#obviously the changes between deaths are not substantial

[absensia]

There is a cost for resurrection, even for a vessel such as Charlotte. As a vessel for the primordial void, Charlotte's body undergoes a supernaturally rapid decomposition after death, decaying so completely and so quickly that in a matter of a couple scant hours, there will be nothing left of her whatsoever. What took a mere fraction of a day to break down, however, will take ( at least ) a few days to reassemble. ( To date, the shortest amount of time it's taken for Charlotte to return is 49 hours; the longest absence was 8 days. )

In the time between her complete decomposition and her reappearance in our reality, the vessel we know as Charlotte must be reassembled, rather painstakingly, by Khaos itself. Just as it did when it first created this vessel, Khaos brings together the fragments of a being: personality traits, memories, stories, and eventually, the physical form, too. Piece by piece, it reassembles the killed and obliterated doll and then, once it feels she is once more ready, like on that sunny day in June all those years ago, it reintroduces this vessel we know as Charlotte back into this reality, this world, this life. As such, it appears, for the most part, that while she may not be totally invincible or capable of auto-resurrection on a god-like level, Charlotte has no real reason to fear death. If she dies, she can be almost certain that she will be back to cause more trouble in no time. But resurrection does not come without a cost and this is a fact Charlotte has become increasingly aware of the more she has gone and come back, gone and come back. . .

"There's never enough...to fill the hole up again." To make a long story short, Stephen King's Pet Sematary revolves around the resurrection of dead things ( animals and people ) and how sometimes, dead is better, because nothing that comes back to life ever comes back exactly the way it was before. There will always be something missing, something wrong. Charlotte's resurrection, at the hands of Khaos, is not an exception to this idea. Each time Charlotte dies and comes back, she may seem mostly intact and to be picking up exactly where she left off, but she is not, in fact, the same. With each "respawn," the vessel will be adjusted and changed based on what the Void deems necessary, but mostly (!) the process of reassembly itself means that there will "never be enough" to make Charlotte exactly as she was again.

Just as a "wound never [seems] to fill in completely" despite being considered healed and healthy once more, the resurrected vessel will, by nature of chaos and decay, contain less and this is the cost of resurrection. For better or worse, there remains a heavy consequence for dying and so, as comical as it sounds, Charlotte has learned to take dying more seriously. With each resurrection, there runs the risk of her losing memories and perhaps some of her humanity, but most assuredly, she loses more of what makes her her... More specifically, with each resurrection, Charlotte grows colder, steadier in a way, and while she may seem more or less the same on the outside ( as Khaos wants to maintain her likeness and essence ), by and by, if you look closely, you won't find the same spark in her eyes that she has now to set her apart from the cold abyss of the primordial entity that resides inside her. Like a wound, Charlotte never heals completely. There is never enough to fill the vessel again. But if there is not enough of her to come back after death, then what must fill the vessel upon its return is obvious: absence. Absence is the cost of resurrection.

[danmei-confessions]

I think we should talk about Wu Zetian, China’s only female emperor, who historically has been regarded as a horrible and brutal leader.

She was born a commoner, became a concubine to one emperor, married his son and then took the role of emperor for herself when he died. She was politically adept, highly ambitious and extraordinarily intelligent.

History has accused her of smothering her newly born daughter and blaming a rival for her death. She had that rivals hands and feet cut off and then had her thrown into a vat of wine in which she was left to drown. She gouged out another rivals eyes and had acid poured down her throat. She wiped out 12 entire branches of a clan. She poisoned her mother. Just how accurate these things are is up for debate, but while these things might not all be true, she certainly did have several family members killed. And she did deal with her rivals and her detractors ruthlessly. Yet none of these things would have attracted criticism if she had been a man. She was no more scandalous than any other ruler during that time period.

But! Her rule was peaceful and prosperous. She avoided wars and welcomed ambassadors from as far away as the Byzantine empire. She changed laws so common people could be chosen for roles in government for their abilities rather than their name or status. She acknowledged and acted on criticisms from her retainers. She built watchtowers along the Silk Road so merchants wouldn’t be harrowed by bandits. Her reign saw women given more freedom(the ability to divorce, hold government positions, travel, hunt and ride horses, to be recognized by scholars).

She supported Buddhism and helped the religion spread and grow through commissioning temples, monasteries, and even a statue of the Buddha said to be carved in her own likeness. In the eyes of the common people, she likely would have been an incredibly popular ruler.

She remains a controversial figure primarily because of stories about her personal actions against her rivals by male Confucian officials who were prejudiced against strong and ambitious women and while they undoubtedly exaggerated aspects of Wu’s life, there is still substantial verifiable evidence of her ruthlessness.

We should also be aware that although she allegedly held her power through murder and merciless, according to Confucian philosophy, ‘while an emperor should not be condemned for acts that would be crimes in a subject, he should be judged harshly for allowing the state to fall into anarchy’ and viewed under this lens, Wu did effectively fulfill her duties as a ruler.

So we have a leader of ancient china who had two faces, one who committed acts of vile cruelty against her family and rivals and one who gave her citizens peace and prosperity.

Through a modern lens she can be viewed as an evil woman who rose from humble beginnings and coldly and calculatingly murdered her way into arguably the most powerful position in the world. A rich woman who threw crumbs to her peasant people while she lived luxuriously. She is a deadly woman, a black widow, an evil stepmother, a kinslayer. But according to historians, “without Wu there would have been no long enduring Tang dynasty and perhaps no lasting unity of China.”

The comparison to a modern mr beast obviously doesn’t hold water, but we can certainly analyze jgy to a more comparable historical figure and argue more accurately in a historical context if jgy was a good leader as the de facto emperor as the cultivation worlds Xiāndū.

It’s easy to see the comparisons between Wu and jgy, both were undesirable and deemed unfit by society. But both were politically adept, highly ambitious and extraordinarily intelligent. Both had family members murdered, perhaps sharing between them filicide. Both had a clans murdered to a man. Both are thought to have had their faces carved on religious relics for their narcissistic pleasure. Both had watchtowers built as a defense for their people. And both were torn down by the men following after them, vilified and distorted. Both forever destined to be speculated upon and misunderstood. Both of their legacy’s destroyed by rumor and falsification. It would not surprise me in the slightest if mxtx didn’t draw on Wu at least a little bit in the creation of jgy. Both Wu and jgy are culpable for some pretty heinous stuff, that can’t be denied. But like Wu, jgy also has a second face.

Moral bias and character motivation aside, his efforts to build watchtowers, his patronage of religion in the building of Guanyin temple, his fight against political corruption, his years long peaceful reign, his charity, all these things lead to the conclusion that under the rule of Confucian, he more than aptly fulfilled his role as a leader for his citizens.

And if you really want to look at Jgys leadership through a modern lens, we really don’t have to look much further than Ingersoll. “If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power.”

And really that’s part of the tragedy of his character. Because of his background he excelled when he was in a role of leadership. He was good at it.

Whether or not jgy as a literary character is a good person, is subjective and should not be used to measure his role as an effective leader.

All of that being said, jgy is my bestfriend and I love him and would I die for him.

.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

My knowledge of the books isn't as great, so I hope you don't mind this question. Where was Eomer during the First Battle at the Fords? Did he arrive in time to find Theodred's dead body? Was he there at all? Thank you so much!

I absolutely don’t mind, and I understand why this is something that’s not clear! The full timeline isn’t obvious even from the LOTR books — you have to supplement what we know about Éomer from Two Towers with info from Unfinished Tales, which has the only account of the battle where Théodred was killed. But the short answer is that Éomer was dealing with business elsewhere so he wasn’t part of the fighting at the Isen, and he never saw Théodred’s body — only his grave after the fact. Here’s the long answer:

In late February, Théodred was in the Westfold, which was his territory as 2nd Marshal. Scouts alerted him to troops from Isengard preparing to invade from the west. Acting on his own authority — because his dad was Not Well — he went to meet the challenge with Grimbold and their men and also sent a summons to Elfhelm in Edoras asking that he come with relief troops of his own. We don’t know *exactly* what Éomer was doing right then, but he was 3rd Marshal and his jurisdiction was the East-mark. So he had his own stuff going on, and the bulk of his men would be further away from the Isen than Elfhelm and his men were, so Elfhelm was a more natural relief choice.

The First Battle of the Fords of Isen happened on Feb. 25th, and Théodred was killed that night.   We’re not told what day he was buried, but we do know that his grave was there, with his banner flying above it, when the Second Battle of the Fords began on March 2nd. So somewhere in between, Elfhelm and Grimbold buried Théodred at the Fords, right where he died. That means this image from the movies, while lovely and moving, is non-canonical — Théodred never got back to Edoras and wasn’t buried there:

News of Théodred’s death came first to Erkenbrand at Helm’s Deep on Feb. 26th, and Erkenbrand sent word on to Edoras. That messenger didn’t make it to Edoras until midday on the 27th, which is the same day Éomer set out to track down the band of orcs (those carrying Merry and Pip, it turns out) that had just been reported in the east. There is some ambiguity as to whether Éomer heard the news of Théodred’s death before he left or not, but he indisputably spent the next few days engrossed in other urgent stuff that would have kept him from grieving or visiting the grave — he had to go track down and slay those orcs; he ran into Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in the plains and had to decide whether to let them go; and then, when he got back to Edoras, he got thrown in jail for having acted without orders and for letting those foreigners run free in Rohan. He didn’t get out of jail until March 2nd, when Gandalf healed Théoden, and then they were off straight away to Helm’s Deep.

It’s not until after victory has been achieved at Helm’s Deep and all our heroes are on the road to confront Saruman that they pass by the Isen and take notice of the graves that are there. It’s a bit of a sore point for me that NO ONE mentions that Théodred is among the dead (😵😖🤯), but at least Éomer is thinking of him because he is the one to mention the murder of Théodred among Saruman’s biggest crimes when Saruman is trying to sweet talk his way back into Théoden’s good graces once they get to Isengard (“Remember Théodred at the Fords and the grave of Háma in Helm’s Deep!”).

Anywho, obviously the movies chose to mix up the timelines and events a bit for their own dramatic purposes, since they have Éomer arriving at the tail end of the fighting at the Fords, finding Théodred still alive, and bringing him back to Edoras before his death and funeral. It’s a substantial change from the books, but I do really like that they found a way to put Théodred in the movies and to give proper weight and notice to his death! And thanks for the question, I hope the answer was helpful!

[iridescentscarecrow]

i've mentioned the categorisation prevalent in early csm before in my 156 post but i think the way this human/devil dichotomy is engaged with through aki, and how this engagement is so intertwined with both the ghost devil/future devil collaboration and the mouse metaphor is very important in how it eventually feeds into denji.

because devils in their essence are despite aki's categorisation, in reality, ultimately shackled by humans. devils are ideas that are built out of human fears and imaginings. devils are used as tools by the public safety while simultaneously being the ones they fight against.

fujimoto's story telling is non normative. it doesn't attribute evil to even an agent such as makima. it sets these agents against structure. aki meanwhile does categorise into good and evil, and this re: how he frames his goal is what consigns him into structure.

denji's encounter with him sets for us much of early csm, as we see denji's artificial goal formation occurs through a mimicry of aki's. this is despite much of his reality and initial circumstances being more similar to power's (the pet/pochita for denji -> artificiality of Dream Goal). power attempts to empathise with denji's situation at the bat devil location meanwhile

aki overtly attempts not to do this, in spite of being a character who is able to empathise (reading this ability in the frame of the very devil/human duality he imagines). this is obviously visible in his treatment of denji in early p1.

when he sees denji as a human, he smokes the cigarette and throws it onto denji. its an implicit sharing of a role, as well an acknowledgement of the wastedness of it. it's so interesting to me that this "kindness" of his makes him try to kick denji out from Structure.

the notable change here is when makima describes how denji is bound and threatens denji's life in front of aki. because makima is structure, and aki's categorised viewpoint does not allow for defiance of structure.

we see him for a split second exhibit concern. and in the same chapter he tells denji, despite being just told that denji is a hybrid: "if you're a devil, be grateful we're letting you live." this categorisation allows him to ignore denji's circumstance and immerse himself into his goal.

holding both angel and reze's occupation of the role of the country mouse is something that informs the parallels between their respective beach scenes. there's a lot of flesh to this re: reze//angel and makima which i'm not elaborating on here but i find it poignant how both scenes involve the country mouse asking aki//denji about the person they like, the relation to structure, makima.

and the artificiality of structure is something that's constructed for denji in makima's case (not just her self, but also the Family) and for aki, it's a substantiation derived from himeno, a repetition around the idea of Ghost.

himeno's character is so very interesting to me, in her expression of messy agency. the cigarette shared between akimeno is a signifier of the fatalism that clouds (pardon the pun) their relationship. and this fatalism centres around the choice being made by himeno (and aki) to stay in PS, within aki's doomed pursuit.

this pursuit isn't one shared by himeno, we know this from her letters. himeno has the ability to leave but chooses to stay. understanding her agency through the Ghosts of her old buddies she bestows upon aki is so important because

himeno's also the one who teaches aki to smoke, shares with him her own fatalism, derives a feeling self from this encounter, one both outwardly irreverent and inwardly desperate.

she muses about this feeling, contrasting her emptiness in the graveyard in the moments before her death. her love for aki is very much an expression of her own autonomy, a choice that you see repeat in aki: in the rift between flashback!aki and his present self. the imbued expectance of death.

he attempts to connect with her and this triggers her writing herself into his tragedy. because he's soft. because he cries when people die, and will cry at the graveyard where she stood in front of her buddies' graves

a Ghost isn't the person who died, it's the concentration (the intangible effect of them) on the person who lived. himeno recreates herself onto aki as she becomes more and more unlike the empty self in the graveyard. the ghost devil is a marker of how her agency enacts onto aki his own personal tragedy.

and this is where easy revenge comes in. the ghost devil is the one that hands aki this cigarette. himeno's ghost mirrors both how he translates his family and the element of choice so central to the aki//denji interplay. categorisation comes back here because at its core:

easy revenge is. revenge that's easy! simple! i will blame the gun devil (an Other) for my family's death, despite it being a product of multiple causal (human) factors. this externalisation will further lock me into the structure responsible for its production and make me its agent, partaking in and re-enacting these very cycles that made me hurt in the first place.

fjmt literally hits us over the head with this line of thought in the implication that mkm in essence coordinated the gun devil contractors. and in the end the nut kicking competition is himeno's requiem, aki's easy revenge, the cigarette ghost handed him.

and the irony is that this competition (this setting into structure) is shared with denji, someone who borrows his goal from aki but whose circumstances resemble power's, angel's, reze's.

the halfway there city mouse (choosing both choices in part two), himeno's choice too located within denji in the rooftop's scene's extension. she stays in the PS for aki, denji refuses to run away with reze because of makima’s construction. but delinking denji from his proximity to aki/goal formation reminds us of the muscle devil arc, denji offering to leave with the girl.

and you see this happen!! despite the refusal: a recognition of this connection is what makes denji ask reze to run away with him at the beach. and aki too finds himself on the beach. he quits smoking alongside him starting to use the future devil’s powers. future offsets ghost (past) and is responsible for the entirety of aki’s horrific tragedy, that subversion.

the beach is the site where the city mice attempt to detach from structure. denji leaning away from makima (the root of the artificial goal formation), aki leaning towards family (contradictory to Ghost/his externalised goal). 

in both cases, this attempt is subsumed by makima. she takes & repurposes reze’s prior violence onto denji in the alleyway. she swallows up both angel’s complicity in that scene and their remembering their past into chaining aki, finally, entirely devoid of agency, enshrined into that structure.

and in a feat of sick irony, aki becomes the Ghost (the gun he externalised his anger and direction into) for denji. this is the worst possible death, denji’s forced mirror whose very frame and viewpoint is upset and molded in a way to force denji along his own structure, the story makima writes for the chainsaw man.

[prettyboykatsuki]

i'd like to hear ur interpretation of hawks if u are open to sharing 🤲🏽 i love hearing you talk abt media and analysis stuff

BELOVED!!! HELLOO AND YES i would love to talk about it though i think i might genuinely ruffle some feathers ajkdkjs but this is just my personal opinion of hawks ! !

one of my main like. gripes with keigos character and how people write hawks is the way they handle his moral reasoning. i think the bnha fandom does this quite a bit where a character who is very obviously meant to be multifaceted is like washed out by one or two actions when those actions aren't derivative of his character.

i find this to be the most egregious in the instance of hawks killing twice. this fight is extremely, extremely complex and i must make it clear that is one of the cruelest actions in the entire series and it is one of hawks worst moments of betrayal and people are allowed to not like him over it

but it doesn't stop me from sympathizing with his character in anyway because this death unlike many before it, starts to change hawks fundamentally (seen in chapter 374)

i think hawks is a character worthy of criticism, but not nearly as much as he is usually subjected to. he's not quite like deku in which he's unable to grasp that hero society needs reform especially because he feels a sense of distaste for the hero commission.

nor is he deluded at any point about the positions of heroes and villains. he is genuine in his effort for reforming, and his compliance with the hero comm. doesn't erase his intent. he prioritizes the public because he is hopeful to the point of denial

his biggest character flaw is more than other things, the sense of detachment he's garnered as a result of his trauma. he's a character who has intellectualized his emotions for nearly his entire life, as proven by his backstory. his sense of victimhood and of being saved is very, very warped because his tactic of survival since childhood has been in some aspect - compartmentalizing his reality. running away. severing his connections much like his parents did.

this is one of the main ways that he and dabi differ. they are quite literally two different responses to intense physical and verbal abuse with dabi being fight and hawks being flight (ironically enough). hawks takes on the role of the good victim, convincing himself it's better to endure everything. he spends his entire childhood like that, and he is only free from that abuse when endeavor comes to save him.

hawks' idolization is another one of those things that people pretty consistently use to derail his character. but i think it's important to recognize that hawks and dabi view endeavor in similar but opposite lights.

their perceptions of him are exacerbated by their circumstances. each of them, respectively, have a relatively extreme / exaggerated view of him. for hawks it was the idea of endeavor and being a savior that allowed to him to survive, and for dabi it was endeavors abuse and the need for vengeance that motivated him to stay alive.

all of that to say - hawks was groomed nearly his entire life to become a hero. he was never given room to process the things he endured, and perhaps the most substantial difference between hawks and dabi is that he is so unbearably isolated from everything. dabi being in the league plays such a huge role in his life but for hawks. he has no friends and his only semblance of self-worth is derived from the idea of Endeavor giving him the time of day and being 'helpful'. he spends nearly his entirely life chasing after the idea of being good and it ruins him in almost every way.

hawks will always be a victim worthy of sympathy to me. his participation in a system that failed him over and over and his hope for that system to change will never allow me to dislike him, even despite the heinous atrocities he's committed against loved ones. he isn't a good person but i don't think he's a bad one either. his obsession with leisure always clues me into the fact that there's probably some part of him that didn't want all this and that sincerely wanted to be good that was absolutely snubbed by the hero commission and it breaks my heart. that's the part of this thats personal and controversial probably.

he feels a lot like a war vet to me. my hope for his arc is that he will realize much in that same vain that this level of corruption needs major reform and that he is able to reflect on that and use his influence in the future for good.

[attackfish]

Do you have any thoughts on what, if anything, would have changed if ursa had come from a noble family with a lot of political power instead of having no connections at court? Obviously ozai would still be awful and ozai, but would he still have been able to make ursa disappear? Would he have faced meaningfully more political backlash for that and for banishing zuko? I’m particularly curious about a scenario where ursa’s parents are alive for at least a significant chunk of zuko and azula’s lives (into zuko’s banishment maybe?), and have a decent amount of political clout. Ty in advance, I always love reading your thoughts (and you have the best ursa takes)!

I have, actually. The process of making metas and AUs for me necessitates the constant picking apart of the causal relationship of various parts of the Avatar universe, and creating countless counterfactuals. And since I have a couple of universes in which for one reason or another Ozai gets to marry the worthy daughter of a noble house, I've had to consider this very scenario, or at least one similar to it.

However, there are important differences between the scenarios I have written so far, and an AU in which Ursa herself is from a powerful noble family. In each of the AUs I have written so far in which Ozai marries a noble, he is already Firelord, he chooses his own bride, he has already been married to Ursa, so a pattern has been set, and Ursa's children exist and are the children of his first marriage.

So what would a scenario where Ozai's first marriage, as a prince, and at his father's direction, is to the noble Ursa, and his children are born of such a union, look like? How would it be different from his marrage, say, to Firelady Yuki?

I have argued in the past, and I continue to argue, that Ozai clearly is not capable of being in a non-abusive relationship with anyone he has power over, however, the depth of resentment he clearly feels towards Ursa has a lot to do with the circumstances of their marriage. Ozai is the substantially less favored son of the Firelord, and his father tells him in a thousand little ways that he will never be as good as Iroh, and in cannon, marrying Ozai to effectively a peasant woman, in order to engage in a breeding experiment, is part of this pattern, and must have been a real slap in the face. Canon Ursa would not have been a suitable wife for the Firelord, and Iroh would never have been given such a bride.

But Ursa the daugher of a powerful noble house, whose family was able to weather Sozin's reign, Roku's death, and any fall in prestige, would not be such an insult. She might also be a suitable bride for a Firelord, certainly for a Firelord's son or brother. The kind of bride, in other words that Ozai might expect to be given, and that he would see himself as entitled to. If Ozai doesn't actually respect her, or view her through the lens of her own humanity, he at least doesn't hate her quite so much at the start of their marriage.

Likewise, if Ursa has a powerful family behind her, it would be far harder for her to be kept in the shadows, away from the court and politics, and there would be every expectation that she would be a political player in her own right. Ursa would come to the marriage with expectations as to how her life as the wife of a prince would play out. He would know how to run a prince's household, she would expect to do it. And she would not be entirely dependent on the royal family for any status and power she would have, since she would have her own family's prestige.

Part of this change might well be in how her relationship with Ikem would play out. If he were still a commoner, she probably would have known almost all her life that they would never be able to marry, and they would never be together. And Ozai would be less likely to know about him, or to view him as a threat, and so less likely to use him against Ursa. If he were instead noble, and of similar status to Ursa, it would probably be far too risky to attempt to assassinate him.

And a change in Ursa's status would have a profound change on a status of her children, since they would have powerful family on their mother's side, who gain more power, more prestige, through their existence as blood royals. The non-royal families of royal children have, in most monarchies, firmly and influencially championed the causes of their royal relatives. This would make it harder for Ozai to so dramatically favor one of his children over the other, at least as the second prince.

After he makes himself Firelord, however, all bets are off. If Ozai doesn't come to his marriage hating his wife, he is not actually capable of respecting her, and he would absolutely still view her as disposable, so he might still banish her to conceal any role she might have in Azulon's death, or of course, as a suitable noble wife for a Firelord, she might become Firelady. And depending just how strong the Firelord is compared to his nobles, and the show seems indicate very strong, Firelord Ozai might simply feel empowered to be the abusive sack of shit he always has been, and with the brakes off, he is free to favor his daughter over his son as much as he wishes to, and there is nothing Ursa or her family can really do about it. In other words, conversely, becoming Firelady might be a real drop in Ursa's power and prestige.

[gaia-aviva]

I thought I liked Endgame but as time went on I realized I only liked parts of it. And the more I think about it, the more I realize Endgame didn't have to be as disappointing as it was. I feel like even just a few changes would have greatly improved the movie:

Having an actual scene where Tony and Steve talk about what happened between them. Instead, the movie rushed their reconciliation and we're left to assume they worked out their issues off-screen. (They HAD to have talked sometime in the five-year time gap in Endgame.  You don’t get from “No trust liar” to “If you don’t talk shop, you’re welcome to stay for lunch” without reaching some kind of understanding).

It would have been good to have seen that on screen. It definitely would have been a better use of screen time than Fat Thor and all the offensive and not-funny jokes that came with it. Getting rid of the Fat Thor subplot and giving us more Steve and Tony content would have been a big improvement for the film.

Another thing that we didn't get was any type of closure between Bucky and Tony. There should have been a scene where Bucky saved either Pepper or Tony during the Battle of Earth and Tony would thank him and let him know he's not a murderer, etc, basically make their peace. Heck, even just a nod to each other on the battlefield would have been better than nothing. It certainly would have been more substantial than that contrived girl-power scene.

The aforementioned Tony, Steve, and Bucky scenes I've suggested would have also have helped heal the rifts in the fandom. Obviously not the hard-core haters, but antis on both sides capable of seeing reason would likely soften their stance on the characters.

All this of course doesn't address all of the problems with Endgame, (Natasha's death, Tony's death, Steve's ending, the fact that the MCU had reached its logical conclusion but was still going to continue..., etc.), but I feel like even those changes alone would have drastically improved the film.

[sams-venting]

To be completely honest, the show isn't... good. It's like, passable at best. It has good ideas and earnest storytelling, but the execution of those ideas is often hit-or-miss. Even when a good idea is well-executed, it usually overstays its welcome and becomes stale really fast. Nothing ever amounts to anything. Nothing ever has any weight. Who cares if such-and-such dies for the umpteenth time? We know we'll see them again in, like, at most a couple weeks. There are no stakes, and there's no reason to believe any of the characters will have evolved in any meaningful way around such a time that the show ends.

I'm not saying I don't like the show. It is kind of hard to watch, though. If uploads weren't daily and the team had more time to really give these cool ideas and story beats the attention they deserve, I would be a huge fan. I don't even mind that it's basically improv because they're all really good at improv! That's a huge deal, considering they're acting in VR! That isn't my issue with the show, I like improv. But the team have done themselves a disservice by not really making a concrete decision about the age demographic and by locking themselves into such a demanding upload schedule. It's like they've gathered a bunch of really nice and fresh ingredients for a cake, combined everything into a batter, and then didn't leave it in the oven long enough.

I really hate to say it, but I'm very much reminded of High Guardian Spice if anyone remembers that. There's so much potential for a good show, so much talent, such cool ideas, but there's not a sturdy enough foundation to carry all these good things.

And I hate to be so critical, I honestly do, because I'm sure it's not easy. I don't wanna look at something that people clearly spend a lot of time and effort on, something I even enjoy, and just shit all over that hard work. So, I guess I better try to make this constructive, at least?

So, here's what I would do if I was in charge:

Obviously, the daily upload schedule is good for the algorithm, but it doesn't lend itself well to the show's pacing. These ideas and story beats need space to breathe and run their full course, which is really difficult to make happen in a 15 - 20 minute time frame. Even if it was like, a twice a week upload schedule (still a pretty substantial amount), there'd be way more time to flesh episodes out and really use those 15 - 20 minutes as efficiently as possible. Plus, I'm sure it'd be way less stressful.

I would also try to space out the amount of big, dramatic events that leave the characters traumatized and needing therapy. When they happen so frequently, you start to wonder how the characters aren't completely jaded by now. In between all the big adventures and dying several times and always having to defend themselves from the villains, there should be way more moments of levity. Those moments can still be serious and develop the characters' personalities, but if the big drama is constantly happening, it just becomes the background hum, you know? It loses its impact when it's the norm.

Ideally, I feel like the show would resemble ATLA a lot more. You can have your serious themes, your death, your jokes, your magic, your fun, your family drama, your badass villains, your characters growing and changing and discovering themselves, and you can even make that all happen in a show that appeals to all ages! It's possible! But it's really difficult to reach that point if you don't give yourself more than like 12 hours to craft each episode.

.

[acti-veg]

Someone recently posited that dismissing "harvesting grain kills mice tho" with statistics about how much grain is fed to livestock is too detached and akin to "repeating propaganda" because that's not true everywhere.

They used Australia as an example of a place that "doesn't do COFA" and has a huge problem with the astronomical numbers of rodents dying in grain harvest. They claim that over there there are way more animal lives lost to grain harvesting than slaughter and that grain consumption is as optional as meat consumption, but vegans "dismissing" those concerns are doing nothing to help. They also said something about some vegans thinking intentional slaughter is objectively worse than incidental death due to monoculture, but that "utilitarians are held to a stricter moral standard" and that the sheer number of deaths should make it worse.

I don't even know where to begin learning the details of the food systems in Australia. I know the statistics and some details globally and in my home country but I feel out of my depth with this conversation. Do you have any guidance you could share?

Well the first thing to recognise is that Australia absolutely does do intensive feeding operations, that’s a frankly bizarre claim. There is no way they could feed the number of animals they farm and kill without it. Here is a farming consultancy talking about it and advocating it, here is the department of agriculture acknowledging pigs, sheep and cattle in feedlots, here is meat and livestock Australia discussing it, here is RSPCA Australia discussing it.

It took me about five minutes to find all of these, so they can’t have done much honest research on this topic. The same thing is true of the ‘huge problems of astronomical numbers of animal lives lost to grain. Australia is currently experiencing an ‘epidemic’ of mice due to sustainable unseasonable weather and rainfall, every reference I could find on this topic was talking about how we can get rid of them - there doesn’t seem to be any such concern about mice being lost to grain harvesting.

In fact, the only source I could find talking about this (making the exact same points you’ve included here) was written by the Center For Consumer Freedom, a notorious animal agriculture lobbying group. It’s literal propaganda. The sole reference in that piece is a ‘study’ they link to, which is actually just an opinion piece in The Conversation. The only actual source there is a paper that actually supports the opposite conclusion.

“While the number of mice found in fields substantially decreased after harvest, their numbers substantially increased in the border regions. When it came to disappearances, a category that included both mouse deaths and migration out of the study area, there was no significant difference between the three habitats. The study concluded that changes in the number of field animals were “the consequences of movement and not of high[er] mortality in crops”.

So the factual basis of this argument is obviously deeply questionable, but you can still make the argument ‘ok we don’t know details but it’s highly likely some animals do die to provide plants for human consumption.’ This is undoubtedly true. However, it’s not just true of grain, it’s true of all the plants, it’s true of medicine, building materials, electronics - everything. If we stopped eating grain they’d be calling us hypocrites for not boycotting sprouts.

Furthermore, who is dismissing these problems? I don’t know any vegan who doesn’t want to improve plant agriculture, arguing for agriculture without animal inputs is a fundamental part of what veganism is about. Acknowledging the reality that whatever we eat will cause harm is not hypocrisy, nor is trying to reduce that harm by boycotting industries who directly and purposely exploit and kill billions of animals for profit.

Veganism is, as we all know, about doing whatever is possible and practicable to avoid animal exploitation. We have to eat something. Incidental vs purposeful deaths absolutely do matter, animals die as a result of grain harvesting, but they’re not exploited for grain. Those things are ethically very different, even if both are wrong. We can harvest crops without harming animals, that is what veganic farming is, there is no way to produce animal products without exploiting animals.

As for ‘utilitarians are held to a stricter moral standard,’ since when? If we feed more humans from harvesting grain than we kill in producing it, that’d be fine for most utilitarians. Interestingly, it’d also create the moral imperative to feed that grain to humans directly rather than farmed animals, since those farmed animals will suffer to produce less food and produce less good than would have been produced had that grain been fed to humans directly.

However, that data just does not exist. It is a hugely speculative assumption that more animals are killed to produce grain than to produce meat, there isn’t anything even resembling reliable statistics on that front. It is also an argument only relevant to utilitarians which… is fine for them, but for anyone is not a utilitarian the response is just… okay, so what? I’m not a utilitarian.

This is phrased as if veganism is dependent on utilitarianism as part of its ethical principles, which they may have gotten from someone like Singer but it’s a misunderstanding to suggest that is what vegsnism is, and arrogant to insist we should all hold ourselves to the same ‘strict standard’ as utilitarians, whatever the hell that means.

In conclusion, it’s a confused piece of pseudo-philosophy, likely sourced from corporate propaganda, which is based on assumptions, the misrepresentation of data and some odd assumptions about the ethical basis for veganism. You don’t need to learn anything about the food systems of Australia to debunk this argument, since evidently the person making it didn’t bother to learn about it themselves.

[templeofshame]

did you ever get around to fully finishing stranger things? what did you think of the ending? love hearing your Thots and Onions lol

To be honest my friend and I are waiting on the second half of the s4 finale until s5 is out.  Yeah, that's weird, but I know most of what happens and it's mostly a bumner, so we haven't felt motivated to finish after she fell asleep mid-ep, and we got into Yellowjackets instead.

I do still have opinions though...

like I think Mike sucks this season and I don't buy him and El this season; they were so cute in the beginning but now they're all performative, lies and superheroes and I'm not sure he even sees her as a person, it's Very Important that El has people who care about her as a person and not as a magical deus ex machina. I do know he's gonna say he loves her like 6 times, I'm sure he believes it, I don't buy it.

I also feel like this season has a plot about trauma/survivor's guilt (via vecna/victims) and abuse (via el and a bit max) and I'm not sure very thoughtful about what it's saying about them. Forcing El to go work with her abuser, Max grieving hers, the relationship between Max and Nancy and El and others in terms of survivor's guilt... these are super complex interesting things that get barely touched on. And with Chrissy's apparent trauma seeming relatively mundane compared to what literally every major character has been through (and I forget what Patrick's is, is his name Patrick?), vecna's choices seem kinda weak. Maybe he says something in the second half but I'd rather them have all been dealing with survivor's guilt specifically.

I felt like the guitar scene was anticlimactic and weird for how much buildup eddie the guitarist had, and the plan seemed kinda bad? I guess it's harder for me to say how things should work though because the rules of the Upside Down have substantially changed since s1, like in this Upside Down Will and Barb could've just hid in someone's house with barely any tentacles, there seem to be lots of safe places.

What else... I think Jason was more worried about people thinking Chrissy was cheating on him than Chrissy's death. I think the jock death mob has vibes of that hyena episode of Buffy, and overall I think we could have a lot less of them (I like Lucas being caught in the middle but otherwise they're uninteresting). I wish Eddie was a little less musical theatre in that first scene, it just felt like he was in a totally different show than anyone else (possibly Rent, or Glee). The issues for Nancy & Jonathan feel very contrived and the show trying to throw Steve at Nancy is just annoying. There was no logical reason for her to date him twice, let again another time. Also could've done with less Hopper torture porn, like we get that it sucks. Similarly with the bullying, it's so over the top that it took me out of things rather than really hitting me. I think I've posted already about how the characterization of Robin changed so much and while she has great lines, it doesn't feel like her (and like is it because we know she's a lesbian now that she can't be snarky coolgirl anymore and has to be dorky mess?).

The positives! Love Argyle. The scenes with Will & Mike and Will & Jonathan are lovely heartstring pulls, so well done. (Will deserves better than Mike, but he's young and stupid so). I don't overall love how separate everyone is this season but for that setup, love the whole pizza freezer thing. I love Murray, I love Joyce&Hopper (even though irl I would 100% tell her not to touch a man with that much assault history with a 10-ft pole). Lucas finally gets material to work with and his acting has gotten so good! Running Up That Hill is obviously a great song. I am biased by fic but after that initial scene, I like Eddie and his face. I love the humor.

I'm probably forgetting a lot! I'm sure I'll be bummed about how only Dustin and Wayne seem to care about Eddie's death, and how much of the season was about protecting him just to have him die anyway. I'm sure I'll be annoyed they don't kill vecna. I'm sure I'll be worried about Max.

[un-local]

On Rogier:

Rogier’s a hell of a character. I’m confused by his characterization in some places as like, a dorky scrawny little nerd who got his ass handed to him immediately, just a soft friend, uwu. (Most of this is for humor’s sake obviously. No hate—I just feel like trying to figure out what makes Rogier tick, so I’m using the notion as a convenient jumping off point. Frankly, I had no other idea how to begin this ordeal of a post.)

PREMISE:

I’d like to examine some aspects of his characterization, how a pro like him got afflicted with Death Blight, and what I see as part of the tragedy of his character. I’m using the in-game interactions we have with him and a few other characters as basis for this, as well as a few relevant item descriptions.

[Wordcount: ~3000]

========================

BACKGROUND: 

First we meet him, he can be summoned to help with Margit at the gates of Stormveil. Later, he can be found deep within Stormveil, in the chapel on the ramparts. Here, he talks about how he’s looking for something, when he’s “not hot-footing it from the troops, that is.”

For him to have made it this far, we can safely figure he’s a strong sorcerer, and his rapier implies that he’s skilled with the blade as well.

From Rogier’s Rapier: “...Signature weapon of the Sorcerer Rogier. High dexterity is required to wield the blade to its full potential, but mastery is a sight to behold…”

He’s said to be proficient in both, and he mixes the two rather gracefully, I’d imagine. 

========================

CONTRACTING DEATH BLIGHT:

Now, sometime after this, he gets injured and becomes afflicted with Death Blight. But rather than that being a byproduct of inexperience or weakness, it strikes me as recklessness.

The fact that he’s in Stormveil at all is evidence of his more cavalier attitude towards his own safety, at least when it comes to his research. (“This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know (...) Not exactly a place I’d stroll into without a purpose in mind.”)

Rogier’s going through great lengths to seek answers. And given that this is his field of study, he’s got to be familiar with the signs of overexposure to Death Blight. And yet, he pushes past the signs of buildup, to such an extreme that it “suffuses” half of him with death. [1]

How did he, of all people, manage such an oversight?

========================

ROGIER’S FIXATION:

Rogier is a man possessed with a need to know more: just a little closer, just a little longer, just a little more. What he says in the Roundtable Hold (post-injury) shows more-or-less where his priorities lie:

“Mm, looks like we both got what we wanted out of Stormveil, didn’t we.”

That’s not to say he’s fine with the injury he sustained, tersely calling it “far from ideal,” in a different line—but whatever Rogier found, it was deemed worth the substantial price he paid to find it. He is consumed with a need to know more, and is therefore reckless with himself in his pursuit of understanding.

This isn’t the only time we see mention of this fierce dedication to learning more:

“... I’ve spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot.”

Truth be told, this fixation on the nature of death and undeath is just about all we see of Rogier’s character. We know nothing substantial of his history, his hobbies, his past travels…[2]  The most he tells us is that used to be friends with D, but no more, “though that’s hardly an uncommon fate between two friends.” [3]

But when he gets the Black Knifeprint, his entire demeanor changes. He no longer sounds as aloof as he had when discussing D. He literally begs us to borrow it. And when he returns it and shares his findings, you can practically hear the intensity of his focus in his voice:

“... And then, all will be laid bare. I will have the answers I have sought for so long.”

He asks the player to get the cursemark from Ranni’s original body. (And he’s seemingly done some research on where she might be, even if the specifics evade him. He fires off a bit of Carian intel when asked of her whereabouts.) 

When asked why he wants this cursemark, he says:

“...The very notion of life in death defies the Golden Order. By D’s account, these defiled fiends must be expunged. But truth be told, I seek the cursemark to save them. (…) I discovered something in my examination of the Night of the Black Knives. These souls have committed no offense. They have every right to life, only, they happened to touch a flaw in the Order.”

So now, we have something of a motivation for him, though what specifically made “saving those who live in death” his purpose is—as far as I know—never mentioned. [4]

He asks the player pledge their service to Ranni so they can “take a poke around on the sly,” which he knows could be dangerous. But how he words his request sticks out to me:

“Ah, only in order to get what we want, of course.”

========================

“WE,” AND WHAT IT MEANS FROM ROGIER:

The use of “we” is new. Before this, despite his reliance on the player, it’s always been about Rogier, and Rogier alone:

“I seek the cursemark…”

“I’d like you to procure it for me…” 

“I will have the answers I’ve sought…” 

The sudden use of “we” isn’t necessarily unfounded—the player has been doing Rogier’s bidding for this long—but the thing about Rogier is that he’s rather distant. His friendly and easy-going demeanor seems to be to some degree a facade, and D says as much. (“Don't let his easy air deceive you…”) 

So the use of “we,” after all this, and referring to it as “our agenda…”

It sticks out to me because (since it’s a new development) it seems to imply a stronger trust, one I think is much rarer for Rogier. I think to understand this, we must first understand a major circumstance of Rogier’s life: his detachment and isolation from others.

========================

UTTER DETACHMENT:

From his Spellblade Set: “Rogier spent his entire life behaving with utter detachment. No one noticed the anger, grief, regret, or fear that existed along with it.”

About D’s thoughts on his true goal: “If D knew what drives me now, he would surely boil over with rage. Or perhaps, he would even feel some pity. But no need to fret, none of that will come to pass. I can tell a good lie when I need to.”

Rogier omits truths and tempers his own emotions on matters, seemingly doing the former to a major degree. 

But then, he suddenly goes and lets the Tarnished a bit further into the fold. No longer are they just a passing accomplice to his studies, but something (a little) more involved: a teammate, an ally, a partner in his aims. So what’s going on, and what exactly have we, the player, done to earn this?

…Well, we cleared out a crypt and asked some questions about what Rogier’s found in his studies. And let him borrow an artifact for a bit.

Now, to us, this might not seem like much. But to Rogier, this seems to have meant much more. 

Fia, after lending the Black Knifeprint to Rogier: “I heard that you lent a hand to dear Rogier. He seemed positively elated.”

Let’s try to see this from Rogier’s perspective, then.

========================

DETACHMENT BEGETS LONELINESS:

Rogier is deeply lonely. And I think he has been, for a very long time. 

Meeting him for the first time in the Roundtable Hold: “Time can move rather slowly, stuck here, you know. A little conversation goes a long way.”

This loneliness is a natural byproduct of his refusal to let anyone get too close. I think emotional isolation cultivates a fierce need for someone to listen to you—for someone to behold you, the full you. To see you for what you are, rather than whatever veneer you adopt when you face the world. 

This seems to be something Rogier has been denying himself for a long time. Based on his Spellblade set and D’s dialogue, Rogier’s been presenting only the facade of the laid-back scholar, the inquisitive sorcerer, the friendly wanderer for some time. 

I don’t think many people have bothered to look further. And when they have, I wonder if they liked what they found. (Consider D’s present revulsion, for example.) 

To carry the burden of the self for so long, all alone, is both a herculean effort and an exercise in misery. To be stuck tending to your own “anger, grief, regret, and fear” in solitude for too long…it can seem to exacerbate those emotions. It can even begin to feel as though one is losing touch with what is true and what is felt. I think many people’s time in social isolation these last few years can attest to that. 

The kicker is, the longer it goes on, the harder it can be to let those true feelings show. (Edit: as in to allow or forgive oneself for opening up, I should say.)

The fact that Rogier disclosed as much as he did to the player in his time knowing them was (perhaps in some ways) a sign of his trust. [5]

========================

HOW THE TARNISHED BECAME PART OF “WE”

With that as background, enter the player. 

The player has listened to Rogier. First, to his comments and warnings about the castle, but now, to much more personal things—his convictions, his discoveries, his intentions. 

The player listens to Rogier as he rambles on about the fate of Godwyn. They lend him the knifeprint and listen as he recounts the Night of the Black Knives. Later, they listen again as he details Ranni’s involvement in it all. As important as these topics are to Rogier, they are also impersonal. Really, the worst that can happen is someone’s eyes glaze over.

But then, Rogier takes a bit of a risk: he talks of his more controversial philosophies, ones that may have gotten him scorn in the past. He says there’s a flaw in the Order, and that people are being unjustly punished. He says the Order is twisted, and maybe he could figure out how to fix it, if only he fully understood how it came to be.

The player seems to take it well enough.

The player’s continued aid has been a silent endorsement of all of these aspects of him: his philosophies, intentions, and so on. The Tarnished—the one that can still see grace when he can’t—has seen fit to help him, even after he began to share his true nature.

The player’s support of Rogier’s studies has been a (perhaps unwitting) support of Rogier himself. To him, it’s been proof of sorts—that he’s not a madman, or a “piteous fellow” who was once wise and clear of mind, but is no longer. That he hasn’t fallen quite so far. It’s a kind of relief you can’t really generate for yourself, rather, it comes solely from the support of others. And it probably meant a lot more to Rogier than he ever let on. 

That support, and what it might have meant specifically to Rogier, can help clarify why he seems to hold us in the high esteem he does by the end of things. (“But I know you've got what it takes. Quite possibly the only one, in fact.”)

But Rogier is a man long incapable, or unwilling, to share the depth of his true thoughts and feelings. So whatever he thinks of us, he simply says:

“I know you've got what it takes. Not only are you a superb fighter, but people want to trust you. I've seen it.” 

Rogier keeps people at a distance. He makes a habit of not revealing too much of himself, if he can help it. And it’s a hard habit to break. But the player, after all they’ve done for him…

At the end of it all, he doesn’t keep them quite as far away as everyone else.

========================

CONCLUSION:

Rogier has spent so long in the periphery of others' lives in his pursuit of knowledge. So much so, that what the player does is possibly the most he’s gotten from anyone in a long time. And while I wouldn’t say the player is ever really able to get “close” to him in-game, I think by the end of it, Rogier has allowed them to see more of him than anyone else in quite some time.

I think that’s part of the tragedy of his character.

I think it’s a tragedy that he devoted so much of his life pursuing something, seemingly at the expense of everything else, only for it to kill him before he can see it all come to fruition. 

I wonder what made him care so much. I wonder what drove him from his life in (implied) aristocracy to this. I wonder how long he’s been wandering alone. 

I wonder what rage and grief and despair he’s running from, or that he’s trying to fix. Or perhaps, it’s what he’s using as fuel as he throws himself into his research with such abandon.

To me, Rogier’s a hell of a character, and quite an enigma.

========================

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

[1] 

This is assuming that overexposure to a “contaminant” is the cause of Death Blight—that the face under Stormveil is part of Godwyn’s passive “cancer-like” spread, and is a biohazard of sorts to be near. I personally have doubts that his injury was an intentional act of Godwyn. (But that’s as good as unfounded, so don’t let me kill your fun here.)

On a similar note: the “spike” implied by his bloodstain is part of the general deathblight/instant death animation. I’m conflicted if such a thing truly happened to him in the event of his injury, or if it was just a matter of in-game assets being used to get a point across. A question for another day. (Zullie The Witch’s video, linked in the sources below, is an interesting watch if you’re trying to figure out the exact nature of his condition for yourself.)

[2] 

Technically, this lack of non-plot relevant character traits is true for most all characters in the game, but my point still stands I think.

[3] 

I never saw anything in-game about what actually went down between these two. Whatever it was, it was enough to cause D’s opinion of Rogier to take a nosedive. (See D’s mention of Rogier in the Roundtable Hold)

If I had to hazard a guess, it was this “flaw” in the Golden Order that Rogier found that was the main catalyst for their diverging paths. Or possibly even just the flexible nature of it, I really don’t know. 

Rogier on Glintsone Sorcery: “...Fascinating, isn't it? That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past. With the Order broken, twisted, and in need of repair, such adaptability is more important now than ever.”

D’s faith is very strong, and Rogier digging around for the “cause” of this crooked world (and attributing it to the Order) seems like a recipe for philosophical/religious disagreements aplenty. Especially if Rogier is making good points. 

(To help illustrate this hypothetical: Have you ever tried to convince someone of progressive ideals? Bear with me here:

Sometimes, part of the reason they’re so vehemently opposed is that to accept them, they have to accept that they were the bad guy in the past, or have otherwise acted/were complacent in a way that’s harmful under this new framework. It can be a very tough pill for people to swallow, and a major barrier to changing minds. Strength to any in that boat currently.)

With that phenomenon in mind, if Rogier is right about the undead’s innocence, then what does that make D for eliminating them so mercilessly? It seems plausible that if D followed the logic that far, he would get defensive, and even become convinced that Rogier’s logic is faulty, and apparently, that he must have been “seduced by Those Who Live in Death.” 

For these two, the concept that the undead may be innocent seems like an argument waiting to happen.

Also: Though Rogier’s delivery of their current estrangement is relatively neutral and aloof, I doubt that’s how he really feels. I think he’s carried the pain and regret of the rift between them for a long time.

Also Also: Just because I didn’t see anything about Rogier and D in-game having a closer history doesn’t preclude that from being the case. This reading in no way debunks that one, and if anything, it can be used to better understand why they split ways in the past. Or even how they might reconcile, if that’s what you’re rooting for. Don’t let me kill your fun here.

[4] 

I’ve seen theories that it was Fia that set Rogier on this path, the evidence being that she mentions holding him/him being “abed,” that they have a shared goal of finding Ranni’s half of the cursemark, and that he’s one of her champions in the Deeproot Depths. However, personally, I’m not entirely convinced by this. (Mostly because it’s a real bummer to me, I admit.)

According to SmoughTown’s video on Godwyn: “Fia appears to take a portion of the vitality of champions she embraces, and summon them as champions to defend the prince of Death, akin to the practice of Carian Puppetry… To be clear, these are akin to puppets. These blue manifestations are the same color as the Carian Puppets. They are not the actual champion themselves being summoned… rather an imprint of them…” (1:20:38)

I figure Rogier was already well down the rabbit hole before meeting Fia. It’s definitely something Fia benefited from, and possibly even stoked the fire on, but I have reservations about her being the catalyst for his scholarly pursuits. But honestly, it’s anyone’s guess. Again, don’t let me kill your fun here.

[5] 

It is worth noting that Rogier likely had himself figured for a dead man in the Roundtable Hold. That probably helped facilitate his willingness to be a little more open, which greased the wheels on all the rest.

========================

SOURCES

Elden Ring - Rogier Dialogue Compilation (https://youtu.be/EbTt4y1bEVc)

Elden Ring Lore | Godwyn Prince of Death (https://youtu.be/07WqJrEY7zQ) 

Rogier's Wiki (https://eldenring.wiki.fextralife.com/Sorcerer+Rogier) 

D's Wiki (https://eldenring.wiki.fextralife.com/D,+Hunter+of+the+Dead) 

Fia's Wiki (https://eldenring.wiki.fextralife.com/Fia) 

Zullie’s video on Death Blight and her theories on it, where you can get a closer look at the animation for the effect, as well as Rogier’s condition in the Roundtable Hold: (https://youtu.be/7VwKLJvtOdg)

My rampant delusions, of course.

[argumate]

You're so generally sensible, moral, and above all realistic on most political issues that your weird dislike of nationalism boggles me. In most cases I find you substantially more adult than Tumblr (which is literally the case but it also holds true vs other Tumblr Olds), but nationalism is an even weirder outlier than religion in specifically a "how do you not get how this all works?" way, because it's neutral in a way that most religions aren't, in addition to being quite inevitable.

a lot of good stuff in life comes from regulated competitive markets, where entities compete with each other for resources and attention in a regulated context such that the competition ends up being positive sum for society as a whole.

for example whether you're choosing what to eat based on its taste and cost and your personal preferences, or choosing what to watch on Netflix or whether to do something else entirely, or applying for jobs or choosing a course of study or whatever -- ideally nobody is holding a gun to your head in these interactions and the end result is that things steadily improve.

[it is not difficult to suggest examples where regulated competition falls down, and maintaining positive sum outcomes is obviously a long-term work in progress]

however nation states undergo zero sum competition in a context of unregulated anarchy, and the result is shit like this:

would Disney bother shooting the Mandalorian if they could shoot cruise missiles instead? or more realistically, kidnap Reed Hastings and threaten to break his legs if he releases Stranger Things? perhaps not.

so there's competition between states and that competition is often negative on net:

but it's also a different kind of competition to that which takes place in a regulated market, where entities compete for resources and attention based on satisfying the preferences of the participants.

states do not need to do this! you belong to a state based on an accident of your birth, they have the power of life and death over you, changing states is very difficult, and not belonging to any state essentially condemns you to limbo prison, which is awful.

anyway you can say it's natural and inevitable but so is cholera and it would be equally annoying to see someone enthusiastic about that.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

How hands on a parent do you think Theoden was with the kids? I know Eomer and Eowyn talked of how he was a father to them, but how much "fathering" was a kingly father meant to do, especially for a girl? Probably he was more hands on with Theodred and Eomer, preparing them for their future roles, but was he closely involved in Eowyn's life, overseeing her education and care, or was he someone who came in and made a fuss of her now and then? How much did being King overrule being Dad?

I should probably take a beat and think on this one a bit more before I shoot my mouth off and say something that I will want to change later, but I’ve got a house full of chaotic houseguests and I’m hiding from them in my closet for a moment’s peace so let’s just throw caution to the wind and go for it!

My answer here depends strongly on whether we’re talking Movie Théoden or Book Théoden. I think Movie Théoden was an incredibly soft, squishy father who was active and involved in parenthood despite being king. He clearly realllly loved his kids, and they adored him back. That goes without saying for Théodred, as Movie Théoden’s heartbreaking depiction of a father’s grief (in firm contradiction to Book Théoden) says plenty about how close they were, but it’s true for Éomer and especially Éowyn as well. The movie made some very affecting choices in showing little interactions between Éowyn and Théoden that make it clear that there is a deep, substantial bond there. The whole “I know your face” recurring theme between them is so obviously weighted with adoration, affection, and loyalty (thank you, Bernard Hill and Miranda Otto!) that I can only see it as coming from years of intense emotional connection between them. 

Book Théoden, on the other hand, feels much less cut and dry to me. Setting aside my well documented beef with how Tolkien showed Théoden handling Théodred’s death, we don’t get a lot of information about what kind of parent he was. All three of his kids clearly loved him and had strong loyalty to him, but how much of that was from true emotional bonding and how much of that was because, for each of them, Théoden was both their only parental option (you love what you’re given, and all that) and a monarch to whom loyalty would be felt just by virtue of his position? Can I believe that Book Théoden was an active, involved parent to all his kids when he once needed Hama to remind him that Éowyn even existed (“I said not Éomer, and he is not the last [of the House of Eorl]”)? I struggle with that and think the answer is probably no.

Ultimately, in my own mind and for my own purposes, I like to think of him somewhere down the middle between those two extremes. He was king, and kings are both very busy and supposed to project an air of power and authority that doesn’t always mesh well with being a soft, squishy dad. I think he didn’t see a ton of any of the kids when they were small because he was so often dealing with his duties. He left decisions about their day-to-day care, upbringing, education, etc. to trusted staff/advisors or other family members (Théodwyn for Théodred before she married, or Théodred himself for Éomer and Éowyn once they came to Edoras). As Théodred and Éomer aged, he’d have spent more time with each of them because they’d have been stepping into their roles as important commanders and advisors, but that wouldn’t have necessarily been affectionate, bonding time. It was work. And Éowyn clearly didn’t get that time, since she didn’t have a similar role that would have her working alongside him (at least, not until she became his effective full-time nurse, but that wasn’t the REAL Théoden anyway). 

That being said, Théoden did like to spend his rare and limited downtime with his kids and didn’t favor the boys over Éowyn in his affection and interest even though he favored them in the bestowing of duties and titles. He was as supportive and loving to all of them as you’d expect for someone who engendered the deep devotion and respect that is evident in their feelings for him. He was as interested and engaged as he could be, given the demands on his time and the perhaps antiquated ideas he’d inherited from Thengel about how a father/king was supposed to act. (Thengel himself had a very shitty example of a father in Fengel, so it took a few generations for this family to get itself back on a more emotionally healthy track!) He was imperfect, but his kids adored him as though he was because they could see that he was trying and a kid wants to love their parent!

(Have I perhaps transferred some feelings about my own dad onto this situation? Maybe! He worked a LOT, so I can’t truthfully say that he was always deeply engaged in my daily upbringing. And he’s very reserved, so he’s not inclined to speak directly about his feelings. But when he was home, he was very intentional about spending time with me, showing an interest in what I was doing and thinking about, and trying to let his actions communicate his feelings. I consider us to have a very good relationship, I love him to bits and I would fight the Witch King for him. And all of that works for my idea of Théoden!)

Very curious to hear your take as well! No one else I know has thought as deeply about Éowyn as you have, so I have to imagine you’ve got really interesting opinions here! ❤️

[fairfowl]

Lie There and Breathe

A Horde Clone OC story

(Tw: gore, injury) (part two here, part three here, part four here)

The Etherian relief workers found him lying prone on the hard ground beside the cliff where Horde Prime had made his last mad play. Jagged rocks lay all around the clone's body, his abdomen and shoulders riddled with long thorns that could only have come from Perfuma's vines.

His arms were pinned under his torso, the white of his tabard and tunic stained phosphorescent green. But what had truly frightened the workers was the state of the clone's face.

The clone lay with his head resting in a pool of neon blood, half his left ear was missing entirely as the flesh of his cheek and brow hung from the bone, separated across the socket of his eye by a gash that had gouged a trail into his very skull.

Ethera had abandoned the more violent practices of war nearly a century ago, and while there had been countless conflicts since then the average citizen was unused to the brutality that Prime had brought.

Through all the years of fighting between the rebellion and the Etherian Horde both sides had utilized non-lethal methods whenever possible as a matter of both basic morality and resource consumption. Anything less would have been viewed as a war crime.

But the Galactic Horde was held to no such standard. Their way was victory by any means necessary, and the streamlined process of creating clones meant that they never had to worry about running out of cannon fodder.

When Horde Prime arrived and Hordak disappeared, war on Etheria had changed drastically.

The princesses could not be blamed for fighting back.

But as relief workers picked their way across the battlefield, pulling living soldiers from both sides into the hastily constructed healers' tents there was an aura of revulsion and regret to them. The days of mindless bloodshed should have been over, but the newly verdant landscape was still soaked with red and green blood.

The workers wrapped the clone's face with a cloth, and dragged his unconscious form into the tent.

........

The clone awoke to searing pain and blindness.

Agony left him breathless, and he tried to curl into himself only to find that he lacked the strength to move his limbs. Although his head was thickly wrapped in bandages his senses were inundated by unfamiliar sounds and smells. Beside him someone breathed heavily, each intake rattling wetly.

Immediately he sought out the hivemind, disoriented and pained.

He found only empty silence.

Panicked the clone tried again, reaching out and physically grasping at the air with a trembling hand as he searched in vain for the warm minds of his Brothers, connected by the light of Horde Prime.

Horde Prime

Horde Prime was dead.

And so was the hivemind.

His breath sped up as the clone's lonely mind raced, reaching back to his last moment of consciousness.

He remembered his injury, and laying prone beneath the cliff as through the echoes of the hivemind he witnessed the end of Prime’s Glorious Vessel. Killed at the hands of the traitorous defect.

The clone remembered Horde Prime’s short glorious return in the body of the traitor, and he remembered the triumphant final speech in the voice that had seemed to echo from the top of the cliff and through the hivemind. He remembered letting his eyes slip shut as he prepared to die as Prime willed.

And he remembered how the voice had suddenly stopped.

The cold emptiness that had gripped him then came again as he lay blind and lost. He knew as surely as he knew anything that the hivemind had died along with Prime, and that he was alone. As if he were a cloud of space dust after a supernova, a corpse teeming with rot after death.

The clone shuddered, fighting the panic that threatened to engulf him. Through everything else that inundated his mind something new and profound shined from his core.

A desire to stay alive.

And the first thing that the clone knew about staying alive was that if he was to do so then he couldn't continue to panic.

Brothers who panicked on the field died, those who remained calm and kept their faith in Prime lived to fight another day.

Prime was dead, and so all he could do was try to remain calm.

Beyond the horror within his own head the clone found that he could not block out the pervasive sound of wheezing from beside him. From further away the noise was yet more chaotic. Bustling and clattering were overshadowed by moans and gasps of pain and the smells of blood and fear hung heavy in the air.

The clone turned his head slowly, listening for anything familiar, but heard no comforting mechanical beeps, or low reassuring prayers.

Indeed the only prayers that he heard were being gasped desperately from some distance.

He focused of the wheezing beside him.

The sound was steady even as each breath seemed to rattle wetly. The clone matched each wheeze to his own breaths and focused his entire self on it, blocking out the chaos of the unknown location where he and the breather lay.

........

The clone did not know how much time had passed.

He had eventually lost consciousness, and when he awoke he spent a moment seeking out the rasping breathing of one who lay beside him. He had been relieved to hear the breather immediately, the rest of the surrounding area had quieted substantially while he slept, but the steady rattling continued on as though nothing had changed.

The clone clung to it.

He was still heavily bandaged, and agony throbbed through his very being. The clone now knew that his pain was centralized to one side of his head. His left eye socket felt like a black hole, hungrily sucking every joule of energy from his body.

He was too exhausted to even seek out comfort, and the all encompassing agony made it impossible to concentrate on anything but The Breather beside him.

He lay there, helpless and exhausted and did the only thing that he could do.

He listened.

And he heard.

The clone counted the breaths of his companion constantly, eventually allowing surrounding noises to trickle in but never giving up his concentration on The Breather.

He deduced, as he lay there, that he was surrounded by the injured. Many of the cries, gasps, and prayers, were the voices of his brothers. Terror and pain gripped those voices, and he spared a moment of grief for those brothers. The panic that they were experiencing was dangerous, and the clone refused to let himself fall into it's trap.

He needed to remain calm because he wanted to survive.

He wanted to survive and hear the rattling breaths beside him.

The Breather slept on, constant and steady despite the wheezing.

There were likely Etherians surrounding him as well. Some of the pained voices were unfamiliar, and those who bustled around were certainly not members of The Horde. Their alien voices were filled with emotion, and their hurried steps too disorganized to be anything but alien.

It made sense. Prime was dead.

What didn't make sense was that these Etherians were keeping him and his brothers alive. Perhaps they planned to have the surviving clones serve them as the people of conquered planets had had the choice to peacefully serve Horde Prime.

But why not cull the damaged ones?

The clone knew, as surely as he knew that Prime was dead, that he was too damaged to avoid culling. The vine that had whipped across his face had obviously left a path of carnage in its wake. He did not know the state of his eyes, but the pain radiating from his left socket was telling, as was the uncomfortable wetness that soaked the bandages surrounding his head.

But he didn't want to die. The desire to live still burned strongly with him, new and profound. The clone tied his survival to remaining calm, which in turn had thus far turned him to rely upon The Breather beside him.

As long as he could hear his companion, then he could remain calm. As long as he remained calm then he had a chance of survival.

Beside him The Breather slept on, and the clone listened.

After some time of this the chaos of their surroundings picked back up, less frantic than it had been before but still busy. A host of voices and various organic smells rose to meet him; some were medicinal some were not. For his part the clone continued to take it all in from his stationary supine position. 

He deduced that he was laying on a sort of rough canvas cot some unknown distance from the ground. Unfamiliar clothing and a thin sheet covered him. Around him there was little airflow, but there was also no echo that would have indicated that they were indoors. If anything he heard wind, and the sound of cloth flapping but did not feel a breeze, perhaps they were in a tent.  

On his aching left side The Breather slept on but to his right he heard only wind and cloth, curiously he reached out a hand and met more sturdy cloth. He must have been lying along the wall of some kind of hospital tent.

Cautiously he continued to explore his surroundings with his fingers, reaching out blindly for anything within his reach. The wall, the cot, the strange loose clothes that covered him.

After a moment's hesitation the clone reached out into open air, searching for The Breather. The rasping continued on as it had since he’d first regained consciousness.

The clone felt his arm shake as he reached towards the lifeline that he'd been clinging too since he’d first regained consciousness.

And he found them.

A long arm, a muscular shoulder, the familiar texture and musculature. A fellow clone. A Brother.

Something that had been wrapped up tight in the clone's chest slowly unfurled, and tears welled up in his covered eyes as he traced his companion's arm downward to grasp his hand.

Relief and fear bloomed within him as he cried. Beside him his brother breathed on.

..................................................................................

Congratulations on finishing this somewhat maudlin little fic, I've wanted to write it for a while.

Since the two characters currently known as The Clone (our protagonist) and The Breather (the unconscious one) aren't very developed in this first part I thought I'd tell you a little about them

The Clone (pictured on top (someday I may draw his scars more closely to how I imagine them)) will eventually go on to be known as Chamomile. After spending some time in the healing tent he will learn that he still has perfect sight in the right eye, and partial sight in his left. Observing the Etherian healers as they work will inspire him to study healing under their tutelage specializing in wound care.

This will be a fairly new concept to the Horde Clones as under Prime most clones who had received a major wound that needed extensive care or caused major scarring would likely have been culled or sent to the front lines.

His companion The Breather (pictured below) will later be called Calamine. He is currently suffering from pneumonia due to a chest injury that resulted in a collapsed lung as well as substantial internal bleeding, he'll wake up eventually but for now the boy needs rest. He is a kindred spirit to Chamomile and the two cling to one another as they recover.

Calamine had previously worked within The Horde to create amniotic fluid, and will eventually become a cook.

The extremely awesome and very inspiring clone creator piccrew was made by @strawberryoverlordart

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [2/7] - Choice I

Choose your own adventure ~ “Die With Memories, not Dreams“

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza

Summary: You decide to let Techno sleep with you. He spoons you, keeping you warm, and you dream about him… You wake up in the morning to him preparing your room. When you get downstairs, you notice him hiding a hard-on, and you both decide to deal with it the rough way.

Warnings: Cussing, praise kink, rough sex NSFW!! MINORS DNI

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE INTRO AND CHOSEN YOUR ROUTE, DO SO HERE: INTRO

~Recap~

I could feel my blood rush to my face as they asked if I’d sleep with them. I turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” I said.

They paused and my heartbeat harder, unsure what they were going to say. I started preparing the fire, putting the hesitation out of my mind.

~Recap Complete~

— The Bird —

Techno is so cute when he’s trying to hide his shame. As if he should be ashamed of offering to sleep with me. It didn’t need to mean anything, but it obviously did to him. Never one to pass up and opportunity to make fun of him, I took the bait.

“Please, that fire is not going to be enough,” I cuddled up into the cloak, looking bashfully at him, “I need some body heat, pig boy.”

“Is it really that cold in here?” His voice was slightly shaky.

“Yeah, and I promise I won’t try to fuck you,” I said, “Unless you want to, of course,”

He stopped, not looking up. I could tell his face was burning because his ears were bright red, a sure sign of embarrassment. I hit the right nerve, and I watched eagerly to see what he did next.

“Let’s take a raincheck,” he said, “but if that’s what dates do then I’m down.”

I turned his words over in your head, half dumb-struck, half… well…

“I’m joking, Bird,” He says, his blush is gone, replaced by a victorious smile, “And I think you were, too,”

“What makes you think that?” I said innocently.

“Shut up and get dressed,” He squinted at me and shook his head, “I’ll be back up in a few.”

With that, he left. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand, my hands getting clammy. His cape around me felt heavy as if he were there holding me. I shook the thought out of my head, ignoring the sudden arousal stirring inside of me.

Bracing for the cold, I shucked his cape off and then the rest of my clothes. Part of me silently hoped he’d walk in on me undressing, see me there and… no. I slipped on a pair of comfy pants and a soft shirt. Even if Techno wanted to, he would never say it, and it’s too hard to read him to risk bringing it up.

I draped his cape across the back of a chair and scurried under a pile of woven blankets and furs on the bed. It was still cold, but I ignored my goosebumps and shut my eyes.

— Techno —

By the time I had gotten upstairs, it looked like they were already asleep. I thought about leaving them there, deep in slumber, and going downstairs to sleep on the couch, but when I touched their neck, my hand froze. They were incredibly cold and still shivering. Thank god the banquet isn’t supposed to take place here, I think they’d freeze to death.

I wriggled under the blanket, heart pounding. They were cold to the touch all over, but I held them close to me anyway. Slowly, I tucked my leg in between theirs to warm their legs. I wrapped my arms around them and held them close to my chest, quickly realizing they were still awake.

“Mmm, Techno,” They mumbled.

“What?”

“You’re so warm,” they quietly laughed, “like a radiator.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“So you’re cute and hot, huh?” They teased. I blushed again, this time not hiding it. There was no chance I’d be able to hide that and my arousal at the same time, and one was obviously more important.

I did not want them freaking out if they realized I was hard, so I shoved those feelings deep down somewhere in an attempt to forget about it.

Soon, my eyelids grew heavy, and Bird was asleep in my arms.

— The Bird’s dream —

He’s there, he’s right there. I need to go see him, I need to get there before it’s too late. There are so many people in the way that I’m not going to be there in time to dance. Who are all these people? They whisper about him as if they know him as if they watch his every step and live in his mind. Left and right, they whisper things about me, about him.

“Did you hear, he’s going to the ball!”

“Oh and with that beautiful bird,”

“If only they knew. Tsk.”

Their eyes were unmoving, fixated on me. I shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly falling into the void.

“Did you really think it was going to be that simple? That you’d just seduce him with the snap of your fingers? He’s not a dog, he can’t be trained. He’s a wild animal. He’s unstable, He’ll break your heart, little bird.” A voice boomed, echoing in my mind.

I’m below him, he’s thrusting into me in a white space, the voice was gone and there was no sound except for the quiet moans escaping his lips.

— The Bird —

I gasped, suddenly wide awake. Techno wakes, breathing into me. I’m back in his bed, the man behind me was stirring, opening his eyes. His arms were wrapped around me, pressing my back against his chest, his leg was between mine.

“Bird,” He whispers.

I shifted so I faced him, burying my face into his chest, which I realized was bare. He pulled me closer, softly squeezing me.

“Sorry, go back to sleep,” I said. He was already sleeping

— Techno —

The sun was in my eyes, making my vision red before I even opened my eyes. I was holding them in my arms, they silently snored, unaware I was awake. The curtains had been left open and sunlight spilt into the room in an orange glow. The fire had gone out sometime last night and the stale air was cold in my nose.

I kissed them on the forehead, reluctantly letting them go and standing up. I carefully shut the curtains and lit the fire. When I looked back at the bed, they were watching me, smiling.

“Good morning,” I said.

“G’morn’n” they muttered, still half asleep.

This was a strange feeling. Everything was right in the world, the gods were finally smiling down at me. Fuck, they’re so cute.

I picked myself up, moving to open the furthest curtains slightly to allow them to get up if they wanted. In what would be a small gesture for most people, I put their clothes for today out on the chair, where they’d left my cape.

I lifted it up, pulling it close to my face to free the end from the top of the chair. It smelled like them, even though they’d only been wearing it for a few minutes.

I trot down the stairs, leaving them to awaken alone. I hung my cape on its stand and went to the kitchen. I grabbed some bread and tore a chunk out of it, absentmindedly chewing.

We know what you want, Techno. They know, too. They want it, you want it, so what’s stopping you? Huh? Oh, and you can feel that?! It’s lust, Techno. I know you know who it’s for. I cursed at the voices to shut it, I’d had enough teasing for today. I didn’t need to be enticed further, just being around them was enough.

The floor creaked above me, meaning they’d gotten up for the day. I tried to take deep breaths to slow my heartbeat, but I couldn’t stop the hard-on I was getting. What are you gonna do now, big boy? They’re gonna see you biting back an erection in the kitchen. You’re going to scare them away. You’re going to put them on their knees-

Their face peeked around the stair entrance, searching for me. I composed myself as best I could. They nodded at me and rushed down the stairs, still dressed in the clothes from last night.

Their hair was a bird’s nest, fitting. Their shirt was half-tucked into their pants, which hugged their form and cut just before the ankles. Their bare feet were playfully pattering towards me.

“Like what you see?” They asked.

I cleared my throat and swallowed the bread, “I left clothes for you on the chair if you want to change.”

“You’re not changed,” they poked my chest, eying my abs, “You’re being a hypocrite.”

“Am not,” I was. “You’re going to freeze in that, I’m fine as I am.”

“That’s why you’re here, remember?”

The blush was too fast to hide. Thankfully, they’d already looked away and at the bread in my hand.

“Can I have it?” They asked as they plucked it from my hands, not waiting for a response.

“Um, you already do…” The voices were picking up again, shoving themselves into the front of my mind. You want them to devour you like that, don’t you? You want to feed them something more… substantial.

“Shut-“ I said.

They paused, “What?” Their mouth was stuffed with bread and my mind raced. I could fit in there, and it would be so nice, tight, wet…

“It’s nothing. I need to get dressed if you’re not going to,” My dick pulsed, begging for release. I knew I liked them, but this was new. Last night, I couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to fuck them. They’re so small compared to me. I’d fit in so nicely.

“No, stay.” They demanded.

I was already heading for the stairs, and I didn’t face them, knowing the tent in my pants was a dead giveaway. “Why? What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll suck your dick.” They said. It was a bit too honest and my face burned, my mind pleading for me to flip them over and destroy their innocence.

“Bet,” I said, or rather, the voices said through me. Regret rushed through me as their footsteps approached.

“As if I didn’t notice, Technoblade,” They said, now in front of me. My shame was palpable. “I felt it last night, and I saw it this morning. You are so adorable.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at them blankly.

“I’m being serious,” They said, crossing their arms, “I need to destress and honestly, I haven’t been fucked in a long time, so just let me know. The offer’s open.”

They began to walk away, taking my blank stare as disinterest. I grabbed their arm, holding them in place. I looked them in the eye, glimmering in the morning light, the last bits of dusk were barely visible in their pupils. Their lips parted partially as their eyes met mine. Do it, I know you want to.

“I do,” I said, out loud. My thoughts were getting a little too audible.

“You do… what?”

I grabbed their face and kissed them harshly.

— The Bird —

When I first saw Techno cleaning upstairs, I was enthralled in his form. He looked lean with his shirts on, like an emaciated cow. With it off, I could see the curves of his muscles, how they flexed when he picked something up.

He was also covered in scars. They were lighter than his normal skin tone, and they were raised slightly. Some of them looked older than others, and I couldn’t help but imagine him telling the stories behind each and every one.

As I woke up more and my eyes adjusted to the light, I also noticed his bulge, which I was desperate to unsee. The dream from last night was fuzzy, but my pants were still damp from it. I remember him over me, letting me have it and-

“Good morning,” He said.

I barely mumbled a reply, silently running scenarios through my mind. He could slip back into bed and destroy me. I would be screaming his name in minutes. The tent in his pants was nothing less than an invitation.

-

“You do… what?”

He grabbed my face and pushed his lips onto mine. I moaned slightly into it, knowing it would put a sizable dent in the walls he’d put up around his heart.

He pulled back, “I can… can you?” He couldn’t even form full sentences. It’s almost like he was in heat.

I pushed him lightly against the wall and got on my knees. Fuck, am I really doing this? He’s my best friend, does he even care about me? Am I doing this just to have it ruin the banquet? Our relationship is going to go off the fucking rails if I do this.

I was already putting my hand on his dick. I could feel the precum soak through the fabric. I rubbed its head, putting my other hand in his pants to get a real grip on it.

“Is this ok?” I had to ask. There’s no dignity in assuming.

“Yes,” he growled, pushing my hand down into his pants, “Just… oh gods-“

I put my hand around his dick, my fingers couldn’t even touch, that’s how thick it was. It was not going to fit all the way in my mouth. It’d be like trying to eat a fence post, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.

I put my thumb on the tip, rubbing the precum on the head, then licking my fingers, tasting his lust for me. Sizing it up, I licked the tip, then kissed it, trying to test my limits. Each time I touched a new area, he would quiver slightly. Had he ever even fucked anyone before? That was a nice thought… I’d take his virginity.

I tucked my teeth behind my lips and took the head of his dick into my mouth. I sucked slightly, relishing at the moment.

“Please…” He begged for me to take it deeper. I obliged, pushing my mouth further down the shaft, feeling the veins and curves with my tongue, sending him spiralling. For a man who’s killed entire countries, he was incredibly sensitive.

I started to bob my head on his dick. His hand flew to my head, grabbing my hair by the roots. He followed my lead and stayed still, breathing heavily as I got further down the shaft, close to the base.

Instead of waiting, he took it upon himself to thrust into my mouth and down my throat. I gagged hard, my eyes tearing up from the pressure. He slowed but did not fail to push himself deep into my throat over and over again.

He pulled out, panting. “Techno…” I moaned. I was starting to sit in a pool of slick, my body preparing for his entrance. I could feel my insides tense up and release over and over, gripping around nothing, desperate for his dick.

“Fuck me, Techno…” I muttered.

He picked me up from the waist, his dick still hard and pulsing. He carried me to the couch and flipped me onto my stomach, facing away from him. My legs hung off the end of the couch, spread to allow for easy access. I could hear my own heartbeat. I’d never had anyone inside of me, and he was a scary first-time.

“Go easy, Tech,” I said.

“I can’t make any promises,” He said, adding, “But if it’s too much, tell me to stop.”

He grabbed me by the hips, positioning himself behind me. The head of his dick was pressed to my hole, his hands digging into my sides, preparing for penetration.

I was soaking wet by now, practically dripping onto the carpet. Thank gods I was because he pushed in without warning.

“F-FUCK,” I screamed, the moans no longer being held back.

“Shh, Phil will hear you,” He whispered in my ear.

He pulled out and thrust in again. This time pleasure outweighed the pain. My insides were making room for his enormous penis. My walls gripped around him, trying to milk the cum out of him.

Now he started a rhythm, the sounds of skin slapping against skin was loud enough that Phil could definitely hear it. Techno was not going easy on me.

He pounded into me, rearranging my insides. Every thrust was met with an accompanying moan escaping from my mouth, loud and unrelenting. I held onto the couch for dear life and prayed to the gods I’d make it out of this able to walk.

My core tightened, signalling what was to come. He leaned over, his chest on my back like we were in bed, and he whispered praise into my ear.

“You’re so tight, ugh”, “You’re doing so well,”, “I’m gonna cum into you”, “I’m gonna make you quiver and scream in ecstasy, baby”, “be a good bird and cum for me, huh?”

He was so close, and I was close behind. His thrusts lost rhythm as he lost his sense of words. They became spastic, spaced randomly, going down to the base every time. His moans and grunts were getting louder and my moans had turned into whines.

I felt my eyes water as the pressure in my gut built. He thrust in hard a few more times, sending me over the edge.

“Techno, ah, fuck… AAAAH!” I screamed. My legs shook as my body tensed up, squeezing his dick inside of me, he pulled out and pushed back in again as I shuttered under him.

“I’m - ‘m gonna,” he stuttered. He shoved himself all the way in, pushing everything inside of me out of the way. I felt the liquid fill me up, his cum hitting my walls and making me shake uncontrollably. He held my hand as I continued to moan and whine, overstimulated from his load.

“Holy… shit,” He huffed.

“T-Techno,” He was still inside of me, shooting another rope of cum into me.

“Fu-uck.”

My orgasm ended with a final squeeze, leaving me to quiver below him as he came. Eventually, he pulled out. I felt empty but more full than I was before he went in. His cum was still sloshing around inside of me. I rolled over to look at him, our cum dripping out of me. He looked at me, no, through me. It was the face he made when he was thinking about the future, when he was testing his possibilities.

“Techno, I-“ I whined, still sensitive.

“This stays between us alone, alright?” He breathed.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said.

He laughed, now finally looking at me properly. I smiled and laughed back, just basking in the ridiculousness of what just happened. Part of me wished he picked me up and put me back on him. Another part of me wished I’d somehow end up carrying his children. The rational part of me was worried he’d shove this memory so far down that he’d forget about it completely. I wouldn’t let that happen.

— Philza —

“Hey, you two…” I creaked open the front door to Techno’s cabin. The couch was a mess like someone had tipped it over and roughly put everything back in place. Oddly, nothing else was awry, and Techno was in the kitchen, making eggs like nothing ever happened.

The bird smiled at me, “Hey Phil, good morning!” They seemed very chipper for having just woken up. Both of them were already dressed in the day’s clothes, excluding overcoats that hung on the hooks by the door.

“Hello, Phil,” Techno nodded at me. His hair was dishevelled, to say the least.

“What was all that screaming about? Did a creeper almost explode in here or something?”

Techno’s ears pinked, the bird responded, “No, Techno just scared me. I woke up and I just saw this silhouette standing over the bed. Apparently, he was not a demon, and I startled him more than I think he did me.”

“Jesus, you have to stop standing creepily in people’s peripheral, Techno.” I laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they were awake. They were completely hidden under the pile of blankets.” Techno responded, not looking back at me. I detected a hint of deceit but brushed it off.

“It’s nice to see you, mate,” I said to the bird, wandering over to join them at the breakfast bar. I sat down on a stool next to them, putting the notebook on the counter in front of me. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” They said, sliding the notebook over to them. I reached over and opened it to the page I was referring to.

“The banquet has a dress code, and I’m assuming you don’t have anything that matches it,” Everything they wore was forest green or yellow, sometimes they had black or white clothes, but it was few and far between.

“What’s the dress code?”

“It’s blue, black, white, and gold,” I pointed to two drawings on the page, “I’m thinking either I make you a dress or a tuxedo, or I can mix the two. A tux top with a skirt. What do you think?”

They pressed their lips together, surveying their options. I tried my best to draw them, although they were rough sketches of a fancier design in my head. I could draw buildings and architecture for my blueprints, but flowy things were not as easy.

/// UNDER CONSTRUCTION BRRRRRRRRRR ///

Choose your garment! It only affects the story slightly, I promise! There is no gender attached to them, it just changes how you’ll interact with people :)

Dress

Tux-dress

Tuxedo

[maxwell-grant]

Cass wouldn’t even begrudingly tolerate [the Black Bat], because she’s even less lenient than Bruce on killing and far more willing to throw down.' - THANK YOU for remembering that.

Cass is my favorite Batfam member, the only one really that I have an active interest in reading about. I'd be incredibly ignorant to not bring bring up such a crucial aspect of her characterization. And even if I didn't personally care for her, well, last thing I'd want is to be another source of frustration for Cass fans. Lord knows there's enough of those to go around.

mousebrass also asked: On that note, how do you imagine a meeting between Cass and the Shadow going?

Fair warning: This one took me 6 hours to write, and it became a hell of a lot longer than I imagined. I liked Cass a lot, but I never quite realized I had this many feelings regarding her until I was tasked with writing this, and a lot of things clicked for me regarding my plans for The Shadow thanks to this ask. @mousebrass, thank you. I mean it. I think I may have found something here I've spent years looking for. Hope you enjoy the post.

I'm thankful that this scenario is only really taking place in a hypothetical fanon where both characters can get a fair shot, because I wouldn't trust DC with this premise. I don't trust DC with either of them as is.

There's a lot of ways that this crossover could go on about taking place naturally, initially because Cass is already connected to some of Batman's pulpier elements, due to her connections to Lady Shiva and the League of Assassins, and one could connect Cass to Myra Reldon (who really should just be race swapped if ever brought back so she can stand out as the cool character she is, without the yellowface gimmick holding her back). There's two things I think are crucial to making the most of this idea, and the first of which has to do with the subject of killing. I usually don't like to come up with hypothetical team-ups for The Shadow that focus too much on the fact that he kills, because it's far from the most significant aspect of his character to focus on, much of it is written from a wrong understanding of the character, and it never amounts to anything other than perfunctory. But here, not only is it completely unavoidable to discuss, here there is actually a very, very substantial grounding as to why this has to be such a big part of the story.

The first and foremost thing that's gotta be established to everyone reading that doesn't know already is this: Cassandra Cain, more so than Batman, more so than any other DCU hero, has a tolerance towards murder lower than zero, and this is completely non-negotiable. She will throw herself on the path of an assault rifle to stop men trying to kill her from accidentally killing each other. The defining moment of her incredibly grim backstory is that she was trained from birth to be the world's greatest murderer, and her first kill traumatized her so badly that she has pivoted as far away from that as possible. I stress a lot that the Shadow should not be written as the trigger-happy maniac comics made him into and that the pulp version killed mostly to defend himself and others, generally left criminals to the police if possible, offered plenty of second-chances, had stories dedicated to the rehabilitation of criminals and so on, but none of this would matter to Cass.

Cass has literally chosen suicide over the prospect of living with murder on her hands time and time again, and The Shadow kills. When he kills, he does so without remorse, with unshakeable certainty. He hates death, he doesn't want lives to be at risk in the first place. But people will die if he doesn't do anything, and what he can do, what he exists to do, is turn the tools of evil against evil, and murder is the oldest tool of evil there is. He doesn't kill because a war scarred him, he doesn't kill because he's got a demon in his soul, he doesn't kill because he's mentally off balance, he doesn't kill because he's evil or sadistic or arrogant or anything of the sort. He kills because the men he fights chose death when they sought to harm innocents and fire guns at him. He kills because he is Death itself.

Regardless of how compassionate he is or can be, regardless of the fact that he's motivated by a desire to protect people, regardless of how justified he is, he is still dropping corpses and laughing maniacally doing so. Cass's real arch-enemy isn't Shiva or David Cain, it's Death, it's the thing that she's fundamentally most opposed to. And guess what The Shadow gets compared to often enough? Literally the very first line of the very first book where we get to see him, this is how we are introduced to him:

So the premise here is that we are taking a character who is defined by her fundamental opposition to death with every fiber of her being, who understands death on a level no other human being does, who is traumatized and hard-wired to detest death at all costs and to choose suicide over it, and asking her to team up with The Grim Reaper.

Even if he received the most abject lesson conceivable on the sheer wrongness of murder, even if he does put down the guns around Cass out of respect for her, he cannot protect his agents and others if he cannot shoot or kill those who try to harm them, and the protection of the agents is absolutely non-negotiable and not at all something he's willing to fuck around with by trying out gadget kung fu superhero alternatives. The Shadow has chosen to throw his life away for their sake time and time again, and no matter how appaling or disgusting Cass finds his deeds, even if he concedes that she's right and should be right on all accounts and that he is fundamentally a monster who has no right to judge others, he would not concede on his mission and he would make it very clear she would have to put him down violently to stop him from protecting others this way, and death has not stopped him before.

And to be upfront in case there's anyone who doubts it, Cass would kick The Shadow's ass, if they had to fight. She is the strongest fighter in the DCU, she lives and breathes fighting and combat in a way no one else does. And The Shadow's not one of those characters who is supposed to be invincible and the best at everything all the time always, he can and does lose fights and scrapes to people far less adept at it than Cass. He's a great fighter, obviously, he hauls bigger men than him through doors and was disabling people with Vulcan neck pinches decades before Spock, and he would definitely have an edge in other areas, but he's out of his league here. Frankly, I don't see The Shadow raising a finger against Cass unless she's been brainwashed into killing people by bad writing. Not because she's a woman, that doesn't really stop him from dealing with evil. But because, for one, she's practically a child compared to him age-wise. Two, he'd obviously know beforehand of her capabilities and how futile it would be to fight or even provoke her. And three, the Shadow's whole thing is knowing. The Shadow Knows and all that. Knowing comes with understanding.

He'd understand very quickly that there is no way someone this young could grow so quickly into the world's greatest fighter without horrific treatment that no one should ever be subjected to. He'd see the movements too practiced and quick, the self-control, the strength and speed far beyond even the trained warriors he's seen, the places where she's been scarred and is good at covering it up. Assuming he doesn't already know about her life story, any meeting between the two would lead to him very quickly figuring out that there's something much deeper about her opposition to killing than just moral reservations, something deeper than Bruce's own gun trauma.

Denny O'Neil's 2nd Batman and Shadow story was about The Shadow secretly helping Bruce overcome gun trauma, and Bruce rejecting The Shadow's intentions to hand him a gun. And to make it clear, people tend to assume that The Shadow only helps people for utilitarian reasons, which is not true as I've tried to demonstrate many times now. I don't want to convey that he would want to help Cass overcome her trauma just so she could be more efficient or something, absolutely no, he'd help her because he helps people in any way he can. I think a story with The Shadow and Cass might involve a similar premise, The Shadow understanding that she has been traumatized very deeply by death and refuses to accept it on any terms, trying to help her overcome it, only to learn that she does not want to "learn" anything she doesn't already know, that she has weaponized her trauma into a source of strength, and wishes nothing more than to help others with it.

And here's where we get to the part that allows the two to be on less antagonistic terms, because one thing that also very strongly defines Cass, at least the Cass I like reading most, is her stubborn, almost desperate need to believe in the best of people, that people can and will change for the better. Like The Shadow, her strength too is knowing, it's perception, the things that she knows about people that words cannot convey. Just as there are many things The Shadow would grow to understand about her that others would not, there would be many things that The Shadow would not be able to conceal from her. Things that no one but her would figure out. Things that, despite her age and lack of experience compared to him, he would have to defer to her knowledge on, which reverses the usual dynamic The Shadow has with people. And perhaps one aspect of that reversal, it's that maybe it's she who winds up secretly manipulating The Shadow into overcoming a deeper issue.

Cass's perspective on killing is shaped not just through trauma, but from a painfully intimate understanding of not just what happens to someone at the time of death, but the cost of murder upon the human soul, the ways it warps people into things they never should have been. Killing is a deeply, deeply serious matter, much more so than fiction seems ever willing to go into. Of course we suspend disbelief for fiction, there's nothing wrong with that, but if a story starts asking questions, starts poking holes into fantasies, they should not be disregarded.

And so it begs a question: How has it affected The Shadow? Is he really as remorseless as he appears to be? Is the fact that he's only killing evil people really of that much use? What's the cost of living as someone who has to know so much about so much evil in so many hearts? Knowledge never comes without price, and knowing evil is his tagline. When he enlists Harry Vincent, he makes it very clear that he has lost lives as he has saved them. From when is that regret coming from? What lives did he lose then? Is he saving people by damning his soul or merely prolonging the inevitable by piling corpses on another end of the scale?

If there's a character that could meaningfully start bringing these questions forth, who could ever truly get The Shadow to stop and reveal things to the audience he never would otherwise, maybe Cass could be that character. A girl who was raised to be a monster, who is treated as a monster and an aberration in-universe (and even outside of it), and turned that into a strength she uses to help others, who cares about everyone and refuses to let others be dehumanized as she was. Who better to know what lurks in the Shadow's heart?

Sometimes when I get an ask, I bullshit my way through infodump walls of text until I can structure it into something vaguely resembling a point. And sometimes, and I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I get a very, very clear word on my mind related to it before I start writing, that almost seems to be a beacon pointing where I need to get to, and I work my way into getting there. Once you sent me an ask about crossing over The Shadow with Cassandra Cain, the word that came to mind the very second was Language.

It's an interesting relation the two have with language. Language is of course a very substantial part of Cass's character, who does not process language and linguistic development the way most people do, and instead reads body language to the point of superpower. Many stories revolve around Cass's relation to the concept of language, the help she may require from others in getting around things beyond her upbringing, and ways in which she has mastered beyond anyone's scope. Though she is mute, language is her power, what makes her what she is, and she is someone that Batman freely admits could kick his ass if she ever felt like it.

For The Shadow, language is also his power. He speaks all languages and connects allies all over the world, he is an expert ventriloquist, he is able to project his voice beyond what's physically possible, he can imitate voices perfectly to the point of being able to conduct group conversations single-handedly well enough to fool even the people whose voices he's imitating, much of his presence and terror and manipulation are done through his voice, arguably the very reason he exists in the first place is entirely because a radio actor's voice performance was so good and captivating that it tricked people into thinking the character was a real star and not just a glorified narrator. The man you cannot see, but only hear, the perfect hero for radio. And then of course the laugh, which I have a whole separate post on and which, in many ways, acts as a substitute for language in the novels. He uses the laugh so often as a substitute for statements or words, even to himself, that it's pretty much his own personal language. And language is at the core of how he deals with people, as he knows the right language to use to manipulate and move and help them. He knows what to promise, what to reveal, what to omit. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it. Language is the strings by which he puppeteers the world around him (and he can talk to animals, at least of one kind).

The Shadow and Cassandra Cain have mastered two different types of Language as throughly as anyone can possibly master them. The Shadow can talk a group of hardened criminals into killing themselves, Cassandra can punch a heart into stopping without killing it. The Shadow echoes his voice "through everywhere and nowhere at once" to whip crowds of thugs into frenzies, Cassandra outraces missiles and was tanking bullets as a child. The Shadow can lie and usurp lives so masterfully to fool even the families of those he's passing off as, Cassandra is a living lie detector who gleams inner conversations from miniscule reactions. The Shadow can speak every language known, Cassandra is the greatest master of the world's most universal language other than music. The two are supposedly human, but every now and then, something comes along to call that into question because of the things they can achieve. They cannot hide secrets from each other the way they do to everyone else. They are driven by a deep desire to help others, to make something out of the circumstances of their lives. To weaponize that which dictates they should be evil and monstrous into a relentless force of good.

Language is the root of understanding. And if nothing else, as impossible as a conciliation of their approaches to crimefighting may be, I think there could be an unique understanding between the two. Perhaps, and this is a bit crazier a concept but one that seems to be where I might have been heading towards all along, even Cassandra Cain finding a calling away from the frayed dynamics of the Batfamily, away from the Bat's looming presence, to become The Shadow's successor, swearing to uphold a mission of justice through non-lethal tactics while he stays on the backseat guiding her. If The Shadow could trust the safety of his agents and the protection of the innocent at the hands of someone as capable and selfless and good-natured as Cassandra, I think he'd be all too happy to be able to trust someone in such a manner, to no longer be the Master of Darkness, but instead to serve the next generation that's weaponized darkness without submerging in it. To achieve, and perhaps return, to his strongest, highest self: A disembodied voice heard, but not seen. Once again the narrator, not the star.

It's a concept I've thought about very extensively for the years I've been a Shadow fan, but now it occurs to me that, if I had to appoint a successor of The Shadow, someone who could take up the mission but shine on their own right, even improve it with the right guidance and circumstances, it would be Cassandra Cain. The Orphan, The Shadow of the Batgirl. Daughter of the greatest assassins, meant to be the world's most lethal murderer, instead pivoted to being one of it's greatest heroes, but never allowed to shine as she should. But in the darker, less restrictive and wilder world of pulp heroes, in The Shadow's world, a beacon would shine all the harder. Perfect strengths attached to perfect opposites, joined together for a greater good, unstoppable after together having weaponized that which most take for granted: the power of language to move worlds.