he planned to catch her.

...

"Who are you?" The little girl he rescued from a Junior asked him as he pried its jaw open to prepare for a Dead Road.

"You asked who I am? Right, let's see...I'm Undead," he'd answered at first on reflex. But unlike how it was when he'd told Fuuko to call him that since it was good enough, now it was Undead that felt odd and foreign to his ears. 

So after a moment to properly face the kid, Andy corrected himself.

"Nah, nix that. I'm Andy."

[crystalromana]

Apocryphia Bipedium- Ian Potter

[FIXED THE WONKY MOBILE EDITING. >.< IT LOOKED FINE ON DESKTOP]

[I am obsessed with this short trip so I had to bring it to Tumblr. Yes I did just copy and paste this page by page out of the pdf and formatted it. I think about it all the time. Anyway.

Apocrypha Bipedium takes place in the gap between Time of the Daleks and Neverland. Enjoy]

A Suggestive Correlation of The Cressida Manuscripts with other Anomalous Texts of the Pre-Animarian Era as proposed for Collective Consideration by Historiographic Speculator Anctloddoton.

In my selection and placement of the following extracts from the literature of the extinct worlds, I have attempted to draw suggestive parallels between some of the Problem Texts of the humanoid cultures. Obviously, the records of those times are now so fragmentary that any conclusions we draw from the surviving evidence must remain speculative. We cannot know what evidence we are missing, thus the linking of events posited by the presentation of these documents must remain a tentative hypothesis at best.

HS A From The Primary Cressida Document – Suppressed Texts of the Vatican Library, A Mysteria Press Original, 2973 CE.

The past is another country, the Doctor used to say. By which I suppose he meant it’s a nice place to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there, and you can have real problems with customs when you arrive.

I grew up in the future myself, which makes living in the past tricky at times. Liverpool was a great place to grow up if you were into the past though. It was full of it; the Campus Manor theme park, the castle, the Beatles Memorial Theatre, The Saint Francis of Fazakerley Museum, the Carl Jung Dream Tour, Post-Industrial Land and all those cathedrals, you were tripping over history everywhere. Mummy’s parents came from there too, so it was practically like we knew reallife olden days people.

It was much better than Liddell Towers where we lived in New London – most of the history near there seemed to be about some silly girl who’d let a professor of sums take photos of her and fell down a rabbit hole, or about those awful Daleks wiping out Southern England with mines and things. Much duller and hardly any variety in the rides at all.

Here in the actual olden days there’s not much past anywhere, just loads of future, and the rides are even less fun, all carts and donkeys and hardly any roads. We’re moving again, you see, dear diary. Even though the conquering Greeks don’t really seem to want to colonise any of Asia Minor themselves they don’t seem to want any Trojans settling back down anywhere round here either. They’ve occupied what’s left of the city, I suspect mainly so Menelaus can find all the expensive bits of Helen’s jewellery she seems to have mislaid, and seem keen we don’t hang about too nearby. Mymiddon Hoplites apologetically move us on now and again, clearly wondering when they can decently be allowed back home to start fighting amongst themselves again, and so we pack up and move. Some of their chaps are still feeling rather tetchy for no good reason apparently. Troilus says there’s a silly rumour going around that some terrible woman, probably a goddess, went around whipping up aggression amongst the Greeks a few years ago by magic, leaving marks on their necks that mean they can’t calm down!

It doesn’t make any sense to me. I think I might just be getting the cleaned up version of a soldier’s tale actually. I think that happens with me a lot. People treat me like a silly little girl sometimes, which isn’t really fair when I come from the future and know all sorts of things they don’t. I’m an adult now, even if not being born yet does make me about minus four thousand officially.

I don’t think Agamemnon’s Greeks really know what to do now to be honest, and after a decade’s anticipation I don’t think the trade routes or the princess they were sacking Troy to get are quite as good as they were hoping. I think they’re just hanging around stopping us settling down and looking for lost costume jewellery until they can think of something better to do. Some of the Ithacans are moaning it’ll be another decade before any of them get home at this rate. Bless them.

Running out of room, dear diary. Will write more when I have some new goats’ hides.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It! The True Confessions of a Ka Faraq Gatri not just written for the money when trapped on a primitive planet and needing cash to buy parts by ‘Snail’, Boxwood Books, 300 AGB.

Of course the hairy kangaroo had been at the mind rubbers and didn’t even realise the sword was there! How we laughed. Terrible namedropper, Zodin, but worth her weight in soufflé all the same

Naturally enough, mention of name-dropping reminds me of another anecdote, this one relating to dear old Bill Shakespeare, one of the finest writers and most atrocious spellers of any age. I’ve met him several times now and hope to again if I ever get off this pre-warp- engineering dustball. The last time was during that sticky business with poor Kitty Marlowe and those Psionovores from Neddy Kelley’s old scrying glass that I related in Chapter 9, but perhaps our most awkward misadventure together was the time I introduced him to some of his own characters, who included, as it happened, a dear, dear friend of mine.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress by Charlotte Elspeth Bollard, Library of Kar-Charrat. The work, having suffered some worm damage in the Great 2107 AD Cock Up, is presented here in the Elgin decorruption.

Travelling with Wilf and the Doctor was a curious experienced already felt somewhat out of sorts with time, having discovered my very existence was making history split in two, but sharing a home with a boy from the 16th Century and a man who seemed to come from nowhere so much as his own imagination, merely heightened my feeling that I no longer belonged to any era.

We three fellow time travellers had so very little in common beyond having all read the plays the boy had not yet written that the small talk had been small indeed, and, after a few days of the Doctor failing to get Wilf home, the atmosphere had become a little tense.

Wilf, it further transpired, had difficulty reading anything written in more modern Anglish than his own, which meant there had been little of a literary nature to distract him during his sojourn with us once he had read and re-read the Doctor’s picture books about Frinchs, Sneetches, Ooblecks and Cats in Hams.

Thankfully, towards the end of Wilf’s stay with us the Doctor had discovered a futuristic version of Lido called Peter Pan Pop-O-Matic Frustration that we could enjoy playing together and those last long hibiscus-scented afternoons in his music room passed pleasantly enough, without young Wilf having to constantly relate the escapades of besocked foxes to us.

The Doctor always won our games, usually coming from behind implausibly late in the day, and nearly always using some devious subterfuge to gain victory. Indeed, it was observing the childlike joy on the Doctor’s face at his underhand triumphs on the Peter Pan Pop-O-Matic Frustration board that I first realised just how much of Peter there was in his nature. Naturally, we loved him enough to pretend not to notice his cheating (I sometimes think the whole universe did) and at times towards the end we three had so much fun that I almost forgot I was a paradox, unpicking creation like Penelope at her tapestry in the heroic age we had just left.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur – works attributed to William Shakespeare collated by Heinrich Von Berlitz and Leopold Kettlecamp, Ampersand and Ampersand, 85 AH.

This passage from The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy – fragmentary foul papers of a naive work once attributed to the very young Shackspur, is worth quoting in full.

Act 2, Scene 1. A room within the box. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow and Young Will.

Doct. Here at last! Our journey finally through. In fifteen hundred and seventy two. Young Will, regard the ceiling viewing dome – Stratford on Avon, the Hathaway home.

Will. But sir, on those bare hills, no swarths do roll. And no houses nestle ’twixt those craggy knolls – The sun burns with a fierce un-English light And that beach there is not a Warwick sight! That’s not Stratford displayed above us

Char. – Lest the Avon’s turn’d to sea, ’Od love us!

Many scholars have disputed the authenticity of this piece of alleged Shackspurian juvenilia, pointing out, fairly, that it does appear to be the only one of his extant works that the Bard biroed in a twentieth-century school jotter otherwise festooned in swirly ink blots and doodled hexagons. However, if Shackspur did travel in Time, as several scholars suggest, this objection falls away. A more compelling argument for its inauthenticity is the verse style, experimenting uniquely within the Shackspurian canon with strict iambic pentameter composed entirely in rhyming couplets. Whilst dreadful, it is nothing like as appalling as that in Shackspur’s earliest known adult writing

***

From Tales from the Matrix – True Stories from TARDIS Logs Retold for Time Tots by Loom Auntie Flavia, Panopticon Press, 6833.8 Rassilon Era. Part of the Wigner Heisenberg Collection, The Mobile Library, Talking Books Section. Location currently uncertain.

The Doctor flicked the temporal stabiliser off and pulled down the transitional element control rod taking him out of the Vortex. Quite the wrong way to actualise and quadro-anchor even a Type 40 Time Capsule, isn’t it? Exiting the interstitial continuum at the perihelion of a temporal ellipse can cause serious buffering in your harmonic wave packet transference and sever your main fluid links, can’t it?

‘Here we are, Stratford on Avon, 1572!’ announced the Doctor proudly and wrongly. If he’d ever bothered to use his Absolute Tesseractulator to pinpoint his dimensional locations he wouldn’t have made these kind of mistakes, of course, but the Tesseractulator had never come out of its box, had it?

Charlotte Pollard, the Doctor’s friend, came over to him and flicked on the ceiling scanner.

A friend’s an Earth thing. It’s a bit like having a colleague or fellow student you co-operate with, but without any exams or project targets at the end to make the co-operation meaningful. There was a fashion for having them on Gallifrey at one time, ask some of your older cousins about it, they might remember.

Charlotte squinted at the view outside. It didn’t look like the Stratford she’d visited, with neither alien enslavers nor half timbered tea shops anywhere in sight. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

‘Positive. Ish,’ replied the Doctor. William Shaxsberd, a young man they’d promised to drop off in 1572, put down his coloured crayons and came to join them.

‘It does not look much as it once did, Doctor,’ said William, looking at the ceiling and cricking his neck.

The Doctor followed suit. The dustbowl outside was certainly not Warwickshire in any era he’d visited, ‘No. Indeed not,’ he admitted. ‘I think the rift in the Vortex is introducing a random element into my calculations.’

Do you remember the rift in the Vortex, from last time? That’s right, the Doctor made that too! It was due to the paradoxical interaction of two paravertical chronostreams further complicated by three retro- temporal augmented causal feedback loops, wasn’t it?

‘Another random element?’ asked Charlotte, ‘More random than the way you play “eeny meeny miney mo” with the buttons?’

‘Ha, Charley,’ said the Doctor. ‘Tres amusent.’

Charlotte turned to William to explain, ‘That’s French, Will, for “I’ve been banged to rights, Miss Pollard”,’ she said.

‘I somehow knew,’ William replied.

‘Really?’ asked Charlotte. ‘How?’

‘It’s a Time Lord gift, Charley,’ said the Doctor, ‘and yes it would be awfully de trop to ask how it works.’ Or at least that’s whatCharlotte thought he said. William heard something quite different of course.

Well, let’s get out there then,’ said the Doctor, opening the doorswithout taking any proper readings.

‘Er, why?’ asked Charlotte.

‘Because until we know how far out the rift has shunted us in spaceand time we won’t know how to get to Stratford, 15 diddlydiddly...’explained the Doctor, waving his hand vaguely as he searched hismemory for the end of the four digit number he’d lost interest in.

‘Seventy-two,’ prompted William.

‘The very same.’ The Doctor beamed, ruffling the young man’s hair in a way that, thanks to the TARDIS telepathic circuits alone, seemed endearing rather than insufferable and over familiar.

William and the Doctor headed for the doors. Charlotte was troubled though.

‘Won’t my temporal instability cause untold problems to wherever we are?’ she asked, quite sensibly, all things considered.

‘Oh, very probably, I expect,’ replied the Doctor airily, ‘but if you spent your whole life worrying about the consequences of your actions you’d never get anything done and the consequences of that would be unthinkable, wouldn’t they? Faint heart never bowled a maiden over,you know.’

Charlotte scowled. ‘Mind,’ added the Doctor as he stepped out of the control room, ‘neither did Katie “the Beast” Davies, if I remember my22nd-century Wisden correctly.’

That was an allusion to the Earth game Cricket, wasn’t it? It was the Earth’s planetary sport, despite the fact that humans were the worst players of it in the galaxy if you remember.‘

Doctor, I find your words confusing,’ said William as he followed him out.‘It’s a Time Lord gift, Will,’ Charlotte whispered. ’You’ll get used to it.’

* * *

From The Primary Cressida document

New hides! This keeping a journal business is awfully tricky when you’ve no paper around, but before mummy died, she did make me promise I’d write one when I eventually settled down. It’s a family tradition that’s been handed down for generations apparently, not that I ever saw mummy’s.

Anyhow, Troilus is still very eager to settle soon, but where? I’ve ruled out going east to the Holy Land because from what I remember from history and my travels we’ll get no peace there and the rest of the Med and Adriatic has already been bagsied. Troilus reckons Aeneas will have already have set up somewhere by now and we should have gone off on his boat when we had the chance. I just nod, and try to explain wave particle duality to the little ones.

I have a vague feeling I learned something about Aeneas from the UK-201’s didactomat box way back in the future. I think he ended up with Dido in Carthage for a bit, which confuses me because I thought Dido’s music was Late Classical, which must be after this period, surely. I’m sketchy on the details to be honest. I only remember it was Dido and not Sister Bliss because the planet we crashed into on the way to Astra was named after her.

Funny thinking about Dido, that was the place I’ve called home longest in recent years. I’ve been a nomad a while really – split between London and Liverpool as a girl, never knowing whether to talk posh and southern or not, emigrating to off-Earth with daddy, hopping about through Time with the Doctor, and now traipsing around Turkey with Troilus and his mates before its even called that or has any tourist facilities to speak of. I think I must have ‘space travel in my blood’ as one of those Baroque composers put it!

I’ve been wondering when I should discover electricity and plumbing a bit recently, these fleeces don’t clean themselves like proper clothes, so the sooner we can invent the twin tub the better. Are we before or after that Monk who invented things too early here, I wonder? I don’t want to mess things up like he did, but I’m shocking on dates. I just paid attention to the stories in the history books really, not the order they happened in. If I’d known the way round history went was going to be important I would have had the machine teach me it. Of course, as a child you never expect all that history around you is going to run away into the future like it has, do you? I’ve decided I’ll probably start with a steam engine and see if that messes up my memory of the future. The way I see it, it’ll be impossible for me to invent anything that’ll stop me being born so I can’t do too much harm.

I casually suggested making things out of iron the other day, which I know is a big step forward but everyone just laughed. Too brittle and hard to work compared to bronze or tin, they said. I suppose they’re right. You have to do something to it to make it strong, I remember that. I just don’t remember what that something is. For all I know my quad physics equations and could still compose a cogent analygraphfor the fall of the Mallatratt Protectorate, I’m a bit rusty on a few of the basics. Going to take us years to get garlic bread and sound radio at this rate.

Of course, I had a bit of training for life without the mod cons on Dido, so I can cope, but what makes things really fiddly at the moment is that my future’s past is catching up with my present, which is complicated enough to write down, let alone experience.

We’ve just bumped into the Doctor as a young man, and I’m sure it’s really bad form for me to let on I recognise him when as far as he’s concerned he’s not met me yet.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

My plan was pretty much the usual one, to go out and see if we could find out the year and our whereabouts in a way that wouldn’t arouse any suspicions, and then hang around until nightfall to get a better fix from the position of the stars. It may sound dull but I’ve found if I do that I usually find something or other to get embroiled in before sunset.

We stepped circumspectly out of the Ship and set off in search of the nearest habitation, ready as ever to improvise any number of cover stories to explain our presence and strange garb. As luck would have it we soon ran into one of the locals, and were able to subtly winkle out the info we needed on route to his encampment.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

People say you should never look back of course, advice we’ve been ignoring since Orpheus and EuroDisney, but I can’t help thinking that if the Doctor hadn’t landed us in the aftermath of the Trajan War a lot of that beastly business with the Time Lords might have been avoided later.

As usual the Doctor rejoiced in dropping straight into the middle of things without a moment’s forethought. Impossible, exasperating man,I tried to protest but somehow he just brushed my complaints away with a smiled shouldn’t have let him, but he did have such a lovely smile.

* * *

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 3, Scene 2. Another part of the hillside. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow and Young Will.

Doct. Yoohoo! Mister Goatboy, excuse me please, Could you tell me what time and place is this? Char. Discreet as ever.

Enter a Goatherd.

Doct. Yes, but awfully brave. Young man, there is information we crave. What land is this and what year are we in? We’ve lost track of both in our travelling.

Char. Oh I give up, you’re so inconsistent.

Doct. Just smile prettily, act like an assistant.

Char. But I never know what trick you’ll pull next!

Doct. Just grit your teeth, smile and stick out your chest; Magic’s best tricks work by misdirection.

Char. So I’m just here to stir his –

Will. Affection?

Doct. Quite so Will, a pretty face inspires trust. True, I’m afraid, if not awfully just. This chap will tell us the time and the place And Presto well head straight back into Space!

Goat. Eleven eight three BC is the year This is Hisarlik in Anatolia. I expect you’re traders from Phoenicia To be garbed and garbling here so queer. You’ve been ship wreck’d and concuss’d I’ll be bound. Which’ll be why you have no goods around. We must offer you shelter at the least Pop back home with me and well have a feast.

Char. How can he know he lives before Our Lord?

Doct. It’s just a translation device that’s flaw’d. It’s an awfully clever mechanism But it causes the odd anachronism. Kind goatherd, we would love to share a meal And watch the evening stars above us wheel. For by such means we will precisely know Our station now and where we next must go. Exeunt Omnes.

From Tales from the Matrix

‘Do we really need to do this?’ asked Charlotte as the band trudged wearily after the herdsman in their impractical shoes, ‘Surely the date and location he’s given you is enough?’

‘Perhaps,’ the Doctor replied, ‘but studying the stars will allow me to be more accurate. Besides, I’m famished. We haven’t eaten for minus three thousand years, bear in mind.’

So the Doctor and his companions blithely headed off into further temporal confusion, unaware that the goatherd had seen the TARDIS arrive and knew full well who the Doctor was already.

There’s a lesson there for anyone who thinks it’s clever to keep their TARDIS in one form, don’t you think? The Ionic Column factory preset might look nice, for example, but when using it means every Grun, Za and Caius in the Cosmos knows who you are immediately, it rather defeats the point of a chameleon circuit.

From The Primary Cressida document

One of our herdsmen saw the TARDIS arrive in the next valley this afternoon and instantly recognised it as the mobile temple that had prefigured the city’s fall, and the Doctor as a younger version of the old man from my tales.

He sent his mate back to tell us so we all had time to prepare ourselves and could all pretend we believed the Doctor’s implausible story about being a trader from Phoenicia when he turned up an hour or so later.

It’s definitely him, probably about 40 years before we met. He dresses similarly, his hair is curlier and darker and his face looks a bit different, but the years are never kind, are they? Amazingly, he’s almost as vague as a young man as he was when old, if not quite so ummy and erry. I’d always assumed that was because he was getting on a bit.

Thankfully, no one here’s too thrown by the idea of time travellers after me relating all my adventures to them, though one of the boys did ask me why the Doctor didn’t walk and talk backwards when his past was in the future. I was very clear why not when I started explaining it, but I must admit I got a bit confused as I went along. He hasn’t recognised me of course, dear diary, and we’ve invited him and his friends to have tea tonight.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

Well, imagine my embarrassment when we arrived at the fellow’s encampment and who was in charge but my old friend Vicki (now calling herself Cressida of course) and her new husband Troilus, who I’d never actually met, due to quite heavy escaping commitments around the time they got together.

I realised with a start that young Bill Shakespeare was due to write a play about this couple in a few years, and that unless I was careful thismeeting would almost certainly be what inspired it, thus complicating Bill’s already tortuous history further and bringing yet another new paradox to mine. I’d only let Vicki go away with Troilus at Troy’s fall because once I heard she was calling herself Cressida I’d assumed it was predestined (well, I was young, I believed in that kind of thing), I knew there was a play about the couple by Shakespeare and thought I was helping history take its course by hitching them up. Now, if I’d only done that because my future actions would one day bring that play about, I’d accidentally made a big chunk of my past dependent on my future, which, as you know, isn’t really the accepted way of going about things.

I reasoned it was vital for the tidiness of the time line that I kept Bill from learning the background of Troilus and Cressida in any detail, ideally forgetting as much of their present as he could too.

To complicate matters further, Vicki had actually seen Bill as an adult on my time telly, the Time Space Visualiser. She was never the most historically careful of girls, and I feared that if she found out who he was, she’d probably tell him all about his future at the court of Elizabeth and getting the commission to write The Merry Wives of Windsor and the inspiration for Hamlet on the same day and how he’d sprained his wrist in his rush to write both.

All it might take, I thought, would be one slip from any one of us, accidentally mentioning the words TARDIS or Zeus Plug over dessert, say, and causality would be tangled up like President Pandak’s kittens in twine, quicker than you could explain what you pop in a Ganymede socket.

Luckily, it seemed Vicki hadn’t spotted how anachronistic our garb was and hadn’t realised I was her old friend, seeming to completely swallow my inventive tales of sea faring, despite Charley’s rather fanciful insertions about hook-handed pirates.

I had, of course, underestimated her, as a quick and entirely accidental glance at her diary before dinner proved. Not knowing I could regenerate, she had taken me for my young self in my first form and thought she was protecting me from foreknowledge!

This, of course, suited my purpose. All I reckoned I had to do now to save Time from chewing itself to bits was keep Will busy and make sure Vicki didn’t relate her history to any of us over dinner.

Oh what tangled webs we weave, when tidy temporal strands we try to leave.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

Mr and Mrs Troilus seemed a sweet couple, he a lanky chap with a curly beard and a well-meaning expression and she a rather enthusiastic young thing with big eyes, yet the Doctor had become rather shifty from the moment we met them. I knew he was preoccupied by something, but I had, at that time, no idea what. After some fun, improvising tales of derring-do on the high seas to prove our credentials as traders, he took me to one side and explained that I had to get Wilf as squiffy as possible at the feast that night for reasons it was simpler at that moment not to explain. He said history depended on me getting the boy so drunk he could neither speak nor remember his behaviour the next morning. I’m normally quite good at that kind of thing, it was hardly my fault the Bawd was a functioning alcoholic at the age of eight.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 4, Scene 1. An encampment in the mountains. Enter Mistress Charley, Doctor Shallow, Young Will, a goatherd, Troilus, Cressida, divers villagers and guards severally.

Doct. Hello. (Aside) Her! ’Tis Vicki, I should have guess’d. I never with good geography was bless’d Hisarlik is the modern name for Troy. Quite a temporal tangle, boy oh boy! (To Cress.) Ha ha, my hearties! We here are sailors three. (Aside) I can but hope she does not see ‘tis me.

Cress. (Aside) Deceit upon deception! Can this be The Doctor who I first took it to be? Is this him when young as I assumed? Or must deeper deceit be presumed? I’ll play along until the truth I know. (To Doct.) Good mariners, welcome and hello.

Will. (To Char.) What’s this strange accented charade about?

Char. (To Will) Who knows, we’ll be, I bet, last to find out.

From Tales from the Matrix

Yes Time Tots, exactly! The first thing any of us would have done would have been to get out of there quickly before we compromised the causal nexus. Staying for tea and imbibing too much ethanol, which you’ll recall the Doctor had a particular weakness for on his mother’s side, doesn’t strike any of us as sensible!

From The Secondary Cressida document (a transcribed fragment allegedly found at a Church of Rome jumble sale) – Even More Suppressed Texts of the Vatican Library, A Hatper-Mysteria- Ellerycorp Press Original, 2977 CE

My ruse worked, the robot’s read my carefully exposed diary and thinks I suspect nothing! He’s so obviously not really the Doctor it’s not true, but he doesn’t know I know that yet, so we have the advantage. He’s definitely a Dalek robot double like that other one they sent after us.

They’ve probably made him the young Doctor this time to make it less obvious. He does look a bit like he could be him sometimes if you’re not paying attention, but if you look closely his face is all wrong and his voice goes a bit funny sometimes like that other robot’s did, almost doing my accent at times! I think he’s probably feeding on my jumbled memories or something.

We’ll overpower him and his companions at dinner tonight and destroy them, they won’t expect me to know how to deactivate them.

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

I’ve always been keen on wine, particularly the heavier oaky reds, though I find there is a rather tiresome tendency for them to be drugged by villainous blackguards sometimes, rather impairing the subtleties of the flavour, but wine in the Homeric era was quite a different proposition. What can I tell you about it except that it tasted awful but did the job?

It wasn’t the heavily resinated stuff the Greeks later went in for, thankfully, nor indeed that watered-down muck the ancient Romans used to dish out at parties, but I think it’s telling that the most flattering thing Homer had to say about it in the whole of The Iliad was how like the sea it was in hue. When you bear in mind he was blind, you can tell he’d had to ask around a bit to find anyone with something positive to say about it.

The food wasn’t much better either. It can be terribly hard eating out when you travel like I do. These days at home, I generally try to eat only things that don’t have a central nervous system, or that I’ve knocked up in the food machine, but sometimes, when you’re a guest, qualms like that have to go out of the window, particularly on worlds ruled by intelligent plants, where you’re best advised not to ask for a celery stick and to just stick your toes in damp soil like everyone else at the table.

Even then I try to stick to my principles and not eat anything with a sense of self, parliamentary democracy or sultanas in it.

This dinner was a particularly awkward affair; Charley acting like a slightly sloshed pirate queen, Vicki acting like she didn’t know me, Bill acting up, singing lewd madrigals that officially weren’t due for invention yet in his rather reedy girlish voice, and all the while me worrying about causality falling apart around me rather too much to fully enjoy the dolmades.

Suddenly, half way through the proceedings, the impossible happened: it took a turn for the worse. Vicki shouted out ‘Now!’, and lunged at my chest and started tearing at my waistcoat.

From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

My recollections of the ensuing events are somewhat hazy; I had been struggling to match young Wilt measure for measure, you might say, when I saw the Doctor being attacked. I launched myself at his assailant and missed, I’m told, briefly losing my dignity and consciousness in the process.

A shocking melee ensued by all accounts, with Trajans tearing at our clothes with cutlery and all the usual business with tables being turned and the like breaking out; I’m only glad I can’t remember the full details, because what little I do makes me blush quite enough.

It’s quite possible I told someone I loved them, and was sick later too. I’ve never been brave enough to ask. The next thing I remember clearly was being in the main tent with the Doctor explaining a lot and me apologising a bit, just in case.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Troy

Act 5, Scene 2. At dinner beneath the stars.

Cress. Take that, false Doctor! But where are your wires? In sparks and puffs of smoke you should expire. Could it be that you are the Doctor true?

Char. Get your claws off him, he’s mine, you wild shrew!

Will. Oh, Pillicock sat on pillicock

Char. Will you stop that terrible singing, Will? The Doctor and I are under attack From this Troyan host, while you’re supping sack. Join in the scrap and cease your carousel Lewd songs, anyhow, douse all arousal.

Doct. Vicki, Will, Charley, all, put down those knives! You’re all making the mistakes of your lives.

Cress. Vicki, you say? You should not know that yet. If you’re the young Doctor, we’ve not yet met.

Doct. Vicki, the reason that I know your name Is that inwardly I am still the same Man who left you at Troy some years ago, I can change my looks, if you didn’t know. Char. Doctor, do you mean that you know this wench?

Doct. We travelled together many years hence. I think it’s time I explain’d the full truth Of why I’ve deceived you all, forsooth.

Will. If she’s an old friend then tell me why You did keep that fact from Charley and I?

Doct. This is an old friend, Will, but, what is worse, She features, in decasyllabic verse, In a drama that you shall one day pen That means I shall leave her with this Troyan, If you only write it because you’re here Chronological conundra appear. Effects and causes whirl and spin about, Go through the wringer and turn inside out. The egg that hatches out your chicken Does in that self same chicken thicken.

From Tales from the Matrix

Then in direct contravention of fifteen universal laws of Time and two local statutes, the Doctor sat down and explained everything that had happened, and, in explaining it, he brought all the things he was worried about happening that hadn’t into the open, didn’t he?

Of course, it turned out that some of the things he was worried about were of no concern at all, but as a result of relating them he brought worse problems about.

I expect most of you have read stories about the Doctor in other books, and I expect some of you think he’s quite clever, even though he breaks a lot of rules, don’t you? Well, you’re right! In a crisis, he’s just the kind of person you need around, he can come up with ideas almost no one else could. The only problem is, when you’re not having a crisis, he’s just the kind of person to cause one.

From The Primary Cressida document

How embarrassing. It turns out the Doctor was the Doctor after all, only older and with a new face for some strange reason. The girl who drinks too much is his latest companion and the little boy with the dirty songs and the voice like a girl is William Shakespeare! Nice enough lad, no wonder he ends up in the theatre with that voice though, perfect for all those drag roles they gave boys. We had a lovely chat about Dido and Aeneas and told each other about our scrapes with the Daleks, and I let slip the odd thing I knew about his future.

He’s told me we should go and settle in England. Apparently there’s an old book he’s read by a chap called Geoffrey that says relatives of Aeneas were the first Britons I think it’s a super idea, ’ I know Troilus will like it in England, and I think we’ve persuaded the Doctor too! Just think! could be one of my own ancestors passing on my secret diaries for years and years, a bit like mummy’s family did! How smashing would that be?

From Not Necessarily the Way I Do It!

Of course I decided in the end that honesty would be the best policy and that as long as everyone knew the full facts, and swore not to be influenced by them, we could probably darn the hole in causality in such a way that it wouldn’t show. I sat everyone down in the central tent and explained. Well, what a Charlie I looked!

*** From The Dairy of an Edwardian Adventuress

Ridiculously, the Doctor had been worried about Wilf getting inspiration for the play Troilus and Cressida from meeting the real Troilus and Cressida! I protested that Wilf had already read his own plays in the future anyhow, but the Doctor countered that they’d have been corrupted playing texts and in a court of law it would be hard to prove that was down to him, whereas if Will had got any of the plot or characterisation directly through his adventures with us that was a bit more serious.

That was when Will started laughing.

From The Pseudo-Shackspur

The Noble Troyan Woman of Tray Act 5, Scene 4. A tent in the camp.

Will. But Doctor, I did not invent the tale Of Troilus and Cressida’s love that fail’d. Why, Geoffrey Chaucer told it years ago! I cannot believe that you did not know. Have you read even half of what you claim Or do you just like dropping well-known names? Cressida’s tale is part of tradition Not the result of my precognition Of future perfect past present events, If you will forgive me my mangled tense, And my quondumque futures version Should have put you off this girl’s desertion.

Char. You should have read your Brodie’s Notes on Will. The phantom threat you feared from his quill Was nothing but an insubstantial shade, And there’s a real spectre here I’m afraid. I’m half a ghost of Christmas yet to come, Remember, I’ve made history come undone. You’ve got paradoxes enough to be Getting on with, as far as I can see, So why do you search for new ones instead That only exist inside of your head?

Doct. If I had known the work of me laddo Would I have found menace in my shadow? I here resolve to watch much less TV And be the reader I do claim to be. For half my erudite orations Come straight from books of quotations.

From Tales from the Matrix

‘What was Helen of Troy actually like then?’ asked William Shaxberd as he helped himself to more wine.

‘Is,’ corrected the Doctor, prissily.

‘She’s a good egg by all accounts,’ said Vicki, politely not mentioning the fact she thought her looks had gone, ‘and Menelaus was happy enough to have her back, even after all the bother, so she must be quite nice when you get to know her, I suppose.’

‘Well, she would have to be a good egg really,’ said William, ‘Her father was a swan supposedly.’ Like most young human men of his generation, he knew the salacious bits of Greek Mythology surprisingly well.

‘Half human on his mother’s side?’ smiled the Doctor, thinking himself clever. ‘Aren’t we all?’

‘No, just men,’ said Charlotte through a falafel.

‘She has two birthdays they say, one when the egg came out of her mother and another when it hatched,’ Troilus revealed, leaning forward over the table and whispering in that conspiratorial manner people sometimes do when divulging well known but dubious trivia.

‘It would have been an easy birth if she was born an egg,’ said Vicki ruefully, one hand on her stomach.

‘An easy lay, you mean,’ William corrected.

‘So Paris said –’Troilus began, his eyes a twinkle.

He was shouted down by his wife seconds later, barrack room tale untold, and one of those awkward silences ensued that dinner party guests in all cultures and times know only too well.

‘Have you actually read Troilus and Cressida, Doctor?’ asked Charlotte a little later.

‘You ask me, who had a hand in some of Shakespeare’s finest work – who put the mixed metaphor in the “To be or not to be” soliloquy, who hired the bear for The Winter’s Tale, and who really shouldn’t have passed on the story of A Midsummer’s Night Dream, if I’ve read Troilus and Cressida?’ replied the Doctor, rather over-egging it in that way he usually did when he was on the defensive.

‘Yes!’ they cried as one.

‘Well, no,’ admitted the Doctor. ‘It’s supposed to be one of the better ones, and well, you know, I’ve been busy. I’ve still not managed to tune the Time Space Visualiser in to catch all of The Golden Girls and I’ve been trying for decades.’

‘She doesn’t end up with Troilus in it, she ends up with Diomede, andit’s set during the war not after it!’ said Charlotte patiently.

‘Diomede! That was Steven!’ Vicki laughed.The Doctor looked confused. ‘Vicki and Steven were just friends,weren’t you? Just the odd haircut and getting locked up together, Ithought.’

‘Yes, that’s right, how many times do we have to go through that?’Vicki explained, giving a petulant Troilus a peck on the cheek.

‘Well the legend must have got a bit confused by the time it gotwritten down I think Chaucer got it from a foreign book,’ said William,draining his goblet.

The Doctor beamed, thinking he’d got away with his tinkering again.‘So Troilus and Cressida weren’t predestined after all!’ he said

‘Well, only because of your lack of reading,’ snorted Charlotte.

‘Oh that is a relief,’ said the Doctor taking the wine jug from William and helping himself without asking.

‘Now what about this business of giving us charts to help us reach this Britain young Will spoke of?’ asked Troilus, passing the Doctor a goat’s cheese nibble.

‘I really shouldn’t,’ explained the Doctor. ‘If you go there, on the basis of the frankly dubious history of Geoffrey of Monmouth then Vicki is in danger of becoming one of her own descendants, which is at least as badas the things I’ve been trying to prevent all day.’

‘Oh go on Doctor, please!’ begged Vicki. ‘We could mine tin in Cornwall and I’d promise not to invent anything I shouldn’t as long as I lived, not even roller skates!’

‘I don’t think I should. I’ve made enough of a mess looking after young Charley here, the repercussions of me sending you to Britain because the unborn Shakespeare suggested it could be horrendous,’ said the Doctor, finally being responsible for once in his lives.

‘Oh go on Doctor, I’m unborn too, remember, so that shouldn’t matte rmuch,’ said Vicki.

‘And I’m only half here,’ said Charlotte grimly ‘Why stop messing about now? You should have stayed at home watching these Golden Girls of yours if you weren’t prepared to get involved in real people’s lives. They’re messy and not always in the order you’d like and sometimes too short, and they’re not always better for having you in them, but you either face that or hide away somewhere, don’t you?

’The Doctor kissed her.

‘What was that for?’ asked Charlotte.

‘To shut you up,’ he said. He tapped Vicki on the nose and smiled,’Come on, let’s carry on the party, and in the morning, when rosy-fingered Dawn has done her bit, we’ll sort out a good map of Europe for the Trojans and get them started on their boats. Any consequences which haven’t happened yet we can worry about later!’

Some of you will be shocked at just how naughty the Doctor was in this story: jeopardising the stability of all those will-have-might-have-been futures out there depending on him by interweaving all those strands of destiny connected to the Dalek race and all on the basis of a whim.

The Doctor already knew Dalek causality was partially snagged in a loop in Time and his friend was the focus of a temporal anomaly, but of course he had spent a jolly long time in the Vortex, hadn’t he? That meant his causal connections to events future, past and maybe- somehow were a great deal more jumbled up than most people’s and he was quite good at judging just how likely to snaggle the Web of Time his whims might be.

Or so he thought.

The Doctor believed in two very wrong things you see; firstly, in something he called personal morality that he thought was more important than doing the things simply everyone knows are right, and secondly, that he was cleverer than everyone else and could always sort things out.

He deserved what happened to him next, didn’t he?

Document from the Braxiatel Collection Shakespearean Ephemera wing, a note found in the effects of William Shakespeare by literary assessor Porlock. It is not believed to be in Shakespeare’s hand though it bears some graphological similarities to the disputed Scarlioni Hamlet manuscript.

List of things not to mention

The Daleks,

That you’ve met me before when we meet next (because you didn’t mention it last time, you know),

That you’ve read half your plays already

That I wrote all the good bits in Hamlet, [‘good bits’ later amended to ‘rubbish bits’ in a different hand]

The idea of cigars (until Raleigh gets back from abroad),

That cigars will end up named after some of your characters,

That someone called Raleigh will go abroad,

That Troilus and Cressida had a lovely marriage and lived happily ever after in Mousehole, no matter how the story goes in Chaucer,

Oh, the places you’ve gone and the things that you’ve seen

[whereismymindnow]

Twin Hearts Chapter Nine

Author's Note: A little delayed but here is 3.7k words for you. I'm not a fan of how it flows, but I cannot bring myself to alter it again. I always had the plan of 10ish chapters for this part of their story so the end is near! <3

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Twin!Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+ due to mature, darker themes. Twincest. Smut. Strong language. Death. Miscarriage. Murder. Vampire/Hybrid violence. Please read responsibly.

If this work is found anywhere other than Tumblr (@whereismymindnow) or Archive of Our Own (Mikki19) then it has been posted without my permission.

Twin Hearts Masterlist

---

Chapter Nine: I'm Yours

“Just one more thing, I promise.” Pia sat back on his lap and watched as Klaus carefully removed a small velvet pouch from his pocket. Some of the edges had frayed due to its age but it was mostly intact. Pia’s breath hitched as she recognised the familiar red fabric. “Even though you no longer wished to wear it, I still kept it safe in hope that one day you would honour me and treasure this again.” It had been sometime after Katerina’s escape that Pia had thrown the ring away in anger. After their time in England as husband and wife had ended, she had kept it on the piece of string that her half-moon had been on and had made sure to keep it on her person at all times; whether it be around her neck when they travelled or fastened within her dresses when in public. Pia had never wished to part from it until the stress of her brother’s cold nature had become too much. She had thrown the ring into a pond that was on the grounds of their house and then stormed off back inside.

“How?”

“I compelled a few of the houseboys to swim and find it for me. I believe it took them all afternoon. I know that I prioritised my need for revenge over you, but when you threw this away it was like a punch to the stomach. I felt sick at the sight of the ring sinking down to the murky depths of the pond.” He slowly plucked the gold ring from its confines and held it in his palm. “I would like it very much if you would keep this again… perhaps even wear it.” His eyes bore into hers with such intensity that Pia shuffled in place and bit her lip.

“I- I would love to wear it again.” Nik gently slid the ring onto her finger and brought her hand up to his mouth; he pressed a slow kiss against the emerald stone and smiled. Pia watched transfixed as he entwined their hands and held them to his chest.

“I love you, my beautiful wolf. I always will.”

---

For a time Kol had been jealous of the connection between Pia and Niklaus. He had noted how his brother hadn’t truly cherished Pia when Tatia had been around and yet his best friend found her loyalty unwavering. She had simply waited for Nik to realise his mistake; her love ever growing for the boy she had grown up with. Kol didn’t understand it but carried on trying to protect her even more when their brother decided to act like a fool.

So, it was with these thoughts of the past that he currently stood at the bottom of the stairs glaring at the couple.

She loved him more than anyone else in the family ever had. He had never felt truly appreciated and adored until Pia’s eyes had been upon him. He still felt that familiar, although now unwelcome and annoying, warmth whenever she would smile at him or drag him to stand beside the others in solidarity. Kol had wondered whether she was a succubus rather than a werewolf-vampire hybrid due to how he always felt swayed to do what she wanted whenever she asked. Damn that girl.

“Brother, do not cause trouble.”

“I do not know what you mean, Elijah.”

“Do not act dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” The eldest Mikaelson stood beside his brother and watched him closely. Kol’s shoulders were tense and his hands were clenched into fists. “I know it is hard for any of us to trust Niklaus, but he is trying his best.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know you cherish her above all others. Pia has always been your guiding light throughout the centuries; anchoring you to the little humanity you still possess.” Elijah knew his brother would hear nothing more on the matter and so paused in front of him to look into his eyes. “You need to let them try to heal.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Elijah.” Kol’s eyes glistened with mischief and he smirked at his brother’s concerned expression. “What I need is a drink.” And, in a blur of motion, Kol vamped out of the manor to find his first meal of the day.

Great, that was just… great. Elijah sighed and followed his tearaway brother. The twins, especially Pia in particular, didn’t need to hear about this. He just hoped that he could talk some sense into his brother before he did something stupid.

The hybrid siblings sighed in unison. Pia felt perfectly at peace; Klaus was lying on the sofa with his mate straddling his waist, her legs on either side of his hips and her head upon his chest. Pia breathed in his scent and smiled happily to herself as she subconsciously nuzzled her nose against him. Klaus’ eyes were closed and for the first time in centuries his face was completely relaxed. His fingers lazily danced through her curls, causing the ringlets to straighten and then bounce back into shape.

Their wolves pressed close to their skin, their chests letting out quiet rumbles as they growled to each other. They could feel each other and communicated through the mate bond. Pia rubbed the side of her face against the centre of Klaus’ chest and was rewarded with his arms pulling her up his front so that their noses touched.

Klaus gave a simple smile as he beheld the blue pools that looked down at him. Pia’s eyes had always amazed him, and ever since unlocking their wolves, he had noticed them change a little. Her blue eyes had once mirrored his, but now he saw amber flecks that were close to the pupil; her wolf ever-present even when she was in human form. He found that he liked that. It suited her. The warm glow clashing with the cool blue made her look almost hypnotising. His mate was truly enthralling.

“What are you thinking of?” Pia’s soft voice broke his concentration and he found his heart pounding as he saw the beautiful smile on her face. She had raised herself up, her hands pressed into the cushion of the settee so that she could look down upon him; her blonde curls fell around her face and tickled his cheeks. Klaus traced his hands over her hips, up her chest and back to her hair. He seemed to like touching her ringlets today, Pia noted mentally as he brought her face down to his using his hands that were wrapped in her locks to take control.

“You two are completely sickening to watch.” Rebekah’s voice broke through their tranquillity. Pia buried her head into Klaus’ neck as she grinned. Whilst the girls were thoroughly amused, Klaus was not and he sighed heavily.

“Then avert your eyes and stop looking at us.” Klaus honestly didn’t know why they were being treated like fish in a tank, he had felt Kol’s burning gaze into the side of his face earlier even if Pia had not. He was sure that Elijah had appeared as well but he hadn’t bothered listening to them as his ears only caught the sound of his sister’s steady, comforting heartbeat. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

“Just do me a favour: don’t ruin the couch.” Rebekah huffed, despite smiling at the pair, and sauntered out of the manor to leave them in peace. Elijah’s text message had made it very clear that Kol was once again causing trouble. Rebekah really wasn’t surprised anymore.

“Our siblings are incredibly difficult to manage at times like this.”

“Do not forget that they brought us back together… as they always seem to.”

Klaus rose up to take her lips in a slow kiss that left her reeling. Her head was buzzing as he released her mouth, a sigh leaving her as her lips were left tingling from his affection. “I do not want to talk about them.”

“No?”

“No…” He whispered back to her and sat up properly so he could nip at her lips. His hands trailed up her spine as Pia let him do as he pleased. His tongue ran down her jaw to her jugular. She heard a hiss as his fangs released and Pia willingly cocked her head to the side. Her twin took her offering gladly and his teeth pierced into her skin. It wasn’t the same as feeding from a human, but it felt completely erotic and fulfilling to drink from his mate. His wolf howled in his head as he rocked his hips against hers in a steady rhythm. His body hummed with anticipation as his mouth filled with her blood. Pia pushed him back harshly when she felt him not slowing down and she glared down into his amber eyes.

“You’re mine, Niklaus.”

“I am yours.” Their lips met in a messy kiss, Pia tasted her own blood and growled in response. Red stained their mouths and dripped down their chins as Pia bit into Klaus’ plush bottom lip to feed from him too. “I want you, Pia…” Klaus was breathless as he pulled away and stared at his twin breathless.

“I know, Niko…”

“Let me have you. Let me show you how much I love you. I want to possess you completely. I must feel you.” Pia carefully rose up from the couch and motioned for Klaus to stay. She unbuttoned the front of her dress and let it fall to her ankles. Pia turned slowly and stood in front of the fireplace, she kept her back to her twin and popped the clasp of her bra. The white garment fell to the floor and was soon met with matching lacy briefs. She swallowed down her nerves and turned her head over her shoulder to catch her brother’s eye.

“You may feel me, but I need time before I can let you have me completely.” Klaus understood that she was still frightened because of the recent events and nodded but remained where he was on the sofa. His eyes scanned her body and found it to be just as perfect as he had remembered. Pia silently lowered herself to her knees on the soft rug in front of the mantel and stretched out on her side, her eyes still focused upon the flames. The orange fire seemed to light up her pale skin and Klaus took her silence as an invitation to finally approach.

Pia found herself tensing as she propped her head up with her left hand and allowed her right arm to lie down the side of her body. Klaus knelt down behind her and let his fingers ghost up from her ankle to her where her arm rested on her hip. He tickled her fingers lightly and then carried on his journey to her neck; his hand cupped her chin and he brought her head back to capture her lips with his own. Klaus left three soft kisses on her lips which made her eyes water from the adoration that she felt pouring off him in waves; Klaus pulled away and removed his shirt, throwing it over his shoulder carelessly. He gently took hold of her hips and rolled onto his back so that she was sitting above him once again.

“I’m yours to explore.” Nik whispered up at his sister as she examined his bare chest. Pia bent her head down and kissed each bird that was tattooed into his skin before tracing her tongue over the feather that was on his shoulder. A smile graced her face as she remembered sketching the ‘birds of a feather’ image whilst they were travelling through England one year.

“Tell me you are mine.” Pia whispered against his skin softly.

“I am yours.”

“Again.” She moved her head up so that she could feel his lips brush against hers when he spoke those three words that sent chills down her spine.

“Again.”

---

Pia found her little brother in his room. He was lying on his bed with his ankles crossed over; the sound of clicking echoed around the room as he furiously typed on his mobile phone. She stood there silently and watched him carefully, whilst he had not acknowledged her presence, Pia knew that Kol knew she was there. His brow creased and he snickered a little; he glanced over at her quickly but whatever was on his phone was obviously more important.

“Are 21st Century girls all so clingy? When I swapped numbers with Kirsty I never said that I would contact her.”

“Perhaps you should stop leading them on and prostituting yourself, Kol…” He immediately dropped his phone to the floor and looked at her open-mouthed. His dark eyebrows rose up and he folded his arms as though he was offended.

“Prostituting myself?! What do you take me for, Pea?”

A common whore, Pia mentally commented.

“Do you truly want me to answer that?” Pia laughed and shut the door behind her. She carefully climbed onto his bed and rested back on to the plush silk pillows. The pain in her stomach had created a dull throbbing sensation all morning and she gently pressed down on her abdomen to try and ease the tension that was bubbling in there. Thankfully Kol was still too busy muttering to himself about her words to notice how she held herself a little less gracefully than usual. “So what is this Kirsty like?” Kol stayed silent for another moment before turning over onto his side. His brown eyes looked down at her, still holding a little bit of false contempt towards her prostitution comment.

“Brunette - at least, I think she was the one that had brown hair - green eyed and a butterfly tattoo on her right hip.” Kol seemed to pause for a second before smirking. “She also made the strangest little sounds as I bit her thigh and drank from her.”

“…and her personality?” Pia looked up at Kol expectantly and began to shake her head when he shrugged his shoulders. “See? Prostituting yourself!”

“I just wanted to taste all of the new delights of the 21st Century. I do enjoy the new fashions that women wear.”

“I bet you do.” Pia chuckled lightly as she thought of the short dresses and high heels that a lot of the girls wore these days.

“So… what is this bonding session in aid of?” Pia’s jovial expression faltered as she knew that Kol would not like the subject. It was a tough but necessary topic if Pia was going to save her relationship with Kol.

“I know you’re upset with me giving Nik another chance, and Elijah told me to talk to you about it.” Looking very similar to a teenager that had just been told they were grounded, Kol rolled his eyes, huffed and flopped onto his back.

“Of course he did. Saint Elijah just couldn’t let things lie.”

“He was right! We should have spoken of this long ago, Kol.”

“We have spoken about it before.”

“I know that… and it helped, right?”

“I suppose it did for a time.” Kol agreed sulkily and watched as their roles were reversed and Pia propped herself up to look down at him. A blonde curl dangled temptingly in front of his face and he swatted at it like a kitten. Pia carefully tucked it back behind her ear and clicked her tongue impatiently. “Alright, alright! I’m taking this seriously, I promise.” There was an undertone of sarcasm in his voice, but Pia knew that this would be the best she would get from her annoying little brother.

“I am sorry for making you feel so torn, Kol. It was never my intention. I love you so much. You are my favourite mischief-maker and my best friend. I have always stuck up for you when the rest haven’t and I shall continue to do so until I meet my true death.

“I know things have not been easy or straightforward. From my introduction to the family to being turned into vampires to being hunted by our father… but through thick and thin you have always held a special place within my heart. Without you I would have gone insane by now. I need you to help me annoy Rebekah, to help me give Elijah headaches and to keep Niko in check. I need you to make my amazingly messed up little family whole. Please don’t hate me for trying to making all of this work again.” Pia took a deep breath after her little speech and wiped the single tear that had stubbornly insisted on falling from her right eye. Her heart was pounding as she watched Kol avoid eye contact. He truly despised when she became so emotional.

“Do you have to be so soppy?” Kol’s annoyed response broke the silence. It was to be expected as Pia knew how her brother struggled to accept feelings other than anger and hunger, so she remained quiet and sat up. She faced away from him and waited. “I will always remember seeing you cry after fighting with him in the past. I will always remember wishing to do nothing more than rip out his heart when his eyes stayed on Tatia and not on the girl beside him. After everything he has done, it is hard for me to trust that he won’t dagger me without notice or break your heart once again. Our brother has always acted before he thinks of the consequences, that is his biggest fault, and I can’t stand the thought of him making you upset once again.”

Pia hugged her knees to her chest as the guilt seeped through her pores. Kol had always been there for her and she should have realised that her brother would have found her forgiveness difficult to accept. She should have spoken to him about this sooner.

“But… I cannot say I’m surprised at the pair of you. You’ve both always been idiots in love and utterly pathetic when apart.”

It started out as a little breathless laughter at first before Pia found herself being pulled into Kol’s chest as they broke out into a fit of giggles. She smacked his shoulder lightly; silently disapproving at his need to be funny in that moment.

“Kol!” She scolded as they both fell back, Pia’s head on Kol’s chest as his body shook with silent laughter.

“See? This is much better.”

“Kol… I am being serious.”

“So am I. I will try to be less protective, it will just take time.”

“You will meet someone very special one day and then you shall see how the heart can make life difficult.”

“Me? Tied down to one woman? She’d have to be truly magical for that to happen.” Pia smiled into his shirt and looked up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Perhaps I shall be your best man?” Kol almost choked as he thought about being married. No… no! That would never happen.

“Sometimes I truly think that you live in an imaginary world, Pea.”

“Better to be an imaginary world than this one. It has not exactly treated us kindly.”

“Touché.” They both fell quiet for a while before Kol piped up again. “…when exactly are you going to leave so that I can return to breaking that girl’s hopes and dreams?” Pia bit back laughter and sent a strong push to Kol’s side. He hit the floor with a loud bang and continued to lie there on his carpet whilst his mind caught up with what his laughing sister had done. When his head popped up so that Pia could only see his eyes from over the edge of the bed, Pia’s giggles stopped. They blinked at each other and their muscles tensed ready for the war that had just begun.

Pia’s screams echoed through the house as she launched a couple of pillows at her brother. She used vampire speed to exit his room but was caught on the stairs by his strong arms. His nimble fingers found all of her weak points as he proceeded to tickle her until she hit the ground.

“What on earth?” The breathless pair froze as though they had been two naughty children caught by their mother. Rebekah stood at the bottom of the stairs, a cup of tea in her grasp and a hand on her hip. They stared at her as she looked at them for an explanation. “Well?”

A smash of a cup sounded through the house as the expensive china hit the floor.

Rebekah took steady steps backwards as her siblings looked at each other with matching grins. She put her hands in front of her as a defence.

“Don’t.

“You.

“Dare.”

Girlish squeals of laughter echoed through the foyer as the pair trapped their youngest sibling and tackled her to the floor; their fingers wiggled under her ribs as they found her most ticklish spot.

For once, if someone had walked in the manor at that moment, then they would have seen three siblings having fun with each other rather than the fearsome Original vampires that they were.

Unfortunately for them, someone was watching them.

The one person that none of them had thought they would meet again.

Mikael clenched his fists as he peered in through one of the manor windows. He watched Niklaus’ twin for a few moments before silently running back through the woods when he heard one of those stupid hybrids approaching his spot.

Soon he would get his revenge on Niklaus… starting with ending his love’s life. It would be so sweet to watch his step-son fall apart at the thought of his mate being in his enemy’s grasp. Oh, the plans he had… Mikael couldn’t wait to get started.

‘One way or another, I'm gonna find you I'm gonna get you One way or another, I'm gonna win you I'm gonna get you, get you One way or another, I'm gonna see you I'm gonna meet you One day, maybe next week I'm gonna meet you, I'm gonna meet you’ --- One Way or Another by Until The Ribbon Breaks---

[will-o-wips]

It is 4 am. I'm staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, coincidentally having my phone right in my line of sight, and write this with the exasperation and intense focus that I probably won't ever have again. I'm about to attempt to make any sort of sense of the latest Hayao Miyazaki movie, The Boy and the Heron (or rather, How do you live? in Japanese), that I watched for the first time in theatres a day ago.

I cannot claim to be right, or to know everything about this movie. Actually acclaimed critics and people with obviously more braincells than me have probably better takes than I do. But I must speak, lest the insanity truly take over my brain, lest I really end up combusting because of how much I want to talk about this.

Prepare yourselves for the most incoherent train of thought and line of consciousness you will ever experience.

FILLED WITH SPOILERS READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE.

Before I start with my actual thoughts, however, I'll state my personal feelings about the movie, because I feel that matters too, and this is my post anyway so! But I personally left the cinema feeling somewhat mellow. I was not insane about it yet. It was,,, "meh". The impression of the ride was great; I was giggling along with the funny and even sometimes not purposefully funny moments, I enjoyed the animation to the point I would genuinely flap my hands in excitement at how good it was, I understood the story in great lines by noticing small details and going "oh so does this mean x?". But I did not cry. Not a single tear during or after or before the movie. I did not waver with my opinion on it as I rambled about it to my friends online and irl, much to their annoyance. I did not hesitate when I put it in my silly little Studio Ghibli movie tierlist maker that I update whenever I watch another one of these films together with my friends, categorized (in)discreetly under "all vibes no plot but there's a witch/wizard". I still don't, in fact.

So, given all of this, you'd probably say that I disliked the movie. That I would not have so much to say about it, after doing my mandatory ramble and update. Wrong. I still have more to say, somehow.

Despite that, I didn't rewatch the movie itself. I read an entirety of one (1) review of it, together with one (1) random video essay of 8 or so minutes, covering the basics of it. I reblogged one (1) post about its protagonist on tumblr and otherwise kinda read through the rest of the posts on here. I did not re-experience or re-examine this movie again. I cannot (again) accurately reference anything besides that what I vaguely remember from watching it a day or two ago. It's not playing anywhere near me anymore/not out anywhere else yet, so really, I don't even know what possessed me to write about this, or even say anything. The most fascinating thing (to probably all of us here) is; what made me change my mind about it?

It might've been the review on IndieWire. David Ehrlich and his well-written review, bringing things into much needed context as to why this movie was created. It could've been the fact that I've actively processed the movie better, now a little bit of time has passed. [Honestly it deserves a second watch/view for something more concrete, but I'm repeating myself with this, you get it.]

But I don't even really understand it myself. I felt and still feel so detached from this movie in a sense. I appreciate the artistry that went into it, and I adore the way it simply tells the story and leaves it up to interpretation. It references every single film Hayao Miyazaki has ever made before, and elements of other Ghibli films can probably be found in there too, if you looked hard enough. The vibes were similar to those of Spirited Away, and Howl's Moving Castle, given how inexplicably fantastical the world was. It just existed and breathed, and we as the audience jumped straight into it. We never got more exposition than what was needed; honestly I have a feeling that the second half of the movie was the vaguest piece of media I have ever consumed in my life. But it also had this perfect balance of the more drama-focused Ghibli films. The Boy and the Heron, in my opinion, is like the golden middle between reality and fantasy, both in terms of its narrative as well as comparison between other Ghibli movies.

This might also be the reason why I felt confused. The lines between reality and fantasy were so effortlessly blurred, that you could only process a singular picture. And when things are vague to me, I constantly need to pick them apart and analyse them, simply to satisfy my own curiosity.

The moment before I stepped into the movie theatre, my friend who watched along with me told me they heard it was a film about grief. I nodded along and said "yeah, okay, that just means it's another one of many Hayao Miyazaki and Ghibli films. Most of them are about some kind of loss, and dealing with it, either way." I sat down together with them; row 9, chairs 17 and 18, with my two bottles of water (one carbonated, one stilled) and the bag of terribly sour packaged chocolate pretzels I bought at the theatre itself. Horribly overpriced for the quality, I must say. My friend held onto the popcorn, and we sat through the ads, talking and laughing, anticipating something that was supposed to blow us away.

I cannot speak for my friend, but I think they really liked the movie regardless. They didn't cry at it either, even though we both know of each other that we always cry at such things. Somehow this movie evoked a certain stillness in us both; a stalemate between emotions and confusion. Maybe delayed processing. Maybe something else entirely. We both, or at least I, hid it until later.

It was midnight, and right before we stepped on our train home, I was excitedly going on about the references and animation, the things I did appreciate. I bragged a bit about how I recognized Kenshi Yonezu's voice in the final credit song that we didn't get to listen to entirely, because it was so late and we had to rush to get home. They laughed at me and told me to take some time to actively formulate any coherent thoughts on it. I disagreed (lovingly and jokingly of course), and we left it at that.

In the train itself, the same high dimmed into a simmer, the excitement replaced with contemplation, and I kept talking.

I told them: "I believe that this truly is his last film. This felt like a goodbye." And in return, they replied: "It's crazy how this is the last time we'll ever get to live in such a moment. The release of the final Ghibli movie in theatres.

"I'm glad we got to go."

I was too.

I got home, rambled about the intrinsic way The Boy and the Heron referenced other Ghibli movies to my online friends who had yet to see it. Followed by a heated tangent about how When Marnie Was There truly could have had better direction in regards to the narrative, as well as how Only Yesterday was the most boring out of all Ghibli movies. It was a nice night. I didn't think about the movie again.

The following morning, I contacted other friends, who told me about how Robert Pattison voiced the Heron in the English dub, which I hadn't seen or heard at all. He did a great job, judging by the trailer. This led me to another opinion, namely the video essay (I will try to find it and put it in the notes later if you are curious), which claimed something similar to this (of course, paraphrased):

"This is a farewell. The one true movie to tie such an expansive career. It is another movie where you are allowed to explore the magical together with the main character, while sticking close to the processing of it all."

The review I read said it was a swan-song, that it was the question and title of the movie in Japanese, posed at us, after The Wind Rises left it open to interpretation at the end of its run. That this was a story about the legacy that Miyazaki is leaving behind, how reality and fantasy coexist together, possibly influencing each other (not explicitly said but what I interpreted that review saying, so no this is also not completely like this).

Other tumblr posts I've seen on here say it was a film most likely dedicated to his son, Goro Miyazaki. That it was a gentle "I'm sorry, the shadow I leave behind is huge. I know that you will try and fail to fill it. It's okay; you don't have to. You can leave it behind. It's alright if this legacy dies with me."

Some other sources I've seen compare the main protagonist to Miyazaki himself, trying to grapple with the ending.

Yet somehow, all of these interpretations seem to fail to explain the entirety of this movie. The bigger picture if you will. These themes and moments and interpretations are not wrong, but to me, they're not satisfying enough.

Because maybe I am the only one who actually was insane about this moment, but I will never forget the delivery room scene between Mahito and Natsuko. How Himi addresses the magic stone, pleading to let the two go, saying "Natsuko and the boy who is to be her son". (Again, paraphrased, I cannot remember the exact line.) Maybe I am the only one who witnessed the whimsical fire witch and the going back in time plots and the fact that a younger Kiriko and Himi were there, already part of an ecosystem. How we already know from the other grannies in the house that Mahito's mother disappeared once for a whole year into the tower, and then came back the same as before. How the pelicans were BROUGHT there, that they did not belong there, and yet were forgetting how to fly. How they ate the Warawara, these creatures that were rising above to be born in the upper world. How the Heron's weakness was his 7th tail feather (or something along those lines), and how the fish and the frogs chanted for Mahito to join them in the tower. That the great-great-uncle was hoping for Mahito to succeed him and build a new tower, yet the king of the parakeets butted in and haphazardly did the job, resulting in it immediately toppling over, as well as the stones getting cut.

I think about the final scene where the Heron says "It's best to forget. Do you have any keepsakes?" And Mahito shows not only older Kiriko's figure, but also a piece of the stone paths they walked upon in order to get to the centre, the beating heart, the magic stone and his great-great-uncle.

How this is taking place during a war, that the timeline goes from his mothers death that Mahito cannot get over, to the welcoming of his stepmother and his new younger sibling. Them moving back to Tokyo. The way the tower completely collapsed. Completely and utterly collapsed and perished; not even a trace of it left behind. The way that older Kiriko keeps yelling it is a trap to Mahito in the beginning, but that both he and the Heron know. That it is inevitable to tread this specific path. That he must see for himself, whether his mother is truly alive. The way she both was and wasn't; first a mirage of her older self disappearing into a puddle of water, and second a firey spirit of her younger self coming to help Mahito. The way that he reads and cries at the book she left him, the way he hits himself with a rock after his big fight with his classmates; the way Mahito in general drowns consistently in the beginning of the film. He drowns in the fire that he lost his mother in. He drowns in the mud and the dust when he tries to enter the tower at first. He drowns in his dreams, in his tears, drowns right into his quest to find Natsuko (straight through the floor, by behest of his great-great-uncle), drowns in pelicans trying to eat him, nearly drowns in the actual sea until younger Kiriko fishes him out.

Now these things may seem like me just randomly naming shit that happens in the movie. Hopefully in a slightly poetic way, possibly. I could go on and on about the imagery, truly. But my point is, this movie may have been Miyazaki's last movie, his way of closure, his way of speaking to his son about his legacy, his way of describing the grief of losing his mother (idk if this is autobiographical or not. It very well may have been), yet...

Even so, it doesn't really fit the entire picture. It feels incomplete. The analyses always focus on the true meaning behind this movie, what happens behind the scenes, this one key climactic moment between Mahito and his great-great-uncle. But that's as if you would ignore the rest of the movie in general. As if the fantastical aspects weren't there to abstractly tell a story besides just being a symbol of closure for the person that directed it.

Personally, this is a tale of rebirth. Of losing yourself, and then rediscovering yourself in a way. I associate it with my own personal loss of my grandfather; the family member I felt closest to out of everyone.

The way you look back at such a traumatic stage in your life, something that irrevocably changed you for good, something that you probably don't ever want to relive again, but also mustn't forget. The way you instinctively are afraid to learn about who the person you love and grieve was, before you were in their life.

To this day, I still cannot speak to my mother about whether my grandfather had a favourite song before me forcing him to sing along with my favourites. A favourite book before he read out bedtime stories to me tirelessly. Who the boy in him was, and what wisdom and life lessons he carried on, into his grave, into the hearts of his children.

This movie depicts so much more than just grief, it's so much more than just legacy, even. It directly reflects the way I know I would have felt had I dared to actually see things for myself. If I actually dared to go through my grandfather's old things; the books he wrote and dedicated to me, the books he read when he was young. This movie depicts not how to live, but how to live on.

And the only way to live on is to move forward. To look at the foundations upon which it was built, to evaluate whether you truly want to have this be your burden to carry for the rest of your life. Mahito's abstract grief in regards to his mother, and the solace he finds in the fact that he at least knew who she was; that he at least had her in his life as both his mother and the girl that his stepmother knew, that at the very least he knows his mother would do it all over again, if she could. That despite everything, she did not regret a thing, and that she was not afraid. That somewhere, in the past, she lives on, happily marching toward this fate, because she knows that Mahito will be there to meet her again in the future.

And Natsuko, god, she worries relentlessly about whether Mahito will accept her. She worries to the point she yells at him, telling him that she hates him and his existence, because he rejects her so coldly and yet still bothers to show up in front of her during her most vulnerable moments. That he only takes and takes and takes; he steals her cigarettes in order to learn how to sharpen a knife from one of the servants. He uses those techniques to create a bow and arrow, a weapon. He gets into fights at school, he gets gravely injured on the side of his head, leaving a lasting scar.

If I were in her shoes, I would be furious at him too. Especially if he walked straight into the delivery room, trying to drag me out of bed while I was doing my damn best to keep the other child in my belly alive.

That scene, that sheer rage, and the way it ALL FUCKING SUBSIDES the MOMENT Mahito accepts her and calls her mother. The moment Mahito understands that through the literal whirlwind of plasters, things used to tend to wounds, none of those pleasantries/guards will truly allow him to reach her. The way he tries to nurse his own wounds, as well as try to nurse hers, over the loss of their shared connection (Natsuko's older sister, Mahito's biological mother), will NEVER allow him to make a connection with her. By being careful, by being polite, he will never get to be her son.

And he realizes, in that moment, that he wants to.

The magic stone tries to stop this. The magic stone dislikes disruption; dislikes things changing, dislikes breaking traditions (the taboo of entering the delivery room). The parakeets in the tower flourish because they follow the magic stone's whims more or less. They agree to follow its rules, even if it means they are prone to its abuse, because it gives them an advantage, a place to stay. The pelicans have to eat the Warawara, because there is no other food available to them.

The way younger Kiriko says "you reek of death", and how they establish this place is mostly made up of death and dead people. Dead people, or dying people, creatures that are begging to survive another day. Creatures that are begging to be reborn. That want to change, that wish to fly once more.

My mother once gave me a poem dearest to her heart. We have always been a family filled with literature and stories, but my mother was always the best at both writing them and reciting them. She used to read them out to me, back when I was in a particularly bad spot mentally, to the point I could not get out of bed for weeks on end, to try and reach me. She read with the sincerest passion in her voice, a small plea to get me back to the girl I was before.

I cannot explain or remember the poem by heart, but once I was at my true rock bottom, she told me to look it up. A Serbian poem, written by Miroslav Antić (I will add the name of it later), that was about growing up and growing into your own person. It made me weep, for it had a phrase I think I can only translate to this:

"Run and don't look back."

Somehow, whenever I look at all of these birds and creatures in this fantasy world, trying to fly desperately, trying to get to the skies, trying to get to even live, and think about the fact that the only way they can is by leaving this place. That the only way they can fly and survive as themselves is by leaving this tower, this stone, this foundation. By leaving and being born, by leaving and being reborn.

And, after all of this. Somehow I'm not even done yet. I haven't talked about the great-great-uncle in depth, nor the king of the parakeets, nor the heron whatsoever. I have not yet even touched upon what I might think the magic stone is, and the sheer amount of like symbolism I picked apart in my brain because of my insanity.

I'm probably not the only one who noticed these things. But so far I haven't seen anyone actively share these things, so, I will do my best to continue and genuinely wrap it up as best as I can. So that this can also bring the same amount of closure as the movie does.

The magic stone is like a shooting star that came onto the earth. It realizes dreams and worlds of whoever dares to walk into it and claim to own it; like how Mahito's great-great-uncle got obsessed and built a tower around it, caging it, taming it. And yet he still had to play to its whims, consistently making sure his own tower of blocks did not fall, that all of his work did not amount to nothing. Personally, I do believe the great-great-uncle could represent Miyazaki himself. That Miyazaki is trying to express how he built Ghibli and that now it has been going on for so long, and it has become unmanageable to continue upholding it. That it is time to retire.

A thing I find interesting and remember pretty well is the conversation between the parakeet king and the great-great-uncle. How they talked about Mahito's transgression, breaking into the delivery room (side note: he broke in and broke through to Natsuko with his mother's spirit. Mahito became Natsuko's son with the blessing of his mother; with the sheer love she had for him being carried on and through), and how the great-great-uncle says something akin to this:

"It is why I wish for him [Mahito] to succeed me."

"I cannot overlook such a transgression."

I feel this is important. It is key to how the great-great-uncle views Mahito in this. Because Mahito was not sent out on this quest to find Natsuko out of pure selfishness. Sure, his uncle would have wanted him to succeed him, but the entire reason WHY he believed in Mahito to begin with, is the fact that this boy was able to break the foundation and the traditions in the first place. Mahito inherently disobeys from the chosen path. Mahito inherently does not believe the Heron when he says that all herons lie. Mahito doesn't waver when the heron flies straight at him, he doesn't sway when the frogs or the pelicans overwhelm him. Mahito stands firm in who he is, even if he is trying to deal with new circumstances. Mahito inherently goes to places he should not be in (his curiosity for the tower). Mahito has enough power on his own to create a new tower, but only by rebuilding it from scratch.

This ready acceptance that the great-great-uncle has towards Mahito's decision NOT to inherit his legacy, is what makes me believe this is what this movie is supposed to represent. Break away from the old, off into the new. Closure. Moving on.

This is also reflected in the sentiment that Mahito truly DOES move on. He goes back to his family, his father, school, he goes back with Natsuko as his mother and a new younger sibling to Tokyo. He returns there where he came from, but he is not the same anymore. He is reborn into a new Mahito.

And god I feel like I'm repeating myself to death here; I really should have thought about the structure of this, but give me some slack okay. It's like 6:30 am already and I'm still not done, despite continuously writing and labouring at this.

So, the tower that immediately falls apart by someone who always follows the whims of a dream (the parakeet king and the stone respectively). God it is just such a momentTM. Because in the end even this shows that the parakeets, too, even though they by far had it the best in that goddamn tower, had to leave. For they could not build something on their own without learning who they were outside of the already established. Outside of just following the rules and all.

They had to leave, my GODDDDD.

As I'm getting progressively more unhinged, we shall move onto the most unhinged character in this entire fucking movie. The Heron himself. God there's too much to unpack here, really, but the truth is, the Heron was supposed to be the guide to Mahito. The Heron was supposed to be Mahito's biggest, most aggressive enemy, the direct antagonist to Mahito's protagonist. The Heron doesn't want change. The Heron tries to bribe Mahito with the fact that his mother is still alive, that he need only enter the tower, and lose himself to illusions and dreams. That fantasizing about his mother being alive won't only drown him more, that it won't just let Mahito sink into the deepest pits of his despair and anguish about such a death, that losing yourself to the belief that something is there when it is not wouldn't only be counterproductive. The Heron masks himself consistently; he says that all herons lie. He says that he only has one weakness, his own feather, that allows the arrow to automatically target him. In essence, the Heron shot himself in the foot beak. He himself slipped up in his mirage world, and came out to be who he truly was, this weird little man with a huge nose and a conniving demeanour. He adamantly cannot disobey the dream, for then his true nature comes peaking out (a small detail I absolutely love is the fact that the Heron's feathers also disappear out of Mahito's hands when Mahito is called back to reality by the grannies. The grannies protect him in the dream world too, by being his tether and support system while he gets over himself and starts trusting Natsuko). The Heron doesn't WANT to be a guide, for in order to be a guide, you must tell the truth. You'd need to know some facts about the world around you and share this information with the ones seeking guidance. This is how I believe Mahito understood the Heron before we did.

It's not that all herons lie; it's just that this particular one does not want to face the truth/reality.

Another interesting detail: the whole reason why only Mahito was able to cover up the hole in the Heron's beak was reminiscent about how only those that called you out can really patch up your old image. Only those that have poked holes in your false narrative are able to fill them back up again, and even then it is not the same, and even then it will not always be comfortable/reliable.

Either way, the Heron, after this wings partially turn into hands, his true nature, is unable to fly all that well for a while. He relies on Mahito's corkscrew thing in order to relish in his comfort zone of lies again. But throughout the movie, the Heron slowly starts to ignore the corkscrew completely; simply opting to stay in his (frankly, freakish) half gremlin man half heron costume form. The Heron changes because Mahito inspired him to change. Even though his image used to be spotless before, and he tried to deceive Mahito, after a while, he stopped doing that. The mutual trust both Mahito and the Heron had grew. The Heron became a person, although his heron-ness would never go away.

The Heron thus warns Mahito that he should want to forget. That he will forget, either way. That this struggle of his to grapple with the reality of his situation, and the fantasy that he was delving into, will become a far-off memory that Mahito should not revisit. The Heron, I believe, is genuinely trying to look out for Mahito.

"Don't dwell in what you have already overcome. Don't revisit the things you have already outgrown."

And this is where the movie more or less ends. Mahito still keeps that stone, and his mother's book, and he goes back to Tokyo; the only crucial difference is that he has overcome his own grief.

Now, I've said this like a billion times now, but this is the rebirth. This is what I think this movie stands for. What it means, at its core. This is what it means to live; to move on and to cut ties with that what has no place in your life anymore. Miyazaki, I think, is trying to give us closure, a final farewell to Ghibli altogether.

Now I don't know about any speculation that he might come back again, and personally, I don't think it really matters. If he does come back, good for him. I just don't know enough to say anything for sure, so I'll just say I cannot say.

Either way, I think, even though Miyazaki conveyed the need for a new start/a rebirth, he didn't really end on the complete abolishment of all that used to be. You are allowed to keep mementos of it; even though the Heron advises not to. Mahito is allowed to reflect upon this experience, to see it as another stone in his foundation/formation, to say that, yes, the spirit of this change will always stay with me, although it has passed.

Just like how Mahito's mom was someone who returned to the past without regrets. She never came back. She was a spirit that pushed Mahito forward, and he will always remember her, but it's better that she stay a memory than become a fantasy.

This is why I'm so impressed by this movie in general. I'm so thankful that I was able to witness this with a friend of mine. I'm glad that I was able to see this, even though my insanity knows no bounds, and the fact that I didn't even think about any of this until I really sat down to look through the options of interpretations.

I'm so glad I got to go. Now it's time to run towards the future, and never look back.