#perpetual mourning posting

[martyrbat]

is this anything

[meyhew]

“WHAT WE MOURN FOR THE DEAD IS THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPES.”

I never thought I’d make this post. Any time I imagined a One Direction member dying, I pictured myself weathered and grey. This was an eventuality that wasn’t supposed to be actualized until the boys and I had lived full lives. To have to come to terms with Liam’s death—his perpetual absence moving forward—in my mid twenties feels absurd. I wrote a long thing the day after I found out, so I’ve already gotten some thoughts out. I’m going to try and keep this short. I likely won’t succeed.

Liam was kind. If he’s remembered for anything, I hope it’s that. I know he helped out with food banks in London during lockdown because there were photos of him packing boxes, but I didn’t know until now how much money he gave them. £80,000 without any publicity. And it wasn’t a one-time donation. He kept working with various orgs to help food insecure people. In the week leading up to that unfortunate Wednesday, he gave away thousands to fundraisers—primarily set up to help people with severe illnesses. He’d been part of Soccer Aid for years. He was involved with anti-bullying campaigns. He worked with Rays of Sunshine to make hundreds of sick children happy. Over the years, he also donated to nonprofits that help children in Gaza and other places. The T-shirt he designed for Choose Love has garnered nearly £200,000; Choose Love has been working with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians to provide desperately needed aid in Gaza. Liam understood the value of his wealth, and what his social responsibility was. He did his part to make this world better.

All that without taking into account everything Liam did for us. The youtube videos he started during quarantine because it was a way to distract people, give them something to look forward to. His comedic timing was something special. The discord server where he talked to fans and highlighted their creative endeavors. His livestreams, the endless culture-defining tweets he made. I still see people laughing about his tweets. We all remember Mrs. Horan, yes? I mean, go all the way back to TwitCams. Just google the phrase and one of the first videos you get will be Liam’s. From day one, he took it upon himself to make sure the fans were happy. That we felt seen, heard. And he kept One Direction alive for us, on occasion at a great personal cost. He performed deep cuts we’d never seen sung live, he was always so enthusiastic about everyone else’s projects, he never shied away from talking about the band—because it made us happy. He knew what the band meant to us, the blend of hope and nostalgia many of us clung to, and he held on with us. For us. The masses ridiculed him for his clinginess, and he didn’t let go—for us. I’m sure he knew there are those of us for whom the name One Direction still means everything. And how right he was. Look at the global charts for the past two weeks. We’ve made history again. Because of Liam. He had been the glue holding a lot of the fandom together, whether people realized it or not. He brought us all together again in the most heartbreaking of ways.

One Direction came into my life at a time when I was becoming lonelier by the day. I had moved to a new country two years prior, and I didn’t yet have many friends because I knew only enough English to get by at school. Outside of school, I had no friends. They were all back home in the place I’d left. All I had was my two siblings—and when you’re 13 years old, your 14 yr old sister is hardly the person you want to spend all your time with. I didn’t have space for me, to do and to be something that was just mine.

Then I found 1d through a girl at school and they became that something for me. I bettered my English by watching them talk. I found this community because of them, and I have learned so much from being a part of it. So many wonderful people have touched my life because of them over the years, some I’ve fallen out of touch with and some I hung out with just this month. They—and, by extension, Liam—have made me wealthy in friendship.

Claudia, Ingrid, Mery; Thank you for putting up with my insanely specific demands and making headers for me. Ingrid, you’ve been so patient about teaching me how to gif. Mery, I still have your rec list for learning Spanish saved in my notes app. The TPWK print you gifted me hangs on my wall. Cloudy, do you remember that lineart you made of me? I still have it. You’ve all been so kind to me.

Rafa; You have no idea how much you’ve helped build my confidence as a writer. Lyab is a thing of the past now, but those hours you spent fleshing out the details of that fic are priceless to me. I’d never written anything so ambitious before. And, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve attempted a novel if I hadn’t written a 100k fic—which I couldn’t have done without your encouragement. I think this is my first time telling you I finished the first draft of my novel in September. Thank you <3

Yas; Beloved you are so dear to me. You have shown me such kindness over the years, at times I wondered what I had done to deserve it. Not many people check in with me the way you do. I value your presence in my life beyond words. You have so much love and affection to give, and I’m glad I get to receive so much of it.

If I wrote a personal note to everyone who’s in my life because of Liam we’d be here for hours and hours. Jess, Bella, Alex, Jack, Hayley, Hope, Soni, Kayla, Sara, Arsh, Tina, Ola, Cristal, Kylee, Hana, Ali, Antonise, Clare, Abby, Nina, fnh, mert, people I don’t follow anymore, everyone who’s come into my life because of liam—I love you. Literally every single person I follow should be named here because I wouldn’t even be on this website if it weren’t for 1d. You’re all so special to me.

I still can’t believe Liam is gone. I was at the grocery store and it hit me that it’s real, and I thought, no, there’s no way. It feels so fucking weird having this invisible hole in my life that’s never going to go away. But I’ll always be grateful for everything Liam brought into my life. I know I’ll grow old with a whole bunch of you in my life—I’ve already spent a decade with some of you in my life—and I wish Liam got to grow old and weathered with us all.

This is such an inadequate goodbye. I think I’ll keep coming up with things I wish I could tell Liam, or things I want to say to you all. There’s so much history here, so much to reminisce about. He took a piece of my adolescence with him. I’ll miss him forever. Too many of my memories are intertwined with him and I’ll miss him forever.

Sleep easy, Liam. I hope, in time, you’re remembered for your limitless capacity for love and your desire to do better, be better. You deserved more. 🤍

—————

tagging 1d people here because i know many blogs aren’t active on a regular basis. apologies if i missed someone (i’m sure i did). hugs for everyone

@1dclowns @hrrytomlinson @sandiazucar @fookinfreezin @hoeranghae @wlwmermald @tomlinsun @epubgf @heyangel @fireproofs @90sgrungelouis @lirry @iconichalo @itsnotreal @aquickstart @roguecurls @harryscuddles @hoteyelinerguy @babyy-honey @goldencereza @kindathoughtprovoking @kindofsharethat @fuchsiasea @queerbloodyangel @tofiveohfive @aboutmetamorphosis @wastelandbabyblue @delicatepointofview @twentybiqueen @girlcrushau @chaoticsue @chimnation @akasakasads @icouldbeluckyagain @alloutshirt @half-lightl @halohamilton @willowfey @meltedwings @softandslow @loustyles @onedirectiom @pop-punklouis @pridesobright @finexbright @femstyles @baawree @iamnathanscott @avocadolouie @userautumn @niallerer @itsnothesameasitwas @usignedupforthis @svpportive @svncourt

[astrophileous]

Derek getting jealous over Bug’s pregnancy pillow 🤭🤭🤭 he just doesn’t understand how it can be that much more comfortable than he would be. If Bug makes him snuggle with it post-pregnancy when she needs to sneak out from his arms during the night to check on the baby too? He wakes up like “????”

Nooo but can you imagine how EXASPERATED he is when Bug pulls out the pillow again when she's pregnant with their daughter/Baby Bug???? 😭😭😭

Btw so sorry for the delay, I was stressing FOR DAYS bcs my brain refused to cooperate and write (I think it's back to normal now so YAY)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"Not this montrosity again."

Derek nearly whined at the sight of your pregnancy pillow; the one you had stored safely after the birth of your son, and the same one you had pulled out of its resting place now that you were in your second trimester with your daughter. It was a gift from a friend, and Derek was never a fan of it since the first time the pillow found its way into your shared bed.

"Don't say that." You put your palms on either side of the pillow, acting as if you were cupping its ears. "He might hear you."

"Great. So it's a he?!"

"Derek Morgan, you're not seriously jealous over a freaking pillow?"

"I have the right to be when you constantly choose to cuddle with it." You suppressed a giggle when you saw the daggers Derek was shooting its way. "I don't understand why you need the pillow when you have me."

"Because, as much as I love and adore your hard panes and muscles, I need something fluffy to get me sleeping comfortably through the night."

Derek scoffed loudly.

Who would've thought Derek would ever live to see the day he found himself mourning over the fact that he was fucking ripped?

Every night before the two of you went to bed, Derek never failed in throwing the dirtiest, nastiest look in the direction of said pregnancy pillow as if the inanimate object was singlehandedly responsible for ruining his entire life. Derek couldn't be more happy to get rid of it the moment you came home from the hospital with your daughter in your arms. Unfortunately, the man soon realized that getting rid of the offensive item might be a more challenging task than he had ever anticipated in the first place.

"Bug?" Derek mumbled blearily one night as he rose from the light sleep he had accidentally fallen under.

The last thing he remembered was lying in bed with you in his arms. Something about the lull of your voice and the familiar scent of your body wash had managed to make him drift into an unexpected slumber. Derek was putty whenever you were next to him, and he was perpetually alright with that knowledge if it meant he got to keep you constantly by his side.

The bedroom was enveloped in darkness as he stirred, squeezing your flesh wherever his arm could reach. But Derek realized a little too late in his half-awake state that the softness in his hand was, in fact, not you. And it took a few more seconds for him to turn on the bedside lamp to confirm that it wasn't you who was lying in his arms.

It was the fucking pillow.

Derek grabbed the object with utter disgust, stomping through the house until he found you in the nursery. You were sitting in the rocking chair, nursing your infant daughter in your arms, when you looked up at the sound of the door opening. Your head immediately threw back in laughter once you saw the look of contempt that Derek was aiming towards the pillow in his hand.

"What's wrong, Derek?"

"I woke up to this in my arms."

"Did you have a good sleep cuddling with the pillow?" You snickered, enjoying the way Derek's frown deepened with frustration. "I told you it's comfy."

Derek scowled at your cheeky wink, refusing to relent even if deep down he had also begrudgingly started to agree with that sentiment.

After that night, you never heard him threaten to throw out the pregnancy pillow, ever again.

[wandawxdow]

Masters of the Air fic recs

(*) = includes smut

gale ‘buck’ clevens x john ‘bucky’ egan

in london / on leave

bomber’s moon by moonrocks

in london, secret & established relationship, (*)

level-off manoeuvres by wormringers

together in london, (*)

dallas girls by hcneymooners

london, fluff and dash of angst

hurt/comfort & angst

good men die too / oh i’d rather be with you by moonrocks

grief/mourning, first kiss, injured!bucky

falling apart by cloudystars

post-mission hurt/comfort

Whatever Happens Tomorrow, We Had Today by MaShEd_Potat_os

angst, love confessions

a good dream by lilium

hurt/comfort, protective bf, 1x04 au

dear john by ForASecondThereWedWon

angst, love letters, 1x04, (*)

you’ll never be alone (i’ll be there for you) by tearsricochets

first kiss, pining, emotional hurt/comfort, 1x01-1x02

make you feel alive by signifier

emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending, presumed dead

it had to be you by MaShEd_Potat_os

post-war, angst with a happy ending, insecure!bucky

Another First by JoeyAlohaDream

(mild * mention), hurt!buck

stalag / imprisoned

greyspace by cloudystars

sick!bucky, protective!buck, hurt/comfort

night terrors by cloudystars

trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort

I’ll Get By (As Long As I Have You) by JediRobertHogan

hurt/comfort, reunited

whatever you want me to do (i will do) by tkachukypls

angst, unrequited love, 1x07

scars by cloudystars

protective!bucky, fights, 1x07

You Put Your Arms Around Me (And I’m Home) by johnslittlespoon

fluff, sharing a bed, 1x07

Full Count by madeitsimple

angst and (*), 1x07-1x08, fights

judgement by the hounds by anonymous

1x08, hurt/comfort, fights, sharing a bed

Whatever you want me to do, I will do by Anonymous

john brady!centric, protective!buck & bucky

rainfall by switchgrassdevil

sick!buck, hurt/comfort, sharing a bed

I Won’t Rot by GrayFingers

hurt!bucky, protective!buck, injuries

Fluff + AUs

back home where you’re safe from, that’s the measure of a man by wolfhalls

established relationship, learning to dance, (*)

Reverie by Avonne

soulmate au (*)

the secret list of very serious (and sober) 100th’s rules by Amethyste_Blanche

fluff

Look The Other Way by Disastrous_Canasta

first meeting, fluff

all roads lead home by cloudystars

biker!au and abo!au, modern universe

A Kiss With A Fist by perpetualmotion

buck defends bucky’s honour

Love Tokens by perpetualmotion

gift giving

moonlight serenade by puffanities

abo!au, omega!bucky, alpha!buck, ongoing series

You and Me (5 Times) by stopstopstopit

various jokes about buck & bucky being married

any day now by tkachukypls

gift giving, bucky gives buck a puppy

Garden in My Heart by 13SapphireStars13

abo!au, omega!bucky, alpha!buck, courting

Smut - no Plot

A Suite at the Ritz by stillheremydear

secret relationship & sneaking around (*)

buck x bucky x curtis fics

I’ll be looking at the moon (but i’ll be seeing you) by moonrocks

1x03, grief/mourning

different but equal by Ikharys

fluff, pre-relationship, sharing beds

my hand was the one you reached for (all throughout the great war) by RavenOfRao

fluff, pre-relationship

A Brief Moment of Mourning by Perpetual Motion

angst, emotional hurt/comfort

First Meetings (and Punishments) by scaraheather

first meetings, pre-relationship

Both (*) by Ikharys

fluff and smut, sharing a bed

each man has got his classification (*) by mpix

smut, jealousy

Out of Reach by studies in subjunctive

unrequited love, (*)

The Long Way Home by livelaughlove_write

post-war, ptsd, love confession

x reader recs

jealous!buck request by @sansaorgana

jealous!buck request (2) by ↑

to the rescue (curtis biddick) by @sagesolsticewrites

with all my gratitude, hope and adoration, john (2) (3) by @buckysegan

twenty five (to life) by MissFreakingFortune

blurb (bucky egan) by @swiftiekisses

Hitchin’ A Ride by @pisupsala

girl dad!gale request by @sansaorgana

Because the Night by @gloryofroses19

Birdie by @jointherebellion215

amor aeternus series by @saturnville

agape (wattpad) by perxwxnkle

Are You Going My Way by pisupsala

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Recently read a post on social media from someone who shared that they don't understand why people complain about the lack of mourning for Tech in season 3, because in their opinion the depiction of grief was adequate, season 3 mentioned Tech several times, the squad are all soldiers and it had been 6 months so of course they've moved on, and what did we expect the squad to do, keep crying?

While I completely respect the person's opinion, I do feel the need to put out there that no, based on what I've seen, I highly doubt those of us who are dissatisfied with how Tech's apparent death was handled feel this way because the squad didn't completely fall apart and melt down in tears all the time.

Speaking for myself, at least, I wasn't expecting any of the brothers to have full-on conversations to work through their grief, and I certainly didn't expect waterworks from any of them (except maybe Wrecker, and he did shed some tears in the s2 finale).

I WAS hoping for something like "We're doing this for Tech" or "It's what Tech would have wanted" or even just a short scene of the entire family having a memorial for him. After all, real life soldiers DO honor their fallen brothers even if it's months after the battle, and even if they don't talk about their feelings or cry.

And given that the show has an EXCELLENT scene of one of those stoic soldiers actually honoring a fallen comrade (without talking or crying, I might add) and gaining some closure - Crosshair with Mayday's helmet - there is absolutely NO reason whatsoever why they couldn't have done something similar for Tech.

I didn't want season 3 to show the brothers perpetually stuck in mourning/grieving for Tech (which, ironically, is what the season pretty much ended up doing, and is precisely the reason why I find this aspect of the story to be so unsatisfying). I DID want season 3 to show the brothers healing from the loss of their brother, finding closure, and moving on to a point where they can openly honor and acknowledge him in meaningful ways, because Tech deserved at least that much from the family he had always loved and sacrificed for.

(For the record, while Tech has always been one of my favorites since day 1, if the show had killed off any of the other Bad Batch members and then handled their death the same way Tech's was handled, I'd be equally disappointed and dissatisfied. I don't think any of the Bad Batch needed to be killed off at all and I would have been devastated with any of their deaths; but if it "had" to be done, at the very least give them a Mayday moment!)

And in the end, this is just one of the major reasons why I'll be in the Tech Lives camp forever.

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience and your kind messages and comments ♥ you are so nice about my silly ramblings, I appreciate it a lot.

previously, on harrowsoup the ninth:

this happened

also I posted this and this as previews and this is the whole tag

currently, chapters 23-26:

"an atmosphere of greater unease had settled over the mithraeum"

aka the emperor's bolthole

btw, no kidding, harrow, I hadn't noticed the unease

so, harrow asks around about the herald situation

I have another deck with dragon heralds but I'm not gonna go on a card tangent this time (you're welcome)

everyone gives terrible and useless descriptions

emperor johnny boy says "Whenever they come I am bundled off to a sealed sanctum at the heart of the Mitrhaeum, so that their insanity can't touch me"

asshole coward awful man

harrobean is trying to ask why emperor asshat is so sure about her having to die and if there's no way she can make it

emperor johnny says yandere twin isn't that good at being a lyctor yet, even if she's surprising and that if he was still giving silly names, he'd name her "Saint of Awe"

harrow thinks "that had not quite suited Naberius"

get perpetually owned, chad

harrow also mentions not being able to remember things well

YOU THINK, HARROW?

"it was as though your brain had formed a scab over everything that had happened to you"

I don't think that scab is healing well

emperor johnny insists on the rapier

idk why they all insist on the rapier

gideon and camilla didn't like it and were the fucking best cavaliers ever

ARE, THEY ARE THE BEST CAVALIERS EVER

PRESENT TENSE

but anyway, at this point, it could very well be emperor johnbro has aesthetic demands

not like he'll explain anything

harrowbean sees not!dulcinea's door closed, which isn't usual

she second guesses a bit because she can't always trust what she sees and she remembers crux saying "you saw what you saw, Lady, and the only thing you control now is your reaction thereto"

I didn't like that old man, but that's pretty cool of him to say

harrow opens the door and sees this

alleged gideon the first aka ortus tells harrow to go away very calmly and in a way that is too nice for him, apparently

harrow is upset at the display in front of her salad and goes to complain to yandere twin

which is a terrible place to complain at because she's both into gossip and into kink

if you want someone to take this seriously, that's the last place to go to

"at least you know who's been moving her—so to speak"

this is what we get combining yandere twin and chad

I've used that gif twice for her already

I forgive her, though, because she says "god is a dickhead" and she's right

she also asks harrow to try to remember why emperor john god has given her the sword

and establishes that harrow previously did something to her jaw so that she couldn't tell her

that's going in the 3d model

CHAPTER 24

apparently people are being less mean to harrowbean because they're already mourning her

harrow says that alleged gideon the first aka ortus has the name ortus because "it was just a banal and uncomfortable coincidence, as though he'd carried the name of a dead childhood pet"

she believes that the name must have caught on in the ninth because anastasia must have like brought it in and named people after her pal

I think he's named gideon

and that our gideon is named after him because of direct relationship of some capacity, maybe to someone involved

I considered the mom, but it's uncertain

in any case, he has to die

so, harrow puts a lot of wards and safety things in her room

kind of like this

home alone styling it

but apparently alleged gideon the first aka ortus can bypass wards

much like the sleeper/waker

much like not!dulcinea

wards are basically pointless, I guess, at this point

so he goes into her bathroom when she's bathing because here in the emperor's bolthole, everyone's a disrespectful asshole

harrowbean says he's "a thanergy void" and "the ultimate nemesis of a bone adept"

he tries to kill her while she's looking like this

I want to give this child some cocoa and play a comfort movie for her, like "the bone collector"

she ended up using the teeth she lost in the fight as projectiles in his eyes and got him to leave

she ended up bloody, unmoving, wet, naked and collapsed on the ground to which yandere twin live reacted to and left

she could have given her a hand

or an arm

she decided alleged gideon had to die and ice cube barbie aka probably annabel lee agreed

when gideon was among us, there was not enough time for her to throw hands at people and here there's so many people she could be throwing hands at and she's not here to do so

camilla too, but camilla threw hands at martita in a way that was legendary enough

CHAPTER 25

harrow goes with the chisme to dr reverend professor emperor john

she says "I swear by the Locked Tomb"

to which he replies "I wouldn't swear by that in this instance"

which I sure hope doesn't mean anything nasty with my girl ice cube barbie annabel lee because I'm gonna kill this man

she might not be entirely alive (maybe she is, maybe she's just suspended or something) but she deserves better than this piece of work

then he says "well, that's unfortunate"

this man really knows how to handle a situation, huh

emperor john says that it's pretty unlikely that alleged gideon the first aka ortus was doing the dirty with not!dulcinea because he never showed interest before and is "legendarily unamorous"

that's another tshirt I need

I need that one and the witch one immediately

also, now we've got a problem

not just because my telenovela about how this man might or might not be related to our gideon got more convoluted

but also because if alleged gideon is aroace, I'm gonna have to stan

I don't make the rules over here, I have to stand by my people

I have a conflict of interest now

emperor john also says "you must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals"

I mean yes, I do, but not because of sexy times with zombies

I'm not here to judge the sexytimes of necromancers and whatever they do in their spare time

I don't know the intricacies of consent with ghosts or whatever, I can't be imparting judgment

it's not that, emperor john

it's because you're unpleasant war criminals who are killing planets for fun

well, the war criminal part I don't have hard evidence on rn but the situation doesn't seem to be in the favor of these people

I feel like when this man talks about the overall situation I'm getting a speech from emperor palpatine

emperor reverend john asks harrow, who has been awake for 25 years, to go to sleep

yeah, sure, she should go to sleep and wait for this guy to come by and try to kill her for the millionth time

meanwhile, harrowbean keeps collecting hours without sleep like

she makes, at the request of emperor camp counselor john, soup for everyone

I don't remember if it was here or before and I forgot but, this is extremely important

they mentioned cassiopeia being the one who cooked before

cassiopeia the same one with the ceramics collection, if I'm remembering correctly

cassiopeia who was also from the sixth, I think

camilla's house

she's checking every single one of my boxes like a sniper

why isn't she here, we're stuck with the grumpy one and the senior chad

ANYWAY, at the mention of harrow cooking I thought, immediately, "that's an awesome way to kill this guy"

I was picturing more like a poison type situation, although I didn't know how that could be achieved

something like this

but I should have known poison was too subtle for harrowcita

like I established back when protozoa's head was found in her closet, subtle isn't harrow's style

so it was more like this

basically, harrow sectioned her tibia to put some in the soup and then she could necrobend it so that it attacked from the inside

if I'm getting it right

insane plan and I love it

emperor john shadyman says "ten thousand years since I've eaten human being, Harrow, and I didn't really want an encore."

were they snacking on people during the Resurrection???

did they kill people by making lunch?????

???????????????????????????????????????????

"you think we're bad because we have sexy times with ghoulies?? uwu" that's the least of my concerns johnny john man

harrow then breaks down and asks straight to his face WHY THE FUCK MUST SHE SUFFER LIKE THIS

she calls herself a nonsense

the only nonsense here is what this emperor man speaks

she tells him she hasn't slept in six days

for a sleep deprived plan, it was excellent tbh

emperor man over here asks yandere twin to take her to sleep

and then stays with mercygirl to whom he says it's insane that harrow could do what she did and how did mercygirl miss that

this is the situation, as I have previously established

augustine looks at harrow "as if he had seen the ghost of someone he did not particularly like"

alleged gideon the first aka ortus salutes her on her way out

he doesn't even have heartburn

CHAPTER 26

we're back on gideon-less canaan house because it's time for more people to die

in ways that make 0 sense at all for what we know so far

regina george twin is pushed to her death by mayonnaise uncle

sounds fake to me

like, come on

regina george twin can probably murder that feeble guy on sight

we saw her spar with gideon, she wanted to be the cav that chad ended up being

she might not be a necro but she can stand her ground in a physical fight

mayonnaise uncle without duracell bunny nephew is like a sweaty guy on an anime con complaining about girls ruining everything while buying a maid figurine

she can take him

anyway, he does that and he says to her "and somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered"

now, this is weird

is he talking about yandere twin?

he wants revenge because yandere twin obliterated him?

is yandere twin "out there"?

I'd say this might be limbo BUT CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD

harrow is going to him and he says "she has not remembered her end" "is this how it happens then?"

and then he yeeted himself into space

that's what I wanted to do with not!dulcinea all along

so, yeah, well, this canaan business is getting more complicated now that it's not just people being shot

people are throwing themselves and others into space

and the memories of harrow in the emperor's bolthole aren't completely lining up with these

and mayonnaise uncle seemed to have been more aware of things than others around here?? or maybe just more forthcoming??? in that cryptic otaku way of his

also, no camilla at all still

Things are heating up in the emperor's bolthole, hope to come back soon with another one and thanks for the patience, hope it was worth it.

[itslyssalala]

hello tumblr! i'm very nervous to post my doodles but i am very excited for veilguard and wanted to join in the community!

these are just some sketches of my planned Rook: she/her, perpetually tired mourn watch necromancer, weaknesses include sweets and dark-haired men (I can't decide between Lucanis and Davrin!)

[communist-ojou-sama]

In what fucking world is Nasrallah honorable? You wrote that post in bad faith.

Being the leader of a literal terrorist organization is not something that suddenly becomes okay just because another terror state assassinates him. He’s still a horrible atrocious monster of a person and even though an extremely disproportional amount of force was used to kill him, HE still deserved it.

And before you clap back with some accusatory bullshit, fuck Israel, I am not a supporter. I mourn for the innocent victims of their genocide; Nasrallah is not one of them.

That would.be because while the US was funding and arming ISIS to depose the secular legitimate government of Syria, the brave fighters of Hezbollah were fighting them and routed and destroyed them, saving the lives of countless Christians, Druze, Alawis, Yazidis, and indeed Muslims.

It's because when the Zionist Enemy waged a brutal and genocidal incursion upon Gaza with the aid of their USAmerican backers, the first people to come to the aid of the Izz al-Din al Qassam Brigades were the honorable fighters of Hezbollah with the Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah (may his name live in honor in perpetuity) at their helm.

Every single fighter and leader within Hezbollah has more honor, more courage, and more fortitude in their pinky toe than youve ever had throughout your entire life you worthless, cowardly, impotent Western leftist. History will remember you an accomplice of the genocidaires.

All glory to the Resistance and to the martyrs. Death to the Zionist Enemy and to it's USAmerican masters.

[martyrbat]

if there's one thing you gotta know about me is that im always going to reccomend the story perpetual mourning aka the first story in batman black and white 1996 like legitimately nothing else about me matters more than my intense insistence that everyone should read the short story perpetual mourning from the first issue of the comic batman black and white (1996) nothing matters more to me than being an advocate for everyone reading the first 8 pages of the 1996 comic batman black and white so they can experience the story perpetual mourning

[swordbisexual]

A Party

Rolan Week Day Four

In which Rolan seeks Shaxibis out just before sunrise. 2.1k words

(cross-posted to AO3)

--

“Any minute now. Just you wait.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I swear!”

Gods, but Cal and Lia can be just as bad as the children. They’ve been circling back round to this argument all night, when they aren’t busy drinking or dancing or singing horribly off-key along with Alfira’s relentless lute-playing. Even during a victory celebration, Lia can’t help but see the worst - which Rolan finds all too relatable, and therefore annoying beyond belief - and Cal can’t help but try to keep her from matching, in their words, the “perpetual Rolan sulk.”

The subject of Cal’s optimism is the sunrise; a thing none of them have seen for days now, so long that Rolan has to wonder if they’ve been stuck here for the ages and eons it’s felt like beneath the interminable moonlit night. According to Cal’s reckoning, they’re less than an hour out from dawn, which has only served to rouse the actual children into staying up well past the wee hours just to see it. If anything, Lia’s arguing is likely only to serve as entertainment. She and Cal can be a right double act when they’ve a mind to it, and for once, Rolan is just glad that he’s not the butt of their jokes.

There is something lightening the air around Last Light Inn that feels more widespread and far-reaching than the cleric’s spell. While most of the Harpers are still at Moonrise making a last sweep for straggling cultists, Cal and Lia and Danis and Lakirssa all agreed, quietly, that they’d rather spend the night back here before setting back out with what remains of their fellow Elturians. They’ve scrounged up what they can from the wine cellar and made a proper party of it, or as best they can with what they’ve got.

To everyone’s great surprise, Shaxibis and her band of misfits all came to join them on their last hurrah. It’s fitting, really; the children swarm Wyll and Karlach just like they did back at the Grove, and even Astarion’s skulking in the corner feels nearly the same as his skulking during the party at the riverside camp. All that’s changed is the location, and the quality of the wine, and, well…

Everything.

The city is closer than ever before, and with it his apprenticeship. His future. That there is a greater threat looming feels like something he can actually face, and maybe even stand down, with the help of proper training. He could be more than the greatest wizard the Gate has seen. He could help, like Lia has begged him to from the start, and he could do it with all the heroism and flair as…

As…

Damnation.

Baldur’s Gate and all the accomplishment it promises has been far from the first thing on his mind, truthfully. For the last half hour, Rolan has been watching the door, waiting for Shaxibis to return. After her last duet with Alfira, she’d begged off, saying that she just needed some fresh air. No one else seems to have noticed that her brief step outside has stretched out beyond reasonable measure.

But for Rolan, he may as well be waiting for sunrise of another sort.

No one notices when he slips away as well, picking up a bottle of wine and two empty goblets along the way, stepping outside the inn and starting a slow, searching circuit around its perimeter. She could be anywhere - the lakeside, the cellar, even the upstairs balcony - and he hasn’t the faintest idea of where to start, or whether she actually wants to be found.

“The water is wide, I cannot cross over…”

There. The strings of an instrument; not as richly-toned as a lute, but not as sweepingly ethereal as a lyre, either. There’s a simple, mournful quality to whatever is being strummed, almost as enchanting as the voice it accompanies.

“Neither have I wings to fly…”

Rolan follows the sound of Shaxibis’ voice, soft and low, to the dock below. There she sits, alone on the wooden slats, her feet dangling to nearly skim the water’s surface. Little light makes it down here near the inn’s cellars, but her hair glows like a moon all its own, unbound from the knots she’s taken to wearing it in so that it waves around her neck and skims her bare shoulders.

She’s quiet, and in that quiet there is a new, soft loveliness to her. And that only makes his stomach roil and head swim even more.

Whatever instrument she plays is laid across her lap, its wooden body gently curved at the sides, and only strung with four strings that ring out like a chime with every sweep of her thumbnail. She slides her other fingers along the fretboard with an ease that looks like second, simple nature. This is not an instrument she has studied; this is one she was practically born playing, as much as part of her as her own hands. It’s so like how he naturally slips into his own self-taught spellwork, and like a spell, he’s so entranced that he can’t look away.

“Bring me a boat that can carry two, and both shall row, my love and I.”

He hangs back to listen. Most of the songs he’s ever heard her play are old standards, and always lively, dancing tunes. Things that inspire the bold to dance, and the meek to tap their toes in time, and someone as upright as himself to lean in, just a little, to better hear the sound. This song, though, is so sweetly wistful, and with the simplest of chords strummed on the simplest of strings, he feels it as a knot in his throat and an ache in his lungs.

Her voice trails off, and she turns her head to look just so over her shoulder. “I know you’re there, Rolan.”

Wincing, he steps out of the shadows and onto the dock. “And here I thought I was being stealthy.”

She snorts. “For a crowded city street, maybe.” When he doesn’t move to join her, she turns to look him in full, then pats the space beside her, cocking a brow. “Well?”

Rolan finally lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and he takes the last few steps to the edge of the dock. Carefully, he places the wine and the cups at her side, then sits down with the drink between them. With a small grunting huff through his nose, he tugs his robes up around his knees to keep the hem from dipping into the lake. “You know, you’d have a rapt audience inside.”

She looks down at the instrument in her lap and plucks a string. “This one is just for me, really.”

He gets a closer look. The body is bowed much like a violin’s, but it’s longer and slimmer, with a much less pronounced curve. The carvings on its body are similarly plain: only a pair of twin hearts, charmingly simple, with the notches of whatever knife hewed them out still visible along the curved tops. “What is it?”

Shaxibis runs a hand over the fretboard and smiles, fondly, making Rolan’s stomach flutter. “A dulcimer.”

“I’ve never seen such a thing before.”

“You wouldn’t have.” She strums it again, and he notices that two of the strings are closely paired together, and they echo one another with the same note. “They aren’t seen much in the bards’ guildhalls. Definitely not in tavern rooms.” Idly, she presses down on the frets, and the same tune she’d been singing moments ago hums beneath her touch. “Folk up in the High Forest hills play them at home, mostly.”

All he knows to do is uncork the wine and pour. “So that is where the great Shaxibis comes from.”

She wrinkles her nose at him, but she still takes the goblet that he offers up and drinks deep. “I’m the ‘great’ now, hm?”

“After all you’ve done?” He takes his own drink and swirls it beneath his nose, breathing in the scent of stone fruit beneath the richly tannic top notes. “I suppose you’re at least ‘good.’”

She laughs. “High praise.”

That laugh is more intoxicating than the wine at his lips. He wants to sing her praises as poetry, but for all his appreciation for the fine arts, he hasn’t even the slightest gift for them. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I would never.” She sets her goblet down and turns her attention back to the dulcimer in her lap, playing a few more bars of the tune, though she only hums along now, keeping the song’s words to herself. The song dwindles away again, and she sits in silence; strange, for her to be so, and it makes Rolan hold his breath as he stares into the deep red dregs of his wine.

Finally, she speaks again. “You’re lucky.”

Rolan furrows his brows and turns towards her. “You must be joking.”

She should be, because that’s her way, but the look in her eyes as she turns her face up to his is anything but droll. There’s a sad shine to that gold-flecked gaze, breathtakingly wistful, and when she smiles, it never quite makes it any higher than the curve of her cheek. “I mean it. To have a family like yours…”

He frowns with a sigh. “Not by blood,” he says. “I’m not…” He gestures in helpless circles with his goblet. “Not really their family.”

“You try telling Lia that.” Shaxibis picks up the bottle and tilts it towards him til he brings his cup over to be filled once more. “See what happens.”

“Fine.” He watches her pour a few glugs into her own cup and chews his bottom lip. “And what of your family?”

She raises her cup back in the general direction of the inn. “Could I join in on yours?”

The words seize him like a bolt of lightning, blinding his good sense for a moment and rooting him to the spot with sudden visions of what it would mean for Shaxibis to be a part of his life. To see her every day, to groan at her constant jokes, to secretly hope for her laugh of delight and hand over his and—

What are you thinking? Just as quickly, he comes to his senses. If anything, it was simply a figure of speech, an easy way for Shaxibis to deflect his question and declare that she is fond of Cal and Lia all in one fell swoop. She could not possibly mean it any other way, and he is a fool for letting his imagination run full tilt away from him at even the slightest suggestion.

Or… perhaps not.

“I didn’t mean…” Her eyes have gone wide, and in the dim light he can nearly see a flush darkening her cheeks. She licks her lips; suddenly, he cannot look away. “I just…”

There is a lightening rosy glow behind her now, reflected off the lake’s glittering surface beyond. Sunrise. So it is still real, and the curse was lifted, and the impossible truly is possible, isn’t it? That is what pushes him to try, to lean in, to tilt his head just so, to brush the pad of his thumb to her chin and bump his knuckle beneath in a wordless question that hangs between his tongue and parted lips on bated breath.

She kisses him, gently, with lips the color and taste of wine. Those lips are as bold as the rest of her, but soft too, soft in this quiet space between. A gentle hum in her throat, the warmest breath of air as she exhales against his cheek, and while she doesn’t move any closer, in truth she doesn’t have to. This is close enough - too close - and the millimeters between his nose to her cheek, her hand hovering at the edge of his jaw, all of those minuscule spaces are brimming with raw, powerful magic, a hum like thunder as steady and rolling as a drum.

Just as surely as she leaned in to him, she is the one who breaks them apart, and he aches with the cool kiss of the air in her absence. “We should go,” she says. “Before they come looking for us.”

Rolan drops his hand from her chin, but he still lets it hang in the space between them. “Shaxibis…”

She moves her dulcimer from her lap and swings her legs up to the dock, moving to stand. “You already thanked me once,” she says, scooping up her wine cup and the half-empty bottle as she graces him with another painfully wistful smile. “I don’t want to be greedy.”

[moodymisty]

(This isn't a request, just some Konrad daydreams driven by 4am insomnia that had me screeching and I just have to share with someone while I wait for my meds to kick in!!)

Your recent post about the stinky rat man got me thinking of something truly, hilariously awful: Konrad's favorite meow meow is a PERPETUAL.

Maybe he watches her die. Maybe he accidentally kills her himself. Whatever happens, he'd probably be losing. his. fucking. mind.

..And then she comes back. Oh god, I'm loving imagining at how truly deranged he would be over that. I know he tortures Vulkan SUPER HARD after finding out he's a perpetual, but that seemed driven a lot by "You think you're good and noble(and sane)? I'll drag you down to my level."

I wonder if he'd mistake her as some kind of phantom/delusion brought on by grief and madness at first. Extra comedy: he accidentally(purposely?) kills her again while freaking out over her showing back up alive LMAO. Meow meow can't catch a fuckin' break with this man.

Now I'm wondering how a few other primarchs would react to something similar though

Sanguinius and his sons in mourning and his dead wife just shows back up like "Why did you bury me alive?!" completely unaware she DIED.

Perturabo's shitass sons being like "I told you it was a waste of time!" and then the horror of realizing they didn't escape their step-mom after all.

I'd assume all the primarchs would try to find out what the fuck happened, and maybe go to Malcador for information once they start drawing blanks? Idk.

Fulgrim would so cute, just hyped as fuck. "I have a wife? That won't get old and die before me?? I don't have to lose this one???" Bonus points if she's the last one he was going to marry because he got too heartbroken seeing his wives get old and die over and over 😫 the queen and her corgis vibe forreal

I can't really figure out Mortarion even though he's one of my faves. On one hand, WITCH!! On the other hand,he'd be so relieved the One Good Thing in his life isn't actually gone forevet..

Oh my g o d. Lorgar. Thefucking goddess shit would go CRAZY. Kor Phaeron slamming his head against a wall because he thought he finally WON. HOW DID SHE DO THAT? Some of his followers getting spooked about being rid of her because s u r e l y it was the Powers who orchestrated such a miracle... So maybe she is meant to be here? Uh oh.

Guilliman is another one I'm just like ????. All I can think of, is he'd quietly go find Emps/Malcador and be like "whattheFUCK? explain?please?how?"

It might be because I'm heavily sedated but it's all sO funny to think about. Some legions quietly rejoicing because The Distraction is gone and shejust. Comes back 😭

But can you imagine the parties thrown by the ones who really loved their legion mothers?! And you thought theFUNERAL was extravagant..

Im not sure what time it is there but I hope you slept well and have a good morning! Sorry forcthis stream of consciousness garbage by theway LOL but you always have such cool takes on things I couldnt help muself

This a joy to read friend, I have nothing to add.

Lorgar in particular with a perpetual beloved would be fucking INSANE. His whole religious trauma would be going wild as well as even some of the more apprehensive Word Bearers might be a bit more, respectful.

Imaging Vulkan's wife ends up coming back a few weeks after they desperately mourned her loss, and it's time for the galaxy's largest hug. They form a line.

[siderealcity]

Okay, I said in another post that I think there were a lot of parallels between Dawntrail and Heavensward, and I threatened to talk more about that. So, here's me making good on that threat.

Grief, mourning, and letting go are such recurring themes in ffxiv, we find them in literally every expansion. It's a key plot point, as well as a theme. The Ascians, ultimately, are driven by their grief. They are unable to let go of their dead, literally. The souls of those they sacrificed cannot be let go, because they are the bulwark holding back despair from destroying everything.

Just... just think about that for a moment.

The dead are the ones protecting us from succumbing to despair.

And so, over and over, we see characters who are dealing with the consequences of memory, grief, and loss. Nidhogg, in his relentless rage, is unable to move forward out of his memory of Ratatoskr's murder. Hraesvelger, likewise, cannot let go of Shiva's memory, and deliberately so.

But at the same time, we also see characters continually struggling with the consequences of forgetting what they've lost. From the very beginning of the MSQ in ARR, we have people trying and failing to hold services to grieve for the dead they cannot remember. Alisaie even makes a scathing remark about it at the time. The loss was real, the scars it left still hurt, but those who have forgotten can't move on. Not fully. Cid is, in some ways, the prime example of this in ARR, since when we meet him he is clearly traumatized. His lack of memory doesn't in any way insulate him from the horror of what he suffered--in some ways it might be worse because he's unable to even attempt to process it. He can't begin to heal until he begins to reclaim his memories.

What do we owe to the dead? How do we live with grief? How do we heal from loss?

Heavensward takes these ideas and makes them a battlefield.

On one side: Nidhogg, who remembers and can't move on, trapped in a moment of perpetual outrage forever. On the other, the Ishgardians, who have no idea what happened to bring this down upon them. And on the final side: Hraesvelgr, who remembers everything and clings to his grief because unlike his brother, the memory of those he loved and lost keeps him sane.

Thordan, in Heavensward, plays the part of Preservation in Dawntrail. He's deliberately keeping his people from the truth of what happened to them, supposedly to keep them together, to protect them. Only united can they withstand Nidhogg's justified anger. That's the claim. And yet, their ignorance, and the cultivated false memory that the Holy See created for them, doesn't keep them together. The heretics, as Ysayle demonstrates, deeply feel that something is wrong. The lowborn already had revolutionaries like Hilda, ready to tear things down. They know it's a lie. Something terrible happened to them, but they're robbed of the power to do anything about it.

Keeping their guilt and grief at bay only serves to make them controllable. It's not ultimately for their benefit. And it turns them into a powder keg ready to explode.

We see this again in Stormblood with Yotsuyu and Fordola. Yotsuyu forgets her guilt and trauma, and as a result, once she reclaims her memory she rejects the very notion of moving forward. Fordola accepts redemption, however grudgingly, when it's offered to her specifically because she is forced to remember what she did.

Shadowbringers and Endwalker make it even more clear: Every monster we've battled, every crisis, every calamity, every machination, all of it has been unresolved grief all along. Those who remember what they've lost destroy the present to bring back the past, while Fandaniel, who made himself forget, just wants to burn it all down. No more futures, no more past.

The patches that lead into Dawntrail add another dimension to the question of what we owe to the dead, one which began back in Shadowbringers and Endwalker: How do we let go?

If the dead are our shield against despair and ruin, how can we possibly let them go? Because, as they make more and more clear throughout the MSQ, and the raids, and the Void quests, none of this benefits the dead. The dead we meet overwhelmingly want to be released. The denizens of the Thirteenth are literally fighting for the chance to rest. Durante's decision to irrevocably seal his friend in crystal rather than let him die wasn't for Golbez's sake. It was his own inability to cope with loss. Lahabrea, Elidibus, and Erichthonios have their memories dredged up by Athena to prop up her personal agenda, not because she cares about any of them in the slightest. Those who, like the ancients who created Zodiark and Hydaelyn, already gave their entire lives. Wasn't that enough? Shouldn't they be allowed to go?

Is what we owe to the dead, more than anything else, to make peace with our own memories of them?

So then we get to Dawntrail.

For the first time in the MSQ we see a plot begin with the premise: How do we plan for the future? What do those who came before owe to those who come after? Which, honestly, seems like a pretty logical progression from where we've been. We've ended the cycle of ancient tragedy and let the dead who were protecting us finally rest. Now we have to look ahead.

Which is why the Yok Huy graveyard is such an important turning point in the plot, because for so long in this game we've been seeing characters who refuse to let the dead go, who cling to their unresolved anger and grief, or who forget entirely and are unable to heal. And here we have the example of people who remember the dead, who keep that memory alive, specifically for the benefit of those who come after. So they won't forget the pain and sorrows that were suffered in the past. So their future might be brighter than their past. The Yok Huy carve in stone memories for the living.

Alexandria presents its idea in the same language, that the dead are not gone so long as they're remembered, but none of that is for the benefit of the living.

It's the worst possible fusion of remembering and forgetting. Alexandria refuses to accept loss, and just like Durante, seals up the memories of the dead and pretends this means they aren't truly dead. At the same time erasing those memories from their own minds, just as Hermes did. So they can't grieve, and can't heal from the wound they just inflicted upon themselves.

Just as uploading memories to the cloud is framed as being for the benefit of the living, the Golden City is framed as being for the benefit of the dead. But the Endless aren't living there. Their time is done. Their memories are preserved, like butterflies on pins in a glass case. This isn't serving them. The attitudes of those we meet in Living Memory are no different from those of Hythlodaeus on the moon, or the Twelve, or Themis at the end of Pandaemonium. Almost every single person expresses that they are ready to go. They got the closure they wanted, and they're done. Any minute now, Alexandria. Any time you want to let them rest, they're happy with that.

I compared Sphene to Hraesvelgr, and I still think that holds true in the sense that she, alone, remembers and grieves for everything that was lost by her world.

But it might be more accurate to compare her to Shiva, actually.

Sphene is the memory that Alexandria clings to, refuses to let go, because she keeps them sane. As their world fell apart, and they lost more and more, her memory was what kept them going. She is to her shard what the Warrior of Light was to G'raha and the people of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, and that's why he has that talk on the gondola with us. Why he specifically asks how we would feel being a resident of Living Memory. Because if things had been different, WoL could have been Sphene. She is the one and only Endless that the people of Alexandria ever see. Their proof that death doesn't exist, and therefore there's nothing they need to grieve.

Otis, the memory preserved of a man who knew he had failed and lost everything, is the one character in Alexandria afraid to see Sphene. The only person who can grieve her. The only one who actually does, is the only one who can raise Gulool Ja. The only one the abandoned, unwanted, forgotten child trusts.

Her successor. Alexandria's hope of a future.

[crispy-dib]

PROJECT PATCHWORK #4/ MAJOR UPDATE PART 2:

“Sinyala’s Happy Family”

Previous - Next

(Long as hell post lmao - get ready to read!)

Eli, incredibly cautiously, makes his way over to Phyllis, trembling with every step, searching intensely for any signs of aggression.

But from Mother there was none. The goose simply looked perpetually angry.

Eventually, Eli embraces Phyllis, his head resting against her chest.

“Ahh, come on! Y’gonna give him some sugar and not even give ME a taste?!” Franco yells, balling his fists together and stomping like a g-ddamn cartoon.

Phyllis turns to Franco with what appeared to be her version of a scowl.

“Naughty boys like YOU have to earn Mother’s time!” She scolds.

There’s a short pause, then Doctor Futterman speaks:

“Besides, he’s also been brushing. Look at his teeths!”

Another short pause.

Phyllis lifts up Eli’s chin, inspecting both the teeth on his mask and his actual teeth.

While damaged, they were shockingly white.

“Why, you’re right, Doctor Daddy! Like pearls they are…” Phyllis trails.

She gently offers her hand, and she walks Eli to a sink, treating his reopened wounds.

On the other side of the screens, Dr. Easterman lights a cigarette, offering one to his associate, who declines.

“Are we celebrating or mourning?” She asks.

“Celebrating - normally I’d offer you a drink, but I think you have to be sober to enjoy this.” Easterman replies with a grin.

“Why are we allowing this?” She asks, her skepticism making Hendrick scoff and shake his head.

He squints for a moment.

“What do you think is a problem?” He almost accuses.

“Why are we letting Futterman nurture Elliot…isn’t the whole part of this therapy to break them?”

“Because the family is growing.” He takes a drag on his cigarette for a moment, exhaling smoothly.

“So we have Mother, Father, Baby, and…?”

“Grandmother.”

“…Really?”

Hendrick nods.

“Patchwork’s a remarkable case - one that’s sure to raise our innocent baby into a true gentleman.”

“This is about Reagent deaths.”

“Precisely. With someone almost constantly with Baby, we can ensure that he grows into what we need. It will work…the therapies just take time.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“We cannot afford it to fail. Not now.”

Hendrick takes another drag.

“Not ever.”

His attention was immediately turned to the cameras, as he hears a soft whimper.

“Mm…mama…” Eli trembles.

“That is what I’ve been waiting for.” Hendrick says.

“You’re breakin’ my fuckin’ balls here!” Franco complains.

“Oh shut up ya whiny brat!” Dr. Futterman growls.

“Hey, you want my shit?!” Franco threatens.

“Enough!!” Phyllis scolds. “There is a child present!”

“My ass! Dat’s a tall glass a’ watah…” Franco smirks, not even subtly checking Eli out.

Eli’s face immediately reflects disgust, looking at Franco up and down with a scowl. Well, at least that was something he was used to.

“Tell me dear, what do you like to wear? These clothes are filthy! You need something nice,” Phyllis asks.

“…Pants would be nice…”

“SO HE CAN TALK?” Franco exclaims.

It’s met with a glare.

“Come along then, little gosling! Mother knows where to go!” Phyllis giggles.

Eli takes her hand and they walk out of the sleep room.

“Tell them to release Coyle into the trial Gooseberry and Patchwork are entering. Mother needs to meet Baby’s father.”

[nerdyenby]

Seasons one and early two are Lloyd being a kid and getting to be a brat sometimes.

Late season two through season seven are Lloyd being forced to grow up too quick and not allowing himself to process literally anything, devoting his entire being to becoming who destiny told him to be.

Seasons eight through ten are Lloyd having literally having all of his trauma shoved back in his face but worse. Not to mention his dead dad isn’t dead anymore, isn’t his dad anymore, and is trying to kill him, whilst 83% of his support system is presumed dead. Also the girl who emotionally abused him dies for realsies.

Seasons eleven through fifteen are Lloyd trying to figure out how to address all the shit he’s been through without letting it consume him. It’s him leaning on his friends, allowing himself to confide in others and finally acknowledging how much that stuff fucked him up. It’s him accepting that the world can be cruel and it’s him choosing to believe that people can still be good. It’s him learning to trust again, and it’s him allowing himself to feel his hurt while still finding a way to live in spite of it.

Crystallized is Lloyd giving up. Everything he has he loses, everyone he loves leaves — by choice or otherwise. Just like Kai, he internalizes this loss by rationalizing that he wasn’t good enough to save them. He walks away. He tries to live a normal life for a bit. It isn’t enough. He can’t not do anything. He can’t leave the family he’s found, the family that found him. No matter how much it hurts to lose them, he will never stop fighting to find them again. Even if he has to face everything he hates and fears about himself, even if he has to confront the man that was once his father, even if he has to willingly step into what he fears most — letting his anger and hurt consume him, becoming just another perpetuator of violence and loss — he will never stop fighting to protect those he loves. He can’t cross that line. He could if he wanted to, but he can’t and he never will, but loss of any kind is not something Lloyd is willing to take sitting down.

And then in the Merge, Lloyd loses everyone all over again. He’s entirely and undeniably alone for the first time in years, but why does it feel so familiar? He’s mourned so many loved ones so many times, but why does this feel so different? But he’s not alone, not entirely. The others could still be out there, and there are still people to be saved. Loss is an old friend of his, but she never sticks around. In spite of it all, Lloyd keeps living. He keeps fighting and he keeps loving. He stays isolated in the monastery, but the doors stay open. He’s learned to keep his heart open, even when heavy with loss. He continues to look for his family and he continues help people where he can. He remembers how lost he has been, how lost he once was, with nowhere and no one to call home, and he will never give up until no one is ever that alone ever again. Lloyd has lost so much, but he’s learned to never stop letting people in. Arin and Sora remind him so much of himself — two kids left to fend for themselves, no family to be found but each other, unnoticed by the world at large until their potentials show themselves — and there was never a world in which Lloyd didn’t take them in with open arms.

Was written in response to this post by @alizibtheterrible but it quickly got out of hand and I didn’t want to hijack their post lol

[fmluder24]

Someone Worked Hard On This: Thoughts on Fandom Etiquette and Criticizing Problematic Fan Work

This is a very long post. There is a TLDR at the bottom.

I posted about a TikTok edit I had seen recently and mentioned another in the tags that was set to the Taylor Swift song “Timeless.” Someone replied that I shouldn’t talk that way about fan edits, because they take a lot of work and if I don’t like an edit I should just ignore it.

Here’s the thing. I cannot just forget about this edit because it was very well executed. And very hurtful. I have gone back and forth about whether or not to include the edit in this post, but I wouldn’t want to lead to some type of pile on on the creators TikTok page. Regardless, I think it is important to talk about how we balance current fandom etiquette with room for criticism and disagreement when fan creations perpetuate harmful ideas or tropes.

For some background about myself, I have been pretty heavily involved in fandom across a variety of fandoms and a variety of platforms for the last 15 years. Some fandoms are very self aware and open to critically evaluating the source material, other fandoms (Star Trek lmao) can be very obnoxiously up their own asses about their source material. Like everyone in the world, I come into fandom with all of my various identities and baggage, which inform how I engage with media and with the fandoms that come up around it. I write fic and I used to make a lot of edits, so I have some experience on the fan work creator end of things.

Back to The Edit, which is really just one example out of countless times someone in a fandom has created something that has intentionally or not harmed someone.

This edit took clips of Mulder and 1940s Scully interacting during the episode “Triangle” and set them to the following lyrics from the Taylor Swift song “Timeless.”

“even if we'd met

On a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

You still would've been mine

We would have been timeless.”

The edit then goes on to show clips from Season 9 showing the emails Mulder sends to Scully, set to lyrics about love letters. That part of the song is not the issue. It’s the lyrics about the 1940s that make me cringe.

I am not the first nor the last person to dislike those lines in the Taylor Swift song, as it shows a real trivialization of history. Taylor Swift isn’t unique in doing this. It is very common to see media created by white people, especially white people with pretty insulated and privileged lives, where the past is this beautiful transcendental playground, a beautiful oil painting to slide into for a few hours and not a place full of unimaginable suffering for anyone that wasn’t a super rich white man. In Swift’s song, World War II is the backdrop for her meet-cute, not one of the most bloody conflicts in human history, with a level of industrialized brutality worldwide that, if you really sit with it, is breathtaking.

One of the atrocities that comes to most people’s minds when you bring up the year 1944 is the Holocaust. The Holocaust is the topic most relevant to the problems I have with the edit, so that is the particular atrocity and insensitivity I as a Jew will be focusing on in this post. Of course, of course, there are many other historical atrocities experienced by other communities that are also routinely trivialized in fandom spaces and elsewhere. (The one that springs to mind for me immediately is the entire existence of plantation weddings, and those Interview with the Vampire cosplayers who got in major shit for creating content while on a tour at a plantation. To me, I find trivializing and romanticizing slavery and the suffering of Black enslaved people disgusting and I don’t support people who would do a wedding or cosplay at a place that should be a space for education and mourning.)

But forgive me for the purposes of this example if I focus on the Holocaust in the context of this edit. As stated, this problem isn’t unique to Taylor Swift so hopefully no Swifties come at me. The trivialization of World War II is also on peak display in the very X Files episode we are focusing on today— Season 6, Episode 3, “Triangle.”

In “Triangle,” Mulder goes looking for a ship lost in the Bermuda Triangle and winds up trapped in the 1940s on a cruise liner where Nazis are trying to find a scientist that is going to be essential for the development of the atomic bomb. This episode was an intentional homage to, of all things, the Alfred Hitchcock movie “Rope.” The movie is done in three shots and the episode is meant to look like it was shot in three shots, strategically edited to hide the edits. It’s a fun aesthetic goal, but it is just an aesthetic goal. It’s clear to me that the plot exists as a vehicle for the chance to edit an episode in that way. For me, the aesthetic choices a creator makes should forward the story they are setting out to tell, not the other way around. But “Triangle” is style over substance all the way down.

I have been talking at this point about the trivialization of World War II in the episode; now I will turn to the trivialization of the Holocaust. What most fans I have interacted with seem to see when they watch the episode is a fun time travel episode. I see a character that faces antisemitism on the regular, whose ambiguous Judaism (accused Judaism, more like) is frequently used to heighten the stakes in episodes like the one immediately prior to this one— “Drive.” I see that character played by a patrilineally Jewish actor, whose family left what is now Ukraine in 1918. I see someone who, had the twists of history twisted in a slightly different direction, would not have been born because of the Nazi villains that are beating the crap out of him in this episode. It takes privilege to not see that upon viewing this episode. But, I cannot blame people for missing it, because the episode was fundamentally written from a place that completely deracinates World War II, Nazis, and Jewish victims of Nazis. This all becomes the playground for the writers to have Mulder and Scully finally kiss. For me, the escapist fantasy doesn’t work because I cannot decontextualize the history.

This edit married the privileged escapist fantasy of “Triangle” with the privileged escapist fantasy of “Timeless.” In that way, and in the technical skill involved, it was truly a solid edit. But, the use of Duchovny, in both the fantasy of the edit and the fantasy of the episode, draws attention to the real world victims of the violence both pieces of media trivialize in ways that the creators likely did not intend. The privileged escapist fantasy then takes on additional bent, where it is not just the 1940s as the setting for a love story, but the 1940s as the setting for a Jewish person to be put in peril by literal Nazis. In my less charitable moments, I believe that is an unconscious feature—a fetishization— and not a bug for Carter and the fans alike.

This edit perpetuated the trivialization of World War II and the Holocaust present in both the source song and the source episode. What are we to do when fans create work that intentionally or not chooses to perpetuate something harmful? I do not think refusing to ever criticize something just because it was made by another fan and not the official creator is healthy. I say this all as someone who writes fanfic and used to do a lot of Star Trek fan edits and memes on TikTok. I understand the “gift economy” model of modern fandom, but some gifts should be criticized.

Where do we draw the line between criticizing something for being harmful and being nit picky towards people creating art in their free time? I don’t think it’s always an easy line. I’m not going to pretend I know the best way forward in every case. Refusing to give any room to criticism of fan works allows for shit from the source material to seep uncritically into what could be a community where we really transform the source material for the better. The general rule of thumb of not dragging down other fans is great, but it can easily be used to silence marginalized fans disagreeing with the fans from more dominant cultural groups.

TLDR— I watched an edit on TikTok that combined the worst parts of “Triangle” with the worst parts of “Timeless” and I think sometimes it’s healthy to dislike something another fan made. Taking the gift economy model to an extreme silences diverging points of view.

[verdemoun]

Ghhhhshh im so sorry bc im like. Pretty sure u made a post abt the callander boys pretty recently but.. If ur up to it can we get more on whqt u think of them?😋 i love them SOOO MUCHHH and the way u talk abt them is always so AWESOMEEEE

rubbing my grubby little mits together

The origins of my Mac and Davey Callander: their parents immigrated from Scotland when Mac was a wee toddler. Davey was later born in America. Mac had a completely normal childhood, went to school, and was well on his way to being just some guy when their father was killed in a wagon incident. He left school to look after Davey while their mother tried to find work. Being a woman, this was nearly impossible, and it wasn't long before their house knew the glow of a red lamp. A few months shy of Mac's 10th birthday, their mother also passed away (syphilis) and he was left orphaned and sole carer for a 4 year old Davey

Mac spent the next 3 years in a perpetual state of terror, selling what he could, stealing what he had to, chasing the pipe dream of giving Davey a normal life. Less than a year after their mom died, the landlord kicked them out. For Davey, their new life of camping out under the stars was another amazing adventure. Mac, in contrast, was so stressed his hair fell out in chunks and the only time he slept was when he collapsed.

Things got a lot easier after Mac decided to pick a handgun off a guy who passed out drunk at a bar. Originally, it was for safety, and then the occasional intimidation tactic in a hold-up, and then before they knew it Davey was 17 and they were committing their first bank robbery together.

They'd never run with the gang before the VDLs. It had only ever been the two of them, which showed in their uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking at all times: especially on a job. The only thing witnesses would report them saying to one another was Mac giving Davey a firm 'no' for seemingly no reason - every single time Davey had been thinking about doing something stupid, like firing his weapon just to scare the poor accidental hostages more. Or maybe killing the teller and just breaking their way into a vault instead of waiting.

Dutch was the one to recruit them, using bounty posters as a catalogue for potential new members. It was 1896: Mac had just turned 31, Davey 26 - and everyone except Dutch immediately hated them. It was obvious that Dutch wasn't looking for recruits, he was looking for replacements. John had run off and Arthur was bedridden with mourning having found Eliza and Isaac's graves. For Dutch to pick up two similarly aged, similarly talented gunslinging brothers felt like a punch to the gut: they were all replaceable.

But damnit, for outlaws, the Callanders were just too likeable for it to stick. When the awkwardness of having not interacted with anyone other than his brother for over 20 years was too much, Mac factory-defaulted to his polite Scottish Catholic upbringing. He was a brute, but always addressed the gang seniority as sir, or ma'am, and smacked his brother hard over the head reminding him to thank Pearson for the burnt, tasteless gruel.

Davey had the same appeal as the then even younger Sean Macguire: he was loud, he was energy, twitching to go and always the first to volunteer for a mission no matter how small the take was going to be. Unlike Sean, though, he had an off switch in the form of his brother. Davey was like a hunting dog with Mac holding the leash. But that energy was what the gang desperately needed that dark year, when half of them were considering taking off just so they could get a damned night's sleep with a colicky infant Jack around.

Davey loved an audience: being around a regular group of people was the best thing to happen to him. Javier learned English from Davey because Davey would constantly talk to him despite the fact Javier was lucky to pick up every third word. Not being the youngest anymore also inflated Davey's ego tenfold. Sean might have been 17-18, but the hero worship he had for Davey was obvious. They both had the gift of the gab and could talk to each other until they went hoarse, and Sean obviously picked up Davey's impulsive, reckless 'hit 'em hard and loud' mentality on a job.

On a job, it was like music. Mac was used to being the one making plans: he could pick bigger scores now that it wasn't just him and Davey. With a look Mac would send Davey to the back door, and when the sight of one lone gunman started to make people think they could fight back, Davey would burst in on queue to make them think twice. The VDLs that went with just learned where to slot themselves in like puzzle pieces coming together - and if the Callanders had made it to Horseshoe Overlook, they would've had enough money to make it Tahiti. The gang had never lived so comfortably before. The stew actually started to taste good.

Arthur's rage hearing about Mac's death was personal: Mac really was one of his besties in the gang. He might have hated working with him, because Mac wasn't the sort to take orders from anyone, but in camp, Mac was one of the few people he could talk to. They were a similar age, but what they really bonded over was that silent feeling of having the entire world on their shoulders. Arthur's entire adult life was dedicated to the gang, the same way Mac's entire life had been dedicated to keeping his brother safe. They could just sit quietly around the campfire and drink, until liquor loosened their lips enough to properly bond over how unfair their lives had been without ever actually complaining about the hand they'd been dealt.

Mac was the only member of the gang, outside of the OGs (Dutch, Hosea, John (and Abigail), Grimshaw and Tilly) that Arthur ever told about Isaac.