#look at the projection and displacement and you’ll see what’s really going on

[twilightcitysky]

Hypothesis: Aziraphale HATES that Crowley is living in his car.

Supporting evidence:

The very first thing we see him do in the present is stop Maggie from moving out and making sure she feels welcome to stay as long as she likes.

He clearly knows Crowley’s unhappy before anything happens in the plot: “Does it calm you down?”. And also clearly feels helpless about it. Enter the conspicuous Eccles cakes: Aziraphale’s offer, which is rejected.

Crowley’s obviously, for all his hedging, spending a lot of time at the bookshop— so much that he has his own glasses perch and feels immediately comfortable removing them. See also: “Technically my bookshop but we both get plenty of use out of it”, “Why don’t you wait inside? You like waiting inside”.

It’s Crowley who immediately shoves the box of plants into Aziraphale’s arms after Aziraphale returns from Scotland.

Speaking of Scotland, why wouldn’t Aziraphale take the train? Why insist on driving the Bentley? Is it perhaps because he wants to get Crowley and his plants into the shop, and thinks if he creates a situation where Crowley has to stay there, maybe he won’t immediately leave again?

He’s got an empty bedroom and an apparently pathological need to make the person staying there very comfortable, creating cute little customized souvenirs like he’s an Air B&B host (displacement!).

He immediately jumps to having Gabriel stay with him— he didn’t have to. Arguably, both Gabriel and Aziraphale would be safer if Gabe stayed elsewhere.

That’s what I’ve got for now but I’m sure there’s more. Throughout the show, watch what Aziraphale gives to others and does for others, and it’ll tell you what he wants to do for Crowley. He’s living so deeply in displacement in makes him come across as manic and brittle.

(What probably happened is Aziraphale offered the spare bedroom and Crowley, who unconsciously didn’t want to be his roommate or sleep in a single bed with Aziraphale right downstairs because how could the poor lovesick boy cope with that, told him he wasn’t a “good deed” for Aziraphale to do and stormed off.)

Conclusion: Aziraphale asked Crowley to stay at his place, immediately and probably repeatedly. They had a row about it, and Crowley refused, and to this day Aziraphale doesn’t understand why.

And it hurts him.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #356

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

You pour a bowl of milk. It is already too late by the time you realize you forgot the cereal. Shame.

Hmmm… you think to yourself. This is very unfortunate. How can I remedy this situation?

First, you assess the facts of the case. There is milk in a bowl, for one thing - this is the problem. You can’t pour cereal on top of it, because then it will only float impotently, which means it will remain entirely dry and likely spill over the top. It’s impossible to perfect the ratio between Cinnamon Toast Crunch and milk under such conditions. That is not your solution.

You contemplate adding another bowl to the mix. Pour the cereal in the second bowl, naturally, and then pour the milk from this bowl into that bowl. Problem solved, or so it would seem. The trouble here is that this would create an entire additional dirty dish, which you hate with a burning passion. Doing the dishes dries out your skin, so you say, and as a result the sink is piled up with all the milkless bowls in the house. Nobody could expect you to wash one of those before you’ve even had your breakfast, could they?

No, this is simply not workable. Pouring the milk into a cup would have the same externality as the bowl, without the convenience of only pouring the milk a single additional time. Is there no consequence-free vessel which could hold this milk temporarily?

You look at the bowl. Your reflection in the milk stares back with disappointment. You look at the spoon in your hand. Your reflection here also stares back in disappointment, except upside-down. You look at the deranged cannibal mascots on the box of cereal. They too appear disappointed, though you are likely just projecting. Then you see the carton.

Yes. Yes, the carton! You can scarcely contain your glee. Here on the counter, right before you, is the most obvious solution which only a true genius could come up with. The milk carton - and yes, it was right in the name, too - was expertly designed just for the task of holding milk. It was where the milk came from in the first place. You couldn’t ask for a better place to keep your milk than inside a milk carton (Canadians, keep your polymer dairy sacks to yourselves). The carton is rigid, it is stable, it is passionately heroic in its aims to hold milk still and secure. That is where this milk - temporarily embarrassed by its lonely occupation of an off-white ceramic valley - must return. It must go home.

You use your index fingers to widen the mouth of the carton as far as you can manage without destroying it - after all, you’ll need to keep using this carton for the rest of the week - and manage a dilation of approximately an inch and a half. It will have to do. You carefully bring the bowl to the spout, take a deep breath, and slowly tilt it. The milk climbs the side of the bowl, bulging at the top with great tension, and then spills over the edge.

You manage to get, what, half of the milk back into the carton? The rest spills onto the countertop and the floor. This will probably smell really bad tomorrow. But for now, that is not your problem. You pour your cereal into the bowl, reintroduce the displaced dairy, lower your spoon into the bowl and take a bite.

Your face sours - which is where the milk has gone. You recall that you have not purchased skim milk since you gave up on your new year’s resolution last month. You spit into the sink, slightly heaving, and throw the bowl in after it. After you scrape your tongue and gargle a shot of mouthwash, you put on your coat. After all this hardship, you have surely earned it - go buy yourself a McGriddle.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[txemrn]

Hey, friends!  I'm ready to see some of y'all's future projects, whether they are fics, text edits or picta edits! Tags will be at the end, but if you are reading this, please consider yourself tagged to share!

If you're interested, check under the cut to find some of my current WIPs: 2 TRR snippets and 2 OPH snippets!

Thank you so much for all of the support! *hugs*

----------

Pour Two Glasses, Ch. 5: TBD  

TRR; Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

As she approaches a knoll, a large shadow grants her body brevity from the warm sun. She brings a hand to her forehead, shielding the brightness from her eyes. She strains to make out the broad shapes and chiseled lines of the man standing before her. His eyes shimmer with the brilliance of the Mediterranean, his skin like the soft sands of Nissi.

“My love,” he smiles endearingly at her; he cups two filled wine flutes in one large hand as he extends his arm out towards her, his open palm ready to take her into his arms.

“My king,” she breathes, her heart swelling at the very presence of him. She drops her skirt. She draws closer to him as a smile brightly bubbles across her lips. It’s him; it’s really him.

But as their fingertips almost touch, Riley missteps.  She trips over an imperfection in the terrain as she falls to her knees, her hands catching her on the ground. As she looks back to her husband, he is gone.

“No,” she whispers as she frantically scours the rolling hills around her.

----------

TBD (one-shot)

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

“Ethan?” An older man grabs the young boy's skinny arms, gently shaking them to wake him up. “C’mon, buddy, it’s your birthday.”

“Dad,” the preteen groans, “just five more minutes.” He dramatically flops over, pulling the covers over his head.

“Well,” his father takes a seat on the side of his bed, “I guess then a certain eleven-year-old won’t get to open a birthday gift before his party–”

Ethan quickly lifts up the covers, peering at his dad with one eye barely open. “Really? I–I can open a gift before tonight?” Alan Ramsey holds up a small, wrapped box in the shape of a cassette tape. “No way… is that…?” He throws the covers off of his body as he sits up, stealing the present from his father.  He puts his ear up to it, shaking it gently. He scrunches up his freckled nose, his wide smile exposing his lone, cute displaced tooth as his crystal eyes dance with amazement.  “Did you get me the Pearl Jam album?”  

“Don’t know,” Alan feigns ignorance, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess you’ll have to open it up.”

---------

Stay, Chapter 3: Don't You Speak for Me

TRR AU; Drake Walker x f!OC; f!OC (Reid Ambrose) x ?

About this snippet... the Ambrose Siblings: Reid (24), Tana (21), Nick (18)

Tana looks to Reid with concern. "There are protests down in the villages–violent ones." She sighs, "they had to call in the national guard," she clenches her jaw. "They started mowing down Auvernese like dogs."  

The siblings fall silent as Reid takes in these words, confusion and a sense of anger etching across her face. She had taken the back way home; this was the first she had heard about any violence.

Thinking about all of the displaced people, her people, that sought safety in Cordonia during the war, Reid blinks back tears.  She kisses her niece's temple before attempting to change the subject, hoping for something less gloomy.

"So... where's Papa?"

Tana and Nicky exchange worrisome glances to one another before focusing on their older sister. "He went looking for you–"

"What?" Reid hisses, handing baby Mila back to her sister. "And you let him go?" She opens the front door and begins to unlock her bicycle. "How could you let him go?"

----------

Like Ships in the Night, Prologue: We Finally Got it Right

Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)... and other former pairings...

Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take.  “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.

“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.

He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”

"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath.

The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course.  Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens.

God, I need him.

-----------

Who wants to share with the class? @sfb123 @charlotteg234 @socalwriterbee @ofmischiefandmedicine @inlocusmads @mvalentine @kat-tia801 @debramcg1106 @harleybeaumont @angelasscribbles @nestledonthaveone @cariantha @starrystarrytrouble @ao719 @queenrileyrose @peonierose @kingliam2019 @bebepac

And seriously... if you see this and you weren't tagged, PLEASE participate! This is for everyone! 💜💜💜

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Artist Family 1991 movie?

All is more sullen than usual for the Artists. It’s the third anniversary of Rose’s disappearance

Juleka: *Solemnly staring at Rose’s empty room* Think of it That. For years we’ve attempted to contact Rose in the Great Beyond. And for years… Nothing.

Ever since Rose’s disappearance, Juleka has been looking through her spell books for other ways to contact her, but just can seem to find anything

For Marinette, she tries to cope the only way she knows how… Through torture.

Alix: *Tied up: Screaming through her binds*

Marinette: *Aiming an arrow at Alix* Don’t be a baby. I know what I’m doing.

Marc is more unhappy than usual… And it gets Nathaniel in the mood.

Nathaniel: *Watching Marc sleep* Look at him. I would die for him. I would kill for him… Either way, what bliss. *Marc wakes up* Unhappy, darling?

Marc: Oh, yes. Yes, completely. Nathan... The sun. Me atraviesa como un puñal.

Nathaniel: Oh, monochrome. That's Spanish.

Marc: Si.

Nathaniel: *Grabs a bucket of black paint and splatters it all over the window*

Marc: Mi amor... Last night, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate howling demon. You frightened me… Do it again.

Also, their neighbor, a well-respected judge, hates them because Marinette can’t keep her flaming arrows on the Artists’ property. Why does this matter? You’ll soon see.

Nathaniel: *Playing chess with Juleka while Marc snips the buds off of roses* It’s a milestone, Marc. It’ll be our third séance. All those years, gnawed by guilt, undone by woe, burning with uncertainty.

Marc: Nathaniel, don’t torture yourself… That’s my job around here. But, imagine if Rose did return. Half alive, barley human, a rotting shell.

Juleka: *Sighs* That’d be a sight.

Unbeknownst to everyone (Except Félix), Juleka has a crush on Rose.

Later, the Artists’ lawyer, Cecil and his wife Bridgette arrive to ask for a loan. (Wow. Asking for a loan from teenagers? Yeesh.) Why? Because they owe a loan shark.

Bridgette: Why did I marry you?

Cecil: Because I said yes!

While Cecil tries to work out a deal with Nathaniel, Bridgette collects expensive looking items for a charity auction from Juleka, Marc, and Félix

Marc: *As Félix pulls body bags out of a closet* Uncle Niknak's winter wardrobe. Uncle Niknak's summer wardrobe… Uncle Niknak.

Nathaniel: ‘The Rose Artist Off-Shore Retirement Fund’?… A tribute to thee. Some called her inhumanly evil.

Cecil: No!

Nathaniel: Only her parents before she fled her home.

And they make a deal… But…

Nathaniel: It’s going to have to wait, you know the rules better than that. Old business is old business and new business is new business. And this is new business and we do not discuss new business until… The next quarter.

After an unsuccessful attempt at stabbing Nathaniel with one of the many swords in the house, Cecil gives up until Nathaniel mentions going to get money for the monthly expenses from the vault

Meanwhile, Marc shows Bridgette a golden finger trap from the court of Emperor Wu

Bridgette: *Trying to not pocket it and run off* Oh, Marc, this is too extravagant, even for the auction.

Juleka: Let’s keep it.

Marc: Juleka, it’s for charity. *Bridgette gets her fingers trapped* Widows and orphans. We need more of them… Bridgette, about the séance tonight, why don’t you come? It's Nathaniel I'm terribly worried about. He won't eat, he can't sleep, he keeps coughing up blood.

Bridgette: He coughs up blood?

Marc: Well, not like he used to...

Cecil returns to his office with a suitcase full of doubloons from the Artists’ account, no knowledge of how to get the vault open, and in his office is Ms. Craven, a loan shark and her familiar-looking daughter, Willow

After some intimidation from Willow, Cecil gets an idea of how to repay Ms. Craven the money he owes her when he sees how similar she looks to Rose

There’s thunder and lightning on the night of the séance. Perfect weather

Marc: Marinette, Alix, put down that antenna, and come inside.

With their plan in place, Cecil and Bridgette arrive

Bridgette: *Shows Marinette the finger trap still on her fingers* Could you help me? *Marinette removes it with ease*

Marinette: Push, do not pull.

Marc: *With everyone seated around the table for the séance* Harken all souls. Every year on this date, we offer a clarion call to Rose Artist… Alix, drop the cleaver.

Marinette: *Sees Alix aiming the cleaver at her* Stop it.

Marc: From generation to generation, our beacon to the beyond. All close eyes and join hands.

After a practical joke on Bridgette involving That, the séance continues.

Marinette: Let us ransom you from the power of the grave. Tonight, oh Death, let us be your plague.

Juleka: Rose Artist, ceoli couris, ferimani bo… She’s near. *Félix plays a dramatic sting on his organ* Rose! Gather your strength! And knock three times! *One knock… Two… Three*

Nathaniel: She’s at the door!

That quickly goes to unlock the front door. And there, much to the Artists’ disbelief and joy is Rose… Or so they think. And there with her is Ms. Craven, posing as a psychiatrist named Dr. Schloss

Ms. Craven makes up some story about how “Rose” was found in Miami, tangled up in a tuna net. There were psychological tests, and a bunch of crap.

Nathaniel: And now she’s back.

Rose: At least for a week. I’ve got things to do back at the Bermuda Triangle.

Marc: *Sighs* Oh, the Bermuda Triangle./ Nathaniel: The Devil’s Island./ Marc: The Black Hole of Calcutta

Nathaniel: Pardon me for a moment. *Kisses up and down Marc’s arm* Our fifth date.

Marinette: No one escapes the Bermuda Triangle. Not even for a vacation. Everyone knows that.

Any attempts Willow tries at getting a good night’s sleep, it doesn’t work because The floors are constantly creaking, Marinette and Alix keep staring at her from down the hall, and That keep sneaking up on her which causes her to scream.

Nathaniel: … My dear friend. I’ve got goosebumps./ Marc: I know./ Nathaniel: Screams in the night. It can only mean one thing./ Marc: She’s home.

The next morning, Marinette and Alix suspect something is up with “Rose”. Meanwhile, Nathaniel takes “Rose” to the vault

Alix: *As Marinette warms up the electric chair* Do you think that’s really Rose?

Marinette: Nathaniel and Juleka seem to think so. But I think Marc isn’t sure. Now let’s a play a game. Sit in the chair.

Alix: What game?

Marinette: ‘Want to meet God?’

And Nathaniel does take Rose down to the vault, via gondola in the catacombs of the Artist home, only this vault leads to a secret room… That also leads to the money vault when a certain vial of poison is lifted

During that time, while they’re down there, Nathaniel reveals to “Rose” that his jealousy over her catching the attention of conjoined twins Ali and Eli drove her off

~Meanwhile~ Alix: So, if that’s not Rose, then who is she?

Marinette: An imposter. Now give the chair a few more seconds to warm up./ Alix: Why?/ Marinette: So it Can kill you./ Alix: I knew that.

~Later at the charity auction ~

Auctioneer: *Presenting the finger trap on Bridgette’s fingers again* This piece is encrusted with rubies and 15 emerald chips. It was donated by Marc and Nathaniel Artist. Remember, over half our proceeds will benefit the elderly and the mentally disabled. The bidding starts at $5000.

Nathaniel: Five, hah! Not good enough. $25,000!

Auctioneer: I have twenty.

Nathaniel: Twenty-five! *To Marc* Meyn Ziskeyt?

Auctioneer: Twenty five.

Marc: Thirty. *To Nathaniel* My howling demon.

Nathaniel: *voice cracks* Thirty-five!

Marc: Fifty!

Auctioneer: I have $50,000.

Marc: Your turn, my ecstasy.

Auctioneer: Fifty thousand going once, fifty thousand going twice. Sold to Marc Artists for fifty thousand dollars. *looks disgusted as Marc and Nathaniel obscenely make out*

They bought it back as a gift for “Rose”, but… She doesn’t know how to take it off! The Artists are now starting believe that she really is an imposter

Marc attempts to break “Rose” and get her to confess by taking her to the Artists’ cemetery where he reminds her of the credo

Marc: "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc." "We gladly feast on those who would subdue us." Not just pretty words… Rose. As an Artist, you understand completely.

“Rose”: … As an Artist, I do.

Seeing that everyone’s onto her, Willow calls Ms. Craven and has her pose as the psychiatrist to try and make the Artists none the wiser

Marc: Nathaniel, Juleka, why don’t you speak to Rose? She’s right outside the door.

Juleka: We would… If that were the real Rose.

Nathaniel: She’s an imposter! A charlatan! A sham! A counterfeit!

While wandering around the home, Rose sees Marinette and Alix sword fighting and practicing lines for something.

Ms. Craven successfully convinces the Artists that their reason for suspecting “Rose” is an imposter is due to displacement, and meanwhile, Rose helps Marinette and Alix out with their sword fighting scene for a play they’re in at school. A play she’s not allowed to attend but goes to anyway

Just a few minutes before the play, Mme. Bustier, asks Marc a question about Marinette.

Mme. Bustier: Now, the students did projects on their heroes. Alya Cesaire chose Lois Lane.

Marc: Have you spoken to her parents?

Mme. Bustier: And Marinette did her project on someone named Calpurnia Dupain.

Marc: Oh, her great aunt on her father’s side. She was burned as a witch in 1706. They say she danced naked in town square and enslaved a minister. *Unaware of Mme. Bustier’s horror.* Don’t worry, we told her university first.

And after so many horrible performances, comes the best one yet… Where Marinette and Alix splatter fake blood all over the audience.

Nino: … I suggested a evening in the park, but no. You wanted to see the performances.

Alya: *Spits out fake blood* Shut up.

Furious that her plans to get into the vault have failed since “Rose” decided to go to the play, Ms. Craven insists that “Rose” must leave again… But not before the Artists mark the occasion with a going away party where the entire Artist clan is invited.

Marc: *To Marinette who is dancing with Luka* Marinette, would you go check on Rose upstairs, please?

Marinette leaves (Not before kissing Luka) and overhears Willow and Ms. Craven going over their plan to break into the vault. She quickly runs to go get help.

Meanwhile, Cecil figures out a way to get rid of the Artists for good. And here’s where the judge comes in- He gets a restraining order agasint them so they can’t set foot on their property

After the party, the Artist family tries to find Marinette when they realize that she’s gone missing. But when they return with her, they find that they can’t get inside their own home. And when they attempt to appeal to the judge, he sends them away out of spite.

The Artists are now living in a motel. Nathaniel is in a state of depression knowing they’ve been betrayed, and Marc is just trying to keep Juleka, Marinette, and Alix from going crazy… Er.

Also, he gets a job as a kindergarten teacher’s assistant. Let’s see how that turns out.

Marc: And so the witch lured Hansel and Gretel into the candy house by promising them more sweets. And she told them to look in the oven. But, before she herself could push the children inside, Hansel pushed her, that poor defenseless elderly witch into the oven instead and burned her to a crisp as she writhed in agony… Now children. How do you think that feels? *The children cry* … Exactly.

That gets a job as a courier, and Marinette, Juleka, and Alix sell poison macarons.

Not able to stand the sight of his family in such a state, Marc returns to the Artists home to confront “Rose” only to be captured by Ms. Craven and Cecil. And unknown to Marc, That followed him.

Craven, Cecil, and Willow torture Marc so he can tell them how to access the vault means of torture, but he’s a total masochist and is loving every second of it

That returns to the motel and- through Morse code- tells the Artists that Marc’s been captured

Nathaniel: Mar... Marc... Marc? Marc is what? Slow down, That! It's terrible when you stutter!

*That starts tapping in Morse Code with a pen*

Nathaniel: Marc... in... danger... stop. Send... help... at once... STOP! *He runs out. That collapses*

Nathaniel arrives just before they can try and kill Marc, and engages in a sword fight with Cecil, which he gains the upper hand on, then loses when Ms. Craven has Marc at gun point. She forces him to show Willow the vault or she shoots Marc if they’re not back in an hour

Before Nathaniel can pull out the book that activates the secret door on the shelf, Willow pulls out a different book- A spellbook that projects It’s contents into reality and creates a storm. A bolt of lightning strikes Willow and launches Cecil and Craven out the window and into graves dug by Marinette, Alix, and Juleka

Alix: Are they dead?

Marinette: Does it matter?

Months later on Halloween, it’s revealed that Willow has been Rose all this time, and the story about the tuna net and the Bermuda Triangle were true. She just suffered from amnesia

Bridgette: *To Marinette* Dear, where’s your costume.

Marinette: This is my costume. I’m a homicidal maniac; they look just like everyone else.

While the others play a good game of ‘Wake The Dead’ Marc and Nathaniel stay behind because Marc has something to tell him.

Nathaniel: Monochrome, what is it?

Marc: I finally received a letter from my mothers, and… *Shows him an ultrasound photo* They said if it’s anything like me, they want us to have it.

Sequel

[fakecrfan]

POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

it rings

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy.  It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

[robininthelabyrinth]

Thank you "Worthwhile Trade". The idea of Baxia turning into an guai is so interesting. I liked imagining the part where she hit NMJ for his idiocy. My brain is projecting "married couple" vibes, omg. I admit despite how weird WWX spoke about the events, the time travel part flew over my head until the tags spelled it out for me. (TBC)

(Cont'd) Also... did NMJ mean it in THAT dual-thing way when talking WRH's prefs? And the last part, where WWX used resentful energy to sub NMJ's qi. I assume he can still cultivate since his core's still there, if emptied? But I wonder what'll happen to his energy once restored Can't help but think his renewed qi will inevitably be affected by the traces of the previous energy that once circulated. He's not going to become a walking stygian tiger or something, is he? Off the wall guess, sorry!

----

sequel to Worthwhile Trade (ao3), also on tumblr

Wei Wuxian didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

He didn’t understand the way he thought, the way he acted – the way he smiled when he woke up, the way he opened his arms when Nie Huaisang threw himself into them with a wail and said, “It was worth it for you, didi; it always is if it’s for you. Don’t you know that?” the way Wei Wuxian had always shamefully thought of saying, as if something like that could just be said like that, out in the open.

The way Nie Mingjue shrugged when the doctors said his cultivation would likely never recover, that he should have died, that they didn’t understand why he hadn’t; the way he said, seeming even satisfied, that it was a worthwhile trade.

It’s not a trade, Wei Wuxian wanted to scream at him. It’s a sacrifice! It hurts and you’re sad, no, worse, you’re resentful about it and you shouldn’t be because it was your choice, your decision, but you see someone else with everything that you worked so hard for and you’re angry when you shouldn’t be angry and you feel bad and you turn away; it hurts them when you do and you’re glad, you miserable thing, you’re happy that they’re hurt because why should you be the only one whose hurt –

Perhaps the problem wasn’t that he didn’t understand Nie Mingjue.

Perhaps it was only that he saw in Nie Mingjue his own faults, his own deficiencies, the ones he’d tried so hard to hide in the sea of his poor memory.

“You’ll die if you don’t find a way to cultivate,” he said instead, hovering by the door. He’d say that he didn’t mean to ruin the mood, but he kind of did, and Baxia’s eyes on him were cold as if she knew.

As if she knew everything.

How he’d gone back to the past, how he’d changed things, how it was his fault that Nie Mingjue – who’d never done a single thing to hurt him, who’d been upright and righteous and good and whose brother loved him enough to –

Wei Wuxian had made a point of avoiding Baxia.

Not that she was that easy to avoid. She was tall for a woman – not as tall as Nie Mingjue, but proportionate to him in the sense that she was as much taller than the average woman as he was taller than the average man – and she walked as though people should flee before her, a tread that only felt heavy because of the almost visceral rage that surrounded her like a cloud.

Nie Huaisang had found robes for her, somehow, and they were the least feminine robes Wei Wuxian had ever seen a woman wear, though he supposed he still hadn’t seen that given that Baxia wasn’t exactly a woman.  Cut in a martial style, a dark shimmering grey that seemed in some lights to be almost red – she had been born as a human in a mantle of blood and she would not let anyone forget it.

“I should have died already,” Nie Mingjue said, as if the world’s scariest guai didn’t have her hand on his shoulder right next to his vulnerable neck. “You came up with a solution, Wei-gongzi, and for that I thank you. Even if we are not able to solve the next stage, being able to see my loved ones is worthwhile.”

Wei Wuxian could learn to hate that word.

“I have a solution, of a sort,” he said, irritated and not entirely because his reveal had been preempted. He’d hoped to sort of ease into it, somehow. “You lack the capacity for regular cultivation, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use demonic cultivation.”

“What? No, we can’t do that,” Nie Huaisang said, biting his fingers anxiously. “Anyway, doesn’t demonic cultivation harm the temperament?”

“You mean my temperament can get worse?” Nie Mingjue teased, and Nie Huaisang smacked him so lightly that it didn’t even displace his clothing. “I don’t know any means of demonic cultivation, Wei-gongzi –”

“Call me Wei Wuxian,” Wei Wuxian said. “Please.”

“Wei Wuxian, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “All the methods I’ve ever heard of were forbidden for very good reasons – but perhaps those conditions are not the same in the method you know.”

Wei Wuxian tensed. “How do you know that I know one?”

“You saved me, didn’t you?” Nie Mingjue said practically, and well, yes, Wei Wuxian supposed he had a point – “And anyway, Baxia can tell.”

Wei Wuxian shivered. “I don’t use it,” he argued. “How can she tell?”

At Nie Huaisang’s instigation, Baxia had recently started experimenting with smiles. She put one on her face now.

It was terrifying.

“Tell me about it,” Nie Mingjue requested. “The powers and the price, all of it.”

“You’re actually considering this?” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “But da-ge…!”

“Wei Wuxian was not wrong when he said that I would die if I didn’t find a way to cultivate despite having given up what I have,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I die, what will you do?”

Oh, not much, just become a mastermind capable of puppeting the entire cultivation world to enact revenge for your death. Nothing big.

“But – da-ge has always put such a priority on remaining on the righteous path…”

“That’s why I asked about the costs,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “I will not abandon righteousness simply because I adopt a new method of cultivating.”

“Everyone will revile you even if you are righteous,” Wei Wuxian warned him.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Who is everyone? What do I care for them? You do the right thing because it is right, not for the sake of fame.”

Wei Wuxian had once thought the same.

“If everyone in the cultivation world thinks you are evil, they will paint you as evil no matter what you do,” he insisted. “No matter how righteous your motives –”

“Let them think he’s evil, then!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “He could be the most black-hearted cultivator in the land, but he’s still my da-ge; my Nie sect and I will protect him!”

“Huaisang! No! That is not how righteousness works – if I ever truly become evil, you are to cut me off at once, kill me if necessary –”

“No way!”

“Huaisang – Baxia, tell him; evil cannot be endured –”

Baxia was looking at her fingernails. She’d picked that gesture up from Sect Leader Ouyang, when he was trying to be pointed about ignoring someone; it was extremely irritating to absolutely everyone who wanted to know who she was and what she was doing here and Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had teamed up to convince her to keep doing it.

Possibly a mistake, in retrospect.

“Baxia. I know you agree with me on this. Evil is evil, and must be eradicated no matter who it may be.”

She gave him an unimpressed look.

“I know I’m not evil yet,” Nie Mingjue argued, apparently understanding her without any difficulty whatsoever. He’d just woken up from a month-long coma and he could already speak fluent human-saber, it was really unfair. And this man had succumbed to Jin Guangyao’s wiles? Lan Xichen had more to answer for than he knew. “But if I ever become evil – what? No, we will not burn that bridge when we come to it, that’s not even the right idiom, who is teaching you these things –”

Nie Huaisang coughed and hid his face behind a fan.

Wei Wuxian was not going to laugh.

Nie Mingjue growled at them all and turned back to Wei Wuxian. “Explain,” he demanded. “The rest of you, out.”

“But –”

“Out. One of us has to cultivate the righteous path, and if it can’t be me, it has to be you. Baxia?”

She picked Nie Huaisang up by his collar, for all the world like a mother dog picking up her pup by the scruff of its neck, and walked out.

Nie Mingjue picked up demonic cultivation faster than anyone else Wei Wuxian had ever met or even heard of. He wasn’t sure if that demonstrated an unnerving aptitude or if it was simply that Nie Mingjue was surpassingly talented – Wei Wuxian had never met anyone like himself before, someone for whom all things came easy, and it was an unexpected delight to meet a kindred soul somewhere where he’d long ago given up hope. He’d never planned to unveil demonic cultivation in this life unless he truly needed it – he didn’t want to hurt his Lan Zhan the way he had in his first life, and anyway Jiang Cheng and Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu were all alive, with hundreds of Jiang sect members to boot, there was no need for his sacrifice – but the part of him that was more researcher and inventor than cultivator luxuriated in their discussions.

Nie Mingjue was a lot more concerned than Wei Wuxian had ever been with consequences, and how to mitigate them, but he supposed that made sense: losing his cultivation hadn’t impacted that Nie temper one bit, and demonic cultivation was likely to make things worse. Moreover, Nie Mingjue was simply who he was, stiff and unbending, as much steel in his spine as in Baxia’s; he could almost be described as being rigid in his thinking except for the fact that he was in fact seriously considering becoming a demonic cultivator.

“We’re saber cultivators,” Nie Mingjue said when Wei Wuxian tentatively brought it up. “Like a saber, our nature is to be firm and unyielding, not flexible like the sword, but we cannot allow ourselves to become too rigid – a too-rigid saber will break upon encountering an obstacle. It’s a difficult balance to keep, and one made more difficult by our cultivation style.”

“The demonic cultivation aspects, you mean? Using yao to refine your saber spirit?”

“One day, though not today, I’m going to ask you how you know about that,” Nie Mingjue remarked, and although his tone was causal Wei Wuxian’s back went cold. “And I’ll expect you to tell me the truth when I do. But not today. Anyway, yes, that’s what I mean. Do you know what they mean when they say that demonic cultivation harms the temperament?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated. “I assume you’re going to tell me something other than ‘it drives you crazy and makes you kill people’?”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “Sometimes I wonder how someone as smart as you got sent home before you finished your lessons at the Cloud Recesses, but other times it’s fairly obvious.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged, embarrassed.

“Do you really not know?”

“No one taught this to me,” Wei Wuxian said, stung. “I came up with it on my own. How would I know?”

“All demonic cultivation has the same root,” Nie Mingjue said. “Obsession.”

“With killing, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it a million times –”

“Shut up and listen, you impertinent brat. The killing comes later. It starts with obsession. Obsession with righteousness, obsession with love, obsession with the pleasures of this world, with power – a human becomes a demon when they cannot overcome the obsessions within their heart, and the obsession consumes them. In time, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with power will do whatever it takes to obtain that power, and not mind the blood shed to do it; a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with love will kill everyone who they perceive stands between them and their love, a demonic cultivator who is obsessed with righteousness will turn to murder when in their judgment something that ought to be condemned goes unpunished…”

“What about one who only wants what’s best for his family?” Wei Wuxian said, and he did not know if the challenge in his voice was about Nie Mingjue’s future or his own past.

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Two roads that I can see: first, their family turns away from them for what they have become and they become vicious with the abandonment, becoming quick to lash out against the world and eventually doing something that causes the world to turn against them.  Second, their family stands by them, and eventually the world causes some harm to them – and the demonic cultivator turns to madness in revenge.”

“Not exactly an optimistic outlook.”

“Not especially, no.”

“You don’t seem as concerned by that as I would have thought.”

Nie Mingjue’s lips twitched. “I have a solution.”

“Would you like to share?”

“Using resentful energy to cultivate our sabers makes them prone to obsession, driving them ceaselessly to fight evil, destroy it, without discrimination. It makes them stronger, but also more dangerous – and that is why they must be carefully controlled.”

Wei Wuxian frowned. “So, what? You’re going to be the saber now? Under whose control?”

“Huaisang’s, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious. “For better or for worse, he is sect leader now. Who else would it be?”

“But – what if you disagree? What if he wants to do things one way, and you another –”

“Then I argue and probably yell a lot, and if in the end he still insists on doing things his way, I listen,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “That’s how hierarchy works. Isn’t it the same for you? When your shidi, Jiang Cheng, becomes sect leader, you’ll need to listen to him – or leave the sect. There’s no middle ground.”

Wei Wuxian scowled.

“A sect leader that can’t control his disciples is worse than a demonic cultivator,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s weak. A target, ripe to be ripped apart and devoured by other sects – resources raided, disciples poached, responsibilities taken away...It’s not a fate I would wish on anyone. If you can’t commit to obeying, commit to leaving so that you don’t end up promising more than you can give.”

Ouch.

Just – ouch.

Great advice, fantastic advice, world-class advice, and totally useless because Jiang Cheng had travelled back in time with him and was therefore convinced that Wei Wuxian was just looking for the first way out of the Jiang sect he could find, no matter what Wei Wuxian said or did about it.

(Even Madame Yu was concerned by the new coldness in their relationship and had tried to talk to him about it, which – Wei Wuxian didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t match any of what he had thought he’d understood.)

He decided to focus back in on the demonic cultivation lessons, shifting from theoretical discussions to the practical, and that, unfortunately, was when they encountered an issue.

“What do you mean you can’t play an instrument?” Wei Wuxian demanded, appalled. “It’s one of the Six Arts! Everyone can play some sort of instrument – even Nie Huaisang plays an instrument!”

“Everyone agreed it was better that I stop learning,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. “It’s all just plucking on strings or blowing air in pipes, and yet no matter that I did exactly what the teacher said to do, it never worked, that’s all.”

“Didn’t Zewu-jun offer to teach you…?”

“He did. And then he said it would be better if we stopped, too.”

The reason, Wei Wuxian soon learned, was that Nie Mingjue was almost completely tone deaf, and the only reason it was almost was that he was still capable of differentiating speech.

“I agree with the majority,” he said after an extremely frustrating day. “Stop. Never pick up an instrument ever again. And don’t let anyone but Zewu-jun play something especially for you, either, okay? Even if they’re highly recommended.”

“An interesting request,” Nie Mingjue said, eyebrows arched skeptically. “May I ask why?”

“Because you’ll have no idea if they’ve changed the music on you,” Wei Wuxian said bluntly. A great deal about the man’s murder in a different life made sense now, and Jin Guangyao’s brilliance in hiding the score of Turmoil inside of Clarity was a little less impressive when played to a man who thought all music, without exception, was just plucking strings or blowing air. “Musical cultivation is deadly in the right hands, especially if you lower your defenses against it. Just consider it a precaution.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows remained arched, but he hummed in agreement.

“I guess we’ll have to think of a new way for you to cultivate demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing his face. He had not been planning on having to invent demonic cultivation at all in this life, and now he needed to not only ‘invent’ the original but actually come up with something new. Why was his life so hard? “How did you previously manipulate external energy?”

“With Baxia.”

“Well, that’s not helpful, is it? You can’t wield a human being. Perhaps another saber…?”

That didn’t work, primarily because it turned out that Baxia had strong feelings about Nie Mingjue even thinking about using another saber and well, as far as Wei Wuxian was concerned, whatever Baxia wanted, Baxia got.

(Nie Huaisang had had to go to Heijan once, with Wei Wuxian and Baxia accompanying him since Nie Mingjue wasn’t ready yet, and some unlucky Wen captain had tried to ambush them. That captain, and his squad, were not granted the courtesy of an intact corpse, and Baxia hadn’t even gotten a speck of blood on her nice new robes – no, Wei Wuxian would not be crossing Baxia any time soon.)

“There’s got to be something,” Wei Wuxian said, and Nie Mingjue agreed, and in the end they found something.

Nie Mingjue had been absent-mindedly playing around with one of Nie Huaisang’s fans when one of the fierce corpses Wei Wuxian had raised as practice targets had gotten loose; instinct had taken over and Nie Mingjue had lashed out with the weapon at hand as if it were a saber, and the resentful energy had surged in response –

Baxia was apparently not threatened by the notion of her master using a fan as a weapon, not even one inlaid with steel and heavy cloth with enough layers to catch a sword in.

(If Wei Wuxian needed to go have some time to himself at the sight of Nie Huaisang, dressed as a sect leader with his saber always at his side, standing next to Nie Mingjue holding a fan – well, that was his problem, and also one he intended to show to Jiang Cheng at the next possible opportunity. Someone else deserved to have their mind wrecked by the incongruity as much as he had.)

Even without the weirdness of Nie Mingjue, it was more than a little odd to see Nie Huaisang in the robes of a sect leader without him acting like the Head-shaker. The shock of having to become sect leader had fallen heavily on him: he had become a little more serious, a little more earnest (though still a bit frivolous); he was more inclined to listen and think things over, less inclined to run away.

“If da-ge is going to become a demonic cultivator, someone needs to stand behind him,” Nie Huaisang said simply when Wei Wuxian had tried probing. “He’s always held the world up for me – it’s the least I can do for him. I may not be able to do much, I might be terrible at it, but I owe it to him to at least try.”

Wei Wuxian wondered, sometimes, if Jiang Cheng would have stood up for him if only he had trusted in him, believed in him, the way Nie Mingjue believed in his notoriously useless little brother.

Maybe he’d ask, when he went back to the Jiang sect.

Maybe he’d –

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Jiang Cheng said as a greeting, and for once Uncle Jiang didn’t disagree. “All those letters and you never once mentioned the terrors?”

“The what,” Wei Wuxian said, and that was how he learned that while he was on his way back to Yunmeng neither Baxia nor Nie Mingjue had wasted any time utilizing their newfound skills out on the battlefield.

Nie Huaisang was never going to be a particularly respected sect leader, especially by those that had met him beforehand, but evidently that wasn’t really important given that he was constantly flanked by what was being called the two terrors of Qinghe.

Nie Mingjue preferred darker colors now that he was no longer sect leader, the same dark grey shading towards black that Baxia had selected for herself, and the selection somehow made him seem even taller, verging on inhuman, and Baxia standing beside him, her human features patterned roughly after his, made the two of them appear a matched set. Nie Mingjue wielded the fan that Wei Wuxian had helped him design, which he had forged with his own hands out of the metal from the Xuanwu’s cave that Wei Wuxian had foolishly figured someone ought to get some use out of, painted over with a cinnabar array in Nie Huaisang’s careful brushstrokes, and in his hands it was both weapon and conduit for the raising of armies of corpses. Baxia, for her part, held nothing but required nothing, a sweeping gesture of her hand more devastating than a dozen blows with the saber.

They were terrifying, a nightmare writ large and unmistakably dangerous, undeniably demonic cultivators in a way that was entirely different from Wei Wuxian’s own dramatics, and it unnerved the rest of the cultivation world the way Wei Wuxian had feared it would.

“It won’t be a problem,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently. “The Nie sect are ascending in strength, and this only adds to their mystique – who would challenge them?”

“Uh, Jin Guangshan,” Wei Wuxian said. “Like last time?”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “At this rate, I don’t even think Jin Guangyao will bother defecting to the Jin sect,” he said. “Not if he knows how to play his cards right. The Nie sect’s strength in the original version was never about Chifeng-zun’s skill with the blade alone. It was the whole sect’s strength, with Chifeng-zun’s ability to wield them as skillfully as he did his saber; he’s an outstanding general. And now they have him as a general, him as a demonic cultivator, and whatever the fuck is going on with Lady Baxia –”

“I already told you. She’s a guai.”

“Like I already told you, it doesn’t matter how many times you say that, I will immediately expel the knowledge from my mind and you should too. ‘Immortal cultivator cousin that my brother named his saber after’, like what Nie Huaisang has been putting about, is a perfectly acceptable cover story.”

“And the fact that his saber disappeared at the same time?”

“Coincidence,” Jiang Cheng said firmly. “And we’re sticking with that. Anyway, the point is that if you’re an ambitious man, the Nie sect is the place to be right now and probably will continue to be in the future. This is going to be evident to both Jin Guangshan and the future Jin Guangyao, and we’ll need to deal with that.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Wei Wuxian promised. “After rescuing Chifeng-zun and helping with the demonic cultivation, I’ve gotten pretty close to them.”

“Mm. And how about your other mission?”

Wei Wuxian scowled at the smirk on Jiang Cheng’s face. “You know perfectly well that I haven’t had any time to seduce Lan Wangji, what with how busy I’ve been. I don’t even know for sure if he likes me yet -!”

“You’re an idiot, he does, and you’re not allowed to keep us all in suspense for two decades this time. Figure it out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sticking you with the job of being an information courier and you leave for the Lan sect front line tomorrow.”

“You are the best shidi ever,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it.

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Yeah, well,” he said as if his cheeks weren’t red. “Remember that in the future. In this life we’re the Twin Heroes, you hear me? No take-backs.”

Nie Mingjue was right: Wei Wuxian would need to either learn to obey or tell Jiang Cheng early on that he was leaving, and walking a path in the middle would only cause heartbreak all over again.

“Okay,” he said, deciding to ask Lan Wangji for advice on obedience. Surely that was something that could be learned? “Deal. You do know that that means Lan Wangji’s going to have to marry in, right?”

“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng said, voice entirely flat. “How terrible. I’ll find a way to manage dealing with that ice block somehow…listen, I don’t care if you end up calling him Wei Sizhui in this life, but don’t ruin his character. He was perfectly nice.”

“I don’t know if he’s even been born yet,” Wei Wuxian said glumly. “I’ve been looking, but…”

“I’ve asked some of Mother’s spies to keep track of Wen Ning and Wen Qing,” Jiang Cheng said. “Collecting evidence we’ll need for their inevitable post-war trial, assuming we want them to live better lives than just refugees. Give it time, we’ll find him.”

“Now I just need to see if Lan Wangji will want to raise children with me…”

“Wei Wuxian. I don’t care. Go.”

[gohyuck]

↠ na jaemin; assassin in florence, italy, year 1469

the brotherhood: guide

pairing: assassin!na jaemin x renaissance artist!reader; based on assassin’s creed

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive (explicit allusions to sex)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: minor characters die, excessive overuse of the term “my love”

“i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” - sarah williams

↳ personality: he’s flirtatious, almost too flirtatious, as he walks through the streets of florence, decked in the beautiful and extravagant cloths of italian nobility; you don’t mind it, though, not when he pulls you from your fruit stall in the central market and into a neighboring alleyway to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, tugging your own, coarser neckline down to access the skin he wants to nip at. there’s a tiny hole at your waist where your skirt starts, one you haven’t mended yet, and he doesn’t fail to exploit it, placing his thumb against your skin to rub circles into it as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

there’s something arrogant, but bearable, about the way he carries himself. he’s boisterous, impossible to ignore when out with others. you’re dragged along to lavish parties, draped in dresses he gets specially made for you, even if it’s a life you’re unused to. still, with jaemin, you’re the center of every party. though people whisper about you - how you do not belong to any family, how you stay alone and all by yourself - their badly hidden passing glances bounce off of you when you’re with jaemin.

sometimes, he’s loud even when you’re alone with him, vocal in his pleasure as he forces you deeper, deeper into his mattress, which is a luxury you yourself cannot afford. you firmly believe that he’s the most beautiful in these moments - bare in front of you, larger than life and still so very human all at once. you run your fingers over his collarbones to ground you as your eyes roll back into your head, his own grunts and gentle, loving words muffled against your neck. 

other times when you’re alone with him, though, in the little space of your home that you use as a makeshift studio, he’s quiet. jaemin insists on sitting crosslegged in the corner, elbow on his knee and chin in his palm, as he watches you paint. sometimes it’s a sunset, dazzling against the open sky. sometimes it’s a bird you’d seen while peddling your foodstuff. often, it’s jaemin himself - his eyes, especially. there’s something playful but serious, sweet but cunning about them. he’s not one to hide his feelings, but his eyes tell stories nobody else will ever get from his mouth. you always make sure to listen. 

↳ origin: you’re forced to watch from the back of the crowd and through a flurry of tears, hand over your mouth and shoulders shaking, as jaemin’s brothers and father are hanged in the center of town, not a stone’s throw away from where your stall usually operates. jaemin himself is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn’t stop worry from pricking at the back of your mind - could they be torturing him extra? the florence nobility are ruthless, even amongst themselves, and you don’t even know what the na’s had done to deserve such a cruel end.

jaemin’s mother had died years ago. he is now all alone in this world. you may be the only soul he has left.

still, even as the bodies are cut down and thrown carelessly into an awaiting cart, you know that you can’t go looking for jaemin. he will come to you when he’s ready, if he’s ever ready. you pray that he’ll be ready.

you sit at home, and you wait. 

he drops in through your window that night, scaling your walls by moonlight. jaemin is stoic, silent, and that’s how you know that something, everything is wrong. the air around him is still, and for the first time since you’ve known and loved him, you feel almost suffocated. he has a hood drawn over his head, nowhere near as rich or flashy as the clothing you’re used to seeing him in, and you can just make out glinting metal against his clothes and skin.

you have no time to ask anything, no time to get out a word. he forces what looks like a document - you later find that it’s a letter to you - into your hands before pressing a quick, chaste kiss that holds more meaning than you want it to to your lips. you can’t even move and reach out to touch him before he’s gone, back out the window he’d come through.

in your disarray, something on the document catches your eye, drawing your eyes down towards it.

discard after reading is scrawled on top of the folded parchment.

↳ i have loved the stars too fondly...: you gather up the rainwater from the storm that night in the closest thing to a small tub you have. as you thoroughly soak the paper - tear-stained, already, as it is - running it under the water over and over again as the words into the paper and all of it dissolves into a mushy, inky mess that falls apart in your fingers, you can’t help but wonder why it’s your life that is like this, why it’s your jaemin that must face this. 

the words swim before your eyes, running through your mind even as you destroy them.

my father was hanged as he discovered a plot to... displace the medici family, he’d written. the very people he trusted with his knowledge were the ones that had the ropes tied to his neck. i must go - it is no longer safe here for me. more importantly, i must go so they do not come for you. i must go, and train for revenge. you deserve much more than a killer. 

the paper is practically destroyed by now, the water entirely murky and a grayish color. still, you continue kneading whatever you can grasp, if only to maintain the little composure you have left. 

i will not be back for a long, long time, my love. i should not even be telling you of this, but i have business to attend to far, far away from florence. it is not business you need to find yourself a part of. i will pray nightly that you do not find yourself a part of this aspect of my life. i know you will want to be with me, to care for me, but the best thing you can do for me is live without me. you let out a small whimper as you go over the letter, again and again and again, in your mind’s eye. whatever ‘aspect of his life’ he was talking about is consuming him, you know it because you know jaemin. it’s possible - too possible - that he is no longer a part of your life and that you are no longer a part of his. 

you are all that i have left. i cannot promise you much, but if i can promise you anything, it is that i will keep you safe. be well, my love, my adoration, my flower. apple of my eye. be well for the both of us. 

forever yours through distance and through time, 

jaemin, house of na 

you don’t quite want to part with the letter, knowing full well that it may be the last thing you ever get from the love of your life. still, you know you must kill the fact of its existence somehow. the next morning, you throw the leftover papery mush out with the rotting old fruits that remain at your stand after a full day of selling. you ignore the way your hands tremble, the way you wipe your hands hastily on your skirt to be done with the whole affair.

you use the inky water as paint, sheer and gray against your canvas. thicker paint goes on top of it as if to hide your bare soul, your truths, your sins, and though your days are far emptier than they had been, once, you find some respite in your art.

you paint jaemin with the words he’d written specially for you. it takes months, twisting itself into a project with a scale unprecedented to you. you paint a larger-than-life portrait of his face, his hand holding a bitten-into peach - it was meant to be an apple, though you’d miscolored the inside of it - against his thin lips. there’s boredom in his eyes, something you’d never truly seen in them in person. if you give his eyes the feelings you remember seeing reflected in them, you think that you’ll break for good.

the painting of jaemin becomes a symbol of your compartmentalization. 

in the mornings and throughout your days, you’re the same fruit vendor you’ve been for ages, trading whatever is in season for much-needed money or amenities. you give children free apples when they run up to you, chat easily with the woman who sells bread right next to you. all is well. 

in the evenings, you speak to the painting. it’s no substitute for the real man - jaemin, your jaemin, always responded to your woes by pulling you close and holding you closer - but at least the artwork can’t be made to leave you. you have no anger towards your love - not when you know why he had to go, not when you’d witnessed the gruesome deaths of his family members - but you do have a never-ending sadness. you tell it of your day, of how you grit your teeth subconsciously when you see the people who’d caused the real jaemin to leave. you speak of the things you would’ve painted in your life before what you’ve mentally dubbed The Departure - there was a young child who looked so angelic in the sunlight this morning, a droplet of water against an old man’s beard. your fingers twitch when you speak of creating art, but you make no move to actually do so. you have a feeling you’ve already created your magnum opus.

the nights are the hardest. no matter how hard you try, you cannot escape them - the dreams. flashes of jaemin’s bright smile, snippets of his teasing laughter, soundbytes of his voice against the side of your face as his lips brush against your earlobe, they all haunt you. the feeling of his fingers dragging across your jawline, running down your side, pushing into you as he stares into your eyes with all the love in the world pooled in his own. no matter what you do - covering the painting before going to sleep, switching positions, sleeping fully clothed - you cannot get them to stop.

you ignore the fact that you don’t really want them to.

↳ ...to be fearful of the night.: in the end, over a full year later, it’s your evenings that get you. 

there’s not much of an explanation to be gleaned from the men that barge into your living quarters, pull you up from your bed, and tie your wrists together. you’re too harried to make out what they’re saying, but you’re present enough to realize that the painting isn’t covered. 

jaemin had been a member of one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in florence once. most everyone knows his face. 

you don’t struggle - you can’t, really, but you refuse to even make an effort - because you find no reason. you feel fear, great fear, yes, but there’s nothing you can do about it. from the snippets of harsh conversation that float around you between the men who are twisting your arms, you realize that someone must have heard you speaking to the painting, referring to it as your lost love, not long ago. 

you’d never closed the makeshift shutters of your one window in the hope that, someday, jaemin would climb through them again. 

before you know it, you’re tossed into a prison cell, wrists raw from rope chafing but finally untied nonetheless. to your surprise, you’re confined alone. this realization almost makes you laugh.

you’re a vip - very important prisoner. 

you hope your death is worth it for whatever greater good is out there. 

↳ full circle: they decide to hang you at night, under the stars of the city that’s given you so much and taken so much from you. you’re glad - you don’t want an audience to witness your end. you wonder if you’ll join jaemin in the afterlife, or if he’ll join you. 

the bag is already over your head and the rope is being placed around your neck by coarse hands that crush purposefully against your windpipe when it happens. 

a soft thwack, followed by another, and then two low groans and drawn out gurgles. the pressure against your throat lets up, but you don’t hang. the box underneath your feet remains there. your hands are still tied behind your back, and the itchy bag remains pressing against the skin of your face, but you’re still alive.

why are you still alive?

before you can try to figure out what’s happening around you, someone’s soft breath appears against your neck, and nimble fingers work at pulling the noose off of you and undoing the ropes around your wrists. the bag is lifted last, and your heart jumps to your throat. 

although it’s what you’ve been waiting for for all this time, you’re still shaken at seeing jaemin in front of you in all his rugged glory. 

he sets his hands on your waist, pulling you off of the box and into his arms at once. although his white robes feel foreign against your skin as you burrow your face into his chest, he still smells the same. the way his hands trek over your back is the same, the way you feel in his arms is the same. you’re overcome, overwhelmed with emotion, and judging by the steel grip he has on you, jaemin feels the same. 

“how did you know?” you manage to ask, voice tight with nerves as you survey him and he surveys you. he doesn’t seem to expect you to be afraid; he’s unperturbed by your lack of hysteria. out of your periphery, you can see that the two men who were fated to kill you are now dead, crossbow arrows piercing through both of their throats. you assume the arrows had come from the gauntlet that adorns jaemin’s hand, though you don’t voice this out loud. he smiles down at you - a genuine smile, one that leaks into his eyes - and you realize that he’ll never tell you. 

he’s so different from the man you fell in love with, yet he is still so much of the same. 

“i’m here to stay, my love, at least to leave my roots here. the danger that forced me to leave no longer exists.” he finally speaks, deflecting your question as you knew he would. jaemin takes one of your hands in one of his, and your fingers trace over the rough callouses of his palms as if it’s second nature. you hear his breath hitch at this, and you realize how likely it is that, whatever he’s been doing, he hasn’t felt the touch of someone that truly loves him in a long, long time. 

“even if you leave, you’ll come back, right, my love?” you ask, startling yourself with how your voice wavers at the prospect. the moon illuminates jaemin’s face as he raises a hand to cup your cheek, tracing a thumb against your cheekbone. it comes back wet, and you realize that, sometime in between seeing him for the first time in so long and now, you’ve begun crying. he nods, belatedly answering your question. 

“you know,” he starts, and you realize that tears are pricking at the corners of his eyes, too. still, you’re more drawn to the way his lips quirk up. “i always liked to see you cry. for different reasons, of course.”

the tension in the air is not broken entirely, but with his in-character quip, jaemin eases both of you into being around each other again. you smack a hand against his sturdy chest indignantly, though you can’t help the grin that splits your face in half. 

“you’re utterly indecent,” you claim as you both finally step off of the base of the gallows. he pulls you into the shadows almost immediately, placing his arm around your shoulders and practically attaching you to his side as he does. his body language screams that he’s worried, but he still cracks a smile at your response. jaemin leans in, his lips brushing your ear. 

“take me back to your home and i’ll show you how utterly indecent i can be.” he whispers, and the smirk is audible in his words. as the moon begins illuminating your world and jaemin’s brilliant grin outshines it, you can’t help but think one thing.

maybe everything will be alright, after all. 

[redhawtriot]

Shinsou Shits (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Well, I fucking watched the Heroes Rising Movie today and just when I thought that I couldn’t love the feral ass Bakugou more than I already do—

BAM!!

Straight in the feels.

Also, Thank you so much anon for requesting this and appreciating my writing! PS I totally outed myself as a person with random ass ships in this peice LOL

HnM💕

Hey I’m big fan of ur writing and I have request for Baku x f!reader prompts : 4 and 5 pls: “I really don’t think children are in my future.” “Well… that was almost cute.”

Bakugou and you were on what you liked to call the “Shinsou Shits” duty—the painstaking chore that you and your friends often drew lots, or played “rock, paper, scissors”, or “nose goes”, or performed some other desperate measure to get out of doing.

You loved Mina and Shinsou to death—and would happily take a bullet for either one of them; however, this type of cruel and usual punishment could have even the strongest of wills wishing to bite the bullet.

“Why are ya’ talkin’ to the air, weirdo? There is nothing there, you know,” little Kanjo Shinsou sneered at the scared boy from atop the playground slide. His wild, purple mane crowded to one side as he tilted his head into a questioning glance.

The terrified boy under fire clenched his shaky fists, “Y-yes there is… you’re there!” he threw a quivering finger toward the other side of the playset where another Shinsou was approaching the group. A devilish flare emitted from his golden irises as he neared with a smirk.

Kanjo didn’t even bother throwing a glance toward his twin brother as he chastised the little boy, “How am I there, if I am here, stupid?”

“T-there must be two of you!” the little boy squeaked as his eyes flew back and forth from the brothers.

“Two of me?! Ha!” The younger twin, Kaijou Shinsou threw his little body upon the slide to sit next to his brother on the tube, “Did ya’ hit your head this morning, or somethin’?”

The two boys gave eerily synchronized giggles as they both looked down upon the frightened boy.

“HEY!” you frantically called out from across the park, “Kaijo! Kanjo! Get down off of there right now!! You’re gonna fall!” you desperately pleaded.

Kaijo’s voice was the first to squeak up “We won’t fall, Auntie!” his face fell into an annoyed expression as he turned away from you. His aunt, Y/N just had to ruin all the fun and call them both out by their names.

“You could always come make us get down!” Kanjo teased before sticking his tongue out at you. Your eyes instantly narrowed into sharp slits. Never have you wanted to violently snatch somebody by the tongue so badly.

Kaijo seemed to be rallied up by his bother’s bravado, “Yeah, come and get us!” he sang, his black encrusted eyes darting to his older twin for approval.

All of a sudden you heard a series of explosions go off, before the flash image of your husband flew past you— rocketing toward the top of the playset, “LISTEN TO YOUR ELDERS, YOU DAMN BRATS!”

The children hardly had anytime to react at all—let alone scream— as Bakugou grabbed the both of them by the backs of their shirts and yanked them from the top of the slide. The man plopped the two kids onto the sand at the foot of the playset on their bottoms, “Now, don’t get up there again, or else,” he glowered over them.

The two children looked absolutely terrified, “Y-Yes, sir.” “Yes, Uncle Bakugou!”

Of course as, soon as Bakugou turned his back to walk back toward the park bench where you were sitting, the twins’ respectful demeanors had already fully melted away, replaced by their usual plotting smirks, and soon enough they were already on their way to torturing another kid.

You stood in awe as you watched Bakugou proudly march back toward the park bench that the two of you had claimed for the evening, “Wow. I wish they listened to me like that,” you breathed before plopping yourself back down onto the bench.

“You just have to show ‘em who’s in charge,” Bakugou replied with a small, pleased smirk, “Better yet, I should have just let the little shits fall down. Maybe then they’d learn their lesson,” he crossed his arms as he sat down next to you on the bench. You noticed that he scooted himself a bit closer to you after realizing that he was a little too far.

“Jesus, Katsuki. They are just four years old!” You argued with a laugh. The man only scoffed in return as his face hardened into a glare at the playground. Suddenly something caught his attention again at the top of the tall tube slide—two somethings to be exact.

“HEY!” He loudly barked, causing the twins to jump a little on top of the tall playset. Your heart fell down to your toes as you noticed little Kaijo loose his balance on top of the tube.

“I THOUGHT WE TOLD YOU TO GET—”

Kaijo’s small body suddenly fell down to the bottom of the playground wih a loud ‘thud’ as the sand aggressively displaced itself around him.

“KAIJO!!” both you and Bakugou were already on your feet; however, it was Kanjo, who reached his brother first as he desperately slid down the pole of the playset,

“Kaijo!” he quickly reached down and hugged his brother into up into a sitting position, “Are you okay, ‘bwuther’?”

Kaijo’s yellow irises, seemed to be a little dazed until he shook his head, sand flying out from his messy, purple mane as he refocused his mind, “Y-yeah, I’m okay!” he smiled brightly, leaving you to give a deep sigh of relief. Suddenly, your heart was filled with pride as the older twin helped his younger brother up and began dusting the sand off of him.

“Awh…” you leaned up against Bakugou to ingest the touching moment as a sweet smile graced your expression.

Suddenly an evil glare reappered within Kanjo’s eyes, “Let’s go put sand in that girl’s doll’s head!”

“Woah! You’re so smart Kanjo! You have the bestest ideas!” Kaijo gave a gleeful laugh, before the two ran off toward the swing set to meet their next pig-tailed victim.

“Well, That was almost cute…” you grimaced as Bakugou angrily marched to catch up with the two menaces. He swiftly redirected their schemes toward something less sadistic and returned to you back on the bench not too long afterward.

You gave a deep sigh, “You’re such a natural, babe. But me? They don’t even take me seriously at all. Even just watching you do all of the babysitting is tiring. Jeeze, I… I really don’t think children are in my future,” you frowned as Bakugou’s eyebrows fell even deeper together.

“Shuddup,” he exclaimed as he threw an arm behind your shoudlers to rest on the back of the bench, “You’re gonna be a great mother.”

As soon as the words left this mouth your heart squeezed into your throat, “W-what…?” the two of you had never even mentioned having kids… ever! What did he mean you were going to be a great mother? He wasn’t planning on leaving you or something was he??

“You got sand in your ears, too? I said you’ll be a great mom,” he repeated as his gaze stayed fixated on the Shinsou twins on the see-saw, “Our kids won’t be as terrible as these brats though.” He decided.

The two of you sat in a thick silence for a few beats before you found the courage to speak up, “I didn’t know you wanted kids, Katsuki,” you half-whispered as your throat was still constricted from the shock of his words.

Suddenly, your husband turned his head so that his gaze could meet yours. The setting, evening sun ignited even the slightest embers in his warm, crimson eyes. They seemed to be scanning you up and down as if he were searching for a hidden message in your expression. His eyebrows very seriously furrowed together as he regained heavy eye contact with you, “Of course I want to give you a Bakugou,” his low voice softly reverberated in your ears. His eyes never fell away from yours as he stared at you.

An instense chill fluttered from the base of your neck, down to your toes, back up to your heart  as if it were trying to defribillate your shocked being. C’mon, heart! Work again, dammit!

“OH my GOD!” you gasped as your face flushed into a deep heat, “D-d-don’t say it like that!!” You hid your overwhelmed, flame-filled face in your hands as Bakugou roughly stood up—startled by your suddenly stunned aura.

“WHAT?! Say it like what?! How the fuck else am I supposed to say it?!”

Kaijo and Kanjo Shinsou: the sons of Mina Ashido and Hitoshi Shinsou. Quirk: Acid Trip: they can use the vapors of the acid secreted from their palms to selectively alter the mind state of their opponents. Their vapors give off a severe, disorienting psychedelic propertythat leaves their opponents easy to influence. My OCs from a lil “next gen” project I’m workin on.

[heraldofzaun]

14. the timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon.

a slightly altered timeline. - 14. the timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon.

It isn't right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

Viktor doesn’t storm into Professor Pididly’s office, doesn’t yell or shout or scream. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this. There has to be a reason for why the news this morning says that Blitzcrank’s revolutionary learning processes were created by Dr. Stanwick Pididly, and not the team of students that he was advising. Not Viktor. Something was misinterpreted, assuredly - the press does it all the time.

Professor Pididly - Stanwick, to his advisees - rises from his desk. He looks calm, maybe even apologetic, although Viktor isn’t sure.

“I assume you saw the news, then.”

“I did,“ Viktor says flatly. One of his hands is worrying at the hem of his sweater. “...What happened?”

“It’s a necessary evil,” Stanwick replies with a sympathetic frown. He steps closer. “If the public knew what we did - that you’re really the brains behind all of this, and I’ve just helped with the organization and funding - you’d be snapped up by a research lab even before your graduation ceremony.”

“That is not a bad thing...” Is it? It can’t be. That’s what he wants for his future.

“Oh, I’m sure it’d be just wonderful in Piltover. Everyone on that side of the bay’s all about morals and ethics, even if it means we beat them in everything else.” The professor gives Viktor a sly grin - like most in Zaun, he has no love lost for the shining city to the northwest. “But here? Do you really want to work for the lab that offers you the highest price?”

It’s a valid point, even as something in Viktor’s gut twists. Research is a business first and foremost in almost every case, which means that any company that offers him a lucrative salary wouldn’t be doing it because Blitzcrank was originally meant to be a waste-reclamation robot. They’d be doing it so they’d have another young bright mind working for them, and he’d...

“You’d probably end up working on making more robots like him,” Stanwick continues, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. There’s a small photograph on his desk of himself, Viktor, the rest of the doctoral team, and Blitzcrank. They’d taken it after the chassis had been finished. Viktor had been smiling, something of a rarity in pictures of him. “In the sapience sense. And not just for fields that need them, but...”

Oh. Viktor understands. Robots don’t have to be paid. And now, with the ability that Viktor and his team has - but it’s truthfully just Viktor, he’s the one who spent hours working on what could be termed Blitzcrank’s brain - there’s a way to make robots capable of doing almost anything a human could do. It could be a wonderful future, one where no one has to risk their lives in crowded factories or in crumbling mines, one where people don’t have to labor endlessly, but...

Zaun won’t pay those displaced by this invention. The profits would go to who they always do, this time without even an attempt at wages. People would suffer.

Stanwick seems to catch the look in his eye. “I imagine we came to the same conclusion. But there’s a way out of this - I’ll take the credit for some time, while you gain standing and money in the field. Then you can break away, I’ll tell the world exactly who came up with Blitzcrank, and you can start your own lab. I’ll even invest! You’ll be able to work on whatever you’d like, hire whoever you’d like - I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people wanting to work with someone as bright as you - and sell only to places you trust.”

It seems so true. Because Stanwick wouldn’t lie, would he? He’s been nothing but accommodating, even when Viktor’s first and second project ideas had fallen through. Even when his parents had passed. Even when he needed time that the university had hardly wanted to give him. Stanwick wouldn’t lie, and yet...

Viktor’s parents had warned him of people who’d try to take advantage of him. Of people who’d see nothing but a target where his heart is. Of people who’d twist their words around until he’d be all-but-ready to sign away everything for nothing.

But Stanwick wouldn’t do that.

Viktor gives a long, tired sigh. He’s never been good at operating in Zaun. He’s lucky to know someone who is. “I... understand. Will it be a while?”

Stanwick beams. “Just a few years,” he says, and offers his left hand.

They shake on it.

[harrysbbby]

You Belong With Me - Peter Parker x Reader

hey guys, sorry it has taken me so long to upload something new but uni has been killing me so... hope you enjoy!

Based on this request from anon:  A peter parker x reader fic based off the song “you belong with me” by Taylor swift!!

You met Peter Parker when you had moved into your new apartment in Queens, New York. After you and your parents had reappeared from the blip, you discovered that your beloved family home had been inhabited by someone else. Hence you were forced to move into this tiny apartment as it was the only thing the real estate could find you, especially since so many people had been displaced.

You were walking up the stairs, carrying one of your final boxes, listening to your mother trying to convince you that this would be a good thing- you’d be able to start a fresh, make some new friends at your new school. As she reached the last step you saw a woman with long brown hair step to the side.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” your mother said as she peered over the boxes she was carrying. The woman smiled pleasantly.

“No problem whatsoever, darling! Would you like a hand with your boxes?” she asked. Your mother immediately accepted the offer, especially after trudging up and down the stairs all day. The woman grabbed the top box off of your mother and help the two of you into your apartment as she introduced herself.

“I’m May. I live in the apartment next door.” She smiled as she placed the box on top of the others.

“I’m Sandy, and this is my daughter (Y/N).” your mother said, gesturing to you.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” May said. “I think my nephew’s about the same age as you, (Y/N). I’ll see if he can help us with some of your things.”

May moved out into the hallway and opened up their apartment door to call for her nephew.

“Peter! Can you come help me please?” She shouted down the hallway. A few moments later a very attractive boy about your age stepped out in to the hall.

He was very pretty, with a mop of brown hair covering his head and deep brown eyes. You felt your heart skip a beat as he smiled at you and introduced himself.

That was a little over a year ago now. You became good friends, as not only were you neighbours, but you attended the same school. You developed a mild crush on the boy but this dissolved a little after he returned from the school science trip with MJ as his girlfriend. It was a little bit disappointing at first, but you knew the two of them well so you were happy for them. But that’s also why you weren’t surprised when by the end of the summer, they had called off their relationship. There was nothing wrong, just that their goals were both so large that balancing that with a relationship just wasn’t reasonable.

You tried to hide your excitement of the possibility that you and Peter could possibly go out. Over the year and a half or so you had known him you had gotten to know each other really really well. You would study together, meet each other on the fire escape outside both of your windows

He had confided in you about his biggest secret… well accidentally. He had been trying to sneak back into his room via his window when you saw his body, clad in his black and red Spider-Man suit scaling the wall.

He tried to deny it was him at first but he knew you weren’t one to let things pass. So you become someone he could turn to during all of his Spidey escapades.

That’s why it was so surprising when Peter started dating Sally Avril. You would’ve thought that she was… not his type. She was a gymnast, and head cheerleader and very very popular. She was smart, obviously because she went to Midtown, but was never as concerned with her studies as Peter was.

She was however, obsessed with Spider-Man, which made you wonder whether Peter liked her, or liked how she liked his alter ego.

As you sat with your widow slightly ajar, letting the brisk breeze flow into your room on a particularly warm fall evening, you could hear Peter talking sternly on the phone.

He was trying to reason with her- “No it was a Joke! Sal- no I don’t think that of all cheerleaders!”

When Peter has whacked out this particularly hilarious albeit controversial joke at lunch earlier today, you, Ned and MJ had cracked up laughing. Sally had huffed and strutted away from the table, forcing Peter to chase after her.

The laughter died down at the table as you watched the boy desperately try to catch up with his girlfriend. MJ rolled her eyes as she opened the book in front of her.

“She just does not get his sense of humour.”

…

It was a Tuesday night, as you sat on your bed working on your history paper due the next week. Music softly played from your speakers. You nodded your head along to the beat of “The Less I Know The Better” by Tame Impala. Your thoughts went to when you had shown your friends this song during one afternoon study session…

“You’ve never heard of Tame Impala?” you practically screeched, almost offended that your friends hadn’t heard of your favourite band.

“No never. Judging by your reaction that’s bad.” Peter laughed. You smiled at him.

“It’s not bad- you’re just missing out. Here, listen.” You grabbed out your phone, plugging in your headphones so as not to be too disturbing. You handed one to Peter and one to Ned as you pressed play on the song. Ned listened for a while before passing the earbud to MJ.

“Wow this is a good song!” Peter said, passing the headphone to Sally. You smiled at him, heart bursting at the fact he liked your music. Sally’s nose was turned up as she scoffed.

“That song is terrible. You must have tone deaf ears to like this shit.” She rose to her feet, grabbing her things before turning to Peter, “Come on, I’ll drop you home, baby.”

She swiveled in her place before making her way out of the library.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Peter said defeatedly, rushing to catch with her before she drove off without him. You sat back in your chair and sighed. Sally never liked you and was always, seemingly, trying to bring you down.

“Don’t worry about her,” MJ reassured.

“It’s not her I’m worried about.”

…

You heard small tap on your window. Looking up from you paper, you saw Spider-Man perched on your landing. You got up and made your way to the window, yanking it open as the figure took his mask off.

“Peter,” you sighed, “what is it this time?”

“Wow, nice to see you too neighbour,” he laughed as he clamoured, surprisingly uncoordinatedly into your room.

Peter had ‘told’ you about Spider-Man quite early on. Technically you caught him trying to sneak back into his apartment one night, but still, he trusted you, so he told you outright that he was Spider-Man. The two of you spent the rest of that night on the fire escape just talking, him explaining to you what had happened, and you assuring him that you’d always be there if he needed you.

As he went to stand at his full height, he winced and grabbed his ribcage.

“What is it? Did you get hurt?” you asked hurriedly, guiding him to sit atop your desk. You sat in your desk chair, helping him peel his suit off his body.

“Maybe,” he said through gritted teeth. You gasped as you saw this deep bruising on his right side a small ‘shit’ leaving your lips.

“I’ll go get some ice. Stay here an be quiet- my parents are home.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, re-positioning himself on the desk. You return a few minutes later, an ice pack and other medical supplies in hand. You sat on your desk chair and scooted forward as you instructed him to hold the ice to the bruising, using your cloth to clean up a few scratches.

“Why are you here, Peter,” you asked, eyes focused on the work you’re doing. His brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I mean,” you sighed, looking up at you, “why don’t you go to Sally for this kind of stuff. Peter huffed, before shrugging.

“Don’t know, I mean I haven’t even told her about this. I feel safer here,” he smiled at you, “Besides, you said you’d always be there for me.”

You nodded, going back to fixing up the wound you had previously been tending to.

Guess she doesn’t know his story like I do…

You were walking along the hall with Peter, eagerly chatting about a new robotics project you had coming up. Conversations flowed so easily with him. It was like the two of you clicked. You laughed at some stupid joke he said and thought, isn’t this easy? You couldn’t help but think this was how it ought to be. You and him. Not him and-

“Petey!” you heard Sally’s shrill voice echo down the corridor. She strutted up to Peter, heels clicking along the floor, mini skirt flowing in the wind (which you swear wasn’t there, like, who was using a fan in here?), reaching him before planting her gloss-covered lips on top of his.

You looked down at your feet to avoid having to look at them, shuffling your worn-out converse together. They separate and Sally’s shrill voice entered your ears once again.

“I won’t be able to see you tonight, we’ve got cheer tryouts tonight.”

“No worries, first night as cheer captain, how exciting!” Peter said excitedly, although you didn’t feel as though the emotion of his words was truly felt.

“I know!” she shrieked. Her smile dropped as she caught sight of you in her peripheral, almost disgusted that you were in her presence. “Why don’t you try out (Y/N)?” she said condescendingly, arm wrapping tightly around Peter’s shoulder as she pulled him closer.

Your lips form a firm line, as you shook your head slightly. “Sorry, prior commitment. I’m in the band.”

“Shame,” she said bluntly, with no indication that this information made her any kind of sad, “Well at least you’ll still be there I guess, on the bleachers. Anyway, bye babe, text me.” She planted a heavy kiss on Peter’s cheek before sauntering off once again, leaving Peter rubbing the lipstick stain left on his cheek. He smiled, and you felt as if it lit up the whole world…

“Are you okay Peter?” you asked quietly. You had both moved to your bed. You were holding the ice to his chest, giving him a rest so he could loosen his tension.

“Besides nearly being beaten to a pulp? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said nonchalantly. You shook your head and puffed out an exasperated laughed.

“That’s not what I mean.” You sat up in your spot, before shrinking a little after seeing his confused place. “I just, you haven’t been the same since… since you started dating Sally.”

Peter face dropped and you could see his eyes change to between somewhere between mad and caught-out.

“What?” he said sitting up, frustration clear on his face.

“You haven’t been the same Pete!” you tried to reason with him, “Your smile it’s so bright and happy… I haven’t seen it in a while since she’s brought you down.”

Peter scoffed, hopping off your bed and hiking his suit up his body a bit. He walked over to your desk grabbing his mask before making his way to the window.

“I’m fine,” he said defiantly.

“No, you’re not!” your voice growing louder, “I know you better than that! What are you doing with a girl like that?”

“Like what?” he said furiously, “one that likes me? Is nice and pretty and sweet?”

“That’s not what I..” There was eerily silence in your room as the only noise came from the ajar window that Peter had just crawled out of.

You sighed as your bottom lip began to quiver.

You belong with me…

About a week passed and you hadn’t seen Peter. He had been avoiding you in the apartment block and at school. You had also been avoiding him, spending your lunch breaks in the library. It was Friday before you got sick of sitting alone so you joined Ned and MJ at your usual table, Peter nowhere to be seen.

“Hey guys,” you said sitting down at the table.

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” MJ stated. You sighed before asking,

“Where’s Peter?”

“Don’t know,” Ned answered, “he’s been distant, like you. Past couple of days.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. He’s clearly been avoiding you like you have him.

“I mean it isn’t surprising,” MJ stated, still not looking up from her book. She raised her cup of tea to her lips to take a sip. Just as the cup reached her lips she spoke again, “especially since Sally broke up with him or whatever.”

“What!?” you yelled. It gave Ned and MJ a fright, to the point she nearly spilt her tea. “When did this happen?”

“Calm down woman. Some of us enjoy having working ears,” MJ said, delicately placing her tea on the table as to not spill any, “like a few days ago. He’s pretty upset about it. We just assumed you know, and that you had been with him these past couple days…”

She trailed off as she realised this was clearly not the case. You huffed,

“No, I had no idea. We had a pretty big fight at the end of last week and I thought he was avoiding me…” you said, voice failing you at the end as you thought about how you had abandoned him this week.

“You better fix that, pronto,” Ned said. You rolled your eyes at him before taking out you sandwich, making the biggest mental note ever to visit Peter after school today.

…

You knocked on Peter’s front door. You heard footsteps approaching before the door swung open, revealing Aunt May.

“(Y/N), hi honey, how are you?” she asked sweetly.

“Good thanks May. Is Peter around?” As you finished your question you saw her turn around and look back inside the living room. She swung back around and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“No, sorry, he’s not home.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sadly, shoulders dropping. “Can you tell him I came by?”

“Of course,” she replied, shutting the door.

She turned around to her nephew who laid on the coach, still in his pyjamas from the night before.

“You have to talk to her Pete,” she said, wishing her nephew would see what was right in front of him.

“Don’t wanna,” he responded sulkily, turning over to burry his face in the pillow.

…

When you opened your eyes, the clock on your nightstand read 12:00. You groaned. Why did I have to wake up?

You heard a squeak come from your window and a figure crawling through. You turned on your lamp to see the reason you had been woken up in the middle of the night.

“Peter,” you sat up, rubbing your eyes tiredly, “what are you doing?”

You opened your eyes fully for the first time and caught sight of the boy. His hair was dishevelled, dark circles clad his under eyes and he was slouching where he stood.

You rose to your feet and your feet travelled you until you stood in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. His face nuzzled into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” your voice came out barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry too,” he said. You pulled away from the hug and looked up at his face. He looked tired… and heartbroken.

“What happened?” you asked as you both made your way to the edge of your bed, settling onto it.

“She cheated on me.” His voice was soft, and full of upset.

“Oh Peter, I’m sorry,” you said, wrapping your arm around his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve listened to you. You wondered why I was with a girl like her. I thought she really did like me… but turns out she never did.” His voice broke a little towards the end. He brought his fist up to the bridge of his nose as his squinted his eyes shut. Your heart dropped seeing him so upset.

“Well, as least you never have to help her find a word that rhymes with Science for a school cheer again,” Peter let out a teary laugh, and laughed even harder when you started impersonating Sally, “Ready, OKAY!” you said, clapping your hands together.

He smiled as he pulled your clasped hands down to hold his.

“I think the thing that hurt the most was that I put so much time and effort and heart into her when I should have been putting it into someone who actually cares about me and understands me. You’ve been here all along (Y/N),” he said, looking deeply into your eyes. His hand came up to cup your face, bring you closer to his lips.

“I think I know where you belong Pete,” you whispered, only inches away from his face, “I think, I know it’s with me,” you said before meeting him in a passionate deep kiss.

a/n: lmao sorry if this is terrible idk but my brain just could not compute words while writing this. Feedback is always appreciated xx

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[bullflight]

((I’ve been quiet...))

((There really is no one singular reason I ended up making this sort of ‘update’ post. I know I’ve been really inactive here and elsewhere. I’m mostly to blame for it, my in real life troubles only now, after nearly eight months, finally looking to be easing up.

But here’s the thing: for the most part, my social network here on tumblr has completely rotted away. I’ve been with Bull for 7 years. A lot of the people I’ve befriended, roleplayed with, and even had relationships with... a lot of those people are gone. Some have left Homestuck behind, on neutral and negative terms. Others have stopped roleplay as a hobby. I’ve had a small handful of falling-outs. Hell, I’ve been blatantly ghosted by people I had sincere feelings and connections with.

I get it. Life happens. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it happens. I wouldn’t be here 7 years later with a smut-centric literary exploration of transhumanism and self-worth in the face of trauma and mental illness. [That makes Bull and what I write sound so much cooler and more legit than it is. Sue me.]

But I keep coming back. This is the place I found my real life BF. This is the place I actually began promoting myself as a writer, an artist, and networking with people. I, despite all the setbacks with his timeline and with roleplay partners, and with my life happening outside of here, I like Bull. He means a hell of a lot to me. I have a few planned projects for outside of the roleplay, homestuck universe with him for the future. 

That hasn’t made tumblr and existing here any easier. 

People I liked and admired change, negatively, and reveal themselves to be awful people. This happens a lot more often than you’d think. Drama exists on a cycle, once every few months or years cropping up and culling a sizable portions of present muns and muses. The homestuck fandom, hell the actual content for that matter, are going through a, decidedly twitter-based, reckoning. And you know what else?

People talk shit. People always have. There’s a fair few number of muns and muses who refuse to engage with Bull or me, ic or ooc on any level because of shit that happened six to seven years ago. I had multiple other muns, underage and aware I don’t engage with underage folk, lie to me and solicit me and Bull for nsfw content, in rp and to a certain extent in out of character discussions. I have had most of those people come forward after the fact, apologize, and we both proceed to move on. I started in this fandom and in this scene when I was 19/20. I get it. Shit happens. 

I use Bull to explore a variety of topics. I used to use Bull, and to a certain extent still do, to hone my skills in writing erotica. I’m sure there’s people who associate with me now who don’t know that I’ve been a professional author [and bad as fuck about progressing with it] for several years now. This hobby? Roleplay? It’s both an escape and a method of developing my skills.

And I’ve had multiple people lie to me, engage in darker themes, in erotic content, in discussions about the troublesome and problematic content in the canon proper, and then turn around and call me out, whisper amongst their circles behind my back, and have permanently color a sizable portion of this community’s opinion of me. 

Recently? Besides being ghosted left and right? I’ve been kicked out of friends’ servers because there were people there who were ‘uncomfortable’ with me and with Bull because of shit that happened more than half a decade ago and they’re too chickenshit to talk to me in person about it. There’s people who go around and discuss roleplay, ongoing and not yet resolved, that I do in private with them and it invariably goes around that I and my muse are horrendous awful people and I need to be shunned. 

I’m not here much anymore.

The fact of the matter is that this is not a ‘tumblr’ or a ‘roleplay community’ problem. This is a social media problem. Twitter for homestuck? An absolute dumpster fire. I’m there. I see it. It’s not too different from the shit I saw here in 2013 and 2014. 

There’s people who come into communities, plant a flag, and then burn and pillage the land before making a big show of leaving to go do it elsewhere. There are muns and muses who were driven into toxic corners by other people in this community and had nowhere left to go creatively. There are people, like myself, who lose chances at engaging in a hobby because of little whisperings behind the scenes. 

I’ve lost a lot of people close to my heart. I’ve lost a lot of people I considered good friends. I know that I am not blameless in all of those situations. I am a different person online than I am in real life, someone who is openly affectionate, sexual and flirtatious as a means of connecting with people, and someone who catches and keeps feelings too damned easy for my own good. I know I’ve had times, even if I am only aware of it in hindsight, wherein I crossed someone’s boundaries. But I apologize. I try to do better. I have good days and bad days and weeks where I go back to bad habits and bad mindsets, but I’m not an outwardly malicious or aggressive person.

And yet... within the confines of this roleplay community, this fandom, and social media in general...

You find out real quick if you’re not churning out content, whether it be art or writing or roleplay or cute selfies or callouts or engagement in performative drama... if you’re not making things for people to consume, they’re going to find you boring. They’re going to lose interest. You’re going to go from someone overwhelmed with DMs and Skype and Discord messages on a daily basis cause you were ‘popular’ to someone who cant even maintain a friendship with someone you admire and adore because they have people talking shit in their ears when you’re not around. 

I’m genuinely sorry to anyone and everyone who’s ever been at the receiving end of anything from my erratic, anxious, and depressed behavior. Every day I’m actively trying to be better about containing that shit and not letting it pilot my life and my relationships.

There’s no means to make people, roleplay partners and art friends and accounts you talked to a handful of times through fanmail [god I am dating myself now] to just reappear out of the ether. Sometimes people vanish. Sometimes people go away and you’ll never hear from them again. I get it. I’ve been on the internet since 2002. Before social media that was just a reality. I know it is. But I have tried, nonetheless, to keep in touch, to keep a foothold in this community, to be active, to be engaging, to be... something.

Yet, regardless of trying, eventually you start feeling like something went sour when two dozen people ghost you over the course of a year. When people with no relation to each other left and right just go ‘poof’ and stop replying, stop updating, stop existing. And you feel displaced. They’ve moved on to other things. You feel like you’re boring. Like you’re a one trick pony. That the craze for Daft Punk ended years ago and your gay robo-fuck isnt en vogue anymore and no one wants you around. And no matter how much Bull means to me, no matter how much I put into him, there is inevitably going to be drama, there is going to be people trying to push me and him out.

And for all purposes? It looks like they’ll get what they want eventually.

I exist on discord. 

Pretty much that’s it. 

I’m still working on commissions I’ve owed for an embarrassingly long time. I’ll start posting art again some day. And maybe I’ll be better about keeping in touch. Maybe not. Sometimes you just need to accept defeat. 

I’ll be around.))

[spideyrights]

Partners (Series) - Detective Loki x Reader

V. FRIENDS

series masterlist

Loki was not in a good mood.

After it had been discovered that Alex Jones had been missing for about 24 hours Loki was annoyed enough but then he realised we’d only caught wind of it so late because O’Malley decided he knew better than the two of you and decided not to put the boy under surveillance. You knew that things were going to be a little tense in the station today when Loki had left O’Malley’s office, slamming the door shut behind him so hard that the sound from a good few yards away had made you jump. 

Since then you hadn’t seen Loki, instead choosing to do a bit of investigation on Keller and subtly try and find when his help with the police had tailed off and mystery activity began. You thought for a moment whether he might be involved in the disappearance of Jones and this was the thought that prompted you to seek out Loki, who hadn’t returned to his desk in a couple of hours, and maybe inform him of what Mrs Dover had told you.

You eventually found him watching back footage of his interview with Alex, by himself, in the quiet of a dark room with only the screens to light his face allowing you to see his determined expression clearly enough. You knocked lightly on the doorpane you lingered by, making him jump slightly before swivelling his chair to see who the cause of the noise was, sitting up immediately in his chair upon seeing you there. You noticed how the crinkle between his brows vanished upon seeing you and his face settled into an extremely faint welcoming smile. “You mind if I come in?”

He says nothing, just an affirming nod and a gesture to come join him. You perch yourself on the edge of the table beside the screens he sits in front of and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak. Though mentioning Keller is what you came here to do, upon seeing him something else springs to the forefront of your mind. 

“Are you doing okay?” Your tone is so genuinely sincere in how considerate it is that it takes Loki aback. He shuffles in his chair, almost uncomfortable to see someone care for him for once.  

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just O’Malley you know…” he says softly with a pursing of the lips. You nod though it’s obviously disbelieving. An exhale leaves your mouth as you stare down at your damaged boots, kicking your feet together. “Anyway, um, what were you going to tell me?”

“Right, yeah,” You realign your thoughts, trying to force yourself to focus. “I was thinking about Alex Jones’ disappearance. Last night I was speaking to Mrs Dover, she told me she thinks Keller’s been helping out the police but I thought, can’t be true, I haven’t seen the guy since he came around here trying to beat up Jones. Then I speak to Keller just before you got back, he’s shifty and goes along with my story of him helping the police. I check with the guys in charge of the searches, he hasn’t been out on a search in two days.”

“Fits with the timeline of Jones’ disappearance,” Loki finishes your train of thought for you, nodding his head but his movement stops suddenly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff about Keller last night?” You freeze, your mouth agape but no sound escaping it. “I didn’t want you to be too suspicious of Keller in case it wasn’t true. When he was at the station the other day he told me to trust him and...I did. I thought I’d look into it before I come to you.”

Loki pushes his chair back, sitting alert and rubbing a hand over his face and you can’t read whether this is anger or disappointment. “You’re supposed to tell me these things when you know them. That means-you know that means you lied to me last night, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond but he stops you with a raised hand and now you know he’s really not happy. “If you told me this last night I would’ve trailed Keller this morning, seen where he was going and maybe we’d know by now where Alex Jones is. You see what happens when you don’t tell me things?”

“Yeah or maybe you would’ve followed an innocent man and he’d hate this department even more than he already and then what? We lose his cooperation? At least he trusts me and I had to be sure of what I was telling you before you go projecting your scepticism and your...negativity onto that poor grieving father,” you shout to match his volume, your voice raised so loudly that you notice a few people from outside of the room are trying to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. Loki stands, throwing the door shut immediately, noticing that your eyes had diverted to outside of it. He says nothing only looking at you with a blank gaze.

“If that’s how you feel, fine. If that’s what you think of me, fine. But you need to always, always tell me everything-”

“How was I supposed to? It’s not like either of us really wanted to talk after…” Your sentence trails off as you can’t find the words to describe what you both know is lingering in the air.

“After what?”

“After the night before.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I know but-”

Your heated conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Loki said, trying to cool off by turning away from you and towards the door, with a hand resting on his waist and the other trying to move the strands of hair that had displaced in the argument back into their neatly gelled place.

“Sorry to interrupt. There’s a call for you, Detective Loki.”

“Great, thank you.”

Loki had left to the store alone. You didn’t need him to say that he didn’t want you to come, you could figure that out for yourself. So here you were, scrolling around on your computer with no real purpose. You had been trying to dig up something on Keller to show to Loki as a peace offering when he returned. 

You knew you had totally fucked up. You were fully prepared to hold your hands up and say that you should have just told him in the first place but what you weren’t prepared to say is ‘I’m sorry I was too nervous to have a prolonged conversation with you because I thought you were going to kiss me the other night and I would have actually been completely okay with that’. Yeah, there was no real peace offering that would say that. 

Your head shot up in an instant. 

Maybe there was a peace offering that was adequate enough.

When you returned to the station a little while later, peace treaty in hand, you were pleased to notice that Loki was back at his desk, focused intently on something that you couldn’t see from afar. You paused, worry bubbling in your stomach and the overwhelming need to turn around and retreat from this mission hit you but you resisted, approaching his desk with a nervous smile plastered on your face. Once you were near enough, he still hadn’t looked up, clearly too focused on the scribbles in his notepad to notice your presence. You hung the brown paper bag and cup of coffee over the top of his cubicle, finally making his eyes raise. His brows twitched in confusion and he blinked hard.

“This is my ‘I’m sorry I’m a total idiot and I promise I’ll get better’ present,” you half-smiled nervously, still hovering the bag and coffee near him with uncertainty. He hesitantly reached out and took both items, setting the coffee down and peeling open the brown paper bag. He smiled with a small exhale you could only assume was concealed laughter as he eyed the muffin, clearly one of your own creations, still warm in its bag.

“I was assuming when you made the comment about my baked goods the other day that it was out of jealousy that you haven’t yet had one,” you joked, slightly more relieved, having noted his reaction. He still said nothing, setting down the muffin bag and looking at it a few more moments before his hooded eyes came up to meet yours. “You can’t just fuck up and give me muffins every time you know?”

“I was hoping it would be just this once.” “(Y/N),” he said in a warning tone that made you sigh, knowing it probably wasn't the best time for joking around. You came around the other side of the cubicle and pulled the chair from yours nearer to him, seating yourself there.

“I know, I know, it’s not a joke. And I really am sorry. I just need you to remember that I’m still learning and I know that it’s not nice for you to have me slowing you down but-” “Its not about that,” he spoke softly with such sincerity it genuinely stopped you mid-sentence. “I’m more concerned by the fact you don’t trust me. You didn’t trust me enough to share information that we should both know. And I know you haven’t known me long and you don’t know me personally but professionally that trust should be there from day one.”

“I don’t trust easily, Detective,” you spoke lowly, clearly uncomfortable to have to admit it. “Do you trust me?”

“I do now,” he said, his eyes flitting in the direction of the coffee and muffin making you laugh softly. “But seriously, one day you’ll have to discharge that thing,” He paused, reaching a hand over to you to tap the gun in your holster. “And even if I’m in the line of fire I’ll trust you to make the right call.”

You thought a wordless response was best, nodding with a smile of appreciation and understanding. “How was the caller from earlier?” you say, thinking it best to divert to a less touchy subject for you. Loki notes the apprehension in you but decides to say nothing.

“Pretty good information. The store assistant told me he comes in all the time, buys children’s clothes, always different types and different sizes. Apparently she even caught him getting frisky with the mannequins one time.” You recoil, scrunching your face up in disgust. “What’d he pay with? We can trace card.” “I thought the same but she told me it was always cash. Bastard knows how to cover his tracks.” You shook your head with closed eyes. This was the worst part of your job; knowing how terrible people are. “I gave her my card, told her to call me if he comes back and I’m betting he will.”

You push your chair back to a desk, spinning round so half your body faced your computer, shaking the mouse to make the screen come back alive. “You were checking on Keller?” Loki asks, noting the open tabs on your screen.

“Something’s not right about him lying to his wife. I don’t know if a man like that would kidnap someone like Jones but...”

“A man who’s had something he loves taken away from him is capable of anything,” Loki says lowly and the comment makes you turn back to him with a suspicious gaze. 

“You know I would be able to trust you a lot easier if I knew more about you.”

“Nice try.”

“I’m serious! You don’t even let me call you by your first name.”

“You have to earn that privilege,” he remarks, hiding his growing smile by bringing the coffee cup up to his lips and taking a long gulp. Now genuinely frustrated, you swivel your chair around quickly, refusing to even look at him. You can feel his gaze still searing into the back of your head a few moments longer, however, before you hear the squeak of his chair also turning around to face his computer. 

“You can call me David.” You swear you imagined it for a moment but you whip your head around so fast you’re sure you my have given yourself whiplash. Almost concerned by you response, he tilts his chair back towards you ever so slightly, his amusement growing when he notes your open mouth and wide eyes. 

“Only if it makes you be less of a shit detective.” he clarifies, clearly trying to make it seem less of a big deal than it really was. 

“You won’t regret this, David.” You clap your hands together, grinning widely and it makes him roll his eyes, turning back around. Out of pure excitement, you kick your feet off the ground, sending your chair into his and grip him in a tight hug from behind. You feel him tense up immediately, his head tilting slightly to use his peripheral vision to figure out exactly what you were doing and upon realising it was a hug, he relaxes in your arms though only ever so slightly.

“I’m starting to want to take it back.”

“There’s no taking it back, David, this moment is about to be marked in history.”

“I’m expecting another muffin for this.”

tags: @mother-dearest-loves-me @mariamermaid@vigilanteavengerqueen @superheroforrent @peterbxrnes @igotanaddixon @blablasomethingblabla @cafeaufeels @montypythonsholysnail @carolines24 @chimera4plums

[thepandemicinterviews]

Mikki, July 11 2020, Melbourne

During the course of my interview with Mikki, I realised eight minutes too late that half of what had been said so far had not recorded. This lost section illustrates for me two things: 1) the fallibility of technology, and 2) the irrecoverable nature of speech. Thinking about the former, I consider phone calls that cut in and out, one friend lagging behind the others. For a short while, whenever Mikki and I called, only one person could be heard at a time, so I had to make sure not to “mm” in response or I’d risk cutting her off. This meant monologuing and not interrupting, something akin to the interview form.

I’ve always been attracted to the interview. I think teenage magazines, which I read religiously (often standing in the supermarket aisle with the magazines and stationery and greeting cards), were the first indicator of this love. A decade later, recently, I reflected on the unique beauty of speech in written form in Rachel Cusk’s “Outline” trilogy, which are written almost entirely through her characters’ monologue-style speech. I then read her interview in the Paris Review, in which she says the following:

I suppose I recognised that certain worlds could be almost prepared for me by other people, that other people had abilities to perceive their experiences in ways that I found really useful. That sounds a bit like I got other people to do the work for me, but I just thought, Actually you can just use that particular narrative gift for narrative form in speech. […] I think what I was looking for in writing these books was almost a sound frequency. I think I’m very aware when these passages of life occur—when people are able to give voice to themselves. One of the things that is said about these books is, People don’t talk like that. But I think they probably do. Maybe not all the time, but I think they do. The people that I tend to have speaking in my books have a momentary emergence, like someone getting out of the sea and standing on a rock for a minute and sort of looking around, and for whatever reason they can see where they are.

Like Cusk, I wish to glean from others’ experiences, to pay attention to them, and in doing so, give rise to that “momentary emergence.” Interviews allow speech to be consecrated. One can give voice to oneself, then see spoken words turned into black text. The transcriber imagines commas and full stops, moulding the chaos of speech into tidy sentences. The speech is exalted.

Perhaps what makes an interview so daunting, and so singular in its form, is its promise of structured spontaneity. More structured than a conversation, less structured than a piece of writing. Inside it, operating within a space of pure question and response, subjective experience can resound and stand alone.

I wanted to begin this project with Mikki because she is, in every way, brilliant, but also because she has had to experience Covid-19 after moving to Melbourne in February, away from family and friends. Basically, very alone (alone being almost synonymous with the experience of the virus). Now, as cases in Melbourne continue to rise again, she’s moved into a new house, and has entered week one of their six-week lockdown. We discuss existential versus tangible stresses, our displaced visual landscapes, and the limitations of empathy within collective – and yet, so individual – suffering.

C: Mikki, you found out that you tested negative for Covid today. How did you feel when you saw that text?

M: I was really sleepy because it came through before six in the morning and so I felt slightly relieved but also just felt very silly for having worried so much. But also felt very justified for having worried. Then just thought about all the possible timelines and the things that could have happened. So it was overwhelming but in a nice way.

C: When you say the possible timelines, what would have happened if you had tested positive?

M: It would have changed the way this month plays out. So I was working out how it would change my housemates’ plans for moving today, and then how it would then affect all the things that need to happen in the next few weeks. It would mean that I would need to isolate here, so I would need to do my assignment here and wouldn’t be able to leave to my new place, and just change the whole future of July 2020 for me personally.

C: I felt that way when it was March and I felt like every decision I made was contingent on every other thing that happened which was often not in my control. Do you feel like this week has been the most intense week during this period in terms of personal stresses?

M: I think so. It’s been the most actively intense week I guess. Like I felt stressed about tangible real things that maybe didn’t necessarily require the level of stress I was experiencing but still were very real and very scary in practical ways. Whereas, the stress and intensity I felt in March and April was much more existential and about my emotions, I guess, for different reasons. Whereas this felt so tied to real, terrifyingly tangible stresses.

C: When you say that it felt existential back in March, can you elaborate on that?

M: I’m never a hundred percent sure if I’m using the word properly [laughs]. But I think I just felt very aware of literally living and existing and how I was experiencing being alive and all the ways that I could feel throughout a day, or a week, or a month. I was just so aware of every tiny experience and so obviously questioned every aspect of my experiences, I guess. Partly because I had all this time to do that and was so intensely alone that I was forced to do that. This time felt really different to that because things don’t feel as abstract.

C: And with all that time alone, other than thinking, how did you pass that time?

M: I watched so many music videos. I discovered that I can just lie down and watch music videos with my headphones on and feel so much. What else did I do… I called people a lot and I went on walks and for brief periods I’d read and watch movies and feel really good about that. Obviously write my essays, but really slowly. And started drinking tea so, so frequently throughout each day. And I guess just made a lot of plans, just solidified ideas – I guess that kind of comes under thinking. But just, I guess, restructured how I think. It felt like I could just intensely feel an emotion and embrace that feeling and work out which other senses I could use to further feel that feeling and ride it out and just experience it fully. And that was like an activity, and a thing that I could be doing in a way that it never has been before.

C: It sounds very therapeutic. A mindfulness guru we have in our midst. Daphne’s volunteering for this mindfulness group at the moment where they just slowly eat raisins. I guess just having the lack of external influence to allow you this space to drink tea and watch your music videos. Do you think that’s something you’ll hold with you when you do get busier – that experience?

M: Yeah, absolutely. I feel like the only other time I’d understood that was the one week at the end of January when I smoked weed each night and just enjoyed feeling really good in all these ways. But that was so short-lived and so brief, and I feel like I’ve extended that now, but without needing any kind of substance, just fully enjoying being comfortable…

C: So this new lockdown – six weeks – having that set timeframe. How do you feel about that and is there anything you hope to achieve in the second lockdown?

M: Yeah, it definitely is quite a set time. I was talking about that just earlier today, about how that’s different psychologically to being told that something’s happening indefinitely and that would change how you think about it. I am kind of seeing it as a second chance in a way, like Lockdown: Take 2 [laughs]. Like a time to do all the things that you hoped to do the first time round, but obviously were never going to accomplish. This feels like the chance to do that. So part of me does want to end up becoming a runner by the end of it, or someone who does yoga all the time. But I also just hope that I’m someone who’s a bit more solidly in the real world by the end of it. And feel a bit more able to engage with the external world more comfortably and feel like a real person who exists in a tangible world that’s external to me and my own mind. Because I think at the start of it, so the next few weeks, I definitely will keep being very gentle with myself and move with whatever mood or feeling needs to happen and just try to ride out the next few weeks, I guess. And still try to achieve the things I have to do but without any real world pressures because it doesn’t feel like I’m back in the real world yet. I think I do hope by the end of the six weeks I am a bit more solidly in the world and able to interact with people without feeling like it’s all a bit imaginary. And be ready to be doing uni subjects a bit more seriously, and start looking for a job, and be a bit more down-to-earth, be solidly on the ground kind of vibe.

C: Do you feel like it gives you a bit more time to realise what you want before feeling fully settled? Do you feel like it’s kind of a good thing for where you’re at to have this extra time?

M: Yeah, I think it is. It feels a bit sad to have started to have these nice things, like seeing people occasionally and being able to relax a bit, not feeling that stress. It was nice just feeling like life was picking up in that way. But I think for me, still kind of feeling like I am quite alone, and I do want to take all this learning and growth, becoming different and new in all these ways out of this time I have, where I am forced to be alone. In that sense I think it does feel like a nice bit of extra room to do that comfortably.

C: You mentioned moodboards before, when I think it wasn’t recording. What images come to mind when you think of this year? Not January, of course, because that was a very different time.

M: This is super obvious and has been the case for nearly everyone I love, but the sky at dusk has been a really clear daily chance to really feel something. Something that changes all the time. I think just striking visuals in general have been something I’ve been able to appreciate more. It’s as though colours and images or videos of people in really good or interesting outfits carry so much more weight and power in a way. I feel like I can appreciate them so much more. So those are some of the images that I’ve been much more struck by than usual, I guess. I feel like the things I look at in real life are so limited, you know, like I just look out the same few windows, and walk the same couple of parks, and go to the same shops. But then at the same time, the things I’m looking at online are so much more varied and diverse and I’m giving them so much more attention and time that it feels like they’re all more powerful. Oh, and also just my big blue jumper has become such a staple and all my bed sheets and pillows are different shades of blue, but the jumper just typifies that soft, comfy, homey – soft colours, but also warm soft cosy overall sensation. I think it represents that all in itself.

C: It does. So you’ve learnt a lot about yourself of course, but do you feel like you’ve learnt a lot about other people, people in general, specific people?

M: Hmm. I don’t know if I’ve really learnt about other people. I think I’ve seen more of certain parts of different people I know, because our relationships are obviously really different, and it brings out new dynamics and certain aspects of everyone’s personalities are amplified in different ways.

C: In terms of different opinions towards the whole situation or?

M: In terms of how people think and feel. I guess because I’m in a new place, it’s kind of been a really specific way of highlighting how different people think and act. There’s just been such clear divides between people who are partying recently and out in bars and stuff, and people who are following the rules because they’re the laws but aren’t necessarily super invested in the reality of the health crisis and your responsibilities in your communities and so on. And then the people who are most disadvantaged by this and are just in such a completely different world to the people who are out dancing, happy they can do that. So it’s kind of been really stark seeing those differences play out, and mainly through my phone or laptop as well, like not in person. I guess also seeing people respond to stuff, like with the public housing hard lockdown, seeing people really quickly working out ways to donate stuff and help with various things. I think that kind of brought out people’s opinions especially starkly. In so many ways. Obviously, seeing the government’s responses has also been super informative, and feels like it all lines up with the last essay I did, which was all about incarceration in Victoria and how indigenous women are disproportionately affected. And seeing that conflict between a fairly progressive government in a lot of ways, but then a really harsh, tough crime, law-and-order focused, criminal justice agenda. And that’s come out really clearly again recently.

C: Like you can’t be both.

M: Yeah, well it just kind of feels really extreme how it somehow goes so hand-in-hand in this state.

C: I think at the beginning of everything, just speaking on a very vague global level, I thought everyone is kind of going through the same thing worldwide. You never get to experience that level of – like I could talk to anyone in the world and say, “How’s it affecting you?”, “Same.” But then I think as the months progressed and different countries went different directions. And on a local level, different types of people had different experiences and it reinforced existing hierarchies.

M: Totally. It was such a shift from we’re all in this together to realising that just couldn’t be further from the truth, basically. And how false it was.

C: Yeah, and all the blaming of people and outrage. I think in particular, in Australia and New Zealand, it’s been a big part of the conversation around outbreaks. Blaming people for not being perfect and not having the empathy to understand why someone might be more likely to pass it on due to living conditions or just personal situations.

M: It’s been so extreme seeing that play out. Especially with the recent Victorian spike, I feel like the discourse has become so much more about blaming people who are doing the wrong thing. Even where government policy failures are also a huge part of that story as well. Yeah, it’s so interesting in terms of empathy, actually. It’s kind of helped people develop empathy in some ways, in terms of unemployment for some people and what that’s like, or what poverty is like, or social isolation or being lonely or being anxious or not having access to the same food or resources. But then also seeing how limited that empathy is in other ways. That’s such a strange conflict I think.

[flaneuriste]

Well, this is just my theory, but I am a man and a musician so I know what I'm talking about. Ginger mentioned that Roger and David's relationship was like a marriage that ended up in a divorce. These guys live for the music, and at this time, when they were young, it looked like they were literally married to each other. In this case when you are completely devoted to your bandmates and your mates it's hard to find things that matters more than that. When there's such a strong bond it happens -

(cont) that strong feelings develop and I think this was the case between David and Roger because let me tell you that I don’t believe them when they say that they hate each other. I don’t believe it at all. So I think that Roger was the most obvious, while David seemed more subtle and good at hiding it. But I think it was inside of him too. It doesn’t have to be sexual. It could be platonic. I don’t think you’ll agree but I do believe it was their case just like many other musicians.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~First of all - APOLOGIES for taking so long to reply to this! I truly do appreciate your question/comments. 

DAVID GILMOUR AND ROGER WATERS: What about that?

I think I understand the sort of relationship you’re talking about. I think sports teammates can feel it about each other, especially if they’re close in positions. I think people feel it in the military too only much more intensely. Any time you work closely on projects that are important to you AND in which you have to rely on each other/others, you develop a special bond. In the musical world, I think that is DEF the case for Keith Richards/Mick Jagger, John/Paul/George/Ringo, Elton John/Bernie Taupin and many others. You said you didn’t think I’d agree *grinning* and you’re SORT of right. In favour of your argument: I think that they were really deeply committed to making the best possible music. I think they quietly had a great deal of respect for the other’s talents, especially as their talents were quite different. I think they did have lots of laughs together in the midst of working. I think they both have razor sharp minds that they appreciated. On the other hand: David and Roger didn’t start out together, not like the other musicians I’ve mentioned. They came together later and in a disturbing situation for both of them. I think it was most disturbing for David; he and Syd had been really close, he came into the band with an unusual idea that Syd would continue to work with them and he would cover for Syd, and then that didn’t work. Instead Syd was out. And yet sometimes came to shows and stood in front of him, staring. Fercrissakes. When I put myself in David’s place, imagining a good friend that I have displaced, standing there? That’s discomfort taken to an extreme degree.David has said that he felt like “new boy” for decades. I don’t think he melded with the rest seamlessly. I think he can go along and get along, which is not the same as finding your people. David and Roger were never like Elton and Bernie, one writing the music, the other writing the lyrics. It was def a group effort to start with and then slid into a dictatorship, more or less. The disagreements about whose work was more important to the product started a loooooong time ago (and not just between David and Roger). 

Roger was known to, at times, have a rather cruel sense of humour. David, by reputation, is a gracious person. I’m not saying Saint David by any stretch of the imagination but I also think he was probably embarrassed and appalled when Roger was cruel. The main crux of it, for me, is that David and Roger are fundamentally very different, which makes it challenging for them to trust each other and be truly close. Of course, some of that spark between them challenged them to produce better music. 

David is relaxed, indolent in the worst cases, easy-going in the best. Roger is hyper, intense and impatient. David is a collaborator. Roger is a composer. David works well with a LOT of different people, types of music, settings, ideas. Roger is singular in his vision and pursuits. When it’s his own tours, I think David is a very benign dictator. Everyone knows it’s his word in the end but the musicians (see Jon Carin in particular) love that he wants his band members to bring themselves to the table, to express themselves and add. The only time he steps in is if something really jars. Roger hears exactly what he wants, sees his vision. He wants the musicians to reproduce what he hears and sees. He doesn’t want them screwing it up with improvisation. Have you ever heard that clip (somewhere on my Tumblr archive), “Three minutes of Roger complaining” during the making of The Wall? It’s kind of hilarious!I don’t dislike Roger. He’s got a lot of great qualities and I know a lot of his problems come from insecurity and fear (which maybe he’s worked out a lot now; who knows) but I do think he would drive a lot of people CRAZY. You have to share his passion for HIS vision in order to succeed with him.

As for the Nick and Rick: Nick and Roger are great friends as we know. I think that is ‘cause Nick just refuses to engage with Roger’s rants, doesn’t take him too seriously and yet has a great appreciation of what a mastermind he is when it comes to building a song. I doubt that Nick and David were ever TRULY close but they worked together to keep PF afloat after Roger left (Roger made a big mistake in thinking that Nick wouldn’t mind). If I was going to pick a pair out of PF that really had syncro-mesh, it would be David and Rick. Rick and Roger were chalk and cheese. Rick and Nick were amicable but not much else. Rick and David? I’m sure they didn’t agree on everything but their understanding of each other musically was profound. They’re both quiet but they could PLAY together, so beautifully. I know regular readers will be bored to hear this again but I am SOOO grateful and happy that David and Rick were able to share the “On An Island” tour. Rick said it was the happiest tour he’d ever been on. David knew how to jolly Rick along a bit, tease him and cajole him but not humiliate him. He appreciated how enormously talented Rick was. It was a joy to see. So…….my final analysis? SO fucking great that David and Roger ended up in PF at the same time. My gawd, the music that came out of that era? Astounding. I def don’t think they hate each other. I think they get frustrated trying to understand each other ‘cause they’re 180 degrees apart. I also think they each refuse to be sentimental. Hardly ever. But. I don’t want to say this but. So many of the classics are getting older. And I am quite sure that when either Roger or David die, the other is going to be affected. In my humble opinion, they created music as great as Beethoven or Bach when they meshed. AGAIN! Thank you so much for the question. Please believe me - I have no problem with people completely disagreeing with me. I love the debate and discussion. Respect to all………..best wishes.

[doomedandstoned]

Top 10 Albums Of The 2010′s

~By Calvin Lampert~

I think it is safe to say that underground metal has enjoyed a period of unprecedented growth and popularity in the last 10 years. But when I am saying this I am not only thinking about the heavy underground; those adherents of the Sabbath sound and this whole new wave of doom metal bands. I am thinking of the fact that (underground) metal has undergone a change in image, too.

Though frequently maligned as hipster bands (or metal for people who don't like metal), acts like Deafheaven have brought metal to a whole new audience and raised awareness of the genre as a genuine form of art that does not just exist for its own sake; that metal fans only go for gore, beer and self-referential horn-throwing. Not that Neurosis and Godflesh haven’t been ambassadors of this mindset for more than three decades already, but it feels that the understanding of metal as art seems to have finally broken through to an audience outside of the traditional metal subculture in the past decade.

I think it is in no small part thanks to some of the bands on this list I have assembled (though I may have forgone obvious picks like Alcest and Deafheaven for more personal choices). And in retrospect, it should’ve been a list of bands rather than records, as most of the artists on this list would’ve have had a claim to a spot on here, with any record they put out. Take that as a hurray for consistency. So, without further ado, my picks for the best and most remarkable records of the decade.

10. Akhlys – 'The Dreaming I' (Debemur Morti - 2015)

The Dreaming I by Akhlys

I can’t help but wonder if Naas Alcameth of AKHLYS (also of Nightbringer, Aoratos and Bestia Arcana) set out with the express intent to create what is essentially a nigh perfect atmospheric black metal record when he started working on The Dreaming I. It damn sure feels like, each strum, syllable, and beat sits at the right place; the pieces of this nightmarish puzzle fit with an unsettling ease.

Photograph by by Kuba Leszko

The sound really does justice to the underlying concept of dreams and nightmares, as you’ll rarely find a record with such an impenetrable atmosphere. Once you hit play you’re soon enveloped by countless layers of swirling guitars, all at the command of Naas Alcameth, and he seems hellbent on suffocating you with them. The Dreaming I is about as close as you can get sleep paralysis-made-music. If you put off black metal as spooky noise made by a bunch hooded esoteric nerds you might’ve found your match in Akhlys. They are just that, they’re dead serious, and the results are impressive.

9. Elephant Tree – 'Elephant Tree' (Magnetic Eye Records - 2016)

Elephant Tree by Elephant Tree

I’ve observed myself growing increasingly apart from most stoner rock as of late, sometimes even antagonizing the genre. I’m afraid I’m just burned out on it and grown embittered, so a record from those genres ending up on my Albums of the Decade list should give you a hint of just how special it really is.

That is not to say that there haven’t been some real stoner rock heavy hitters this decade, such as Gozus Revival, Valley of the Suns Sayings of the Seers or Lo-Pans Salvador, but there’s something to ELEPHANT TREE's self-titled record that just so narrowly sets it apart from the others.

Photograph by Phil Smithies

What that is I am still not quite sure, and I had my fair share of relistens. Maybe it is the tasteful balance act of the production that makes this record so wonderfully ethereal but also ridiculously crushing. Or the sleek as all hell songwriting where every hook fires but the flow remains impeccable. Or the gorgeous harmonic interplay of Jack Townley and Pete Hollands vocals. Or maybe really just the sum of it all.

Whatever it is, Elephant Tree get it so very right and it is a true joy to behold such a well-written and fine-tuned record in a genre that has become all too prone to shoddiness and idle Kyuss worship. If there is any justice in the world, Elephant Tree will be looked back as a classic of the genre.

8. Oranssi Pazuzu – 'Värähtelijä' (Svart Records/20 Buck Spin - 2016)

Värähtelijä by Oranssi Pazuzu

So many have tried to do it. Countless chonged out Hendrix worshippers. Australian neo-psych darlings. But they all failed. Turns out the holy grail of psychedelia was dug up by a bunch of dudes in the frozen wastes of Finland when they decided to throw together black metal and almost every imaginable psych rock permutation under the firmament. Absolute insanity inducing balls-to-the-wall trippiness ensues.

ORANSSI PAZUZU is their name, ego-death squared in hyperspace is their game and Värähtelijä is the latest in a slew of attempts to smear your brain across the event horizon, and their most accomplished one so far. Think Hawkwind trying to interpret the soundtrack of Interstellar with a guy being spaghettified by a black hole screaming on top of it. Huge, plodding riffs and spacey synth fuckery abound.

Film by Shelby Kray

This madness extends to their live shows, yours truly (being completely sober) suffered a sensory overload when they launched into the crescendo of the album opener "Saturaatio" at Roadburn 2016. This band is taking things to the next level, and something tells me that Värähtelijä is just another chapter in an increasingly maddening venture.

7. Conan – 'Blood Eagle' (Napalm Records - 2014)

You can’t really draw a picture of the doom scene in the '10s without CONAN. And I do mean that in quite the literal sense, as seemingly every self-respecting doom fan seems to own at least one Conan shirt and you can’t really go to a gig without seeing one.

By all accounts the band probably could’ve retired years ago and just live off those rad merch designs. But Conan knows no rest -- always writing, always touring, always scheming. Thus the band has fed a steady stream of releases to a cult-like following over the years and narrowing down the output of such an important band to just one record is no small task. My choice eventually fell on the fan favorite, 2014's Blood Eagle.

Photograph by Sally Townsend

Conan had already pretty much established themselves as the emergent sludge-doom act of the decade at that time, but as we know they’re not one to rest on their laurels and Blood Eagle was just them driving the point home and the stake deeper, solidifying a grasp on the scene that hasn’t waned ever since, and they did it oh so righteously, by the primordial might of tonal displacement and drop F glory.

Conan might have the closest thing to a universal doom appeal because they speak to your baser instincts. Songs like "Foehammer" or "Total Conquest" seem like trebuchets aimed at the synapses of your reptilian brain, and I can’t help but admire these noble DIY barbarians, who so deservedly have carved out their place in the canon of the genre.

6. SubRosa – 'More Constant than the Gods' (Profound Lore - 2013)

More Constant Than The Gods by SubRosa

SUBROSA was one of a kind. If one band calling it quits this decade broke my heart, it was them. But before doing so they gifted us three outstanding post-metal records, whose folk and chamber music flourishes felt completely unique, intimate, and anachronistic in a genre dominated by more vast and spacious narratives. They reached inward rather than outward and did so with a no-parts-wasted mentality.

In a world rife with one-trick bands, SubRosa's employ of multiple vocalists and two electric violins felt natural and unabashedly non-gimmicky, and they would reveal the true potential of their sound on 2013's harrowingly beautiful More Constant than the Gods.

Photograph by Alyssa Herrman

More Constant is remarkable for its elegant and restrained way of instilling dread. Hardly any harsh vocals, the tempo never goes beyond a steady stride, just those horrific and yet also beautiful violins, plodding guitars, and downright poetic lyrics. And SubRosa seem to feel right at home on either terrain, be it the skin-crawling lead guitar line of "Affliction" or the grandiose outro section of "Fat of the Ram." One can only hope that SubRosa will return one day. A band that was truly novel, and not just a novelty.

5. Tchornobog – 'Tchornobog' (Fallen Empire / I, Voidhanger - 2017)

TCHORNOBOG is many things. Among others, a dark, ancient Slavic deity. In the world of music, a monolithic amalgamation of extreme metal, some Eldritch chimera of cavernous black, death, and doom metal. And the beast of one Markov Soroka, though him stating that the Tchornobog inhabits his head begs the question who might really be in charge?

Photograph by Nona Limmen

Soroka does indeed seem to be guided by spirits since he started the project at the age 14, and eight years of gestation and arduous work culminated in one of the most engrossing, all-consuming records I have come across this decade. Far be it from me to reduce Tchornobog’s remarkability down to the young age of its creator, but Sorokas ambition and execution of those ambitions could run circles around a lot of veteran extreme metal bands. The man is just flat out talented. And that is not even taking his various other projects (Drown, Aureole, Krukh) into account, or his curation work through his own label, Vigor Deconstruct.

As such, Tchornobog ultimately is, among many other things, a bright spotlight shining on a young man who has all the makings of being the next big underground metal mastermind. I’m sure you’ll be inclined to agree as soon as Soroka brings out the grand piano and saxophone on "III: Non-Existence’s Warmth (Infinite Natality Psychosis)" to perform what I’d like to call Lovecraftian Lounge Music. He must have a thing for Demilich too, judging from those song titles.

4. Hell – 'III' (Lower Your Head / Pesanta Urfolk - 2012)

Hell III by Hell

There is a subtle power in melodies, particularly melancholic and sad ones. Doom, and more specifically funeral doom, have long since sought to harness the power of the melody, but I think nobody has been quite as effective or moved me so profoundly with a simple plucked melody as MSW, the singular mind of HELL.

Just one minute into Mourn, the opening (and penultimate) track of Hell III), I am already instilled with a deep sense of melancholy, but also foreboding doom. However, few songs can just thrive from having a good riff or lead -- and there’s 17 minutes yet to go. I’ll spoil you and say that in this time Hell shifts between doom, black metal, neoclassical music, and dark ambient. That’s a lot of territory to cover and it becomes apparent that for how meticulously well crafted its individual parts are, MSW never loses sight of the bigger picture and the transitions between these different sounds are seamless.

Film by Billy Goate

At the danger of sounding like a huge fucking nerd, I really am more inclined to refer to "Mourn" and its follow up "Decedere" as movements rather than songs and if the songwriting doesn’t clue you in you’ll be persuaded by the time Decedere breaks out the operatic vocals and a flute accompanied by a string ensemble. And no matter if he’s performing a contemplative acoustic piece or pounding you in the ground with some absolutely hellish (the band name is apt as can be) blackened doom, MSW always manages to maintain an aura of grandeur. MSW is not just a great songwriter, he’s a veritable composer, and III is his magnum opus.

3. Mizmor – 'Yodh' (Gilead Media - 2016)

Yodh by מזמור

If whatever has come before was bleak, then Yodh is pitch fucking black. This decade hasn’t lacked in dark records (not even taking metal into account -- Mount Eerie's A Crow Looked at Me, Nick Cave’s Skeleton Tree, or The Caretakers Everywhere at the End of Time), but taking on existential dread specifically (and thereby becoming a vessel for it) MIZMOR's Yodh remains unsurpassed in its sheer effectiveness to instill said dread in the listener and is possibly the most harrowing record of the last 10 years.

Photo by Kento Woolery

As befits the theme, Yodh genuinely sounds like the work of a broken man. A miserable slab of glacial funeral doom and grimy black metal, but delivered with a brute strength and conviction that really suggests more defiance than self-pity. I’d be remiss to not point out ALN's incredibly varied vocal performance, ranging from wretched snarls and air-starved bellows to what I can only describe as pterodactyl shrieks, all carrying the same biting vitriol as the instrumentals.

Film by Shelby Kray

Yet for all its doom and gloom, Yodh surprises with occasional moments of tenderness and outright (if melancholic) beauty, too, such as the acoustic intro of "II: A Semblance Waning" or the massive main riff of "III: The Serpent Eats Its Tail" that feels like the sort of thing Pallbearer would’ve come up with if they had been more into Mournful Congregation than Warning.

All these things combined with thoughtful, introspective lyrics make Yodh into an incredibly powerful and downright visceral record, and if for you the main draw of doom metal lies its emotional potency (as it does for me) then Yodh is an essential listen. Let ALN shout down the very pillars that uphold your personal beliefs of life’s meaning.

2. Pallbearer – 'Sorrow and Extinction' (Profound Lore - 2012)

Sorrow And Extinction by Pallbearer

Warning was the first band to try to bridge the gap between traditional and modern doom metal, and while Watching from a Distance might have a fair claim to be one of the saddest metal records out there, in my eyes it was PALLBEARER who took that formula even further and perfected it with their 2011 debut Sorrow and Extinction. To me, it’s a classic record in both senses. A landmark of post-millennium doom and a throwback to the days of yore, when Saint Vitus and Candlemass were in charge of bumming everyone out; while still maintaining the larger-than-life-feel and sonic heft of modern doom championed by bands like Yob or Neurosis.

Photo by Sally Townsend

But Sorrow and Extinction isn’t just some roided up epic doom sans the operatic vocals, Pallbearer are far too clever to suffer such a pitfall. Granted, Sorrow sounds huge, and while there’s plenty of the heavy stuff to go around what makes Sorrow so great is how catchy it is. There is no weak song on this record (admittedly there’s only five), and while most bands could only hope to one day write a riff as good as "Devoid of Redemption's" main theme, it seems like Pallbearer just comes up with them on a whim, and their ability to do so doesn’t seem to have faded three records into their career -- not even to speak of Brett Campbell's soulful lyrics and passionate delivery.

Film by Billy Goate

Then, of course, there’s the amazing guitar interplay between Campbell and Devin Holt, chiefly on the casket closer "Given to the Grave," whose second half essentially boils down to them constantly trading dramatic leads with each other like the world's most woeful ping pong game.

Sorrow and Extinction is not only a deeply moving yet utterly anthemic record, but also one that successfully marries the past and the present of doom. In that regard, it is a preciously rare and so far unsurpassed record.

1. YOB – 'Clearing the Path to Ascend' (Neurot Records - 2014)

Clearing The Path To Ascend by YOB

Writing about metal without resorting to superlatives is hard. Try to practice restraint in the presence of something whose very nature lacks restraint. I am definitely guilty of that lack of restraint; one has only got to scroll up again to confirm it. But luckily some records are so very superlative that I do not have to take that editorial high road and can fire all the “mosts” and “-ests” at will. In fact, they almost require you to use them. Clearing the Path to Ascend by YOB is one such record. Even among all these preceding superlative records it stands above and beyond.

Photo by Angelique Le Marchand

Clearing the Path to Ascend is so vast, it feels singular. It is one and it is all. When I think larger-than-life sound, Clearing comes to mind first. It has become the very benchmark with which I measure other records. Yob's big and beautiful only consists of four tracks, but they made each feel like a distinct part of a greater journey. "In Our Blood" opens with a recording of Alan Watts telling you it is "time to wake up," before the song slowly rises into a stretched-out draw and crash, eventually unfurling into a manic guitar line.

"Nothing to Win" feels like Yob's own take on Neurosis’ Through Silver in Blood. It is an unrelenting, steady 11-minute march down a highway of broken glass, utterly windswept and viciously hopeless. "Unmask the Spectre" seems to tread similarly bitter paths but manages to wrestle itself free into two grandiose spiraling crescendos.

Film by Billy Goate

The death knell of an album closer that is "Marrow" shouldn’t really need much of an introduction at this point. It still feels like I’ll see a link, post or share of it every other day. It has become an omnipresence in the doom scene, and deservingly so. Yob dials back on the gloom and shines all the brighter. "Marrow" is not just hopeful; it is downright ecstatic and by the time Mike Scheidt launches into the grand solo of the track (so very gracefully accompanied by a Hammond organ played by producer Billy Barnett) has ascended to a genuine sermon.

Though Clearing had its fair share of dark moments "Marrow" closes the record on a remarkably conciliatory note and I really think that speaks of Yob as a (metal) band. Call it a big move to offer closure -- a fitting end to such a big record. One that suits the title of ‘Album of the Decade,’ and embodies the spirit of metal that wants to be just more.

Calvin's Choice: 100 Best of the Decade

YOB - Clearing the Path to Ascend

Pallbearer - Sorrow and Extinction

Mizmor - Yodh

Hell - Hell III

Tchornobog - Tchornobog

SubRosa - More Constant Than The Gods

Conan - Blood Eagle

Oranssi Pazuzu - Värähtelijä

Elephant Tree - Elephant Tree

Akhlys - The Dreaming I

Clutch - Earth Rocker

Merkstave - Merkstave

Gozu - Revival

Chelsea Wolfe - Pain Is Beauty

Valley of the Sun - The Sayings of the Seers

Inter Arma - Paradise Gallows

Thou - Heathen

Om - Advaitic Songs

Bell Witch - Mirror Reaper

All Them Witches - Dying Surfer Meets His Maker

Horn of the Rhino - Weight of Coronation

Boss Keloid - Melted on the Inch

KALEIKR - Heart Of Lead

Jeremy Irons & The Ratgang Malibus - Spirit Knife

Woman is the Earth - Torch of Our Final Night

Weyes Blood - Titanic Rising

LINGUA IGNOTA - Caligula

Queens of the Stone Age - ...Like Clockwork

Messa - Feast for Water

Anna von Hausswolff - Dead Magic

Mamiffer - The World Unseen

Samothrace - Reverence to Stone

Primitive Man - Scorn

Fórn - The Departure of Consciousness

Khemmis - Absolution

Bongripper - Miserable

High on Fire - De Vermis Mysteriis

UN - Sentiment

Cult of Luna - Mariner

Slomatics - Future Echo Returns

MISTHYRMING - Söngvar elds og óreiðu

Dvne - Asheran

Earth - Primitive and Deadly

Mars Red Sky - Apex III (Praise For The Burning Soul)

The Midnight Ghost Train - Cypress Ave.

Panopticon - Panopticon - Roads to the North

Mare Cognitum - Phobos Monolith

Sólstafir - Ótta

Have a Nice Life - The Unnatural World

Furia - Księżyc Milczy Luty

Tardigrada - Emotionale Ödnis

Yellow Eyes - Immersion Trench Reverie

Stoned Jesus - Seven Thunders Roar

Höstblod - Mörkrets Intåg

Ulver - The Assassination of Julius Caesar

Zola Jesus - Okovi

Funereal Presence - Achatius

Wormlust - The Feral Wisdom

Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want

L'Acephale - L'Acéphale

40 Watt Sun - The Inside Room

Vilkacis - Beyond the Mortal Gate

Bossk - Audio Noir

Carpenter Brut - Trilogy

Sumac - What One Becomes

Death Grips - Exmilitary

Red Fang - Murder the Mountains

Lo-Pan - Salvador

Whores. - Gold

Truckfighters - Universe

Greenleaf - Trails & Passes

Bölzer - Aura

Monolord - Vaenir

Dead to a Dying World - Elegy

The Body - I Shall Die Here

Mutoid Man - War Moans

Neurosis - Fires Within Fires

Opeth - Pale Communion

Planning for Burial - Below the House

Triptykon - Melana Chasmata

Graveyard - Hisingen Blues

Saor - Aura

Windhand - Grief's Infernal Flower

Egypt - Endless Flight

Emma Ruth Rundle - Marked For Death

Deafheaven - Sunbather

Kadavar - Kadavar

Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats - Blood Lust

Vanum - Ageless Fire

Dai-Ichi - Dai-Ichi

Lord Mantis - Pervertor

Ne Obliviscaris - Portal Of I

Loss - Horizonless

Tome of the Unreplenished - Innerstanding

Elder - Lore

Witch Mountain - Cauldron of the Wild

Ahab - The Giant

Alcest - Kodama

The Dillinger Escape Plan - Dissociation

Sleep - The Sciences

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

i walk in 20 hours late sipping a starbucks hot cocoa

i don’t like coffee

promethea!!! 

awwwwww yis

tl;dr: uhh wow i talked a lot today, sorry. Mostly about whatever the fuck that thing Rhys is handing us is, how it ties into the dig site we see like maybe it’s a piece to activate it, maybe the dig site isn’t a Vault but instead a teleporter or something and needs multiple pieces to activate. so i guess kinda like a Vault but not that kind of Vault. Also if said dig site is actually on Promethea because that’s, like, DEFINITELY Elpis behind it. and like, okay, maybe we used the giant space gun to destroy the asteroid fields and make room for elpis and teleport elpis there, or maybe we teleported the dig site to pandora because it needs to be opened since Moon = Key and maybe Promethea’s moon was destroyed by the giant space gun (TM) and turned into asteroid belt, or maybe the dig site was always ON pandora and it’s not actually a Vault (because the Map would have pointed it out), but still. lots of possibilities here. oh and i go over the Battleborn easter egg and talk about Tannis is Not What She Seems (and pray she won’t end up being evil bc I love her) and I wanna believe the Eridians sent that message, not the cult ‘cause fuck those guys they probably can’t see the future they probably just adopted the name. also I ramble about how gorgeous this planet is for like... 30 minutes. but damn it really is pretty.

man this was a fun thing to wake up to and then have to wait like 8 hours to actually fully take a look at lmao

“Home to the Atlas corporation headquarters, Promethea is a metropolitan world covered in futuristic towers of chrome and glass. A recent siege by Maliwan has turned the urban environment into a warzone; their mechanized infantry patrol the streets, rodent/insect hybrids known as Ratches infest the sewers and back-alleys, and the Children of the Vault are seizing the opportunity to recruit displaced and disgruntled citizens. Atlas CEO Rhys Strongfork is getting desperate.“

“... Children of the Vault are seizing the opportunity to recruit displaced and disgruntled citizens”.

yeah that’s the most important part of this description for me. I really really like the idea of that, and it could tie into the whole Mayhem is Coming tagline for the game as, like many people have speculated, the Mayhem we hear about is the spreading of the cult/the psychos across the universe. A very interesting tie-in to the marketing campaign, as it’s clear we’re now the target of this cult propaganda, like the citizens of Promethea are (were? this is all past-tense since marcus is telling this story, isn’t it?)... like the citizens of Promethea were.

And we know that Atlas is trying to protect the citizens in the tunnels, so it’d be really interesting to see the two get into a direct conflict over a group of citizens. Like Lorelei tells us it's a hostage situation or whatever and we run in and it’s more of a brainwashing situation. Worse if the citizens decided to switch over without any brainwashing. oof.

im also curious about the number of hexagons we see on Promethea. The shapes look identical to the ones on Pandora’s page, so I’m curious if this is an accurate representation of how many areas will be on each planet.

just sayin’.

We do know that Pandora has more than those 3 listed areas (from Supmatto’s new video! can’t believe i missed the stream. ah well.)

“Covenant Pass”. I wanna believe this is near the area where we go find Sanctuary-III, at the very least that one tunnel-y area?

you know the one

this one, it’s right next to Sanc-III afterall.

Also thinking it may not be the name of a huge area, but instead the name of one of the smaller areas within that area? like the ones where when you discover it you get experience points? yeah.

the name makes me think this is someway related to the CoV cause of the word ‘covenant’, an agreement. We also know this area is directly near this one bandit camp which I’ve theorized before is a sun smasher camp

(you can see the back of sanctuary-III near both areas) 

so it’s possible there was an agreement made and both could pass freely through that one tunnel, or the twins were able to build that wall close to this camp. idk, just spitballing ideas.

So then it is possible there’s only 3ish areas on Pandora, but I really hope not unless they are BIG areas. There are most likely more than 3.

oh but we’re here to discuss Promethea

sorry i forgot.

For Promethea we got the Titan Skyway, the Atlas Campus, and the Meridian Seaport.

Titan Skyway reads to me like that giant road we keep seeing in the trailers 

like this one, which is giving me huge Bloodshot Stronghold (Damtop) vibes. Which is one of my favorite levels to play as melee Zer0 with execute and many must fall so... please let this be what i think it is. i may end up running that map just for funsies at the end of the game. mm if it didn’t take running the actual bloodshot stronghold every time i wanted to play the damtop level, i’d be running it all the time. sigh.

Atlas Campus immediately made me think of the Meridian Metroplex, but that’s definitely not it. In the instagram trailer we see Rhys on the ‘Atlas HQ rooftop’ with Zer0, so I’m gonna imagine Rhys is somewhere in the Atlas Campus.

Now if this is like an actual college campus, which i don’t think gearbox would do due to the implications, that’d be wild. I heard they had a mall designed for somewhere in the meridian metroplex, but we’re probably not actually allowed inside. which makes me sad, but also it probably holds no significance on the story. but then again... neither did caustic caverns. hmmmmmmmmm

oh also rhys is holding

whatever the fuck this is

uhhhhhhh... huhhhhh...

tbh i legitimately thought this was their attempt at macgyvering a vault key at first lmao

i know it’s a mission object because it has those glitteries, but... it reminds me a bit of Gortys’s core but i really don’t think that’s it. maybe another Atlas project to try and open a Vault? It just doesn’t look Eridian to me.

then again

this appears to be at the eridian dig site so... maybe it actually is Eridian. Definitely new to me.

some way to get inside the Vault area maybe? I can’t imagine that’s the actual Vault Key, because the one we see in the We Are Mayhem trailer doesn’t match.

you know i’ve been thinking more about vault colors

this one appears pink which... alright. maybe something to do with seraphs/seraph crystals.

The bl1 Vault was blue, the bl2 Vault was purple, the Vault of the Sentinel was... purple? blue? pink? all of the above? ... bisexual? tbqh there was a LOT going on there lol. wasn’t the Vault of the traveler yellow? either way

the big question here is: does each Vault have its own color scheme?

I wonder what that means since the Vault Mey has turned red now... it’s probably leading us to the big boy. the Vault to end all Vaults. 

now wouldn’t that be fun

right back to Promethea sorry

final listed area we get is called the Meridian Seaport. Which, if you know me, has got me all like 👀👀👀👀👀👀

water area? why yes PLEASE

i was actually talking to someone on reddit about said ‘seaport’ and it got me wondering if maybe this area is where we’ll find that one car from the Mask of Mayhem trailer. 

i can’t imagine what else those wing-like things on the side would be for. but i am definitely not a car person, like the closest i get is being a fan of Transformers, so maybe someone can enlighten me.

I am wondering if this area is the one we see in the instagram trailer with Moze

here

also i know we see water near where we find Zer0 in the demo, but that’s not really a dock area, more just a viewpoint. this has me thinking it’s an actual dock because the buildings are all off in the distance. It reminds me a lot of NYC actually lol

and interestingly enough i write about an assassination mission at a port on Promethea in one of my fanfics, but tbh i wasn’t actually expecting anything like it to be in-game. That was kind of an assumption I made since the area with Zer0 had water and I can’t believe I’m going to have to go back and edit it to be canon-compliant, cause I legitimately didn’t...

anyway.

Should i go over the instagram stuff now? I feel like i should go over the instagram stuff now.

see here is my problem with this

no moon

you’ll understand why once i compile my evidence

no moon

no moon!!

no moon

i even watched both time lapses during the amd stream and there was no hint of the moon (i understand promethea is in a state of perpetual twilight, but i thought maybe it would show up somewhere. it doesn’t. in fact it only shows the sun and this asteroid belt).

where is my moon, randy?

well let me tell you what i’m thinking here so you’re not even more confused

let’s go through that instagram video showcasing Promethea again

you should recognize this!

this is from that one video i reblogged like 4 times because i kept debating whether or not it was on promethea or pandora. now we can assume it’s on promethea but let me ask u something

if promethea doesn’t have a moon...

what the everloving fuck is that?

in fact, let me ask something

what does elpis look like in bl3?

look familiar?

hell yeah it does

now...

is this actually promethea?

I can’t imagine gearbox would be using footage that ISN’T from the planet they’re showcasing in a video about said planet. because that’s naughty. Plus, Rhys is shown giving us something that looks very similar to the tech in that area, and I can’t imagine we’d go through all that trouble just to get that tech then immediately go back to Pandora with whatever it is. whatever happened to the Promethean Vault Key we see in the We Are Mayhem trailer?

so there’s 2 options here if we’re under the assumption that dig site is/was on Promethea.

This dig site was moved from Promethea to Pandora

OR

Elpis was moved from Pandora to Promethea

Now i went over ALL of this in an old post. (seriously, give this a read if you haven't already, i go into this in a lot more detail than i will here). but we kinda got some new information.

My first instinct is that this dig site is on (or moved to) Pandora. just, 100% Pandora. the moon, the spiky rocks in the background, what look like Rakk near the back, there’s no asteroid belt in the sky. etc. etc.

do the blue sparkles have anything to do with it? maybe!

Also again, im not 100% certain this is actually a Vault. It just... doesn’t feel right to me. If this was actually on Pandora the entire time, then we’d have known about it through the Vault Map. We would have gone to open the 3rd Vault on Pandora before bl3 even began. If this really has been on Pandora the whole time, I do believe this isn’t actually a Vault. I go over this in that previous post I’ve made and I’m still standing by it. I think this is just an Eridian ruin and the Vault shape is just a statue or whatever. I could be 100% wrong, but that’s my first instinct if we’re being lead to believe this is on Pandora. 

Now I’m curious why this dig site was never mentioned in bl2 if it WAS on Pandora this whole time. And, again, if it actually does end up being a Vault, there’d be a huge plot hole with the whole Vault Map thing if it was on Pandora all along.

So was it moved here? Yeah... probably. For what reason? I... have no idea. How? similar answer. Lily couldnt’ve done it, she doesn’t have her powers anymore. Maybe activating it with whatever Rhys gives us makes it teleport to Pandora. For... reasons.

If it is a Vault, maybe it requires Elpis to open it. for some reason. We know Moon equals Key, so it could play into that. It definitely looks like it’s positioned directly in line with elpis.

but why would a Vault built on Promethea need a moon from a totally different planet to open it?

Because Promethea’s moon was destroyed.

That asteroid belt? I don’t think that’s there just for funsies (okay maybe the artists had funsies but the actual writing? yeah). And that big gun looking thing we see in both concept art and in the trailer? i think that thing fucked up Promethea’s moon to the point it shattered. So they couldn’t open that Vault.

alright, we all cool on this version of the theory?

let’s flip it on its head.

let’s consider:

Elpis was moved from Pandora to Promethea

NOT possible i hear you say

but hear me out.

what’s our reasons for saying this is Pandora?

“the moon, the spiky rocks in the background, what look like Rakk near the back, there’s no asteroid belt in the sky. etc. etc.”

Elpis? teleported! bah!

Spiky rocks? Well! We hear typhon mention a quarry, don’t we? one with brittle rock. This very well could be the quazmarian quarry he talked about where he found that very first Vault (and Vault Key). After all, if he fell into a hole and found it, it makes sense that there would be a shitload of dig teams trying to clear it out for easy access.

Rakk? We see those on Athenas, too, during the Happy Together trailer. Plus, they’re super chubby on the bottoms compared to what we see of the Rakk in the Claptrap Presents Pandora video. Maybe they’re not even Rakk.

Finally. Ah. The asteroid belt.

Well, if you believe that that giant gun could’ve obliterated Promethea’s moon, then is it so hard to turn around and believe that it’s actually obliterated the asteroids surrounding Promethea?

in fact, if we really ARE moving Elpis to Promethea, wouldn’t it make sense that we can’t have asteroids hitting Elpis for fear of worsening the Crackening and breaking our own moon?

In FACT, do we even SEE any asteroids above Promethea in that trailer shot of the bigass gun?

I THINK NOT.

There’s more to this theory, though.

from claptrap presents pandora

from the we are mayhem trailer

yeah, they COULD be celebrating the destruction of Elpis (because i would not be surprised if those are both near the same area)

lets think of something new, though. Elpis being blown up was totally 2015, with Zarpedon. That’s SO last season, Calypsos.

Plus, why would the calypsos even want the moon destroyed? is that not the home of a Vault that would allow them to see the future? how fucking powerful would that be, being able to see the future??? Jack knew what he had to do to win the Pandora games (even if he uhhh didn’t get to see that last bit because of Lilith), so why wouldn’t the Calypsos want to see their own futures?

There is the argument that they’ve already gone to Elpis and didn’t like what the Vault showed them, but I kinda assumed that they’d have gotten the funky eye things like Zarpedon did if they really did see what the Vault showed them. Given that Jack’s was interrupted by Lilith, we don’t really know if that’s truly the case.

I’m 100% down to blow up the moon cause Good Riddance, but also it needs to make sense WHY the calypsos want it blown up other than like shits and giggles? which... fine, but the story..? Elpis has to be important somehow. They have to want it blown up for some reason. A show of power? awesome, maybe they got that giant space gun. Moon = Key, so maybe they think if we can’t get this Vault, nobody can? sure why not. Destroying Pandora? Sure, but why blow up elpis when u could just also blow up pandora? 

either way, if the game gives us an actual reason as to why the twins are blowing up the moon, we’re all fine and dandy. if they’re going it just because then yeah, im gonna get kinda testy. 

anyway my point IS

The effect around elpis here looks strikingly familiar to the effect that appears around Lilith (and the cultists) when they’re teleported.

so it would be much cooler if, instead of blowing up Elpis, they were actually celebrating its movement. 

And it would be very interesting then, if this tied into that Easter Egg we got.

You know the one:

Because yeah im still iffy on the implication that this is from the Calypso twins. Why wouldn’t they want the Vaults opened? isn’t that the grand plan?

maybe this could be from the Eridians or the Guardians on Elpis. If Elpis was teleported from Pandora to Elpis, maybe the translation from Eridian -> English is slightly off, or simplified for the message. (on vs orbiting for example)

Visit Promethea -> Where we are right now, or where we’re going to go. We need you there.

Children of the Vault -> Yes, it could be the CoV cult that’s being referenced, but the way this is broadcasted, through morse code, spoken like an actual cryptic message and not, you know, with that Calypso flair... me thinks the cult simply adopted the name “Children of the Vault”. I think this may either be referencing Sirens, or the Vault Hunters/Crimson Raiders. Maybe the twins picked up this broadcast and that’s why they immediately head to Promethea after they steal Lilith’s powers.

We are not on Pandora anymore -> shit dudes we got yeeted to Promethea, help us. Or... we’ve moved elsewhere. We’re not nearby, we escaped, we fled, come find us on Promethea. 

Tannis is not what she seems -> this one... I don’t believe the Calypsos actually know anything about Tannis. If they do, then she was possibly the one to rescue/experiment on them, turning them into artificial Sirens or whatever, but then... isn’t Tannis exactly what she seems? She’s crazy, she totally would experiment on the twins. That is EXACTLY what she seems like. 

The people who would know about Tannis not being what she seems... the people who can see the future? The Guardians of the Sentinel’s Vault (maybe just the Guardians/Eridians in general). The Watcher can speak (speak? she uses telepathy, doesn’t she? that’s why Brick asks Lilith what she says) eloquently, I imagine there has to be more than one Watcher-like Guardian. Or this is the Watcher herself sending the message. 

Either way, if, later on in the game, Tannis starts showing signs of not being what she seems, then... wouldn’t it make sense that the only characters who knew this were the ones who could see the future? And given the new info, it makes sense that the Guardians/Eridians/yougetthegist would know her by name, because she could be the one who turned herself into an artificial Siren.  Or figured out how to create artificial Sirens. Whichever (both?). Which is kinda big news in the Eridian world, I’m sure. Plus, the wording using ‘What’ instead of ‘Who’ is kinda a big pointer. I’m almost leaning towards the idea that Tannis tried to give herself Angel’s phaseshifting abilities. I can’t see Tannis with actual offensive abilities... It wouldn’t really fit her character. But I can 100% see her with mad computer hacking skills, to the point she could ruin anything with a flick of her wrist. Yeah, I can see that. 

And I really hope Tannis doesn’t end up being a villain. She could do so much good with her intelligence and newfound powers and tbh it’s really nice seeing a character with autism not treated like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory (the butt of every joke). She feels real to me (as someone with autism)- she’s got her obsession (Eridians/Sirens/the Vaults), her crazy intelligence, the social phobia/unawareness. I really like her as a character (going from betraying us in bl1 to realizing her mistake and immediately trying to help and assisting the Crimson Raiders) and I’d really hate for her to become the villain just for... idk a shock twist? The shock twist should be that she’s a Siren or whatever, not that she’s going to betray us. I like Tannis :( And all the message says is Tannis is Not What She Seems, not that we shouldn’t trust her or that she’s going to betray us.

Do Not Open the Vaults -> well this is the whole thing, isn’t it? this is why I think this message has some sort of Eridian origin, instead of the Calypsos cult. The Calypsos WANT the Vaults open. They want that ‘universe-destroying’ power. They want to absorb the powers of the Vault monsters. Shit, even we Vault Hunters want to open the Vaults for some of that sweet, sweet loot. But who doesn’t want the Vaults opened? The Eridians.

oh yeah we were talking about Promethea. how the fuck did i get here?

oh the moon

yeah it could have just been a shot in the Instagram trailer they used to show off the ‘Eridian alien technology’. that’s not fun to talk about tho lmfao. plus the thingie Rhys holds matches up so well with the cool technology we get

anyway

the instagram trailer. we’re not even like halfway done with this post btw. still gotta do those beautiful screenshots

oh

trailer

sorry it’s like 1am im starting to lose focus im shifting into sleepy mode

i just love the aesthetic of this city.

also. that one building with the 0 on it? you can’t convince me Rhys didn’t give Zer0 their own skyscraper.

oh, you want an entire building to store all your loot and trophy kills? OF COURSE ZER0 ANYTHING FOR YOU

yes....... Eridian log.

im really excited to see it glowing. especially since it’s glowing red, like the Vault Map/key/you know. I hope that has some significance. 

i did boost the brightness and noticed it was part of a wall, not just one slab found elsewhere. makes me think this is part of a Temple. maybe part of the dig site below? we know that one is connected to some sort of building. and if it glows red, that’d be a really neat tie in to why Atlas always has that glowing red aesthetic going on in their bases.

still not done talking about this shot. yeah the stuff on the right looks similar to the thing Rhys hands us. NOT why i brought it back up tho. The guardian statues in the back seem very ‘low poly’. VERY different to the guardian statues we have on Pandora. they’re also holding staffs which is new. 

compare

these ones also seem much buffer than the guardians we see. with shorter necks, as well.

Maybe these are statues of ACTUAL Eridians? not just Guardians or any other construct (further proof for my theory Pandora was a Guardian production planet lol) but like what Eridians actually look like.

shorter necks, thicker limbs (because why would the constructs NEED muscles?), actual bodies that aren’t thin as twigs. I think we found it boys

this is the ideal Eridian body

no cause, seriously, if they ARE guardians, why are they so BUFF?? i don’t GET IT

also weird  this atlas gun isn’t wrist mounted. Atlas sniper confirmarinoed? or just an Old Atlas gun. sure. that too.

Moze on a turret near what i assume is the Meridian Seaport. She has what i think is an Atlas pistol equipped. There’s a dead guy leaning up against some cinder blocks, all cozy-like. 

better shot of the area. We talked about this earlier, so moving on!

Okay... so is THIS the New Atlas sniper? it looks like nigel thornberry’s nose

smashing.

we saw this before, too. im actually really excited to look out over the Promethea skyline from the top of a skyscraper. also, idk, rhys’s hand looks like a yaoi hand to me. like his fingers are above the F in strongfork, right? look how far away his thumb is. YEESH.

it’s actually ONLY rhys lol

An Atlas soldier at work! I like that their gear has the crimson lance logo on it. And the new Atlas symbol. I feel like if we have to fight these guys, the crit spot is gonna be that backpack.

maliwan robo!!!

a big boy. one of the flying ones too iirc from the We Are Mayhem trailer. 

Atlassss in the back. it’s weird that the second A in Atlas is the logo, not the first one. the first one is a triangle. that’s weird is it supposed to be signalling something else? a triangle with a circle around it. i don’t even know what that might be a logo for. hm.

oh also police bots i guess, but we see these dudes a lot.

im more interested in this thingie in the back. wonder what happened to it/what it is

ratches. blegh.

i hate these things jfc. they’re so gross.

i like that maliwan is just claiming things by throwing their flag up on it. that’s not how this works! that’s not how any of this works!

anyway.

how are those screenshots lookin

pretty good.

im pretty sure i’ve mentioned this before, but i love that they named this part of the city Meridian and then kept the Eridian logo in the spelling. it’s so fuckin dorky to me.

also i know we’re supposed to hate these robos, but at least they’re getting some characterization as enemies. the loaderbots in bl2 do this but not to a degree that they get their own interactions (LB being the exception of course). I like this.

also i love that parts of the city are color coded. like red and blue parts are different areas. It’s such a neat way to help people not get lost (cough, me) and it fits great into the design of the city with the neon lights and bright colors. I noticed this in the gameplay demo as well, tho i don’t remember if it was followed. Also I’m pretty sure that symbol up there

is what the blue area is called. could be wrong. but i think i saw this during the demo as well.

i think this is going to be my favorite area to visit on Promethea, hands down. I love this little living area. It feels so unlike anywhere we’ve visited in previous games, like it feels like somewhere Gaige could be from. Actually, iirc Roland was from Promethea, wasn’t he? Be wild if we visited his house here. Anyway, I’m also excited about the trees. Fucking! Trees!

and cars!!! holy shit yeah on Pandora we only ever saw like light runners or bandit technicals and the occasional bus. all the cars were broken down and stripped for parts! It’s really cool to see actual full cars here.

wow i am excited over the most mundane shit lol

wait till you guys hear about the PARKING LOT

OHHHH YEAH

CROSSWALKS TOO

lol im actually- i just love this area. i love it so much. this is lovely. i love the giant glowing reactor in the background too, i 100% hope we get to interact with that (posssssibly blow it up. maybe just a little.) I can see this area being the area we have to run through to reach the entrance of that thing. I mean, it’s just RIGHT THERE.

Also would not be surprised if this KV fellow is waiting for us there. “Who wants to BANG a billionaire indeed”. He’s totally gonna be a boss fight. BANG i imagine means more shooty shooty than innuendo... innuendo...

it sounded better in my head.

the symbol for the red area possibly on that tower in the back?

I’m like, 60% sure this isn’t the area we explore with Lorelei, so maybe this is the Titan Skyway? also maybe the bridge Moze and Fl4k drop off of in the Happy Together trailer.

hate. i would quote AM here but im tired so just imagine the entire ‘Hate’ quote here because i HATE these things.

there’s also a big skelly in the back, i wonder just how big these fuckin things can grow. hopefully uhhh like a cow died here or smth. cuz fuck man.

this area is also super green and watery so i wonder if this is a sewer or smth. that’d be wild lol

Another shot of the city. It’s so fucking beautiful. I really love how they went all out for this. Opportunity was great, but it wasn’t nice to look at. Promethea is fucking STUNNING. I love this place way too much. Never even been here before.

also i love the fog coming up from the bottom. Maybe this shot is taken from the water? god if we get to go on the water and then it starts fogging up i might actually start crying lol.

this building is my favorite by far i think. I love the way the middle turns in. I have no idea how that’d work like... from an inside standpoint, cause the ground would just be slanted under you but im sure they made it work somehow.

anyway. im gonna go cry myself to sleep over how beautiful this game is. sorry i talked like... WAY too much during this one lol.

also i just thought of this while writing the tl;dr but maybe that item rhys gives us is after all the Promethea stuff is over, even the Vault(s), maybe we need it to activate something in that vault statue area on Pandora and that’s our way to like some important Vault or the Eridian homeworld or smth and we gotta collect all the pieces to activate it. like it’s a teleporter. Maybe Rhys had a piece because that’s what was in the Vault of the Traveller. I mean it would make sense because if you didn’t want someone to have something, you fuckin hide it in a box that’s teleporting across the galaxy at random intervals. That might be our way to the Eridian Homeworld. Now wouldn’t that be neato...