#they either die or are otherwise discarded

[rindomness]

ummmmmm. something something normal being the only one to actually empathize with the doodler before they were dood and teenshaped and being the only one to empathize with hermie when hermie was alive. that's it that's the thought.

[awesomechocolatesauce]

Astarion didn't love Sebastian. He was fond of him, thought he was handsome and sweet and a good man, but I didn't get the impression he loved him.

If you romance Astarion, there's dialogue where he says that the player character is the first person he's ever TRULY loved and cared for, and he has no idea what he's doing in a real relationship.

So, when Astarion sees Sebastian in the cells, it's not the reaction of lost love. It's the reaction of facing the reality of what happened to every person he had brought back to Cazador. They didn't die like Cazador had led him to believe, but turned, locked up, and starved for centuries, which is so much worse than being fed on and discarded. It was a reaction of shock and guilt, NOT lost love, even if he did like Sebastian.

If Astarion is the player character, he doesn't recognize him right away and has to pass checks to either remember him or to lie about it. He didn't love him, like I said.

I don't have a problem with fanfics or people liking the idea of them, but I always get so confused when people say that Astarion was in love with Sebastian, because the evidence suggests otherwise. There's also no way I can ever see them having a happy ending if Astarion isn't romanced, because while Astarion truly didn't have a choice, it's not something a person can simply forgive and move on from. Sebastian will look at Astarion and still see the person who destroyed him, or at least, that's how I'd imagine a person in his situation would react.

Side note: this also doesn't prove that Astarion is "actually gay". He's still very much pansexual.

[yandere-sins]

I feel like omegaverse has some untapped yandere potential. Of course there’s alpha and omega but I had this idea of like an omega going yandere for a beta, like it’s literally never going to be but by god they’re gonna do whatever it takes

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Uff! It's such a dreadful madness. I can't describe it otherwise.

An omega that knows you are their one true love, their one and only, the soulmate that every omega craves on a deeper level than just what their brain or body needs. But, oh, the misery when they go to your appointment with you to find out you're not the alpha they will need to survive their urges (as they have naturally assumed) but a mere beta they can have as a friend for a while at best. Once they are bound to an alpha, there will be very little time to invest in you, and that's something the omega has to prevent at all costs.

See, normally, an alpha would take care of their omega. Would feed them, clothe them, house them. Make sure they are always satisfied and well-satiated. But if the yan wants to keep you, specifically, they'll have to step up to the position of caretaker. Society doesn't want their precious omegas to go unmated, and if they learn of the predicament of your role, they'll undoubtedly keep you away from your omega. It scares the yan into sleepless nights and even panic attacks, making them fearful and desperate because they cannot survive without you. You yan might be bound to a knot but die of a broken heart either way. They can't even imagine forgetting you and leaving you behind to be with any other disgusting, ruthless, leering alpha. They want you. Only you.

You, you, you.

So they do what they must. Suppressants here, hiding their scent there. They learn to avoid the questions and hide from potential mates until they reach their goal—money. Lots of it. Whether through legal means or much more nefarious ways, they'll save up so much that they can spend the rest of their life comfortably with you, somewhere hidden and secluded, just you two. The world always needs more videos of needy, begging omegas, and it's a small price to pay when it means they can create the life of their dreams. You don't even realize the reason behind the omega's sudden lack of time. That's how well they are hiding their identity on the internet as they become famous for your sake.

It's not a surprise that after your diagnosis, after learning your purpose in society, you slowly start to make amends with it. While your yandere is so obsessed with creating a life for you two, you just try to move on from how you envisioned your life to go. Because you know you two can't be together. And your previously best friend is never around to support you at this challenging time, so you start to find other people who care about you.

The heartbreak for the poor omega seeing their beloved beta living your life apart from them is immeasurable. Infuriating. Maddening. Here they were trying so hard to do this for you, and you just replace and discard them? Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable!

But their plan is already underway. They already have more money than they know what to do with, even after buying a mansion for you two somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of this annoying society you two live in. Once you're there, no one will hear you scream. And your omega knows you won't deny them when they ask you to go on vacation with them "for old time's sake". Why would you? You love them, they know it. Even if you hesitate, you are so easily persuadable when they plead a little, just like all those followers they have accumulated over the past few months that fall for every crocodile tear and every sway of the omega's hips. But while many may adore the yandere, they only have eyes for you—and now you're walking into their carefully laid out trap.

Because as soon as they lock the door behind them, there's no way out for you. You may not like your new living arrangement initially, but the yan has already severed all your ties to the world outside of this sacred haven they created. Everything is gone—your job, your friends, your family. No one will come looking for you. Everyone believes you left of your own free will with the person you have loved since childhood.

You may be confused, crying, and refusing the omega's touches. Begging them to let you go and even lash out, but they'll endure it, whether it's your tears staining the designer carpet or your palm print on their skin. You'll surely come to your senses and realize the amazing effort the yan put into this. But even after days, you're still rattling on doors, trying to jump out of locked windows, and at that point, it's not like the yan is too innocent to drug your food and chain you in their basement love nest. Nothing will get in between you and them—not even you. This change may be hard, but they had to sacrifice a lot for you, too. It's only fair if you have to do the same for this perfect life. And if you're not willing to give them the love they want, they have viewers waiting upstairs in their new and approved 'office' to release some steam with and clear their head before they do something that will upset both of you. Viewers who can't wait for the special 'surprise' the yan has promised many weeks ago.

Because everyone knows that the omega's heat will come, even with the suppressant. They will need their release when the medicine doesn't work anymore. And why would they need to keep taking it when they are secure and in the company of their one true love? They don't need an alpha to do it. They have you. What more could they want?

You'll have no moment of peace from them once their heat starts, cameras set up, and chains secure you into their nest. There are toys for all the needs they could possibly have that you can't fulfill as a mere beta. And when they inject you with so many pheromones that your body can barely handle the rut they will force you into despite being the wrong person for it, you'll almost be like the alpha they need, desperately humping and grinding on your omega like a bitch in heat. Wild and only held back by the chains, but still their adorable, beautiful darling beta, even when you two make a mess out of the nest and yourselves.

All on camera, of course.

The omega doesn't even care when they scream your name, revealing your identities to the world. No one will ever come for you two while the tips and memberships just come flowing in naturally, demanding more. And the yan gladly obliges. There is no greater happiness than finally having you right how they want and need you.

It's happiness shared amongst everyone.

Everyone except you.

[yuesya]

Is that… Aventurine? At a concert?

Topaz blinks as she catches sight of the familiar face, surprised. A fellow Stoneheart was the last person she’d expected to run into on one of her days off, especially not at a jam-packed concert of all places… but life has a funny way of throwing coincidences at you when you least expect it. And as large as the universe is, there are also times when it’s quite astonishingly small.

Which is to say, Topaz had not been aware that Aventurine was a fan of the superstar singer Robin’s songs. The man has expensive tastes –as many IPC executives do– but Topaz had always been under the impression that it was for personal luxuries and comforts, rather than anything relating to the performative arts.

Almost as if sensing her gaze on him, Aventurine turns around. As fate would have it, Topaz’s seat is actually not quite far from his in the VIP section, and it doesn’t take long before his eyes focus unerringly on her.

Aventurine blinks, and arches an eyebrow.

Topaz smiles reflexively, and waves her hand slightly in greeting.

… Well, this was a little awkward. Heavens knows that she was only here to enjoy an intergalactic star’s concert, not to tail a fellow coworker as he would undoubtedly suspect the coincidence to be–

The person sitting beside Aventurine also shifts and turns around, causing the man to break his stare-off with Topaz when they say something to him.

Wait, was Aventurine not here on his own? … He was attending this concert with someone else?

Topaz’s first reaction is to wonder if this is a client that Aventurine is spending time with, but she swiftly discards the thought. There is no faultless smile plastered on the blond man’s face, and his body language does not indicate that he is deliberately entertaining his companion to lull them into a false sense of security. But it doesn’t seem as if they are a business partner, either –that also doesn’t seem quite right. Because when Aventurine had seen her, Topaz had caught a faint flash of… something that wasn’t quite hostility, not really, but it had still left Topaz with the vague impression that her presence was not welcome.

Hmm. This was interesting.

Blatantly ignoring the way that the other Stoneheart’s gaze sharpens, Topaz takes a moment to study the individual beside him.

At a glance, it’s clear to see that this is someone who is deliberately attempting to maintain a low profile. There is a cloth mask covering the lower half of their face, coupled with a pair of dark sunglasses that obscures their features entirely. But from their general body shape, it’s not hard to tell that this is a girl. And there is nothing hiding the long curls of silvery hair running down her back, nor the pair of wings behind her ears and the delicate halo that floats over her head like a crown.

A Halovian girl?

To Topaz’s knowledge, most Halovians nowadays all hailed from Penacony. And Penacony was not exactly on the best of terms with the IPC, so this was–

The white-haired girl reaches up with pale fingers, and removes her sunglasses.

As an IPC executive and one of the Ten Stonehearts, Topaz has encountered many different species and races throughout various worlds in the galaxy, and she can quite confidently say that she’s never seen eyes like that before on any individual, Halovian or otherwise. It wasn’t just the abyssal blue color, nor the faint glow–

The Halovian girl does not do anything more than simply look at her, and Topaz freezes beneath her gaze. It’s a gaze that contains no emotion, nor any recognition, and yet–

And yet Topaz’s instincts scream at her, every hair raising on the back of her neck, and the heavy pounding of her heart in her ears is enough to drown out the music and cheers of the ongoing concert around them. With perfect crystal-clear clarity, she knows that she is about to die–

The sunglasses come back down, and the terrifying Halovian girl turns away from Topaz. Towards Aventurine instead, who had tugged the sunglasses back over her eyes, and the man is looking at her with a strange little helpless smile.

Yet, he does not look upon the girl with any fear.

Aventurine leans forward, whispering something into the girl’s ear. The Halovian girl nods, and turns back around in her seat, her attention returning to the concert stage. Aventurine flicks his gaze towards Topaz and gives her a slight nod, his smile once more the sly and faintly mocking expression that Topaz is well-familiar with, then turns away from her as well.

Topaz sits silently for a long moment. Sucks in a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

…

(Months later, Aventurine is the one chosen to represent the IPC at the negotiation table, when it becomes apparent that Lyra of the Oak Family intends to kill Oswaldo Schneider, the head of the Marketing Development Department.

Topaz, for one, is unsurprised.)

[luvlyemmaa]

Cicatrize

-`♡´- To find healing by the process of forming scars

Summary:(Y/n) is going through a difficult time in her life.She had intended to simply vanish and die, but it appears that someone had persuaded her otherwise.

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗!!"

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗 𝗘𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥! 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗜𝗩𝗘! 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬, 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬!!"

"𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗘! 𝗜'𝗠 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗕𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬!!"

Screaming and glass breaking noises could be heard downstairs. Your parents were arguing once more, but you are used to it by now. Both of them seem to argue endlessly on a daily basis, but you wouldn't care either way.

Everything was going smoothly for you ever since you were a baby, just like in those old fairy tales about princesses that your parents used to tell you every night before bed. Up to the time you turn 4, everything is upside down. Your mother discovered that your father had a second family with a different woman, and your father discovered his mother having an extramarital affair. Since then, whether it was day or night, they would constantly argue. Whether it was your mother or your father, they both started throwing things around the home and eventually left.The following morning, the first thing you would notice when you went downstairs was that there were numerous shattered items all over the place. You would then always tidy up and discard some items in the trash.The space, which was previously alive with laughing, is now absolutely silent.

Your POV:

As you sit on your bed, slightly leaning against the wall, you retrieved your headphones. In order to block out their voices, you attached your phone to your headphones and turned up your music level. As you bury your face in your knees, you raise your knees to your chest.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥...

𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥...

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴...

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳...

You noticed your lips twitching and tears slowly pouring from your eyes and down to your cheeks. As you sobbed gently, your face was still buried between your knees. You've been crying so much that you're shaking. Once you had stopped crying, you lay down on your bed and let your head rest on the pillow while still wearing your headphones and listening to music on your phone. You closed your eyes as you dozed off after too much crying until you fell into a peaceful slumber.

The Next Day:

Your face was lifeless and expressionless, and you were resting on the rail. From below, a recognisable voice caused you to momentarily look down. Your heart ached because your closest friends—who you used to hang out with all the time—seem to have found 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 to 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 you.

They were pleasantly conversing as they walked towards the cafeteria, which made you think about a time when you used to be in 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹'𝘀 place. Every time there is a group project, everyone works together to complete it, and everyone walks and sits together. That was a lovely recollection that you now remember in fragments, but it was once a good flashback.

When you're alone in the school hallway, you move away from them to avoid bumping into them. You don't mind the absolute silence because this is what you want, thus it doesn't matter. You sit down on the floor next to a vending machine, embracing your legs as you raise your knees to your chest since you're exhausted from the prolonged walking. As your eyes grew drab, you knelt down and thought intently. A cold metal object touched your cheek as you were contemplating it, sending a small jolt through you.

"Hey! What do you think you're—?" You paused mid-sentence and stared at them with wide eyes.

"𝘈𝘲𝘶𝘢...?"

Your classmate Hoshino Aqua has been missing for a few days now due to his hectic schedule, but it appears that he has returned to class at this time.

"Why are you here when it is lunch time? Don't you want to eat with your friends?"

He handed you a canned drink that he had purchased while staring down at you and asking. You took it and said a little "thank you." As you took a sip, you opened the beverage can.

He leaned against the wall next to your seated figure and muttered in a monotone, "Well, you haven't answered my question," taking a sip of his canned beverage.

You put down your drink and cast a quick peek his way. You fidget with your canned beverage while gazing down and displaying a distressed expression.

"Don't feel like doing it". Aqua peered at you for a time before turning his attention to something else. You mumble as you do so, but he could see the pain in your eyes.

He started to walk away, causing you to start staring at his back, and then he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you by the shoulder.

He motioned his head and said, "Let's go," inviting you to follow him. You gave him a perplexed glance before getting to your feet and swiftly following him.

Asking "Where are we going?" You questioned him while glancing up at him; his response, "Somewhere," caused you to wrinkle your brows in frustration. You just followed him, and as you puffed in annoyance, he couldn't help but chuckle as a small smile appeared on his face.

The cafeteria appears to have less students than earlier as he brought you inside. You confusedly arched an eyebrow as you regarded him standing in front of the counter and mumble, "Cafeteria...?" Then you settle into the closest chair, gazing down at your feet as you wait for him. When you unexpectedly received a strawberry sando while gazing down, you looked up to see Aqua had just finished buying.

"W-what?" You stutter and stare up at him bewildered. He took your hand and placed the strawberry sando in it while sighing. The strawberry sando that was in your hand was softly pushed towards you as he remarked, "Take it, skipping meals isn't good you know."

"H-huh!? B-but you pay for it with your own money, right? Hold on, I'll pay you back". A hand abruptly stopped you as you were about to reach for your wallet.

"You don't have to,(Y/n)". He remarked as he carefully pulled his palm away from yours, "It's not a big thing" . You gave him a sparky look as your cheeks began to flush as you turned to face him. He continued as he walked away, "Well there's still 12 minutes before the break ended, why don't you eat while we're on our way to class," and you briefly gazed at his back before a small smile appeared on your face.

As you both went side by side, talking to him and grinning, you swiftly catch up to him after standing up.Although he replies to you with the same expression of stoicism, he was secretly feeling relieved that he had managed to get you back to being your usual upbeat self.

[couldbeglorious]

theres aaa malevolence womence momence rn and uhhh to me it's not rly a problem that there arent voiced women / women without heavy voice distortion, it's perfectly possible to have good characters that are spoken of / read about in letters / otherwise nonverbally present, it's that the characters who are women aren't well-written, rounded characters. they're ideas and concepts (often cool ones!) placed as set dressing or information posts or a wall to bounce a ball off of for the story arthur's doing at the moment, they arent people with agency and drive. and then they die. Sorry, they Have Died. Amanda could have written more letters where she had a personality, she couldve have interacted with the woman who became the wraith, she could have stayed alive and written letters directly to arthur, emily could have been someone beyond a backstory gory detail, anna stanczyk could have... been a character instead of being periodically alluded to as "existing" (and have her name pronounced correctly sometime). Marie was pretty close ! then she went and discarded her own sister being brought back from the fucking creature that took her husband in favor of suddently making arthur her surrogate son and how shes such a lonely old woman who has only need for a little guy to be special. Hattie? just a vessel to the end i guess, never a person. and that's not to say male characters have it much better, what with the "instantly being so enamored with arthur at first sight it's literally incomprehensible if you took your shipping glasses off" , "throwing all secondary characters in the laundry chute in the s4 finale" which wasnt even needed at all since arthur was going to time-travel ANYWAY , but , thing is, they obviously are people with a past and a want and a story. thought experiment : take your general idea of the characterization of noel, or oscar, or even Parker, remember we never heard him speak either!, and apply it to an avatar with a woman's face. does this new OC feel different than how the women who have been present in the show feel?

[karniss-bg3]

The cult of the absolute doesn't strike me as necessarily caring about the quality of life of its followers given they can just-- brain wash them into thinking it's the best. What kind of living situation do you think Kar'niss was put into? After all-- they made an ogre stay in the same rooms as other races.

Without a doubt, the Absolute are dogshit at cultist accommodations. If they had a Yelp page it'd be one stars down the line. Although I hear the continental breakfasts have their perks; If you don't mind tadpoles in your oatmeal, that is.

When it comes to our dear baby boy I fear he may have it the worst out of anyone, or the best depending on how you look at it. I don't believe he lives at the tower full time. Driders are bloodthirsty and are required to consume blood at least every four days, otherwise their bodies begin to break down and they can die. Unless Ketheric Thorm had a steady system to meet these dietary needs it would require Kar'niss to go out on the hunt for meals. And if there is one thing driders are biologically wired to do, it's hunt...and often.

I believe Kar'niss spends most of his time at the camp where you first encounter him.

This area is large enough to handle his size and secluded enough to where he's rarely bothered. Stationed so close to the mountain pass it also affords him the jump on any foolish enough to enter the Shadowlands. If you enter through the doorway at the back you also find a lot of evidence that this could be his primary feeding nest.

Bloody drag marks, bodies in trees and rock faces and skeletal remains piling up in the cavern below, it's the perfect spot for a hungry drider to enjoy his meal in peace. He likely drags his victims to the tree, drinks them dry and discards the remains for scavengers or fiends to clean up.

I also believe this is the real reason he was given the moon lantern. Not because the Absolute actually favored him, but because out of anyone he would be required to venture into the Shadowlands most often. This elected him as the impromptu guide for any True Souls that wandered to Moonrise.

As for where he sleeps, I doubt he does much if at all. Drow only require four hours of rest with their trance ability, and Kar'niss is still labeled as a drow in his profile. Rest wouldn't come easy to him with so many voices bombarding his mind, vying for attention. So when he's not being tasked by the Absolute to act as a guide or some other side venture, he's either hunting or looming at the top of Moonrise tower to be closer to "Majesty". I have an idea as to how Kar'niss became so thoroughly mind fucked by them, but that's for another post.

If he does stay at the tower primarily it would be just as lonely as the pseudo campsite. Kar'niss is the Ned Flanders of the Absolute (with more murder), and everyone else is Reverend Lovejoy. Sure, they believe and follow faithfully, but Kar'niss is a bit too extra even for them. His constant ramblings, his fanatic devotion and how temperamental he can be make him an unpopular option to hang around. He's likely dismissed or outright ignored. In fact now that I think about it, I don't think a single NPC addresses him by name. The guard at Moonrise calls him 'drider' and that's it. Perhaps Minthara does but I can't recall to save my life. Sad.

Overall I think regardless of where he chooses to hang his web, it's a very isolated existence. The Absolute don't care about him, non-cultists don't care about him, and he has an invisible timer ticking down toward his expiration date. The poor creature is simply too brainwashed and broken to know it.

Thanks for the ask!

[hollowfaith]

pick three of your favs from the communication preferences meme <3

roleplaying habits

what’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

so APPARENTLY according to this post you’re supposed to indicate interrupted dialogue with dashes OUTSIDE the quotation marks like what. what is this monstrosity of a grammar rule:

i’ve always been like:

“Eiden Itadori, you useless idiot—” Aurelius paused to sip his wine before nudging the other’s forehead with the tip of his shoe, “—stop blocking the sidewalk.”

sorry eiden so yeah the correct version looks so unnatural to me but now that i know this rule there’s the agony of following through because i know i’ll be more bothered otherwise aughhhh anyways

i do love breaking rules maybe i’ll resist convention. be a grammar menace like what also because be elegant or die

11. when you are writing a reply, how much ahead in the thread do you plan?

even with “plotted threads” i just write by the seat of my pants and let random tangents happen on the way to the end goal, kinda like meandering drunk down a sidewalk u get me lolol

but sometimes i get an idea for an interesting reply or reaction for my muse & how it’d affect the vibes of the thread 2-3 replies down; then i either write the Thing and see how my partner replies (because the outcome might change as we RP in real time), or pause before the reply to tell them “hey Y i think i’ll make A do this next do u think it’ll make your muse XYZ in response”

i don’t plan too far ahead or too specifically because then it’s less RP and more acting out a script u get me

20. if you are writing a wrong reply that’s not working out, do you save what you have to be continued at another date, or do you scrap it and rewrite?

sooooo i always save what i have because the cardinal rule of writing (that i follow) is that you can always use what you've written later, or for something else. (i have recycled bits of discarded replies into replies for other threads and that worked fine!)

and then leaving the reply along in drafts to go and do other other replies (or visit other muses) helps because i think it lets my subconscious stew on it until i know what i want to say. half the time it's not the words that's gotten me blocked as it is the mood/tone i want to convey in the reply. once i find the right language for it things flow much more smoothly.

also sometimes what i draft is just crap but i need to SEE the crap later with fresh eyes before i burn it all to start over (it's carthartic)

[shrikeseams]

Actually if I had to violently collapse the sons of feanor I to the bare minimum of characters for TV purposes, I think I could get it down to two. One is maedhros+curufin, and the other is maglor+celegorm+caranthir. The ambarussa are either fully discarded, both killed at the burning, or possibly made into brothers of celebrimbor (who also probably die early or otherwise only appear on screen like, once.)

[adacatlovelace]

Ulysses is an absolutely underrated character and I will die on this hill

First off, I absolutely love the way that the game slowly drip feeds you information about him. Your first hint something happened BEFORE Benny shooting you in the head is Jonathan Nash telling you the original courier saw your name on the delivery and backed out which not only implies they knew something was going on with the platinum chip but also has something against you. Then in Dead Money, you get a few more hints from Christine and then more in Old World Blues and the game has set up as a sort of mirror of you.

You walk the lonesome road, slowly prodding him for information and finding discarded journal entries that reveal his trauma at the hands of the Legion. You, for once, get to SEE the horrible impact the Legion has, completely eradicating tribal culture to form a "Pax Romana." He was completely uprooted from his home and his tribe, The Twisted Hairs, are gone.

Working as a Frumentari, he began work with The White Legs, teaching them how to use weapondry and tactics. They began to revere him so much that they began wearing their hair in dreads like him. This disgusted him, the dreads had very profound cultural meaning to The Twisted Hairs, the knots telling a story and now here was another tribe appropriating its look without knowing its significance, a hollow disrespectful imitation.

Disillusioned with the Legion, he began to walk, eventually finding Hopetown. A settlement free of both NCR and Legion, a completely new community free from the corruption of the old world. It wasn't long until the BEAR AND THE BULL found it however, and they began to both move in. This culminated with the NCR sending a courier to deliver a strange device bearing similar to the markings found in Hopeville, resulting in the detonation of the underground warheads destroying hopeville and creating the divide.

The most common complaint I hear about him is "why is he mad at me for delivering a package?" but take a moment to really think about your role in the game. The choices you make have consequences, for better or for worse, knowing or unknowing. THE COURIER decided to assist the NCR in making a trek they likely wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. THE COURIER made the decision to help with meddling in things that should be left alone.

And in doing so, the courier not only acted as an agent of one of the poisons plaguing the mojave, but destroyed what was, in Ulysses's eyes, the last hope of freedom from both The NCR and The Legion, and for the second time, a place that he called home was taken from him.

Now think about the gameplay of Lonesome Road. Unlike the other DLCs you are not stuck in it. You are allowed to turn around and leave at any moment. YOU decide to follow the invitation. YOU decide to walk the Lonesome Road. YOU, once again, mess with extremely dangerous old world tech. YOU pull the lever that ends up launching a nuke and creating The Couriers Mile. That may not have been your intention, but once again, YOU did actions that have consequences.

Then once you meet him, YOU are left to decide how you deal with him. Through diplomacy or brute strength. Either way, you close the book on a long story of trauma and are handed the fate of his plan to do with as you please.

In a way, I think of him as a sort of mirror to the player character. He's walked many of the same roads you have, seen the same sights you have. For someone playing blind, they might start following the "Good option" of the NCR but quickly get disillusioned with it after seeing its many failings and decide to strike out your own path, much like he did with The Legion. His quest for revenge sets him on a path that would shape the mojave to his choosing, just like yours did. He is your shadow.

[piduai]

tsukishima really is such a beta cuck loser and unpleasant boring character. what's the most frustrating about him is that he has these specks of brilliance when it comes to writing and character building, they just burn out immediately and lead to nothing. his narrative journey starts with him losing his will to live because he assumed that his gf killed herself. then tsurumi comes along and drags him out of the quicksand he's buried himself into, gives him his mid life back and expects interest on this charity. tsukishima is complying, he can't be with his gf but now that he believes she's alive then he can live on too. then he finds out that tsurumi is a lying manipulative demon and that he himself has been lied too, but it's been 9 years and he's in too deep and sees no point in detaching himself from tsurumi no more; he has no will to live, no will to die, no will of his own... he's put his life into tsurumi's tiny hands and doesn't care what happens to it anymore. he's dedicated himself to his savior and his maltreater. he's like one of those eldest children who were mistreated by their parents their whole lives but still take care of them until they exhaust their last breath, out of love, out of filial piety, out of duty, out of pity. whatever.

he makes up his mind and throws away the one memento he kept from his gf, spiritually burying her, his resolve to bury his ego alongside her memory and dedicate what's left of himself to tsurumi strong. then that gf is brought up a few times, because while he knows that tsurumi lied to him somewhere, he doesn't know where exactly, and whether she's alive or not. even though he supposedly gives up on her. when he gets a vague chance to learn the truth he averts his eyes at the last moment, unwilling to face it; even though literally nothing would have changed, because tsurumi already told him that she's alive (and we as the audience find out that he wasn't even lying lol) he just didn't want to put a definite end to his doubt because he enjoys wallowing in misery, self-pitying and having no spine. whatever.

when he's given the choice to bail on tsurumi, the narrative absolves him of making it by having him pass out. then tsurumi "dies" and he's back to square one. he's at sea, searching for the remains of the person that was the meaning of his existence. fails to find anything. expresses doubt and despair. then some other guy comes along and gives him his mid life back by making up a reason he needs to stick around. nothing changes. he gained nothing, went through the same loss twice, but in the end it somehow cancelled itself out. the status quo was protected, he was given 0 development (ended where he started while never moving a step even sideways), and was in the story only because it'd be difficult for tsurumi to be in two places at the same time. contributed to nothing. his personal conflicts were brought up a handful of times and immediately squashed and discarded in each instance. whatever.

and it's not a circular story arc despite the circular motion, because even that would require change. it's stagnant. it's running in place. "some people are like that" well this is a story though? that otherwise is very well-structured? moreover he has no personal charm either, it's like watching paint dry. a very pointless animal. i know that if i liked him or was his fan and was presented with his conclusion in 314 i would have rage quit and never touch this manga again

[ahmedmootaz]

Since you respond here quicker than ao3 and had to look up what was my question, why won't X give himself a new name post-tMFoA? I can get the explanation with Hope. (And had X had been named Hope in au, I really would’ve think Angela would scoff at the reminder from Hope the person, with the seed of light being grown by blood and suffering)

But this is actually me segue on what will X and Angela would name BH? Would it be the same as Ayin, since one is a clone and the other is his creation? (Weirdass family tree there) or one or both of them have better naming sense than him?

What about Carmen anyways, how's her naming skill? And why not throw The Distortion, I guess. Because who names them, the distorted themselves? TD? the patron librarian (and lcb sinners)?

I was mostly thinking X and Angela adopting BH post-AiP (but an au of X being part of Library founding would be neat in a different ask) but wasn’t sure how far BH is cause Angela in her bad end has ridiculously long hair, versus LoR's short hair. Cause X's fate is nebulous if he wants to live long, or died from the battle or from clone degradation.

So potentially we could have Angela adopting BH with fond memories of X, X lived long enough to love and care for BH but still cut short anyways, or none of those two and I'll finally get X/Angela slowburn.

Dear astrocouriers,

Good questions all around! And quite the complex and interesting ones too, although I hope you'll forgive me for not replying too quickly, even though it was quicker than the time it would've taken on AO3, ahah.

Essentially, my personal reasoning for why X wouldn't change his name is that whatever he would choose wouldn't be him anymore. Being "Hope" or "Ayin 2" or any other name simply wouldn't have had the relevancy to him that X does; simply changing his name would be too easy after everything he went through, in a way. There would be no struggle in just deciding to be "Hope" from now on, but it simply isn't who he was. He was never the hope that the Corporation's denizens needed, and he wouldn't stand up to Ayin's legacy and power, he was simply an unknown factor in an otherwise perfectly planned equation. An 'X' factor, if you will.

Hence, X's name to him signifies that battle that he had to endure. It signifies that he was simply a variable that had no real purpose beyond his assigned role, a failed clone with little abilities compared to his original version and with a far meeker attitude, unimportant enough to the grand scheme of everything and everyone that he wasn't even given a proper name.

But more than just that, it especially signifies that he survived. In spite of all of these hurdles, in spite of being a faceless, nameless clone with a singular task and no grand purpose after it, in spite of being intended to simply die after his purpose was complete, he not only lived, but he carved himself into a person. The name X, then, is a proof that he survived everything that was thrown at him and gave a meaning to a nameless, faceless clone, just as Ayin gave meaning to the hollow word that 'promise' is in the City when he promised Carmen and went through the unimaginable for her.

As a last note, I think X wouldn't like discarding his name because, despite all of the negative memories associated with it, it's the name he came to recognise for himself as well. For all of the pain it holds, it holds a lot of happiness and relief as well, a constant reminder that regardless of how bleak it is, he can make it out again, just as he made it in the Corporation after countless (mostly forgotten) restarts to the Script.

As for your second question, hmmm...I think Angela would have great difficulty finding names, and honestly, so would X, seeing how both of them are either close to Ayin's method of thinking in X's case and straight-up Ayin's daughter in Angela's case, which means both of their creative skills are likely a...dud, to say the least. Still, I reckon that eventually they can settle on something that they'd find from their books, such as Aqua because X is a sentimental fool and the name reminds him of Angela's hair (plus the name is semi-neutral so whether or not the BH is a boy or a girl it'd work). But yeah, if the other Librarians were around, they'd likely be the ones to find a suitable name while Angela and X argue together about how weird/not weird their relationship/family tree is.

As for Carmen, considering she's the exact opposite of Ayin, I'd say her naming skills are vastly superior, and that she/The Distortion is likely the one that picks Distortion names, seeing how most Distortions aren't exactly conscious enough to pick their own names. If we go by the theory that Abnormality names were also spawned from Carmen's subconscious/Bucket, then she seems to have quite the palette of names to choose from, definitely something she'd be sad she couldn't transfer to her daughter, hehe.

If I recall correctly, Angela's bad ending occurs some thirteen years after Roland's defeat, so in such a scenario, I think X would definitely choose Angela repairing his wounds and degradation so he could not only live with her, but with the BH. I think X isn't averse to living a long life, actually, but I also think he would wish to die at some point. He's evaded Death long enough now, and even if he decides to grow old with Angela by his side, he has to pay his due one day, and he'd like to come to terms with it on his own instead of being forcefully evicted out of his mortal coil.

In other words, yes, I think that if Angela and X adopt the BH, you'll finally get your Angela/X slowburn, kehehe.

Once again, thank you for the insightful and fun ask, astrocourier! I hope to see you again soon! Be well, stay safe, and see ya'!

[michaelmilligan]

Midam Appreciation Week Day 4: It's a free ride when you've already paid

The cabin trembled as magic swirled in the air, dark red turning to purple as it formed a circle, first small and then growing, growing. Adam's hand gripped tighter around his upper arm where it felt as if more blood wanted to seep out, to join the almost half a litre which he had taken for the spell.

The equipment lay discarded on a nearby table, and Adam wasn't sure if it trembled because the room was shaking, or because the last remaining drops on it were subjected to the same pull he felt.

Alicia had looked at him weirdly when he'd pulled out the needle and blood bag, and had muttered about knives and cuts on hands, but Adam hadn't listened. He might need both of his hands later, he reasoned, and besides, why be less sophisticated than you needed to be?

Just because this was blood magic didn't mean he had to behave like a stereotypical evil with.

The portal stopped growing at about the diameter of Adam's height, and within a heartbeat, the sloshing purple turned black in the middle, only the rim still shining with colour.

The hair on Adam's arms stood up as cold swept over him that had nothing to do with temperature. There was no temperature in the Empty, because there were no waves, no mass, no nothing. It was, as its name so accurately advertised, empty.

Except for the angels and demons, of course. Hordes of them, Adam imagined, lying in eternal slumber.

Michael had told him about that place, in hushed whispers and with a quivering in his grace that he had otherwise only ever gotten when speaking about his father. That was the only reason that Adam knew where Michael was now. His brothers hadn't been of any help, all their words boiling down to 'good riddance' when he'd asked what he could do. Most of the books he'd read about angels had either been completely useless or staggeringly inaccurate, to the point that he'd put more than one down laughing bitterly, and eager to throw them against the nearest wall.

But finally, there had been hope – a manuscript that Max had learned of through a connection, written relatively recently, and by a prophet. The man, Donatello, had said that he didn't get visions anymore, had maybe spent all his divine inspiration in the burst of productivity around the time of the rapture.

Not many people remembered the rapture, but Donatello did, though he couldn't have said if this fit had happened before, during or after it. Apparently, his memory was a little muddled due to his soul being returned to his body recently.

Adam hadn't pried further, and it didn't really matter whether the old or the new god had made Donatello spit out the pages of information. All that had mattered was getting it from him – and in the end, they had struck a bargain.

While Donatello knew not every John Doe should have the recipe to calling an archangel back from the Empty, he had also been eager to get rid of everything that reminded him of his time as a prophet. He had been thinking of giving everything to the Winchesters, but had left this one piece to Adam for the small price of a supply of healing potions against his hypertension.

Alicia had grumbled about it, but Adam had done most of the work anyway, and soon he had held in hand the one thing he had wanted most in the world for two years: A way to get Michael back.

Alicia and Max had already left the cabin, and should by then have been far enough away to not be in immediate danger if anything went wrong. Not that anything was currently happening at all – the portal simply hung in mid-air, not even a ripple in the sleek black surface.

“Come on, Michael,” Adam muttered, digging his fingernails into the skin of his upper arm. Then, louder, he said: “Michael! I'm here!”

He couldn't go in – that much had already been clear to him from Michael's description of the Empty. His body would die immediately, since there was not only no air, but also nothing else material in the Empty. Maybe it would simply evaporate as soon as he stepped through.

Which would have left his soul, but what good was a puny little human against a primordial entity? The Empty would have put him to sleep immediately, or would perhaps simply have snuffed him out of existence for daring to enter its domain.

In short, Adam was no use to Michael on the other side, so all he could do was open a portal for him and wait. Since it was opened with his blood, which still had traces of Michael's grace in it after over a thousand years of possession, it should have served as a beacon for him to follow.

The manuscript hadn't been clear on whether it would be enough to wake him, but Adam had to believe that it was, or that Michael was already awake on his own and searching for a way out.

He had to believe it, because it was his only hope. The only way he could get his best friend back. His only friend – or at least he had been, back before Adam had met Alicia and Max.

Michael had been his confidante, and the one who had kept him alive both literally and figuratively in the cage, staving off both hunger and loneliness. And even back on Earth, he had stayed, had made it so Adam never had to be hungry or lonely, or in a place he didn't want to be. They had flown all around the world. Kairo, Egypt. Kyoto, Japan. They had walked on the Great Wall of China, and had looked down from the top of the Burj Khalifa, where Michael had begrudgingly admitted that the skyscraper rivalled his True Form in height.

All of this, they had done together – and then, Michael had been gone, taken from Adam by his father, the being who Michael had loved most in the world.

Adam's eyes dimmed at the thought that he himself had never been Michael's most important person, and could never hope to be. But God was dead, or at least 'not a problem anymore', as Dean had said, and Adam stepped closer to the portal, clenching his fist.

“Michael! You said you'd stay with me! You promised-” Adam's voice wavered as he furiously blinked back tears. They had promised to stay together in that dingy motel room in New York, the one Michael had been relived to take them from because even he couldn't identify what had caused the stains on the bed.

Adam almost smiled at the memory, and then he almost cried, and he opened his eyes as the door behind him was thrown open.

“Adam! What-” Dean's voice said, cutting off abruptly as he presumably saw the portal.

Adam only glanced at him and Sam, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of his attention.

“Go away,” he told them.

“Adam, what have you done?” Sam asked, fear in his voice, and Adam tried not to let it get to him.

Yes, he was playing with fire. The portal was meant to bring Michael back to him, but who knew what else might come through, if anything at all.

But Adam had been ready to torch half the world to see his most important person again, once upon a time. He was ready to do the same again, now, for Michael.

Just when Dean started to say something, his voice a growl, the portal changed from black to blue – an angel was coming through.

Sam and Dean both gasped, and Adam felt rather than heard himself doing the same as hope and fear battled within him. Soon, the cabin was bathed in light, windows rattling and the table shaking so much that the ingredients and equipment Adam had used slid off, one after another falling to the floor.

As Sam and Dean's surprised noises turned to pained ones, Adam kept staring straight at the angel pushing through the portal, their True Form filtering through only slowly. But it was soon clear that this wasn't Michael – the halos were all off, and he was more radiant than this one, though the silver gleam of the otherwise blue grace was decidedly similar.

Raphael, Adam decided as the archangel brought the last of themself through, and Adam's body was filled with ice despite the heat in the room.

“Dean!” Sam called behind him, and then Adam heard shuffling, as if his so-called brothers were trying to find the door with hands over their eyes, and they stumbled out of the cabin.

He still didn't turn around to them.

For a moment, some of Raphael's eyes rested on Adam. They blinked slowly, and then the archangel flew upwards, leaving the cabin and presumably returning to Heaven.

Adam thought that the portal would close – that he had gotten the wrong archangel, and that was it. He had failed, had done the spell, had not been good enough- But then, something else came through.

Not an angel this time, Adam noticed with dread, but a demon, black smoke in the vague shape of a woman. It was a fraction of the size of an archangel, and soon it was all through, and collected itself as a dark-haired woman with a smirk on her face.

Baffled, Adam barely reacted as she walked up to him and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “Thanks for the assist,” she said, and sauntered out of the room.

There were more entities then, angels and demons, a steady stream with sometimes two or more at once pushing through the portal. Adam didn't understand how this could be, how he could have woken up so many beings with his one spell, but it was a minor concern at the back of his mind.

The most important thing was to keep looking at the portal, and to wait for Michael to come out.

There were so many angels. Fewer demons, though of them also at least a dozen. Then, when another angel had pushed through and taken the form of a slender blond man who sleeked back his hair and walked calmly out of the cabin, there was a dreadful moment of nothing.

Adam kept watching the portal, which was once again unmoving, though at least it wasn't diminishing in size or showing other signs of closing. And then, suddenly, another archangel – Lucifer, Adam realised with a start, more baffled than scared.

He had no beef with the devil, personally – he had seemed cordial enough in the cage, mostly having left Michael and him alone. But the fact that he was one of those escaping when Michael still hadn't shown up made Adam feel a bit resentful.

Lucifer's True Form blinked like shards of ice in the sun, and a number of his eyes twinkled with something like mirth.

DON'T WORRY, he said, his True Voice splintering some of the windows.

Adam just stood there silently, unimpressed and unamused.

Lucifer gave something like a laugh before he flew away, perhaps towards Heaven or perhaps towards where Gabriel had taken off some minutes earlier – wherever that was.

Then, Adam saw that something else was coming through. Someone else.

With a racing heart, and telling himself not to get his hopes up, Adam watched as more of the angel tickled through. The archangel, he mentally corrected himself.

There were only four archangels, and three had already flown off.

Adam felt tears roll down his face as Michael emerged from the portal, his wings dragging behind but finally fully through and spreading out, silver feathers rustling as Michael adjusted their position.

Some of Michael's eyes had already been trained on Adam, and now more and more shifted to him after taking in their surroundings, though some also turned away, almost shyly.

Adam stared at him. Michael both stared back and avoided his eyes.

One of his eyes wandered to the other side of his True Form to evade him.

Finally, Adam said: “Michael.”

Michael's grace twinkled in what might have been delight.

HI, he said.

Hi. Michael had died, had left Adam all on his own, and the only thing he could think to say to him was 'hi'?

“Hey,” Adam said back, equally at a loss for words. “I- the portal, I opened-”

THANK YOU, Michael said. WE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE IT OUT WITHOUT IT. JACK HAD TO WAIT UNTIL YOU OPENED THE PORTAL.

Adam fell silent. 'We' – so Michael was aware that he wasn't the only one who had escaped, and he was fine with it. And Jack - the new God - had helped?

But that was a question for another day.

“Yeah?” Adam asked, a quiver in his voice. In the many scenarios he had come up with for their reunion, ranging from the happiest day of his life to the worst, he had never imagined that it could be awkward.

YOU BROUGHT ME BACK, Michael said, and Adam noticed the softness in his voice even if the cabin still shook. I DIDN'T KNOW- THAT IS, UNLESS YOU BROUGHT ME BACK TO YELL AT ME-

Michael's True Form didn't have shoulders, and yet he still managed to slump, almost cowering in front of Adam's puny human form.

“Yell at you? Michael, what the fuck are you talking about?” Adam didn't often swear, not in front of Michael, who had about the same sensibilities about it as Adam's mom. But in that moment, it seemed warranted. “I brought you back, because- because I need you.”

Adam's voice broke, the truth of those words leaving him shaking, his legs threatening to give out.

Michael was silent for a long moment.

I SEE, he eventually said, and the detachedness of his tone made Adam's shivering worse. YOU NEED TO EAT AGAIN, AND DRINK. YOU AGE, AND YOUR BODILY PROCESSES-

“What are you talking about?” Adam called, exasperation and tears in his voice. “I need you because you're my best friend, and because you're the only one who I want wrap his grace around my soul like it's a blanket, and because you always sigh and roll all your eyes when I want fast food but you let me eat it anyway, and because you're so grumpy when we wake up even though neither of us needs to sleep, and... and because I don't want to live without you!”

Michael blinked at him with all his eyes, which had focused back on him during his little speech. Even the eye that had fled before came around again to peer down at Adam.

It seemed preposterous to tell an archangel that you wanted him to stay forever. Especially with his siblings back in the world of the living, and Michael being free from his father for the first time in his entire existence. But it was the truth, and Adam could no longer hold it back.

OH, Michael eventually said, and then: ARE YOU SURE?

Adam was still trembling, and had to grip the edge of the table for balance. “If you want to break up with me, just say so,” he bellowed, hurt and exhaustion taking hold in his mind and body as the tension left him and only a bone-deep tiredness remained.

Yeah, so maybe he hadn't slept in two days, and had lost a bunch of blood earlier. And maybe he hadn't eaten properly, too excited to hold anything down anyway.

BREAK UP? ADAM, WE- Michael's grace sparkled in confusion and – something else. WE'RE TOGETHER?

“We have an agreement, remember?” Adam pulled out a chair and lowered down on it, taking measured breaths. He didn't take his eyes off Michael.

After a moment, and with softness in his voice, Michael said: YES. ADAM... I DON'T WANT TO BREAK UP WITH YOU.

“Good.” Adam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like he was about to pass out. ��Do you need... I mean, your siblings all went who knows where, do you want to talk to them before... like, you're coming back, right?”

I- Michael hesitated, which may have been a first for him.

“It's okay, I'll just rest here or something. Oh, uh, I think Sam and Dean are outside, they'll probably be annoying, but it's not like they're gonna harm me, right?” Adam slung his arms around himself, still cold.

I THINK CASTIEL HAS ALREADY TAKEN CARE OF YOUR BROTHERS, Michael said. AND ADAM... I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE. MY SIBLINGS HAVE THEIR OWN PATHS, AND I HAVE MINE NOW.

Oh. That was surprisingly zen for him.

“So you're coming back, like, into me, right?” Adam asked, putting a hand over his chest.

IF YOU WILL ALLOW IT.

“Dude, how else are we gonna hang out 24/7? Come on in!”

YOU HAVE TO-

“Oh, right. Yes. The answer is yes.” As soon as Adam breathed out the last syllable, Michael's grace surged towards him, an almost frightening stream of heat and power that started pouring into Adam's mouth, his nose, and every pore in his body.

Adam had forgotten how overwhelming the possession was – every nerve in his body was on fire, and the world both narrowed down and expanded to Michael, the brightness of his grace, the vastness of his form, the fondness in his eyes and in his essence.

When Michael was settled, grace curling soothingly and protectively around soul, he blinked their eyes open, and looked down at their hands as if seeing them for the first time.

Is it very different? Adam asked, suddenly realising that two years of ageing and life might have changed his body.

Not very, no, Michael said, a whisper pressed against Adam's soul. But I've missed you, and your ridiculously small form.

Hey, I'm tall for a human, Adam told him with playful affront, a repetition of a joke almost as old as their friendship.

Maybe, but you're small in the grand scheme of things, Michael said back, delight flowing from his grace into Adam's soul.

Or maybe it was flowing the other way around, or in both directions. Adam didn't know, and he didn't care, as long as Michael was with him.

I love you, Adam whispered against Michael's grace, a thought so raw and born from desperation that his soul shivered with it.

I love you too, the ball of raging fire in his chest whispered back, and gently squeezed his soul.

And with that – a being with the power of a thousand suns carefully snuggling Adam's soul – they were off. To a new place, and a new life, free of fate and duties.

And, most importantly, with each other.

[macgyvermedical]

Hi hope you’re doing well!

in The Last of Us episode 5, Joel gets stabbed in the gut and immediately pulls the blade out.

Obviously if you get stabbed, the best thing to is leave the weapon in place and get to a hospital immediately, but I’ve heard some people argue that in this circumstance (zombie apocalypse, with enemies pursuing them) that Joel did the right thing, since there was no hospital/surgeon he could go to anyway, and the knife would get in his way if he needed to fight or ride on a horse.

I was wondering what your thoughts on this were because I’ve been thinking about it a lot haha. I don’t think his survival in the show after that stab wound was particularly realistic but, what’s typically the best course of action in such a low resource environment? (I understand you can’t give medical advice obviously)

anyway thanks for your time and have a good day!

The reason you're leaving an impaled object in is because you want to take it out in as controlled an environment as possible.

The most controlled environment, in the case of a gut stabbing, would be a fully staffed operating room with blood products standing by, IV antibiotics hanging, and anesthesia/paralytic agents on board.

The reason for this is that there are a lot of things in the abdomen that can cause severe problems when stabbed. If i'm interpreting the gifsets correctly the stab was in the upper right part of his abdomen. It doesn't look quite high up enough to have hit his liver, but that would be a concern depending on the direction and length of the impaling object. Livers bleed a LOT when stabbed. And pulling a blade out generally does more damage, as well as preventing that blade from putting any pressure directly on the source of the bleeding.

Not only that, but Joel's intestines are probably in the way of the blade as well- they're really packed in there, and it's exceedingly difficult to stab someone without hitting intestine. The intestine, of course, is full of poop. And the sac holding the intestine is otherwise sterile, so if you spill poop into that sac you generally cause a massive, massive infection called peritonitis (the same thing you can die of if your appendix ruptures). Pulling the knife out here would spread the poop around a little more, and again possibly done more damage to the intestine, which also needs to be intact to later digest food.

There is also an aorta, which would have caused Joel's death pretty immediately if stabbed, and some other smaller vessels that he probably could have survived getting severed, assuming they did not serve something he needed later, like a stretch of intestine.

Now, as you mentioned, Joel will never have access to a controlled operating room with trained staff. So while he might be making things worse by pulling out the blade, he know's he's either definitely going to die now because he can't fight/escape or probably die later because of damage that really has already been done, so he chooses the latter, which still gives him the best chance of survival.

Now, his absolute best-luck scenario here is something like this account of low-resource surgery taken from Improvised Medicine by Kenneth V Iserson:

Along with this description of a low-resource abdominal surgery, being sure to flush as much as possible of the poop out of the abdominal cavity with saline as possible- called peritoneal lavage- can help decrease the bacterial load in the abdomen and decrease the risk of sepsis.

Probably the second-best thing he could hope for would be something like the attempt to save Malachai in Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank (fictional prep for an abdominal trauma surgery, but very well described):

[Dan] crawled out and said, "He's in shock and shouldn’t be moved and ought to have a transfusion. But we have to move him if I'm to do anything at all. On what?"

There was a discarded door in the toolhouse. They moved him on that.

They laid Malachai on the billiard table in the gameroom and then massed lamps and candles so that Dan would have light. Dan said, "I have to go into him. Massive internal hemorrhage. I've got to tie it off or there’s no chance at all. How? With what?"

"My hunting knife, the one I shave with? It's sharp as a razor, almost."

"No, Too big, too thick. How about steak knives?"

"Sure, steak knives." The short-bladed steak knives even looked like lancets. The Judge and Randy's mother had bought the set in Denmark on their summer in Europe in 'fifty-four. They were the finest and sharpest steak knives Randy had ever used. He found them in the silver chest and called, "How many?"

"T’wo will do."

From the dining room Helen called, "I've put on water to boil-a big pot." The dinner fire had been going and Helen had piled on fat wood so it roared and Dan would soon have the means of sterilizing his instruments. Randy put them into the pot to boil. After that, at Dan’s direction he put in his fine-nosed fishing pliers. Florence Wechek ran across the road for darning needles. Lib found metal hair clips that would clamp an artery. Randy's six-pound nylon line off the spinning reel would have to do for sutures.

There was enough soap to cleanse Dan's hands. Dan went into the dining room, fretting, waiting for the pot and his instruments to boil. It was hopeless, he knew. In spite of everything they might do sepsis was almost inevitable, but now it was the shock and the hemorrhage he couldn’t lick. He wondered whether it would be possible to rig up a saline solution transfusion. They had the ingredients, salt and water and fire; and somewhere, certainly, rubber tubing. He would not give up Malachai. He wanted to save Malachai, capable, quiet, and strong, more than he had ever wanted to save anybody in his years as a physician. So many people died for nothing. Malachai was dying for something.

In the gameroom Helen was at work, quick and competent. She had found their last bottle of Scotch, except what might remain in Randy's decanter upstairs, and was cleansing the wound with it. Randy and Lib stood beside her. The pool of blood in the round hole ebbed and did not rise again. The water was boiling in the big iron pot when Randy walked into the dining room and touched Dan's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid it's all over."

Third best is probably to pack the wound, since sewing or otherwise closing the wound would trap everything inside. Hopefully there's not a ton of damage to the intestines (a couple of very small nicks might scar back together without needing surgery if he was really lucky).

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 154 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: apple cutting + sitting thrilled on the couch.

Ah yes, I remember it so clearly when I heard that episode the first time. I was almost done cutting apples, but I didn't quite feel satisfied after MAG 152 and 153, those are statement that were a bit subtle for me. So I thought "Okay, I'll give one more episode a shot" (even though the episode title didn't sound particularly interest-piquing) and then it’s a Gertrude tape and I had some problems following a lot of Gertrude statements before, I don't know, her voice makes me sleepy xD And I was already prepared to drift away during this episode again and felt a bit demotivated. But I kept going. Well, best fucking decision ever. As soon as I realized she's reading from the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead I was like "Ohhhhh!"

JON: "And I started to pay attention to the ones I… wasn’t drawn to. The tapes I instinctively wanted to discard." That's very clever, go against what the Eye wants!

JON: "There was one, this one, that my hand… pulled back from. I dropped it, twice, when I went to pick it up." Lol, that actually sounds funny. Like "Whoops! I dropped it... Woaa, dropped it again, ahaha, clumsy me."

JON: "I am the avatar of awful knowledge and revealed secrets." Oh Jon, you theater kid!

GERTRUDE: "“When he opened his eyes, he of course saw nothing" Ok, she already read that part and still couldn't guess what was necessary to quit. Already talked about this in MAG 111 - because of this I think those memory-ghosts of the Catalogue work like the appearances of people plugged into the Matrix, a mental projection of their self. How they most liked seeing themselves. So when it comes to depicting Book!Eric, I think he'd still have intact eyes. Cause he says he "destroyed them completely", I can't imagine how one could not see that, if the appearance is the same as in the moment of death.

I love how similar Eric and Gerry sound, and I don't think it's because of the ghostly echo. After all, we do have a recording of Gerry without that effect. Very good VA choice!

ERIC: "I know that I’m not really Eric; I’m just a memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time." Primarily it's probably meant to be an effect of the Catalogue's nature, of the Fears just doing their job. But I guess the knowledge of not actually being you also makes it weird and uncomfortable. Sometimes I think about that, like what are we anyway? Isn't the memory of oneself's entire life basically what makes one that particular person (+ hardwired personality probably)? Because it still matters on which hardware we run. Otherwise, how would we explain body dysphoria?

ERIC: "You too. (beat) You got old." GERTRUDE: "Better than being dead." ERIC: (short sigh of a laugh) "Fair enough. To be honest, I’m impressed, more than anything. Hard to get old in this business. You either die, or you, uh, stay young. (short, uncomfortable pause) …How did Mary look?" GERTRUDE: (same sort of short laugh) "She got old, too." Well, let's see, this is in 2008. My educated guess from MAG 35 was that Gerry was born sometime around 1983 or 1984. Perhaaaps 1985 when we'll go with the most extreme numbers from MAG 35. We don't know when exactly Mary killed Eric, Eric says he left the Archives months before she killed him. So, Eric died.. what? 1984 or 1985? So he hasn't seen Gertrude in over 20 years! He probably saw Mary a few times since she summoned him to bounce off ideas of him. But even if she kept doing that for a few years and then stopped, 15 years would still be a long time with visible changes^^

ERIC: "And Gerry? Have you seen my son?" Nawwww... He actually calls him Gerry, like he always wanted friends (and probably loved ones) to call him.

ERIC: "Yeah, it doesn’t feel great. But being dead, I s’pose you don’t feel things quite as strongly. Little bit – flat." Ha, flat like a piece of paper!

ERIC: "Elias? Elias Bouchard, seriously?!" GERTRUDE: "Hm, he’s changed a lot." <.<

GERTRUDE: "So. What did they not want me to know?" ERIC: "I quit." GERTRUDE: "You – Sorry, you quit?" ERIC: "Yeah. I figured out how." Well, on my first listen I was sitting at the edge of the sofa at that point, staring wide-eyed at the TMA logo in the YT video on screen.

ERIC: "You know, you were never actually all that nice to me when I worked for you, Gertrude. Not like Michael, or Emma." Hahahaha, very good, let her dangle a bit! I'd like to say I'd do the same but I know that in the end I never want to give people, one: what they did to me, and two: something they could hold against me in return.

Eric: "I don’t know what she saw in me, not really." Not-really counter of S4: 20!

ERIC: "You were almost there, you know, with your theory that James could watch us from any eye, even an illustration. What did you do? How did you sever that link?" GERTRUDE: "My God!" Yeah, at that point I said "Fuuuuck" out loud... My spouse was sitting on the couch next to me was like ?? and I just kept saying "Fuck" over and over again. First: Eyes are one of the body parts I find the most horrific... I can watch every body horror torture splatter movie without problems but when it's about eyes... Fuck off! If I'd be in that position I'd be like "Yeah, you know what, I actually like the Archives! Screw that, y'all go ahead and do what you must do, but keep me out of it." Second, I love moments like this in fiction! The last one like this I remember was when I read The Last Wish (The Witcher) by Sapkowski, specifically The Lesser Evil. When that innkeeper (or whatever that guy was) explained what happened in Tridam and it dawned on me what Renfri was about to do (just like it dawned on Geralt in that moment. I love having the same reaction like characters. When I can discover huge things alongside them).

[TAPE CLICKS ON.] [JON SIGHS HEAVILY.] JON: "Fuck." [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] Yah, same...

JON: "I know. I know what you said, but I just – (inhale) I think I’ve found a way for us to leave the Institute." [BRIEF PAUSE.] MARTIN: "O-kay…?" JON: "Yeah. But it’s – (heavy inhale) It’s pretty drastic." MARTIN: (hah) "What, you going to gouge your eyes out, or something?" [BEAT.] MARTIN: (gets it) "Fuck off!" Such an iconic piece of dialogue xD

MARTIN: "Erm… like, I mean… permanently? Or…" This has the same energy as answering "In general?" to the question of "Haven't seen a dog, have you?"... Those idiots^^

JON: "But we could leave here, you and me. Escape." Eeek <3

JON: (squawk) "Uh, I, I don’t know. I don’t – know. But… maybe it’s worth it? The risk – y-you and me, together, getting out of here –" [MARTIN SNIFFS.] JON: "– one way or another." MARTIN: "Jon." Double Eeeek <3

So what's going on here has a name, URST or UST. It stands for UnResolved Sexual Tension, although I don't like that term cause it's just as well used for unresolved romantic tension. Especially when we're talking about a couple with an ace character, or when it's used in a show for minors about minors (Miraculous is a textbook example). So basically it's a trope to keep suspense going on by having all kinds of obstacles to keep the love interests from actually getting together, usually also having them pine after each other over and over again + once in a while giving them a scene in which it looks like they finally get somewhere. Full disclosure: I'm a sucker for that trope. I loved that in Inu Yasha, I love this in Miraculous (although it's getting a bit destroyed by all the What-if-episodes with a subsequent time reset or memory wipe) and of course I love it in TMA.

JON: "I mean, whatever their plan is for me, I am damn sure that doing that isn’t it. I’d derail everything – we could derail everything, and then just – leave!" Time travel fix-it for TMA is extremely difficult because you basically have these powerful forces which had it all planned out. I think there are actually two points in TMA where it could really take a very different turn. One of them is here. If Jon blinds himself, he won't belong to the Eye anymore and can't complete the ritual. And given what Annabelle says in MAG 197 it sounds like Jon will even survive being cut off from the Eye. (There’s of course still the problem of just going ahead with a new Archivist, so it’s only a temporary resolve...)

MARTIN: "Nothing; It’s just – (one more laugh) It’s just ironic, that’s all." That's totally in the sense of "At any time before taking Peter's deal I would have run away with you in a heartbeat. But back then you never came to me and now when you do it's me who won't do it"-ironic, right?

@a-mag-a-day

[hurtcomfortficstilltheend]

A little post-river pick-me-up.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thames fiasco.

Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.

A/N: The uncover DEPRAC agent didn't die, Joplin (just noticed in the book she's a man btw) doesn't exist, and Penelope Fittes is a good person, because I say so. Also, reader is Lockwood's cousin.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thank God. 

Thank God you were born in a town surrounded by water, thank God your father had insisted on swimming lessons since you were five, thank God you actually learned.

You’d probably drowned otherwise. Jumping from that rooftop, at least fifteen meters high, was already too much of a physical trauma, to add struggling to keep afloat on top of it. Now that you think about it, thank God you’d done all those scouts survival courses too. 

The moment the three of you hit the water, and after the initial sinking -followed by the thermic shock and panic- you instinctively swam up to the surface.The night breeze was somehow even colder than the Thames now.

“Lucy!” You yelled with the first gulp of air you got into your lungs. “Anthony!” You weren’t sure how far they could be, if you had drifted away during the fall, if they were still underwater. It was pitch black, and you didn’t even know if you were safe from the golden blade yet.

You kicked your shoes off into the river to lessen the weight, and considered doing the same with your dressing pants. “LUCY!” You heard some rustling in the water near you, and begun a clumsy front crawl towards it. It was your cousin, Anthony, who seemed to have just had his first breath. You held onto his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He was having no problem with keeping his head above the water, so you let go.

You rolled your eyes, a dry but sincere "Great." Left your mouth, then you got serious. “I can’t find Lucy.” 

He nodded dutifully, but before either of you started calling out for the girl, she popped up a few meters away from you. You thanked God again, but noticed that she was coughing and struggling to stay afloat.

Lockwood got to her first and helped stabilize her, but you noticed that he was just as shaken, so it was kind of up to you to wear the trousers in the situation. Which right now meant to take them off. You had a pair of biking shorts under anyway, no biggie. So you did, discarding your coat into the river as well.

You got closer to Lucy and took Lockwood’s place holding her up. You weren’t sure Lucy knew how to swim at all. 

“We need to get to shore ASAP.” Anthony nodded again. You wondered if today’s events were too much for him, he seemed so quiet, unlike his usual self. You already missed his overconfident attitude.

At some point of the trip to the nearby beach, Lucy had actually started swimming by herself. Still, you kept an eye on her, just in case.

-

Getting out of the river was not as satisfying as you had imagined. You were grateful and relieved to be on solid ground, of course, as the whole group’s muscles were quite fatigued, and you were all agitated after swimming; but the cold that came with it was almost unbearable. The three were shivering violently when you threw yourselves to the gravel to catch your breaths.

Lockwood was the first to sit up. He felt horribly guilty for how the events had unfolded and how all of you had ended up in this situation. He knew it was his fault, his pride started the whole bone glass thing anyway.

Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you all were going to die of hypothermia if you didn’t get home as soon as possible. Besides, sooner or later you were bound to cross paths with a Visitor, and you were in no condition to fight. 

You turned to your side, and saw Lucy looking up at the dark cloudy sky with glassy eyes. Her lips were turning purple.

You jumped up into action, and reached an arm towards your girlfriend to help her up too. She struggled a little bit to gain balance, and so did Lockwood, and so did you, but in no time you were walking towards the nearest ghostlight to hail a night cab. 

Your appearance wasn’t decent at all. You were all dressed in night attire, but wet to the bone and filthy. Lucy’s mascara was running down her cheeks, and you were barefoot and in gym shorts. For a second you thought you probably looked like wet, sad, kicked puppies. Still, a taxi driver took pity on you and parked.

-

You didn’t even have the energy to fight Lockwood on this one, or tell him how reckless he had been, or how you could have all died tonight. You were exhausted. Still, as his family, you had the inherent responsibility to make him take account for his actions. “You can take the shower first, Luce.” You told her the moment you stepped into 35 Portland Row. 

“Are you sure..?” She turned around to look at you, hesitant to climb up the stairs to your shared room. 

You nodded and tried your best to smile for her. “Of course, just don’t use all the hot water again, please.” The joke went right over her head, but she still nodded and made her way to the attic.

You crossed your arms to try and hide your shivering. When you were both alone, you turned to face your cousin. “Dude..” 

“I know. I’m sorry” You didn’t mean to make him feel worse about it, but this wasn’t going to just be forgotten and forgiven like almost everything always was.

“You fucked up big time.” He just gulped and stared at his now water damaged dress shoes. You sighed. It was not the time anyways. “Go shower so I can patch up your forehead.” He was about to complain, but you cut him off with a gesture of your hand, “Don’t lie to yourself, we all know you’re an awful nurse. Now go.”

“You sound like aunt Lauren.” He grumbled. That’s how genetics work, you thought, but before you could react, he had already gone upstairs.

You sat on the second bottom stair step, and leaned your body to rest on the wall. You were facing the door, waiting for George to barge in, and tell you all that the mirror had been safely handed to DEPRAC. You truly couldn’t take any other scenario for an answer. 

-

The dissonant shriek the hinges emitted when the entrance door was opened disturbed your sleep. You hadn’t even realized you dozed off. You clothes were still wet and cold, so it couldn’t have been too long.

“George.” You said standing up slowly. Your knees popped and the general soreness hit you like a tidal wave. “Is it over?”

He turned the key and locked the house. “What happened to you-”

“Long story, jumping into the Thames does this sometimes, is it over?” You repeated. It sounded desperate.

He seemed to understand. “Yes, it is. The furnaces are not on during the night, but I made sure they took the mirror to the lowest level to be incinerated first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” Everyone was inside, everything was okay. You were all safe and alive. You tried to hold on to that thought. You breathed out slowly. “I need a shower.”

Halfway up the stairs you looked over your shoulder. “The entirety of today was a clusterfuck. How does argentinian milk caramel crepes tomorrow afternoon sound? If we go to Arif’s before that I can prepare some. This team really needs a pick-me-up.”

George took in your tired eyes and miserable appearance altogether. He formed a half-smile and nodded softly. You did the same and headed to the small bathroom in the attic, making a quick detour to apply a few steri-strips to Anthony's forhead and calling it a day.

-

You got out of the shower and dried your hair. Your piyamma was already on when you got out of the bathroom and into the room, a cloud of steam following you. The lights were off, but the street’s ghost lamp illuminated enough for you to get to your side of the bed without stumbling over something.

Lucy had been so tired she had fallen asleep over the covers. You picked her up softly, undid the bed and did your best to settle her in, following suit onto your side. She stirred.

“What took you s’long?” she slurred out. You could tell she wasn’t really awake. You answered anyway.

“I was just waiting for George to get home. It's over.” You were lying on your back, and in her drowsy state she got closer and curled onto your side, an arm around your waist. You caressed her hand softly with your fingertips.

“Yeah?” She asked. You hummed in confirmation. Her body relaxed and her breathing evened out. Soon enough, so did yours.

-

The feeling of freezing water engulfing you and getting into your lungs woke you up. You opened your eyes, the adrenalin already in your bloodstream, muscles itching to get into action. But you didn’t. You were safe, in your room with your girlfriend sleeping soundly by your side. It was just a nightmare.

You didn’t want to go back to sleep though; you knew if you did, your mind would come up with more terrors to torment you with. From your position you checked the clock on the wall. 10.52 a.m. Too early for your liking, but it would have to do.

You got up slowly, making sure Lucy's sleep didn’t get disturbed in the slightest. 

Every single fiber of your body was sore, it felt worse than the night before, but it made sense, so you decided to ignore it.

You brushed your teeth and picked up some clothes to change downstairs.

-

After getting the supplies and getting the pancake pan going, little by little the house started waking up. 

“Would you please put the kettle on the stove?” You asked George. He was the first to wake up and the most alive looking, at least compared to the shapeless form slumped over the table, AKA your cousin Anthony. Lucy hadn’t gotten up yet.

It was one p.m. when the last crepe left the pan. They were all stacked up on a plate, ready to be filled with dulce de leche and enjoyed. The tea was already in the teapot, Ariff's swiss rolls on display, and other add ons made by George scattered around.

Still, Lucy wasn’t there.

“Don’t you dare start without us.” you said in an over dramatic manner, pointing at them and making a threatening gesture as you headed upstairs. You knew they were going to be halfway down the stack by the time you came back anyway, but you didn’t actually care that much. 

“Lucy…” You sing-songed when you got to the attic. At first glance you noticed she hadn’t changed position from when you left her a few hours before. 

You sat on the edge of the mattress and ran your fingers through her hair. Slowly but surely, she started stirring, her eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hi.” She croaked out.

“Hi, babe. There are fresh crepes in the kitchen, and I was wondering if you wanted some… you know, before they get eaten by George and Anthony… who were left unsupervised just about now in front of the plate-”

She jolted up at that. You knew it would do the trick, since it was her favorite dish. She smiled broadly, gave you a little peck on the cheek and got into the bathroom.

In no time you were both heading towards the kitchen, holding hands.

-

-

-

Bonus:

You were surprised to see the guys hadn’t gotten to inhaling the food yet. Then realized as they handed you a butterknife, they were just too lazy to actually spread the caramel into the crepes. You rolled your eyes, but prepared one for each, and then another one. You ate last, but you didn’t mind, you were happy you could bring a smile into their faces, even if it was just with something as simple as food.

-

After finishing the breakfast feast, the whole agency, one by one disappeared into your bedrooms to take a well deserved nap.