#the most important part of all of this is that i repeatedly told her that if she was uncomfortable with anything i say she can tell me and

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[bongospasm]

genuinely going insane . i need to be put down

[felassan]

David Gaider on Flemeth, under a cut for length:

"I have a type. I admit it. There are certain wells I can return to repeatedly and always find something new to explore. One of them is older female characters. Mike used to rib me about it. Consider Wynne. Meredith. Genevieve. And, of course, the biggie: Flemeth. Why are they a type? I... don't know, honestly. I guess I have a feeling that older men fade, they strive to regain their youth or establish a legacy and we've seen that story a thousand times, but older women? They become free to become something new. I guess I see so many possibilities in that. I had a conception of who Flemeth was, and why, right from the very start. Her creation went hand in hand with Morrigan, as a being whose thirst for retribution hundreds of years ago attracted an entity (slight confession: I didn't know Mythal specifically, at the time, "an elven god" was enough). I also knew where Morrigan was right and very wrong about her. Misconceptions of the truth are built into DA's foundation, and they were fundamental to this mother-daughter relationship I was building. Like many seeds I'd put in the world, however, I had no idea whether I'd ever get to explore it. Knowing that she was a character of possible future importance, if not a major player in DAO, I wasn't much surprised when she was one of the first cuts the art team made in terms of getting a unique appearance. Thus the "batty old woman" players met in DAO. Not as hard a cut as the Qunari, though."

"Going into DA2, I wanted both Morrigan and Flemeth, but we could only have one. So I picked Flemeth. This was the game where she really got to come into her own. I remember the art team coming and asking if it was OK if she got a new model, as it'd be a retcon of sorts. I didn't care. I wanted it. I honestly don't remember whether Kate Mulgrew was cast before or after Claudia. After, I think? All I recall is that Cab came into my office one day and asked if Kate might be a good fit. Asked me, the dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie who had stuck with Voyager even through the admittedly lean years? The squeal I made was un-manly. Cab took that as a "yes". 😅 I didn't get to talk to Kate until DA2, however. Schedules being what they were, we had a tight window to record Flemeth... so I had to write all her scenes before almost anything else in DA2 was written, before I even had a team! Ack! It was OK, though, for the most part. I knew where I wanted to take her, and a big part of it was going to explain her transition - to set her up for the future. So I whipped up a script in, like, two days and off we went. Kate was a marvel in the booth. She adored Flemeth and you could really tell. I didn't get to meet Kate in person, however, until DAI. This came pretty late in its development, compared to when we recorded her for DA2, and we flew down to Virginia (to accommodate her schedule - she was writing her memoir at the time, I think) for a single session. It was going to be *tight*."

"I was a mess. I was finally going to meet Captain Janeway... and yes yes, I know she's also more than that. But come ON. When we sat down, I figured I'd have to talk her through the character all over again. It'd been years since that one session at the start of DA2, right? And even more since DAO. But, no. Kate remembered Flemeth perfectly. I remember sitting there as she told me how much she loved the character, how rare it was to get one with so much texture and possibility. She called out my writing - my writing! - and waxed poetic about how she viewed Flemeth's arc. I... I was floored. 🫠 Then we began recording. One issue that quickly reared its head was how Caroline had to speed through the lines if we hoped to finish. Kate was a trooper, and most takes she'd get it in one (which is rare), but I was alarmed because we weren't giving Kate time to read the VO comments on each line. I brought it up, as there were some lines (so much sarcasm) that required nuance - Kate was getting them, oddly, but I was worried. "Oh, it's fine," Kate said. "I read the comments as we go." "How could you? We're going so fast!" "I'm a speed reader." Oh. OK, then. That certainly explained it. 😁 We got to the confrontation scene with Morrigan and she nailed it. Over and over. More than once, Caroline would make a call and, before I could even interject and say "no, Kate had it right, actually" Kate would explain exactly why she did it that way and why it worked for Flemeth. I was in love. She did the "I will see her avenged!" section all in one go. I got chills. Then we got to the final scene. You know the one. With Solas. It was this beautiful moment. She took it somewhere quiet and sad... and when she got to that last line, we all felt it: Flemeth was dead. Everyone was in tears. I suppose I could talk more about the process. How she started off aligned with Morrigan's original Delirium inspiration, but I didn't pull back her loopy way of talking as much (bet you wondered). I still don't know why it was so easy to slip into her voice, but I'm grateful I got the chance. ❤️"

[source thread]

[wheneverfeasible]

The Beast With Two Backs

wc: 2.7k || rating: M || cw: infidelity/cheating, implied alcohol abuse, minor sexual content || ships: Steve/OMC, Steve/Eddie, Robin/Vickie (minor/side) || tags: Modern AU, College AU, no Upside Down, angst with a happy ending || ao3

Steve remembered, as a child, his mother warning him of the beast with two backs. She’d been drunk on the expensive champagne she had bought for her and his father’s ten year anniversary dinner. He was supposed to be going over to Tommy’s for the night after his father got home from work, except he had called off, saying he had some important paperwork he had to do.

Even Steve could hear the shrill laughter on the other side of the phone that his father barely tried to shush.

His mom had gotten a little too drunk to drive him to the Hagans’ now, and too drunk to call them and tell them that, so Steve did instead. He promised Tommy he’d see him tomorrow, but that his mom wasn’t feeling good. Tommy had been annoyed, but it was whatever. He needed to take care of his mom first. He promised he’d see him tomorrow though.

His mother was halfway through the bottle when she bemoaned the beast, warning Steve never to fall prey to it, to never become the beast that ruined a poor girl’s life. To never trap someone in a life they didn’t want because he wouldn’t ’wrap it up’.

It wasn’t until he was a little bit older and discovered how long a pregnancy took that he began wondering about the fact that his tenTh birthday was only five months after what should have been his parents’ ten year anniversary dinner.

When he became sexually active in high school, he always made certain to use rubbers, or found his partner’s pleasure in other ways. Later, after his falling out with Tommy and his new friendship with Robin, things got even better when he realized he could like boys too. There was no risk of pregnancy with most boys. Entering college opened a whole new ballpark for him.

It was where he met his boyfriend. He and Robin were working their part time job, where he’d met her, and his future boyfriend had strode in, caught sight of him in those ridiculous blue shorts, and the rest was history he supposed. The guy was ripped jeans and band tees and everything his parents would hate. Steve possibly fell in love at first sight.

It had been fantastic, at first. His boyfriend would serenade him, would take him out to bars and dance with him in public, and would promise to always love Steve.

And then Steve’s boyfriend made a new friend who he spoke to all the time through text messages he wouldn’t let Steve see. Suddenly, his boyfriend wasn’t around as often. Suddenly, his boyfriend started missing dates, calling to tell him he had coursework he had to do. There was never laughter at the other, but Steve’s insides squirmed.

His boyfriend told him he was being delusional. Paranoid. That there wasn’t anything to worry about. Steve had met the friend who touched his boyfriend in the way that his boyfriend always shook off when Steve did it. Steve’s boyfriend never called Steve his boyfriend when his friend was around.

He stopped repeating Steve’s “I love you”s at the end of their phone calls and texts.

Steve wanted to surprise his boyfriend, so he stopped by his room to drag him to dinner and maybe a movie. It wasn’t an anniversary or anything, but he wanted to reaffirm their relationship.

Instead, he saw the beast his mother had once warned him about, composed of his boyfriend and the friend he’d repeatedly been told not to worry about.

Eddie’s eyes were the first one to meet him from his position on top of Dennis, his dark eyes widening at the sudden appearance of an audience when Steve had entered his boyfriend’s unlocked dorm room. Eddie froze for a brief moment before he flushed bright red at being caught riding dick and scrambled off.

Dennis propped himself up on his bed and glared across at Steve. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steven, don’t you ever knock?” his boyfriend hissed at him.

Steve stared without blinking, his chest feeling caved in. Dennis wasn’t even apologetic. Eddie was looking back and forth between them with lowered brows, confusion radiating from him, prompting him to start looking for his clothing. He had a hard time telling them apart from Dennis’s always scattered on the floor.

“Baby, c’mon, don’t go,” Dennis crooned, but it wasn’t towards Steve. No, he was propped up on his elbow on the bed, dick still wet and hard, holding out a hand towards Eddie.

Baby.

Dennis used to call Steve that too.

Eddie glanced nervously at Steve. “It looks like your friend needs to talk to you,” he hesitated, and that snapped Steve at least partly out of his silent staring.

“Boyfriend,” he corrected.

“What!” Eddie squawked while Dennis let fly an expletive.

“I’m his boyfriend. Or…I was, until just right now.”

Dennis swore again. “Steve, babe, don’t do this,” he said, causing Eddie to fling his head around to gape at Dennis. “Look, we can work this out,” he wheedled, sitting up finally to hold his wiggling fingers out towards Steve. “You could join us,” he added with a purr that used to send Steve’s toes curling.

Now it only curdled his stomach.

“He was your boyfriend this whole time?” Eddie hissed, and he looked so disgusted with Dennis that Steve couldn’t even find it in himself to hate the guy. Hell, even if he had known about Steve, he couldn’t really hate the guy. After all, it was Steve’s boyfriend doing the cheating, not Eddie.

Dennis just scoffed, rolling his eyes, obviously trying to salvage the situation. “He’s a baby gay. It was never going to be serious. Not like you and me, baby,” he coaxed, reaching out to grab Eddie by the hip.

Eddie’s hand solidly met Dennis’s cheek, making Steve jump. “Find someone else to buy your weed from,” Eddie growled, and then he was shoving on clothes that may or may not belong to him and crashing through the door, sending Steve an agonized, apologizing look.

Steve finally blinked at Dennis, who was clutching his cheek and swearing a mile a minute, finally understanding his mother and wishing he had expensive champagne right now too. “Goodbye, Dennis. We’re through.”

Steve closed the door on his ex-boyfriend, ignoring his calls for Steve to wait and come back.

Robin helped him through the breakup, blocking Dennis’s number from both their phones and helping Steve file the paperwork to switch dorm rooms. Neither of them wanted him to be where Dennis could easily find it after the first night when Dennis had pounded on the door to be let in.

He crashed in her dorm, eating their weight in the ice cream they more or less stole from work, and watched the Bridget Jones’s Diary trilogy while getting drunk off of shitty wine coolers. Robin had told him it was a rite of passage for having your heart broken. He only let himself cry after she fell asleep, however, muffling the sounds so he wouldn’t disturb her.

He was given his new dorm assignment, told he was in luck because another guy was looking for a new situation as well, and he moved in that next weekend. He should have known that life wouldn’t make things easy for him, however. Because his new roommate? The guy currently unboxing his items as he settled into the new dorm with him?

It was Eddie.

It was…awkward. Eddie had been beside himself, apologizing over and over again and saying he’d talk to the office while putting his things back into his boxes. He wouldn’t look Steve in the eye.

Steve thought it would be easier if he hated Eddie, but he was just as much a victim in this as he was. It turned out that he and Dennis had been dating for a few months after matching on Grindr, starting out as a hookup and a weed deal, but Dennis wasn’t wanting to put any labels to anything yet. He had assured Eddie that he was single though, that Steve was just a friend who had an unfortunate crush on him.

Eddie didn’t know that Steve and Dennis had been boyfriends for over a year now.

Eddie had also blocked Dennis’s number.

It would be easier to hate Eddie, probably easier not to see him again either, but he told Eddie it was fine and that it wasn’t like Eddie had anywhere else to go at the moment, so they uncomfortably settled in together for the time being.

And Eddie wasn’t terrible. A little messy, sure, and he played his music too loudly, would work himself into rants about conformity and toxic masculinity and anything else that caught his attention, but…it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

Strange as it was, he and Eddie developed a sort of friendship. Robin had been hesitant about it, but all too soon she had been dragged into it as well, something she never had with Steve and Dennis, who never really liked her. Eventually, they all forgot that Eddie was going to look for a new place to stay, and soon they had become a trio as if they’d been friends all along.

Eddie called them “The Three Muskequeers” with a roaring laugh while Robin pelted him with popcorn during one of their weekly movie nights.

Steve secretly loved that laugh.

The more time that Steve and Eddie (and Robin) spent time together, the more Steve was starting to realize that he might secretly love more than just Eddie’s laugh. Though, by the way Robin stared at him sometimes with worry, maybe it wasn’t all that secret.

Steve wasn’t delusional. Eddie still met guys on Grindr, making them take up the sock system for the doorknob, and that was fine. Eddie didn’t seriously date anymore, only doing hookups. Steve knew he wasn’t Eddie’s type anyways. Knew that Eddie wouldn’t ever look at him and see anything other than the pathetic, jilted lover. It was fine.

At least, it was fine, until they went to the club one night and got drunk. Until Robin left with wide eyes following a beautiful girl who had a dorky grin looking like she came straight from a John Hughes film, her many braceleted hand holding tightly to Robin’s. Until it was just him and Eddie and booze and pounding music and the fact that Steve hadn’t been touched by a man since Dennis.

Until Steve found himself with his back pressed against the door of a bathroom stall, Eddie on his knees with his mouth around him as he stared up with his gorgeous brown eyes.

Steve, stumbling with his hand in Eddie’s into their dorm room, knew what this was. Things might be awkward in the morning, but he knew they could laugh it off. It was just a night of passion, of letting off steam. Eddie didn’t need to know about his unfortunate crush on him.

Eddie didn’t need to know that Steve was more in love with him than he had ever been in love with Dennis. Or anyone else for that matter.

In the morning, he feigned sleep as he felt Eddie carefully extricate himself from Steve’s bed. He listened to Eddie carefully dress, carefully leave their dorm room, and told himself that he was fine. When Eddie eventually came back, he’d pretend like it never happened. He’d pretend he didn’t know how Eddie tasted on his tongue, or the sound Eddie made when he sank into him, or the way Eddie felt like home.

He sat up in bed, head in his hands, trying to convince himself everything would be okay. He sat like that for a while.

And then the door jiggled open and he jerked his head up to see Eddie walking back in with his hands full of a familiar bright pink box and a drink carrier, a greasy white bag clenched between his teeth, and his eyes lighting up when he saw Steve.

“Stevie!” he exclaimed, or tried to with his mouth full. He kicked the door shut with his foot and moved to set the box and drink carrier down on the shared desk, spitting out the white bag from his teeth and setting that on top to spin around to face Steve again.

Eddie grinned, cupping Steve’s face in his hands and bringing him in for a surprising kiss. “I was hoping you were still asleep. I got breakfast! Donuts and breakfast sandwiches and coffee from that place you really like,” he said, still grinning, when he finally pulled away. He wiggled his brows. “I got Buckley’s favorite too for whenever she stumbles her way home,” he teased.

Steve stared up at Eddie with wide eyes, unable to process. “What?”

Eddie’s grin grew smaller, slowly sliding from his face, the light in his eyes dampening. “Oh, uh…shit,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed his hair to pull over his face, but instead of looking happily embarrassed like he normally did when he made that move, he looked withdrawn, awkward. Sad.

“You don’t…” Eddie gulped. “You didn’t mean anything by it,” he said as though slowly realizing something that was, Steve knew, absolutely not true. “Fuck. Shit. Sorry, man,” Eddie said, turning away as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, hands clasping his shoulders. “I didn’t mean…uh…yeah. It’s fine. We’re still bros. It doesn’t have to mean anything. We can just forget it. Um. I’m gonna go…take a shower,” he finished in a mumble, moving swiftly to grab his shower caddy.

Steve felt his heart stutter in his chest. Hope blossomed warm in his chest, his belly, and before he knew it he was out of bed and grabbing Eddie by his arm before he could escape.

Eddie cringed away, ducking his head to hide his face in the curtain of his hair, and the smell of Steve’s favorite donut shop filled their small dorm. But even the best glazed donut would pale in comparison to the sweetness of Eddie’s lips when Steve pulled the other man back around, cupped his jaw, and showed Eddie just how much he didn’t want to forget last night.

Their breakfast sandwiches were cold by the time they got to them, their coffee too, but Steve didn’t care as he laid in bed with Eddie and licked the remnants of sugar and jelly from Eddie’s lips.

Later, when Robin stumbled in with a few new hickies and the pretty girl’s number in her phone, she didn’t even acknowledge that the two of them were still tangled up in Steve’s bed together—though thankfully showered and dressed—as she collapsed on to Eddie’s. It was only when she’d polished off one old fashioned and was reaching for another that she paused, took stock of the way they were wrapped on each other’s arms and holding hands, and let out an unholy shriek.

Her smile was radiant, however, her eyes bright, and though she told them point blank she wanted zero details, she also told them that she was happy for them. She teased them mercilessly, of course, at least until Steve teased right back when she was going to introduce the girl last night to them so they could become the Four Muskequeers.

Robin shrieked again, throwing a pillow at them, and Steve realized for the first time in a long time, he was utterly and truly happy.

Him and Eddie still had a lot to talk about, still had their insecurities to work through, but later Eddie had Steve watch as he scrubbed his Grindr account and then deleted his account, giving Steve the passcode to his phone as well. Steve of course did the same, and they tried to be as transparent as possible about who they were talking to without feeling attacked.

Eddie also loudly proclaimed how much he loved his boyfriend every chance he got, and now the sock on the door system was only used to keep Robin and Vickie from bursting into their dorm. Though, unfortunately for Robin, they sometimes forgot.

Years later, after they stood in front of their family and friends to declare themselves, when Steve stood from the table after the cake had been sliced and bellies were fed, Steve lifted his glass with a sly smile and in his speech thanked someone named Dennis, who unfortunately couldn’t make it though they had sent him an invitation, for introducing him to the love of his life.

Robin, Vickie, and Eddie all snorted with laughter, and when Eddie pulled him down for a grinning kiss, his lips tasted as sweet as ever.

~ ~ ~

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 13 Elf

A supernatural creature of folk tales, typically represented as a small, elusive figure in human form with pointed ears, magical powers, and a capricious nature.

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija @mspurpl3

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

If someone had told him a couple months ago that he would fall in love with the MOST unusual girl that had ever graced his workshop..He'd have told you to never speak such nonsense to him again, probably would have scoffed, told them they were insane, and dismissed it from memory bank forever. Him, a proud master blacksmith of the arts, with a girl like her?? HA! What nonsense...

Or was it?

Not to him right now it wasn't as she kissed him and held his hands and he found himself not fighting against it. What was wrong with him!?

Oh right. ..It started with her walking into his shop.

The sounds of metal clashing against metal rang out loud and clear in the air. The inside of the shop was hot enough to even send a dragon out to drink cold water. Sweat dripped down his body and his lungs heaved from the excessive force of the hammer that he brought up only to bring it back down repeatedly. Hammering the burning orange iron into submission. To be molded and crafted into a perfect halberd for a dwarf client of his. He would've continued to mind his own business if it hadn't been for the beautiful woman who walked in with a smile on her face.

He stopped mid swing hammer in the air as she walked through the opening of his shop and looked at you. Your eyes wondered around the shop and all his tools set up everywhere before looking at him and smiling.

"Good evening. I'm looking for an elvan man by the name of Hatoro Haganezuka?"

"You're looking at him." He grunted lowering his hammer and eyeing you. Noticing the small cloth you carried in your hands. "What do you want?"

"I heard you fixed blades?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I was hoping you could fix something for me." 

You should have been as beautiful as you were when you smiled and unraveled the cloth in your hands. Revealing a rather puny dagger that was not only rusted but broken in half. Obviously not cared for at all. He felt disgusted at the mistreatment of his and his disgusted face reflected that. Eyeing it before the beautiful maiden who held it up to him.

"What a disgrace. What do you intend for me to do about it?"

"It used to belong to my grandfather but he passed away. This is the only thing I have left of him. Could you please fix this for me?"

He still stared at her beautiful face before scoffing. "I craft actual important things. Weapons for warriors. Beautiful objects that are supposed to be used to defend, hunt, help survive life. Why should I waste my time on a simple dagger?!"

"Please. I'm willing to pay whatever price you want."

Dam her cute face. In the end he reluctantly accepted her request and she gratefully hugged him despite the sweat rolling down his body before leaving him with it.

He felt like he was going crazy wasting his time fixing the puny little thing.

It felt like a two part problem in his mind. On one hand it was as if he was betraying his loyalty to his duty and everything that it stood for by accepting such a measly thing to fix..for falling for such a girl. While on the other hand it was a betrayal of his own emotions for denying his affection for her in the first place. He grew weaker by the day, losing sleep over his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before people started to notice, dark circles appearing under his eyes and his usual scowl deepening as his mood worsened. No one dared to actually ask him what was the matter, but he could feel their concerned stares and worried glances. Even so, he held out, pushing thoughts of her away as he tried to go on with his life. Just ignore her, he told himself. He would feel better once he forgot about her. Just get this job done and you'll get over her!

 But no matter what she wouldn't leave his mind or him alone. Oh WHY did he have to be plagued his existence? Even AFTER you had returned after a month or two with various check ups to see the progress and then FINALLY getting it done with him shoving it into your awaiting hands.

You STILL plauged his mind.

How beautiful you smiled. How soft you were when you hugged him. How tight his chest was when you kissed his cheek in thanks. 

HE COULDN'T WORK IN THESE CONDITIONS!!

He once told her to leave him alone because she didn't need to be anywhere near him....It ended up with him breaking down in the middle of the day crying and all those sleepless nights catching up to him finally. His work performance was slipping, he was acting like a baby, and it was ALL her fault. She wouldn't listen and go away like some stalker. After that he had passed out from his yelling fit and woken up insidd due to exhaustion.....And to her crying and holding his hand. Ironic wasn't it.

And he made a noble effort to forget about that incident, but it was all for naught.

He reached his tipping point about a month into his rejection to the monster. He was exhausted, eyes sore and bloodshot, and his performance still wavering concerning all their neighbors. Lost in his thoughts while working. he heard a single word. His name. That made him stop in his tracks. His head snapping up in recognition, eyes widening. No! Not her! Not now! The last thing he wanted was the she demon to back him against the wall and talk her pretty little head off. He felt like he was suffocating. He barely slept for days. He couldn't take it- The voices were becoming so much his head was going to explode-

"Haganezuka? You don't look so good."

That was the last thing he heard before he passed out for a second time that month. She had carried him. CARRIED HIM!! HIM!! All the way back inside filled with worry. Don't ask him why she didn't  just leave him there. If the resident blacksmith was just found passed out against the ground it would've been less humiliating than a girl to carry him all the way to his bed where he remained when he woke up and numbly laid there as she went off chattering again. He didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly exploded at her letting everything out. Maybe it was his frustration? The stress and strain he was feeling from her relentless presence? Maybe the days of little to no sleep? His mind zoned out as he mindlessly yelled at her but he certainly wasn't expecting it to end up with her kissing him and him being compliant to her affections. Leaning into her warmth and all around easing the stress he was always. Good grief what did he say? At one point she pulled away and he attempted to kiss her again which ended embarrassingly thanks to his lesser height which ended up with himself missing her lips and pecking her jawline which sent her beautiful face into giggles and the soft hands cupping his already crying and red face rubbed away at the stressful tears.

"You shouldn't beat yourself over like a little crush. I would've been happy to know either way. Oh. Please don't cry."

He wasn't sure why he felt so assured or comforted right now, but for now he leaned into those soft hands holding him up with the pretty angelic face of his relief

[merrinla]

Lift the Shadow Curse. Cut content. Part I

It was supposed to be one post, but because of the audio limit, I had to split it into two. So this part will be mostly about the portal ritual and the next one will be about other details.

Some of the lines below are in the game, the rest are from the early access patch 8.

During the cycle of development, Halsin has gone through many changes. He was originally just another side npc in the camp, but the community adored him so much that he was promoted to a full companion. Previously his story was more related to the main plot and the Thorm family, but later it was retconned. In the full release Halsin's personal quest is to find and rescue his childhood friend, a fey boy, from the Shadowfell. This special child is the only one who can cure the land from the shadow curse. And according to some files, this quest was previously also different from what we see in the game.

Bones of Contention

Before starting the portal ritual, the player had to find three bones of contention. To do this, it was necessary to defeat three bosses - the Hospital boss, the Tollhouse boss and the Distillery boss.

As we know from the game, these are Malus Thorm, Gerringothe Thorm and Thisobald Thorm.

Ketheric's daughter, Isobel also took part in this quest. The player could give her the bones to research. Who else could help us with the secrets of the Thorm family better than one of them.

After that, you had to bring the bones to Halsin and he crushed them as it was necessary for the ritual.

In the release version this part was replaced with a quest Wake up Art Cullagh.

Thorm blood

There is a flag in the game with an interesting name that isn't used anywhere - "SCL_ShadowCurse_Knows_NeedsBloodOfThorm". Unfortunately, there is no detailed description. So I can only guess.

Most of the flags "SCL_ShadowCurse_..." are related to Halsin's quest. I doubt this one is an exception. If the Thorm bones were part of the portal ritual, then maybe the blood was too. And it's not necessary to kill someone for that. Well, depends on how much blood you need. If we needed a volunteer, then only Isobel comes to mind. According to another flag, the player could ask her about the blood. But again, there's no details.

Maybe the Thorm blood was needed to open the portal (reminds me of DMC3) or lift the curse. Maybe it was Ketheric's blood that was needed because he started it all. And he definitely wouldn't have shared it voluntarily, so it would have ended up in a boss fight. The same as it is in the game. Or something else.

The ritual

Unlike the release version, the player didn't defend the portal, but Halsin while he conducted the ritual. This prayer is longer and has different words. During the combat, his voice was louder and more intense.

The player could interfere with the portal

In the game Halsin repeatedly warns that only he should enter the portal and nobody else.

Now it's important that only I pass through the portal once it opens. The magic is fragile - any mistake, and our one chance will be lost forever.

If there's any interference with the portal, then our one chance is lost forever. And so am I.

Let's begin. Remember what I told you - we won't have a second chance here.

Let's begin. Whatever happens, do not attempt enter the portal, and do not let anything interfere with it.

Even if you want to enter the portal, it won’t work. The scene ends only after Halsin has used the portal himself.

But earlier the player could attempt to enter the portal before Halsin. And it would have collapsed it. Not to mention that this would make Halsin furious and after that he would leave the camp.

Halsin was returning from the Shadowfell through the Shar Temple

The description of one flag says that Halsin explains how to find him after he is entered the Shadowfell. Which means he was returning in a different way than in the game.

And according to some lines it was the Shar Temple.

Once I've entered, go to the Shar Temple and look for a sign of my spirit. I can't say for certain how it'll manifest. But you'll know it when you see it.

Hah. Once I've entered, you must seek the place where Shar is loved the most. Look for a temple dedicated to her. There will be little separating the realms of light and dark in such a place. Once you find it, look for a sign of my spirit. I can't say for certain how it will manifest, but you'll know it when you see it.

I don't know exactly how the player was supposed to find Halsin (Halsin didn't know that either). But it seems he must have seen you or something that he could see with your help. In the game, right before the ritual begins, Halsin says "You are the beacon that will guide me home." I guess we really are.

I see you! Hold on! The path home is becoming clear!

Nearly there! Just hold on a little longer!

And when did he finally succeed, there was no limit to his happiness.

It worked. Oakfather's mossy beard, it worked!

Better than alive, triumphant!

Oh, my friend. I think my embrace would break you in two, such is my gratitude. But as you can see, my hands are full... [with Thaniel]

After which, it seems he went with Thaniel not to the camp but to the Last Light Inn. Maybe because Isobel's magic protected this place from shadows.

But now, I can tend to him, and the recovery can begin. Find us at Last Light, and thank you. The sun will soon rise over these lands.

Promise

Another part of the portal ritual was the dagger Promise that Halsin gave to the player. And we could even ask him about this weapon.

I've heard the theory that the dagger could be a beacon for Halsin. But, alas, I couldn't find any more information other than a brief description.

A leafy pattern is carved into the dagger's blade. It glows faintly in the dark.

I wonder if this weapon has its own story as the glaive Sorrow.

The dagger is still in the game, but you can only add it to your inventory via the console.

-----

Well, this is too much for one side quest (3 bosses + Shar Temple), so I understand why they changed it. I don't think Halsin was a companion in this version yet. Otherwise, he would have joined the party only at the end of Act 2.

[justanotherflemethstan]

this is not a drill, this is a thread on the creation of Flemeth from David Gaider!! as kind of the self professed Flemeth stan blog around here, I had to reshare

(alt text and full text transcript of the images included)

Link to the original post

Full text from the images below the cut:

CHARACTERS - DAY THREE: Flemeth

I have a type. I admit it. There are certain wells I can return to repeatedly and always find something new to explore.

One of them is older female characters. Mike used to rib me about it. Consider Wynne. Meredith. Genevieve. And, of course, the biggie: Flemeth.

Why are they a type? I... don't know, honestly.

I guess I have a feeling that older men fade, they strive to regain their youth or establish a legacy and we've seen that story a thousand times, but older women? They become free to become something new. I guess I see so many possibilities in that.

I had a conception of who Flemeth was, and why, right from the very start. Her creation went hand in hand with Morrigan, as a being whose thirst for retribution hundreds of years ago attracted an entity (slight confession: I didn't know Mythal specifically, at the time, "an elven god" was enough).

I also knew where Morrigan was right and very wrong about her. Misconceptions of the truth are built into DA's foundation, and they were fundamental to this mother-daughter relationship I was building.

Like many seeds I'd put in the world, however, I had no idea whether I'd ever get to explore it.

Knowing that she was a character of possible future importance, if not a major player in DAO, I wasn't much surprised when she was one of the first cuts the art team made in terms of getting a unique appearance. Thus the "batty old woman" players met in DAO. Not as hard a cut as the Qunari, though.

Going into DA2, I wanted both Morrigan and Flemeth, but we could only have one. So I picked Flemeth. This was the game where she really got to come into her own.

I remember the art team coming and asking if it was OK if she got a new model, as it'd be a retcon of sorts. I didn't care. I wanted it.

I honestly don't remember whether Kate Mulgrew was cast before or after Claudia. After, I think? All I recall is that Cab came into my office one day and asked if Kate might be a good fit

The squeal I made was un-manly. Cab took that as a "yes". 😅

I didn't get to talk to Kate until DA2, however. Schedules being what they were, we had a tight window to record Flemeth... so I had to write all her scenes before almost anything else in DA2 was written, before I even had a team! Ack!

It was OK, though, for the most part. I knew where I wanted to take her, and a big part of it was going to explain her transition - to set her up for the future. So I whipped up a script in, like, two days and off we went. Kate was a marvel in the booth. She adored Flemeth and you could really tell.

I didn't get to meet Kate in person, however, until DAI. This came pretty late in its development, compared to when we recorded her for DA2, and we flew down to Virginia (to accommodate her schedule - she was writing her memoir at the time, I think) for a single session. It was going to be *tight*.

I was a mess. I was finally going to meet Captain Janeway... and yes yes, I know she's also more than that. But come ON.

When we sat down, I figured I'd have to talk her through the character all over again. It'd been years since that one session at the start of DA2, right? And even more since DAO.

But, no. Kate remembered Flemeth perfectly.

I remember sitting there as she told me how much she loved the character, how rare it was to get one with so much texture and possibility. She called out my writing - my writing! - and waxed poetic about how she viewed Flemeth's arc. I... I was floored. 🫠

Then we began recording. One issue that quickly reared its head was how Caroline had to speed through the lines if we hoped to finish. Kate was a trooper, and most takes she'd get it in one (which is rare), but I was alarmed because we weren't giving Kate time to read the VO comments on each line.

I brought it up, as there were some lines (so much sarcasm) that required nuance - Kate was getting them, oddly, but I was worried.

"Oh, it's fine," Kate said. "I read the comments as we go."

"How could you? We're going so fast!"

"I'm a speed reader."

Oh. OK, then. That certainly explained it. 😁

We got to the confrontation scene with Morrigan and she nailed it. Over and over. More than once, Caroline would make a call and, before I could even interject and say "no, Kate had it right, actually" Kate would explain exactly why she did it that way and why it worked for Flemeth. I was in love.

She did the "I will see her avenged!" section all in one go. I got chills. Then we got to the final scene.

You know the one. With Solas.

It was this beautiful moment. She took it somewhere quiet and sad... and when she got to that last line, we all felt it: Flemeth was dead. Everyone was in tears.

I suppose I could talk more about the process. How she started off aligned with Morrigan's original Delirium inspiration, but I didn't pull back her loopy way of talking as much (bet you wondered).

I still don't know why it was so easy to slip into her voice, but I'm grateful I got the chance. ❤️

[my-mt-heart]

Why Explicit Caryl Canon Matters

Daryl and Carol (Caryl) fans make up a large portion of the spinoff's audience, and this audience wholeheartedly believes that Daryl and Carol are each other's only choice. It's in the writing. It's also reinforced by cast, crew, and EPs. For example, Norman has repeatedly said “If Daryl falls in love, it's forever."

There's a misconception that Carylers are a bunch of hysterical saps – fans who only want their ship "fucking under the stars" and only care about Daryl because of Carol, but that’s not true. In reality, Caryl fans are the deepest, most intuitive thinkers in the TWD community. To them, story matters. While they recognize and adore all of the subtext, they understand that it's supposed to lead to something worth the 13-year wait. They're expecting that major sense of relief and joy from watching explicit, undeniable, canon.

Explicit canon respects Carol's and Daryl's character development – individually and together. They started out way behind everybody else in life, convinced they weren't worthy of love. Daryl thought he was better off alone and Carol thought she was just a burden, but then they showed each other their true potential. Carol told Daryl he was a "man of honor" and Daryl taught Carol to have hope for a better future. They've struggled and suffered and strived to be good enough for each other. So, where's the payoff?

I understand not all fans want the same things, and maybe there's pressure to “keep everyone happy." Maybe it feels like a lose-lose situation. But from a marketing perspective, Caryl fans are a very reliable source of revenue for the show, so keeping them happy secures a reliable audience for future seasons of the show. They'll show up with their wallets out and their enthusiasm turned all the way up for Norman's and Melissa's nuanced performances. They'll create more fanart and other content. They'll make the show trend on Twitter constantly. Fans already adore Norman and Melissa, but explicit canon will amplify it further whereas keeping things ambiguous will cause a significant decline in viewership.

Ambiguity is the reason that the "I love you" scene in the flagship's finale got mixed reactions. For the fans who also struggle with their self-image, it was important to see Daryl and Carol overcome their own insecurities and finally "take whatever happiness they could get." But instead, many saw Carol's lighthearted "I love you too" and Daryl's departure as if they were both forfeiting what they always wanted. Daryl was submitting to his solitary nature again while Carol assumed she still owed a debt to her community and Daryl would be happier without her anyway. Both of them deserved a happy ending, or at least a piece of happiness to launch them into the next part of their journey. As far as many fans were concerned, neither of them got that.

That's why a lot of fans had a hard time watching S1 of the spinoff or opted out of watching all together. There were so many moments that teased the "possibility" of Daryl getting together with a younger, blonder woman nun while hints of Caryl's relationship were buried under more subtext. Keeping Daryl's feelings ambiguous just for the "fun" of shipbaiting cheapens Caryl's one-of-a-kind relationship, falsely indicating that their iconic beats can be recycled with someone else and still evoke the same passionate response from fans.

Ambiguity also perpetuates ageism and gives non-Caryl fans the excuse to say hurtful things to or about Melissa. Whether or not she's online to see it makes no difference because it still degrades her and it damages other women's perceptions of beauty and worth. Explicit canon on the other hand raises both Melissa and Norman up as two powerhouse actors utilizing their unparalleled chemistry to celebrate mature romances. It brings Daryl’s defining character traits to the forefront – the nurturing traits and the epic ones. It positions Daryl and Carol as equals, and it helps drown out the harmful comments against Melissa. 

Hopes for season 2 of the spinoff are high. Confirmation of Carol's and Daryl's romantic relationship in a way that needs no interpretation and no explanation from anyone offscreen is a dealbreaker. I know in terms of explicit canon, post-production can make all the difference, so it's crucial someone in a position of power pushes for canon that fully and unapologetically lives up to the fans' expectations, does right by the characters, and respects what Melissa wants.

[thekinslayers]

Alicent Hightower : Sins and Reprieve

I have seen lots of interpretations on Alicent's actions in the last episode and the most popular ones are pretty disappointing. So I will try to breakdown her thought process in this post :

Alicent's first scene begins with her breaking down into tears over the pain and suffereing that Helaena's been through. Then she blames herself and says that she was being punished for her sins. This part is important and acts as a layer in all of her actions in this episode.

Throughout the episode we see Alicent clutching her sides and walking around, touching her neck repeatedly. One of this is when Aegon questions Criston's failure to protect his family. The guilt and culpability she feels about B&C is suffocating her inside. She leaves all the decisions to Otto, and goes through with them trying to do her duty because she doesn't think she has any right to fix this on her own.

In the scene with Criston, she asks "have you (Criston) told anyone?" and we know that Alicent herself tried to tell her father and then Helaena. I believe that when Alicent tells him that he is "one who seeks absolution", it is both an understanding of their situation and also an admission of her own desire for absolution. Then Criston says what she's afraid to hear : there is no absolution for this, which is why I believe she tried to drown herself, as self punishment.

Later she once again tries to confess to Otto who doesn't want to hear about it. Then she goes to Aegon and she couldn't offer him what she doesn't have. She feels his pain, it's written all over her face. But she never knew how to console him, there's also the added layer of blaming herself for his suffering and she walks away.

I know many are tired of Alicole scenes, but this one is actually important. She goes to her room and Cristion was already there. She is an emotional mess built up with the inability to help her own kids, guilt over her sins and she takes all of that out on him. He accepts it because he feels that he deserved it. But their dynamic shifts. We see Criston taking control for the first time. They give into the toxic mess because neither could find the absolution they wanted and this is their only coping mechanism. The whole episode we see all the family coping through grief in their own way and this is Alicent's way, it's a mix of both relief and punishment for her.

Alicent is such a layered and interesting character in my opinion. Even when they give her almost nothing, there is still so much to unpack, all thanks to Olivia Cooke just devouring with all the micro expressions in every scene. This took longer than I intended. if you reach this far, thank you for reading! <3

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 21 - Secrets Revealed (alt prompt)

title: movies

fandom: empires smp

part of esh au :)

cw: discussion of past suicide attempts

~

Maybe Scott shouldn't have chosen Heathers.

But somehow, in his long life of being queer, Jimmy hadn't ever seen it.

"You're literally bisexual and you haven't seen it?" Scott had asked, astonished. At Jimmy's nod, he added, "It's the most bi movie ever. And I could sing the musical all day, too, but musicals based on movies are always better than the movies based on musicals—"

"What's so important about it?" Jimmy had interjected, one brow raised, and Scott couldn't help but feel a flurry of pride at how much Jimmy had opened up over the past months.

"You'll just have to watch it and see," Scott told him, so here they are, three days later, Scott on his end of the sofa and Jimmy on the other, a bowl of popcorn (that Jimmy rarely takes from) between them.

It's not a date, Scott reminds himself repeatedly. It's just a movie night between him and his ward. No, a movie night between him and his friend. Jimmy holds no romantic feelings for him. And he doesn't have any for Jimmy.

Lies.

But they're watching, volume lower than what Scott would normally watch a movie with (loud noises make Jimmy jump, and subtitles are readily available), and Jimmy seems to be enjoying it. He lets out a little laugh at all the right places, and rolls his eyes at the outdated references, and loosens up a bit as the movie goes on.

Until the one scene.

The part that Scott didn't even think about, more worried about the other dark tones of the movie.

Where Veronica fakes her own suicide.

Before Scott even registers that he got up, Jimmy is out of the room, in the kitchen, turning on the lights and starting the sink running.

Scott pauses the movie, something sinking in his stomach. "Jimmy?" he calls tentatively. "Are you all right?"

No response.

What was that about Jimmy being his ward?

It's getting easier and easier to forget that Jimmy isn't just his roommate, but someone he is charged by the state to take care of.

Scott uncurls his legs from the couch and gets up to head into the kitchen, letting his feet fall harder than normal to let Jimmy know that he's coming.

Jimmy's standing over the sink, scrubbing hard at a bowl, head down. After a quick, splashing rinse, he sets it in the dish drainer and reaches for a plate.

"Not that I mind that you're doing dishes," Scott says drily, "but why? What happened?"

Jimmy doesn't say anything, his scrubbing motions becoming jerkier.

"Was it the movie?" Scott tries. "I honestly didn't think—"

"Can you leave?" Jimmy asks suddenly, before cringing. "No, sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry."

The panicked apologies send Scott into caretaker mode, whether he likes it or not. "Are you having a flashback? It's okay, you're not there—"

"No, I'm—Scott, I'm fine," Jimmy insists, hunching further over the sink. "Please—please don't worry. You can—you can go finish the movie, okay? I'll just wash up here and go to bed early."

Scott almost agrees. He doesn't want to make Jimmy upset. He wants everything to be right for him.

And then he remembers that he isn't just Jimmy's friend. He's his caretaker, and he has to make sure that Jimmy is safe and mentally well.

"Okay," he says carefully. "But I'm scheduling you a therapy appointment for tomorrow."

"What? No, I'm already seeing Nora on Thursday—"

"The trigger was bad enough that you're having to clean to distract yourself," Scott points out. "I know what it looks like when you're trying to fight a flashback, Jimmy. If you really want me to leave, I will, as long as you go to therapy tomorrow. "

Jimmy doesn't answer for a long time, washing another bowl with even more aggressive scrubbing. He rinses it, sets it aside, and turns off the sink, squeezing out the dishrag.

"I tried to kill myself," he says bluntly, turning around and leaning on the counter. "While I was . . . there. I was gonna hang myself on my own leash, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I—" Scott feels himself blanch, as hard as he tries to keep a straight face.

"And I tried to kill myself a bunch of times after you got me out, just so you know. If it wasn't for people messing around, I would've succeeded. Does that make you happy?"

"Jimmy—"

"Because it sure didn't make the crazy doctors happy!" Jimmy's crying, now, just a little bit, eyes wet and red, even as he laughs. "I have to be on drugs to be normal! Just because I was a stupid, suicidal pet!"

Jimmy isn't looking at him anymore. His eyes are fixed on a spot slightly to the left of Scott, as if looking him in the eyes will make all the precarious emotions spill over in a tidal wave.

"It was—what do you call it, premeditated?" Jimmy says. "I decided—when I woke up—I was gonna twist my leash around the doorknob of my cell and the hook, and I was gonna hang myself. But they took away the leash—and they strapped me to the hospital bed so I couldn't get any scalpels—and they drugged me up real bad—"

"Jimmy—"

"What kind of person needs drugs to not kill themself—?"

"Me," Scott says loudly, and Jimmy cuts off mid-sentence, eyes focusing on his face.

"What?"

Scott leans against the wall, crosses his arms. "Me," he says again. "I'm on antidepressants, too. When I was eighteen, I . . . made an attempt on my own life. Aeor saved me. I've been on medication and going to therapy ever since."

"I'm sorry," Jimmy mumbles after a pause, the frenetic energy seeming to drain out of him with the two words.

"It's okay," Scott says, and he feels like he's about to cry, like those few sentences have rubbed his soul raw, but he's going to stay strong for Jimmy. "It was a while ago, I don't mind talking about it. But I have depression, due to some . . . stuff, and I didn't see a future that I wanted to be a part of. So, I'm sorry that you went through that, Jimmy. But I don't want you to think that needing medication means you're somehow less of a person."

"Sorry," Jimmy says again. "I—I didn't know."

Scott shrugs. "You didn't. It's not really something that comes up naturally in conversation, you know. But medication isn't a bad thing, okay? If it helps you to survive . . . well, that's good."

Jimmy chews on his lip, turns his gaze to the tiled kitchen floor. "I'm just . . . I'm tired of being messed up in the head."

There's not really a cure for that, though.

As infuriating as it is, mental illness isn't like a cut to be stitched up and bandaged. It isn't a pulled muscle that can be healed with an ice pack and a little rest. Mental illness is a cancerous tumor writhing inside the brain, and the excising is painful and exhausting and almost certainly doesn't get all of it out.

"I know it's hard," says Scott. "I don't know how hard, but I know it is. And you've still made an incredible amount of progress."

Jimmy shrugs. "Maybe. I . . . I wish I didn't have to."

Scott doesn't know what to say.

So he just offers a sympathetic smile and waits.

It's cruel. It's cruel that Jimmy was ever pushed to such lengths, that he ever felt so hopeless.

Scott knows it's cruel.

He knows that it hurts to look back, to remember oneself in such a dark place, swallowed up in the pain.

At least he has a few years' difference. Jimmy's still at the place Scott was when he was nineteen.

What would Aeor do when nineteen-year-old Scott would lash out, angry and tired?

The answer comes quicker than Scott expects.

Aeor would send him to bed.

"Well, I'm ready to go to sleep," Scott says, not quite having to fake a yawn. “We can take care of these dishes tomorrow, yeah? Let’s take the rest of the evening off.”

“But—”

“Nah, leave ‘em.”

“The movie?”

Scott shrugs. “I’ve seen it before,” he says nonchalantly. “And we can watch something else next time. Maybe Lord of the Rings.”

Jimmy makes a face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like them.”

“I—they’re just so long,” Jimmy protests. “I don’t have time for a three hour movie.”

“That’s not the important part, what matters is that they’re a classic.”

“They’re boring.” “Clearly, you haven’t been watching them right.”

“I’ll lock myself in my room again. Don’t think I won’t.”

“You would never.”

“I would! And I will!”

[five-rivers]

Promises, Promises

“At its most basic,” said Clockwork, pouring a cup of tea, “a frailty is a psychic injury a ghost deals themself, repeatedly, until it becomes an incontrovertible, irreversible, indelible portion of their being.  Not always purposefully, mind you, but it is still self-inflicted.  Tea?”

“No, thank you,” said Jazz, leaving her hands folded in her lap.  

“Very well.”  He set the tea down on the coffee table and started pouring a second cup.  “During the incident with his future self, Daniel promised that he would not become that person, would not become a killer.  But, as you may imagine, a promise by itself is flimsy, breakable.  He needed it to mean something, to be unbreakable.  But why should one promise be unbreakable when no others were?”

“I suppose it couldn’t be,” said Jazz, voice clipped.  

“Precisely.  For this vitally important promise to mean something, all his promises must be similarly weighty.”  He sipped his tea.  “It is a very common frailty, overall.  The general category it is traditionally placed in is Stygian, after the river, which also includes inhibitions against lying, dishonesty, and dishonor, but there are other name schemes and other methods of classification.”

“And this is relevant because…?”

“Because, you see, Daniel has made a promise.  Are you sure you wouldn’t like any tea?”

Jazz smiled thinly.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t trust you at all.  What promise did he make?”

Clockwork smiled slowly, fondly.  “It is rather sweet, actually.  But you know how he is.”

Jazz clenched her hands, the fabric of her slacks crumpling in her grip.  “What.  Happened.”

“You do understand this will largely be speculation on my part?  I may know what has, will, and could happen, but I have no ability with reading minds, least of all your brother’s.”

“Yes.”

Clockwork nodded.  “Daniel is, perhaps surprisingly, careful with his frailty.  When he must make a promise, he qualifies it.  He says, I will try, or, for today, or, even, if disaster does not strike.  In his own idiom, of course, but the point stands.  However, he broke this pattern earlier this week.”

“I made him promise me that he’d start sleeping a healthy amount,” said Jazz, briefly closing her eyes.  “I told him not to say he’d try, to say he’d do it.  But that shouldn’t have caused all this.”  She spread her hands angrily, her little finger almost catching on the lid of the teapot.

“No, by itself it wouldn’t.  But that is also not quite what you said,” said Clockwork, “although I cannot fault you for misremembering your exact words.  He did manage to put a time limit on the promise, although it was a much more distant one that he usually uses.  He appended his promise to attain a healthy amount of sleep with this month.”  Clockwork shrugged.  “But you are not the only one who can compel unwise promises from him.”

Jazz’s eyes narrowed.  “Who?”

“Sam and Tucker,” said Clockwork, “although they are aware of their role in this as much as you were aware of yours when you first stood on my doorstep.  In an attempt to satisfy his promise to you, Daniel took to sleeping in unconventional locations.  Under the bleachers at school, park benches, trees, bushes, rooftops, alleyways…  After all, ghost attacks didn’t stop attacking just because he promised you he would get more rest.”

On the couch, Jazz squirmed just a little as Clockwork paused, sipping his tea.

“His friends were naturally alarmed.  Upon retrieving him from a tall tree for the second time, they made him promise to stop sleeping in unsafe places.  The promise was extracted with the best of intentions, but I believe you can see why he never would have made it if he hadn’t just been woken up.”

Jazz opened her mouth to deny that statement, then closed it.  “He doesn’t feel safe at home, does he?  He doesn’t feel safe in Amity Park.”

“As I said, I cannot read minds.”  Clockwork gestured with his cup.  “But considering the circumstances that brought you here, I would reach that conclusion as well.”

“And then there was whatever happened in the Far Frozen.”

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “Daniel asked Chief Frostbite what ghost sleeping schedules were like.  Chief Frostbite, naturally, told Daniel that for ghosts of comparable power, when they feel the need to sleep, they sleep for months.  As you can imagine, that only exacerbated the problem.”

“What do I–  How can I fix this?  Can I fix this?  Or is the only way out to wait for the end of the month and hope he’s still–”  She cut herself off.

Clockwork hummed.  “Perhaps.  On the other hand… It is possible,” he said, “that you or his friends could release him from the promises he made to you.  It is a common feature of Stygian frailties, though not a universal one, and not one that has been tested on Daniel.  You would, however, have to find him first.”

“And where is he?”

“That,” said Clockwork, “I cannot tell you.”

"Excuse me?"

"I am already bending the rules by giving you information you may have put together on your own from information you have already gathered.  I have done what I can do.  Further action on my part would be… unwise.”

Jazz pursed her lips.  “Fine.”  She stood up, hauling her bazooka back up over her shoulder.  “Thank you for…”  She waved in Clockwork’s general direction.  “This.  But if you aren’t going to tell me where he is, I need to go.”

She made a quarter-turn away from him and raised the bazooka, engaging the lever that would allow it to make portals back to the human world.  She fired, a beam of green light splashing to a stop on an invisible wall and a scintillating portal spun itself into being.  Jazz stalked forward, her speed just a few steps below running.

“Jasmine.”

“What?”

“Are you entirely sure you will not take some tea?  You have a long journey ahead of you.”

Jazz’s face scrunched, the lines of it thrown into stark contrast by the glowing portal behind her.

“No.”  She stepped through, leaving Clockwork behind.  The portal rippled and flared, then vanished.

“Well,” he said.  “I tried.”  He finished the rest of his tea and put the cup down, folding his hands in front of him.  After a few seconds, he looked down and adjusted one of his wrist watches.  “Any time, now.”

The door of the clock tower creaked open, a shaking figure in the doorway casting a long shadow.

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “Would you like some tea?”

“I wh– What?”  Danny’s teeth - fangs, really - flashed white in the dimness of the clock tower.

“Would you like some tea?  It should be cool enough now for you to enjoy.”

Danny, still shaking and visibly nodding off between steps, made his way to Clockwork’s couch and sat down, his weight on it so feather-light that he didn’t even bend the cushions.

“I made it,” he said.

“You did,” said Clockwork.  He stooped to pick up the still-full teacup and the corresponding saucer and pressed them into Danny’s hands.  

“Wh-what?”

“Tea.  My own blend.  It should help you sleep.  Which you do need to do eventually.  It has been days, Daniel.”

“Sleep,” said Danny.  “Safe?”

“It is safe,” assured Clockwork.  

Danny nodded, eyes slipping closed again, and raised the cup to his lips.  He drank it all at once, then immediately slumped to one side.  Clockwork caught the cup and saucer before they could hit the ground and sighed heavily.  

“Yes,” said Clockwork, patting Danny’s cheek.  “You are quite safe here.  I promise.”

[room-surprise]

Dungeon Meshi Anime Review, Season 2, Episode 19 review

Izutsumi arrives! And Marcille has a nightmare.

This is an interesting episode but I know my spouse and I had desperately hoped that they would re-organize things somehow. Marcille's plot in this feels painfully tacked on and unrelated to Izutsumi's introduction, and the concept of the nightmare is so good, it could have easily been expanded to be an entire episode on its own. I wish they'd done that. They could have paired Izu's intro with the ice golem story to have one all-Izutsumi episode and then one all-Marcille episode... alas.

Those are changes I would have LIKED to see, but here's some changes I didn't like:

(MAJOR MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!!!)

Trigger removed Laios' mother's only speaking line in the manga. It would have taken SO LITTLE to have someone read this single sentence, and removing it, in my opinion, has a negative impact on the story as a whole.

It SOUNDS like a generic thing when she asks Laios "When will you give us grandchildren?" But this is actually really important. Laios is afraid of being forced to make a family and participate in society. This is unusual because he's a man, most men in a historic time period of this don't really care about such things, but Laios is so afraid of it, it's a recurring nightmare!

This is also why he acted so weird seeing a loving father/baby scene in the magic paintings chapter. He hated seeing a father talk about how much they love their baby.

Laios is named after a story about murdering your children before they can hurt you. Like an Oedipus Complex supposedly means that a son wants to have sex with his mother, a Laios Complex means a man wants to kill his sons. Kui did not pick this name and then have Laios repeatedly be uncomfortable with children, marriage and fatherhood for no reason.

Obviously Trigger didn't make any of these connections and so they didn't think it was necessary for Laios' mom to speak this line out loud, but I vehemently disagree.

This is similar to my beef with them removing Yarn Floke's only dialog in the story and removing her from the scene with the Island Governor. That moment told us that Mr. and Mrs. Floke were equal partners, and now anime watchers assume she's just his wife who doesn't do anything. That sucks.

The addition of paintings of Marcille's father in the nightmare. Woof. I really don't care for this, if they wanted to do it i would have preferred it if they'd obscured the paintings somehow so it wasn't obvious that Marcille's father wasn't an elf.

I think this makes the later reveal of her half-elf status WAY less surprising.

Also, in the manga, the complete silence around her father created a strong subtext that Marcille's mother was her only parent that mattered. They could still accomplish this but I think it won't be as shocking.

People reading the manga probably thought "her dad was an elf and he died young and that traumatized her" (this is what Laios assumes I'm sure)

People watching the anime will think "her dad was a tall-man and his natural death of old age is what traumatized her" which is true, but they aren't supposed to actually know that yet...

Overall the episode was good aside from these issues. I liked that the nightmare sequence was in black and white, and the transition to color at the end was spectacular and very impactful... But part of me wishes they had done something else to differentiate the nightmare state from the normal animation. The black and white was good, but almost too subtle because the DM palette is already so desaturated.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Imho people put too much in the houses. Like they're basically just social cliques, and the sorting hat was definitely taking into account what would or wouldn't destroy their social lives.

I mean, people put as much into houses as the characters seem to put into houses.

For the characters houses are meaningful, they are social cliques and I'm sure the Sorting Hat pays attention to the social situation the student would be in, but there is an element to these traits, to the values a student has when sorted. But more importantly, wizards think about them as so much more. They are a sign of status, legacy, and worth. Like, little 11-year-old Draco says he'd just leave if he was sorted into Hufflepuff because, in his mind, it would mean he isn't worthy of the other "better" houses.

And Draco isn't the only one. Hagrid calls all of Slytherin Evil, practically all the professors play favorites, Ron is worried over not being in Gryffindor because all his family is in Gryffindor, Neville worries about being in Gryffindor because he doesn't think he is worthy of the house reputation because of what his grandmother told him, and students repeatedly fall into the trap of "Wait, why aren't you at X house?" When someone's behavior deviates slightly from the stereotype of their own house. Like, Terry Boot, when told Hermione cast a NEWT Gemino charm, asks her: "How come you aren't in Ravenclaw?" Because they're supposed to be the smart guys.

Basically, the Wizarding World treats houses like a Big Deal. Even adults who graduated decades ago still have pride in their own house. Actually, there are real-world examples of things like that.

I mean, school houses are a British commonwealth thing that exists in public boarding schools. In these irl houses, students take pride in their house, wear their house colors, and are incredibly competitive with other houses. There are schools that apparently have family houses, an in, if a student's sibling/child arrives at the school, they'd go to the same house as their family member.

(I got this from reading online, as I never encountered a school like this irl, but the internet tells me they exist)

But if we talk about something I'm more familiar with, I taught in a sorta summer course thing for teenagers, and we divided the students there into classes since there were over a hundred of them. There wasn't really a difference between the classes, but each class had its name, symbol, and colors (and different staff members), and the students' tribal instincts kicked in. They got super competitive with the other classes and had their closest friends basically exclusively within their own class. We often caught them making fun of other students for being in another class (something that meant literally nothing). So the staff put a lot of effort into creating activities for the entire group without class separation to try and fight that.

Humans are tribal creatures, we have a built-in mechanism that tells us to come together in groups and think our group is the best. A house system just happens to kick that instinct into gear, but it's always there.

So, it's not that weird that that's how Hogwarts houses are treated in universe, and the fandom gives them the same importance characters in universe seem to give them. Because to them they are that important.

(Of course, not all characters have the exact same opinion about the house system. There are adults in the Wizarding World that don't actually care, but then there are many who do)

Now, houses aren't necessarily a bad thing, humans have this tribal instinct for a reason. We need to feel like we're part of a community, a sense of belonging is something most people seek be it subconsciously or consciously. And there is joy in being part of something that has a long history and that you can be proud of. The problem is when these groups start to define people more than their own person as an individual does. And, shockingly, I don't think the Wizarding World has that problem on a cultural level.

Like Scabior says:

“So you aren’t wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?” “Slytherin,” said Harry automatically. “Funny ’ow they all think we want to ’ear that.” leered Scabior out of the shadows.

(DH, 386)

Houses aren't everything. Even a Slytherin who knows where the common room is but has a suspicious name and says Voldemort's name is cause for suspicion. Being a proven Slytherin doesn't necessarily save you because they don't expect all Slytherins to back them. Because there are those who don't and they seem very aware of it. We also don't really see jobs that are reserved for certain houses.

I think some wizards do generalize more based on houses, but I think the majority of their adult population is aware that people are individuals outside of their houses.

Basically, I think the wizarding world's treatment of houses could definitely be way way better, it isn't as bad as it could be (which isn't a high bar since I expect the worst from the Wizarding World).

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 26

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Flashback smut AN: Sorry for being so late Dearhearts, Thanks for waiting. In exchange-- Oh! Opps, sorry- I tripped there. Did I? Oh no, I spilled my daddy issues all over the page. Oh dear… Hope I'm still allowed in the blanket fort... Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

After performing the tuck in ritual, Mia didn’t expect to see Sally again until morning. She was typically a good sleeper and not prone to nightmares so it wasn’t unheard of at all for her to be down easy and stay down for the night. Mia had gotten very lucky with that child, she knew.

Instead, the little girl scared both her and Tom nearly out of their skins not even an hour after seemingly being sound asleep, lulled to dreamland by the sound of Tom’s voice reading her a new book. She appeared in the hallway while they were sitting down for a movie, standing still, quiet and clearly not alright in a way that Mia wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone who wasn’t a parent if asked. 

It was just a look that kids got. A look that said the world was shattered. A look that screamed of a shattered heart in the way only a child’s heart could shatter. It was a look that shattered a parent’s heart before a single word was spoken. 

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked, seeing the tears in Sally’s eyes though she knew exactly what was wrong. 

Part of Mia had been waiting for this moment all evening, dreading it, knowing it was a matter of time. All the distractions were gone now. Sally realized what was missing from her perfect day and that crushed her. It was a pain Mia knew Sally was growing used to. It was a pain that Mia would do anything to take away from her. 

“Why didn’t Daddy come?” 

Tom froze by the microwave, bag of popcorn in his hand after turning to them. His heart broke for the little girl. This was a pain he didn’t know if he could ever take away from her. He wasn’t even sure if it ever going to be his place to try. The muscle in his jaw twitched with how tightly he clenched his teeth, biting off words and snarls that felt more fitting for his most recent character than himself. 

“I’m sure something important came up.” Mia carefully said, “I know he wanted to be here.”

“Something more important than me?” In the kitchen the bag of un-popped popcorn fell from Tom’s hand but no one, not even him, seemed to notice the sound of it slapping the floor. 

“Nothing’s more important than you.” Mia wrapped her arms around Sally and picked her up. 

“Then why didn’t he come?” 

“I don’t know, honey.” 

The little girl was clinging to her mother, crying into her damp hair. Mia’s heart broke for her daughter. Nothing she could say or do would change the fact that once again, Sally came in last place to her father. Mia looked helplessly to Tom, tears gathered in her own eyes. 

This is the pain of being a parent, her eyes told him. This was what trying to make their drunken impulsive marriage work came with. Was he really up for this? Was he ready for this? Could she trust him not to be another cause of this? Could she risk him being just another scar on the heart of a little girl through the rest of her life?

Tom stepped on the bag of popcorn as he came around the counter. He didn’t notice or care. The thought to busting the bag open didn’t even cross his mind. If it had burst underfoot, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Why dosen’t he love me?” Sally sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. This was a pain well known to the little girl, he could see that in both their faces.

“I’m sure he loves you.” Mia whispered, rocking her newly five year old daughter as if she was still just her littlest girl and in that moment, she was.

Tom didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Sally was going through. Seeing it was enough to stab him in the heart repeatedly. Emotions warred within him that he couldn’t justify or explain. 

He couldn’t understand how a father would choose to do this to his daughter. Ray had said he would come and though Tom was not eager to meet the man, this wasn’t what he had expected to happen. Any shred of respect Tom had reserved for the father of his step daughter was ripped to shreds. 

How dare the man hurt Sally like this. How dare Ray hurt his daughter. 

How dare he hurt Tom’s daughter. 

His. 

Sally was his now. 

It wasn’t the first time she had been hurt by her father in such a way. It was clear in the defeated way she cried and her pleading questions that this wasn’t new. This was a repeated pain, a wound that was picked at every missed holiday and birthday. 

Without any way to fix things for them, Tom rested his hand on the small back to let her know he was there for her. It was all he could think to do, voicing the thoughts in his head wouldn’t help anyone and would likely be overstepping so he locked them within his heart. 

Mia’s eyes caught his and his brow wrinkled with concern. Mia’s eyes turned toward the ceiling as she fought back her own tears, breaking his heart for the two girls who had become central to his life. 

While Mia never wanted to see Ray again, she would have given anything for him to have been there for his daughter’s birthday. Sally mattered. Sally was important. Sally should have been his world, just like she was hers.

No matter how many times Mia was left sweeping up the pieces of her daughter’s shattered heart, Ray just didn’t seem to care. Mia was left helpless, no way to protect her daughter from the heartbreak without standing in the way of the relationship. 

Sally’s exhausted, red rimmed eyes peeked out from Mia’s shoulder after a while, her sobs died down into soft whimpers. They had stood there, Tom’s hand rubbing the little girl’s back while Mia rocked her. Her arms were tired and she couldn’t really feel one of her hands from below the wrist due to how she had locked them under Sally’s bottom to support her weight. Snot was smeared on Mia’s chest but she didn’t care. 

“I wish Tommy was my daddy,” Sally weakly whispered. 

The words caused Mia to clench her eyes shut. It hurt too much. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and traced a wet path down her cheek. 

“I know,” She whispered back, voice wavering as Sally spoke the wish made in her little heart as she blew out her birthday candles. The same fleeting wish Mia had, standing poolside. 

“Tommy wouldn’t…” Whatever she was going to say Tom wouldn’t do was lost to them. Her words trailed off as exhaustion, mental, physical and emotional all overtook her. 

“She’s asleep,” Tom whispered. 

Hs own voice was thick with emotions he could hardly put words to but clearly spoken by the watery look Mia saw in his eyes. This little girl was someone he didn’t even know existed this time last month and yet he wanted nothing more than to swear attendance to every birthday party, holiday and event if it would mean she never had to feel that way again.

But it wouldn’t do any good. He wasn’t her father. While they all may wish in the deepest parts of their hearts that he could simply swoop in and replace him, Tom knew it wasn’t that simple. No matter what happened, Sally would likely long for her father for the rest of her life. 

“Do you want me to take her?” Tom whispered, not trusting his voice for anything more. 

“No,” Mia also whispered, holding her heart tighter in her arms. “Can you get the door?” 

~~~~~<3

Mia closed the door to Sally’s room behind her and leaned against it for a moment. There was no way she could calm the raging sea of emotions coursing through her. 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to block Ray. She wanted to call him and demand answers. She wanted to demand Tom never leave. She wanted to demand he get it over with and leave. She wanted to kiss him. 

“Are you alright?” Tom had been waiting in the hallway as she set Sally in her bed and covered her back up. 

“No,” Rubbing her hands down her face she tried to gather her thoughts. “But I will be.” 

“What can I do?” Tom couldn’t help how helpless he felt. He didn’t care what it was he had to do, he wanted to fix this for her. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he would do it for her. 

“Leave?” Mia said unsure, not really thinking.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Just go. Get it over with.” Tears welled in Mia’s eyes. She couldn’t look at him as she walked past him. 

He grabbed her wrist as she passed, not allowing her to escape the conversation she had unintentionally started. Her words had struck him like a knife in the chest. It was a pain he could physically feel. 

 Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he proved himself yet? What more did she need from him to see? What would it take for her to trust him?

“No,” He said it harsher than he intended, then said it again softer. “Can’t you see?” 

“See what?” Mia weakly tugged at her trapped wrist, not having the energy to fight, not having the energy to try. 

“That I am not going anywhere. That I care. That I- That no matter what happens I will be there for her. I am not going to just be another man to walk out of her life, to throw her away, to throw either of you away.” There was so much more he wanted to say but his throat grew tight before he could get the words out. 

“Tom, just-” She rose her arm, trying to yank her wrist free with more effort this time. 

He kissed her then, holding her wrist firmly in the air. He didn’t know what was going to happen, he hadn’t thought it through. It was a impulsive action, lips on hers to silence the hurtful way she pushed him away again and again. 

He couldn’t put voice to it. There were no words for it just yet, at least none he could put together, that he was brave enough to put together. This way, maybe she would see it. Maybe she would feel all the things crashing inside him. 

At first, she was stiff as a board. He could feel the tension in her body through his hand around her wrist. But after a heartbeat, he felt her relax. 

“Please,” He pleaded, pulling a hair’s breath away, “Stop pushing me away.” 

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. She could feel the shape of the words as each formed on his lips. Tears fell freely from her brown eyes, there was nothing she could do to contain them any longer. 

“Tom,” Her whimper of his name was cut off by his lips again against hers. 

This wasn’t alright. This wasn’t safe. She shouldn’t give in. Again and again she told herself theses things but his plea circled in her mind as his lips caressed hers. When his grip on her wrist slackened, her wrist slipped through his fingers. 

Then he was weaving his fingers through hers. His hand was warm against her palm, pushing the back of her hand and his fingers against the wall behind them. His arm was around her waist, holding her to him. 

When had it gotten there? She didn’t know. 

The cool wall pressed against her shoulders as she backed into it, unaware her feet had been moving in the slightest. 

Every action he took was carefully calculated to try to avoid hurting her and yet she had shot him every chance she had gotten. 

Her heart screamed at her. It screamed how she had been the biggest fool in the world. What use did she have fighting it, fighting him?

Tom willed himself to stop. There was nothing in the world he wanted more right then to keep his lips against hers. Every fiber of his being wanted to show her just how much he cared for her but he had to stop himself. 

This was already too much. If anything more happened, he was sure to scare her away. This had to be enough for her to see. She had to see him. She had to see his heart now. She had to see too much. He needed her to see him, even if she saw too much. 

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

She was breathing him in. He was everywhere. He surrounded her, arms on either side of her. She was wrapped around him, her leg clinging to his hips. He supported her, arm holding one thigh up and open. He was inside her, being welcomed into her most inner core. 

Through half lidded eyes, she struggled to focus on anything. The room spun thanks in part to the vast amount she had drank. Her brain felt like it was resting on a cloud, being pushed and pulled with every thrust into her.

He was in the very air she breathed. He was everywhere and everything. 

The soft panting moans falling from his parted lips were the most erotic sound she had heard in a very long time. They sent excitement through her veins. 

“More,” She whispered, wrapping her arm around his back, clinging to him.

Her fingers ran through the short curls on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching his scalp. Arching into him, she ran her hands along his sides and back.

“More.”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite, @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom, @buttercupcookies-blog, @violethaze, @kats72, @soulpiercing, @evedia, @princess-ofthe-pages

[komododraggggqueen]

Julia by Sandra Newman is a terrible book and here’s why

“Julia never actually liked Winston Smith, she actually thought he was pretentious and annoying.”

So why does she repeatedly tell him she loves him

“She’s lying.”

But why

“She was a honeytrap by the Thought Police.”

But she acts surprised when the Thought Police come to arrest her

“She’s been told to act surprised.”

So she’s just doing as she’s told for the entire novel and never makes any decisions for herself

“Yes! It’s what she has to do to survive! That’s the point of the book!”

Really because she never once says that when she’s being used as a whore for the Thought Police, if anything it seems like she’s motivated by the prospect of getting a new flat, plus she seems to put actual effort into adopting the party’s ideology, so clearly it’s not just about survival…

“Okay so Julia’s motivations are a little confused, but this book adds so much that Orwell didn’t consider in the original!”

Like what

“The Holodomor.”

Jesus Christ…

“No, but it’s the survival theme again, she sells her mother out in order to escape the famine!”

Okay, and how does she feel about that?

“She doesn’t, she was only a kid, she can’t hold herself responsible.”

Really? Because Winston held himself responsible for the deaths of his mother and sister, and he was only a kid, it’s part of what makes him so complex…

“Well that wouldn’t work here anyway.”

Why not?

“Julia’s mother makes her do it.”

Are you serious? Does Julia make a single decision in the entire story?

“Of course! She runs away at the end.”

What, when she’s seven months pregnant and has been tortured and starved for months? I thought this was supposed to be about providing a woman’s perspective on the original; what woman would choose to go for a cross country run in that physical state?

“Julia’s built different. She doesn’t even get scared when the rats jump onto her face.”

Why would she? It’s never established that she was scared of them in the first place!

“She bites one of their heads off.”

Cringe, then what

“Oh, then they just let her go.”

You cannot be serious

“Of course! They’ve got to use Room 101 at least a hundred times a day, so she just runs out the clock.”

And how does she figure that out

“She doesn’t, someone…”

…tells her to do it, quel surprise

“No but this character is a super cool badass female OC who O’Brien plagiarises because he has no ideas of his own.”

Are you aware of the irony of writing that in a book that wouldn’t exist without Orwell’s original

“Yeah but Orwell’s protagonist is so whiny!”

He’s a victim of a totalitarian regime, what do you expect

“Yeah but he’s so self-important!”

And that’s his downfall, in his hubris he falls into the most obvious trap in the world, O’Brien lures him in with the masculine power fantasy of being a resistance fighter and Smith pays the price by being carted off to the Ministry of Love to be tortured to death.

“The Ministry of Love isn’t that bad, Julia makes it out okay.”

Yes, that’s the problem, Julia survives everything

“She does get a nasty scratch off one of those rats…”

In the original it’s implied she got lobotomised

“That wouldn’t work in this version.”

I shudder to ask, but why not

“Because she needs to live long enough to see the regime fall.”

And how long does that take

“About six hours after the end of the original.”

Are you fucking serious

“And then she meets Big Brother face to face!”

Big Brother isn’t fucking real

“In this version he is.”

So you have a protagonist who survives the horrors of a brutal famine, the Ministry of Love and Room 101 with barely any emotional or physical damage, then after a heavily pregnant hike she gets to meet the final boss of totalitarianism face to face, and you think Winston is self-important?

“Did I mention that she’s queer in this version?”

Is that supported by the text of the original in any way at all

“No.”

Then why. Why to any of this. If you hate Winston so much and you have to change every single aspect of Julia to shoehorn her into your batshit headcanons, why write a book about them, why write a book about 1984, why did this get published, why is this getting good reviews. Why. Why. Why to any of this

[rlyehtaxidermist]

honestly I think people underestimate how important it is to tell someone to go fuck themselves sometimes. one of my favourite examples is Eva Rowe

Rowe lost both of her parents in the 2005 Texas City refinery disaster. she received a boilerplate apology letter for the death of her father - the company apparently either unaware, or sufficiently automated as to not notice, that her mother had died in the same incident. Rowe was also offered a part in a settlement process which would give her a sizable payout in exchange for never being able to criticise the company in the media

she told them to go fuck themselves. she took BP to court, publicly proclaiming that she would not take any settlement that did not hold corporate leadership accountable. after her case got attention from the press, it proceeded to the point that her lawyers wanted to call BP's CEO as a witness - at which point the company caved to her demands. Eva Rowe's version of the settlement:

got considerably more money than she had already asked for (probably - the personal settlement terms are unknown)

got even more money to charities, including hospitals and research institutes working on industrial safety

and most importantly:

forced BP to publish seven fucking million pages of internal documents, including reports indicating that employees had repeatedly voiced concerns about safety at the plant and been ignored

As a result, BP as a corporation would receive the first criminal conviction for a chemical release under the Clean Air Act.

...unfortunately, they were only fined a trivial amount of money (for a company like BP) and continue to operate drilling and refining operations. and we all know how that turns out. but a small win is more than no win - so never underestimate telling someone to go fuck themself