#there's absolutely no intentional symbolism or anything with the mirrored shot

[div-divington]

Oceanview Motel and Casino

[earthwormspaghetti]

I feel simultaneously very sad about the Thing (ffs there’d better be an AU fanfic where everything’s absolutely the same, except Izzy’s still there) and very happy that Stede and Ed finally got to be silly little innkeepers together.

Also, why, though. Why Izzy, of all people? You just give him a lovely redemption arc, a good story of acceptance from the crew and the journey to self-love, AND a killer speech to that asshole with the wooden schnoz, but then YOU FUCKING RUN IT INTO THE GROUND LIKE A BOAT WITH A MADMAN AT ITS PROW!

Do you UNDERSTAND what you did? The character everyone enjoyed watching grow and hurt and feel happy and learn, who finally got a chance at happiness after basing his whole life off something that only hurt him, who survived all the curveballs thrown at him, you just ABANDONED him so the story had a bit of drama in it?!

Also, if I correctly calculate, Stede & Ed (the real people!) do only 1 year at sea: this is correctly mirrored in the show; they leave seafaring after about a year (1717-1718)

Meanwhile, Isreal Hands is said to have continued after Ed Teach and Stede Bonnet stopped; he’s on PHYSICAL records (for testimony against Ed’s corruption, but such details are not the most important in the show’s contents. [what IS, you mothers and sons of fuckers, is how long he fucking LIVED!]) as being alive and well after both pirates’ end of careers: he was recuperating from a bullet wound (see what you could’ve DONE THERE, you?! See how symbolic it could’ve been for him to recover from that bullet he took, this time not ferreted away in secrecy, but cared for by the crew, and, most importantly, in the place where he finally felt welcome? To heal and get better, becoming captain like he was [IRL] of Blackbeard’s ship the Adventure? TO FINALLY FEEL AT HOME AND SAFE?! To have CLOSURE?!)

But NOOOOOO, you just HAD to kill the guy off, and for what? Was the intent to make it more dramatic? To amplify people’s feelings while watching the show? Because what has been done here is a deliberate killing off of a very prominent character, with no obvious or logical reason for doing so in view.

Now, this is certainly a complaint against the writing choices for the show, but can’t we also blame HBO, who crammed it into 8 episodes instead of 10? Would it be better if they had more stuff to work with; would there have been less need for drama and melancholy? I would strongly prefer slower episodes, to cramming the storyline into only eight, and just throwing random shit at the whiteboard and seeing what sticks. You understand? That drama is not the answer? That having him recover, or better yet, just not have him get shot at all, would be so much funner to wrap up ROMANTIC COMEDY with?!

For fuck’s sake, we don’t even really know when Izzy died; the only record we have is from 1724, when Captain Charles Johnson said in his book “A General History Of The Pyrates” that he died a beggar in London.

See how fucking open ended that is? Just a questionable source, giving a rather vague claim? How EASY it would be to have him… well, pretty much do anything except get randomly shot in 1718? They did it for Ed and Stede, they could very easily do it for Izzy.

At least, if they wanted something exciting/dramatic, have him be captured by the English and testify against Ed as an innocent bystander who Teach maimed; and somehow build from there. Maybe he could become a craftsman and fade into obscurity, enjoying a quiet life on land. Maybe become a singer at a bar, having a good time as himself (he wasn’t bad at the party, he could sure use that to his advantage!) Maybe he could run into the crew, just as he’s about to be executed, or as he’s being hanged, and be liberated by them; to rejoin their crew as their beloved unicorn. Maybe he could get lost and presumed dead in the chaos, only to be found alive and his usual slightly damp, permanently cranky state of being a while later.

I now feel quite disappointed to be deprived of my, and a lot of people’s, favorite weird little one-legged grouch.

Godspeed to the fic makers, I wish you all the best of winds in your sails, which sadly appears to have left that small part of the story itself. Make me proud and use as many adjectives as you like; I’d love to learn how many words you can find to convey “strange and slightly greasy”.

[virlath]

Hidden Trespasser mosaics

So I was researching some lore for a theory surrounding the environmental artwork in DAI, and happened to stumble upon this twitter post regarding unused mosaics for Trespasser. 

Coincidentally, I’ve been so deep in statues and elven god symbolism the past few days that I thought I’d chime in with some of my own thoughts.

From left to right in these artworks, I think we’re looking at four different gods involved in Solas’ slave rebellion.

Fen’Harel, Dirthamen/Falon’Din, Andruil, Mythal

===

If this hidden game file is anything to go by, it seems to confirm one theory I’ve had for a while- that Solas had help from some of the evanuris with his slave rebellion.

Because when you think about it, it’s kinda hard to believe he could have started a slave rebellion at all with his high profile and attachment to Mythal, especially when slaves seems to have been a big economy in ancient Elvhenan.

===

The gods in these mosaics

From left to right in the image

(Note: I actually posted some hi-res shots of the masks from DAO yesterday if you’re interested in seeing unedited screenshots, but I’ll break down my guesses here anyway.)  

1. Fen’Harel is obviously the wolf.

2. Dirthamen’s mask is easiest to spot because it matches the shape of his statues in DAO. Note that Dirthamen and Falon’Din have very similar statues and masks.

Falon’Din is the statue with the spear (recognised by Tamlen as “friend of the dead”) while I believe Dirthamen is the statue with four arms (this also strongly implies the envy demon in DAI is his corrupted raven, Deceit)

I believe Falon’Din and Dirthamen are two aspects of the same being, but how that actually works remains to be seen. Some people have suggested Falon’Din walks the fade while Dirthamen walks the physical realm and perhaps that explains their togetherness and separateness. 

Regardless, it does seem like both Falon’Din and Dirthamen were involved in Solas’ uprising due to the fact that both their mosaics are found inside the elven sanctuary before we see Solas’ mural removing vallaslin.

3. Andruil’s mask seems to fit most similarly to the third mosaic.

The overall curved shape mirrors Andruil’s bow in her mosaic, and the dotted indentation at the top totally looks like an arrow shaft. The eye placement in both the mosaic and the mask hints to me that this is very likely Andruil.

The big question- why would Andruil be helping Solas?

Perhaps because Mythal turned her to their side after she “sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void.”

Or, perhaps Andruil isn’t as “evil” as people think she is.

Sure, she may have brought on the blight (although even this is conjecture, personally I feel like this could very well could be misdirection) and may have hunted “mortal men and beasts”, but who’s to say these beasts and men didn’t deserve what they got? Who’s to say she wasn’t corrupted by the void before she became the “goddess of sacrifice”?

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking The Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss.

This implies to me she could have simply been hunting beings that had given her cause to hunt them. Remember, she was the only god that responded to Ghilan’nain’s cries for help, and at this time Ghilan’nain was one of the People, implying she wasn’t totally evil.

Andruil also has strong links to Falon’Din, because she and Falon’Din share the same symbol of the owl. What if Mythal meted out judgement, Falon’Din brought her judgement to them in the form of the owl (thus fulfilling the role of Andruil’s messenger as well as “friend of the dead”), and Andruil hunted them in turn to render Mythal’s judgement?

“Always keep an eye out for the noble owl. You never know: Andruil might have a message for you.”

It is interesting to see that the owl statue is always carrying what looks like a mirror or even dimension to another world (another prison perhaps?), possibly intended as a way to reflect the viewer’s own self and actions back on to them. 

Anyway, to me there are a number of possibilities why Andruil would work with Solas and co. Perhaps she wasn’t as corrupted as they thought. Perhaps Mythal made her forget so much so she agreed to help them. Or perhaps Andruil was the mole in the rebellion - the person who began the events that led to Mythal’s death.

4. I think the last god represents Mythal, due to the fact the shape is similar to the bronze statues found in the crossroads and deep roads.

There are in fact two versions of this statue - the sun, in the crossroads, and the moon in the deep roads. (brightened and contrast boosted for clarity)

The moon statue is strongly implied to represent Mythal, because a note is found near this statue:

These statues are old. Better shape than anything I've seen on the surface. Many of them are for Mythal, though. And Fen'Harel. Not in a spot of honor, but guarding, attending.

Question is, why would the sun also represent Mythal when Elgar’nan is known as the Eldest of the sun? 

Well, not only does the sun statue look very much the yin to the yang of the moon statue in the deep roads, the sun could refer to Mythal being both the sun and moon to the dwarves. 

These statues are notably different to other elven statues we’ve seen- notable for the fact they have a large base of rock, and they are carved in smooth bronze.  As these bronze statues are only found in this particular section of the deep roads where she controlled a lyrium wellspring, perhaps the dwarves carved these as a representation of her.

In the third note you find in the deep roads, a poem reads:

I am empty, filled with nothing(?), Mythal gives you dreams. It fills you, within you(?), Making our leaders proud. My little stones, Never yours the sun. Forever, forever.

It sure seems to me like Mythal was protecting these dwarves from something. Either that, or she was using these dwarves as slaves or minions in her operation and for some reason, they revered her enough to carve their own representations of her.

Morrigan says this of Mythal at the Temple of Mythal:

Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike.’

Similarly, Solas further says:

She was the mother,  protective and fierce. 

Regardless, I think there’s more evidence indicating Mythal was working with Solas over Elgar’nan. You do need Mythal’s passphrase after all to enter the elven sanctuary safely.

And if you want to take this one step further, check out the crown “Andraste” is wearing in DAO. Look familiar??? Maybe reminscent of the moon statue we see in the deep roads?

I don’t want to say Mythal was Andraste but...there are many signs that are hard to ignore.

===

More theory drabble

I realise a lot of the gods’ motives I’ve come up with above are based on conjecture and tbh, the writing for DA4 could go so many ways simply because of the fact that there are so many wide open threads that could be expanded upon.

These unused mosaics does indicate to me at least that the writers have a plan for how Solas’ rebellion actually functioned however, and that to me is exciting in itself.

One thing we can assume with high certainty is that Solas started the slave rebellion before Mythal’s death, because you need her passphrase to enter his sanctuary. Furthermore, even without these unused mosaics there are in-game mosaics of Dirthamen and Falon’Din in the sanctuary before we see the vallaslin mural.

This strongly implies to me that at the very least, even without this hidden game file, that Dirthamen, Falon’Din and Mythal aided and abetted Solas’ slave rebellion.

Further adding to this theory are the the rather compelling links to Dirthamen throughout DAI. For example, the gilded Fen’Harel statues in Dirthamen’s temple’s inner sanctum, Dirthamen’s bleeding statue in the Fade, Dirthamen, Falon’Din, Mythal and Fen’Harel imagery in the Knight’s Tomb, as well as Dirthamen’s statue at Calenhad’s foothold (where it’s implied he had a thing with Ghilan’nain). Not to mention- dual raven standards found underneath Fen’Harel’s sanctuary, as well as archer statues next to the eluvian as you exit (who I believe represent Dirthamen & Falon’Din).

Something clearly happened that led to Mythal’s death, and I’m leaning towards the fact that there was a leak somewhere within Solas’ trusted circle. Dirthamen seems to have been betrayed by someone close to him before the veil was created, because his statue in the fade is stabbed in the back and his eyes are weeping waterfalls of blood. 

As Solas says “...an enemy can attack, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.” 

And, when you tell him you trust your friends? He responds “I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory” 

It is assumed he is talking about Mythal’s own betrayal when he says this, but he could also be referring to the person/people who betrayed him and his trust. Personally, I think Falon’Din and Ghilan’nain could be key players in Mythal’s death at this point. We don’t know enough about the other gods to also make assumptions on their motives unfortunately. 

All in all, it seems to me like every one of the false gods were out to get one another, and Solas never even saw Mythal’s death coming because he was too arrogant/preoccupied with his rebellion.

If Solas really was Mythal’s oldest friend and guardian, his pride would have been absolutely crushed when she was betrayed and killed. The veil was likely a knee-jerk reaction due to his pride and “hot-headedness” more than anything- if he could be outplayed and have his own power and role as “guardian” outright questioned, then of course he would retaliate and raise the stakes even higher. It’s his MO- he has a means to an ends “you didn’t invent war” mentality, disregarding the collateral damage as long as he comes out on top.

This does make me wonder what intentions he has for the false gods once they’re freed though. Obviously Mythal wants her vengeance. But what of Solas? These false gods were his kin after all and the only ones who can truly relate to him on a level no mortal can understand. After all these years of stewing and realising his knee-jerk reaction cost him the entire elven empire, it makes sense he would want to restore what he effectively destroyed when his pride was hurt. 

To me it does seem like he truly hates the evanuris...but could he still be in leagues with some of them? Something I may not put past him, considering I don’t think he worked alone during his rebellion. 

[ironmandeficiency]

all over the road

all over the road

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales / reader

word count: 1345

summary: you and frankie get pulled over.

a/n: first time writing for frankie! and literally any pedro pascal character ever! i’m excited bc i love them both so dang much asdfghjkl, and personally i’m yearning for summer to end so please excuse my yearning for autumn. tagging @scribbledghost​ and @catfishingmorales​ who said they were excited for this. here’s the song i listened to while writing

warnings: mild cursing, suggestive themes, getting pulled over

red and blue flashed from behind frankie’s truck. the colors that normally symbolized freedom in that moment meant anything but, the cop’s sirens piercing the crisp autumn air. frankie groaned in frustration and let his head fall back against the headrest. he told you this could happen if you didn’t stay on your side of the truck. but how could he deny you, with the way you were kissing his neck and the hand sliding up and down his thigh.

despite what most logic is telling, you don’t remove yourself from frankie’s side as the officer knocks on the window.

your boyfriend doesn’t make any attempt to move you away from him, instead deciding to try and pretend that nothing was wrong. “good evenin’, officer.” it made you want to laugh and amp up the teasing but you had at least a little bit of dignity.

“good evenin’. license and registration please.”

“of course.”

the officer who pulled you over seemed to be having a decent day, and he also didn’t seem like an asshole. maybe this wouldn’t end in a ticket. he disappeared back to his vehicle to run frankie’s information and as soon as he had reached the back of frankie’s truck, your boyfriend’s lips were on yours.

“i cannot believe you,” he softly laughed into the kiss, “i told you this was gonna happen.”

“how was i supposed to know?”

“you know good and well that if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have no luck at all.” his chuckle followed the phrase he’s often repeated to you. it was an inside joke, a reference to the way you both met.

frankie’s day had been shit and he figured that drinkin’ away his troubles was less illegal than the alternative, so he found himself at the bar. you had been knockin’ drinks back one after another since frankie saw you for the first time at the crowded bar. from what he could tell, you’d been there for a bit and had no imminent plans that involved slowing down. the stool next to you was the only one open and he sat down on it, flagging the bartender to get him a drink.

it was hard to not notice the handsome stranger that had taken a seat next to you. he had a calming air about him that had you slowing down in your chugging of the drink in your hand. “rough day?” it was a simple question yet simultaneously the understatement of the century. you knew it was a question directed towards you, you catching him looking at you in your peripheral vision and not minding it as much as you would have a few drinks earlier.

“you could say that,” you huffed as you finished the last sip of your drink, hand immediately raising to order another. you hadn’t been keeping track but it didn’t matter how many you had, somehow you still hadn’t forgotten the nightmare that was the day’s events.

first you had been blamed for something going wrong at work that was most definitely your fault (it was that bitch becky with the good hair, the one that had been passed up for the promotion you had gotten a few months earlier when you were previously below her in the company food chain).

then, on your way home from what was a terrible day already, you’re rear-ended and sent into the back end of the car in front of you, a nasty gash on your head and now a car that needed repair. the repairs needed were costly and would take a week at the least, and a ride to work wasn’t a sure bet.

you’d never been more grateful that you lived across the street from the bar you now occupied.

he asked you about what made the day so terrible that you were now turning your blood with slight alcohol content to alcohol with a little bit of blood, and you were nearly brought to tears by how genuine he sounded, how concerned he seemed to be over a complete stranger. so you told him all about your terrible day and not even a minute in had him rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“well damn hon,” he sympathized, “if it weren’t for bad luck you’d have none at all.”

that was the start of a friendship that was quick to turn to something more…

which had you in this precarious situation that you were now in. in the side view mirror you could see the officer getting out of his vehicle, but you made no move to take your hand from frankie’s thigh or lips from his neck. frankie knew you were doing this just to taunt him and he wasn’t going to give in by gently pushing you away.

“sir, have you been drinking this evening?”

“no sir, not even one beer.”

“then can you explain why you were in the other lane and hoggin’ the road all the way back from the city limits sign?”

that was the perfect moment to raise your hand a little higher up his thigh and squeezing in that little spot oh so close to the crease between hip and thigh that drove him crazy. he had to fake a cough to hide the moan from the officer, whose eyebrow raised at the two of you.

“well officer, you see this sweet thing here? she’s been teasin’ me since we got in the car. i’m doing my best and i know i’m all over the road, but i can’t help it.”

the officer isn’t impressed. not by a long shot. however, he does acknowledge your presence latched onto frankie. “ma’am, are you wanting to cause a wreck?”

it takes you a moment too long to comprehend the fact that the officer is talking to you. not until frankie’s got your chin in his hands and is pulling it away from his neck to look the officer in the eyes. “no sir, i don’t.” you genuinely meant no harm, that shouldn’t have been a question. part of you was offended at the insinuation but voicing that discontent would do nothing but make it all the more likely that frankie would get a ticket for his driving.

he seemed to be pondering something for a second, studying the two of you intently before speaking once again. “then please ma’am, be a bit more merciful to mr. morales in the future. i’ll let you off with a warning if you promise to not distract him till you get to wherever you’re going.” he was starting to find the situation a bit funnier than he had when he first saw the pickup swerving all over the road.

you quickly nod your agreement to his terms and sit back in the passenger seat, appreciation flowing from your lips and frankie’s as he printed out the warning slip. “you two have a good evening, and drive safe.”

“yes officer, absolutely. thank you.”

with that, the officer left and you were free to go. once the officer was out of earshot, the two of you were cackling at the situation you just endured. it was like it was pulled straight out of a movie or something. wait, movie wasn’t right.

frankie turned the key in the ignition and the radio crackled back to life and it was uncanny the song that came on.

no sir i ain't been drinkin'

i ain't even had one beer

this sweet thing's got me buzzin'

from whisperin' in my ear

just take a peek up in here

at this little hot mess

mister, you'll understand

i'm doin' my best

and i know i'm all over the road...

it was a song. your life had officially become a country song and it was hilarious. the grin on frankie’s face as he recognized the tune had you clutching your sides in a vain attempt to hold yourself together. the hilarity increased when he sang along, shooting you flirty winks the whole time and not bothering to keep any sort of pitch.

[mamusings]

Having let the 15 x 18 percolate I started to watch again s23 and ep 1-6 of 15. Basically everything available. I'd gotten tired of feeling toyed with and feeling gaslit when trying to get confirmation from reviews for what I felt I was seeing. Ita very rarely in the dialogue but just in the eye lines and symbolically sometimes in the parallel plots.

Anyway: season 14 is a joy really. The beothere have grown up. I had been dishing the endless desperate loop of I d die for you wearing thin. Sam is basically cooked. A leader in the best sense (using his intelligence and his empathy). Dean accepts it even tho it's a bit new to him not being the boss. (The dialogue on chief)

We get that recognition more explicitly here that I found in my reviews of the early seasons that these are 2 very different men but now they have a degree of comfort and space in that that eluded them. They allow each other to be.

Which brings me to my predictions. Sam may be cooked but Dean isnt. Hes still not worked out who he is and how to have what he wants (cas basically).

So is Dean in love with Cas. Absolutely, i think this has been shown in subtext much more clearly than is Cas in love with Dean (I mean romantically/sexually). With Cas we see loyalty, devotion and affection. For an angel what does love mean? I was never quite sure. Does he want an actual relationship with Dean?

Dean's easier hes clearly incredibly attracted excited fascinated by cas in the initial phase. Then you get the affection, the liking, protectiveness. High point purgatory. Also devotedness.

In later seasons we get heartbroken widower and the co-parents/husbands. Plus their fights start to look more like a bickering couple that anything else.

So I am absolutely convinced that Dean is in love with cas.

But how aware is Dean of how he feels? I think hes so scared if being rejected by cas he can barely admit this to himself. Its telling Michael doesnt know how Dean feels about Cas. Theres lots of gay couples in the background by s23 early e15. I'd say it's an indicator Dean knows hed like to be with cas. Theres been no on screen hook ups for Dean (although there are references). But what we get now is acknowledging that a large part of Dean's flirting is social behaviour rather than sexual intent. It's nice, its charming but he doesnt mean it. (Pamela). So at some level Dean knows he wants to be together with Cas. He knows what he has with Cas. (Telling John he has a family - ok that goes wider than Cas but in my view early spn is Dean trying to grown beyond his father having the white picket fence and the girl always felt like something Dean felt he should want rather than something he really did want. The relationship with lisa is framed with lots of doing the chores and proper manly chores at that)

But I do think Dean knows how he feels. We are back to him having dialogue with Sam (Jess even comes up) with that typical early destiel trope of shots of Dean where I think the implication is that Dean is thinking about the same subject matter in relation to cas.

Sam knows but I think the malak box incident re Dean shows us that Sam knows when not to push Dean. He offers opportunities to open up but he doesnt push his brother. Like I said they get each other better now. It's not like when john dies and sam is pushing and pushing for a conversation. Now as cas and Dean's relationship falls apart we get a lot of pained reaction shots from sam. Just like we sometimes get the oh just kiss already smirk in earlier seasons. Sam doesn't understand why this relationship doesnt progress but he respects both cas and dean and doesnt meddle. I think when dean comes our Sam will be pivotal support.

What's interesting is that e15 as far as I have seen it seems to mirror early spn. Dean is mirroring his father. Obsessed with revenge at all costs. Neglecting love and relationships. The brothers are regressing into their old.relationship patterns under stress of mary dying with Dean taking up his rage filled leadership.role again. But the wierd thing is the endless we dont have a choice. Its tfw they have choice, they are all about choice. In fact Cas is choice embodied. He shouldn't have choice but he does. And over the seasons since the soul consumption he has grown remarkably in handling choices. To the extent that at the end of s14 he no longer refers to Dean's choice making on Jack. That's happened before with Kelly but then it was more ambiguous cos it got Cas dead. Then it was faith, he believes I Jack. With the malak box and Jack its ethics. Cas has grown up. Right through s14 its striking how wise he is, how he draws on experience and knowledge to counsel those around him.

I think there is a sharing of power, of burden, to come. The narrative of we shoulder all this so everyone.else can live the cute life we cant will be transformed. Basically buffy final season.

Cas professing his love for Dean. And by preparing what he wants is something he cant have I think is a totally non ambiguous profession of romantic and sexual love. He has friendship with Dean, he has family. What cas thinks he cant have is more that that. So without the fear of rejection Dean's wall can come down. I'm not sure how aware he is of what he feels because Dean can ne a dumbass, but he definitely feels it. Sam knows and will help once Dean opens up. That will take a while because Dean doesnt open up easily.

And finally a comment on the crying which oddly isnt in many of the fan vids. I think jensen is a great actor when it comes to emotional crying scenes. But we should appreciate that so far we have had weeping - tear tracks slowly with big exposition or dealing with grief wiping at his eyes. Or the meltdown, high octane crying very distressed generally life or death shit with Sam and a lot of emotion. We have never seen Dean crying into his hands like that. Curled up, despairing. I think that's another indicator that Dean absolutely knows how he feels about cas.

One final thing. Cas will be back, we wont have Dean at the end of spn with6the person he loves. Either in this world.or another its gonna happen.

Another thing I suspect is that we see with jack that while cas is the great reliable advice parent he cant bond as quickly emotionally as Dean. Its Dean who, when hes minded has the talent of emotional connection in a way cas and sam dont. The fishing expedition shows us that. Dean has the most trou ped connection to Jack, hes hated him wanted him dead. But hes also the one who gets the sunlit upland of fishing. Same as cas is the one who loves unconditionally when Mary is killed. He hugs jack. So when dean is ready to love cas publicly i think it wont be a huge thing of awkward shuffling feet. It'll be Dean doing what hes good at, loving people, but doing it with cas.

Ok I've only watched til episode 6. Gonna avoid spoilers from noe on and cross my fingers. Cant wait to watch it all.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas

[mastcrplanncr-a]

issue #23 made me really heccin’ emo over eggman and sonic. i was prepared for it, but also ?? not prepared??? holy frick im just gonna ramble under the cut.

first of all, i’m just gonna’ idly ramble about some things i noticed.

Eggman, literally 11 issues ago:

he makes these off remarks and then changes his mind whenever it’s convenient for him smh. that or hes a freaking liar and. WELL THAT’S PRETTY TRUE HONESTLY.

i’ma be honest fam starline is a freaking mood rn. it’s ?? so dumb?? LIKE EGGMAN WHERE IS YOUR FUCKING FAILSAFE UR SOLUTION WAS “not touching the robots hurr durr” PL EASE.

In retrospect, though, this is an interesting parallel to Forces because he’d apparently learned from his mistakes. TBF, and it has been brought up elsewhere on tumblr, this is a man recovering from amnesia. He must’ve just not gotten to that part. OR HE’S JUST. DUMB AND ARROGANT. Like, yeah, sure, there’s no vaccine - lol the heroes can’t fix anything & it also means you’re valuable because you’re the one person who can. BUT COME ON EGGMAN.

my friend actually predicted this holy shit. i was rambling abt a discussion we had in the egg cult, where we were talking about the possibility of sonic infecting eggman to blackmail him into getting the cure because he’s reached the point?? hes so done with eggman’s shit??? all his friends are in danger and hes backed into a wall what else is he to do than do the one thing he doesn’t want to: use eggman’s tactics against him?

and my friend was like:

LIKE. IT IS A HUGE RISK, and Sonic went FOR IT. I’M SCREAMING TBH.

THIS CONFRONTATION WAS SO FUCKING RAW YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I thought I was ready for it but I really, REALLY wasn’t. I love the little details of Starline bein’ like: “oh fuck” - usually he’s pretty cocky around Sonic but uh. HE’S INFECTED NOW. And the zero remark - idk if that’s intentional on the writer’s part but ZERO TO HERO anyone?

anyway toxi broke down crying at this point. you have no idea how much i was sobbing over my blue son just. pouring out his heart to his nemesis. that’s top tier tearjerking material.  also starline passive aggressively readjusting his outfit lmfao. BITCH IM FABULOUS. but man the usage of ‘ BE’ and ‘LIKE’ - Sonic knows who Eggman is; he’d never ask him to be something he’s not. but it’s also a reiteration of sonic’s want to see good in him; being LIKE tinker is a statement in that he wanted eggman to be who he was, but NOT to go back. to do good for the world. have it be his own decision, because deep deep down:

isn’t that what he really wants?

Also, although there are those sickly sweet descriptions, the usage of ellipses in this narrative really fucks me up because you can practially hear the gradual realization in eggman’s voice. his mockery starts out so !!! but it just eventually gets straight to the point, as a list. as a routine. because he was used to it. and because, some part of him misses it. notice the usage of ‘need’ and ‘use’. they needed him, and yet he used the people that appreciated him sm like puppets.

some nice guilt there, huh, doc?

ALSO I SPENT LIKE, HOURS TRYING TO FIND THIS EXACT DIALOGUE, but Eggman has a conversation in Dark Brotherhood with Sonic and makes this remark:

LIKE??? this isn’t new to his character, actually? Ignoring the ken penders thing bc smh. Going by this game he’s actually kind of okay with that set up. And he just works so well with the others too??? this isn’t even taking into account the other games he’s teamed up with them. I’m sorry but my head just goes back to this line so many times; it’s one of the ones that stick with me, along with ‘complicated guy’ from lost world. HE COULD!! legitimately do good. and he actually doesn’t find it too bad??? IM EMO MAN...

and IMAGINE making super cool things that people genuinely like... eggman has a HUGE ego, that much is very apparent; he’s super big on appreciation as comes with. and with tinker? he had that - he felt appreciated and loved. people LIKED what he made, and he didn’t have to bend over backwards to have that. his work felt included and he didn’t have to take that appreciation by force like he did with his lackeys (which half the time was fake anyway) .

first and foremost - WE SEE THAT OPEN YOUR HEART REFERENCE, IDW. also sonic’s frustration here, in comparison to the lil smile the panel before - he’s just!! “WHY CANT YOU WAKE THE FRICK UP OLD MAN”. the justification here seems a tad bit like DENIAL to me. and the justification seems... kind of odd from him? since when does EGGMAN justify anything he does? He does what he wants and when he wants, because he’s the E.G.G.M.A.N. he doesn’t care what anyone thinks... right?

it’s because - especially with the usage of better - he didn’t like where that train of thought was going. for once, he’s justifying himself - because the alternative is admitting sonic is right. that he did like that life. that he’d want to go back. throw it in a hierachy and it’s all so simple, right?

also the inclusion of open your heart lyrics here. the incident with chaos was just as catastrophic. and these lyrics in context of the previous panel, highlights how sonic and eggman both seek unity and peace but in their own ways; eggman’s is just evil. it seems a little bit of a diversion to me - to antagonise sonic and make him forget about it. what better way to do that than to relate to him? ‘own styles that we won’t change’ highlights a stubbornness in ways, too, especially with the current context of eggman denying his old life. ALSO IT IS LITERALLY TELLING EGGMAN TO OPEN HIS HEART.

and ngl this seems like idle banter to hide the fact he genuinely felt remorse for his actions for a second. because lbr he has a habit of being all talk when a plan goes wrong or suffering inside,

which starline does quite pointedly explain.

As I was saying above, Sonic has no choice in what to do now - he’s reaching his limit. OR ELSE. hes pondering doing the thing he doesnt want to do. and honestly, ‘you can’t stop me. no one can,’ is so hardhitting not just because of its looming threat, but because of how much it solidifies for sonic that he can’t take the chance anymore. if anyone is going to change eggman, it has to be himself.

also can i just cry over how much sonic trusts tails. im getting sa2 flashbacks.

also man i’d like to point out the specific use of ‘lock you away forever’. it coooould be a reference to sonic’s time imprisoned during the events of sonic forces. bitterness?

NOT SAYING I CALLED IT, BUT I CALLED IT. it still hurts though. and wow, it really is horrifying when eggman fears his own heccin’ creation, huh?

i live for sonic being passive aggressive with eggman. give me more please.

im immensely concerned the direction starline is going, honestly. but it does say a lot about eggman; how he’ll keep trying the same things expecting different results, but failing and never seeing that. because he’s EGGMAN; every plan is brilliant by default!

i love how sonic just !!! SHOT... THE MOMENT HE WAS REMINDED WHAT WAS AT STAKE. son i love you so much you’re doing great sweetie

also, man, can we talk about eggman avoiding his blatant faults, and shoving his failures onto someone else? because this little scene here - eggman ur literally the one who crashed the thing. it had absolutely nothing to do with sonic. i feel as though this is symbolism of his self-destructive nature, honestly. hes always gotta make things harder for himself. (also starline’s face is killing me)

Eggman does what he has to, but technology won’t work every time you kick it. he thinks he can get everything through force but we have several instances in idw where force did NOT work out; you’re not gonna get far, egghead.

MHM, and just who does that sound like, Eggman? honestly the mirrors between these two are seriously destroying me. although sonic is in a horrible position, so is eggman; he likes to think he’s won the war, but hes surpassed his own expectations, and that’s going to backfire on him eventually. hes stubborn to admit he has NO REIGN over this and they’re all doomed, so he’s pinning his failures / loss on Sonic.

is that the amnesia kicking ya in the shin, eggman? or sonic’s reality check? either way, the doc hates emotions. dammit man why you gotta make him emo

future eggman is going to kick past eggman in the kneecaps. it’s times like this ur reminded how much of a kid he is. eugh but that’s work i want my victory and senseless destruction now. honestly if the doc is after success, he is certainly not getting it this way and I AM FEARING FOR EVERYONE’S LIVES. he’ll probably have to work with what’s left of the resistance like the back end of most games at some point.

I’m getting a little burnt out but i can’t forget my son and how much he hurts me.

first of all that third panel terrifies me. the fact it GOT that far does me great concern. the RED EYES? that’s pushing it fam i dont like that. the expressions are also just freaking destroying me; they’ve been PERFECT this issue. and the fact sonic is at his weakest when he feels like he’s failed everyone hurts me deeply. he has SO much on his shoulders and its getting too overwhelming for him.

also man... the whole thing with eggman... just stuff me man. but it hurts all the more because it’s so glaringly clear that there is?? some good in eggman??? he just. doesn’t want to admit it. and unfortunately these aren’t good circumstances to debate on that.

ANYWAY, THAT ISSUE WAS AGONY AND IM STILL REELING AND HAVENT EVEN. TALKED ALL THAT MUCH ABOUT SONIC HERE (on account of this being eggman’s blog) but idk if i’ll write anything on that.

gonna go cry about an egg now brb

[cultkaneko]

first aid kiss. || andy kang

dedication : @tooturntzorah

summary : andy gets a little scuffed up at basketball practice and mc (devon) patches him up.

warnings : fluff and maybe a little blood, light swearing.

Happy - NeverShoutNever

note : ugghh i feel like this is crap. but it’s the first time publishing anything so bare with me. i couldn’t really find a gif for what i was trying to convey in this one-shot but i thought it was cute so i put it. also i never romanced andy before so sorry if he’s ooc or anything and in my head i imagined this as one of my mc’s who was male with the long hair but i made them neutral with the default name since i wasn’t asked anything specific. i also kind of got this idea from a fan art drawing of andy but i forget where i saw it. x

><><><

‘What the hell am i reading?’ Devon thought to themself as they flipped through one of Cora’s journals, looking for a way, just a sliver of a chance to save their friend Noah.

They sat crisscrossed on the cold metal bleachers of Weschester High School, hair tied back in a bun even though many loose strands draped down in their eyes. Eyes that danced across foreign script and strange symbols with each withered page of the leather-bound journal.

Glancing up and huffing a stray strand of hair from their eyes. They were back in this godforsaken school gymnasium solely to watch their boyfriend, the great Kind g Kang, practice basketball, catching up on the year he missed after being injured in the attack of the previous year. Their eyes meet Andy’s for a brief moment and a soft smile spread across their face. Devon absolutely adored him, and he looked so at home and happy here getting to play basketball with Tom especially now that everyone on the team respected him. Maybe with a little help and good natured threatening on their part.

Gaze shifting back down to the pages in front of them, Devon furrowed their brows as if to force themself to understand the contents of the book. They pushed up to sleeves of their jacket that most definitely wasn’t their boyfriend’s varsity jacket. Because Devon definitely played sports.

Lost in thought for a solid few minutes Devon focused intently though their mind began wander first to the date Andy and them had planned for after his practice then to other mysteries this town might hold.

Shaking their head as if the clear those thoughts away they looked up again searching for their one anchor in this world. But scanning over the court yielded no results, Andy wasn’t there. Devon met Tom’s goggle covered eyes and tilted their head as if to ask where the boy had gone. He just jerked his thumb in the direction of the locker rooms with a slight nod, indicating the whereabouts of his best friend.

Getting up immediately and tucking the journal under there arm they hopped along the bleachers and made their way to the dark green door of the boys locker room. Pushing the unnecessarily heavy door up they step in searching for their boyfriend.

“Andy? You in here?” they called out softly. Slight worry crossing their features. Was his leg hurting him again? They told him not to work himself too hard. Of course there’s no stopping Andy from putting 120% effort into literally everything he does, which includes dates, Devon wasn’t going to complain about that part though.

“Dev? What are you doing in here.” Andy as if he was startled by their voice. His words sounding slightly muffled. They turned the corner to see the raven haired boy standing in front of the sinks mirror, holding a damp paper towel up to his lips.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Devon rushed over to him. Turning him with a light push on his shoulder. Blood soaked a bit through a damp paper towel he held to his lip.

Andy lowered the napkin, revealing a bloodied split lip and gash along the lower part of his jaw. Despite the injury though he stood there deep brown eyes looking into Devon’s with a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Devon didn’t realise how tease they had become, they only notice after their boy visibly relaxed but their eyes were still laced with concerned. A light giggle escaped there lips and they shook their head.

“Why are your smiling like that?” they asked with a much less serious tone. Instinctively reaching for the paper towel in his hand.

“Does this make me look tough?” he grinned letting out a awkward chuckle in an attempt to not open to wound on his lip any further.

“I cannot believe you,” Devon exhaled with an exasperated laugh, what are they going to do with this boy. “You do know you kicked serious monster ass last year, right? You don’t need a busted lip too look tough.” they rolled there eyes but gave a playful wink.

They grabbed Andy’s had leading him over to over of the bright red benches having him set down followed by them straddling the bench and reaching into their bag to dig for the little plastic baggy of first aid supplies they always carried around with them now. Andy had a habit of getting himself scuffed up quite a bit.

“Dev, it’s really nothing just a little scratch-“ they shut him up with a quite but soft peck on the lips whilst opening the baggy to pull out a bandage and an anti-septic wipe. A sweet smile danced upon their lips.

“You’re lucky i love you,” they retorted “and that have so much experience with first aid.”

Ripping off the top of the wipes package and pulling it out they dabbed at the gash on the top of his slightly chapped lips and the gash over his jaw line. He winced softly but was calmed by a tender thumb trancing over the cut and down the side of his jaw.

“Damn, i’m gonna get a cut of my own on that jawline.” Devon joked. starting to peel open to bandage to put on Andy’s chin.

“You are so weird.” he laughed out.

“But you love me.” they retorted tapping a finger on the tip of his very adorable nose.

“Unfortunately.” he spoke with a sweet sarcasm in his voice. But saying him loving Devon was a major understatement, he was full on head-over-heels for the amazing person in front of him.

Devon scrunched up their nose with a pursed smile and jokingly pushed at his shoulder.

“You know what?” Devon reached into the bag once again, “Just for that, you’re getting a Hello Kitty Band-Aid.” they giggled with mischief.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Andy snatched their wrist. They slipped their had to interlace finger with him waving their joined hands around happily.

“Fine, neon green it is,” They smiled up removing there hand from his grip to gently place the bandage on his jaw.

They straighten up their body placing a butterfly kiss on his nose, then his jaw, then the corner of his lips, finally landing directly on his lips, for a tender kiss. Andy reached his hand up to their hair brushing stray strands behind their surprisingly cold ears.

Pulling back the couple left their foreheads together smiling like two teenage idiots in an empty locker room.

“All better,” Devon grinned placing one last kiss on his lips and pulling back fully to look at him fully. He stuck his tongue a bit in a teasing way and they both chuckled in that cliche way that people that are utterly in love do.

“What even happened?” They asked tilting their head with curiosity.

“Oh. Emmet Sullivan, elbowed me in the face.” Andy answered nonchalantly as if it was a common occurrence.

At that Devon’s eyes widened the narrowed like a snake ready for prey. The once cold tips of their ears were now a bright shade of red, which spread across the bridge of their nose. Like some sort of instant sun burn or something. Andy thought it was kind of cute though.

“Guess i gotta go kick some ass then,” Devon stood up abruptly, fully prepared to fight this kid. No One. Messes with their boyfriend.

As they were about to step over the bench to storm out of the locker room, Andy grabbed their wrist. A soft laugh escaped his pink lips as he rolled his eyes pulling Devon back down onto the bench with a thump.

“As much as i find your feistiness extremely attractive,” he began with a smirk, “but it was honestly accident.” he chuckled, “he actually apologised like a million times, i think he feared for his life.”

“He better.” Devon said with a smug smile, “Tell Sullivan one more slip up from him and he’s getting curb stomped”

Andy smiled crashing his lips to theirs with a passion. They melted into embrace but Devon pulled back suddenly.

“Ah you’re so sweaty.” They giggled, scrunching up their nose playfully.

“Oh shut up,” Andy spoke back, pulling them back in for a few more kisses before going back to finish his practice.

edit:

GIVE ME FEEDBACK YOU HOOLIGANS

[altean-plance-au]

The Wedding

In celebration of breaking 1000 followers, we decided to treat you all to a glimpse of the future. As AdminRue said we are in awe and humbled so many of you want to keep up with this AU. We hope you continue to enjoy following us and look forward to continuing to grow this AU.

The Wedding

Various shuttles arrived at the lake in the forest. A platform was floating in the lake but connected to the shore. On the platform was seating as well as the altar.

Guests from all backgrounds stepped out of the shuttles and were lead to their seats.

King Alfor and Coran went to greet the rulers of Daibazaal and their son.

“Zarkon, Honerva, Lotor,” King Alfor greeted. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“We are pleased to be invited,” Zarkon replied. “Though I am surprised the wedding would be here and not at the capital.”

“That was at the request of the bride and groom,” Alfor replied. “They wanted it held here so two of their close friends could be present. Speaking of which here comes one now.”

A large creature rose out of the lake.

“What is that?” Zarkon demanded.

“That is the Gombash,” Coran explained. “Don’t worry, he’s a peaceful creature. Unless of course he senses you having malicious intent in which case he will kill you where you stand.”

Zarkon looked at the Gombash with fear and uncertainty until Honerva gave him a reassuring pat on the arm.

“It’s fine dear.”

The three went to their seats. Lotor suddenly felt a light tugging on his hair. As he turned he saw a small Altean girl.

“Hi I’m Nadia,” The girl said brightly.

“Prince Lotor, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lotor replied.

“You have really nice hair.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I braid it for you?”

“Er….”

Lotor was thankfully spared having to give an answer when the Nadia was called back by her mother.

“Nadia! Get back here!”

“Ok, bye Prince Lotor.”

As the girl left Honerva commented. “I think you’d look good with a braid.”

Lotor could only give his mother a half-hearted glare.

Keith and Krolia sat nearby seat watching the everything going on.

“Thank you for bringing me along,” Krolia said to her son.

“The invitation allowed for a plus one,” Keith answered. “There’s no one else I’d want to bring.”

“True,” Krolia developed a sly grin. “Though you know, it might have been a good opportunity to bring a date.”

“Mom!”

“Just saying.”

As Alfor was at the Altar going over the notes of the ceremony Blaytz approached and gave the king a hearty pat on the back.

“Today’s the big day, and to think you’re now well on your way to having grandkids.”

“Blaytz, it’s my niece, not my daughter, getting married today.”

“Oh,” Blaytz replied. He then gave Alfor another hard pat on the back. “Well that means you’re well on your way to having grand nephews and nieces.”

“Indeed.”

In a nearby tent Lance was putting the final touches to his outfit. It was a suit of armour but far more impressive than his normal attire. Not only was it more intricately made and bore his family crest and the metal was gleaming. He attached his clock and gave himself a final look over as Hunk let out a whistle of approval.

“Not gonna lie buddy,” He said. “You’ve never looked better.”

“Come on Hunk, you know I look good in anything.”

“Really? How about that time you lost that bet and had to wear that Snargle herder outfit?”

“Alright,” Lance conceded. “I look good in most things.”

“Though Hunk’s not wrong little brother,” Luis said. “You’ve never looked better.”

Lance smiled as the men present nodded in agreement. It was no surprise that Hunk was chosen to be best man. Filling out the ranks of Groomsmen were his two brothers Luis and Marco as well as Matt.

“Alright you’re ready,” Hunk declare. “Now before go out there I want you to remember three things. I love you, I’m proud of you and if you screw this up I’ll never forgive.”

“Love you too,” Lance replied as they gave each other a hug.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Everyone turned and saw Shiro enter the tent. “Just wanted to make sure you were almost ready. We’re starting soon.”

“Shiro!” Lance exclaimed. “How do I look?”

“Really good. Though there is one thing missing.”

“Really? What?”

“This.” Shiro pulled out a small box. He opened it to reveal a medal.

“Is that…?”

“Lance McClain, You have served Altea and the Crown diligently and nobly. You have upheld the principles this world is found on and are an example for others to aspire to. As your Captain I could not be prouder. In recognition of your continued service and valor, It is my honour to present you with the Star of Mefral.”

Lance was dumbfounded as Shiro pinned the medal on to the breastplate of his armour.

“There will be a formal ceremony for it later on but I thought it would only be right that you get to wear it on your wedding day.”

“Wow, Shiro this is amazing, thank you,” Lance stated. “Though is it wrong to say this is only the second best thing to be happening to me today.”

Shiro smirked as he gave Lance a pat on the shoulder. “There’d be something wrong with you if that wasn’t your response. Now all of you finish up. The last thing we want is to make this man late for his own wedding.

Once they all were prepared they stepped out and headed to the altar. As Lance walked up aisle he got various hugs and handshakes (in the case of Blaytz a high five) from the people he walked passed. He lingered with his parents, hugging them tightly as they told him how proud they were.

As he made it to the Altar, he turned his attention towards the Gombash.

“Gommy! I’m glad you could make it.”

Gommy trilled happily as he leaned in to briefly nuzzle Lance.

“Alright then,” Lance declared. “Razzle Dazzle Time!”

[hr]

The under the shade of the Father Tree, the female party was set up in a tent doing the final preparations.

“There, finished,” Veronica stated as she put down the makeup brush. “Take a look.”

Pidge stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She wore an elegant flowing emerald dress. Atop her head was a tiara more detailed than her usual one.

“You look amazing,” Allura commented.

“She had better,” Veronica stated. “Lance would never let me hear the end of it if I got the makeup wrong.”

For the bridal party Allura was Maid of honour with the positions of bridesmaids going her cousin Mia as well as Lances sisters Veronica and Rachel. Pidge’s mother and father entered the tent.

“Pidge you look amazing,” Samuel stated.

“Thanks Dad.” Pidge replied.

“How do you feel?” Colleen asked.

“Good,” Pidge replied, when Colleen raised a skeptical eyebrow Pidge amended. “Absolutely terrified but I love Lance and want to be with him.”

Colleen smiled as she gave her daughter a hug.

Finally the bridal party was all prepared but before they left Pidge asked for a moment to do one last thing.

She walked up to Father Tree and placed a hand on the trunk. Her markings glowed as she connected with the ancient tree.  

“So what do you think old timer, am I doing the right thing?”

In reply there was a low rumble and the sensation of the ground shifting beneath her. Suddenly two roots shot out from either side of Pidge. The roots then ran along ground, creating a path that was clearly heading towards the lake. The flowers then burst out of the roots to decorate the path.

“Well,” Pidge commented. “I can’t argue with that.”

There were more than a few gasps of surprise as two roots grew out from the forest. The roots ran up the either side of the aisle, stopping just short of the altar before beautiful flowers burst out of the roots.

“You think this is Pidge’s handiwork?” Hunk asked.

“Actually I think it might be an old timer giving his blessing,” He bent down to give one the roots a pat. “Thanks Pappy.”

The root wrapped around Lances hand and squeezed lightly before releasing it. Lance stood back up and got into position as the music started. Everyone in the audience got their feet as the bridal party entered from forest.

Pidge lead the way, her flowing green dressing glowing with golden symbols. Allura carried the train as they exited the forest but released it as they got to the platform. The audience looked on in awe as Pidge walked up the aisle. Lance looked on in unbridled joyed.

The bride arrived at the altar and as she clasped hands with the groom the two became lost in each others eyes.

Hunk meanwhile had become misty-eyed and muttering to himself to “keep it together”.

Coran on the other hand was bawling his eyes out.

King Alfor allowed the couple a brief moment before he began the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Lance and Katie in holy matrimony. which is an honorable estate. This is not an institution that they have decided to enter lightly but out of their love and devotion for each other.Ifany one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

At that moment the Gombash raised himself to his full height and glared down at the audience.

“Although you may have to answer to him,” King Alfor added dryly.

This earned a chuckle from the audience, some more nervous than the rest. When it was clear no one was going to object, the Gombash settled back down.

“The union two souls is a moment great joy and celebration. It is with great pleasure that I now ask you two take these vows.”

“Lance, do you take Katie as your wife? To love and cherish for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Katie, do you take Lance as your husband? To love and cherish for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Then it is my honour, as ruler of Altea, to now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As Lance and Pidge kissed, the audience erupted in applause.

[mst3kproject]

1109: Yongary: Monster from the Deep

 The first time I saw Yongary was when I was on a Kaiju Eiga binge over Christmas break one year.  It was on YouTube, with the sound removed for copyright infringement, and no subtitles.  At the time, this didn’t bother me much.  I thought I’d seen enough weird monster movies that I could guess what was going on from the visuals.  It turned out I really couldn’t.  Even now that I’ve seen it with sound, I’m still not sure what happened in this movie.

Korea’s top astronaut has just gotten married when he’s called off to a space emergency – somebody is testing bombs in the middle east and they need a guy in space to watch it.  The bombing causes earthquakes that cross the globe until they reach Korea, where the ground cracks open to reveal, what else? An oddly rubbery and humanoid monster!  Yongary proceeds to devastate the land, as oddly rubbery and humanoid monsters do, feeding on oil and taking an occasional nap, until the astronaut’s very much younger brother (I think) Icho and future brother-in-law (again, I think) Ilo discover its one weakness: itching powder.

So yeah, there’s a lot to unpack here.

If Yongary has a visual aesthetic, it’s empty pockets and boundless enthusiasm.  The production appears to have had very little money and they spread it very thin, resulting in effects that are shoddy and unconvincing across the board… and yet, the people who created them went all-out, absolutely determined to wring every last jeon out of their budget.  The monster suit never looks like anything but a monster suit, but they never shy away from showing it.  The model cities are large and elaborate, even as they lack detail or realistic lighting. Shots showing earth from space look like a seventh grade science fair project.  The matte shots are bad.  The itch ray is just light reflected onto things with a mirror.  It all looks terrible, but their hearts were in it.

Unfortunately, not half so much effort appears to have gone into the script, which wanders from character to character in a series of events that are connected only by the monster, and sometimes only barely.  A number of things are set up as if they’re going to be very important and then are simply dropped, leaving the impression that they were only there to fill time.

What, for example, is the point of the space sequence?  They drag the astronaut (whose name I never caught in the movie, and IMDB is no help) away from his honeymoon to observe this nuclear test.  Some kind of failure on the spaceship, perhaps related to said test, puts him in danger but after much worry he reaches the ground safely.  Wow!  Our hero is a great pilot with nerves of steel!  Surely this will be very important later.  Maybe he will be called to do something dangerous to defeat the monster!  Maybe something he saw from space, while he was out of touch with the ground, will be key to saving the day!

Uh, no.  He’s not even in the rest of the movie, really, and we certainly never hear tell of the space program again.  As far as I can tell, the only purpose to any of this was establishing the nuclear test (because everybody knows those create monsters) and then trying to have some tension before Yongary actually emerges.  The whole sequence was filler.

Then there’s the itching ray, which first appears in the hands of little Icho as he plays a prank on the newlyweds.  Exactly why Ilo has invented an itching ray, I don’t know.  Was it intended to do something else and just ended up being itchy?  When Icho swipes it again to use on Yongary, I figured maybe a souped-up itch ray would turn out to be what kills the monster but again, no.  The itching ray doesn’t even set up anything important. I think it’s foreshadowing that itching is Yongary’s weakness, but the ray has nothing to do with the chemical allergy that brings the monster down, besides manifesting a similar symptom.

The fact that itching appears in the movie in more than one context probably makes it a motif.  Why, out of all the possible themes and symbolism you could put in a movie, the makers of Yongary chose itching, I have no idea.  Perhaps it represents something below the surface trying to break free, like the monster itself?  If that’s the case, then it’s fitting that the source of the itching is always externally imposed: the ray and Yongary’s allergy induce itching, and the nuclear test makes the earth ‘itch’ so that Yongary breaks out.  Whether this means anything deeper than that, I honestly cannot say.

Itching brings us to Icho.  I’m pretty sure Icho is the actual main character of this story.  He’s there at the beginning, he’s there at the end, and he’s the one who realizes what the monster’s weakness is.  He even has a bit of an arc, I guess… he’s nothing but an insufferable brat at the beginning of the film, and while he continues to be bratty throughout he does develop a more mature outlook, coming to understand the need for Yongary’s destruction while still feeling sorry for the monster.

Icho is clearly supposed to have some kind of emotional bond with Yongary, but this is completely one-sided and even less justified than Kenny’s supposed friendship with Gamera.  Whereas Gamera saved Kenny from falling to his death, I don’t think Yongary ever even notices Icho – which is probably all for the best, since Icho is doing things like turning off his food supply and zapping him with itching rays.   Icho’s defense of Yongary is also a little more realistic than Kenny’s of Gamera. He never insists that Yongary is good and gentle, only that the monster didn’t mean to hurt anybody.  This is probably true.  Yongary is not presented as a creature with a personality or intentions, he is merely a force of nature, doing what giant rubber monsters do.  He does not seem capable even of understanding that he is causing suffering.

What’s kind of interesting about this is that it makes it clear that Gamera, rather than Godzilla, was the primary inspiration for Yongary.  The monster emerges as a result of a nuclear bombing that is never mentioned again. It eats oil and is strengthened by fire. Annoying little kids like it for no readily apparent reason.  As an attempt to create a Kaiju franchise in 1967, when the genre was already well-established, it was probably inevitable that Yongary would look like a ripoff of something, but the choice of Gamera for a model seems particularly weird when we consider the ending.  At the end of Gamera, the monster was sent to Mars where he would presumably continue to live without bothering humanity.  This is pretty cool and appeals to children.

In Yongary, the monster dies of internal bleeding while Icho watches.  This doesn’t seem to have bothered Icho but it sure disturbed Jonah and the bots, and once I saw it in a context where I understood what was happening, it made my jaw drop, too.  When I think back on the deaths of monsters in Kaiju Eiga, they tend to be fairly quick affairs: in Godzilla, King of the Monsters, the oxygen-destroyer pretty much instantly skeletonizes things.  Even bad-guy monsters tend to die or be driven off in one final blow or finishing move, as when Gamera throws Gaos into the volcano.  When the monsters visibly suffer, like Gamera with the baby Jiger inside him, or Anguirus when Godzilla rips his tongue out, it’s shocking and unpleasant.  Maybe this is because we think of these movies as being for children, or perhaps it’s the unavoidable anthropomorphic shape of the creature suits.  Whatever the reason, Yongary’s death is a major tonal departure and the ‘happy ending’ that follows it makes it even weirder.

I know basically nothing about the geography of Korea, but people who do have apparently written a great deal about how important the landscape is to Yongary.  According to critic Steve Ryfle, Yongary emerges in the northern part of Korea, near where the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed in 1953 – this makes him perhaps symbolic of aggression from the north, marching inexorably down the peninsula towards Seoul.  Korean critic Kim Songho noted that Yongary destroys the old Seoul Capital building, a symbol of the Japanese occupation of Korea before and during World War II (the building was knocked down in the 90s for this reason).

Using your giant monster to make a political statement, particularly an anti-war or anti-colonial one, is nothing new, but I don’t think the makers of Yongary intended a unified one by this.  The two political messages in the landscape seem opposed to each other: one paints Yongary as a semi-foreign force of aggression, the other as a native being destroying a symbol of foreign aggression.  This isn’t a problem for me, the non-Korean viewer, and the two ideas work fine when they’re each considered in isolation, but they do speak to the overall lack of unity in the script.

That lack of unity is probably the biggest single obstacle to enjoying Yongary for what it is, rather than the ironic amusement people like me get out of bad movies.  The jarring ending, the space program that is set up and then not used, and the inconsistent symbolism all make Yongary: Monster from the Deep feel like something assembled from parts rather than being a coherent whole.  All movies are made by committees, but a good movie shouldn’t feel like it was.

[thatdragonsdrabbles]

Roburcus, The Treeborn Prince

[Finally, after all of the hype to my friends that I tortured with updates on my progress, I finished this dive into fantasy. Here’s to hoping that you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! And yes, there will be more. I just wrote so much setup that I felt the need to break it up into parts.]

Fem reader x Roburcus

It was the rocking of the carriage gradually slowing to a halt that woke you. It had been hard to nap, but you’d needed it.

Rubbing away sleep, you chanced a look through the window, to see how much had changed outside. Massive trees, larger than you had ever thought possible, dotted the plains you traveled now. Wooden pathways wound up their trunks, leading to what looked like entire villages that even from this distance clearly glowed and bustled. Some were isolated villas, but a few trees were close enough for their vast branches to intertwine, allowing citizens to move between them with ease.

You hadn't realized just how intrinsically tied these people were to nature. You hardly knew anything about them. Just what else would you have to discover as you went?

Just this morning, you had been escorted from your castle into the finest limousine by your mother and your entourage. Before sending you off, she had kissed your forehead, reminded you of your duties, and given you her blessing and love. The jewel earrings were her final gift, and you touched them now and thought of her.

The limousine had eventually been exchanged for this strange floating carriage, clearly enchanted by this land’s magic. Now you were an ant amongst towering blades of grass. And ahead, just past this checkpoint, lied the winding road that led to the largest of them all, growing a mighty castle amidst its branches.

A great kingdom awaited you. But you were not so sure you wanted to see it.

Details on these lands and its people had been difficult to come by, besides what little your mother had elaborated on for this arranged marriage. They were tuned to the shifting forces of nature, incredibly powerful, and largely benevolent and peaceful. From what you had heard through the grapevine, however, they were described as massive beasts, with gaping maws and claws meant to rend flesh. They tended to the trees in order to bury their foes beneath them. These rumors had kept you up at night, you were ashamed to admit. Had you been betrothed to a monster?

You couldn’t have even confirmed or disproved these fears, as they rarely stepped foot outside of their borders. This marriage had been arranged before you were even born; you had become aware of it on your eleventh birthday. You traveled now on the day after your twenty-second, adhering to some strange customs of theirs. Yet another mystery to the pile.

Peering up at the lofty leaves, capable of covering your carriage if they fell, you once again grew angry. You loved and trusted your parents, but why hadn’t they ever explained anything to you? They had met with these people ages ago! They knew exactly what they were like! Why had they kept so tight-lipped about them? You hadn’t even gotten to meet your fiancé before being shipped off to marry him! And your mother had given you a task, to learn this people’s secrets to longevity for your homeland. If they knew them enough to barter your hand, why couldn’t they have discovered that themselves?

This was absolutely ridiculous!

You fumed in silence for a time, only broken by the tittering of the servants sent with you on this journey. The two of them had kept quiet as you slept, but began fussing over your appearance as best they could in a vehicle.

“Put on a brave smile, my lady,” Kari told you, gently mopping your brow. “This is the big day.”

“We are with you to the end.” Despite saying this, Jos was wringing his wrists. He was nervous, so far from everything any of you knew, yet he smiled for you. You tried to return the gesture, but felt it was more of a grimace.

“Thank you—both of you.”

You would have to show them that you were worthy of their servitude. Straightening your spine, you began to psych yourself up for what might be an exhausting, terrifying welcome into these lands. But you weren’t going to cower, and you weren’t going to be cowed. You were royalty. Just because your betrothed might be a horrific monstrosity didn’t mean you weren’t going to give this your best damn shot. You’d get the information your mother desired, conduct yourself appropriately as a queen-to-be, and prove your worth to both of these kingdoms.

And so your carriage began its slow crawl up the path that slithered towards your fate, deep within the kingdom of beasts.

Finally, you were ushered in through the front gates. Jos and Kari kept close, both to shield you from stares and for their own peace of mind. You lifted your chin, unwilling to bow even to the thin birdfolk who worked the massive door.

But you had to look downwards to keep your eyes on the strange short creature that confessed themself your escort. They seemed almost human, except for their pointed ears and the thick mane of moss-like hair. Jos muttered something, and they snorted.

“Tha’s a term ye shouldn’ use ‘round ‘ere, seedling!” They leaned in to stage-whisper. “‘S a mite offensive, y’know!”

Jos shrunk away, growing pale. “S-sorry!”

“He didn’t mean any offense,” Kari squeaked.

The creature’s gaze was piercing, making the two servants squirm. But before you could step in, they tilted their head back to laugh at the canopy, slapping the two’s calves. “Jus’ pullin’ yer legs, seedlings! ‘Sall I c’n reach, ‘n an old sprout’s gotta ‘ave ‘er kicks some’ow. C’mon, then! This way!”

When you frowned at him, Jos ducked his head. “Didn’t know it—she—could hear me… Her kind—whatever it is—has good hearing.”

“‘N donchu forget it!”

He ducked further. Poor man, already so rattled. It made you more determined to keep your composure. You offered him a reassuring smile, before you all began following the rather talkative creature that called herself “Moss.” It actually helped to have such a chatty escort. You felt less like a prisoner and more like a guest, despite the stares your arrival received.

The structure you were brought into had fine detailing in the wood, so delicate that the arches appeared to have grown into them naturally. Light filtering through the leaves felt soothing, a brief warmth in the relative coolness of the shade. You waded through creatures of all sorts: Bodies decorated or covered in feathers, wisps, scales, talons, fur, and even leaves and bark. Moss, in her ramblings, pointed out a tree nymph that was her second-cousin in the market, whose hair swayed like a palm in an absent breeze. When he caught you staring, his hair shifted to cover his face before he suddenly disappeared. Had he melted into the wall?

“He’s a shy ‘un,” Moss laughed, hanging upside down from a lamp. Instead of electricity or even flames, it was a wooden mesh housing fireflies. How curious.

The deeper you went, the darker your surroundings became, requiring more of these lamps and other means to light your way. The rare, likely intentional, beams of sunlight let in through the layered branches became spotlights, highlighting a lively tavern or a fae playground, or passing through artful arrangements such as a mosaic of insect wings and carapaces. An ethereal being using what could only be described as an arcane comb touched up a string of glowing orbs, draped across the branches overhead. Every time Moss paused to point something out or flap her gums, fireflies drifted from nearby lamps to hover about her. Her own little entourage.

There was so much to take in that you weren't surprised when your servants had many stops and starts, but you couldn't dally. No doubt the royalty here—including your fiancé—already knew of your arrival, and you weren't going to give a bad impression by gawking or lollygagging.

After all, you had plenty of years ahead of you in this foreign place. There would be time enough.

The smooth, winding path Moss led you on brought you to another set of massive doors, decorated with flowers and crawling with endemic life, which was opened by a much larger birdfolk. Their build and feathers reminded you of an owl, if a more intimidating one. You had always thought of them as symbols of wisdom, not protection. You supposed there was much about this land’s culture you didn't know, yet. The owl’s eyes watched, unblinking, until the doors shut behind you. But your escort once again drew your attention as she hung upside-down from the fork of a nearby branch. Her laughter twinkled.

“Ye ready t’see yer prince?” Despite your attempt to remain professional, she snorted at your expression. “Dun look too eager, now.” She swung up to sit and kick her feet, gesturing you onward. Evidently, her job was finished.

At the trepidation your servants showed (and you hid) she promised, “Ye ‘ave nothin’ t’worry ‘bout, seedlings. I dunno wha’ place ye wer sown, but yer in good soil now. Kip, kip!” Before anyone could ask for more detail, she leapt from her perch, snagging the talons of two songbirds that carried her into the canopy and out of sight.

“Didn't even say farewell,” Jos muttered. “Odd bird, that one.”

From overhead came a cheerful, “Sparrows, actually!” He shrunk and scowled at the laughter, face burning. He had forgotten about her hearing. Kari giggled, and you hid your smile by glancing around. You were to go on alone?

There were several individuals in this courtyard, but only a few within speaking distance, and only one that looked expectant. Going on a hunch, you approached the raccoon standing on a nearby stump—a strange sight, you thought, for a castle grown from a massive tree. You were pleased to find the beast mirrored your nod, seeming far more intelligent than the ones at home.

“I am here to meet the prince,” you told it, tone even. “I am to be his wife.”

Your servants exchanged looks. The words felt like acorns on your tongue. But your reward was the animal climbing up the vines covering the ornate wall behind it. It went along the top, stopping to check that you followed. So you did, thinking this was the strangest reception you have ever been given as royalty. First a nature spirit, and now a raccoon? You had an interesting story for your first letter home.

“This is ridiculous,” Jos murmured.

Kari rapidly patted his shoulder, breathing, “But sort of exciting! It's a massive tree-house—no, tree-castle! I've never seen such a thing!”

“Built to last—or, grown to last,” you commented, eyeing the thick wooden walls that twisted into or from massive bowers. “Behind such a long trek and thick foliage, invasion is difficult.”

Jos looked at your feet. “Unless someone dropped a match...”

“I doubt they would overlook something so important.”

He still seemed unconvinced. Conversation stilled when the raccoon disappeared into a tree hollow above a decorated wall. You waited for several beats, but it didn't return. Staring at the barrier, you tuned out your servants' mutters as you pressed a hand over the large knot design. It had details so fine, only the thinnest of needles would fit in the crevices. It all formed an intricate ecosystem, depicted as a massive life-giving tree crowned by the moon, the sun, and a star. And at the very bottom of it all was the tiniest seed, the unexpected catalyst to the flourishing of so much life...

You couldn't help touching it, and you feared you had ruined priceless art when it sunk into the wood. No, it was the design itself shifting, causing the “seed” to sprout and crack the tree in two. The halves swung apart, and you found yourself face-to-snout with a dogfolk. Their scarred lip curled faintly. They tapped their wooden staff upon the moss-covered floor, and the raccoon found its way to their shoulder, staring at you once again.

“The Woodborn King and his son have been waiting.” The dog's voice was gruff, but she offered her companion a snack almost tenderly.

Still, her words rankled. They had been waiting? I've waited my entire life to get my answers! You strode forward into the small room, Jos and Kari following more meekly. You wouldn't let this dog's bared teeth frighten you. She wouldn't dare hurt you.

Another tap of her staff, and the floor heaved beneath your feet. Shocked, you grabbed Kari's arm as your attention was pulled downward—and then upward. This was a platform, enchanted the same as the carriage had been! Without engine or pulley, it floated up through a hollowed section of trunk. Patches of moss began to glow within a certain distance, illuminating the space oddly. You released Kari, allowing Jos to cling to her as you straightened your spine.

This was it. The moment all of your parents' planning and training had been leading up to. You would gaze upon your fiancé's features for the very first time. Your fingers found your earrings once again.

The lift didn't lead directly into the throne room, not that you had expected it to. You were let out at a hallway that led up to another decorated door, this one featuring a claw dropping a seed. You eyed its talons, imagining what horrific creature could be attached to it. In another light, the seed might also have been a drop of blood. How ominous.

But this wouldn't shake your resolve. You stepped forward and pushed the doors open, ignoring the guard entirely. The sunlight blinded you, unexpected after such a long journey through gentle shades and that dark tunnel. You paused to get your bearings, blinking rapidly.

“Ah,” came a voice, like wind through leaves. “Welcome home, my child.”

You finally rubbed the tears away, hearing Jos gasp at your side. The dogfolk had moved to precede you, appearing miffed that you had just barged in. But your triumph was quickly overshadowed with awe as you gazed upon the blooming thrones at the head of the room, and the two beings sat there.

Even from here, you knew they were much taller than you; you were certain you could lie across the larger one's shoulder, and still have room to stretch. Indeed, his claw could wrap completely around you, and crush you, if he saw fit. His body was the color of a fading sunset, scales layered as leaves on the forest floor. Five brown horns twisted around and behind his head like branches, two even sporting beard lichen. You realized suddenly that, though most of the passages you had been going through were rather spacious, there was no feasibly way for this individual to fit through them. He was draped in silk that burned in the light, appearing as ancient autumn made manifest.

And if he was autumn, then the other was surely spring. His scales were colored like fresh sprouts, with darker patches across his snout and shoulders. His horns were far less pronounced, but held a more vibrant earthy hue, and were decorated with a flowering crown. His silks were colored as a sky that nourished the plants below, seeming to shift as he straightened in his seat. He was much closer to a size capable of walking about the lower levels, but he still likely had a few heads on you. Was this your fiancé? His gaze was piercing, rooting you to the spot. You had seen emeralds with less luster.

The dogfolk cleared her throat. “Princess of Humans, I introduce you to the Lifegiver, and the—”

A yelp from behind finally ripped you out of the prince's trance. Jos was flailing his arms, trying to keep his balance as Moss stood on his head. Judging by the leaves drifting around him, she had dropped from the branches above.

Posing, she shouted, “Hear ye, hear ye! This 'ere 's The King of Branches 'n his sprout! All hail their invigoratin' grapevines!”

Part One (you are here!) | Part Two (TBA)

[vorthosjay]

Let’s Talk About The Flood

It’s back! Magic Story has returned strong with a very character-driven story in The Flood. Fair warning, it has some rather uncomfortable moments from Jace’s memories, including torture. Honestly, though, it’s the best story from a character perspective since Release last year, and addresses basically all the criticisms of Jace’s character.

Flood of Recollections by Magali Villeneuve

"Kumena," a voice whispered from the golden walls. "Kumena the Shaper, child of the Great River, leader of your people. Come set me free."

Could it be? All this time, the golden city was a prison, not a stronghold?

YES.

If you all remember, one of my very first ideas was that Ixalan was some kind of prison. I still love that theory, and knowing that something there was worth Azor giving up his spark to create the Immortal Sun is fascinating.

"There is power here, Kumena. The power that was intentionally designed . . . but also an additional, inert power. A still pond. A mirror in darkness. It can do nothing . . ."

". . . without my own power to reflect," Kumena finished. "Is that it?"

"Follow," said the voice, and the many golden reflections of Kumena's own face echoed it. "Follow."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Sun, Kumena. As you will be. Follow."

This is fascinating. Is this the power of the Immortal Sun? The Threefold Sun? Something different?

I wonder if perhaps the Threefold Sun is merely a reflection of the power of the Sun Empire from centuries before, and if that will change now that others are in charge.

For instance, Blood Sun might be about the Vampires taking control.

"How about two?" she teased. "What do you say, Mavren Fein?" she tossed over her shoulder.

Did she have to use his full name? The full name is meaningless to Kumena and presumably they already know each other so this just feels like a nod to the audience.

The man dropped to one knee. He gripped Jace's hair in a shiny metal fist.

"I'm going to make damn sure you learn from this debacle."

Vraska watched as the man pulled up Jace's shirt and dragged a manablade in long, arrow-straight lines down his back, then one single line down his right forearm. She cringed in horror as Jace screamed.

This is straight from Agents of Artifice. Jace is supposed to be protecting Tezzeret’s mind from Bolas during a negotiation. Nicol Bolas distracts Jace through a mental conversation enough so that he’s able to pierce into Tezzeret’s mind, and they both have to escape his minions.

Upon returning, Tezzeret tortures Jace for his failure.

The shaman leaned over the teenager and drew a line with his finger down Jace's cheek, leaving a brilliant white tattoo in its place. He continued on his chin and arm, and Vraska watched as the shaman diligently painted a braver face on the nervous teenager's own.

She caught a glimpse of the paper the shaman was referencing. A series of symbols was hastily sketched on it—symbols she recognized from this Jace's future cloak. An elongated ring, open at the bottom, with a circle floating in the middle. She wondered what its significance was.

This is new. For everyone wondering how and when Jace got his tattoos, here it is!

Vraska's heart ached. This was so bad, but he was too far lost to pull back the curtain of affection and see the bored cruelty of her intentions.

The entire Fireplace scene is so perfect it hurts. Seeing the relationship through the eyes of an outsider absolutely hammers home how terrible Liliana is to Jace. I don’t want to post more of it because everyone needs to read it.

A distant roar interrupted her. Vraska froze, alarmed by the immense noise in the distance. She stood and stared in the direction it had come from. It was most certainly a dinosaur, but of a size she did not know they could reach.

A woman's face. Her skin was peachy and flecked with freckles, her chestnut hair pulled back from her tired eyes. She was reading to her toddler from a notebook as she wandered the tiny kitchen, excitedly explaining a new healing technique while peeling vegetables for dinner. A peel fell onto the page like a bookmark.

Jace’s mom stuff is pretty heartwarming. That Jace lost this is distressing.

She saw how this mentor had betrayed him, had manipulated and molded him into a tool to be used rather than a student to be taught.

This is a slight retelling of Absent Minds, from an outsider’s point of view.

Alhammarret had ruined him, abused him, torn his mind apart time after time, but what the sphinx was suffering now was a fate worse than death. Alhammarret deserved to perish, but no one deserved this.

This is nice to acknowledge. Jace’s mental abilities are terrifying and losing your identity, in a multiverse where souls definitely exist, is a fate worse than death.

"You're an assassin," he stated as the memory settled into place.

"And a friend," she responded plainly, sadly.

Jace's awareness was distant. He may have found a way to prevent his memories from spilling out again, but he was visibly struggling to his thoughts internally. His voice remained hollow. "Emmara. Nissa. I have so few friends . . ."

Good for you, Jace. With most of your memory back, you know you have no room to judge, and can desperately use friends.

He shook his head gingerly. "It's not all back. There are gaps. I don't remember how I lost my memory, or how I got here."

And here’s the hole presumably Azor is going to fill.

"I would have listened if you had explained why." He shifted uncomfortably. "The people you killed to get my attention back then . . ."

"A murderer, a defiler, and a trafficker of innocents, with names that sounded like planes." She shrugged and shook her head firmly. "I don't regret their deaths, but I do regret thinking it was the only way to get you to listen to me."

"I forgive you for trying to kill me," Jace said softly and honestly in return. "You were doing what you thought was right for your people."

Neither of them could think of anything to say after that.

It’s also nice to address the change in tone from Vraska’s original appearance in The Gorgon and the Guildpact. Vraska isn’t ‘good’, but she’s not a killer of innocents, either. I notice they didn’t address her killing her own minion, though. That might be a retconned detail.

He had gone from child prodigy to spy to victim only to have it all forcibly exorcised from his heart and mind. He had turned, lost and afraid, to people who preyed on the lost and afraid. He had been tortured, ignored, manipulated, and despite it all he was, nevertheless, intact. He had survived.

He was remarkable.

"I've never known a version of myself with my memories unimpaired," Jace said, breaking his silence with weary honesty. "So many people manipulated me into hurting so many people. And sometimes I've done it of my own volition. It was so easy."

We’ve never known a version of Jace like this, either. It’s great to see recognition of Jace’s faults not just being because of what happened to him, too.

"No one ever chooses to be a victim," Vraska interjected. "You are not weak because you were taken advantage of. And the cruelty of what they made you do reflects on them, not you." 

This is a good statement.

"You weren't that out of shape when I last saw you," Vraska teased.

"You're ignoring how often I used to use illusions to make myself look like I was in shape."

Her brows shot up. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah," Jace acknowledged. His expression was unguarded, eyes still red from emotion, a lighthearted tilt to his lips. Unapologetically human. He grinned. "I used to be a coward."

He let Not anymore hang unspoken in the air between them, and Vraska caught his smile as he turned to ascend the golden staircase toward Orazca, one strong step after another.

This is both hilarious (because who wouldn’t use illusions to make themselves look buff), and a great turn. The acknowledgement of his own flaws, of his own weaknesses, and his decision to overcome them instead of hide behind them are fantastic. Huge props on the character development in this piece.

[hellyeahomeland]

[Hi! We’re back. We haven’t done a Director’s Chair feature since “R is for Romeo” so please bear with us as we get back into the swing of it. This week’s episode was directed by Michael Klick, who has been a producer on the show since the very beginning and directed his first episode last year (“The Flag House,” which you can read our Director’s Chair feature on here). The DP for this episode was Giorgio Scali, who, along with David Klein, heads up the photography department on the show.] 

“Standoff” | Directed by Michael Klick

The episode opens not with a shot of Carrie’s face, but of her hands. Her manic energy--she’s restless and can’t stop fidgeting--is further highlighted by what we hear but don’t yet see: those signature Carrie Mathison huffs and puffs. The device reminded us of the reveal of manic Carrie in “The Vest,” as Saul hears her gradually loudening yelling about her green pen before the camera finally reveals her battered and bruised face.

Our first glimpse of the compound in this episode comes as the fleet of FBI vehicles approach. That yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag was a major symbol of the American revolution. Notably missing: the American flag.

Next, JJ and a clearly happy dog appear down one half of a forked road. This fork in the road, and the hesitation and impasse associated with that image, come to represent the main thematic elements of this episode, at least as it pertains to Saul and O’Keefe. These two men (themselves with massively divergent paths) face major decisions in this episode and their storyline is wrapped up in their “wait and see” approach to the brewing confrontation on the compound.

As Saul and JJ meet, we get the first of many medium or wide shots that Klick and Scali use in the episode, showing two characters in this kind of symmetrical yet combative stance. Saul’s on one side, and O’Keefe and his “army” are on the other.

We also got some season one vibes from the scene of Carrie and Maggie in Maggie’s kitchen. Carrie’s ensuing panic attack and Maggie’s calm brings us back to the end of “Blind Spot” when Carrie shows up on Maggie’s doorstep, distraught.

Sara’s notes here were simply “cool ass shots.” We don’t really have much more to say but the focus shift in this scene from O’Keefe to Saul was some fancy camerawork. Kudos!

As this is our first Director’s Chair for season seven, let’s talk about how they’re shooting Keane this season. Namely, it’s exactly the same as they shot her last season! Tons of close-ups where she’s just inches away from her adversary (or advisor, as it were) -- literally mano a mano. The camera angle even contributes to the power dynamics at play here, as they typically film Keane slightly from below, so it appears she’s looking down on Wellington.

Keane has always been shown as a principled, rigid politician when it comes to her policies. What’s changed, of course, is what those policies are. The way she talks to Wellington here is almost identical to how she talked to Dar Adal last year: perpetually in confrontation mode, and never backing down.

Nothing to add here but what do we think is in the box in Carrie’s closet labeled “GREY”? All of her grey pantsuits? Her Grey’s Anatomy DVD boxsets? PROP MASTERS OF HOMELAND, PLEASE LET US KNOW.

~IJLTP~

Last year we evaluated the contents of Carrie’s refrigerator, and this season we’re getting even more personal. Just what the heck is in Josie Mathison-Dunn’s medicine cabinet? (Also, guess Bill’s last name is Dunn. We still want to call him Bill Mathison.)

First, some Mario Badescu Skincare products. Sara has literally never heard of this man. We have an aloe, cucumber, and green tea cucumber spray. Also an aloe, herbs, and rosewater facial spray. (Side note: what is “facial spray”? Sara has also never heard of this.) 

A bottle of Murad Razor Burn Rescue at the far left.

That tube in the middle with the happy-go-luck young woman is Benefit Pore Fessional Minimizer. Gail says this smells really good and works wonders. Sara has never heard of this product before but she does get her eyebrows waxed at the Benefit Cosmetics stores in NYC and really likes them and all the millennial pink and calm vibes there.

That tiny blue bottle next to the nail polish (speaking of nail polish, Sara calls BS that a teen as moody as Josie has bright pink and purple nail polish. WWDBD?) is Too Faced Shadow Insurance, which is some sort of eyelid primer. Once again, Sara has never heard of it and Gail hasn’t used it (“I’m a Smashbox girl!”). We do both love that the prop department found a product called “Too Faced.” We see what you did there.

Our thoughts on the cosmetic and facial care portions of Josie’s medicine cabinet can be described thusly:

Sara: I’m sorry but do teenage girls have this many products in their medicine cabinets? Is this a thing? Did she pick this up in Rome? Am I just that out of touch??

Gail: There is no way a teenage girl that owns a shadow primer only has one make-up brush in her arsenal. Sorry, not buying it.

Josie also has three meds in her cabinet. The first is Isotretinoin, which according to the world wide web is used for treating severe acne.

The second bottle is of course Adderall.

We think the third bottle is Methylphenidate (the generic name for Ritalin), which, like Adderall, is used to treat ADHD.

We get the second Carrie mirror shot in as many episodes. This is just one in a long trend on this show (i.e., it is the thirty-seventh but certainly not the last!). And while the mirror and hair length may change, the tone and meaning of them almost never does. She’s steeling herself here--for an inevitable crash, for another day of a waking nightmare, for the descent further into the rabbit hole.

The Saul/O’Keefe confrontation is notable for a few reasons. First, again Klick and Scali shoot almost the entire sequence in a series of medium or wide shots where both characters are contained in the shot yet standing opposite each other. There are almost no shot/reverse shot cuts where we see a frame of just Saul and then one of just O’Keefe. They are literally in a standoff.

The progression of their stance is also interesting. As Saul first approaches O’Keefe, he’s standing on the opposite side of the picnic table. As their conversation continues, he comes around to O’Keefe’s side and sits next to him.

The wider shots in this scene also reveal the imbalance at play and, in hindsight, hint at O’Keefe’s long game. Behind Saul, we see the FBI in the distance, ready to pounce. In a show of power, the FBI has numbers, large vehicles, and a coordinated presence. The playing field isn’t even. O’Keefe only has a handful of supporters, including some young children. Abandoned bicycles, an empty picnic table, and an over-turned red wagon depict a typical rural yard of an American family. This is not a war zone in some faraway place. The country is in a civil war and Klick sets the scene to drive this point home--literally.

Sara picked up on this facial reaction upon first viewing--after Dante says his bipolar ex-girlfriend left him--but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Gail chipped in with a simple explanation: it’s her appreciation of his empathy, which is not something she’s that used to in her daily life. Carrie still views her bipolar disorder as a reason not to be with her--those wounds may be buried, but they exist nonetheless. The jury remains out on whether Dante’s intentions are altruistic or not, but this moment was interesting nonetheless.

The sequence of Carrie resisting being booked was a powerful reminder of early season three, where she is restrained and drugged against her will (though as part of a larger “play”). When you combine this with the images we’ll see weekly in the opening credits, what does this tell us about the path Carrie’s going down?

Here we have yet another shot where the camera is shooting Keane from slightly above. This angle further illustrates the tension (they are literally not seeing each other “eye to eye”) and power dynamics of their relationship. It’s clear that Keane does not see them as equals (nor should she, to be honest).

With each episode this season, Carrie is more isolated and alone. Here she’s locked inside a sterile and dark room all by herself, bolstering her current estrangement from anything resembling a normal life. These shots especially call back to the end of “Tower of David,” when she’s crouched and alone in her room in the hospital. The combination of these images, their heavy parallel to past seasons, and Carrie’s comment to Maggie about a “locked ward” leads to a potent sense of foreboding.

This is a totally gorgeous shot--the blue and red in the background and the way Carrie is lit from behind. Sometimes this show is really visually arresting.

Klick and Scali film Carrie and Dante here just as they shot Saul and O’Keefe earlier in the episode. The wide shot with both characters in frame suggests the same adversarial “standoff” stance, and yet the moment itself seems on the surface healing and supportive. Have we mentioned the show is giving us mixed messages about Dante?

We don’t have to remind you all of the parallels between this scene and the one with Carrie and Quinn at the end of “Still Positive,” but we will anyway. Even the shed in the back is red!

The final shot of the episode, an absolutely beautiful wide shot, again depicts both characters in frame. Dante looks over at Carrie while she stares straight ahead. And despite the light in the background (Quinn’s “light on the headlands, steering [her] clear of the rocks”?), Carrie is still shown in the dark. Again we must ask, is there more going on with Dante than she realizes?

The score used at the end of this episode was originally used at the end of “The Star” (and later at the end of “The Man in the Basement”) when Carrie draws a star on the wall for Brody. The use of it in this scene, along with the visual callbacks to a famous scene with Quinn, combine to form a strange and eerie amalgam of Carrie’s past romances. Brody’s music and Quinn’s words. Where does Dante fit into this equation and what is the show trying to say? For now, those remain open questions.

Finally, the colors in this last shot--red, white, and blue--feel symbolic. Carrie is forever fighting for the country she loves--the country she feels an innate duty to protect--even to her own detriment. In this episode alone she sacrifices her mental health, yet again, to continue on with this battle. As the bright lights illuminate the sky against a brilliant backdrop of the colors of the American flag, the music viewers have come to associate with loss, broken promises, and missed chances swells. 

Our freedom doesn’t come free. And Carrie has chosen her price.

ETA: Ashley would like us to point out that we missed the Clean & Clear in Josie’s cabinet and that cabinets are entirely her domain for all future reference. We deeply and sincerely apologize, Ashley.

[capblacksails]

From the embers of the shadows in our pasts (a phoenix will rise)

Post-Canon. Silver-centered. John Silver is a lost man after having lost Madi. He goes to the only person he knows who understands his loss. And (un)surprisingly, here starts a journey full of love… (Includes also THE two scenes we’ve been robbed of in 4x10: James/John and Madi/John) (James/Thomas, James/John, John/Madi (past), Thomas&John) 

V. (continued)

About a week later, James knocks on John's door. John calls out "A minute", and when he opens the door James realizes he was busy attending his leg (his trousers obviously just put on hastily; a towel, a mirror and a bucket by the bed).

"I'll come back later."

"No need; I was done anyway."

John turns and walks back towards the bed, clearly expecting James to follow in.

So James enters; and sits on the floor against the wall, facing John's bed. (The bucket is on the chair, close to the bed, and James doesn't mind.)

"Everything all right?"

John was about to put the bucket on the ground, realises it's not necessary anymore and sits back on his bed, his eyes back on James.

"I've had worse - it's nothing. What brings you here?"

James seems to hesitate.

"There's something I'd like to discuss."

John nods.

"Sure."

Again, there's a pause, and John waits.

"I thought about the cache."

John nods again.

Another pause, and James finally lets it out.

"That hut you found... Would it have been high enough for Billy?"

John is confused.

"Billy? I thought he was dead? You told-"

James sighs.

"Well, technically, he fell from the top of the mast. It's a hell of a fall. I presumed. But you know the sea didn't take him once before. He might have survived yet again."

John searches through his memories.

"Well, Rackham could easily stand. So yeah, maybe. I guess indeed it wouldn't have been necessary for a shorter man to build that high. A tall man. Probable. English soldier or Billy. Who knows?"

"Most chances either way are the cache is in England then. Billy wouldn't have stayed close to Nassau, in case he'd run into someone. And an English soldier would have probably wanted to go home."

John is now looking at him with intent: "Are you hinting at what I think you're hinting at?"

James's voice turns somewhat desperate.

"I realize it's not much. But it's something. I'm sure you could make it enough to Oglethorpe."

John needs a moment. He actually closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens them back, James somehow wishes he hadn't: John looks locked-down, sealed shut; his face a hardened mask James recognizes all too well.

"You want me to go chase a ghost. Fine. I'll give it my best shot."

Become Long John again; move heaven and earth until he'd find a way to get them too out of here - or die trying, because, right now, John honestly does not feel strong enough yet. And if he fails? James loses too. That's a responsability John doesn't want to shoulder; but a responsability he will have to - because James asks him to; and a responsability he will most probably find unknown strengths to fight from; so maybe there is a chance, after all. And he owes James, and Thomas, to take it.

John then turns his attention to the items on his bed, and James can't help but feel that it's like he's already preparing to leave, and James doesn't know if he should shout or cry. It's unnerving how, for all the times they do understand each other without even a word, there are still so many times when they completely misread the other...

James slides once forward on the floor, until he's literally at John's foot. He feels like making physical contact, but as every time when it is not absolutely necessary, he refrains. No matter how close they've become, James can still count on his fingers the numbers of times he has actually touched John. It is peculiar, because John is often tactile. But not with him. James is unsure whether it comes from something he himself radiates, or from something inside John that is still somehow prudent around him, or both - but it just is; and James respects the limit, no matter what. He hasn't even crossed that line when he had been granted John out of the dead...

So James has to plead with his voice: "Look at me?" - and wait until John's eyes cross his again.

"I - we - don't expect anything from you. I just want you to know that you have a way out of here, whenever, if ever, you might be willing to take it. But what you do with that knowledge is entirely up to you."

James feels like he is incapable of breathing until knowing that John believes that there is nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

"I would, you know. If you'd ask me to."

It's but a whisper, but John's face is open again - and it only tears at James's heart too. His voice sounds broken to his own hears as he answers.

"I know."

And that's why James knows he won't ever ask.

Silence falls. They do not notice it, lost as they are in each others souls for a while. Maybe that's when they communicate the best anyway - wordlessly.

/

There is an ache in James's heart with John's name on it.

James is the land to Thomas's sun. It needs it to be alive - without it, it's empty, infertile, dead. Thomas completes him. He is the brightness to his darkness, the faith to his doubts, the certainty to his fears. But they are no contraries. They are complementory: Thomas is his other part. A key and its lock. A puzzle made of two pieces. That chinese symbol James saw once in one of Thomas's books, back in London. The two halves of one heart; of one soul. United, they are a whole; and apart, after having found each other - they just feel lacking. Together, they are a world in balance. Peace. Light.

But James is the sea to John's moon. It doesn't need it to be alive - the winds and currents make it dance to. But whenever the moon pulls? The sea complies. John is part of him. They connect, instinctively - no matter their differences and their misunderstandings. The two sides of a coin. Never to watch in the same direction, never to see each other, even, maybe. But they cannot get lose of the other, since they oddly but definitely became one, intrinsically tied to each other. So where one goes, the other follows - there is never balance. Clash of storms and yanking tides. Darkness.

And James knows the darkness. So he had been ashamed, when he had realised how much he had been tempted though, at some point in his own blackest hours, as he had finally started seeing John besides Silver, to keep John in the shadows with him - John couldn't miss a light he didn't know; and at least, they both wouldn't be alone. But right then? John had met Madi; and afterwards? James would never have wished to take him away from her light. Losing it was a feeling he had hoped John would never have to learn. And when they both had thought her lost - those few days? James had had proof that he had been right about what Madi was to him. And it had gutted him to his core to have to witness his loss.

James knows Madi was John's sun. His everything. His Thomas. That's why he had written that letter to Madi - John was giving him Thomas back; so James owed John a chance at having Madi back too. And knowing he has indeed repaid that debt, James feels redeemed, somehow. He has done right. But James still owes John - he will ALWAYS owe John now. Because John has saved his life; over and over, numerous times (that it had been for his own interest in the beginning doesn't change that fact). Because John gave him Thomas back, no matter the cost. And because Thomas is still alive and well and here with him; while Madi is gone - so soon; too soon - and John is back in the dark, alone; this time for good, and knowing what he misses. And James knows that feeling too.

Also: Thomas is James's standfast; he lifts him up, supports him. Thomas is a rock. Solid. Strong. Ever present. And Thomas survives, no matter what, barely altered. He has been mistreated, he has been brought down, again and again - but he is still bright, good, and strong. James had been awed, when he had realized how himself Thomas still was, no matter how much he had been wronged. James is sure though Miranda wouldn't have been. She knew him longer; she knew him better. Thomas was her sun too; and her faith in him was astounding. Maybe that's what had given her the strength to do as he had asked - protect him. But James knows now too. Thomas doesn't need him. Yet he has chosen to need him, and to keep needing him - and honestly the wonder in this feels like a gift from above James never felt worthy of, but is nothing but grateful for anyway.

But John? John endures. He's always been but a patched-up gaping wound, still bleeding under the bandage. Madi had been the one holding the bandage tight enough, day by day, for the wound to start to heal shut. But now that she's gone - and has actually taken the whole bandage away with her? John just bleeds out. So: John needs him.

And James obliges. James wants to help. Because he had had help; and no matter how much he had resented it - how much he had resented her - at the time, James knows he would have been utterly lost without it - and would have never lived long enough to get his second chance either... And so, he'll be John's missing leg. He'll be John's Miranda. He'll be whatever John needs him to be...

/

They do not mention it ever again.

But the next chance at a private conversation with Thomas he has, John makes Thomas promise what he couldn't ask James to promise - because he felt James would have found a way not to promise him anything. But Thomas is to ask him; if the moment ever comes this place grows unbearable to any of them. And Thomas promises.

.

Backstory:

James's moon tattoo is prior he met the Hamiltons. His mother (long dead) used to tell him his freckles were like stars; and when he went Navy and learned to navigate with the night sky he felt his 'nocturnal sky' skin missed a moon so he added one. It's related to his love for his mother and his love for navigation, so it's forever VALID.

Anyway, that's why in London, James used to see himself as the moon - because his skin was nocturnal (stars freckles and moon tattoo) and because it was the missing poetic spot in their triangle, so it made sense somehow even if it wasn't 100% accurate (because you bet his moon and thomas sun shone together and not apart) - because Thomas was the sun and Miranda was both the earth that grounded them and the sky that held them up.

(Feel free now to join the club 'Forever crying over Miranda'…)

.

And on the 'practical' side, I think it's due time I share my 'view' of The Shame Farm - just so you can imagine how they live, in this fic.

I won't say it's right - do not get me wrong. But I just don't believe it is the worst of evils.

Because I expected the reunion to happen in a tiny dark room; and it was out on the open - and they kissed, in 1700's, under the bright sunlight; and no one cared - not only about the kissing, but also about the stopping working.

Because there is a limit to how much one can lie to oneself; and that Oglethorpe is just too believing that he is better than most to actually be in fact just the same or even worse.

Because at this time, most nobles would always prefer death to slavery. Both for themselves and their relatives. So if they found this solution to be better than death, then it might be something else.

Because it is A COLLECTION. Maybe not one Oglethorpe can actually boost about, indeed; but one he relishes on in private, I'm sure. And what do you do with your collections? You take care of them. You keep them safe from harm. Because that's the only way to enjoy them for a long time.

Because if you're paid to keep someone, it's your job to KEEP. Some people may send emissaries from time to time to check how their relatives fare.

Because none of their clothes are rags, and none of them have marks from fresh physical abuse.

Because that text on the door can be interpreted in many ways, and that those can be contradictory.

Because with what Oglethorpe wins by selling his sugar/whatever grown by people he doesn't pay more than by feeding/clothing/etc them a minimum decently, and by taking a fee for 'interning', he is still easily richer than necessary, with the added luxury of a (from the time) quite clean conscience.

So, here is my vision of their daily life (overthinking?me?):

- there are separate spaces:

* the ones 'bought instead of being hanged', who are the most common and the most hard-working, probably (but not actually treated badly either). But knowing they escaped death, I figure it would mean something to them.

* the pregnant unmarried girls, who gets to stay at the house until the time comes and then are send back to their families - and the babies are entrusted to someone outside the farm, and are followed until they reach adulthood at least - to be able to give news, if ever ask

* the ones who are sold in - because their families are afraid or ashamed of them, aka the mentally crazy ones or the physically misformed, who needs intensive care and/or high security

* the ones who are sold in - mostly for being different; politic free-thinkers, against the king, against the rules, or gays, or atheists, or all of those at once, aka "the collection". The lords, captains and kings. They work too, because we're humans, and we need validation, we need to feel useful, so they have to have something to DO. But they have a softer treatment than the ex-convicts.

- there are guards, and they are armed. both for show (potential clients expecting to put someone here to stay expects armed guards) and for security (in case one of the 'crazy' goes on an accidental killing spree, to put it simply)

- they eat in common. and there are common spaces to wash.

- but they have private cells, like in a monastery. a bed, a chair, a table... simple, but private (maybe not all of them, the convicts have maybe dormitories. but 'the collection' does have private quarters.) (James and John were offered by inmates adjacent spaces, and they blocked a door and holed the separating wall (let's say it's mostly wood, so...) to make a common space. John has a cell for himself. And it always stays that way.)

- most are christian religious - occidental 1700's, right. so. they all have sunday off the fields. not that they don't have to work at all (they clean up, repair, whatever) but it's 'off'. there's also a church building, sort of. i'm not sure a true priest gets there every sunday (Oglethorpe might simply read from the bible too), but maybe once a month? once every 2 months? but they do get communion, if they want. and they get last sacraments; if they want, and if there is time for it.

So yep, that's out. It's a jail, no doubt. It's wrong, it's unfair - because most of the people here probably haven't in fact done anything truly wrong (Oglethorpe is not crazy, he's not gonna buy the early equivalent of Jack The Ripper, so I bet the convicts are mostly thieves who tried to steal from nobles in order to survive to start with), no doubt. But it's not THE WORST. And of course I would prefer to have them all out. Keeping them here HURTS me. But there are 20 f$#%#$g YEARS, and James DIED AT SAVANNAH "of old rhum" (= if he had escaped he wouldn't have stayed in the neighboorhood to start with, and the 'rhum' thing is because that's what people thought - because they knew he was captive), and I just can't throw it all out of the window, no matter how much I would want it, purely for commodity... So I just had to find a way to live with it - and THIS is it. I don't expect anyone to agree. But I just had to find a way to BEAR it a minimum, so please just don't burst my bubble?

[avivederi]

Race In George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead

Night of the Living Dead brought about so much discussion of race and racism even though the director, George Romero, had no intention of exploring that issue in his film. Not only was Duane Jones cast as the lead, but he was the only black character in the entire film. Romero’s casting decision made the film have many instances of racial symbolism without even intending to do so. In this blog post, I am going to talk about some of those instances where racism seems to be present, although not overtly.

One instance is the racial tension when Harry kept trying to assert dominance in the house where Ben and the others were taking shelter. Although Harry did not say anything that would be considered racist, it is obvious that the tension he feels with Ben stems from race. Harry clearly thinks that his ideas for survival are superior and keeps trying to prove it. It seems he doesn’t believe that Ben’s ideas for survival are up to par. Another example of how racism could be present between these two characters is that Harry behaved selfishly and wasn’t concerned at the fact that Ben could lose his life. When Ben was outside and trying to get back into the house, he banged on the door but Harry did not let him in, despite standing aside and watching him try to get in. It can be argued that Harry didn’t care to help Ben survive and didn’t care if he died because of racial bias that he had against him.

Another instance where racism could be present is in the scenes with Barbara and Ben. Barbara seems to be paralyzed with fear throughout most of the film, although it is unclear if she only fears the ghouls or if she fears Ben as well. Seeing as she looks at Ben with fear in her eyes, it could be that she feels afraid of him because of his skin color, which was not uncommon for white people in the time when this film was created. Lastly, the final scene in the film dripped with racism. When Ben was shot point blank in the head, there was not a thought given to him. It seems that Ben’s skin color may have been a deciding factor in his death. He went through so much to survive, yet he was murdered by those that were supposed to help him. Ben was clearly not a ghoul, but the officer still shot him without even confirming if he was alive or one of the undead. In my opinion, this symbolizes the lack of thought and concern for black lives. This was an issue then and remains an issue today. It mirrors today’s America when officers don’t hesitate to shoot and kill black people in situations that absolutely do not justify such a reaction.

[miraculouslanceylance]

Gajevy Week 2017, Day 1: Matching

Title: Inked

Word Count: 963 (plus an author’s note of 131)

Rating: F for fluff (still haven’t looked up literature ratings, someone help me omg)

     “I just don’t understand why this is such a big deal to ya, Lev. Tattoos just don’t suit you,” Gajeel sighs for the millionth time that week. Levy’s been nagging him about getting a tattoo. She’s been wanting one for days, carefully deciding what she should get. She talks about it constantly, and she even stopped by a tattoo parlor to have a look around for ideas. Gajeel knows that Levy can do whatever she wants, equal rights and what not, but he doesn’t want her to get one. She has on more than one occasion made a rash decision because of her excitement, and he’s afraid that’s what she’s doing now.

    Levy slips a bookmark into her page and carefully shuts her reading. Gajeel inwardly groans; she always does this before they get into an argument. “I want to be able to express myself, that’s all. I’m not going to get sleeves or anything like that, I just want something subtle, minimalistic, ya know? Like all those cute tattoos for Harry Potter where it’s the deathly hallows symbol, or his scar with a pair of circle glasses.”

    Gajeel smiles thoughtfully in hopes that his next words won’t be as harsh. “I love you, but even though you’re a very smart woman, you don’t think straight. Shrimp, what if you regret this tattoo? What if the artist gets it wrong, you’ll be stuck with it forever, ya know. Besides, what if you end up losing interest in whatever this tattoo represents? Once again, you’ll be stuck with it forever. I just don’t think that it’s a very good idea.”

    “Hon, I want a tattoo. I’ve only been talking about it for days, but it’s been on my mind for weeks. I know how serious it is to get a tattoo, which is why I’m thinking logically about this. Besides, I was kinda hoping you’d get one with me,” she says with a shy tone. She bats her eyelashes for extra effect, which isn’t fair at all. She knows exactly what that’ll do to Gajeel. They’ve been together for years now, but he still falls for her sly tricks.

    Gajeel groans. “If it means that much to ya, I’ll take you to get a tattoo. I’m not gonna get one with you. But for the love of all things holy, if you regret this tattoo, do not come cryin’ to me about it.”

    “Deal!” Levy smiles and tackles him in a hug. She gives him a peck on the cheek and runs to get her purse. “Come on!”

    “Right now?”

    “When else? Come on, let’s go!” Levy smiles and slips on her flip flops. Gajeel sighs but keeps a grin on his face. He loves when she gets cheerful like this, it’s cute. He slips on some sandals of his own and grabs her hand. Levy smiles up at him, and together they walk to the nearby tattoo parlor.

~TIME-SKIP~

    Gajeel shakes his head, unable to believe how he ended up in the tattoo parlor’s chair. He had absolutely no intention of getting a tattoo. Truth is, Levy had gotten scared about actually having the needle dig into her skin. So, she persuaded Gajeel to get the tattoo with her, and he could show her that it’s not as bad as she thinks. She sits in the chair beside him, holding his hand for him to squeeze. He scoffs to himself, he never even heard of what tattoo she was gonna get until this very moment.

    “Thank you,” she says softly. Gajeel scoffs again while the artist grabs his tools. “On the bright side, we’ll have a matching couple’s tattoo. That’s something to scratch off the bucket list, huh?” she smiles.

    “I have to write it on there first,” Gajeel replies. The artist comes back and sits down in his chair. “Ready,” Gajeel tells him. They nod and begin to work. He doesn’t even wince, which greatly impresses Levy. She doesn’t feel any pressure on her hand whatsoever. He just sits there with a poker face, his red eyes looking around the room for some source of entertainment. Before either of them knows it, Gajeel’s tattoo is complete.

    Levy nervously sits in the seat, suddenly feeling cold feet about getting the tattoo. Not that she wanted to double cross Gajeel, she’d never do that, but she has a big fear of needles. Guess I didn’t think about everything, after all, she says to herself just before the needle digs into her skin. She suppresses a squeal of discomfort and instead squeezes the life out of Gajeel’s hand.

    “You okay?” Gajeel asks. Levy bites her lip and nods, keeping in mind the reason she wanted the tattoo in the first place. Being honest, throughout the course of wanting a tattoo, she hasn’t thought of very much else besides that reason. Well, that and wanting some sort of way to express herself besides her wardrobe.

    The tattoo is over in minutes. Levy blinks back her tears and smiles triumphantly, gazing down at the tattoo in a mirror. It’s on her left breast, same as Gajeel. The words ‘side by side, forever’ are written in black curvy ink. Levy wanted to get the tattoo after the war was all over and everything got worked out. She was afraid of losing him again; she wanted something to keep with her, forever. To remember him by.

    Though he’ll never admit it, Gajeel is very glad he let Levy get the tattoo. He loves the cheesy quote of his own words etched in their skin to link them together. He smiles to himself as he slides some jewels across the counter. Together forever, he thinks. Levy laces her fingers through his, and they walk side by side to the guild.

Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!

It literally took me from the time fuckyeahgajevy posted the prompts to yesterday to decide of what they could match. I kept thinking of clothes, but I figured everyone would do clothes because of the cafe au that Hiro Mashima posted. Eventually I was looking up aesthetics on tumblr for a separate project, and I saw a couple with a yin yang symbol, and so my inspiration was born! be thankful i found inspiration, it was gonna a crappy costume party au

Anyway, this is the first of my works for this year’s Gajevy week. Be sure to follow me for more! I am also posting these to Wattpad, as well as separate works of writing that I hope you’ll enjoy :)

My Wattpad Account

-Hannah Banana

[chasingthecosmos]

By Any Other Name

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: T Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Eleventh Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 26/32 Read on AO3 here.

“Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that’s what was happening …” A Season 7 AU where Rose returns to her home universe only to find that 100 years have passed and nothing is quite the way that she remembers it. She wakes up with a new body, a new life, and a new Doctor. What has the Bad Wolf gotten her into this time? The 50th Anniversary will be included in this story.

"This one knows me," the Bad Wolf murmured, smirking up at Rose with a look of dark amusement. Rose blinked hard, half-expecting the image to fade and disappear before her eyes, but the woman remained as solid and life-like as though she were actually there, standing in the room with them.

"You ... you can see her?" the younger Doctor asked as he glanced from the Bad Wolf to Rose and back again in bewilderment.

"What is she doing here?" Rose demanded breathlessly, staring wide-eyed into the familiar features of her own, nineteen-year-old face. The last few times that Rose had seen the Bad Wolf, she had been a strange, otherworldly glowing creature with indistinguishable, nondescript features. This time, however, it was like looking into a mirror of the past, and the effect was spooky to say the least.

"You ... know her?" the unfamiliar Doctor in leather asked in surprise.

What's going on? Rose's current Doctor asked curiously, using their bond to speak directly into her mind.

"It's ... it's her, it's ..." But Rose's stuttering words were cut off as the young blonde woman suddenly shot to her feet and placed a single finger to her lips, motioning for Rose to be silent.

"I'm not who you think I am," the Bad Wolf murmured quietly. "I took this form for a purpose. The others can't see me, only this one." She motioned towards the Doctor at her side, who was gazing between them both with a look of wide-eyed shock.

Rose could still feel her current Doctor silently pulling at the back of her thoughts in an attempt to help her to focus so that she could explain to him what was going on. However, there was no reasonable explanation that Rose could come up with to answer him as she blinked in confusion at the familiar features of the blonde-haired woman. The creature claimed that she wasn't the Bad Wolf, but what else could she possibly be?

As Rose continued to hold her silence, the Doctor in the bowtie slowly stepped up to her side, his hand wrapping securely around her own as he warily studied the empty space that Rose and the Doctor in leather were currently staring intently at.

What is it? What's there? he asked curiously.

"Oi! Stop that!" They all turned in unison at the interruption and Rose felt her heart skip a beat in her chest as her gaze landed once more on the familiar features of the Doctor as he once was. "We can all hear that, you know," he muttered as he openly glared at the Doctor who was currently holding Rose's hand. "We're all the same person, we're linked telepathically."

His dark brown eyes slid to Rose then, and he looked her up and down critically as he continued, "Who's this, then? And why did you ...?"

"Spoilers," Rose's Doctor cut in again, taking a half-step forward as though he intended to block Rose completely from the view of the other two men in the room.

"It's okay, Doctor," Rose piped up quietly, giving her bondmate's fingers a squeeze as she looked at each of the men in turn. She was eager to tell the younger Doctor the truth of who she was - if for no other reason than to erase that cold, dark look from off of his face.

She was about to open her mouth and do just that when the Doctor at her side suddenly tightened his grip on her hand and muttered anxiously over their bond, No, it's not safe. He can't know ...

"Okay, you really have to stop that," the Doctor in pinstripes snapped irritably as he reached up with one hand and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.

"You ... you bonded with someone?" the Doctor in leather gasped in disbelief. "What a human? How is that even possible?"

Both of the older Doctors turned to glare at the youngest version of himself, but neither of them made any attempt to rush to Rose's defense or explain themselves.

"Oh, but this is fantastic!" the Bad Wolf woman cried in excitement, clapping her hands together in glee and letting out a short bark of laughter that rang off of the stone walls around them. "I knew I picked this form for a reason. This is just too perfect!"

"When does this happen, then?" the Doctor in pinstripes piped up tersely, unknowingly cutting the invisible woman off as he continued to eye Rose up and down with a look of utter distrust and distaste. "And who are you, eh? Where do you come from?"

"It's nothing that you need to worry about," the Doctor in the bowtie growled defensively as he took another step forward to place himself more directly between Rose and his past self.

"Oh?" the younger Doctor asked primly. "Am I not allowed to be curious about who my future wife is?" He hurled the word like it was an accusation, and Rose felt it like a slap to the face. She couldn't help but flinch slightly as she stared hard at the familiar features of the man who had tried so desperately to give her her happy ever after. How was he supposed to know that the Bad Wolf wasn't going to allow Rose to live a natural, human life?

"We've met before, Doctor," she muttered quietly, meeting the younger man's eyes directly and forcing herself not to show all of the hurt that she could feel deep within her chest as he glared openly at her. "You don't have to worry, I'm not just some random human ..."

"We've never met before," the Doctor replied darkly, furrowing his brows at her in confusion. "I think I'd remember that."

Rose sighed as she desperately reached once more for the easy familiarity of her telepathic bond. Are you sure I can't tell him ...? she asked silently, gritting her teeth together in frustration as she continued to stare down the face of the man that she had already spent a lifetime with in her parallel world.

"Tell me what?" the Doctor in pinstripes demanded at the same time that the Doctor in leather pressed the heel of one of his hands to his forehead and murmured "That really is quite distracting. It's like ... telepathic feedback."

"Sorry," Rose muttered awkwardly, casting her gaze to the ground in embarrassment as she shuffled her weight between her feet and silently eyed the two men who were fidgeting uncomfortably from unwelcome intrusion of her silent communication.

Don't be sorry, Rose's Doctor replied, squeezing her fingers reassuringly and pointedly using their mental connection despite the other two men's protests. "They're just jealous," he added out loud, flashing each of them a teasing smirk.

"Guess you really have moved on," the Doctor in pinstripes replied darkly. "First you forgot the Time war, and now ... this." He gestured rudely towards Rose and then shoved his hands firmly into his pockets as he continued to glare between the two of them.

Rose's Doctor immediately released her hand so that he could step forward and meet his younger self's eye with an intimidating, dangerous look. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and threatening while at the same time he used his telepathic bond to flood Rose's mind with silent, soothing reassurances. The drastic disconnect was making her head spin and Rose fidgeted awkwardly on the spot where the Doctor had left her, unsure of how to address any of them in this small room where time was bending so unnaturally all around them.

"My, my, you've certainly got them all worked up now," the Bad Wolf woman muttered, clicking her tongue as she crossed her arms and surveyed the two men who were standing practically toe-to-toe and glaring daggers at one another.

Who are you? Rose asked her silently, narrowing her eyes on the young woman.

The other woman's only answer was another sly, knowing smirk as she nodded back towards the two older Doctors and muttered, "Best sort your men out, there, Clara. Wouldn't do to have him strangle himself. The paradoxes alone would be an absolute nightmare ..."

Rose wasted no more time as she stepped up between the two men, placing her hand on either one of their chests as she urged them to step apart and drop it. "Alright, Doctor, that's enough," she insisted, addressing them both. "There'll be time enough to sort all of this out later. For now ..."

But her words trailed off into silence as she blinked and took a closer look at the Doctor in pinstripes. She hadn't noticed it earlier in the dim lighting, but now that she was standing closer and her fingers were brushing up against his chest, her gaze caught and held on the unfamiliar tie that was wrapped around his neck. She had seen this version of the Doctor wear dozens of different ties throughout the time that she had known him in this world and the other, but she was used to seeing simple, geometric patterns or swirling shapes that were reminiscent of the time vortex itself.

This tie, however, was new - and it was unlike anything she had ever seen him wear before. It was black and decorated with pale blue roses and dark, maroon-colored leaves. Seeing her own namesake worn like it was a symbol of mourning, tucked tightly between the Doctor's two hearts, made Rose's breath catch on something sharp and painful in her chest. She instantly felt her connection with her current Doctor fill with his own regret and sympathy as he quickly caught on to what she was staring at, and he wasted no time in taking her hand in his once more as he pulled her gently back to his side.

"What is it?" the Doctor in pinstripes asked warily, eyeing Rose and his older self suspiciously. "What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing, it's just ... your tie ..." she muttered lamely, still unable to take her eyes off of the dark floral pattern before her.

The Doctor looked down at himself for a moment and then scrunched up his nose in confusion as he turned back to meet Rose's gaze again. "My tie?" he repeated dubiously. "What's wrong with my tie?" His hands raised to his neck where he grasped the strip of fabric defensively, as though he were afraid that she might try to mock the small symbol that he wore as though it were battle armor.

"Nothing! There's nothing wrong with it," Rose amended quickly, forcing herself to glance away from the blue roses and meet his eyes directly once more. "I like it," she added with a soft smile. "It's very nice."

The younger Doctor hummed thoughtfully under his breath as he looked down his nose at her, still silently assessing every detail of her expression. Rose felt a subtle tug against the edge of her mind, but her eyes widened in surprise as she realized that it wasn't her husband who was pulling curiously against her - or, at least, it wasn't her current husband.

"Oi!" the Doctor in the bowtie cried indignantly as he stepped once more between Rose and his past self, shielding her defensively behind his body.

"Alright, alright, calm down," the Doctor in pinstripes grumbled awkwardly. "I wasn't trying to do anything. I was just ... curious, is all."

"Well, kindly keep your thoughts to yourself, if you don't mind," Rose's Doctor growled pointedly.

"Oh, you're one to talk!" his younger self snapped in irritation. "Swanning in here and parading around with your quaint little telepathic bond."

"I think you're both mad," the Doctor in leather suddenly piped up from where he had been watching them at the edge of the room. "Been spending too much time on earth, by the look of things. When did you two get so ... sentimental?"

Both of the older Doctors instantly opened their mouths to argue, but Rose effectively silenced them all again before another row could break out. "Alright! Okay, yes, lots to discuss, here. But first, and most important, is probably escape, right?"

All three of the Doctors grumbled under their breaths and scuffed their feet petulantly as they grudgingly conceded her point.

"So ... how long have you three been down here, sitting behind an unlocked door?" she asked. When the three men gave her no response other than irritated scowls and sheepish silence, Rose rolled her eyes and sighed, "Well, some things certainly never change, do they?"

"Oi, we were working on it!" the Doctor in the bowtie muttered defensively.

"It really should have been locked," The Doctor in leather grumbled in agreement. "Why wasn't it locked?"

"Because I was fascinated to see what you would do upon escaping," an unfamiliar female voice piped up primly. Rose turned and felt her eyes go wide as she stared at the red-headed woman dressed in period clothes and covered in gold finery standing behind her. "I understand you're rather fond of this world," the zygon posing as Queen Elizabeth murmured amusedly. "It's time, I think, you saw what's going to happen to it."