#this… isn’t quite as “projection”-like as i intended. whoops.

[magicicephoenix]

Projection - The Ink Demonth 2024 (Day 7)

You made me in your image… so I lack a soul!

[kemendin]

After years apart and even more years of pining, Jedi Knight Caspian Serapis is rather taken aback when his new partner, Scourge, is the one to make the first move towards the bedroom. Fervent, long-repressed desires meet inevitable awkwardness, as Cas and Scourge discover how complicated, and how extraordinary, a physical relationship can be.

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge Rating: Explicit Words: 10,400 (yeah not sure how that happened) A/N: Well. After writing Khel and Quinn's first time, this was inevitable xD I actually struggled a lot more with this one - maybe because Cas and Scourge are particularly special to me and I wasn't sure I could do them justice, or possibly because they are a lot more 'srs bsns' about sex than the Imperial lads, and I had to find that balance between 'deeply impassioned' and 'it's smut, don't take writing it too seriously'. Naturally I had to work some feelings in there too. Also featuring questionable headcanons about Sith pureblood sexytimes, those just kind of wandered into my head as I wrote this and never left, whoops xD Anyway, enjoy!

Read on AO3 (short excerpt below cut)

Before Cas can respond, Scourge is grabbing him again. A few backwards steps have the Sith sitting heavily on the edge of the wide, black-sheeted bed behind him. He pulls the Jedi rather aggressively into his lap; a breathless Cas has to hastily wrap his arms around Scourge’s shoulders to keep his momentum from toppling them both over onto the bed. 

This isn’t what he intended, true - but he has no objections to where he finds himself now. Quite the opposite, in fact. Straddling the Sith’s lap on his knees, Cas is struck again by how big Scourge is, and it makes him feel almost giddy as he presses his bare torso to the taut musculature of Scourge’s chest and grinds down against the powerful legs beneath him.

They’ve cuddled many times before, caressed one another, held each other so tightly in the darkness; but this is different, primal and wanton, and it feels so good when Scourge’s arms envelop him as well, holding him as Jedi and Sith push fervently against each other with tight but heated movements - just feeling. Feeling everything.

Well. Almost everything. Cas is starting to vaguely regret not pulling off Scourge’s pants when he had the chance, because they’re teasing him now, thick and heavy fabric barring his skin from the one place he’s most eager to explore.

But his partner is doing plenty to distract him from this small point of discontent. His forceful mouth is slavering over Cas’ neck and beneath his jaw, and his fingers are like claws as they score possessively down the Jedi’s back. Cas releases a loud whine, arching back under the sting of Scourge’s desires. Immediately the Sith stills, stopping all movement as he draws slightly away.

“Am I hurting you?” he rasps quickly, turning his face upward.

The genuine concern in his voice cuts through Caspian’s fog of heightening need. He glances down, and seeing that worry written clear upon his partner’s face brings a flush of warmth to his chest.

“I mean, yes,” he stutters out. Scourge’s expression immediately crunches in consternation, so Cas hastens to add, “But no, don’t - don’t stop.” He bites his lip. “I - I like it.” This admission pushes the flush to his face, even as he lets out a shaky laugh.

Scourge considers him for another heartbeat, then nods. His face relaxes again, and the corners of his sculpted lips twitch in amusement. “And here I thought you might have gone soft on me, Jedi,” he growls in satisfaction. Once again he grasps at his partner’s back, inducing a low gasp as his fingers dig, warm and deliberate, into the taut skin between Cas’ shoulder blades. “I always believed you had some Sith in you.” 

The approval in his voice sends a tingle of delight through the Jedi’s being even as he groans beneath Scourge’s gouging fingers. He should be refuting this, should be outraged, but at the present moment he can only grip at Scourge’s shoulders and gasp out, “You may be right -”

[loisinherlane]

Consider this my magnum opus of why I love Booster Gold and why you should read these comics, but also: how Michael Carter and his family are connected to time travel. It’s kind of a hot mess because I run through a bunch of comics, but hopefully this makes sense!

Michael Carter, alias Booster Gold, is the first new hero introduced after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Booster is from the 25th century, where he was a college football player who got caught betting on his games and expelled, eventually becoming a janitor in a museum.

(Booster Gold (2007) #1)

At this museum, he befriends a security robot called Skeets. Eventually, Booster decides that he wants the adoration superheroes had in the 20th/21st century, and with future technology, he would be able to join up in the past. So Booster steals a Time Sphere, a suit, and a Legion of Superheroes flight ring. (Wait, the legion is from the 30th century, right? Yes. There are reasons this ring is in the past, and that’s mostly because Booster was always meant to become a superhero.) In the past, Booster establishes himself as a superhero, with a manager and number of sponsors. He’s about making money. This doesn’t necessarily make him a lot of friends. But he joins the Justice League International, makes friends with some heroes (including Ted Kord, the second Blue Beetle), and has a standard fare for a non-central character.

So flash forward to Countdown to Infinite Crisis. For those of you who haven’t read this one: This is a lead-in to the OMAC Project, and later, to Infinite Crisis, where Ted Kord notices a number of things that don’t add up. Unfortunately, Ted is not the most respected hero in the community, and no one quite takes him seriously. Wonder Woman says she’s busy but to keep her updated, and Oracle is trying to get him to pay more attention to other matters.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

So Ted seeks out his best friend Booster to help. Booster, after some initial reluctance, joins up. There’s some noticeable moments where Booster hints that he knows some things about the future (particularly, that Ted is going to die, and the Scarab means that the new Blue Beetle, Jaime Reyes, is about to take over): Booster keeps staring at the newly found Scarab. He asks Ted when he found it. Ted, in his narration, hints that Booster knew Doomsday would kill Superman, and he still took the first punch.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

All of this parallels what happens next: Booster shoos Ted away from the computer and takes over. Booster gets hit by an explosion meant for Ted.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

Consider: Later implications of time travel suggest that some small things can be changed, but the big things can’t. If Booster knew what was going to happen, did Booster only postpone Ted’s death?

With that, Ted does die at the end of this story, and a part of The OMAC Project is Wonder Woman and Booster investigating Ted’s death. But as much as I love Ted, we’re mostly talking about Booster and time travel today. So moving on!

In Infinite Crisis, Booster is the one who fetches Jaime Reyes. After returning to the 25th century to access historical records, he tracks down Jaime via the scarab. (Of course, this is another example of a potential change: Booster says he may be saving millions or billions of lives, but this is unsubstantiated.)

(Infinite Crisis #2)

(Infinite Crisis #5)

So this brings us to 52, the fallout of Infinite Crisis. Booster Gold’s plot, while not obviously central in its introduction, plays a major role in bringing back the multiverse to the Post-Crisis continuity. Booster Gold, in the wake of the loss of his best friend Ted Kord, has sold-out again.

(52 #1)

With the help of Skeets, he’s returned to his origins. He wants to be a hero and make bank. Superman’s not around, so who else could Metropolis turn to?

Booster is on the outs though. First, with the heroes: Ralph Dibny blames him for not realizing his wife Sue was going to be murdered. Beatriz de Costa (Fire) shames him for how he’s acting after Ted’s death.

(52 #7)

(52 #4)

Pay attention to that notepad. Booster writes the names of Rip Hunter and his fellow Time Masters, as well S.T.A.R. Labs Time Travel Division. Everyone but Rip Hunter is crossed out. Rip’s name is circled, but he’s noted as “unlisted?????”

Because he’s noticed a number of events that don’t line up with the history Booster and Skeets remember, Booster goes to visit Rip Hunter in his Time Lab in Arizona. Skeets has to hold the door open because of the lock, so Booster goes in by himself...

(52 #6)

...and sees this... (Feel free to read what’s on the chalkboard. A lot of it hints to happenings in both 52 and the One Year Later event, as well as other stories. It can be fun to make connections.)

(52 #6)

...and this. Yikes.

We soon find out that Booster hired an actor to fake an incident on a subway. Why? Well... that answer’s not so clear. But considering the rest of the story, it’s likely Booster wanted to discredit himself.

(52 #7)

Unfortunately for Booster, this ruins his reputation with the public, and he’s soon replaced by a new, more humble hero: Supernova.

(52 #10)

And the public adores Supernova. Meanwhile, Booster’s sponsors pull out as his reputation goes down the drain.

Booster gets one last moment in the limelight, when he pushes too hard trying to upstage Supernova, and he dies... though he’s recognized as a hero for his tragic sacrifice.

((Hold on if you haven’t read 52. You’re going to find this one funny.))

(52 #15)

So... Booster is dead. Ha. What next? Well, Skeets seeks out Booster’s ancestor, Daniel Carter, for help to get back into the Time Lab. After all, Booster didn’t give Skeets the details.

(52 #19)

Daniel lets Skeets see into the Time Lab, where Skeets finally sees the same things Booster saw.

(52 #19)

Whoops! The real problem is Skeets. A little more menacing now, isn’t it? So Skeets abandons Daniel in the Time Lab, where he’s sucked into a vortex that’s part of Rip’s security measures. Meanwhile, Skeets is free to handle his evil plan. Whatever that is.

Back to Metropolis: Supernova is still out there, doing good. He’s also grabbing items that seem a little... eclectic. 

(52 #20)

And everyone is theorizing about who’s really under the mask. Cassie Sandsmark thinks it’s Kon-El. Lex Luthor thinks it’s Superman. Ralph Dibny puts the pieces together...

(52 #31)

But Supernova asks him not to say it out loud.

Later, we see that Supernova is actually working for Rip Hunter. Everything he’s gathered has been for Rip, who, as you can see, is really going through it. (Sad they never followed up on why Rip Hunter was affected like this, but I have my own thoughts that I might say later.)

(52 #36)

Where are they working anyway? In the jarred city of Kandor! Of course, Skeets can’t find them here, can he?

(52 #36)

Whoops. Spoke too soon.

(52 #37)

But who is Supernova? That burning question we’ve had for all these issues?

It’s... Michael Carter! Booster Gold!

(52 #37)

So, as Rip asks, Booster tells him. Booster knew something was off with Skeets. At the Time Lab, he almost asked him. But Rip Hunter arrived and recruited him for the long con. Rip needed Booster to gather materials, but they couldn’t alert Skeets. However, using a suit Rip rigged, Booster could be in two places at once: through time travel. After faking his death (using his real corpse from the future), Booster was sent back in time twelve weeks to complete Supernova’s actions.

Now Rip, Booster, and Skeets are engaged in a battle that, uh... is not continued until Week 50 on panel. If you count this as continued. I just love this panel.

(52 #50)

Actually, Skeets follows Rip and Booster to a lab where T.O. Morrow has searched the Red Torado’s brain to find out the truth of the 52 that he’s been repeating throughout the series.

(52 #51)

Of course, it’s not actually Skeets. The real Skeets was used as a chrysalis for Mister Mind... who has become a horrifying moth hellbent on eating the new multiverse.

(52 #51)

Rip drags Booster out, back to the Time Sphere, where they travel back to the beginning.

(52 #52)

After the events of Infinite Crisis, the multiverse was recreated. 52 identical Earths came into existence, and the same struggle has been taking place on all of them. These Earths are slowly aligning, and for some reason, Rip can see this, but Booster can’t. (Hold tight: Let’s keep in mind, for some reason, Rip was totally non-linear earlier. We’ll come back to this.)

(52 #52)

Rip intends to save all of the Earths, as they slowly settle into the new multiverse, with help from Supernova! ...This time, Daniel Carter, the Carter family ancestor that Skeets/Mister Mind used earlier.

(52 #52)

Bad news is that Mister Mind is still bent on eating a universe. As he eats parts of the various Earths, he changes their history, which leads to each Earth being unique.

(52 #52)

Booster has doubts about their ability to face something this big, but Skeets, now broken from Mister Mind, cheers him on... Booster heads back to the one place he knows to get the right power source, and Rip hints about Booster’s “glory days” soon to come. So now we know there’s a connection between Booster and Rip.

(52 #52)

But where is Booster going to get that power source?

(52 #52)

The immediate aftermath of the first crisis, where he talks a little with very young Ted Kord. (Sad.) Now we have to wonder how Booster knows to go back here? How much about time travel does Booster know yet?

Anyway, together, Rip, Booster, and Daniel succeed in defeating Mister Mind, and the multiverse is restored. Rip is very optimistic!

(52 #52)

So... let’s cut to Booster Gold’s second solo. Notice the title of his first story is “52 Pick-Up.” Booster, after saving the multiverse, wants nothing more than to be a hero again. He wants to join the Justice League again! Unfortunately, he’s recruited by Rip Hunter once again, who makes it clear that Booster’s destiny lies in time travel instead. And the world needs to think Booster is an idiot.

(Booster Gold (2007) #1)

Notice how Rip mentions his father? We’re finally getting somewhere.

Meanwhile, the other weird Time Stuff, that’s going on. Back at Rip Hunter’s Lab, Rip has written a number of interesting things on his chalkboard again.

Notice how Rip notes 1939 (the year Detective Comics was first published), 1985 (Crisis on Infinite Earths), and 2006 (Infinite Crisis). This shows how the crises actually affect time in the DC universe. Rip is, of course, aware of it. Is Booster too? How else would he know about the first crisis?

What is the connection between Rip and Booster anyway? Why does Rip care so much about Booster? Well...

(Booster Gold (2007) #1000000)

That’s right! Booster is actually Rip Hunter’s dad! So a lot of stuff we’ve been over must make more sense now.

But seriously, the Carter family is heavily involved in time travel, and the way it interacts with them is interesting. We’ve already seen how Rip isn’t linear when the timestream is disrupted... but what about the other members? How does this all affect Booster?

Honestly, I’m not sure. And I just ran out of energy for this post. If you want to know more, send an ask! And read the comics. You will not regret it.

[azumasoroshi]

i am in a storytelling mood and you all will now be forced to listen to it

So back in sophomore year, I had this final project for the end of the year. We had to make a book trailer with a partner, and our book was Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay. It's about this high schooler who goes to the Philippines to investigate why his cousin died.

Our school was not an art school; it was just a regular public high school, and so we were not expected to draw the whole thing. We were expected to find some videos, or film ourselves acting stuff out, or use Ken Burns effects on stock images in iMovie. My partner certainly thought that using stock images would be a good idea, and she legitimately saw no problem with the original "final product" of our iMovie low budget shitty production.

However, my dumbass was excited, because I liked animating and the plot of the book allowed for some very interesting imagery. I had ideas, oh so many ideas.

I was a fool.

Because the one fatal thing my dumbass forgot to take into consideration was that I was, and still am, a serial procrastinator.

(the trailer is below the cut)

So, after getting pretty much nothing done, midnight arrived on the due date. And I was terrified, but in that "eh it doesn't really matter" kind of terrified way because I was an emotionless husk and couldn't feel any emotions other than “welp”.

I had maybe 10 seconds done of what was roughly supposed to be a 1 minute and 30 second long video.

My English class started at 10:05.

“Well you had 10 hours, Soro-“ NO I DIDNT

because i had to LEAVE for school at 6:30 and i had chemistry, java, and health between 7:30 and 10:00 so i couldn’t do any of my work during those periods.

So I had about 6 hours to make an entire book trailer. Whoop.

I started off well enough with the Gising Na Ph! posts. Except I didn’t start off well at all and I spent at least two of my six hours trying to figure out how hands worked before finally letting go of any honor I had left in my being and just tracing stock images.

Now, my partner had gotten a few good images on her version of the movie, which she’d graciously sent to me so that I could scrap most of it. And I wasn’t intending to use any of them in the slightest, but by this point it was about 2 am, and I figured I should hustle a little bit. I was planning to import her iMovie into my iMovie and take the photos from there. Easy enough, right?

NO

The file got corrupted somehow and I had to reverse image search every single image that I wanted to use by screenshotting them from the movie rather than having the photos themselves. And for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to try to resemble my partner’s movie as closely as possible, which meant using the same photos. Could I have just found different stock photos? Yes. Was I in my right mind at the time? No. Did I even consider trying to find different photos? Not until 5 am.

Now, along with the movie being corrupted, that also meant that my partner’s recorded voice lines were inaccessible to me. That meant I had to record my own. At 5 am.

I have several friends who are very talented voice actors. They live in Britain, so it wasn’t too early for them. They’d already expressed that they were willing to help two weeks prior, back when I thought I wasn’t going to procrastinate. Should I have asked them? Hell fucking yes. Did I? Well, I just so happened to ask the only one of them that wasn’t awake at the time. Luck and reason are on my side, clearly.

5:30 am, I realized that my friend probably wasn’t going to answer on time. And it just so happened that one of my irl friends had woken up, for some ungodly reason like sleeping on time or something. I quite literally begged him to record two voice lines for me, and lo and behold, he actually did it. He sounded deader on the inside than me, but his character just so happened to require being dead inside, so that ended up working out. He recorded the voice lines on Notability. That was pretty funny.

(around 6 am my british friend saw my message and he was like oh shit whoops ill do it now and i had to awkwardly explain to him that i found a replacement. that wasnt a fun conversation to have at 6 am)

6:30 am I was in the car. The movie was almost done; I just needed one final image of Jun and Jay together, and I wasn’t going to find that on Google Images. I drew it during health class. My teacher definitely noticed and was probably pissed.

10:00 am. I actually went into the bathroom stalls during the 5 minute transition period between classes, pulled out my headphones, and listened to the whole thing just to check it over. (I’m overly paranoid about how loud my voice is in recordings due to a certain incident that won’t be explained in this post) It sounded fine. Everything was fine. It was all good.

10:05 am, English started. A few other groups went before me. I was ready to present. I had the movie open on my iPad, and I was resigned to my fate. I tried my hardest, somehow. That was enough. My partner hadn’t gotten to check over my movie at all, so she had no idea what was about to happen. That was fine.

11:00 am. Class...ended?

waiit shit that isn’t right. i spent all night working on that movie trailer and i didnt get to present it???

WELL, as it turns out, my AirPlay wasn’t working or something and the method of sharing to Google Drive was apparently too time-consuming, so I had to present the next day. A whole nother 24 hours, just handed to me like that. I could do anything I wanted with the movie in that period of time.

What the fuck.

“So you definitely removed the stock photos and made your movie even better in that time, right, Soro?” oh FUCK no dude i got home at 3, yelled to my friends for an hour about how mad I was, and then fell asleep at 4 pm and didn’t wake up until 6:00 am.

I presented this movie the next day.

I got an A+.

[betweentheracks]

My question is regarding styling for promotional work in the US - I see so many female stars who are in a different outfit, with full hair and makeup, for their interviews, sometimes with multiple changes per day. And then, there is their male costar slouching along in jeans and a rumpled shirt for a whole days worth of appearances. Is there a contractual requirement placed on female stars or is this just an industry norm? Thank you in advance for any insight you can offer!

Ah, look at you go Greyface! Taking a real stab right into the black heart of the style industry. How bold and perceptive of you! 🤭

The simple and direct answer is, this is a double standard.

The more complex path that still leads to same resulting answer is very worth traversing though and is filled with the peaks and plummets of the fashion industry's history. So, naturally, we'll walk this way together and take a look.

Buckle up, rack mates, this ride is a doozy. 

The following is my insight and perception as a professional stylist and is subjective to my position and role. 

It is a well and widely known fact of fashion and beauty that at the heart of all the glitz and glamorous there is a horrible ugliness beneath. It is treated as an unseen slight or even a "secret" we shouldn't talk much about. It is as old as fashion itself and has only been worsened over time and with the evolution of marketable style and beauty standards. Women are more promotional than men = women are more desirous than men = women are the pitch and men plunder fame by proxy.

Sex sells. Point of fact; type face bold print. This is the truth of fashion and entertainment and is a marketing strategy at this point.

Specifically, however, it isn't that "sex" sells but rather which sex sells. As in which gender is the apparent and clear choice to use as a promotional feature and living advertisement. The answer is, as it has been for ages now, women. Feminine features are fair and pleasing to behold. They can be dressed up and toned down; styled into an ideal of wanting and craving. Women can be influential to both male and female audiences by beckoning men's gazes to the treats she has for them (treats being whatever it is she is being used to stage and sell) while sitting loftily as an iconic standard of beauty for women to reach for and in turn take up anything to help achieve this ideal (meaning they'll buy whatever is being promoted in their wish to be like the woman on the package).

This strategy and double standard extends well beyond the immediate scope of fashion or upselling the brands of luxury labels. It is also very present in the entertainment industry as a means to promote films, television, and other media. You'll see an actress working the promo circuit or doing interviews dressed to the nines even in casual and laid back styles and then you'll blink and she's done up entirely different but no less coifed and glamorous. Meanwhile her male counterparts and costars are parading about in very understated styles or even sloppy attire, sometimes dressed out in high quality suits but still not quite up to snuff. The efforts of stylists clearly more aimed towards maintaining the woman first and the man second, if at all.

The second and less often discussed pigeon hole that fuels this sexist standard is money. Femme fashion, while typically more expensive, is still unquestionably more versatile than menswear. This is because fashion profits more off female consumption and interest than male and thus caters to that market with more variety and visibility. Wardrobe budgets for filming are skewed with more money funneled into the styling of an actress or female celebrity with a limit on how much is spent on the men. This is symbiotic with the pricing of menswear being less than womenswear but altogether more durable in its make.

It's frustrating and awful and I am ever so glad and thankful that it is slowly having attention called upon it by those within the industry. As modern style continues to evolve and dilute the boundaries between gender stereotypes and typecasting, this double standard becomes more and more frail. Many voices have started gathering in outrage over such rampant and asinine misogyny. Men have come forward to demand that they are as equally marketable and appealing, women have put their foot down and refused to be sexualized or sensationalized. There is the rising trend of androgyny and transgender recognition. Each step is in the right direction and in pursuit of an equal playing ground where women and men can each be glammed up and used as a standard for beauty or poised as a pinnacle of style.

I work extensively with male clients to this effect. I not only enjoy gender neutral styles but have clients that have made it clear they like the glamor of femme styles and want their image to be a balance of masculine and feminine. My oldest client wears heels and likes glittering eye makeup and has often made a case to be allowed to wear skirts or dresses, while my only female artist prefers more of an asymmetrical blending of menswear with feminine accents and likes her footwear to be the type that she, in her words, "can kick ass and stay looking class" while wearing.

There's an uptick in the emergence of queer brands and LGBTQ+ labels in the US with ideals/ethics steeped in the goal of gender neutrality and equality. With them comes the new hope for fashion's future where gender lines are not drawn and women are not the golden rule of promotional value for their supposed sexy/cute/inviting stereotype.

I hope to see men as a campaign centerpiece for lingerie, make up, and other needlessly gendered interests and women in ads for suits and leisure activities such as fishing or mudding and the other inherently male coded interests. I hope to see all gender typecasts and molds fall away entirely with people simply promoting things they enjoy. To see a full cast given the same amount of primping and stylized effort when making the rounds to talk up their projects.

Progress is slow but the world of fashion hinges upon welcoming change and being influenced by current climates and trends just as much as it influences outwardly. One of these days this double standard will be stripped out and the industry will again be revolutionized or it will become obsolete.

Beauty is beauty; people are people; style is style. Promotional/marketable viability cannot stay relevant against the might of such simple truths. The coming years will see the divide between gender being filled as designers and labels fight to remain prominent empires of fashion, and from there other interrelated industries will have no choice by to comply lest they find themselves stripped bare ass naked and lacking affiliations.

This post went and became a sort of tangent, whoops. I'll rest my rambling here and call it good. I intend to make a full post detailing the reshaping of fashion in the height of today's evolving inclusivity of gender roles and norms and the correlation of how fashion has long since been steps ahead in this movement. This ask happens to be a good sounding place for what some of that content will look like.

Fashion and style was never intended to give distinction between the masculine and feminine nor to place significance on gender. Segregation in fashion was initially between wealth and status; a determination of class in way way back when clothing first became an expression. Originally, fashion had no actual gender associations and men and women all worse similar styles of robes that would now be considered dresses. Class and wealth gave way, buckling to the thought of using one's showy status to promote goods to be traded and this was the birth of marketing women as a means of interest. Ever since it has been an internal struggle between ethics of material misuse of rights (sexism) versus capital relevancy (turning profits via brand visibility). A number of fashion houses are guilty of going with the flow and hoping the fortune and reputation made along the way could either cushion the blowback of systemic misogyny one day being aired out or could be used to steadily alter the trajectory of style's evolution.

Consider fashion as a tightrope act being performed between the politics of brand recognition and the conceptual idealism of expression. One small and out of sync step will result in a dire fall with no way of knowing if there is a safety net to pardon a brand or label from plunging into obscurity. This is why the fashion industry prefers taking time to plan careful steps forward and seldom rushes out. Fashion keeps pace while also staying baby steps ahead to change the course of current societal trends, even willing to sometimes relinquish any ground it has in effort to remain on the wire at all. It's a precarious give and take.

Three paragraphs later, truly, I yield to the length of this post and am done. I can’t guarantee this was even close to what you wanted to know and for that I am sorry. I get swept up by the passion I have for the inner workings of the business and lose myself (and my train of thought so if this doesn’t make a lick of sense, that would be why lol). Still, I do hope some of this sheds a little light on the matter. 

[princessamericachavez]

I wanna write a long multi chapter fic about Jack and Shitty becoming friends but also I don’t have the mental bandwidth right now so instead I’m just gonna blurt out a long bulletpoint fic so bare with me

Okay so Shitty B. Knight arrives to Samwell hungry for life and friends and finally some fucking air to breathe and be himself away from his conservative family

And it is fucking great, okay? From the get go he finds that his loud left wing talk is welcomed here, he gets to joke around and be as weird as he wants and no one cares

He hits it off pretty quickly with nearly everyone in the team. Sure, Johnson is a little weird and keeps talking about this merely being the “prologue of someone else’s story” but what he’s really curious about is the quiet Canadian guy that barely talks to anyone

Now, Shitty knows about Jack Zimmermann. Obviously. You have to grow up under a rock to not know about Bad Bob and his kid.

He also knows what happened. It must be a sore subject.

Is that why he’s so quiet?

It’s not that Shitty makes Jack a project. Not really. It’s that Shitty has been in a place where he felt lonely and out of place before and it sucked ass. He wants to help.

So he tries. Constantly.

Because Shitty sees the spark hiding behind the ice cold facade. He sees the way Jack’s face lights up in the rink, how loud and youthfully he celebrates cellys, how protective of others he is in the ice.

That’s a guy he WANTS to be friends with.

Except he can’t. After every training, Jack shuts back up

“Hey, Jaques, wanna go grab a bite?” “Thanks but I should sleep. We got an early day tomorrow.”

“My man, Zimmermann, lets go to that fucking party across campus!” “I’d rather not.”

“Hey, let’s celebrate this fucking win!” “I was actually gonna watch the game tonight. There was a play there that keeps bothering me.”

Anything that isn’t hockey is an instant No from Jack but Shitty is too stubborn to give up.

“Hey, Jack, I was going to train a bit extra on Sunday. Care to join me? You could teach me some of those sick moves.” “Sure.”

VICTORY. Sort of. Working out extra with Jack is exhausting, physically and mentally because Shitty keeps trying to come up with jokes and keeping up 90% of the conversation.

It takes nearly a month until Jack agrees to grab a bite after their Sunday skate and Shitty is so fucking beat that he nearly falls asleep on his burger.

“Hey, Shits, nice ketchup mustache,” Jack chirps him suddenly. And it’s the smallest, dumbest possible thing but Shitty laughs a little too loud and Jacks shoulders seem to lose a bit of that perpetual tension he’s always carrying.

It gets better after that. Slowly, painstakingly, but Shitty finds himself enjoying Jack’s company more and more.

He’s a genuinely good bro. He listens, even when he’s just grunting along time Shitty’s monologues, and he asks questions that shows that he actually cares, every now and then. It’s odd, being taken seriously.

By the end of their first semester, Jack and Shitty are spending a lot of time together. Which is why he asks him to come to the art kids party where Larissa is going to be.

Who? “Brah, Larissa Duan? Just the coolest fucking chick ever! I told you about her the other day, man. She said we should come over to this thing and I would go, but I know shit about art and I would rather not go along and bring my best fucking bro with me.”

After the word vomit he worries that maybe he pushed too far, judging by the way Jack freezes and stares at him like a deer on headlights. But then Jack sighs and says “fine, I’ll go,” and Shitty whoops with excitement

The party goes better than Shitty could’ve ever dreamed. Larissa’s super chill energy seems to have an effect on Jack, who half an hour in is talking about photography with some other art kids and he even agrees to come grab a beer with him and Larissa afterwards.

Until, of-fucking-course, Jack goes into hockey-mode and asks Larissa if she would like to be their team manager. They need one and she seems good at organizing stuff.

“Brah!” “I think it would be cool” “wait, what” “I’ve been looking to do more stuff and you guys are dope. Would I get my own nickname?”

And Jack looks her with that seriousness that means he’s thinking about hockey and firmly says “Lardo” and she says “sweet” and Shitty corrects “swasome” and things are good.

Thing don’t stay good, because as chill as Shitty tries to be, life rarely stays chill.

After winter break, in the smothering tightness of his folks’ home, Shitty finds himself craving that weird and easy friendship with Jack.

Why he finds is a Hockey Robot. All Jack seems to do and talk about is how to get the team to the play-offs. He trains longer than anyone (more than Shitty can keep up with), and when he isn’t on the ice, he is thinking about hockey or talking about plays or or about eating more protein.

Shitty is angry. Not that he would tell anyone (except Lardo) because it’s really not his place (he knows about shorty family dynamics, no pun intended) but he’s mad because Jack’s folks seem to have done quite a fucking number on him over the break and it kills him to even think about it.

And then family weekend comes and Bad Bob himself shows up to Samwell with his beautiful wife and Shitty has to swallow down his anger because Jack wants them to go have diner together and it’s the first human interaction he’s had with Jack in a month so sure he’ll go.

Shitty is good at being nice and polite around people he dislikes. He hates doing it, but it’s like muscle he had to work on growing up.

Except, Bob and Alicia are nice. Like, fucking nice. Even for Canadian standards. They are sweet and funny and normal and keep reassuring Jack about their love and support every third sentence.

And still, Jack has that grim “thinking about the next game” look on his face the whole time.

Shitty is confused as fuck.

The game goes well and Jack is the happiest Shitty has ever seen him as he celebrates his goal in the ice. He even hugs Shitty and thanks him for his assist.

Three games later they are out of the playoffs and Jack shuts down everything and everyone around him.

Shitty tries. He knocks on his door at least twice a day to see if he wants to go over to the Haus to hang out with the team. He offers going out for burgers or a beer or both. He even enlists Lardo, hoping the team manager will be able to snap him out of it.

Jack leaves early for a Hockey Summer camp and doesn’t say goodbye but Shitty hears from Johnson that he also got dibs on a room at the Haus.

Jack actually texts Shitty during the summer. It shocks him so much that he has to double check his phone before replying.

The texts are just to comment on the NHL playoffs and finals, sporadic and robotic at times, but Shitty does his best to drag the conversations for as long as possible. Once the season is over, so are the texts.

Shitty assumes Jack must be pretty happy though since his old bro won the cup.

When fall comes, Shitty stumbles again into Jack’s hockey-robot mode. His intensity is nearly terrifying. He barely speaks out of practice, only leaves his room to go to lecture or the rink. Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping at all.

Shitty is worried. He’s hurt, too, because he misses the friendly Jack that had slowly started coming out of his shell, and he wonders if it’s going to be like this, back to square-one after every break, but most of all he’s worried about Jack.

Lardo tells him to give him space. She says she sometimes gets “on the zone” for an art project and can forget about the rest of the world. Shitty likes thinking of Jack as an artist, but he hates seeing him this unhappy. None of the old tricks work to cheer him up.

Then comes the first Kegster of the year. Two frogs, Hostler and Ransom, take over planing duties and the party is the biggest the Haus has ever seen.

It’s freaking dope.

And then, fucking Kent Parson fucking shows up asking about Jack.

Lardo and Shitty nearly have to drag him out of his room to greet his old best friend.

Jack is cold towards Pars, in a way Shitty has never seen before. He’s downright rude and mean in every comment, no matter how much Kent tries to joke around, and five minutes later Jack turns around and leaves him talking to himself.

He’s jealous, Shitty realizes, and he’s being petty and awful and he doesn’t know this Jack Zimmermann at all.

Shitty runs after Jack upstairs, maybe a little emboldened by the alcohol.

“Hey, brah, what the fuck was that?”

“Stay out of it, Shits.”

“Nah, man, that was weird as fuck.”

“Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Then tell me, man, I’m your fucking friend! Just talk to me!”

Jack slams his bedroom door on his face and Shitty deflates. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they are not friends after all.

The rest of the semester is tense. Shitty tries to focus on his classes, on the ice, on how fucking cool and pretty and funny Lardo is, on the parties and the rest of the team.

It just bothers him. He misses Jack. He’s still there but he’s been absent any time they aren’t in the rink. He’s still great and focused and nearly friendly in the ice, but anything else is like the fucking twilight zone.

It’s before a game that he finds Jack sitting outside Faber, curled into a ball and physically shaking.

Shitty thinks of the headlines about Jack OD’ing, thinks of his tension around his loving parents and his reaction to Kent Parson showing up. Anxiety. The word takes form in his head, clear and obvious and the relief of having an answer hits him so hard he wants to laugh.

Instead, he sits next to Jack, who stirs when he feels him by his side but actually seems to relax when he realizes it’s Shitty who found him like this. Jack lets out a breathy “I’m fine” and Shitty says “sure, brah, but I’m fucking nervous about tonight, mind if I sit here for a while?” And Jack shakes his head. So they sit, in uncharacteristic silence, until Jack’s breathing normalizes.

“Thanks, Shits. Could you not-“ “Don’t worry man, I ain’t saying fucking shit to anyone.” And Jack smiles for the first time in months.

By the end of the semester comes the Epikegster to end all the kegsters. Which means, of course, Shitty gets shitfaced.

Which is why he ends up stumbling drunkenly to his room in the middle of the night to grab another pair of sunglasses because who knows where the fuck his other two pairs went

And it’s why he doesn’t know how to react when he finds two linebackers throwing up on his bedroom floor

“Brah, what the fuck, get outta here!” He yells, trying to grab one of the guys and pull him out to the hallway.

Except, the guy is huge. And he is angry.

Shitty doesn’t know what hit him when someone throws him to the floor.

His brain thinks he’s been checked for a second but then he remembers he’s not in the ice.

The other guys, however, apparently don’t remember they aren’t on the field because the second dude tries to tackle Shitty just as he’s getting up and he barely has time to dodge before one gigant ducking foot goes through the bedroom wall

“Hey, man, what the fucking fuck?!”

Shitty tries to steady himself, increasingly accepting that he’s about to get into a fight he didn’t ask for. He has time to think it’s ironic that his first real fight in Samwell will be off-the-ice.

And then the bedroom door opens and in comes Jack Laurent Zimmermann in all of his gorgeous badass glory.

“Let’s all calm down, eh?”

Here’s the thing: it’s easy to forget how strong Jack is. Shitty is used to hanging out with Hockey Bros and it’s easy to forget that not everyone’s bro’s are big muscley athletes defying toxic masculinity standards one day at a time. But Jack, even when he doesn’t look that big, is one of the strongest people he’s met.

He remembers all this when Zimmermann grabs the two by their shirts and drags them out of the room and all the way downstairs.

Shitty stumbles after them, as Jack pulls them like they aren’t both huge masses of muscle and throws them out to the street.

By the time Shitty reaches the porch, a bunch of big as fuck guys are standing there, looking drunk and angry and ready for a fight.

So Shitty does the one thing that makes sense to him: he squares up next to Jack, ready to fight back to back with him.

Before they can get run over by fists, however, Jack reaches for the only emergency measure in the house: an old as balls fire extinguisher.

Two minutes later, the football bro’s are running away and Shitty is laughing so hard he collapses on the floor next to Jack.

Jack kneels next to him, with his serious hockey face on, puts a hand on Shitty’s shoulder and asks “you alright, Shits?”

Shitty nods, still laughing, and to his surprise Jack laughs too, sitting by his side on the floor. They sit there, chuckling, until the sound dies down and they both sigh at nearly the same time.

Whatever tension there was between them seems to have desipated with that clouth of dust of the fire extinguisher.

“Thanks for having my back, bro”

“Hey, you always have mine,” Jack shrugs. “What are best friends for?”

Shitty cries. Jack freaks out that he might have said the wrong thing. Shitty just hugs him and shouts about being the best bros.

That winter break Jack invites Shitty over to his house and Shitty accepts eagerly.

Bob and Alicia are sweet and happy to have him and keep saying how much Jack talks about Shitty and how thankful they are that Jack’s found so many good friends in Samwell and they’ve heard about Lardo and Hostler and Ransom and Johnson and Shitty most of all.

This time he manages not to cry.

At the end of the break, Jack and him are hanging out and Jack says “Hey, Shits, I’m not good at this but I wanted to say thanks, for not giving up on me when I was acting kinda weird.”

And Shitty just laughs and says “it’s alright man, I figured you have like hockey robot mode and then human mode.”

Jack makes a face. Shitty shrugs.

“I’ll take them both, brah.”

Jack doesn’t cry, because he’s Jack and even his human mode struggles with emotions, but he smiles and throws a snowball at Shitty’s face and that’s all he wanted really.

[cvrnelivs]

— ( harry styles, cismale, he/him ) &. * — meet ( cornelius ‘ oliver ’ edwards ) ! ( he ) is ( twenty five ) years old and has lived in st. helens for ( two ) years . when they’re not helping the town prepare for halloween , they work as a ( baker ) . around here, they’re known to be ( idealistic ) & ( intuitive ) yet ( unpredictable ) & ( destructive ) and apparently their favorite fall activity is ( visiting the farmer’s market ) . safe to say it really wouldn’t be halloweentown without them !

hiya! i am kt &+ underneath the read more is a LOT of info about my bb, cornelius/oliver. ** insert clown emoji but make ‘em yee-haw ** if you’d like to plot you can reach me on here or at space cowboy#8536 on discord !! <33 v excited to interact with y’all and your bbs !!

( DISCLAIMER : THIS IS LONG - WOW !!! just felt a lot of muse !!! apologies !!  ) 

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘

name: cornelius oliver edwards.

nicknames: ollie, ol, lee !! literally whatever - “hey, you” dkjfgn

gender: cismale. pronouns: he, him.

age: twenty-five.

birthday: june 27th.

zodiac: cancer !!

orientation: pansexual / panromantic.

occupation: baker // aspiring filmmaker.

languages spoken: english & french.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

- PINTEREST - featuring his wardrobe, his home, his aesthetic, some character inspo and olive, his german shepard pup !!

- SPOTIFY PLAYLIST - what oliver is currently listening to !!

personality type: INFJ-T / THE ADVOCATE

moral alignment: chaotic good

style-wise: oliver is v stylish, but isn’t overly flashy by any means. he’s intuitive in the sense of what works and what doesn’t. willing to explore the latest wardrobe craze, but also just likes what he likes and likely won’t venture out unless pressed by another to do so. post coming soon for his wardrobe !!! they say that the cancer man’s clothing is selected to reflect “ sophistication over flash “ but kdgjn i’ll let ya’ll be the judge of that. he’s v much harry inspired clothing wardrobe, but also tones it down with some casual looks, especially with being in the bakery and getting his hands dirty in creative aspects !!

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

   oliver was born in kent, england. he’s the youngest in his family of three, having an older brother and sister w/ two loving parents. when he was nine, his family packed up and moved to southern california, where they resided until oliver left for college on the east coast - his family trading off between living back in england and on the west coast throughout the year. upon moving to a new country at a young age, oliver truly found himself via escaping into various books and movies. often attempting to write his own and would force encourage his siblings to act his skits/plays out for his parents enjoyment. growing up, oliver also enjoyed playing all types of sports ( his parents kind of threw him in hoping he’d make friends ), but when it came down to it, athletic abilities-wise, there truly wasn’t anything that he wasn’t ‘ good ‘ at, and that’s simply because he’s always been such a competitive individual / as well as a perfectionist. that competitive/perfectionist energy caused him to go home and practice a skill or trick for hours in order to be able to come back the next day and whoop everyone’s asses. throughout highschool ; oliver was a v dedicated student. although he’s a bit reckless and loved to goof off, he was always acing classes and applying himself. he genuinely cares for others, you could’ve seen his ass volunteering at a soup kitchen with his mom on sundays and what not, as well as take part in various clubs and sports ! just SOFT and sportythings.

   post-high school, oliver attended NYU double majoring in film & television and dramatic writing. despite his extensive and well received portfolio, oliver has always been a perfectionist and overcritical of his work, unwilling to share his projects with anyone until he deems them to be ~ perfect ~ himself. after graduating, he spent a year traveling, trying to find a bit of inspiration around him and taking up odd jobs to get some $$ of his own, dog walking, attempting his best at being a handy man, etc !! he moved back home to socal, and eventually made his way up to st.helen’s after he was sent a job posting for the bakery in town !! although he knows he doesn’t want to pursue a career in baking forever, he’s enjoying his time while trying to find a bit more muse for his future film&writing career.

   overall, oliver can come off as a bit reserved, and distant whether that be a result of his untrusting nature of others, or simply unfamiliarity. it takes a bit of time before he feels comfortable to share his true opinion / commentary / only doing so when he feels secure to do so. he’s not necessarily unfriendly, just a bit distant / lost in his thoughts. which varies, as with most ppl ofc, upon person to person and his level of comfortability among them. despite his often lack of conversation, he abhors an uncomfortable silence to settle and will fill it with nonsense to simply avoid the feeling altogether. so, if you ever want to catch him rambling, just making him uncomfortable dkjfngdf. he definitely approaches most things with a bit of ‘ tough love ‘ . he doesn’t mind getting into a quarrel or two if he knows its worth the outcome he’s envisioned. oliver will tell others when they are fucking up, and if they are throwing a punch as a result - catch him leaning into it, which explains his bout of reckless antics. he can come off as a know it all, when it comes to advice giving, but more so because he thinks he’s really good at analyzing others and situations they are in, not necessarily because he’s lived through them himself, he’s just rather intuitive and able to empathize quite easily with others despite his verbal admittance of it. when it comes down to this binches reckless bits, he just feels so intensely that he ends up numbing himself in the aftermath of it all ( especially bc he’s definitely not sharing those feelings with the people around him ), therefore he’s willing to put himself into harms way in order to get a bit of that - happiness / pain, it doesn’t matter to him as long as he no longer feels overwhelmed by numbness. so, if ya see him with some scrapes and stitches ~ mind ya business. but he’ll likely try to drag somebody else into it, and make it seem like it was their idea. but if he is truly comfortable with somebody, he walks a fine line of won’t stop talking, especially if it’s an interest of his, and comfortable silence.

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 & 𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖘

he is a CANCER, therefore in this essay i will..... kidding but here’s some fun cancer info i saw that applies to my bb !! at first he appears to be wistful, sarcastic ( maybe a lil crabby ) , shy, distant and mysterious. this personality remains if he isn’t completely comfortable around somebody. but overall, that’s just his facade, his ‘smokescreen’ of sorts to scare off the world from his outwards persona. underneath that layer ( makes me think of shrek metaphor with onions // don’t mind me ), BUT he’s gentle, kind and affectionate ( if you manage to make it to that level * bell dings * ) !!! overall, oliver is a sensitive soul, a bit emotional although he’d rather d*e than show that to others. likely will internalize anything that can hurt his feelings / a low blow and will do something chaotic as a result later on bc of it. very polite, and a little worldly, he is truly the epitome of old-school gentlemanly manners. chivalry coming as a second nature to him !!

that was getting ramble-y, so continuing HERE. but when it comes to romance, as per the cancer man, the concept of love is a mystery, one that oliver is trying to attain. however, his shyness and innate distrust of others make it difficult for him to allow himself to fall in love. his guard is always up when it comes to his emotions, and it’ll take a bit of prodding before he’s willing to speak up on what’s desired from him. he’s v picky when it comes to finding the “ partner of his dreams “ - but he’s def willing to throw himself into the romance of the situation, i.e. buying flowers, riding white horses, and slaying metaphorical dragons. the traditional side means that he will shower his partner with thoughtful gifts, wine and dine them in the best restaurants, and try to grant their every wish. he will take the garbage out, fix that wobbly shelf, navigate on road trips, and kill more so trap and release bugs for his partner, and most important of all he will do it all without being asked. his loyalty and keen attention to the needs and wants of his potential partner. so basically, more so willing to showcase through actions than speak on it. it’s the little things, right ??!?!?! he def cherishes not just the act of being in a relationship, but what it means to become one with another person in mind, body, and soul.

prides himself on being able to make a mean cup of coffee, likely the worst person to watch a movie with bc he knows exactly how it’s going to end after only watching five minutes of it, he has a godawful sense of direction, will walk in circles for fifteen minutes before even raising a question about it/noticing ( but he refuses to acknowledge it. )

his house, car, workspace, junk drawer, closet….you name it - it’s organized, practically sparkling. often times arranged by color, and / or style. nothing is ever out of place, and if it is - there’s trouble brewing. but, more than anything, if he’s visiting somebody’s place and it’s messy, he will spend a solid thirty minutes picking everything up before doing whatever it is that was intended.

likes : reading, flowers, handwritten notes/letters, deep cleaning, baking, curating soundtracks for his film projects, watching the history channel and true crime docs and playing / watching hockey !!

dislikes : artichoke, clutter, sandals ( fkjgh ), unrealistic plotlines in movies &+ burnt coffee.

habits : smoking cigarettes - although he’s been meaning to quit. likely has a severe caffeine addiction, although he’s now normalized having six cups of coffee throughout his day. he’s an early riser, no matter how little the amount of sleep he’s received, he’s always the first to rise - for his early morning runs !!

strengths: creative, insightful, inspiring, convincing, determined and passionate, decisive, altruistic, intuitive !!

weaknesses: sensitive, extremely private, perfectionist, low-key always needs to have a cause / purpose, can burn out easily !! 

overall : oliver truly strives to be kind, and genuinely wants for everyone to get along. treat people with kindness and the like. he has the best of intentions, but often times that can get a bit muddled with the way he goes about things due to his bit of chaotic energy / as well as his often points of getting lost in his thoughts. he won’t realize he’s been quiet for the last three hours unless it’s mentioned to him. he will do anything to lighten a dark mood, and will sacrifice / throw himself under the bus if its needed. however, he also is the type to cause the dark mood depending on the day. wahoo! his more reckless antics increase when he’s feeling a bit emotional !! but he’ll likely try and convince somebody to propose the idea so it’s not on him. 

𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

in an attempt to throw himself into the town’s traditions and what not, after moving to st. helen’s oliver decided it was upon himself to put on a very spooo0ooky haunted house! so, catch him converting his home into a haunted house for the month of october !!! nothing cheesy either !! it’s more a psychological scare dkjgn with some gore elements !! EnTeR iF yOu DaRe !!!

he bounced around playing sports growing up, but favored ice hockey and field lacrosse out of them all.

HE WANTS TO JOIN A BOOKCLUB PLEASE !!!!!!!! or at least have some casual moments of silence with another reading. plz and tysm.

he is a vegetarian ! he has been since his freshman year of high school and has no plans on eating seafood/meat ever again.

he loves fancy wine ~ he’s cultured. visits seb’s winery v often !!!

he can play the drums !!

he collects vintage matchbooks and the stickers off of various fruits ( he puts them in a little notebook - can be found on his bookshelf ).

saves handwritten notes and letters from pals.

he loves to garden !!!! he has a specified rose shearing hat.

to make things a bit simple, he has all of harry’s tattoos !!  might add more along the way !! stay tuned, folks !!

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

honestly, i am so up for anything !!! please accept this ramble of ideas thrown below.  if you have any other ideas, lmk !!!! <3333 :’-)

( 2 / 2 ) - BFFZ : the z for an added emphasis dkfjgnd. somebody who likely has a key to oliver’s house, they can enjoy one anothers company as well as the bouts of comfortable silence. you know how best friends are but kdjfngd still !! whether they are likeminded or polar opposites that just flow ~~ down for anything !! even a trio of sorts ?!

( 0 / ?? ) - MUSE(S) : somebody that he often strikes inspo from for his short films and what not !! or has starred/he plans to have them star in his future compilations of sorts !! can be simply from their own ideals, their look / ~vibe~ dkfjgn // whatever !!

( 1 / 1 ) - RIDE OR DIE / CHAOTIC COMPANION : it would be wrong to say one is the more likely the bad influence over the other, although oliver may just be. these two find themselves bounding into, well hell, ( i guess??? ) together. playing on one anothers impulsiveness and if one ends up in the back of a police car, the other is handcuffed to them. and yet despite the length of their potential injuries, they find themselves thinking of something crazier to subject them to the next time around.

( 1 / 1 ) - GUARDIAN ANGEL / GOOD INFLUENCE : with ollie being a bit chaotic in nature, he needs somebody that is likely going to steer him clear from all the ideas that’ll bring him to the brink of disaster. he’s impulsive and in that desperate attempt to feel again, he’s very likely to bring a bit of mayhem upon himself. so while they may be worrying and attempting to talk his ideas down, he’s trying to get them to go along with his plan. it may be rare that he actually takes their advice, but when he does it seems to be for the best.

( 0 / 1 ) - PARTY FRIEND : these two know how to have a good time together. despite the amount of alcohol they are throwing back and the shenanigans they find themselves in as a result, this is a time where they also find themselves confiding in one another. if you look at their camera rolls, it’s likely they have tons of embarrassing and unflattering videos and pics of one another, in between their sob-worthy confessionals and venting/rants. these two trust one another, and although they love getting wreckT together, they find themselves discussing very raw and personal details. likely the only person oliver confides in, simply bc he’s completely plastered.

( 1 / 1 ) - SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP : these two have a love/hate relationship, very sibling like filled with pranks, competition, teasing and playful banter. however, when it comes down to it they have so much love and respect for one another. they know that no matter what happens they will always have one anothers back and be supportive of the other. truly a pure content filled relationship.

okay quick mention, ENEMY PLOTS ?!?!?!?!?!? i would live for one. i can’t imagine oliver being hardcore nasty, but i’d like to see whatever version comes out for this. so let’s get it djfngjakdfg maybe they just hold different viewpoints on the world and what not and clash, anything really !!! v open !!

( 1 / 1 ) - MENTOR - oliver needs a bit of structured or unstructured guidance, all depending on what their deemed mentor is wanting to impart on him, a bit of wisdom or slight chaos. kdjfgn he’ll take anything !! life advice in any and all aspects. maybe they come into the bakery, or maybe they help him with his garden. who knows, i certainly don’t know how they met, but we’ll figure it out ?!?!

RANDOM LITTLE IDEAS : maybe they’ve heard of one another in town, but haven’t quite met yet! or maybe they see each other around all the time, but have yet to introduce themselves to one another but low-key maybe in some online forum for the town together ?! who knows some fun things kdjnfg i AM OPEN !

ooh maybe a slowburn of sorts ?! something spicy to wreck ollie’s and my life with.  dkfjgn we can base this off of chemistry !!! :’-) 

[nikkyshows]

Forest of Misery

DISCLAIMER: reposted here to the new blog

What Colin does after Lila leaves for the Garden with the soul she took (follows this and this in the storyline).

Also this is day four of @violetvineyardnetwork 's pride week. Green/Nature. Colin doesn’t have a label for himself quite yet, but he does fit in the LGBT+ group. 

Hooray for me multitasking here^^ — doing an actual piece and the pride week thing (even though this wasn’t planned originally, but its important that it got added). Is that even allowed? Oh well, I did it. This should work okay enough on its own if not.

1055 words and no warnings. Happy reading!

*****

Colin stands in the balefully empty forest alone. He presses a tightly balled fist to his hand and screams.

She actually went through with it. Even after he came to stop her, to beg, try to make her see sense and ask her to stay, she still — she just left on her mission disregarding his pleas and his cautions.

He knew she would, has tried to caution her away from it before, but she never listened. She kept her determination closer than she kept him and that’s why he was going to lose her. Why he had. His best friend.

Lila was always been honest about this, about how this was something she’d do regardless of the consequence to her. He never understood, couldn’t, when he didn’t know why it mattered to her so much or how she even knew about it all. But it did and he hadn’t been enough to change her mind. 

He lowers his fist, but keeps it bunched. He still wants to scream, to howl his failure into the charged air, but knowing it too delicate to handle a powered screech. Her magic — muddled with what was already there and what she brought up — lingers around him, most likely the last taste of it he will ever feel.

Any spark too powerful could wipe this forest from existence. The spell she’d used, whatever it was, was powerful in a devastating way he didn’t think a single being capable of.

But he’s been wrong about quite a bit lately. What’s one more to add to the list?

“Why...” he taps his hand to his leg, frustrated beyond words, trying to neglect how he’s not angry at all, just... crushed. “Why did you have to go?”

He feels something stir under his feet, deep in the earth. It feels like wakefulness, arousing from some deep slumber. It feels true, and he holds his breath and hopes it ignores him.

A second of movement and he knows what this is. The knowledge bounces in his brain, echoing.

Things like this were rare. Creatures born not from womb and blood, nor touch or love, but tragedy. Names lost and redone, Voreaks. Beings born from magic cast in times of extreme duress, a pure kind of heartbreak that soaks the land and mars it. From emotion so pure and primal it becomes it’s own magic, its own life. This place, it feels sacred, quiet, like all places of once-greatness, now-nothing do.

Now he knows why.

He hadn’t know that one dwelled here.

You wish to know? It asks, says, deep intonation rumbling in his ear, though it’s soundless. It is nothing, in all the ways anyone looks for. Most think them another mortal-dreamt monster twisted out of proportion.

“I... no.”

You asked. It stirs, palatable in the air, thick. I can tell you. For a price.

“Price?” He’s not supposed to talk to them, they eat things like him, and it can linger and swallow him any moment, but he can’t help the instinctive word. (Maybe its the pit in his chest making choices for him, deciding that his life isn’t all that much without the one who helped him save it).

Yes. It curls around him, blanketing him in shadows. A spell, perhaps? A filled hunger for a filled hunger. Truth for a meal.

He hesitates, feels the tug of suggestion weakly within him. “A truth?”

The Voreak shifts, lifting to nip at the sole of his foot. Yes. That girl reeks of illusions. Falsities. Aren’t you curious? It brushes its maw against the forest floor, still sunk beneath the surface, tethered to the town buried beneath the earth, the grave of the soul Lila took. Is she not an ally of yours? A friend?

He thinks back on her poring over books she never allowed him to peek at, instructions not to bother her for an hour, sternness he never understood. “She is. We’ve known each other for years.”

Years? It sounds almost surprised, but the grumbling roll of it’s words (it’s mind-consciousness speaking within him) seems sinister. And she still hides from you?

Colin shakes his head, pressing fingers to his temple. “No.”

Do you even know what tongue she spoke? What spells she used?

He lowers his hand, holds it at his hip. Repeats himself quieter, somber. “No.”

Lila had only ever called it an old tongue, shrugging off his curiosity with given disinterest. Oh, you wouldn’t want to know. It’s hard to learn. It wouldn’t be of any use to you.

He remembers pleading with her. Why won’t you tell me anything? I can help you. I want to.

When he had, though, she’d just looked at him with eyes too wise and too sad for him to push her harder. Eyes of one who was close to breaking, or who was still healing from being broken. When she’d looked at him like that — he hadn’t been able to bring himself to make selfish demands.

If she thought she could do it alone, than she could. He would wait for her invitation.

One she never offered.

But, with time, she had told him some details. And suddenly, he’d grown cold to her project. Maybe if he hadn’t, she would have let him help. Maybe they could have found a way that would let her live, to stay.

He’ll never know, though. But this Voreak— it was offering him what she didn’t. More knowledge, crucial details to fill in all the empty space.

“What kind of spell?”

Something filling. New. Draining.

“Draining,” he murmurs, tapping his thigh. “Alright. I can do that.”

He closes his eyes, breaths deep, and does a spell he hopes is well enough. He snakes his focus forwards, curling around a tree, ascending. When it’s length is wrapped tightly around, he blows out his breath sharply.

The tree trembles, shaking, and falls away to ash. Within the pile, lies a grouping of red berries.

Colin opens his eyes, feeling a little weary. “Life to death and repeat again,” he says, voice cracked.

The Voreak trembles in glee, soaking up the waves wafting off the changed tree. The tongue she spoke, it practically moans, was Atlantean.

Colin freezes where he stands, weariness wiped away with his pounding heart.

And that boy was it’s hero.

*****

Tags: @citrusysumo @emikoshiriyuki

Whoop. Cliffhanger-ish? Guess I’ll just have to expand on this little series more than I’d originally intended. Oh well. The next part (part 3 that follows in Lila’s POV like was planned) should be up soonish. After this week at some point.

Also I created the Voreak for this. Thinking of doing a creature info/about post for it, if you want because I don’t wanna info dump here. It’s pronounced vor-ache, though (prob not how I’m supposed to write that, but whatever). I hope you liked it and this part!!

[dream-girls-evil]

⭐

Oh boy someone finally took pity and is gonna let me talk about The Lovers XD

This project got...SO much bigger than intended. It started as a funny crack idea I sent to another CAOS blog about Lilith freaking out about Adam and asking Zelda to be her fake girlfriend. And then I actually started thinking about it, and it has now turned into a four-part series. And it’s going to be angsty. Crack and angst, that’s my brand.

The titles for the series, The Lovers, is a reference to the tarot card. It represents a choice to be made in one’s romantic life, one that often has serious consequences and might be irreversible. It’s going to come into play on both a literal and metaphorical level. We never saw Zelda’s third card in the Tarot episode, and with what I’m setting up, The Lovers will be fitting. But it’s also just a theme of this series--Zelda and Lilith both wanting to choose each other and not always being able to, and the consequences there are for their choices.

The titles for each part of the story, after several re-labelings, come from the song Deep End by Birdy. They are 1) Can we just pretend? 2) I wish they’d told me, 3) How do we mend? and 4) If you mean everything. The titles as well as the general vibe of the song itself should give you a really good idea of the tone and content of this fic. There’s a lot of longing and love but also regret. I actually first heard this song on a Zelith video (here), and while my story is very different than the one the video portrays, it’s themes and hopeful ending are really what inspired me to use the lyrics. I also love this song because it’s not strictly and obviously about romantic love, and neither is this fic. It’s going to be a very slow burn to their eventual relationship, because it’s really important to me that they truly bond as friends and get to know each other as people first. Right now, they each need a friend and confidante much more than a romance, and part of what I think gives them so much potential as a couple is how similar and well-suited to each other they are on those basic levels first and foremost.

Everything else below the cut!

Can we just pretend?

Oh, so much to say about this fic. I love fake dating fics, it’s just a hilarious trope with so much potential for awkward and absurd situations. Plus, I know there are several in this fandom, but they’re all AUs, and I think one of the fun parts of setting one in the CAOS universe is that Lilith and Zelda are trying to fool each other just as much as everyone else. Their motives are really layered and at odds, which is great to watch since they are both so good at acting and manipulating, so in the course of trying to play each other they find that they’ve kind of met their match and enjoy the challenge. 

For Zelda, on the surface (and what she tells Lilith), her central motivation for everything is still trying to gain power within the church, and with Blackwood still being her best route to do that, she wants to use this fake relationship to make him jealous. Really, it’s just adding another layer to the pressure she puts on him to make their relationship legitimate. But also, she has reason to want to keep him away for the moment: Leticia. Then, finally, of course, she just wants to stay close to Lilith because she’s suspicious and hopes that if they spend time together, she’ll be able to monitor and limit Lilith’s interactions with Sabrina, plus improve her chances of catching the woman in a lie. 

This part of the series takes place starting with the events of A Midwinter’s Tale and ending a little after The Epiphany, and you’re all in for a wild ride. There’s lots of shenanigans, but also a lot of softness and angst--and that’s where the layered meaning of the title comes in. It is obviously humorous because this is the question Lilith asks Zelda in the beginning--”please pretend to be my girlfriend and help me out”--but as things go on and the two of them start to actually bond, it takes on another context. A fake relationship needs a fake break up, and they both know that once that happens, things are really going to change. Zelda will pursue Blackwood, and Lilith will continue doing whatever the Dark Lord asks her to do with Sabrina. There’s not really going to be room in their lives for this real friendship that’s formed, but they want to pretend they’ll make it work. Whoops, started with crack then gut-punched you with feelings. 

Anyway, there will be bed sharing, Hilda completely misinterpreting things, a whole side plot with Vinegar Tom, awkward dinner dates, temperamental telekinesis, and hide and seek in the mortuary! Yaaay!

I wish they’d told me

So, this part is sad? Sorry. After their fake break up, they are both moving in different directions and really trying to pretend they don’t miss each other as much as they do. And while they are trying to hang on to their friendship, they choose their own plans over each other a lot. This also takes place over the remaining episodes from part 2, so there’s a lot of heavy content in general, and honestly, not much is going to change just because Zelda and Lilith are on better terms.

The thing with this section is that there will be a lot of added context to certain scenes. Blackwood’s passion play will be a direct dig at Lilith, and knowing Zelda was involved with it will make it hurt all the more. Lucifer giving Blackwood His blessing to marry Zelda will be to minimize her influence on Lilith as much as Sabrina. Lilith’s tricks with the tarot cards and her glamour of Edward will be to try and help Zelda as much as for her own ends. 

The only really big thing that changes is that without Adam and his offer of taking Lilith to Tibet, the awful dinner scene will be replaced with Lucifer taunting Lilith about what Zelda is going through, since it lines up with the honeymoon. But don’t expect Lilith to save her, unfortunately, because she’s terrified of what Lucifer would do to both of them if he found out she interfered. Plus, she is conscious that it would bring up a lot of questions if she did, like how she knew Zelda was in trouble, and she’s afraid of that, too. Which brings us to the end of part 2 where, obviously, everyone finds out who Lilith really is, and it’s much worse because they all genuinely care about her and trusted her.

On the bright side though, we will see Lilith’s relationship with Sabrina, and the Fright Club and Spellman family by extension, improve, and how that affects them both. It’s going to get very awkward for her at times listening to Sabrina and Hilda treat her like Zelda’s ex and lament their break up, but they’ll also show her a lot more care and consideration and go to her for help more, which is a very odd experience for Lilith.

How do we mend?

Part 3! Kudos to everyone who’s actually read this far, because I know it’s literally a fucking essay. Anyway, as should be obvious from the title, this largely deals with Zelda and Lilith trying to figure out their feelings for each other in the aftermath of Lucifer’s imprisonment. On the one hand, Lilith’s betrayal is a lot more personal for Zelda. On the other hand, because she knows Lilith a lot better, she realizes a lot more of the truth about Lilith’s relationship to Lucifer and exactly what she went through. So Zelda is dealing with a lot of guilt and confusion about what was real and what could have been done differently and how she actually feels about Lilith after it all. So, again, we have a lot of added context to some of her actions, like deciding to have the coven pray to Lilith.

Meanwhile, Lilith is just lonely. She’s got her crown, but she’s also lost the first people who ever really respected and cared for her, even if they didn’t really know her. She wants to talk to Zelda and explain but doesn’t feel it’s her place. Bring on the yearning. Eventually they will be brought back together though, and that’s the start of this series really diverging from canon, because Lilith’s relationships to everybody is going to change how they handle a lot of events. Plus, I just really want to do a better job with Mary’s plotline and the pagans’ portrayal than canon.

They’ve got a lot to work through and work out, and will finally have to really confront and examine their feelings for each other, especially with some of the very emotional things they go through. They’re very protective of each other, and I love it. Another interesting thing will be when Marie comes on the scene and shows interest in Zelda. I haven’t quite decided how I’m going to play that dynamic yet, but I do know that it’s not going to be one of jealousy or competition. I’m not into that. They’re all mature adults perfectly capable of respecting each other’s boundaries and choices.

If you mean everything

Finally! Part 4 is the least planned out, since it’s so far in the future and so reliant on how the pacing of part 3 works out, which I don’t know yet, and also whatever I take from part 4 of the show, which I don’t know yet. But I do really want the main focus to be on Lilith and Zelda working through their respective traumas in the context of their relationship. They’ve both been through a lot, and they need to learn how to talk about it with each other. And I think that they’ll still be having some trouble coming to terms with the intensity of their feelings, because love isn’t something that’s been abundant in either of their lives really, and it has a way of changing your priorities even if you didn’t plan on it. I do think this part will probably end up being shorter and more like an epilogue. I’m definitely not going with the pregnancy storyline, so Lucifer/Blackwood will probably end up captured at the end of part 3 unless I can think of another way to have them escape or separate them.

WOW this was literally so much, let me know if you made it through! XD

I hope it was somewhat interesting. I didn’t even try not to give any spoilers because I’m me and overshare. But I hope it got everyone excited for this story and inspired to keep bugging me about writing it, because I need it.

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Oh, great HEAVENS and HELLS and All the Skies ABOVE!

I sang my heart out. And I actually really LIKED the way my voice is sounding! I’ve been teaching myself to sing with More Emphasis on Where Notes Change (cleaning up my pitch especially), but ALSO a lot on EXPRESSION. Bright and happy, warm crescendos for a Happy Moment, and the longer, smoother lullaby sort of legato for the sadder, dismal songs. Sweeter note swings for adoration and mournful keening in a song of loss. I’m learning how to stay not only On Key, but how to Adjust my Tones within that pitch to express more emotion!

And I’m learning, mind you I’m using technical training I received in choir and show choir and senior choir and music theory classes, I’m learning the difference between Purely Scientific Breath Support, and a PASSIONATE all-in huff of the diaphragm!! Theoretically I knew how to RECOGNIZE it, but actually capturing that Feeling was something I always struggled with.

I’ve done a lot of work in the past few years to Unlock my Emotions. I’m getting better at letting them out into the world verbally, and I’m getting better at doing that vocally as well.

Something magical happened. Long story short? Someone enthusiastically, sincerely, 100% honestly COMPLIMENTED my singing!

Last week, Wednesday I think?, I had gone out for a walk. I intended it to take 45 minutes, maybe an hour. Just, enough to get some exercise. But as I was walking, I was singing. And I found something in myself, I can’t quite put a name to it. But that fear of others hearing me? It just.... wasn’t there, as anything more than the faintest shadow faded by the bright light of... some kind of CONFIDENCE!

Now, mind you, I was singing along to songs from Tarja’s Into the Raw album, which I only half-know. (I’m learning them quickly, but I don’t listen to music as much as I used to... hmm. I think I’m in the midst of changing that, actually.) But my point is, I haven’t listened to it many times (Serene aside), and I have sung it even fewer. I wasn’t entirely certain where all of the notes fall, the keys change. But I was singing along as best I could. Not quite a full-on belt, but a sweet lullaby sort of singing to myself, really.

I introduced her to Ghost Love Score. Which she wound up ENJOYING! Hahaaaa, score one for the symphonic metal group. 

So between her and the other neighbor listening with her, I found out that I have to look into Electric Light Orchestra and Mannheim Steamroller, both of which are names I’ve seen, but not musicians I’ve heard. (I still have to give them a listen, whoops. Tomorrow, maybe...)

Anyways, singing came up, turns out she’s quite a trained singer, and I said I could sing this song, if she liked. So I started singing along a bit. Conversation drifted and it petered out; I wasn’t positioned so they could hear me very well over the speakers, anyways. But she did say I have a nice voice.

At some point she decided to sing a karaoke song. No, sing isn’t right-- she PERFORMED it!

I forget exactly what I said; she performed it so WELL, and I gushed With Specific Things I Loved (as I tend to do because it’s good to let people know Exactly What You Noticed), and she said something like “You know something about music!” And we started talking about our choir experiences, the music in our lives. And at one point, she decided she had to play something for me to sing.

So I requested the song I’d been working on, Serene. And she played it. And I sang.

I sang my HEART out! Despite being a bit out of breath from walking uphill (and a few of my notes slipping Too High), and missing a couple lines, I had the capacity to PUSH for those soprano notes, and softened for the bridge, I was swaying, my head dancing a bit, and I was SMILING so, so much! I sang with PASSION, with DELIGHT, and my voice came out so WELL! It sounded like ME, not Tarja or Simone or Floor or Dianne, but ME! Fully ME.

Her response? “I have to get a mic behind you.” She said she loved that my voice had that opera quality, and though I know I’m no classically-trained opera singer, it was just so REFRESHING and RELIEVING and ENERGIZING to hear someone that actually APPRECIATES that!

I’ve spent so many years living with a family that called my music “that crap”, that told me not to sing, that made fun of me for singing with the opera-influenced style that I think brings out the best in my voice. The one year I was with my mother, she was never home, so I was often singing to myself... Sure, in the time I’ve been back with them, both of my younger siblings have complimented my voice. My little brother said he could sing as well as me, and my little sister has told me she likes hearing my voice when I’m singing. But it’s hard to let two little positive comments . After she called Within Temptation “crap”, and got angry that I played it while cleaning, I started wearing headphones, but I still sang along. At least, I did until she berated me for using headphones while I was doing the dishes, because “The whole point of headphones is to not hear the music”. When I would be on the long drive to visit my mother with my siblings, my oldest younger sister would often snap at me to stop singing along with whatever I was listening to. When you’re young and self-conscious, little things like, peppered constantly over your life, that destroy your confidence.

But especially through working with my mother and my organization, I’ve been getting that confidence back, and finding my voice. Quite literally, I’ve used my actual speaking voice more in the past three years than I probably have my entire LIFE. Talking with my siblings, talking with my mentors, voice-chatting with friends... Just, gaining strength in my actual vocal muscles that I never had before. My speaking voice has changed DRAMATICALLY; it used to be higher, further forward, and a whole lot less steady. Certainly less expressive of anything but an underlying sense of worry or tension or questioning or dead cynicism.

So what I’m trying to say is, hearing someone so DELIGHTED by my singing, actually WANT to magnify my voice, just to hear me “free my soul”, which she said exactly because I was a touch hesitant, telling her I wasn’t really warmed up so it might not sound “as good”, but she was adamant that I so it. And I’m so, so glad she was so determined. So reassuring. So delighted!

Employing gloves I’ve been carrying and a separate microphone, she pulled up a karaoke version of Whisper for me to sing. I didn’t perform that one quite as well as Serene, for some reason? Though I NAILED a few of the notes, and I absolutely KILLED the soaring vocalizations after Certain Choruses (the one right before the guitar solo, and the ones in the final verses of the song that I added Some Personal Flair to because I just FELT it). It took me awhile to find My Voice in that song; I think it’s the key, I don’t do nearly as well with alto notes.

Although I seem to have found my “chest voice” with SOME kind of strength tonight, whew! That’s another thing I’ve been working on; I sing quite well in the s2 range, and I can go quite high and still sound refined, but once we start sinking into the alto ranges, I start having trouble with pitch and projection.

But anyways, we talked quite a bit after that, I wound up making a friend, and my confidence in my voice is now shining brighter than ever. I can’t express how much of a gift it is to have someone who’s far more educated in music than me (in a musical profession!) say that she LOVED my VOICE, even though the operatic style isn’t exactly “in style”, you know? It was AMAZING. She said I was welcome to karaoke party with her any time, and she walked me home. 

So tonight, even though it was 1 and 2 and 3 a.m, I sang to the fullest extent of my abilities. The first song I sang was Ghost Love Score, and at first I was timidly shying away from Going All Out because Wow Some of Those Notes are High and require a LOUD and POWERFUL voice to prettify! But by 3 songs in, I was like “FUCK it, it’s my BIRTHDAY, this is my treat to myself, and if they’re awake to hear it, that’s their problem.” 

So I sang the FUCK out of Phantom of the Opera, Sancta Terra, Sound of Silence, Over the Hills and Far Away, Bless the Child, Supremacy, Paradise (What About Us), and Serene, just to round off another triumphant session of singing.~

Difficult ranges and notes that swan-dive and slides and staccato exhalations I struggled most with, but for the most part? Oh my stars. I was SO PROUD of my voice! (The first few videos I was watching were vocal coaches reacting to my singing idols, and some of the things she said? Even if I don’t know exactly where the larynx is, the stuff about the soft palate and note slides and starting high notes strongly... I’ve got some of it down! And it’s quite a glowy feeling when a professional singer compliments a sound that you just made Very Successfully.

I can’t claim I sounded as good as Tarja or Simone; of course not! There were plenty of places I added my own style. My notes aren’t as clean or QUITE so strong in some places. But there were also places I absolutely SHINED, and I would actually be flattered to find out someone heard me tomorrow, because that means I’m really getting good at projecting a strong, solid sound!!

[loisinherlane]

Consider this my magnum opus of why I love Booster Gold and why you should read these comics, but also: how Michael Carter and his family are connected to time travel. It’s kind of a hot mess because I run through a bunch of comics, but hopefully this makes sense!

Michael Carter, alias Booster Gold, is the first new hero introduced after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Booster is from the 25th century, where he was a college football player who got caught betting on his games and expelled, eventually becoming a janitor in a museum.

(Booster Gold (2007) #1)

At this museum, he befriends a security robot called Skeets. Eventually, Booster decides that he wants the adoration superheroes had in the 20th/21st century, and with future technology, he would be able to join up in the past. So Booster steals a Time Sphere, a suit, and a Legion of Superheroes flight ring. (Wait, the legion is from the 30th century, right? Yes. There are reasons this ring is in the past, and that’s mostly because Booster was always meant to become a superhero.) In the past, Booster establishes himself as a superhero, with a manager and number of sponsors. He’s about making money. This doesn’t necessarily make him a lot of friends. But he joins the Justice League International, makes friends with some heroes (including Ted Kord, the second Blue Beetle), and has a standard fare for a non-central character.

So flash forward to Countdown to Infinite Crisis. For those of you who haven’t read this one: This is a lead-in to the OMAC Project, and later, to Infinite Crisis, where Ted Kord notices a number of things that don’t add up. Unfortunately, Ted is not the most respected hero in the community, and no one quite takes him seriously. Wonder Woman says she’s busy but to keep her updated, and Oracle is trying to get him to pay more attention to other matters.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

So Ted seeks out his best friend Booster to help. Booster, after some initial reluctance, joins up. There’s some noticeable moments where Booster hints that he knows some things about the future (particularly, that Ted is going to die, and the Scarab means that the new Blue Beetle, Jaime Reyes, is about to take over): Booster keeps staring at the newly found Scarab. He asks Ted when he found it. Ted, in his narration, hints that Booster knew Doomsday would kill Superman, and he still took the first punch.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

All of this parallels what happens next: Booster shoos Ted away from the computer and takes over. Booster gets hit by an explosion meant for Ted.

(Countdown to Infinite Crisis)

Consider: Later implications of time travel suggest that some small things can be changed, but the big things can’t. If Booster knew what was going to happen, did Booster only postpone Ted’s death?

With that, Ted does die at the end of this story, and a part of The OMAC Project is Wonder Woman and Booster investigating Ted’s death. But as much as I love Ted, we’re mostly talking about Booster and time travel today. So moving on!

In Infinite Crisis, Booster is the one who fetches Jaime Reyes. After returning to the 25th century to access historical records, he tracks down Jaime via the scarab. (Of course, this is another example of a potential change: Booster says he may be saving millions or billions of lives, but this is unsubstantiated.)

(Infinite Crisis #2)

(Infinite Crisis #5)

So this brings us to 52, the fallout of Infinite Crisis. Booster Gold’s plot, while not obviously central in its introduction, plays a major role in bringing back the multiverse to the Post-Crisis continuity. Booster Gold, in the wake of the loss of his best friend Ted Kord, has sold-out again.

(52 #1)

With the help of Skeets, he’s returned to his origins. He wants to be a hero and make bank. Superman’s not around, so who else could Metropolis turn to?

Booster is on the outs though. First, with the heroes: Ralph Dibny blames him for not realizing his wife Sue was going to be murdered. Beatriz de Costa (Fire) shames him for how he’s acting after Ted’s death.

(52 #7)

(52 #4)

Pay attention to that notepad. Booster writes the names of Rip Hunter and his fellow Time Masters, as well S.T.A.R. Labs Time Travel Division. Everyone but Rip Hunter is crossed out. Rip’s name is circled, but he’s noted as “unlisted?????”

Because he’s noticed a number of events that don’t line up with the history Booster and Skeets remember, Booster goes to visit Rip Hunter in his Time Lab in Arizona. Skeets has to hold the door open because of the lock, so Booster goes in by himself...

(52 #6)

...and sees this... (Feel free to read what’s on the chalkboard. A lot of it hints to happenings in both 52 and the One Year Later event, as well as other stories. It can be fun to make connections.)

(52 #6)

...and this. Yikes.

We soon find out that Booster hired an actor to fake an incident on a subway. Why? Well... that answer’s not so clear. But considering the rest of the story, it’s likely Booster wanted to discredit himself.

(52 #7)

Unfortunately for Booster, this ruins his reputation with the public, and he’s soon replaced by a new, more humble hero: Supernova.

(52 #10)

And the public adores Supernova. Meanwhile, Booster’s sponsors pull out as his reputation goes down the drain.

Booster gets one last moment in the limelight, when he pushes too hard trying to upstage Supernova, and he dies... though he’s recognized as a hero for his tragic sacrifice.

((Hold on if you haven’t read 52. You’re going to find this one funny.))

(52 #15)

So... Booster is dead. Ha. What next? Well, Skeets seeks out Booster’s ancestor, Daniel Carter, for help to get back into the Time Lab. After all, Booster didn’t give Skeets the details.

(52 #19)

Daniel lets Skeets see into the Time Lab, where Skeets finally sees the same things Booster saw.

(52 #19)

Whoops! The real problem is Skeets. A little more menacing now, isn’t it? So Skeets abandons Daniel in the Time Lab, where he’s sucked into a vortex that’s part of Rip’s security measures. Meanwhile, Skeets is free to handle his evil plan. Whatever that is.

Back to Metropolis: Supernova is still out there, doing good. He’s also grabbing items that seem a little... eclectic. 

(52 #20)

And everyone is theorizing about who’s really under the mask. Cassie Sandsmark thinks it’s Kon-El. Lex Luthor thinks it’s Superman. Ralph Dibny puts the pieces together...

(52 #31)

But Supernova asks him not to say it out loud.

Later, we see that Supernova is actually working for Rip Hunter. Everything he’s gathered has been for Rip, who, as you can see, is really going through it. (Sad they never followed up on why Rip Hunter was affected like this, but I have my own thoughts that I might say later.)

(52 #36)

Where are they working anyway? In the jarred city of Kandor! Of course, Skeets can’t find them here, can he?

(52 #36)

Whoops. Spoke too soon.

(52 #37)

But who is Supernova? That burning question we’ve had for all these issues?

It’s... Michael Carter! Booster Gold!

(52 #37)

So, as Rip asks, Booster tells him. Booster knew something was off with Skeets. At the Time Lab, he almost asked him. But Rip Hunter arrived and recruited him for the long con. Rip needed Booster to gather materials, but they couldn’t alert Skeets. However, using a suit Rip rigged, Booster could be in two places at once: through time travel. After faking his death (using his real corpse from the future), Booster was sent back in time twelve weeks to complete Supernova’s actions.

Now Rip, Booster, and Skeets are engaged in a battle that, uh... is not continued until Week 50 on panel. If you count this as continued. I just love this panel.

(52 #50)

Actually, Skeets follows Rip and Booster to a lab where T.O. Morrow has searched the Red Torado’s brain to find out the truth of the 52 that he’s been repeating throughout the series.

(52 #51)

Of course, it’s not actually Skeets. The real Skeets was used as a chrysalis for Mister Mind... who has become a horrifying moth hellbent on eating the new multiverse.

(52 #51)

Rip drags Booster out, back to the Time Sphere, where they travel back to the beginning.

(52 #52)

After the events of Infinite Crisis, the multiverse was recreated. 52 identical Earths came into existence, and the same struggle has been taking place on all of them. These Earths are slowly aligning, and for some reason, Rip can see this, but Booster can’t. (Hold tight: Let’s keep in mind, for some reason, Rip was totally non-linear earlier. We’ll come back to this.)

(52 #52)

Rip intends to save all of the Earths, as they slowly settle into the new multiverse, with help from Supernova! ...This time, Daniel Carter, the Carter family ancestor that Skeets/Mister Mind used earlier.

(52 #52)

Bad news is that Mister Mind is still bent on eating a universe. As he eats parts of the various Earths, he changes their history, which leads to each Earth being unique.

(52 #52)

Booster has doubts about their ability to face something this big, but Skeets, now broken from Mister Mind, cheers him on... Booster heads back to the one place he knows to get the right power source, and Rip hints about Booster’s “glory days” soon to come. So now we know there’s a connection between Booster and Rip.

(52 #52)

But where is Booster going to get that power source?

(52 #52)

The immediate aftermath of the first crisis, where he talks a little with very young Ted Kord. (Sad.) Now we have to wonder how Booster knows to go back here? How much about time travel does Booster know yet?

Anyway, together, Rip, Booster, and Daniel succeed in defeating Mister Mind, and the multiverse is restored. Rip is very optimistic!

(52 #52)

So... let’s cut to Booster Gold’s second solo. Notice the title of his first story is “52 Pick-Up.” Booster, after saving the multiverse, wants nothing more than to be a hero again. He wants to join the Justice League again! Unfortunately, he’s recruited by Rip Hunter once again, who makes it clear that Booster’s destiny lies in time travel instead. And the world needs to think Booster is an idiot.

(Booster Gold (2007) #1)

Notice how Rip mentions his father? We’re finally getting somewhere.

Meanwhile, the other weird Time Stuff, that’s going on. Back at Rip Hunter’s Lab, Rip has written a number of interesting things on his chalkboard again.

Notice how Rip notes 1939 (the year Detective Comics was first published), 1985 (Crisis on Infinite Earths), and 2006 (Infinite Crisis). This shows how the crises actually affect time in the DC universe. Rip is, of course, aware of it. Is Booster too? How else would he know about the first crisis?

What is the connection between Rip and Booster anyway? Why does Rip care so much about Booster? Well...

(Booster Gold (2007) #1000000)

That’s right! Booster is actually Rip Hunter’s dad! So a lot of stuff we’ve been over must make more sense now.

But seriously, the Carter family is heavily involved in time travel, and the way it interacts with them is interesting. We’ve already seen how Rip isn’t linear when the timestream is disrupted... but what about the other members? How does this all affect Booster?

Honestly, I’m not sure. And I just ran out of energy for this post. If you want to know more, send an ask! And read the comics. You will not regret it.

[damienthepious]

yo pretend that it’s still fucking tuesday in my time zone. i only missed it by like fifteen minutes just be cool 

Toss and Turn In Undertow

[ao3] [companion piece to Keep Your Head Above The Blue]

[Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast (Second Citadel)

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Anxiety, Panic Attacks

Summary:  Sir Damien has a bit of a rough day. His flowers do their best to help.

Notes: Whoops, here I go projecting my mental health onto rad bouquet again! Sorry, Damien. Extra content warnings for some very… aggressively self-hating language. I will admit that this was at times unpleasant to write. Hope the stress is worth it <3<3 Name from a lyric in the song In Undertow, by Alvvays.]</small>

***

Sometimes the thrumming panic buries Damien. Sometimes, despite his best efforts, despite his prayers and the knowledge of a love buffeting him from two sides, he is consumed in the bleak, bitter echoes of his own mind. Mistakes in the past, mistakes he might make in the future, actions he should or should not have taken, opportunities he is missing and failures he is committing at this very moment, a thousand catastrophized possibilities of his own making-

Rilla knows the signs, even when Damien manages to keep from babbling his head off through the spiral. She knows the particular shallowness of his breathing and distance in his eyes when the worst parts of his mind take the reigns, knows how to take his hand and talk him down, or if the talking doesn’t work, how to sing and stroke his hair until his breathing comes easier, until he can hum along as well.

Arum is less practiced, but he’s almost better at recognizing when Damien is coming close to danger than Rilla is, which feels odd at first. Arum can hear his heartbeat from a short distance, and that is interesting for a number of unrelated reasons, but it also means that he can tell quickly if Damien is working himself up too fast. He also recognizes early on that he can’t just duel Damien every time he needs to pull him down from his dangerous highs of distress, though sparring is still enjoyable on occasion. The most effective method Arum lands on is to simply wrap all four arms and his tail around Damien, lift him into the air and squeeze. Just enough so that Damien can’t wriggle his way out, just enough so that the pressure feels- feels like something safe. That’s what makes it likely to work, Damien thinks. The physicality of it. An anchor in the world outside his own head, giving him no choice but to hang in the air and just breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says, panting from the pressure and the panic and closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see whatever expression of annoyance Arum might be wearing. “I am sorry I persist in- I am sorry to trouble you so.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arum mutters, close by Damien’s ear. “No apologies.”

He is only saying that to assuage Damien’s feelings, certainly. Damien can feel Arum’s heart beating from this close, a slow, sweet drumbeat he does not feel worthy to hear. “I know that my weakness of the mind must be frustrating, Lord Arum; you need not honey over your words for my sake-”

Arum squeezes him tighter for a moment, his tail coiling behind him as a low ticking growl rises in his chest. “Are you accusing me of deceit, honeysuckle?”

“No, no I merely-”

“Then you should trust when I say you need not apologize.”

“I know,” Damien says, ducking his head. “I know.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Yet I worry that I have caused you some irritation, and if so you could not be blamed for feeling-”

The growl in Arum’s chest pitches lower and louder for a moment and then he adjusts his grip on Damien, swinging his legs up until he’s carrying him in a way Damien can only think of as bridal style, which is entirely unhelpful to the roiling confused mess of his thoughts as he squeaks in protest. “I’ve had quite enough of that,” Arum says roughly as he starts a quick walk. “Keep, open the way to Amaryllis’ home, if you would.”

The portal opens ahead of them and Arum doesn’t even need to break stride until they’re through to Rilla’s front room, the wide flowerpot in the corner behind them curling with the Keep’s vines for a moment or two longer before they recede back into the dirt.

“Lord Arum,” Damien says breathlessly, “I must insist-”

“Amaryllis, I require your assistance,” Arum interrupts flatly.

Rilla steps out from the kitchen with a confused look, then darts across the space to pull the curtains closed. “Saints, Arum, you have to have the Keep warn me before you come through-”

“The poet is being unreasonable and you know better than I how to deal with him.”

“Excuse me-”

“Oh,” Rilla says, brow furrowing sympathetically. “Hard day, Damien?”

“No, of course not my love, it is really not so large an issue as-”

“What must I do,” Arum interrupts again, some of his worry bleeding through the edges of his flat tone, “to convince him that he is not some burden that needs be begged pardon for?”

“Oof,” Rilla says, stepping closer. “Hey, if you figure that one out, make sure you tell me about it first, because I’ve been trying to get that through his thick knightly skull for years now and it doesn’t seem to want to stick.”

Damien writhes in Arum’s arms, anxiety on every line of his face. “I don’t- it isn’t as if- I never said-”

His words dry up and he stills again when Rilla reaches out to cup the back of his head in her hand, drawing her fingers through his hair. “Damien. It’s okay.”

The combination- Arum steady and surrounding him with his arms and chest, Rilla on the other side with her hands gentle upon him, it’s soothing and pleasant and loving and Damien doesn’t deserve any of it. He has been nothing but an annoyance to the both of them lately, with his chaotic mind and his fears, and he is sure, so sure that he is damaging this relationship merely by being a part of it.

“S-stop,” he gasps, “oh, tranquility oh please, please- please put me- put me down, I can’t-”

Arum blinks at him in surprise and immediately, gently reorients Damien’s legs beneath him and sets him down, brow furrowed. “I apologize, I did not intend-”

“Don’t- don’t apologize,” Damien says, shaking his head viciously as he stumbles back, out of range of their gentle hands. “I am the one who- who keeps doing this-”

“Damien,” Arum says, concerned and confused, and Damien flinches and takes another large step away, fisting his hands at the sides of his head.

“I don’t know how the both of you tolerate me,” Damien hisses through clenched teeth, the hard thud of his heart making his chest feel tight and close and horrifying. “You are both brilliant and brave and you fit together with such glorious ease, with familiarity and humor and I am l-little more than a leech, a drain of affection and attention, and when you look at me like that- like that, with such unearned compassion, I know that I have manipulated you into feeling so softly towards me with my persistent, pathetic, pitiful writhing-”

“You think so little of us, honeysuckle?” Arum says, his head ducked and his expression so openly raw that Damien has to close his eyes against it for a moment.

“No,” Rilla says gently, reaching out to grip Arum’s wrist. “No, it’s not like that. Damien, Damien you need to breathe, okay?”

Damien shakes his head, but he still sucks in a quick sharp breath automatically. “See? Don’t you see?” He laughs in a shuddering, wild sort of way. “Your comfort is- it shows the compassion and beauty of your heart, my flower, but it is a grace of which I am entirely undeserving-”

“Breathe,” she says again, and Damien stops to gasp. “You aren’t being fair to yourself, Damien. Even if any of that were true, I love you because of who you are and how we are together, not because of anything to do with deserving. That’s not how love works.”

Arum watches this exchange, wary eyes darting between the pair of them as Damien shakes his head in denial.

“But you deserve so much better than myself, you deserve each other, such luminous beings as you are, and you certainly deserve better than me-”

“I deserve to love who I love, Damien,” she interrupts, “and I love you. I deserve to have a say in this relationship, and I say that I love you. And I’m gonna keep saying it, Damien. I’m gonna say it again and again until you believe me. I love you.”

“Why?” Damien cries, swinging his fists down from his head, leaving his arms to shake at his sides as he gives Rilla a tearful, horrified look. “Why? Why would you possibly love me? You are the most brilliant person I have ever known, and I am little more than a miserable-”

“If I started rattling off a list of reasons why I love you right this instant, Damien – and I do have an actual list, by the way - I know for a fact that it would just freak you out more, with the state you’re in.” Rilla raises her hands at her sides in a helpless gesture. “I want to help you. It hurts to see you like this, but I don’t know what to do, or where to start if you won’t believe the things I say.”

“But the two of you- your minds are as quick and sharp as knives which sharpen each other, and all I can be to you is a distraction, a desperate whining thing aching at your heels for affection and comfort. My own mind cannot match yours, it is little more than a nest of nettles within which my demons rest between their campaigns to devour me-

“Enough of- stop that.” Arum shakes his head, his frill flared partway in distress. “I cannot stand- I cannot abide you speaking of yourself so cruelly.”

Damien squeezes his fists, nails digging into his palms. “You, Lord Arum, have- have even less reason to give me your affection. I was nearly your murderer again and again-”

“And I yours,” Arum barks. “Are we not past that? Have those mistakes not long since been forgiven?” He sneers, but the expression slips away too quickly to be believable. “Or have you been harboring a secret grudge against me for my actions?”

“Of- of course I haven’t,” Damien nearly yelps, shaking his head again.

“Arum,” Rilla warns, squeezing his wrist. “I don’t think-”

“If he believes that I would care less for him because of the mistakes that we both made,” Arum says, “how can I not draw the conclusion that he expects this because it is how he feels about me?”

“Because that reasoning requires some if-then style logic and Damien and logic aren’t even in the same room right now, Arum.”

Arum blinks, then glances at Damien, whose breaths are growing worryingly quick, whose body language is screaming danger as clearly as a blaring horn. Arum slips his hand down slightly, gripping the hand Rilla had wrapped around his wrist, and presses another hand over his own mouth. “Ah… have- have I made things worse?” he hisses low, eyes flicking between his humans again.

“Hard to say,” Rilla murmurs, but the wry tilt of her mouth says, it certainly didn’t help, and Arum winces.

“I-” Damien presses a hand hard against his collarbone, clenching the other tight at his side. “I know that this- that I am- that I am only making things worse, I know that, so I don’t understand why- why you- why you even want to keep me beside you-”

“Breathe,” Arum says at the same moment Rilla says the same, and she squeezes his hand as he continues, “honeysuckle, you are not thinking clearly.”

“I am thinking without sentimentality,” Damien snarls, “for once. The two of you- this relationship would be better without my presence stunting and frustrating and causing strife-”

“You think our relationship would be better without you?” Arum wrinkles his snout, stiffening in horror. “The balance we strike is the three of us together, honeysuckle. I fit between you, as you fit between us, as she fits between you and I. This relationship would not exist without you.”

“Wretched whining thing,” Damien mutters, apparently to himself. “See how you distress them? See the ills you cause?”

Rilla exhales, brow furrowed in worry, and Arum’s heart lurches for the both of them. He takes a shaky breath of his own and Damien continues to mutter abuse at himself, arms wrapped around his own chest in a parody of a hug.

“I love you,” Arum says at last, quietly, and Damien startles like a deer, going dead-still and looking at the monster with wide eyes.

This is not the first time Arum has said this, to Damien or to Rilla, but it is still new enough that it feels like something precious, something to be handled with care. Arum has so far reserved such words for moments of safety, moments in embrace, in the darkness of a shared bed and the warmth of their arms. So for him to offer them now, in the daylight, standing and facing Damien from across the whole distance of Rilla’s front room, after Damien himself has spoken in such wildness and despair-

“I love you, Damien,” Arum says again, just as soft, “and I will not allow you to push me- push us away out of an urge towards self-destruction.”

The words sink down through the churning mire of his mind, and Damien is incredibly aware, for one sharp, bright moment, of how spectacularly he had ruined this, of his own utter lack of control, of his inability to draw breath, and then tears overflow the corners of his eyes as the familiar and unwelcome headrush finally pushes him down, folding him into a childlike crouch as he presses his hands to the sides of his head with a choked-off moan, every single thought in his mind whiting out in an incomprehensible tangle of horror, strong as certain death.

Then, it’s over.

Damien is shaking, hollow and exhausted and wet-cheeked, but the overwhelming panic is spent and gone. He feels suspended in the empty calm for a long moment before he straightens up with a shuddering inhale, clumsily brushing his tears away.

“What…” Arum stares at Damien, worry rolling off of him in waves as he whispers to Rilla. “What was that?”

“Panic attack,” she says, matching his volume with a tense smile. “A pretty rough one, too, I think. C’mon.” She steps a little closer to Damien, then, pulling an alarmed Arum behind her by the hand. “Hey,” she says gently, still leaving a bit of space between the two of them and the knight, “you think the worst of it is past, now?”

Damien nods, still rubbing his face and not looking at either of them.

“Okay.” Her voice is steady, calm, and Arum thinks for what must be the thousandth time that she is the cleverest being he has ever known. “Are you okay for a hug? Or would that be too much just now?”

Damien presses a hand over his eyes, his lip curving miserably, and then he nods again and reaches his other hand towards them.

Rilla sags in relief and closes the gap, wrapping her arm around Damien’s shaking shoulder. She can’t kiss him with his hand covering his face like that, so she kisses the hand instead as he shudders against her. Arum doesn’t know what to do with himself despite Rilla pulling him close as well. When he picked Damien up last, it seemed to catalyze this- this attack, and now he’s frightened of making things worse again with his touch.

Rilla notices his hesitation, and her brow furrows for a moment before she moves, readjusting their positions. She gently spins Damien so he’s in front of her with her arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and she pulls Arum closer on the other side until Damien is pressed up against Arum’s chest, between the two of them. She gives Arum an encouraging smile over Damien’s head, and he tries to swallow his worry, wrapping two arms all the way around Amaryllis and slipping the other two between them to scratch softly down Damien’s back.

“Is this okay?” she says, barely louder than a whisper, and Damien nods a third time, bumping his forehead against Arum’s chest as his breaths slowly even out from their hitching, as the salt Arum can taste on the air subsides.

“I’m sorry, honeysuckle,” Arum says softly, tucking Damien’s head beneath his chin. “I should not have pushed you so when you were in distress.”

“No, it- it wasn’t your fault, it-” Damien finally drops his hand from his face so he can press his palms against Arum’s chest, as if he is gleaning stability from his physical presence alone. “These thoughts have been- haunting me as of late. They would have outed eventually, I’m sure.”

“Nevertheless. I should have been more gentle with you.”

“I know- I fear that my persistent worries are irritating, and then I become terrified of that irritation driving the both of you away, and then the worry over irritating you becomes an annoyance itself, and it recurses and recurses until it becomes an endlessly deep oubliette into which I am cast, and I cannot see either the way to climb out, or the bottom to which I must fall. And-” he sighs through a laugh, “and I know that it is happening, and I cannot seem to control my mind. Even when I know I am being unreasonable. I can know that, but I cannot make myself believe it, or make myself stop.”

“You’re feeling more rational now, though?” Rilla asks, and Damien laughs again.

“I am tranquil, at least, and as rational as I ever am, my love. Which, when compared to yourself-”

She squeezes her arms around him, nuzzling her face into the back of his neck. “Perfect. Then that means I can start the list.”

“The- the list?”

“You asked, Damien, so you can’t complain about this now. So! Reasons why I, Amaryllis of Exile, am deeply in love with Sir Damien the Pious, version siiiiiix- no, seventeen, revised edition, with additional contributions from Lord Arum.”

Arum laughs in surprise, and Amaryllis grins behind Damien as he goes stiff. Then the knight looks up at Arum in alarm, his cheeks already tinging dark.

“You did ask, honeysuckle,” Arum says through a smile, his fingers drifting in soothing circles across Damien’s back.

“I love you, Damien,” Rilla starts, “because you are the most sincerely compassionate person I’ve ever known. You’re patient, you’re thoughtful, and you’re selfless to a fault.”

She pauses, raising an eyebrow over Damien’s shoulder, and Arum realizes it’s his turn to offer his contributions. “You are… fiercely loyal,” he says, and he smiles when Damien buries his face in Arum’s chest rather than look him in the eye. He understands the urge; it is more difficult than he expected, to put words to all the facets of Damien that cleave together to make Arum’s heart swell and race while Damien is here to hear them directly. “You are spectacularly beautiful,” he says, and then he quickly continues before the teasing gleam in Rilla’s eyes can fluster him, “you are a warrior with such skill that you make your movements as effortless as a dance when you fight, and you are the cleverest wordsmith I’ve ever known.”

“Just a brilliant storyteller,” Rilla agrees warmly. “I didn’t even like poetry before I met you, you know. You can put words together like- like you know how they’re meant to go, and you do it with so much joy that it’s impossible not to get caught up in your stories.”

“I will deny this if ever I am asked, honeysuckle,” Arum murmurs, conspiratorial, “but your poetry is far and away superior to every scrap of monster poetry I have ever read.” Damien chokes on a laugh against Arum’s scales, and Arum can’t help but nuzzle close to his ear. “And your voice, honeysuckle- it rings like music. I love the sound of it. I love you.”

“You care so deeply,” Rilla continues, “and you try so hard at everything you do. I love you because you make me laugh, and I love you because you are so completely different from me. I love that you and I don’t see the world in the same way, and I love that being with you makes the world seem that much wider and richer because of that. I love that you’re so damn tenacious about everything you set your mind to, and I love how you-”

“Alright,” Damien cries, lips pursed to try to keep his embarrassed smile from growing out of control, “alright my flower I believe you have made your point abundantly clear-”

“You sure, Damien? Because we can keep going for as long as this takes.”

“Quite sure,” he says, and he slips his arms around Arum to hug him properly. “I would prefer to be finished with weeping for today, my loves, and if you continue I will not be able to control myself on that particular front. Tears of happiness, I’m afraid, are still tears.”

Arum tries not to noticeably react to the sound of Damien’s voice now that it sounds more like him, steady and lilting instead of desperate and sharp, but he’s unsure how well he manages to hide his relief.

They stand in embrace for a few long minutes, breathing slowly, with Rilla humming lightly against Damien’s shoulder.

“I… I am not so experienced in… relationships,” Arum says quietly, breaking the silence. “We are… we are still- you have not changed your mind,” he settles on, wincing. “About… about us, have you, honeysuckle?”

“No,” Damien says emphatically, squeezing his arms tighter around Arum’s midsection. “Saints no, absolutely not. You are- the both of you are the best part of my life. That is… part of why it is so hard for me to believe it can last. It feels too good to be true, at times.”

“Alright,” Arum breathes through his relieved sigh. “And… and you do know…” he huffs out a breath of discomfort. “You know that when I say… when we are speaking, and I say that you are foolish or ridiculous- you do know that I- that-”

“I know you do not mean it,” Damien murmurs into Arum’s steady chest, closing his eyes, the gentle scritch of Arum’s claws drifting up and down his back between him and Rilla’s steady heat. “Or- that you only mean them affectionately.”

“If I cross into cruelty, honeysuckle-”

“It is comforting, actually,” Damien says, and Arum can feel the curve of his smile against his scales, “when you are willing to tease me. It is better that way, than if you treated me always as if I were fragile. It feels more honest. It’s easier to make myself believe you, that way.” He laughs, very slightly. “And, if you ever did overstep, I am certain our Rilla would make you aware of your mistake before I would even have the chance.”

“Yep,” Rilla agrees from behind the knight, looking at Arum over his shoulder with sharp, steady eyes. “No worries there.”

Arum, surprisingly, does feel less worried at that. “Good. Would you step back for me, Amaryllis?”

Rilla raises an eyebrow, but she does as he asks. Damien gives a look of confusion for only a moment before Arum’s hands all move in concert to lift him back up into Arum’s arms, just as he had been before.

“There,” he says, satisfied. “You are quite easy to carry, honeysuckle.”

“Of course it’s easy for you,” Rilla says. “You have extra arms to work with.”

“You will find that I am simply stronger than you soft mammals,” he says, preening, and then he glances down towards Damien, checking his expression carefully. “If you don’t mind terribly, little knight, I believe I enjoy having you in my clutches.”

Damien is breathless, face flushed, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be seen. He lifts an arm to curl around Arum’s shoulder, readjusting in the lizard’s grip to make himself more comfortable. “If- if you insist, Lord Arum,” he says primly. “If you are sure I shall not strain you-”

“Don’t make me laugh. You weigh about as much as you would if you were truly made of flowers.” He grins at the knight, but the eye contact drags out until something earnest slips into his expression. “I could never tire of having you in my arms, honeysuckle.”

“Oh, stoppit,” Rilla complains, swatting a hand through the air. “Stop being so damn cute. You’re making me want to play hooky and I have tons of work to do. Get back to the Keep already and stop teasing me.”

“Of course, Amaryllis,” Arum says, bending in a mock bow and smirking as Damien laughs in his arms at the swooping motion. “A thousand apologies. Keep?”

Rilla scowls, eyes sparkling as the portal opens. “Oh, wait- before you leave.” She comes closer, and presses something into Damien’s hand with a sly smile and Arum gives a pleased rattling laugh when he recognizes it.

“What- wait, your recorder?” He furrows his brow, puzzled, and then tilts his head at her. “Why?”

“It’s more of a player than a recorder, actually, but it’s what’s on it I want you to hang on to for me, okay?”

He blinks, then brushes his thumb over the play button but does not push. “What is it, love?”

“Yes,” Arum says smugly above him, and Rilla laughs.

“Arum and I have been working on this for a little while. Something for you to play when we aren’t around to do what we just did, or for when you’re feeling anxious about bothering us but you still need a bit of a boost.”

“It is why our list was so well prepared,” Arum adds.

Damien presses his thumb down, and Rilla’s voice chimes from the device.

Damien comfort log, version sixte-

It is not a log, Amaryllis, this is why we keep needing to start over-

Shush. Fine. List of ways Sir Damien has charmed the literal pants off of both of us, is that better for you?

There is a short hissing rattle that devolves into a laugh.

Yes, actually. That is much better.

If you wanna go totally informal we can do that too, Arum. So, Damien, we both love you pretty ridiculously and we know you get in your own head about it sometimes, so we thought it might help if you had something permanent that you could pull out when you’re feeling unsteady, you know?

Amaryllis insisted I write out notes beforehand, if you care to know how seriously she took this, honeysuckle.

Notes are useful. They reminded me just now to start with this- Damien, you are the most sincerely compassionate person that I’ve ever known, you are patient, you-

Damien firmly presses the stop button, his eyes shining, and Rilla shrugs. “I started with the same one earlier because I kind of memorized the notes I made for this. I just- we thought this could help, maybe.”

“It’s lovely,” Damien says, swiping at his eyes as Rilla and Arum politely pretend not to notice. “I am- I am not used to receiving the gift of words, oh Saint Damien above, my loves are so full of surprises-”

The Keep sings through the portal, its voice mingling exasperation, confusion, and fondness, and Arum starts slightly, having forgotten that he had already opened the way. “Ah. Apologies, Keep. Will we- see you tonight, Amaryllis?”

“If the experiment goes really well or really poorly I should be done before nine, otherwise midnight at the latest, I think,” she says with a shrug, and then she comes close enough to give each of them a kiss on the cheek. “Behave until then, okay?”

Arum rolls his eyes through a grin, and Damien squeezes Rilla’s hand for an extra moment and kisses her knuckles before he releases her.

“Thank you, both of you, for-” Damien clutches the device, clutches his other arm tighter around Arum’s shoulder. “Just- thank you.”

“Would you believe that we have rendered the little poet near-speechless, Amaryllis?” Arum says, nudging his nose into Damien’s cheek in an almost-kiss. “Impressive work, love.”

She grins, then lightly pushes the monster towards the portal. “Go home already, will you? It’s rude to leave the Keep waiting like that.”

Arum grins wider. “Until tonight,” he says, and then he steps back through to his home.

Damien’s nerves try to rally against him again when Rilla is no longer with them, but the reality of Arum’s textured scales against his own skin anchors him to reality, and the weight of Rilla and Arum’s gift in his hand feels talismanic, magical. He sighs, letting his head sink to rest against the crook of Arum’s neck, and he feels the lizard laugh gently.

True to his word, Arum does not tire of Damien’s weight in his arms. Arum does not tire of him even as Damien himself tires, eyelids sinking under the weight of his exhausting day, nor even as Damien succumbs entirely to sleep, with his cheek against Arum’s shoulder.

He does not even tire of him in the in-between, and when Damien wakes again he is still carefully entwined in Arum’s arms, safe and beloved in their shared bed.

[toolatetofall]

The Beginning: Two

An exploration of the relationship between Commander John Shepard and his XO, Commander Jane Sheppard, during the first game of the Mass Effect trilogy. Slow burn. From not-quite friends to not-quite lovers. Subsequent projects covering Mass Effect 2 and 3 are planned.

————————————————————————————————–

Two. Jane and John butt heads as John evaluates crew.

Ao3 | First | Previous | Next

————————————————————————————————–

Before they tackle the mission in front of them, Shepard needs to see his people in action. He needs to learn how to fight with those who are new; find their rhythm and evaluate their strengths and weaknesses. As much as he knows time is of the essence, trusting the people at his back is ultimately more important.

For this particular mission, he brings Officer Vakarian and Jane, and intends to bring Tali and Wrex on the next go-around. If the XO is surprised she’s been lumped into the “unfamiliar fighting style” category, she isn’t surprised.

They accompany Shepard on a mission to investigate a distress signal in the Hydra system. The three of them land on Metgo, and bump along in the Mako uneventfully. Shepard drives, naturally, while Garrus sits beside him, scanning their surroundings and monitoring the radar and Jane mans the Mako’s gun behind and above the two men. Not that there’s much to shoot at so far.

The planet is quiet, and the touchdown is smooth sailing, but the squad seems to grow more and more uneasy with the absence of enemies, especially as they near the signal’s source.

It’s when they approach the nav point, that Garrus points to the radar. “Geth.”

Immediately, Jane catches sight of them and starts shooting aiming quickly and carefully, as Shepard weaves through and around them, trying to dodge and minimize the Mako’s damage.

“We’re taking heavy fire.”

Garrus’s words are all the encouragement Jane needs. She swings down from the gun perch, and speeds out the doors, of the still-moving Mako, shotgun cocked. It takes a moment before Shepard and Garrus stop the Mako and scramble out after her.

One of the 13 or so remaining geth is floating,radiating blue biotic energy, and another is pushed to the ground, pulsing with blue light, then is quickly blasted through the chest by a shotgun. “Careful,” comes John’s warning over the com. “Air’s toxic.”

A shot rings out as the two men join the fray. One of the geth falls as Garrus hits it dead in the eye (or flashlight? unclear).  John sprays at another with his assault rifle, earning a whoop from Jane as she pivots to the next one.

“Catch!” Jane yells, flinging one of the geth in the air, blue blurring after. Instinctively, John turns towards it and takes aim. Before he can take his shot, a bullet tears through the Geths head, and he can feel Garrus’s quiet pride. “Nice one!” The woman laughs, as John keeps moving, mildly annoyed.

One by one, they pick off the remaining geth, the air growing more and more thin by the second.

With one left, Shepard and Garrus start to track and aim at the remaining geth while Jane streaks past them, toward the Mako. Shepard’s suit is screaming, and Jane has been out longer. As the two men finish, and trek back to the Mako, they can hear Sheppard both gasping and laughing over the com.

When they climb back aboard, she’s sitting opposite the door, taking deep breaths and giggling, a slightly manic look in her eye.

“Well,” Garrus says, both clearly uncomfortable and uncertain. “That was interesting.”

Jane grins up at them. “It was fucking brilliant.” Her eyes gleamed with a hint that unrecognizable something that John remembers from the Torfan broadcast. Blood lust, he realizes, and manic, joyful rage. Before he can comment, she disappears up to the gun hatch, still chuckling beneath her breath.

Vakarian and the Commander exchange a glance, then climb back into the front of the Mako. They do one more quick scan of the planet but there’s nothing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a quick rest, Shepard is planet side again, this time with Wrex and Tali in tow. Well, so to speak. They’re actually aboard the MSV Worthington, investigating the derelict ship’s SOS. As they creep through, the silence is eerie.

By the time the final survivor attacks them, it’s almost a relief, like the shoe finally drops. They quickly dispatch her and once they have finished investigating, they’re all set to return to the Normandy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When John returns to the ship and makes for his quarters, Jane is sitting at a table in the mess hall. An MRE sits in front of her, but has gone cool while she review’s John’s suit cam footage on her omnitool. Her expression is serious, and she doesn’t seem to notice his approach.

He glances at the screen over her shoulder, watching as on screen, they move into the medbay.

“I was hoping to see them in action,” she murmurs without looking at him. “They seem to have good instincts tho.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, shifting awkwardly. A silence falls. On the screen, he can see the biotic woman from the ship approach the group, yelling angrily.

Jane pauses it, then turns to look at him. “I watched the footage from Eden Prime too.” Her expression is flat, such a contrast to her face out on the Mako. “Alenko and Williams seem skilled.”

There’s not much Shepard can do but nod, while he waits for her to make her point. She cocks a brow.

“So. While you were doing your evaluations and shake downs, what did you decide?” Her tone makes it clear she’s asking about herself, but the dryness says she doesn’t much care about his opinion.

After a moment’s hesitation, he drops into the chair across from her. Sheppard eyes him, then picks at the cold meal in front of her.

A beat. “I think your biotics have gotten stronger.” Jane doesn’t reply, just stares at him, waiting. He clears his throat and shifts, uncomfortable. “It was good to fight with you again.”

“Yeah.” The silence that continues to fall between them is deafening.

A sigh. “What do you want, Jane?”

She rolls her eyes. “I want you to trust me and to stop treating me with kid gloves.”

“I don’t-“

“You do. Stop.”

Silence.

“I don’t know if I can trust my people to you,” John admits. Kaidan, usually working nearby, has the good sense to vacate.

Her eyes flash, and a mix of frustration, sadness, and anger flickers across her face. “Oh?”

He takes a deep breath. “I mean, you’re a good soldier- a great soldier-, but… I don’t know if I can trust you to keep my people safe.”

Butcher of Torfan.

The unspoken implication hangs between them, and she scowls at him.

“You do know ‘your people’ are soldiers, right? They don’t need you to babysit them.” She stands, glowering at him. “Besides, we have a job to do. You know as well as I do that we can wait around worrying about it, or we can get it done.”

He doesn’t back down, even as Jane glares down at him. “Is that how you justify Torfan?”

His voice is quiet. On the table, her knuckles are white. “You don’t,” Jane says slowly, quietly, deliberately, “know anything about Torfan.”

More silence as she averts her glare to the table between them. He thinks he’s imagining the way her lip is quivering.

“...What happened?”

Jane doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, she glances around the room, ensuring it’s empty, that no one is in ear shot. Even when it’s clear that they’re alone, neither immediately speaks. Finally, “I didn’t trust them enough.” The woman glares at him once more. “I was like you. I tried to babysit my people while trying to get the job done, and people died for it. My people.” A sigh. “They’re soldiers. We need to trust them to handle themselves.”

She spares him a final glance, and leaves the room, leaving Shepard in his thoughts.

[lhs3020b]

Some notes on recent polling developments (long, fairly depressing)...

The YouGov MRP figures came out last night. This is notable because in 2017, the multilevel-regression approach was the sole one that spotted the possibility of a hung parliament. We all ridiculed it at the time - I'll confess that I side-eyed it too. And then - well, we all know what happened to Theresa May, don't we? So, the MRP thing deserves to be taken seriously. And unfortunately, this year, it's looking grim for us. Briefly, the MRP is forecasting a Tory majority. They're also predicting that all opposition parties (bar the SNP, who only stand in Scotland) will lose seats. Labour in particular look in the danger-zone for a collapse, and contrary to their bullish predictions, the Liberal Democrats are also forecast to lose seats. (Note that this is with respect to their current strength - technically, the MRP result gives them a gain of 2 seats on where they were on the 9th of June. They currently have 19, due to defections from various other parties.)

I'll admit that I don't want to believe the MRP results, but this has never been a data-denialist blog, and I don't intend to start on that road today.

One caveat is that the reporting on the MRP results has ben remarkably-bad. The actual YouGov page is here: https://yougov.co.uk/topics/politics/articles-reports/2019/11/27/yougov-mrp-conservatives-359-labour-211-snp-43-ld- Buried a long way down the page, they say this: "Taking into account the margins of error, our model puts the number of Conservative seats at between 328 and 385, meaning that while we can be confident that the Conservatives would currently get a majority, it could range from a modest one to a landslide." As far as I can tell, the "majority of 68" figure is derived by treating 317 as a working majority and assuming that the Tory vote lands right at the upper end of their confidence-interval. This is poor statistical practice for a variety of reasons. It's also a bit questionable in terms of parliamentary arithmetic - the "working majority" thing depends on how many Sinn Fein MPs Northern Ireland elects (they don't take their seats, so count toward neither Government nor Opposition tallies). And we won't necessarily know how many that is until, well, December the 13th.

(Also, a further health-warning is that apparently the model isn't able to fully-represent some local phenomena, such as independent candidates, and the effect of the Brexit Party's partial stand-down is also apparently somewhat-unclear. The last caveat is that the analysis assumes data that has already been collected - that is, if public opinion changes between now and polling day, then obviously existing projections could become obsolete. This will still be a possible source of error even if the MRP sample is statistically-unbiased and the underlying theory/analysis is all sound.)

However, even the best-case scenario for us gives the Tories 328 seats, which is both a working and a (very small) absolute majority.

Obviously, this is not a good situation for us.

While not quite a landslide, nonetheless an inflated Tory majority will be devastating for this country. The stuff they'll do will be awful. Brexit will happen. There'll be a bus crash late next year, when the transition period ends. (No, they will have no plan for this - they won't feel they need one, as they'll be secure in power until 2024.) There'll be a Windrush for resident EU citizens. They'll trash the economy. They'll probably crash the NHS - the only question there is whether they do it through accidental negligence or through deliberate malice (say, an ideologically-driven trade "deal" that gives President Trump everything he wants on a silver platter). Nothing will be done about the country’s escalating housing crisis. They'll double down on all the maddest of the madcap "law-n-order" stuff - expect an explosion in jailable offences, accompanied by lengthy minimum-sentence tariffs and further restrictions on legal aid. They'll also resuscitate their plans to manipulate the parliamentary boundaries, and change electoral laws in their favour. The media? Expect no surprises from them. The newspapers are largely already Conservative Pravdas. The BBC - nervous about its precious Royal Charter - seems to be in the process of declaring itself for the Tories too.

Bluntly, if the Tories get re-elected this year, they'll gerrymander things so you have little chance of getting rid of them in 2024.

Perhaps this is the key thing to understand about Boris Johnson: really, he's less Britain's Trump, and more Britain's Victor Orban. He'll leave just enough vestigial democracy intact to make what he's doing plausibly-deniable, but he'll busily rearrange the furniture to favour himself and his friends. If he gets re-elected this December, you can expect to be seeing his face into the 2030s. The only reason I put the cut-off as early as that is that I expect the coming climate-crisis will wreak havoc with the Tories' internal coalition. (Oh you've built all your luxury millionaire mansions by the seaside? How nice for you, especially now that the sea is literally in your parlour. Umm, whoops.)

What can be done? Well, the first thing is to reiterate some discussions I've seen on Twitter recently. The TL;DR of them is that hope doesn't have to be something you feel - it can be something you do. (And that's just as well, because I'll admit that 2019 has destroyed what traces of social optimism I was clinging to. I'm dreading the bad end that's coming to us next month, but I also fully-expect it.)

So, my advice remains as it has been: on December the 12th, turn up, and vote for whoever you judge most likely to beat the Tory.

Remember, the MRP approach is fallible. "Mortal, finite, temporary" is absolutely in play here; no model is any better than the data that went into it. Or, indeed, the date when it was calculated. And at the end of the day, the only poll that genuinely-matters is the one on December the 12th, and that hasn't actually happened yet. (Though admittedly, given the storm-surge of pre-emptive grief that's flooding Twitter today, you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise.)

As for the horrible mess that are our opposition parties, I'll repeat what I said in 2017: it's OK to vote for a least-worst option. You're not perjuring yourself or committing any moral sin, rather you're trying to be a grown-up. Part of the package of being an adult is making the best of bad situations.

It absolutely does suck - believe me, this is one of the most soul-destroying election campaigns I've ever seen. Every single party has clown-show'd itself. All of them have done things that are ridiculous, inept or otherwise ghastly. (Well, maybe not the Greens - I haven't heard of any specific scandals surrounding them - but their cardinal sin is that they have no plausible prospect of winning the election.) But even then, the barrel we're going to have to stare down is going and voting for them anyway.

(As a related case-in-point, one factor that seems to have helped the Tories win their unexpected 2015 majority was that a contingent of left-wing voters simply stayed at home on the day. While it's hard to find concrete statistics on, nonetheless anecdotally, this absolutely was a thing. A lot of people were demotivated by Labour's confused and incoherent campaign, left cold by all the bothering about fiscal rules, and alienated by things like the mug with "controls on immigration" on it. All of those are 100% valid criticisms. Except, except, except ... it helped an even worse party back into office. The theory of "if the choices are bad, sit it out" has been tested to destruction. It turns out that looking the other way is also a choice, and not necessarily the best one.)

I would add that there are also real questions to be asked about the utter vacuum of political strategy of people nominally on the anti-Tory side - it seems the Opposition spent the summer fixated on the minutiae of House procedures, while never stopping to ask why they were on this battlefield to begin with. Meanwhile the Tories largely-ignored Commons process, and instead sent a political appeal straight to Leave voters. It lost them a lot of individual legislative battles (and I'm not minimising their defeats - they were important!), but it put them in a good strategic place to win an election. And in the long run, it turns out that was what mattered.

It's hard not to feel bitter while thinking about the events of spring and summer. Perhaps if Jo Swinson had been less blinkered about Jeremy Corbyn, perhaps if Labour could have had the minimum sense to call a Vote of No Confidence when BoJo was vulnerable, perhaps if the collective Opposition had been able to recognise the huge wave of unharnessed political energy washing through the country during the petition back in March, perhaps if Change UK had managed to be something other than an unfunny joke, maybe if Corbyn had taken the anti-semitism problem seriously in 2018 and had actually done something instead of sitting on his hands and letting it metastasize to the point where it derailed his election campaign ... but, no. That's for some other, better timeline, not the one we live in. We seem to live in the world that resolutely and firmly chooses the wrong fork in every road. I don't know whether our timeline quite qualifies as the Bad Place, but it's certainly a place full of bad choices.

In a weird sort of way, though, this brings us back to the key theme. Whatever you might think of what's happening in this election - and goodness knows I'm as appalled as anyone else - nonetheless, your vote matters. Use it. As we're seeing, this is the ultimate limitation on their power, and the one chance we have of stopping them.

So once more, let me reiterate: turn up. Vote against the Tory. Do it as a hopeful action, even if you don't feel hopeful. If nothing else, do it so that when the bad things happen, at least you can say you tried to stop it. I wish I had something less bleak to offer here, but this is where we are.

[romyism]

     – 𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐚 , 𝐚𝐲 – it’s ya girl , 𝒖𝒉 , skinny penis. jkjk , it’s only me , cc , local apocalyptic Hoe and i’ve been kinda sick lately Whoops. i’m a cst-er and go by she/her pronouns and will respond to any nickname i receive. i’m bringing my bby romy into this friend group and honestly ? she’s quite a handful so i’m gonna sneak in this apology first thing because phew , she’s so much i almost put ‘ these hands / her fists ’ as her weapon but i didn’t think that was the best idea for her.

( kim yerim → twenty → cisfemale ) ROSEMARY “ROMY” NA has been spotted hiding in the cabin. when you see HER, the odds of seeing them with a HIKING STICK in their hand is very likely. apparently their friends see them as the INCENDIARY - which makes total sense seeing as they’re VENTUROUS & PERCIPIENT as well as being CLIMACTIC & PROVOKING. i just hope they can survive the apocalypse…

AESTHETIC: holding back rambunctious laughter in a silent library, never being afraid to confront someone who’s done you wrong, a wide smile with a busted lip, the feeling of the wind blowing through your hair, half-buttoned dress shirts and short skirts, taped fingers from your latest fight, never being seen without a smile, being fiercely protective of the ones you love, the bigger the hoop the bigger the:, pulling hair in the non-sexual way and always being known as a firecracker.

* QUICK STATS /

full name: 나 로미  /  na romi  / rosemary na nickname(s): romy preferred name: romy age / dob: twenty  /  may , twenty-third , ‘ninety-nine gender: cisfemale  /  she/her pronouns label: the incendiary  ( designed to start fires / tending to stir up conflict ) faceclaim: loml , kim yerim ( yeri from rv )

* QUICK FACTS / HEADCANONS

legally blind, her glasses are thick af and she isn’t afraid to give someone a headache by making them wear her glasses.

is never seen without a smile on her face , even if she’s getting pulled out of a fist fight or is having a yelling match with someone.

a mix of class clown with drama queen so all in all: a+ annoyance. major annoyance. just isn’t afraid to make an inappropriate joke at an inappropriate time.

like stated above , is also super dramatic. just one of those girls that’ll scream at the slightest inconvenience just to laugh about it.

is very confrontational and isn’t afraid to start a fight if she feels like she or one of her friends has been wronged

has daddy issues but will joke about her dad like he’s a part of her life all the time.

has been in a lot of fights , have gotten a lot of stitches and casts and has had her ass handed to her multiple times but has no intentions of stopping.

genuinely has been getting into physical fights since like the fourth grade and definitely knows how to fight and surprisingly HASN'T gotten charged for assault or battery yet considering she's definitely the type to start AND finish a bar fight and has spent a night in local sherriff's stations.

her weapon is a hiking stick but she's ... good FDSKLASJA, hand to hand isn't the BEST idea with zombies but she's gonna try anyway. ( also, she's probably taped a knife to the end of the hiking stick and probably twirls it a lot, bobbi morse style and doesn't take it seriously smh )

a happy , dramatic , fighting small gorl. so kinda like a golden retriever honestly.

*BULLET POINT BIO

where can i even begin ? to sum up romy’s life in a nutshell , she’s a bundle of trouble who’s gotten into a lot of fights and has some big daddy issues , okay ? if you want a taste of who she is , she’s inspired a lot by the song HER by chase atlantic :)

but ! basically , born to korean immigrants , romy was given a very american name in hopes of giving her a normalized life in america. she was only ever spoken to in english , ridding her of a chance to learn her native language and spent very little time to learn about her culture. all of these decisions were made by her mom , who loved romy so much despite having her at a very young age.

from ages one to six , she was pretty happy and had a pretty average life. her dad was a hard worker , learning the ins and outs of computer engineering / software just as it was taking off and had a good enough job to support the family and she was 100 % without a doubt a daddy’s girl. she had him wrapped around her little finger and she just absolutely adored him , no matter what he did.

then , a couple months after her sixth birthday , she remembers watching him pack up a suitcase and leaving. she doesn’t know why and her mom never told her , but she remembers sitting on her bed and seeing her dad through the crack of her door packing up in silence and leaving without even saying goodbye to her , which sorta broke her little heart.

but she could tell it broke her mom’s heart too , so romy just ... continued with life without ever really dealing with it because That’s Just What You Do , you know ? she became a rambunctious little kid and by the time she was in junior high she was a regular trouble maker. she didn’t intend to make life harder for her mom , but she just had a lot to deal with and didn’t know any other way than to throw hands in the girl’s locker room.

she wasn’t horrible , seeing as she still had friends and was quite popular around school. she wasn’t a bully either , but people knew she wasn’t afraid to get knitty gritty. but , even though she’s known for fighting , she spent most of high school just sitting in the front of class cracking jokes with the teacher. if you wanted someone to distract the teacher while you finished your project , romy was your girl.

in the same vein , she was sort of ? a drama queen. would complain loudly and often about nothing , make a big deal out of nothing and wouldn’t be afraid to march up to someone and confront them if she thought she had good reason to. so actually , maybe she was a little bit of a bitch , but that’s just who she was.

barely graduated , still isn’t sure how because she spent her last semester of senior year showing up late and leaving early. but graduated anyway and since she didn’t have the grades for college , left town and started traveling instead. mostly makes money through odd jobs and things locals will pay her to do , so is now mostly a jack of all trades.

*PERSONALITY

oof , uh if you couldn’t tell from the bio , she’s a handful.

her pos traits are venturesome and percipient , meaning basically: she’s adventurous but she’s got a good grip on things. people don’t expect much from her because ... dumb jock who gets into fights , but she’s mostly got a good grip on things fjsdlfdsj. she’s just v courageous and adventurous and is usually the first to volunteer for doing the Thing nobody else wants to do.

her neg traits are climactic and provoking because: she’s dramatic and she’s confrontational. no stranger to a fight , she’s not afraid to start a fight if she feels like she or one of her friends has been done wrong. unfortunately , that means she’s ready to throw down at any given moment which can be problematic because calm down romy.

all in all , a wild spirit that has no intention of calming down. if she was on a reality tv show , she’d be the crazy one because she just ... is a firecracker of a human being.

* WANTED CONNECTIONS

all of them fdsafad

BUT ! i’d love to see some rivals / enemies / neg connections because romy is kinda the worst so people who can’t stand her , people who she’s gotten into fights ( physical or not ) , people who think she’s a bit much , all of the above fdksfs

or someone who she loves dearly ! people she considers blood and would fight for no matter the situation or if they asked!

someone she has an unrequited crush on or vice versa ! someone who has she has a mutual crush on but she has daddy issues so it never really works out fjdsa any gender for this one babY

hook ups / exes cause again ... daddy issues. any gender bbies !

ex friends ??? we love an angsty friendship connection here where they used to be friends and something happened and they WANT to be friends again but it’s Complicated.

ex enemies !!! FKDSJ where they ‘hate each other’ because of their really rocky past BUT it’s not that deep they actually love each other now.

a smooth lil will they / wont they / exes / angst-y plots because i without a doubt am a hoe for angst in the apocalypse.

if nothing here floats ur boat PLS lmk and we can brainstorm cause i already love all ur muses and want plots with ALL of them.

[yasuda-yoshiya]

Hey there. Sorry to bother you. I read your write up on The House in Fata Morgana and I really love how you go into such detail on the second half, especially with The Maid. I agree with her being wasted potential, especially when Michel’s love is enough to erase centuries of psychological and emotional trauma and amnesia in the span of one minute. My question is, how would you handle the Maid’s arc while keeping the setup the same? This got long, sorry. But I have a lot of thoughts about her.

Aaahhh, it’s absolutely no bother at all; thank you for getting in touch! It’s great to hear from you, and I’m very grateful for the kind words about my incoherent babbling. Giselle/the Maid is honestly one of my absolute favourite fictional characters and it’s really hard to find any real discussion or meta around her within Fata’s tiny English-speaking fandom, so I’m always super excited to hear from other people who feel the same way about her!

Okay, this got really long so I’ll stick it under a cut:

I have actually put a lot of thought into how the Maid’s story could have been handled and resolved better (and even drafted elaborate AU fanfic about it, for that matter), so I’ll try and put some of that into words here. Prior to door 8, I honestly feel like the broad structure of the Maid’s arc as it exists ingame does actually hit most of the major emotional notes that it needs to; it just rushes through each of them so fast and gives them so little narrative weight that they’re not really able to have the impact that they should, especially when door 8 then goes on to completely ignore the whole thing. So for the most part, I’d lean more towards heavily fleshing out the existing content rather than making any real changes to the structure of the plot overall. Door 8 is the point where I feel that her writing completely falls apart and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.

As for how exactly I’d want to flesh things out, the main thing I’d want to do is to heavily extend door 6 - both the backstory itself and the conflict between Michel and Giselle in the aftermath. As I think I said in that big old write-up, to me the whole door felt more like a quick checklist of events more than a real fleshed out narrative.The way I see it, Giselle’s character arc is fundamentally about her relentlessly trying to hold on to her optimism and the core of her “self” in the face of traumatic experiences - to not let her suffering take away her smile, her energy and positivity and upbeat personality, the things she saw as defining who she was before all of this happened to her. This is portrayed very well throughout door 5, where we see Giselle very consciously deciding multiple times to try and put her suffering behind her and start over from a clean slate with positive expectations - first when she’s sent to the mansion with Michel, then at the village with Amedee, and then again when she reunites with Michel - and it’s also very effectively conveyed that the effort of constantly keeping up that positive attitude and trying to block out the scars of her trauma puts a significant strain on her (one that Michel tries to ease by explicitly accepting her scars as a part of her and telling her that she doesn’t need to hide them from him).

What ends up breaking Giselle and forcing her to detach from herself entirely and become the Maid, then, is the feeling that she’s finally collapsed under that strain and “lost herself” to the point of being unrecognisable as Giselle, of having lost everything she used to define herself by. The fact that even “Michel” doesn’t recognise her any more, the fact that she herself is barely able to keep a hold on her memories of the past and who she used to be, her body becoming cold and lifeless and losing its old warmth and energy, and the weight of the years slowly wearing down her ability to stay positive and keep believing in a happy ending - all of those pressures end up breaking her self-confidence down to the point that she can’t manage to see herself as “Giselle” any more, and the burden of even trying to keep being “Giselle” becomes too much.

In that state of mind, it’s no surprise that the alternate story that Morgana tells her - that the Maid was always just a lonely witch haunting the mansion, an impostor who became fascinated by the real Giselle and Michel, and deluded herself into believing that their story was hers - becomes so much easier to believe in. Of course she’s failing so hard at being “Giselle”, because she never was Giselle to begin with. Accepting this narrative allows her to detach herself from the weight of having to try to be Giselle, and to project those feelings and ideals from a distance on to the White-Haired Girl instead, who is everything the Maid thinks “Giselle” should be. Note the Maid’s fixation throughout the stories on the WHG’s “purity” and her unchanging nature that stays constant across all times - the qualities that she feels she herself has lost. Of course, Giselle is also very much still subconsciously projecting her own lingering feelings for Michel on to the WHG as well, as she assigns WHG the role of her “master” and “the person she waits for” - but in a context that allows her to safely detach herself as a guide, watching over the real Giselle and feeling pity for her suffering. It puts her in a position where she can be the one to reassure someone else that it’s okay for them to give up, to forget about waiting for Michel and find whatever happiness they can for themselves - without having to shoulder the shame of making that decision herself. The things she can’t accept about herself as “Giselle” become acceptable if she takes the outside role of a witch. As Fata repeatedly puts forth, tragedy becomes a lot more bearable if you think of it as “someone else’s”.

Okay, I basically just wrote three paragraphs of meta here and I’m still not much closer to actually answering your question, so it’s about time I looped back to the point. Everything I’ve outlined above is the basic outline of what I feel is intended to come across through the Maid’s arc. Now let’s talk about where I feel that door 6 fails at actually making that arc really hit home as strongly as it could have. I think the essence of the problem, at least to me, is that door 6 does a perfectly good job of laying out a very believable sequence of events that lead Giselle to become the Maid, but it doesn’t really do such a great job at portraying Giselle’s reactions in any real depth. The narration doesn’t really bring to life the feeling of someone fiercely struggling with themselves to stay positive in the same way that door 5 does, and the process of Giselle’s desperate attempts to keep hold of herself being slowly being worn down over the years gets skipped through so quickly that it’s hard to really feel the weight of it from her perspective. Just going more into depth with Giselle’s internal thought processes here, showing more of her individual reactions to the events of the first three doors and things like her frantic attempts to rationalise it as maybe being okay that the WHG doesn’t recognise her, showing the strain it puts on her to have to keep trying to find ways to frame her story in a more hopeful and positive way until she finally just can’t do it any more, would really help make the door feel like more of a complete experience.

Again, though, as I said in my old write-up, I do think a lot of what is there in door 6 is really strong and effective - a lot of the individual scenes do genuinely feel really powerful in their own right - but there’s just not quite enough there to make the whole thing really hold together as a fully realised narrative. (To put it another way, when you have even a weird side character like Yukimasa getting such a slow, thorough and nuanced exploration of his gradual descent into madness, but your main heroine’s central identity conflict and breakdown of her sense of self is rushed through in about half an hour, something has gone terribly wrong.)

The other problem that I have with door 6 - and this might be more of a personal thing - is the point it chooses to end at. The pivotal moment where Giselle actually finally chooses to disown her old identity and accept Morgana’s story as the truth goes by so quickly that you could almost miss it, and then after that the door is pretty much over, short timeskip to the end of Jacopo’s era aside. Considering how much emphasis the earlygame puts on the Maid’s preoccupation with stories, and how important the story of door 4 is to her in particular, I always felt more than a little disappointed by how little time is given to Giselle’s internal reaction to Morgana’s story when she hears it, or to how she processes it and sorts out her feelings about it afterwards; how she uses it as a way to reframe her own story in a way that’s more manageable to her, and how it hurts to let go of it. Even the most basic point of the Maid passing her old identity on to the WHG isn’t actually touched on by the text of door 6 at all. It just really feels like a lot of wasted potential, since the Maid’s relationship with the narrative of door 4 is probably the single most interesting part of the character to me, and I think it could easily have been elaborated on a lot more here in a way that would make the arc as a whole much stronger. (Although now that I think about it, I think I might have pretty much made a lot these points already in my old write-up, so I might just be repeating myself now? Whoops? It’s been a while, sorry!)

So that pretty much covers my feelings on what I would have liked to see from the Maid’s backstory. Now I can move on to talk about how I’d want to handle the resolution, which was probably the main point of your question to begin with! I think the biggest problem with the Maid’s turnaround as it stands is that it feels so easy, with very little real struggle or conflict - as you said, it really does feel like all of Giselle’s issues as the Maid are just flat-out “erased” in a matter of minutes, and she just reverts back to her old self entirely. And that feels incredibly wrong to me, because it seems to basically uncritically validate Giselle’s ideal of herself as someone who can hold on to her cheerful attitude and just block out her suffering entirely as if it never happened - which feels totally at odds with the the rest of her narrative up to that point stressing how much of a burden she placed on herself with that unrealistic expectation and how trying to live up to that impossible ideal ended up tearing her apart completely.

I think it would have worked a lot better to instead put the focus on Giselle’s resolution on challenging that ideal for herself, and letting her realise that she doesn’t have to be that ideal unchanging person she wants “Giselle” to be - that even if she has changed, she’s still Giselle, and still the same person Michel loved (Requiem’s epilogue briefly touches on this idea too). To accept the Maid as something that came from her, that’s a part of her, and that she doesn’t have to be ashamed of or make into an entirely different person to accept. The Maid believed that she’d lost her humanity entirely and become unrecognisable as herself, but when it came down to it, Michel did still recognise her, and still sees the person he loved in her. And some part of Giselle evidently still recognised and reached out to Michel as the person she had really been waiting for, too, even after she’d supposedly rewritten her story entirely to put the WHG in that role. The way her suffering ended up shaping her into someone like the Maid doesn’t make her inhuman; the ways she’s reacted to her suffering by trying to change into someone else are themselves human and relatable, they’re understandable and okay reactions for Giselle to have had in her situation, and the Maid is still someone Michel is perfectly capable of deeply empathising with and feeling love for.

Because in the end, the heart of Michel’s love for Giselle wasn’t ever really dependent on her always staying a bright and cheerful person who never stops smiling and always stays positive and never gives into despair; it was a relationship between two deeply wounded people who connected with each other through their shared experience of suffering. In blocking out and trying to forget the painful aspects of her past, in replacing them with a gently beautiful fairytale of a tragic love between two totally pure and selfless people, Giselle ended up losing what was really important about their relationship - that neither of them had ever been perfect, that they’d both been irreparably hurt by their trauma, but they still loved and understood and accepted each other, scars and all. Her remembering Michel as such a perfectly pure and flawless person is very sweet in its way, but it actually ended up turning her memory of him into someone so perfect that she couldn’t possibly live up to him or keep believing that he’d love someone like her - as is a running theme in Fata, blocking out the pain of their past ended up also blocking out the real significance of the connection they’d managed to make with each other through that pain.

So, approaching the end of door 6 and the Maid’s final resolution through that lens, I think I would put a lot more emphasis on Michel getting through to Giselle by his understanding and acceptance of what she’s been through and how it’s changed her, and by his own simple empathy with her and love for her as a fellow flawed and scarred human being. I think I’d also want to make that process of him getting through to her and coming to understand her a lot more difficult and painful than it came across in canon - I think a lot of things about the Maid’s attitude should have been difficult for him to understand and come to terms with for a while, especially when it comes to her wanting to cling on to her own story and push a false identity on to him instead of confronting the truth, which would hit a particularly bad spot for Michel at first. For example, with those small breakpoint scenes midway through door 5 where Michel and the Maid are reacting to the retelling of their memories, I’d want to have the Maid be a lot more fierce and persistent at first about denying that these really are her true memories, and denying the idea that the Giselle she sees in door 5 could ever possibly have been her - I’d want to see her trying a bit harder to defend the protective narrative she’s built up for herself in the face of Michel’s brutal attacks on it, and Michel maybe initially lashing out in frustration at that, until he slowly comes to recognise the basic emotions behind her actions as essentially sympathetic and familiar from his own experience of severe isolation, recalling how it had made him want to shut his heart off in much the same way.

Michel having to accept his own responsibility in leaving Giselle alone to deal with all this in the first place - for underestimating just how much she needed him - is also something that’s going to be difficult for both of them to deal with, but it’s something that I think they needed to more explicitly acknowledge and work through with each other because it’s important in the sense of Giselle being able to remember that Michel is a flawed and imperfect person too. (The Michel in door 4 explicitly did make the choice to die together with Giselle instead of leaving her alone, again reinforcing Giselle’s inaccurate memory of him as someone pure and perfect.) The Maid’s issues with her repressed resentment for Michel and with her own self-image are obviously very deep-seated to an extent that actually fully “resolving” them in just one conversation with Michel isn’t at all realistic, but I do feel that the process of actually having to talk things through with the real Michel would start to remind her of what their connection actually felt like after all those years of turning it into an abstract archetypal love story, and of how Michel was always someone she loved for being an approachably flawed and awkward person rather than any kind of perfect ideal - and to start to believe that maybe it’s okay for her to be flawed too, that her flaws could still be a part of her humanity and part of “Giselle” rather than something that makes her inhuman. As has always been the case with these two, humanising each other helps them to humanise themselves. Dealing with everything that’s happened is inevitably still going to be a difficult process for both of them, but I think Fata could have believably gotten them to a point where they’re at least starting down the right path without just lazily erasing Giselle’s issues and brushing the whole thing off. It’s a difficult balance to strike, but I do feel that Fata manages that delicate balance in other places and could have done so here, if a bit more care had been put into the writing.

From there, I’d keep the flow of the story as it stands - Michel and Giselle try to leave the mansion, Morgana stops them, and Salvage and Door 7 proceed as before. So the next thing to talk about here is Door 8. As it stands, the portrayal of Michel and Giselle’s relationship in door 8 is basically all about Michel gradually breaking out of his shell with Giselle’s support; as I think I said in that old write-up, I think it would have been much more effective if the focus was instead on the two of them supporting each other to start to break out of their respective periods of isolation and reclaim themselves as human beings who are still capable of living in the world and connecting with other people. Rather than Michel and Giselle’s dynamic just reverting to how it was in door 5, I would have liked door 8 to have them starting to develop a new dynamic to reflect how Giselle has changed, and to present her having to learn how to act like a “real person” again as more of a difficult and gradual process. Giselle really has irreversibly changed in many ways, but she’s also far from actually being unrecognisable, and I think the basic idea of her starting to naturally take on some of her old mannerisms again as she talks to Michel could have been genuinely sweet and touching if it felt a bit morenuanced and earned in its execution - starting to reclaim her identity as a human rather than a witch, as someone who’s still capable of feeling human emotions and having human connections, in the same way that Michel is gradually brought out of his shell by the events of door 8 and starts to be able to believe in himself once again as a person who’s capable of living in the world without being rejected or treated as an outcast. I think my ideal version of door 8 would focus a lot more on Michel and Giselle helping each other through that process.

Well, if I permit myself to indulge in full-on wish fulfillment here, my real ideal scenario would honestly be for Giselle to actually be physically there in door 8 and have her and Michel working together to save Morgana, with both of them getting to interact with the other characters and play an equal part as co-protagonists in the truest sense - but honestly, even without radically revising the structure and just keeping Giselle as a voice in Michel’s head, I think she could still have easily been given much more of her own personal arc within door 8 rather than just serving as an extension of Michel’s. One thing that’s really potentially interesting to me about door 8 is Giselle having to come face-to-face once again with the people from doors 1-3 who she had so strongly detached herself from and treated as supporting characters in the WHG’s story, to be picked apart from a distance as tragically flawed protagonists. I feel like the Maid was pretty clearly projecting a lot of her own feelings on to these people’s stories, using them to explore her own issues in a way that felt safer by framing them as “someone else’s problem” - so how does she feel seeing these people again, now that she’s self-aware enough to realise what she was doing? I think there’s a lot of interesting material to explore there.

With Yukimasa’s story, for example - before, as the Maid, she wouldn’t have been capable of articulating that her complex feelings about Yukimasa’s narrative and her wish for him to find happiness as Bestia were projections of the way she felt about herself and the way she also tried to find comfort in her own dehumanisation through a false narrative, because owning those feelings for herself would have meant acknowledging the fragility of her own coping mechanisms. But now that she’s started to come to terms with who she really is, I could see her having a lot of difficult and insecure reactions to seeing Yukimasa again, and having his story bring back Giselle’s own deep-seated fears that she’s fundamentally “not human” and deluding herself about her humanity in the same way that Bestia was. Of course, Michel would be there to help her talk through those feelings and remind her why that isn’t true - even as the Maid, she was still very recognisably human at heart - but I think that Giselle actually getting to talk those things out with Michel would go a long way toward giving proper narrative weight to her struggles and making it clear that the deep fears and insecurities she felt as the Maid aren’t just going to magically go away, the way they pretty much seemed to in canon. In the same vein, there’s plenty to explore with things like the Maid’s fixation on the theme of childhood innocence being inevitably lost with Mell and Nellie’s story, and her identification with Jacopo as someone who also tried to kill off his old self completely.

I think it would have helped tie the game together a lot better to have Giselle’s own resolution running parallel with that of the three men in this way, that seeing them being able to reach a more positive conclusion would help her to feel a bit less hopeless about her own story as well - as well as to start to see herself as her own person again, whose story doesn’t have to mirror theirs in the first place. In my ideal version of door 8, I kind of see working through their resolutions as a process of letting Giselle free herself from defining herself by these stories and from the story of the mansion’s curse as a whole, to be able to start to see herself and those around her as real people with real agency rather than as actors in a doomed, unavoidable tragedy.

But I also feel like this scenario has all kinds of potential in terms of allowing Giselle to maybe be able to reframe some aspects of “how she’s changed” in a more positive way, and to see some of the Maid’s characteristics as genuine strengths that she can draw on as well - the ability to emotionally detach from a situation and critically evaluate people and their relationships from afar can be legitimately useful in some situations too, you know? So I’d really like to have seen the Maid’s worldweary cynicism and piercing insight into people’s flaws get to be played as a strength at times, as an important complement to Michel’s lack of experience and knowledge about the world and people, rather than just a shameful phase that she has to move on from. (I think I’d definitely have liked that dynamic a lot more than the “Aww, Mell is like our best friend! We can definitelytrust him!” nonsense that canon pulled, which was just ridiculous. The Maid was absolutely brutal about Mell! Who is this person?!)

One part I really liked from the actual door 8 (and wished had been given more weight and expanded on a lot more) was Giselle saying after Mell and Nellie’s resolution that she felt bad for how she’d treated them as the Maid, sneering condescendingly at their flaws - but Michel responds that her story cutting right to the heart of their problems in that way actually helped him to fully understand them as people and how to help them, and that he couldn’t have done it without her. Making that into more of a fleshed-out arc about helping Giselle to reclaim some of the Maid’s attributes as something positive, not something she has to run away from, would have been a really satisfying resolution to me - there are absolutely real problems with dehumanising people and arranging people’s lives into a neat narrative, but there are also times that being able to detach and get that kind of overarching perspective can actually really help, if it’s done in a more balanced and self-aware way. I think going deeper into exploring this would have really done a lot to integrate Giselle and the Maid, and to tie together Fata’s whole themes as a story about people’s relationships with narrative in general.

Also, I would have really liked to see Giselle involved with the WHG’s resolution too! She spent 400 years obsessing over the WHG and defining herself in terms of the WHG’s story, after all, so I think it only seems fair to give her some closure on that and to let her play her own part in putting her to rest. Michel, Giselle and Morgana’s narratives are all connected together by each of their relationships with the WHG and their respective struggles with the pressure of the ideals she represents, so I think it would bring the whole game together nicely for the three of them to get to let go of her together.

So, I think that’s pretty much the outline of what I would have liked to see from Giselle’s arc in Fata! I hope this all made sense since I am kind of half braindead at the moment, ahaha. I would really love to hear your own thoughts about her too, though, so please don’t hesitate to share them if you can! I’d be super interested to hear your take on the character!