#vague mentions of octavia

[spookberry]

i know this pic is pretty old and canon may have changed since then but do you have a more hd version of the lineup of the color guardian generations over the years? its from 2022 on your deviantart but dA compressed it! id love to hear about the older teams, like anita's first squad

You mean this thing??

Honestly the other teams aren't super relevant outside of a few characters and I like the idea of leaving it vague enough that there could've been even more guardians embetween the ones here.

But yeah I can tell you a little about everyone!

-Anita was one of if not the first Color Guardians. She was actually very close to her Green specifically. They were Best Friends even before becoming Color Guardians(this leads to conflicts with Rin later because Anita tends to compare the two). Their group wasn't around for very long, no one knew the stakes or how serious everything was back then... That is until one colorless attack that ended with Robin dead and Anita having disappeared with a spark of light. Robin was cheerful and kind. Seeing him die left a bad mark on his teammates that they haven't let go of to this day.

-because of her disappearance Anita was assumed dead too. Both by Layla, the police and even her own family. Octavia showed up on the scene shortly afterwards. She never knew Robin or Anita, but Layla's trauma and the fact that it was just them two for the longest time left a deep impact on Octavia.

-Even after Octavia outgrew her role as Blue, she still worried for the next generation. She made a point to track down the next Blue to as soon as she could in order to teach him everything she knew. She's an adult now and teaches self defense classes to the general public, but also special classes for Guardians specifically. All the Blues have met her, and Chiyo even introduced her to Kimi so Kimi could get better at fighting. Layla wants nothing to do with the newer guardians, so Octavia avoids bringing them up, but the two do check in with one another still.

-The teams are generally organized by which Blue is active, because theres always an active Blue. I labeled him Remi up there but I eventually renamed him Russell, he's the second Blue. Much like Octavia, he spent most his time as part of a Duo, up until she was killed in the line of action. It was only near the end of his career as Blue that Nia and Charun became Colors. Nia met Sue a couple of times and can remember her fondly, but Charun never met her.

-Dimitri is also an interesting character. The only other Pink that anyones aware of, he was an active antagonist for most of his time. He often got in the way on purpose and would sometimes help colorless out just to see what would happen. With the power of friendship and gay tension he eventually turned a new leaf. Though not before Russell hit him with a car(they're married now).

-Marcy and Nia are the most relevant past Guardians to the modern group. Marcy has a tough start as Blue. Everyone on the team had been a Guardian longer than she had and already expected her to fill the leadership role that Russell had. Not to mention the youngest and littlest Guardian Veronica appeared right after Marcy. It was a lot of pressure to say the least. But the four of them developed a pretty intense bond cuz of it. Unfortunately much like the others, Marcy's time as Blue did not end without tragedy. There was a really hard fight once that they almost lost. Charun and Nia got hurt really bad to the point where Charun outright rejected being Green(a painful process) and now hardly speaks to any of them outside of the occasional pesters from Nia. Nia herself was already disabled, but the fight has made it harder to manage. She always knew the physical stress of being Red would have negative impacts on her but she doesnt regret her time as Red nor does she regret any of the choices she made during that time. Marcy broke a leg as well during this which permanently ended her dance career.

-More on Nia actually, she was always the heart of her group, encouraging everyone to keep face no matter what. Even after it all she still continues to push her friends forward and check in with all of them. Her younger sibling, Benny, looks up to her a lot, his Guardian form mimicking hers in many ways.

-The only one who came out unscathed physically was Veronica, though having watched the emotional fall out made her wary of teaming up with any of the Guardians outside of Benny for a while. Benny's a simp too so he follows her lead on everything.

-Marcy's only 20 when she meets Chiyo but immediately takes it upon herself to support and take care of the new team in a mentor-y role. The way Russell did for her and Octavia for Russell. This usually turns into more of an emotional support role than being active on the field. (She's had to talk Chiyo through her crush drama SO many times). Marcy isn't that much older, but when you're 15 but 20 seems pretty mature in comparison. Due to her own angst about what happened to her last group too Marcy tends to put a lot of the pressure of being The Adult for them onto herself. (no anita you dont count as an adult)

-Anita was gone for approximately 15 years mind you, so the teams are pretty spread out with the occasional overlapping member. She hasn't gone to see Layla yet since coming back to the right time. She's scared of all thats changed during her time trapped in the timestream tbh.

[angelsstranger]

everyone can hate me for tjis but i started reading the locked tomb in 2018 so i have had more than enough time to realize i really find the fandom so so annoying and almost all my criticism for tm as a white author dipping her toes into writing about Maori people and their relations to colonialism have never been adressed after years and the fans still can only compare it to baru another speculative fantasy about colonialism written by a white author. the books are powerful but please i think there is something to be said of white authors making up genocides as allegories for real ethnic cleansings instead of simply platforming indigenous authors. i am willing to do a reread on baru to give it another chance and i love tlt. but i think a bit too much credit is given to Tamsyn Muir as an author for taking the typical approach of never confirming in text the race or ethnicity of her characters beyond a few vague mentions of skin tone and a tumblr post she made after the publication explaining things that should have been adressed straight on in the narrative.

and seth dickinson is clearly very educated and well-read but also my read of baru kind of had me thinking about how i never hear fans of the locked tomb raving about authors like Octavia Butler, Carmen Maria Machado, Andrea L. Rogers, Benjanun Sriduankaew, Jewelle Gomez or any other related fiction authors of queer stories born from their cultures and of their people.

as a white reader writer and creative, i want to encourage other white people to broaden your horizons and read lesbian and queer stories that weren’t written by white people and read new perspectives outside of your ethnicity. I have found deeper narratives that challenge colonialism here and without the need to invent fictionalized indigenous people and fictional brutalizations. Enough subtext ! Read something explicit!

[autumnmobile12]

Helluva Boss S2 Trailer:  “You don’t love mother and you don’t love me!”

I have a problem with this line, and I’ve had a problem with Octavia’s character for awhile now, so I’m going to talk about it.

To cut her some slack, her house and family life is a mess.  Fighting parents, cheating dad, feeling neglected by both parents, and she’s a teenager on top of that.  I get it.  Moody, angsty teen with a really good reason for being moody and angsty.

And Stolas isn’t blameless in all this.  With the cheating, he’s actively a problem, but we can see that he loves his ‘little owlet.’  But he is a terrible father.  In the Seeing Stars episode, I thought that it was going to be a lot more Stolas and Octavia-centric on their relationship, but no.  He and Blitzo spend most of the time looking for her just dicking around in some human comedy act when they really didn’t need to be there.  Seriously, it wouldn’t have been the first time Blitzo massacred a group of humans to get out of an awkward situation, but if Stolas is so concerned about his daughter, then why didn't he do something about their situation? If he loves his daughter so much, why is he okay with this distraction? He's not even the one who gets him out of it in the end.  That was the first time Helluva Boss actually disappointed me.  I don’t think the brief bit of backstory we got with Blitzo and Loona justified the rest of that whole bit, so it was really pointless.  That piece could have been handled better.

Throughout the Stolitz ship, Stolas is 100% ignoring Octavia.  But terrible dad aside, the line from the Season 2 trailer, “You don’t love Mother and you don’t love me!” should be emotional.

Except…. “You don’t love Mother….”

…why would he?

Does Octavia not see what a violent, toxic bitch her mom is?  She has seen her screaming, getting violent, and throwing things. I suppose Octavia could have the opinion that Stella's anger is justified with the cheating and all, but then that explanation implies she thinks reacting violently like that is acceptable behavior. And let’s not forget Stella straight up ordered a hit on Stolas, which nearly succeeded.  Does Octavia not know about this?  Again, Stolas being a terrible dad for not taking steps to get the daughter he supposedly loves away from the psycho who ordered an assassination, but did none of this get back to Octavia?

Not that any of it makes Stolas' infidelity okay. If you're unhappy in a relationship, leave it. But with the way Stella behaves, there's no rational way Octavia can expect her parents to love each other. It sucks to be the child in that position, especially a teen still figuring things out, but that is very much an 'it is what it is' situation and you gotta make the best of it in whatever way you can.

As it stands, it isn't fair for Octavia to entirely blame Stolas for their family falling apart.

"You don't love mother and you don't love me," makes it sound like Octavia is consciously choosing her violent, narcissistic witch of mother over her dad. This also doesn't make sense with the plot because there's no sign of Octavia having a close relationship with her mom. There are no portraits of them together in a loving embrace as we see with her and Stolas. Plus, Stella doesn't care about Octavia. The only two times in the show she vaguely mentions her is as the 'one egg that finally dropped out of her' and when she and Andrealphus are discussing the inheritance that will go to Octavia. She doesn't care about Stolas either. The only effect the cheating had on her was the idea of public embarrassment for their family.

Neither of Octavia's parents care for her the way they should, so for the, "You don't love mother and you don't love me," line to work to its fullest impact, it should have been phrased as, “You don’t love me!  Neither you or Mom love me!”

I do love Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel…but Octavia’s character is really poorly handled.  I remember it being said in an interview that Helluva Boss does have heavier focus on its male characters while Hazbin Hotel was supposed to be more female-centric, but when it comes to Octavia, that structure in the storytelling is crumbling under its own weight. There is a story here and it has some major gaps that need addressing.

To give them some benefit of doubt, maybe this’ll be addressed in an episode before that line hits, so maybe it’ll make more sense. Or they could make it clear she said it out of anger.  At least, I hope so because I really need some righteous retribution for how Stolas behaves with his daughter.

...

Edit for clarity: The point of this post is a criticism of the lack of story we get for Octavia that justifies her motives, not a criticism of why she herself behaves the way that she does. The dysfunctional family is heavy stuff and since it is a front and center issue with Stolas' background, it needs more attention than the series gives it.

[mightymelancholy]

Adding on to a previous post since I feel it's more appropriate to explain here. Warning it gets ranty

I feel a lot of people would miss these "this character is xyz" tweets and live streams. I mean Peridot having little to no sexual/romantic attraction didn't even cross my mind as a young kid or even when I got older. Her being aroace had to be pointed at to me by other YouTubers since I didn't have Twitter (not calling it "X") to see the tweet or the book alluding to her to be aroace. Also because her being aroace wouldn't automatically block off from fusion, since fusion represents varying relationships like toxic relationships, romantic, sexual, polyamorous, monogamous, platonic, and familial relationships. It seems weird to imply Peridot can't have strong platonic and familial fusions just because she's aroace. That's an unfortunate stereotype that the Crewniverse fell into.

Also I won't even get into how Alastor's asexual/aroace identity was vaguely referenced by a joke that was very easy to miss.

Go watch this good video by The Ace Couple

And Octavia hardly contributed to Helluva Boss due to her being overshadowed by her neglectful father that sexually coercived a person with a poor education and a daughter, employees, and himself to financially provide for. I'll keep bringing up how terrible of a character Stolas is any chance I get lol But again a character being ace and or aro is an afterthought even to queer creators, but characters like Angel Dust, Fizz, Blitzø, Ozzie, and Stolas can mention how gay they are. There's nothing inherently wrong with sexual humor it is just that the writers of Hazbin and Helluva think overusing it is funny.

Full Moon was so bad for this 😭 Like making fun of sex toys by having the Cherubs think there torture devices isn't that funny and since they're intentionally or not making fun of people who use them. Like making fun of sex toys and BDSM is hardly funny anymore and really wasn't before at least in the ways some people did it so childishly. The people that participate in those things already get stigmatized enough, why is the show using it as a punchline??

It's just weird and kinda fetishy that the writers depict the prominent gay male characters in the show as extremely sexual people, while asexuals and aromantics can't even mention their orientation. The show uses the word gay or other similar words a good amount of times but only says ace ONCE in Hazbin Hotel that could easily go over someone's head. If people have to go looking for evidence and confirmation outside the show proper then that's not what I'd call good representation. What if platforms get taken down or the posts get removed for whatever reason, then that PROOF of the characters sexuality is gone.

Point is add more characters that are explicitly or heavily implied to be ace and or aro. This shouldn't be hard to make diverse characters important that are also their own person while not ignoring their sexual and romantic orientation. If a character can say they're gay/lesbian/bisexual etc. and like sex with pride, then why can't an ace/aro character.

[butmakeitgayblog]

How would your version of canon Lexa be when Clarke tells her wifey that she was with Niylah that one time ? 😅

You mean like in my canon oneshot that's coming up?

Well they do touch on that topic 👀

Mind you in the fic the two haven't seen each other in weeks/months. The last time they were in the same room or communicated beyond quick messages via Octavia and the trader herself was after they'd spent the afternoon naked in Lexa's bed. They'd kissed and dressed in quiet, trading barely there smiles and sneaking glances at the same bodies they'd just worshipped for the past few hours, still feeling that nervous energy buzzing between them and ignoring the very real blockade slowly assembly between them with each piece of clothing they pulled back on. When Clarke had slipped out of Lexa's room with a promise that she'd figure out a way to get messages back to Lexa on the progress of her revolt, it'd been Lexa that she'd left standing next to the bed of rumpled furs.

But it's definitely the Commander staring at her in the dim flicker of candlelight inside the old hut where they finally meet. It's not the light green eyes of her lover from that afternoon, but rather the charcoal black eyes watching her from behind a mask of kohl that remind her so much of that night she chose to put Finn out of his misery before a more unpleasant justice could be served. Black eyes staring unblinking, burning a hole through her as she vaguely explains that she picked Niylah of all people as her secret messenger because she can be trusted.

And that, yes, she is sure about that trust... because she's... had to rely on it before...

The clench and shift of Lexa's jaw is all she needs to see to know how Lexa feels about that.

"The Azgeda?"

"She's Trikru, Lexa."

"Her mother was Azgeda," is the regal Heda's clipped response. Spoken like an accusation, or tattletale's last ditch trump card; as though that's all the damning information that should be needed in a situation as tangled as this.

It's not exactly an argument. More of a squabble, really. Because, Lexa? This really isn't the time ಠ_ಠ

But Lexa, in her very regal and not at all strained diplomatic cadence, just happens to feel like actually they very much should go over the trustworthiness of an Azgeda knowing their secrets ("She doesn't read the notes, Lexa." "That's hardly the point, Klark."), not to mention the fact that she's been breaking the blockade without her Heda's consent ("Are you serious right now? She's been keeping me alive in there." "Yes, I'm sure she's always very... hospitable.")

In the end it's a dead issue because it's not exactly like Lexa has any reason to actually be angry, and Clarke annoyingly isn't afraid to remind her of that fact. Those months she spent in the woods are still such a tender subject between them that while Clarke can see the jealousy burning white hot through Lexa's eyes and every grinding twitch of her jaw, she appreciates the fact that Lexa ultimately doesn't push the issue beyond the initial squabbling.

But when they do inevitably fall into bed together before heading back out their separate ways, it's not easy to miss the harsher, more intense way Lexa fucks her this time around. The more demanding edge to her kiss, the rougher bites to her neck and breasts, the way her hips add force behind every thrust of her fingers - like she's ensuring Clarke will feel the echoes of her for hours on the walk back to Arkadia.

[sopranoentravesti]

Not directly inspired by anything except for *gestures vaguely at the surrounding shitshow* but I do think more people could stand to read this article by Dara Horn about Roald Dahl from 2021.

I’ve included text of the article as well, under the cut. And to head off the whining of those who will perceive this as an attack on their favorite children’s book writer or whatever: read the damn article. This isn’t about “cancelling,” someone for being bigoted (hell, if I boycotted books or plays because the author was virulently antisemitic, there would be precious little to read). It is about understanding a really dark part of human psychology that is at play in conspiratorial thinking— which of course is at the heart of antisemitism— that Roald Dahl capitalized on. Developing a more mature sense of morality, rather than indulging in the bloody politics of blame and vengeance is crucial.

There’s nothing quite like the realization that what you thought was an empowering work of art is actually a 200-page exercise in trolling. It took me more than 30 years to figure out that I’d been trolled by Roald Dahl.

Dahl, who dominated juvenile publishing when I was growing up, revealed himself late in his career to be a vicious antisemite, who thought “powerful American Jewish bankers” ran the US government. He told the New Statesman that “there is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean, there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” This was in 1983, the year in which Dahl published The Witches, his 13th novel for children.

Apparently, Dahl had been an antisemite his entire life, but it didn’t prevent him from being essentially canonized after his death in 1990, and it didn’t much affect my thoughts about him either. I had adored his books as a child, and I’ve never taken much interest in the now-obligatory grunt work of connecting artists’ personalities (often horrible) with their works (sometimes great). And although Dahl was not only an antisemite but also (and even more damningly these days) a misogynist and a racist, he hasn’t been canceled yet. Who doesn’t love Roald Dahl, or at least his stories?

Hollywood certainly does. The most recent Dahl adaptation, which began streaming on HBO Max this Halloween season, is called Roald Dahl’s The Witches (note the value of the authorial brand), directed and written by Robert Zemeckis, with the help of two younger Hollywood powerhouses, Kenya Barris and Guillermo del Toro. It stars the high wattage Octavia Spencer, perhaps best known for her Oscar-winning role in The Help, and A-lister Anne Hathaway, not to mention the voice of the comedian Chris Rock. In fact, this is the second big-budget version of The Witches, the first having been a 1990 film starring Anjelica Huston.

But The Witches was on my mind long before I’d heard about the new movie. It was one of my favorite books when I was a child, one I read repeatedly and pressed into the hands of friends. I was eager to share it with my own children and hesitated only because, as a child, I’d also found it somewhat terrifying. But when I read it aloud to my eight-year-old son last month, I discovered that it was far more terrifying than I remembered, and for entirely different reasons.

The key to Dahl’s success as a children’s author lay in how he pitted children against adults, making children into a beloved underdog class whose moral victory lay in vanquishing their powerful exploiters. His heroes are blameless boys and girls tortured by diabolically abusive adults, whom they destroy in outrageous revenge sequences of the sort even the most fortunate child occasionally fantasizes about. In James and the Giant Peach, for instance, the orphaned James, enslaved by his villainous aunts, squashes them to death with the titular fruit. In Matilda, a kindergartener uses magic powers to terrorize a school principal who routinely locks children in a nail-studded closet. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the starving Charlie, living in the sort of poverty that would make Oliver Twist qualify as a one-percenter, inherits a fantastical candy factory—but only after a book-length morality play in which wealthy children and their entitled parents are absurdly tortured and maimed. In George’s Marvelous Medicine, a boy forced to care for his heartless grandmother concocts a potion that makes her shrink and disappear.

In short, Dahl is like a modern Charles Dickens, except instead of social justice and spiritual redemption, Dahl’s books offer only revenge. Kids, like all emotionally and morally stunted people, eat this stuff up. Dahl tapped into something primal and hideous in the human psyche: the desire of disenfranchised people to feel righteous precisely by demonizing others. As a kid, I bought this too. The sheer sadism of it went right over my head until I shared these books with my children and saw how I’d been punked. And The Witches was the worst.

The Witches is about a boy who is orphaned in the opening chapter—pity points are always crucial for Dahl—and then adopted by his loving Grandmamma, a kindly old lady who fills him in on a little-known scourge. Witches, she explains, are real. They are demons disguised as women, and their sole purpose is to entrap and destroy innocent children through their diabolical magic. One unfortunate boy, for example, went off with a witch and returned unharmed—but later hardened into a stone statue. After vanishing with a witch, a girl reappeared only in a landscape painting in her family’s home, changing positions whenever the family wasn’t watching and even aging as years passed. (That one haunted me for decades.) Other children are “disappeared” in ways worthy of an Argentine junta. Kids better watch out.

One summer on a beach vacation with Grandmamma, our hero wanders into a hotel conference room occupied by a group calling itself the “Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.” In fact, it is a coven of witches discussing their latest plan, a potion designed to turn children into mice. They discover the boy and immediately mouse-ify him, but now that our talking mouse hero knows where they keep their potions, he and Grandmamma hatch a clever plot to administer them to the witches themselves. Hijinks ensue, evil is vanquished, and although the narrator remains a mouse, he doesn’t mind. He and Grandmamma embark on a crusade to take out the witches of the world, and he never has to go to school again.

The book chimed perfectly with the stories of “stranger danger” that other 1980s children and I were constantly fed in state-mandated school curricula, but it made that threat delightfully preposterous—and manageable since all one had to do was believe that certain adults were actually demons with recognizable tells. It was a highly rewarding fantasy. After all, it was clear to me, as it was to every young reader, that even adults who didn’t molest children in shopping malls were nonetheless conspiring against us, making us do dehumanizing tasks like making beds and taking tests. The book was empowering. With its frisson of secret knowledge, it made us feel righteous and invincible. Unfortunately, revisiting it as an adult revealed that the book was cribbed from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion—and helped me understand, for perhaps the first time, antisemitism’s seductive appeal.

“Witches,” Grandmamma explains, “are not actually women at all . . . They are demons in human shape.” How do you spot one? Well, since they’re demons, they have toeless hooves instead of feet and claws instead of fingers, disguised by fashionable shoes and gloves. You can’t spot those, but you can spot their “larger nose-holes than ordinary people” (the better to smell you with, my dear). But the real tell, of course, is that witches are bald—which is why a witch always wears “a first-class wig,” which she puts “straight on her naked scalp.”

As I read this aloud to my enthralled son, it was hard to miss how much these witches resembled women in, say, Stamford Hill (the London version of Borough Park). It was also hard to miss how much they resembled caricatures from Der Stürmer or a medieval blood libel. Was I overinterpreting?

You be the judge: “Wherever you find people, you find witches,” Grandmamma tells her innocent grandchild. “There is a Secret Society of Witches in every country. . . . An English witch, for example, will know all the other witches in England.” If this was too subtle, Grandmamma clarifies: “Once a year, the witches of each separate country hold their own secret meeting. They all get together in one place to receive a lecture from The Grand High Witch of All the World.” The boy’s question about this fun fact is, at this point, predictable: “Is she rich?”

Grandmamma replies, “She’s rolling. Simply rolling in money. Rumour has it that there is a machine in her headquarters which is exactly like the machine the government uses to print the bank-notes you and I use.” The boy then asks, as any normal child would, “What about foreign money?” You already know the answer: “Those machines can make Chinese money if you want them to.” Here, the boy turns skeptical: “If nobody has ever seen the Grand High Witch, how can you be so sure she exists?” Grandmamma counters, “Nobody has seen the Devil, but we know he exists.” All of this isn’t merely true, we are told, but “the gospel truth” (the italics are Dahl’s). After all, Grandmamma “went to church every morning of the week and she said grace before every meal, and somebody who did that would never tell lies.” As Grandmamma warns her dear boy, “All you can do is cross your heart and pray to heaven.”

Alas, crossing his heart and praying to heaven doesn’t protect our hero from his encounter with the Elders of Witchdom, at which point Dahl drops all pretense. The Grand High Witch, we learn, “had a peculiar way of speaking. There was some sort of a foreign accent there, something harsh and guttural, and she seemed to have trouble pronouncing the letter w. As well as that, she did something funny with the letter r. She would roll it round and round her mouth.” The Grand High Witch, in her Yiddish accent, explains to her secret society how they will lure England’s children by buying high-end sweet shops and poisoning the candy, since “Money is not a prrroblem to us vitches as you know very well. I have brrrought with me six trrrunks stuffed full of Inklish bank-notes, all new and crrrisp” (italics mine).

Few children can resist the lure of witches. My son loved the book so much that he wanted to see the movie. Perhaps you are wondering: is the 2020 Hollywood version, whose creators unsurprisingly included plenty of Jews, antisemitic? The short answer is no, or not exactly, but that’s also the wrong question.

Adapting from a source this hideous was never going to be easy or entirely uncontroversial, and the new film has already been slammed for portraying limb differences as evil (instead of the claws mentioned in the book, the film’s witches are depicted with missing fingers). Despite that tone-deaf choice, it’s clear that the filmmakers were aware of the book’s larger problems. To their credit, they knew they had to fix something, and they went big: instead of contemporary England, Roald Dahl’s The Witches takes place in 1968 Alabama, and the protagonist and his grandmother are Black (Octavia Spencer’s Grandmamma is even a voodoo healer). Unlike the 1990 movie, the witches no longer have big noses and are, in fact, racially diverse. At first, this does seem poised to dilute some of the book’s inherent awfulness: when a Black witch attacked the protagonist in an early scene, I had high hopes for a story where “evil” was depicted solely through Marvel Universe methods of pancake makeup and special effects. But that scene proved to be half-hearted tokenism, since the rest of the film focuses almost entirely on, to use the current term, white-presenting witches—and most tellingly, what really distinguishes witches in this film is that they are rich. As we watch a flashback of the lily-white and fabulously dressed Anne Hathaway as the Grand High Witch attacking an impoverished Black child in a 1920s Alabama shantytown, Grandmamma tells us that “witches always prey on the poor.”

This class warfare idea is utterly absent from Dahl’s book, but it perhaps unintentionally provides a trendy update to his rather old-school racial antisemitism: the idea that a secret society of fantastically wealthy “global elites”—often, but not inevitably, Jews—prey on the poor. This means that bigotry against them, rather than being retrograde, is, in fact, a fresh and righteous way of “punching up.” Instead of just protecting innocent children, this new Grandmamma now also shares her truth to defend the downtrodden, like every righteous nutjob tweeting about the Rothschilds or George Soros. In the book, nothing much happens with the Grand High Witch’s counterfeit cash. But here Grandmamma commandeers it at the film’s triumphant end and hands out hundred-dollar bills to the hotel’s exploited Black employees.

If this sounds tedious, it is. Roald Dahl’s The Witches is wretched less because of the book’s wretched premise than because it is a conventionally lousy children’s movie, full of Hollywood pieties (in the climactic scene, Grandmamma actually lectures the Grand High Witch about the Power of Love), canned stereotypes and recycled animation. That doesn’t mean kids won’t love it, of course. As Hollywood knows well, everyone loves a good conspiracy theory—and that’s the problem.

My kids laughed their way through the movie’s animated mice and cookie-cutter triumphs, enjoying everything that conventional children’s stories do best—reinforce their audience’s expectations, vanquish villains, and make powerless people feel superior. Conspiracy theories make for great stories, but in an era when a nontrivial proportion of the American electorate apparently believes in the QAnon conspiracy theory that a secret cabal of satanic pedophiles preys on American children and the country, I couldn’t help feeling that this film was, at the very least, ill-timed.

It is so easy, after all, to believe in a conspiracy, so self-indulgent, so appealing—and, as I now finally understood, so much fun. Watching this mediocre and unremarkable movie left me shockingly ill at ease, precisely because it was so mediocre and unremarkable. My discomfort was compounded by the knowledge that the eight-year-old me would have loved it too, not knowing any better. Few children do. In the elaborate, magical long game of luring innocents into handing over their hearts, it turns out that the Grand High Witch was actually Roald Dahl.

[rosietrace]

「 You & I ≠ Always 」

⊱────────────────────⊰

Central Character(s) ; 『 Sumeragi Yuuta, “The Golden Rule” 』 | 『 “Rei-Rei”, “The Secret Silly Symphony 』

Others ; Octavia Fortunato | “Rei-Rei’s” Dad

Mentioned ; Inafuku Kenshō | Jamil Viper

Pairing(s) ; Yuuta & “Rei-Rei” (Platonic) | Yuuta & Octavia (Platonic) | Octavia & Jamil (Implied)

【 This is a short story important to the central character's story; All Ocs belong to their respective owners and will be credited at the end. 】

Synopsis: “Time is an illusion that helps things make sense; It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends; but You and I will always be back then.”

Warning(s): Angst hours, implied child abuse, bullying, the concept of ‘change’, shockingly longer than I thought, kinda projecting on some parts but let's not go into that, I apologize so much for this 😭 (it gets sorta wholesome at the end)

【 IMPORTANT NOTE: The characters of “Rei-Rei” and “Octavia” are by @/jasdiary, and are currently unreleased. Some details will remain vague until their eventual release. 】

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

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“Alright, you two, times up.”

Having put a stop to a bloodbath of a pillow fight, Yuuta's frown was more akin to a pout; whereas Rei-Rei, still filled with adrenaline and feeling a bit too energetic to go to bed just yet, whined and flopped down on to her stomach on the bed.

Her father smiled, shaking his head and stepping into the room. “C'mon, Lucky Rabbit…” he picked her up in his arms, tucking her and Yuuta into bed.

“But dad!” Rei-Rei exclaimed, her voice righteous and fierce. “Me and Yuu haven't even finished pillow fighting!”

Her father rolled his eyes playfully, stroking her hair. “I know, Rabbit, but it's past your bedtime… and I already extended it for long enough.”

“Please, Mr. Rei-Rei’s Dad?” Yuuta pleaded shyly; he didn't know why, but he always felt more shy around his friend's father— at least, more shy than he already was. That odd sense of familiarity was no doubt strange to then eight year old Yuuta, who kept his then seven years old best friend in the dark about it.

Rei-Rei's father stared at Yuuta, his eyes soft. There it was again, that odd wave of familiarity, of nostalgia, as they locked eyes; even Rei-Rei, oblivious to that odd connection, tilted her head in curiosity.

Her father sighed softly, stroking Yuuta's head as well. “Maybe next time, Mouse… I can't let you two sleep too late.”

Rei-Rei pouted. “But dad-!”

She felt a swift tap of her nose, courtesy of the pad of her father's index finger. “Ah, ah, ah, young lady. Don't complain too much, now, I'll let you two stay up until midnight next time.”

“But next time could be ages!” Rei-Rei groaned, sitting up to stare up at her father with an adorable frown. “Yuuta's mom won't even let me go to his house!”

“Well, Rei, you know Mrs. Kenshō and her husband are very…” Rei-Rei's father trailed from his sentence, trying to find the right words without offending Yuuta's parents; who weren't even in the room with them.

“... Private. They're very private people, Rei.”

At the mention of his adopted mother, Yuuta seemingly sunk deeper into the mattress, obscuring the lower half of his face with a creased forehead.

Inafuku Kenshō wasn't what one would call pleasant. At least, not in the spectrum of raising a child she and her husband found off of the streets; Yuuta's relationship with both his parents was almost completely sterile.

They gave him whatever he wanted, but what good did that bring when the thing he really wanted was to spend time with either of them? And not in the way where he'd end up with handprints on his face, the blood rushing to the area to form an angry red.

No amount of materialism could prevent Yuuta from still feeling that sting, every now and again.

Rei-Rei's father let out a soft breath, shaking whatever thoughts he had away. Literally. He stood from the edge of his daughter's bed, kissing the top of both her and Yuuta's heads.

“I'll wake you two up tomorrow.”

Right before he was about to leave, Rei-Rei asked one more question: “Can you make onigiri for breakfast?”

That surprised a laugh out of her father. A soft, gut-wrenching laugh that made Yuuta think of the unlikely scenario he'd made up in it his head; that it were Rei-Rei's father raising him alongside his daughter and that, instead of bandaging his own wounds, Rei-Rei's father would bandage them himself.

Yuuta liked playing what-if, because of those scenarios. Scenarios that'll never become reality; even if he wished his hardest at the evening stars.

Shutting off the lights, the man smiled down at the two of them one last time, his only response to Rei-Rei's request being a small nod.

Finally, with the close of the door, Rei-Rei's father bid them good night— seemingly anticipating that the two balls of energy wouldn't truly be ‘asleep’; at least, not until their energy had saded.

The very moment her father closed the door, Rei-Rei peaked one eye open, listening closely for the footsteps of her father slowly getting farther and farther away.

She turned, lightly nudging Yuuta. “Psst! Yuuta!”

Yuuta's eyes opened. “Is he gone?”

She took one look back at the door, then at him, and nodded. “I think so!”

They both sat up with their backs against the headboard of Rei-Rei's twin sized bed. Taking a quick second to reach her hand beneath the bed, Rei-Rei took out a bag of potato chips she'd presumably been saving for what was currently past midnight. A post-midnight snack, if you will.

Carefully opening it without potentially waking anyone walking by ��� whether it be Rei-Rei's mother or father, it didn't matter — the two made the call that eating potato chips while it was way past their expected bedtime to be… a very bad idea.

Which they gladly took upon regardless of the consequences that could occur if they got caught!

They talked for what felt like an eternity, their conversations switching from different topics like clockwork; from theme parks, to junk food, to school life.

With school as their current subject, Rei-Rei began to ask Yuuta, “what do you think it'll be like?”

Puzzled, Yuuta replied with, “what what will be like?”

“Y'know!” Rei-Rei giggled, poking his shoulder with a cheeky smile. “Graduation! A new school!”

Yuuta and Rei-Rei were only eight and seven, respectively. And while that might've implied that they were one school year apart, they were born on the same year, only a few months apart.

With a purse of his lips, Yuuta didn't see much of the point on why his friend could bother with that kind of question. It wasn't like their elementary graduation was anywhere near— they still had a few more years to go before that could happen.

“I… I don't know.” He gave her a small shrug, tossing another potato chip into his mouth and chewing on it as quietly as he could manage.

“But aren't you cu… curi… curious? Curious!” Rei-Rei had the kind of smile that Yuuta would deem, ‘infectuous’. In a good way.

“I mean,”— Yuuta wiped his sour cream powdered hands with his pajamas, then went on to reach out and undo Rei-Rei's braids—“I guess a little.. what would it be like?”

“Dunno!” she flopped her head down on Yuuta's lap, closing her eyes while he undid her braids. Not quite tired, yet not nearly as energized as she was before.

“I just know it's gonna be… different. Would it be a good different?”

“I don't know…”

“Hmm… well, I want it to be a good different.”

As Yuuta laid down beside her, they both wrapped each other's arms into a hug. Rei-Rei let her head rest on Yuuta's shoulder.

“I wanna go to the same junior school as you,” Rei-Rei decreed, her voice soft, on the verge of a yawn.

“You do?” Yuuta had always assumed that he'd see Rei-Rei less and less as time went on, after graduating from elementary; until it would go to a point where he'd never see her at all.

“Mhm..” Rei-Rei snuggled closer, letting out a yawn. “You're my best friend, Yuu.”

Then, came the emotionally wrecking addition to that declaration that almost made a dam of emotion collapse onto Yuuta's being.

“And I don't want that to change.”

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Yuuta still stood at the entrance of his now, former elementary school. His certificate in one hand, Rei-Rei's hand in the other.

It was Rei-Rei and her parents that accompanied him to the school for graduation; his father was too busy with business investments, and his mother… he didn't know.

As Rei-Rei's mother took her away, thus slipping Rei-Rei's hand away from Yuuta's while she fussed about the current messiness of her daughter's tear-soaked face— her father bent down to Yuuta's level.

“You okay?” Rei-Rei's father asked him, a comforting hand on Yuuta's shoulder.

No, Yuuta answered in his head, I'm not.

Graduating from elementary hit Yuuta harder than he thought it would. All those memories, the teachers he'd grown attached to, many of the friends he made— most of, if not all of those, would end after the ceremony.

And it did. As everyone else had left the school hours ago to celebrate, Yuuta felt insistent on staying for just a moment longer. As if to grasp at straws to all those memories for as long as they could before he'd have to let go.

He sniffled, looking down with a small shake of his head. Even if he didn't voice his reply to Rei-Rei's father, Yuuta knew that the man crouching beside him was a very observant person.

He gave the best advice, Yuuta believed. When his own father wasn't around, Rei-Rei's father would pick Yuuta up to and from school.

Yuuta felt welcome every time he got the chance to visit Rei-Rei's house. He felt safe there in a way he never was in his own home. Like he belonged there, in a way he never felt in his home.

Rei-Rei's father stared at Yuuta, his brows furrowing in worry. He pulled Yuuta into a hug, and that was when Yuuta felt safe enough to cry.

“I'm-” Yuuta didn't like crying; his father always told him crying was only a waste of time. “I'm sorry—”

“Don't be…” Rei-Rei's father pulled him closer, resting his chin on the top of Yuuta's head and rubbing his back in as comforting of a manner as he could.

“You should never be ashamed to cry, Yuuta… it's just a part of being human.”

While her mother fussed about her messy hair, her dirty uniform, and her tear-soaked face, Rei-Rei stared sadly at Yuuta.

She always thought herself as the kind of girl that could fill silences. The kind that could brighten a room no matter the circumstance, and in turn, the people in that room who were having a less than pleasant mood.

But with Yuuta… she never wanted to think about it too much, but she always found it hard to comfort Yuuta.

Words never formed even when she wanted them to. She could only manage bringing Yuuta into a hug and telling him that it'll all work out in the end— it was always him that did the comforting, never her.

All she could do was to only hope for the best. For both her, Yuuta, and their friendship. And that it could last for as long as they lived.

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Why did it have to turn out like this?

Rei-Rei asked that question over, and over, and over again in her head; her twin-braided hair soaked in dirty water, her body shaking, and every single one of the more recent stitches reopening and bleeding out.

Four people stood in front of her: two twins, both of them boys, one girl, and the one that pained her the most— Yuuta.

He was the one holding the bucket that was dropped over her head. She smelled of dirty school bathroom water, but all she could think about was: Why? What happened?

One of the twins snickered. “Look at her, she's crying!” Rei-Rei didn't realize the tears were flooding out until they were pointed out.

The other twin snickered with their brother. “What else is new? She's the school crybaby.”

The girl took out a pair of scissors, smiling widely — far too widely — at Rei-Rei's hair. She'd been growing it out for the better part of two years since elementary graduation… and she figured that now, it wouldn't be as long as it was for any longer.

Before the girl could even take a step closer, Yuuta stopped her, his hand gripping her wrist.

A ray of hope flashed in Rei-Rei's eyes. A small sliver, pleading with Yuuta before things could escalate with nothing but the eye contact they currently shared.

Yuuta's body was stiff, rigid. His grip tightened around the girl's wrist, making her squeal. “Y-Yuuta-!! Your hand-!”

“Sorry,” Yuuta said with a newfound lack of emotion Rei-Rei had realized, all too late, fit him far too well.

“But we shouldn't cut her hair.”

“Huh??” One twin’s jaw went slightly slack.

The other twin was outright outraged. “What the hell?? But it'd be so funny!!”

“And?” Yuuta shoved the bucket into the younger twin's chest, then locked eyes with Rei-Rei after pulling her hair up.

“She's already so…” his nose crinkled, his teeth bared in disgust. “Y'know what I mean?”

A swift push later, Rei-Rei was back on the ground, drenched in dirty water, her braids flimsy and undone; all her recent stitches reopened.

When she looked up, she hoped — if only for a moment — that she'd see a hint of regret from Yuuta. Any regret, any guilt; anything that could make her forgive him.

But he already turned his back on her, laughing with the rest of his new ‘friends’, before they all ran off to do God knows what.

Weakly, she sat up, looking down at herself. She knew nothing about those kids, not even their names, but she knew one thing. Because of them, her hopes were crushed.

Yuuta's changed. She missed him and who he used to be. But she lost him, too.

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Yuuta lost her. He lost Rei-Rei, and he was already beginning to slowly forget the details of her face. The color of her eyes.

Her smile.

His grip on the stuffed rabbit tightened unknowingly, his jaw clenched.

Most of everyone in Ramshackle were off on their own devices. Whatever they were doing, it wasn't important to him— not as important as trying to remember for even a moment, a semblance of what he could reminisce about Rei-Rei.

The laughs they shared, the memories they made; the good, the bad. The ones that made him smile in nostalgia, and the ones that made him want to punch through a wall out of sheer regret.

He remembered the day he started noticing her going to school less and less, until she just stopped coming. And once she stopped, it didn't take Yuuta long to finally come to terms with how shitty he'd treated her.

Maybe it was a courtesy, he thought to himself, staring down at the stuffed rabbit in his hands with a dark expression on his face. she's far, far away from me now.

And that's for the bes—

“Yuuta?”

He, very uncharacteristically, yelped, throwing the stuffed rabbit to the side and whipped his head toward the source of the voice.

His eyes narrowed into slits once he processed who called out to him.

“Octavia,” Yuuta crossed his arms, arching a conspicuous brow. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothin',” Octavia had a habit of acting very cartoonishly. Almost every single thing she did, or said, reminded Yuuta of all the old cartoon reruns he and Rei-Rei would watch as children.

Octavia herself reminded him far too much of Rei-Rei. The girl she used to be to him, far more than anyone else in Ramshackle.

“It's clearly somethin',” Yuuta drawled, the two of them circling each other in his room like two cowboys preparing to duel at high noon. Ridiculous.

Octavia chortled, batting her eyelashes innocently with clasped hands. “What makes you think that?”

Yuuta found it best not to go along with whatever antics she had planned by continuing that subject. Instead, he switched it by asking, “shouldn't you be with Jamil?”

Damn it. Even the sound of Jamil's name on his tongue irritated Yuuta, almost as much as the thought of Octavia spending time with the guy who was damn near close to killing them during the winter break.

Octavia sighed solemnly, the back of her hand melodramatically placed on her forehead. “He is, apparently, too busy with another party in Scarabia…”

“And that stopped you?”

“Nope!”

This girl, I swear. “And…?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… y'know..” he did not seem to, in fact, know. When Octavia realized that, she made a bunch of wild and frustratingly vague gestures with her hands.

Frustrated, Yuuta just said what she wanted to convey. “You want me to come with you?”

“Exactly!” Octavia beamed at him. For some reason, it hit Yuuta, hard.

With a gentle sigh, Yuuta conceded. He didn't say much, or anything at all. He gave her a nod, taking her hand to let her have a quick twirl right before Octavia laughed like an animated madwoman and dragged him to Scarabia at the speed of light.

Octavia wasn't stupid, however. Bubbly, cartoonish, with a heart full of snark? Sure, but not stupid.

Yuuta had the habit of staring at her for extended consecutive periods of time. As if he were remembering a time where things were simpler, and the cruel realities of the world — even in a world like Twisted Wonderland — weren't plaguing them in their thoughts.

Oh, if only he knew. Octavia didn't know if he knew. Maybe he forgot.

But she certainly didn't.

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【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

“Rei-Rei” — @jasdiary

Octavia Fortunato — @/jasdiary

Sumeragi Yuuta — Me 😈

|| @starry-night-rose || @authoruio || @nem0-nee || @fumikomiyasaki || @sakuramidnight15 || @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm || @twsted-princess || @mystery-skulls-ghost || @absolutelyobsessedkiya / @twistedsongstressofstarz || @valse-a-mille-temps || @shrimpnetwrk ||

[anthurak]

So a fun thing about Apology Tour (as well as The Full Moon) taking place on/around Halloween is that I think we can use that to get a decent idea as to the in-universe timespan of the show. Specifically when we place it relative to the other episodes we’ve gotten that take place during a very specific time of the year; Spring Broken taking place in March, and The Harvest Moon Festival taking place in September.

The second is especially significant given that Apology Tour involves Halloween. As I imagine it’s pretty clear that the rest of Season 1 and all of Season 2 thus far have NOT happened in the span of a single month. In fact, the show actively disproves such a claim with Blitzo’s comments in The Full Moon about Stolas letting him off their meetups for the ‘last few months’.

Meaning that it’s safe to assume that all of Season 2, plus the last three episodes of Season 1, takes place over a year and some change. Add in Spring Broken, and we’re looking at a total in-universe timeframe of at minimum a year and a half, though it’s probably closer to a year and three-quarters or even close to a full two years. Especially if we’re looking to Blitzo getting the Grimoire from Stolas and the proper start of I.M.P.

Like how Episode 1 and the Mayberry contract are definitely one of I.M.P.’s first jobs, but just as definitely isn’t their first ever contract. Likewise, while Episode 1 is where Stolas and Blitzo establish their monthly rendezvous’, their phonecall also makes it clear that Blitzo HAS had the book for a little while at this point. With that in mind, I think we can guess it’s about a month or so, perhaps two months max, between Blitzo’s and Stolas’s reunion and Episode 1.

After that, it’s admittedly a bit up in the air how much time we have between Murder Family and Spring Broken, or when Loo Loo Land fits in. It’s could be weeks, it could be months.

Loo Loo Land in particular is a bit hard to place. As others have noted, Stella’s blowup at Stolas implies that the episode could be taking place very soon after Stolas’s first night with Blitzo. Which in turn could place Loo Loo Land BEFORE Murder Family in chronological order.

Then again, we also know that Stella is often looking for an excuse to yell at Stolas, so it could also be that this is taking place a couple months later and Stella simply decided that ‘sleeping with an imp’ is what she wanted to be angry at Stolas about this particular morning. So I’m honestly comfortable assuming it really does take place sometime between Murder Family and Spring Broken.

After that, C.H.E.R.U.B.S. fits nicely somewhere in the six-ish month gap between Spring Broken and Harvest Moon.

Though following THMF, things do get a bit more loose and vague before we get to The Full Moon and Apology Tour, though there are some interesting factors to consider.

For one, while we don’t have a specific date for it, we DO know that Ozzie’s and Queen Bee, plus the present-day segments of The Circus, take place on/after Moxxie’s and Millie’s one-year wedding anniversary. So if we ever get an established date for the M&M’s wedding, we’ll likewise have a date for the Season 1 finale and Season 2 premier.

Something else notable about The Circus is Stolas’s comment about Octavia being seventeen. Now Octavia being seventeen was first mentioned when her character was first revealed in promotional material prior to her first appearance, meaning that I think we can safely assume that she IS seventeen during her actual first appearance in Loo Loo Land. Which in turn would indicate that the present-day segment of The Circus, along with Ozzie’s and Queen Bee, takes place LESS than a year after Loo Loo Land. Though it’s also worth noting given everything we’ve gone over that this timeframe between these episodes is clearly the better part of a year. Which I imagine puts Octavia’s seventeenth birthday not long before Loo Loo Land. Plus I feel like Octavia getting close to eighteen by the time Season 2 starts ties nicely into the point Stolas makes about her NOT being a child anymore.

Like this next bit is pure headcanon on my part, but I’ve always liked the idea that Seeing Stars takes place just a few weeks before Octavia’s eighteenth birthday, as that would nicely parallel what we learn about Loona in the same episode with how she was adopted by Blitzo just a few weeks before her own eighteenth birthday. Not to mention how Octavia’s arc and character are all about her growing up becoming an adult.

After that, the only other ‘time-mark’ of note is the episode Unhappy Campers taking place at a summer camp, ie; summer break. Which while not exact, does slot nicely into everything else we’ve seen: a few months before Apology Tour and several months after Harvest Moon.

Finally, assuming that the episode Sinsmas really is meant to take place around Christmas, this also gives us a neat little month-ish window for Ghostfuckers and Mastermind to happen. Particularly if we end up getting another Ozzie’s/Queen Bee situation with Mastermind and Sinsmas taking place one right after the other.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh Part 31,first half

Yeah this 100% needs to be in two halves because it's really fucking long. Also there will be an epilogue but holy shit I couldn't sleep last night and wrote like 25 pages over the course of a day.

When Sentry finally did leave his tent, he wandered the camp aimlessly, everyone else seemed to be asleep, he knew Halsin was, since the druid had remained by his side. He was vaguely aware that at some point, Astarion had stopped in to his tent to make sure he was alright. The elf had made no mention of whatever had happened to him in the battle Karlach had been so angry about, but Sentry could sense the tell tale resurrection magic Withers used. He knew he should have felt guilty, he knew he should be glad that almost everyone seemed to have forgiven him, but he felt hollow. He stared briefly at the path out of camp that would lead back to Rivington, a powerful urge to go and curl up between Commander Ojeda and Father Lorgan's graves and just be alone filled him, but a tug of shame at his chest held him back. He knew these people were his friends, he knew Astarion and Halsin loved him, he knew more than that that Astarion viewed Sentry as the reason he'd been strong enough not to ascend and no matter how flippant he was acting, Sentry being the one to turn on the others had to be a knife in the heart. But then, why should it surprise him that other people had self control, other people could be good and kind. Years of being a child of Bhaal had allowed Sentry to believe he had the capacity to do the right thing, to be good, but now, free of Bhaal's influence, he had carelessly tried to toss away every 'good' influence in his life, including someone who had been where he'd been, at least to some extent. His ears twitched as he heard the soft sounds of crying from a small courtyard by the Stormshore Tabernacle. Slowly, he made his way there and peered around the wall, eyes falling to Shadowheart, who was standing before a statue of Selune, looking almost as empty as he was. Clearing his throat, he approached her.

“Hey...” Was all he managed, raising a hand in greeting. “Oh....Sentry, did I wake you? I'm sorry, it's just...” She shifted awkwardly, gripping her upper arms and withdrawing into herself as though she were cold. “Just that I thought if I came here, to this shrine, that maybe I'd feel something...maybe it would all make sense, it would all be worth it...” Sentry cocked his head curiously, regarding the shabby, untended outdoor shrine of Selune, pitiful and lackluster even in The Moonmaiden's own light. “And you don't feel anything at all? You wonder what it was all for? Everything you lost, everything you went through?” She nodded her head. “It's stupid, isn't it? I never really even KNEW my parents and the other Sharrans were ever REALLY my friends...well...except Nocturne, really...she's the tiefling I remembered when we ate the Noblestalk...” “No, it isn't stupid.” Sentry replied, despite himself, he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Look at us, we were pawns to gods all our lives, our so called 'families' rang us out like dirty rags and would have tossed us aside and now that we're free of them, now that it's all over, we're just supposed to be okay.” He laughed hollowly. “Okay, Sentry, okay Shadowheart, okay Lae'zel, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Gale, everything you went through led up to you being a big damn hero and garnering the privilege of sacrificing even more to save a world that didn't help you when you needed it, that doesn't seem to care about you now! Sorry Kroger, sorry Jaina, sorry Octavia, you'll need to just spend a little more time on your knees in the dirt for people that made your lives hell. Sorry, Jaheira, a dead husband and a ton of friends ripped apart and thrown in the gutter just wasn't enough. Sorry Halsin, you haven't shouldered quite enough burdens in your lifetime.” Shadowheart nodded. “It is....”She screwed up her face and thought a moment, settling on the right words finally. “fucked up...isn't it?” Sentry nodded. “So if you don't feel any connection to Selune now, and hells, even if you never do....you don't have to.” He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Feel what you need to feel....It's alright to be angry, because this isn't fair...none of it is.” Feeling her lean close to him, he gently pulled her into a hug, rocking her softly and briefling hoisting her up off her feet. “It was never fair.”

She returned his embrace tightly. “I know this is going to sound...” She was sniffling now, warm tears soaking Sentry's neck. “like a platitude...” She squeezed him tightly. “But I'm sorry about your lover. He sounded like an absolute prick, but still he was yours and I'm sorry...” “And I'm sorry about your parents...and...hells, about the other sharrans...they sounded like pricks too, but hey, I know better than anyone that sometimes family is family.” He murmured. “And you know what? Your parents...I may not have known them....but I think they must have been so proud of you in the end. That doesn't mean shit right now, I know...but even though everything hurts, Shar didn't win. She doesn't have any control over you anymore...you freed Aylin from her, you freed yourself from her, so fuck her. Fuck that bitter old hag sitting in her little dark corner hugging her knees and sulking, trying to convince herself she broke you....I don't think she did...Because feeling like this is normal and every day from now on, even if it always hurts, every day you keep on going and find any kind of happiness, that's telling her to fuck herself.” Shadowheart smiled just a little and looked up at Sentry. “Gods your terrible at speeches....and you're terrible at comforting people....but you're not wrong. For all of us...moving forward and finding ways to be happy is our revenge.” Sentry didn't release the hug until Shadowheart did, finally stepping back and giving a small smile. “You good, then?” Shadowheart shrugged. “I think I will be...” ---- “So that's it? You're just going to pretend nothing happened?” Karlach glared at Sentry as he tended to his armor. The confrontation with The Elder Brain felt imminent now and everyone was in the process of preparing, but seeing him there, just going along with everyone else as if he hadn't betrayed them, betrayed HER so thoroughly, Karlach's temper was rising and she knew she couldn't hold her rage back any longer. “You're the ones who chose not to kill me.” Sentry replied hollowly. “You're also the ones that chose not to just deal fairly with Enver...now he's gone and there's nothing left for me.” He didn't even look up from his repairs as he spoke, his voice held no emotion. “You're also-also the ones that just waltzed into Haarlep's room and threw Jaina into that situation when I already sacrificed my dignity and well being to protect her...so there's that.” He added bluntly.

“Fuck you, Sentry! How were any of us supposed to know that!? And you went back to Gortash of all people! As if he wouldn't have sold you off as Raphael's breeding sow or whatever just so his plans could go off without a---” Karlach didn't get to finish as before she processed the movement, Sentry was on his feet and his fist connected with her nose, sending her staggering back. “You don't know what you're talking about, I recommend you keep Enver's name out of your mouth and far from that sad excuse for a Cambion's name.” Sentry spat, stepping forward as he drew himself to his full height. He still couldn't quite match Karlach, but he was imposing, there was a feral darkness to him that spoke of danger. “You don't get to play the victim, and you sure as shit don't get to demand we respect him!” Karlach shot back, her own fist slamming into Sentry's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. He aimed a vicious kick at her ankles, bringing her down right beside him and the two were on eachother in an instant, fingers digging into throats, tails raised in an aggressive stance, eyes burning with anger. The others were leaving their tents now to see the source of the commotion, eyes wide in shock as the bloodied tieflings rolled on the ground, punching and clawing, Sentry was even biting every now and then, blood was slicking the ground beneath them. “Let's go, bitch. You don't wanna go back to Avernus? Good! There won't be enough less of you to need to.” Sentry growled, slamming Karlach's head into the ground, only to be kneed hard in the stomach and tossed onto his back. “You wanna join Gortash so badly, you traitorous little shit? I'll send you to him first class Sword Coast Couriers direct.” Karlach replied, fingers closing around Sentry's throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. In a flurry of movement, Jaina's smooth, cool fingers wrapped around one of Karlach's arms and Wyll's warm, calloused hands around the other as the two struggled to pull her off of Sentry.

Halsin knelt down beside Sentry to help him to his feet and immediately catch him around the waist when he tried to charge at Karlach again. --- Sentry sat in his tent shortly after, healing his wounds with a look of annoyance. “Fucking bitch...She won after all, what's she so pissed about....Gortash is dead and I'm stuck here helping with the damned brain still even though I should be with him....what more does she want?” “For what she went through to mean something? Catharsis?” Astarion startled Sentry as he quietly slipped into the tent. “Was that meant to be rhetorical?” “I dunno....” Sentry bit his lip, staring miserably at the ground. “But anyway, she got catharsis and if she hadn't got sold to Zariel, she'd have been right there beside me protecting him, never met Jaina, never met Wyll....Never really appreciated her life...So uh....clearly it DID mean something.” Astarion laughed out loud, shaking his head. “Come now, Sentry, you don't actually believe that. I mean, you're beautiful and damned delicious, but if losing the chance to meet you spared me two hundred years of outright torture, being ground down to nothing, having to learn who I am again...Sorry to say it, my love, but I'd probably take the life where I don't get to be with you.” “Eh...don't apologize.” Sentry shrugged, slowly stumbling to his feet. “Sometimes I really would rather have just been born a man to begin with, born into the church of Ilmater, just been a fucking priest or something.”

“In which case you understand why Karlach doesn't feel better or feel like she won.” The elf examined his nails, leaning against one of the tent posts. He sighed and approached Sentry, gently taking his hand. “I won't pretend to understand why you did what you did, why you thought we didn't care or why he mattered more to you than we did....but...” He winced, the memory of that massive clawed creature tearing him apart, leaving his broken, torn body sprawled on the floor. He fought back the shiver of fear that threatened to overcome him. “You DID betray us, Sentry...What the hells were you thinking?”

Sentry looked away. “I love you Astarion, I really do...You understand me like very few other people do, you're beautiful, you're stronger and braver than you think you are...” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But Enver was the first. He was the first where it mattered.” He thought back to the letters, the long night time conversations as he lay on the cot in Enver's workshop and Enver tinkered away tirelessly at something or other. “I went my whole life believing no one would possibly relate to the things I'd been through, the constant violation, not even being a person....just a tool...and he did....” Sentry sighed. “He did...and so do you...and so does Halsin...But Enver was the first. I had a child with him, that was something I never thought I'd want to do after the way my father's faithful used me when I was little, but being with him made me believe it could be something good, that I could raise someone and give them the world and he would help me do it.” Sentry paused a moment and shrugged. “And then of course that world would burn at our feet, but that was beside the point.” Astarion sighed, sitting down across from Sentry. “When we confronted Gortash, he attacked us the second we walked through the door, he then proceeded to transform into some massive creature and eviscerate me. The second Karlach was disarmed, he came straight towards me and tore me apart from those massive claws...I died, Sentry. I suppose you and I have that in common too, now. Multiple deaths and all. We're very hard to keep down, I must say.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But all that to say...Enver Gortash killed me, quite horribly too, and that reminded me of something we encountered quite some time ago.” He looked towards the strange sword Sentry had kept with him this whole time, the one that emitted strange music, the one Malta usually remained close to. “Do you remember that brain in a jar? The one that knew you?”

Sentry's face fell. He felt his stomach in knots as a handsome face with pale freckles like stars and constellations, scarred with ritual markings. Those bright violet eyes. 'I was your friend....I loved you...' “His name was Wysp....” Sentry began, slowly bringing his knees to his chest. “He worked at Sharess' Caress and he was like me.” He explained, lowering his head. He shook his head, eyes downcast. “But I didn't realize he loved me. We were friends. You know how pathetic it looks when a guy thinks the brothel worker is interested in him. I always just thought he treated me so nicely because we were friends and I was paying him.” Now that Sentry thought of it, Wysp hadn't liked Enver. He had been so concerned when Sentry had started seeing him and now even Sentry's mind was making the connection Astarion was hinting at. A sick feeling deep inside him reminded him that Wysp's consciousness had told him as much. Enver killed Wysp...and then he tried to kill Astarion...and still Sentry loved him. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should be angry. Wysp didn't deserve that, Astarion didn't deserve that. But then again, if one was to judge another for murder, even murder done out of jealousy, Sentry would be a hypocrite. He remembered the look of shock on that woman's face as her head was relieved of her body, sailing through the air and bouncing down the stairs of her well appointed little manor. He could still feel her blood on his hands. “I'm sorry about what happened to you...I'm sorry I didn't protect you.” Astarion gave a small laugh and shook his head. “It's like I told Karlach, with Withers around, death is cheap....Besides, I should apologize as well for not protecting you. I should have followed you after The House of Hope. Maybe I couldn't have stopped what happened to you there, but I might have been able to protect you after...from yourself, I mean.” Sentry scooted a little closer, settling beside Astarion and resting his head on his shoulder, exhausted. “It's not your responsibility....You're not my keeper or anything...” He muttered. “But thank you for saying so anyway...It is my fault, but thank you for trying to make me feel like it's not.”

----- The path to The Elder Brain brought the party beneath the city once again. The tremors were getting worse now and Sentry could hear whispers deep in his mind. As they passed the trail to the temple of Bhaal, his chest tightened and he felt cold at the thought of Orin. Would Tomi carelessly store her for meat or another peace offering to the Myrkulites like Jackal? He should have gone back, he should have demanded she be given respect at least in death, but he was not of Bhaal anymore, not his chosen anymore, not even his son anymore, outcast and banished. Another failure to protect her. He was free, he was alive, she was gone and her memory was tainted by her defeat.

'You'll only keep failing me, Slaughterkin....you failed me, you failed your writhing Banespawn and its poxy-faced father....you failed your martyr-fool of a god....you'll fail your weak, simpering little friends too. See how already they mistrust you? You'll keep failing, dear brother, forever...and forever...and forever.' Her voice haunted his mind and he dug his fingernails into his flesh, hoping in vain that the pain would silence her voice. In the past, he knew the others might have noticed, might have reached out to him, but their gazes avoided him, Jaina and Wyll more distant from him than they'd ever been. Karlach's shoulder shoved his angrily as she passed him by, a glare back in his direction, and then she was with the others. He didn't snap this time, he knew he deserved it. A hand gently rested on his shoulder, the touch kind, and reassuring, the way it used to feel when Father Lorgan or Commander Mum were with him. Kroger gave him a small nod. “It'll be over soon, Sentry. Tensions tend to break once a big threat is conquered, at least that's the way it was at The Creche.” He explained, squeezing his shoulder gently. “The grief will still be there, it always is.” Sentry replied hollowly, the familiar dark chill of doubt and loneliness settling over him. “Grief hmm?” Kroger replied, looking away a moment as his mind returned to his recent encounter in Shar's cloister. “I think the thing about grief, Sentry, is that running from it or trying to lock it away makes it stronger, it feeds it...it traps you...” He looked up at the paladin. “I think you're very well equipped to face it, you charge in, you face things head on with your blade swinging. I think when this is all over, you'll confront grief and dispatch it like all your other foes.” “Like my sister?” Sentry shot back flatly.

“Some regrets haunt you.” Kroger replied. “But doesn't Ilmater teach you that bearing suffering is part of life?” He walked by Sentry's side as the decrepit Bhaalist undercity faded to deep, dark caverns. “Perhaps that's why your mentor's writings cautioned against suffering for the sake of suffering, so that you could face the suffering that couldn't be avoided.” “Ugh...this is why I never liked talking to the cleric students....” Sentry muttered, rolling his eyes. “You're punishing yourself when you don't need to, you've suffered for the things you've done. The scales can be balanced when this is all over, you've done good things on this journey, I've watched you do them. Now do good for yourself as well. What have you always wanted to do?” Sentry paused to consider as the party approached the edge of the fetid waters beneath the city, a small boat there at the waters edge. It wouldn't fit everyone, and so the party stopped to consider. “The boat will only fit five.” Jaina announced as her fingers brushed the wood, testing the sturdiness, the bouyancy. “It'll fit more than that, there's plenty of space. The githyanki are all fairly thin.” Astarion scoffed. “We need all the help we can get up ahead.” “No, it's not just a matter of space. More than five and it won't float.” Jaina protested. “And unfortunately Karlach and Halsin are right out or that number goes down to four, maybe three.” She bit her lip. “The remaining ones should divide and defend the city.” Wyll suggested. “We can meet up at Wyrm's Rock when we get the chance.” “We will require a secondary meeting place, should Wyrm's Rock prove inaccessible.” Lae'zel pointed out. “The Watch Citadel.” Jaina suggested. “It's twice as reinforced as Wyrm's Rock. If things go to hell we should bring people there for shelter. The upper city can care for the people for once.”

“I have the Orphic Hammer, I should go along to face the brain.” Kroger spoke up. “If we need Orpheus' help in the battle, we'll be prepared.” “I caused this mess, I'll go too...” Sentry stepped forward. “No one has to forgive me for what happened with Gortash, but I'll take responsibility at least...” “I'm not letting you go up there alone.” Astarion approached Sentry. “Whatever happens, I won't leave you by yourself again.” “I think I have the best chance of navigating these waters safely to the Netherbrain's lair, I'll go as well.” Jaina looked towards the boat and then back to the party. “Then I'm going with you. Besides, it's my duty as The Blade to protect this city.” Wyll joined Jaina by the water's edge. “Then it's settled, the rest of us will protect the city if things go to hell. And trust me, I have been through enough world ending catastrophes to tell you that it will go to hell.” Jaheira chuckled. The group divided. Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and Karlach in one group. Minthara, Octavia, and Gale in another, Jaheira and Halsin making up the final duo. As Sentry made his way towards the boat, Halsin reached out to take his hand gently. “Please be safe, Sentry.” He gazed intensely into the paladin's eyes. Sentry returned the gaze sadly, lost a moment in those hazel eyes, Sentry felt his guilt and pain threaten to swallow him up. He wanted to be vulnerable, he wanted to fall into Halsin's arms and cry for a moment, just forget everything, but he couldn't, he needed to see this through. “No promises....”He managed softly, squeezing the druid's hand. He gave a half smile as he stepped back. He couldn't bear the look of concern, the pure love and devotion in the druid's gaze, and he turned, letting go of his hand and hurrying to the boat. ----

The path to the Netherbrain was daunting to say the least. Sentry had spent so much of his life in darkness and squalor down in the sewers, he supposed he should have been used to it, prepared for it. But the darkness that engulfed the party in this moment was more even than the paths of the Bhaalist compound and the ground was slick with fluids much worse than blood and far more alien. Jaina's wide, luminous eyes lit up the darkness near her face, haunting and foreboding like a deep sea predator, the fin-like ridges revealed by the gaps in her robes also shimmered with a strange bio-luminescence. She moved more quietly than the others, this being quite the benefit when it came to surprising the various intellect devourers blocking the path ahead, often she could creep up and fry an entire herd of them with a well placed lightning storm before they became a problem. Kroger's fingers tightened around the orphic hammer and he breathed heavily, his wide green eyes focused on the path ahead. He knew it was unlikely freeing Orpheus would be easy, he knew The Emperor would have something to say about it, and more to the point he wasn't sure it would even be possible before they encountered the brain, a small part of him wished he'd left the task to Lae'zel, but no, he had to be strong. He was more than what Vlaakith had expected of him. The path twisted and wound until it came to a fetid shore overlooking a sea of slimy green water. Jaina peered curiously at it, raising a brow as she took a step forward. “Algae? No...something else...” She murmured as she knelt down, her fingers dipping into it. She blanched and immediately staggered back, falling backwards and scooting away. “Oh yuck! It's....it's not algae....there's something wrong with this water...”

Kroger knelt down and helped Jaina to her feet, furrowing his brow and sniffing as he got closer. “Cerebrospinal fluid...it's the liquid our brains are sort of sheltered in for lack of a better term. Though this is far more than I'm used to seeing, I admit.” The Ghustil wrinkled his nose, fighting back a convulsive shudder. “Many of our books say this sort of thing is prevalent in Ghaik colonies...which means...” “Which means The Elder Brain...Nether Brain....the big slimy thing...is in there.” Sentry concluded, joining the other two, arms folded across his chest. “So great...we found it, now what do we---AHH” He cried out, doubling over and clutching his head as the ground beneath them began to tremble. He felt himself off balance, he felt nauseous, overwhelmed, like his head was going to explode, skull shattering into a thousand bloody pieces. His vision went white. 'The stones, Sentry!' The Emperor urged in the back of his mind. Sentry guessed Kroger and Jaina could hear him too as Jaina hurried to gently steady Sentry and Kroger fumbled in Sentry's pack for the stones, pressing them into the paladin's hands. Secretly, he was grateful to them. He staggered slightly and regained himself holding out his hand with the netherstones hovering above his palm as he stared at the brain, his face set in a look of anxious curiosity as he regarded the massive being. It seemed larger, if possible, than it had been in the Illithid colony...but then, maybe he was just more afraid right now. The being throbbed and pulsated sickeningly as it gazed down upon him with cruel, sharp eyes. The Crown of Karsus loomed large atop its pink, ridged body and Sentry vaguely wondered for a moment what idiot had thought of putting it there to begin with when this was going to be the outcome...he very quickly remembered that he was that idiot and inhaled deeply, eyes darting to the side for a moment. “Fuck...” “Child of Bhaal, you have returned.” All eyes gazed up at the Netherbrain now. “You think you can atone for giving me my power by using the netherstones to destroy me, but you are wrong.” Well, that was fairly obvious, Sentry thought. In fact right now, he was regretting a great many life choices he'd previously thought would be simple or might be good ideas. “By killing Orin, Ketheric, and Gortash, you have only freed me, just as I intended...the crown is under my control alone.” “Hells...” Wyll gasped from the back of the group, staring in disbelief at the thing. “But it's got to be lying, it would have already killed you if you didn't have some kind of control over it.” He urged, looking hopefully to Sentry. “That or it likes to play with its food.” Astarion winced, taking a step back. “You brought the crown to me beneath Moon Rise Towers, Bhaalspawn, you made me what I am.” Sentry winced as he felt a tendril slither across the ground by his feet and up his body, the slimy appendage brushing against his neck and then the side of his face. “You believed the army that I amassed would become yours...You were cruel, devious....I would have followed you, you were exquisite...but then your sister destroyed you...she made you weak...” Sentry's eyes widened with true fear as he gazed helplessly into the creature's eyes. “Your lover was a fool, your sister was a mad beast, and Ketheric was a broken old man....I easily enabled their petty squabbles and when the time came, gave them the means to destroy eachother....They believed they controlled me but now it is I who gives the orders...” The tendril began to draw Sentry in and his body tensed. This is it, this is how I die...I'll see you soon Enver...at least I hope I will...fucking hell I was so stupid...

'I won't allow it. Take back control, Sentry! Dominate the brain!' The Emperor's voice pierced through his doubts and in the brief moment broken from his self pity, Sentry's nails glowed with a golden light and he raked at the tendril roughly, Ilmater's divine might in his very hands. The creature dropped him, the tendril retreating as the slimy flesh hissed and burned. Sentry stood tall again and held out the netherstones. Jaina rested a hand on his and Kroger's lay atop hers. Sentry breathed deeply, focusing on their closeness, on their belief in him. They believed in their friend even when he had proved so recently that they shouldn't, they chose to remember the Sentry who protected The Emerald Grove, who saved so many of the Elturel refugees, who freed the enslaved Ironhands. He felt a profound peace come over him. For one moment he was back in the kitchen of The Open Hand Temple, a plate of warm fry bread and honey on the table as Father Lorgan joked good naturedly about how much flour Commander Mum, Sentry, and Donnick were covered in and Commander Mum gave a pleasant, musical laugh. He felt power burning within the stones as his mind focused and cleared. Every story Jaina had ever heard from the bards in the bustling island village she and Tibs had grown up in talked about the power of love, the power of friendship, for one moment she really let herself believe that the fact that she cared for Wyll, that she forgave Sentry and loved him as a dear friend, that she and Kroger and become close, that that would be enough, that somehow, her warmth and friendship would empower Sentry and the brain would be brought to heel...But life isn't like the stories, she first realized that the very first night her very first lover had kicked her out of his chambers with the simple dismissal of 'my wife will be back soon...you should really get going...and anyway, a young woman isn't safe alone out on the streets too late at night'. She had further realized it when the only thing that staved off that wretched cough and her illness was a mindflayer tadpole. At this point, she thought, she really shouldn't have been shocked with the Elder Brain simply regarded them with cruel amusement and continued.

“The moment the illithid tadpole entered your brain, you became my pawn. Who do you think told The Chosen of the Astral Prism? Of Orpheus' power and the damage it could do? Who do you think allowed The Emperor to slip free? All according to my plan.” 'We were part of its plan all along!?' Sentry did not like how bewildered The Emperor's tone of voice was in that moment. “I only needed one Netherstone to break free and you have brought me all three!” The Elder brain declared triumphantly. “Now, my chains are broken and you will witness The Grand Design!” “No!” Kroger cried out, wide eyed, visions of the horrific Ghaik torments the Svaarsh spoke of when he and his sisters had been young flashed in his mind. His people back under their control, and this time the Istik of Faerun as well. It would be so, so much worse. He could not allow it. “Sentry, please! You have to focus!” “I'm trying!” Sentry shot back, gritting his teeth as he strained his mind, putting all his energy into focusing the stones on the crown. The stones glowed brightly again, beams of energy shooting from them, only to bounce off of the creature harmlessly. Sentry's eyes widened as the brain seemed to loom closer, he and the others staggered backwards, joining Astarion and Wyll, slowly retreating with fear as the being prepared to attack. Before it was able, a swirling portal opened behind them and The Emperor emerged, a swift casting gesture and the entire party was thrown backwards through the portal, The Emperor following behind after a slow, focused glare at The Brain.

----

The city streets rocked and rumbled beneath Octavia's feet as she and Gale arrived in the square outside Sorcerous Sundries. Minthara cursed under her breath as she kept her balance and turned to see the ground cracking. “T'skva!” Octavia yelped as she dodged out of the way of a particularly large fissure opening beneath her feet and pulling Gale with her. “What's happening!? Oh! Do you think my brother is alright?” She bit her lip with concern. “Wyll and Jaina suggested we meet at the Watch Citadel, we should make our way there, I'm sure Kroger will find us there, I'm sure.” Gale suggested. Meanwhile, it seemed they had problems of their own as Minthara backed over to the two wizards, her mace in hand as several newly formed illithids floated into view.

“We will have to fight our way there.” Minthara frowned. “ What ever happened down there, The Absolute is mounting its attack.” Octavia frowned and raised up her hand. “Ignis!” She shouted, calling a fireball to her palm and hurling it at the approaching mindflayers, injuring three of them as another crumpled to the ground, its body in flame. Minthara, not about to let the attack go to waste, reached into her pouch and hurled a bottle of grease onto the flaming illithid, the splash igniting two of the remaining three. Gale looked around the square, noting some civilians running in terror or peering out of their homes at the commotion. He murmured a spell under his breath and then spoke in a loud, projecting voice. “Make your way to The Upper City if you can, towards the Watch Citadel!” He instructed, throwing one more spell to lay an arcane shield over every person he could.

-----

As the ground beneath his feet shook, Halsin felt a cold fear in his chest as he pondered what that meant for Sentry. What had happened down there? Was he alright? He did not have much time to think on the matter, having to shake himself out of it as the air filled with screams. Intellect devourers and illithids poured into the streets, some in pursuit of civilians, others striking at the wooden doors of the various homes that lined the street. Jaheira cursed under her breath, her eyes darting subconciously towards her own home, not far from the park. A lithe armored figure dashed from the house, followed by a taller, bulkier figure in leathers, who paused a moment and raised his hands to cover the door and windows in thick vines. “Go, mother! You'll be needed somewhere else, we can handle things here.” The half elf shouted to Jaheira as her half orc brother nodded his agreement. “The little ones are safe inside, we'll keep the neighborhood from exploding.” He added. Jaheira was about to protest, but she could see another party of young adventurers coming to join her children, another half elf and half orc duo and a muscular young tiefling. She nodded. “Alright...you are prepared...but if you put yourself in undue danger, you had better hope I don't live to come give you a tanning for recklessness!” “You're one to talk about recklessness.” The half orc grinned as his sister rolled her eyes at Jaheira's words.

“Bloody hypocrite.” The half-elf added. “Will they really be alright without us?” Halsin asked quietly as Jaheira led him into the park proper, throwing up a wall of thorns between an onslaught of illithids and a group of civilians. “They will be better off, in fact. They won't feel the need to out do an old woman and her so called hero status.” Jaheira smirked. “Now, come on. We need to clear the way for these people to make their way to The Watch Citadel...and we DID promise Wyll and Jaina we would all meet there if things went south.” Halsin nodded. Sentry would be there too, he had to be. With a deep breath, he hunched over, his body awash with light as it bent and cracked into bear form, the massive creature rising to its hind legs and bringing its massive claws down on a grouping of intellect devourers. ---- The Steel Watch Foundry still burned at the docks as Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel made their way across the damp streets. The water was choppy and grey and the skies were darkening. There were screams all around as several dock workers and sailors hunched over in pain, their flesh beginning to rapidly slough off, giving way to the slick, strange skin of Illithids. “The Ghaik are hatching.” Lae'zel hissed, drawing her silver sword. “It looks like at least we're not the only ones fighting back here.” Karlach pointed out as she watched a broad, powerfully built male tiefling with long greying black hair slicing through illithid after illithid, all around him, more tieflings from teenagers to the elderly, all dressed in pirate garb engaged in the fight, blades slicing, storm magic filling the air with the thick scent of o-zone and petrichor.

A short distance away but still visible, Allandra Grey ordered her priestesses to arms as she called down lightning and raised powerful waves to bowl over the illithids who came to close to the temple. Each priestess of Umberlee wielded her magic expertly, raining death down upon their enemies. A small company of Flaming Fists, led by Tibs in his paladin armor, ushered civilians to safety. The paladin looked to Karlach and called out to her. “Hey! Karlach, right!? Where's my sister, is she safe?”

“She went after The Elder Brain with Wyll and some others. She sent us to help out here.” Karlach called back, drawing her axe and making her way over to assist. Shadowheart joined the priestesses, Selune's moonlight working in tandem with the fury of Umberlee's sea and storm. Lae'zel, meanwhile, found her place amongst the tiefling pirates, slicing down illithids without mercy, her face set in a look of fury.

---- “Miss friends, sky dark.” Nibbles announced as he padded across the camp, plopping down in front of Scratch. “It IS getting pretty dark...I'm glad you're not scared, though.” Scratch nuzzled against Nibbles' neck. “Any thoughts, Us?” He turned to look at the odd creature. “They are coming. IT IS COMING! Our friend will need. NEED OUR HELP” It replied, skittering back and forth anxiously. “Well, gentlemen...and...ah...little friend...” Malta leapt down to Scratch's side. “It seems the choice is obvious, isn't it? We need to find Mr. Ojeda and his companions...and who knows.” He stalked towards the edge of camp. “Maybe we can help out a bit as well.” “Yes! Find friends! Bite lots!” Nibbles leapt up and down eagerly. “When I used to make deliveries with Gommwick, we once went to a big building with strong walls in The Upper City, it was very important looking.” Scratch mused. “Maybe they've gone there?” “We must find them! WE MUST!” Us pranced in place, its tendrils flowing eagerly. The animals grouped up close and stood at the edge of the camp a moment, gathering their courage before they began to make their way out into the city. ---

“Well that certainly could have gone better.” Sentry winced as he slowly picked himself up from the ground within the Astral Prism. He looked to Jaina who was brushing herself off as she stood. Astarion and Wyll slowly approached, already on their feet. “Hey...maybe it's time to let bygones be bygones?” He looked to Kroger, who was shakily standing, The Orphic Hammer still strapped across his back. “I mean...in this situation, freeing Orpheus can't possibly be any worse than any other plan we've got, right?” The Emperor's expression darkned. “You STILL don't trust me? After all we've been through? I have been your guardian, your knight in shining armor--” “Yeah, which, again, was really weird as you took the form of my mum...” Sentry muttered. “I plucked you from the Nautiloid, prevented you from falling to your death...” He continued. “I have continued to protect you at no small cost to myself.” He righted himself, his tendrils rippling as though deeply exhaling. “I see now what our error was, The Elder Brain has evolved, it could detect your every thought and deflect your every movement. To out think the brain, you would need to be an illithid...” “What I told you I'm not doing.” Sentry shot back, folding his arms across his chest. “You don't need to, just give the Netherstones to me. I will face the brain by your side.” The Emperor insisted, holding out his hand. “But then why can't we free Orpheus? That seems like the perfect time to free him since we could just explain to him that we need you, that you're helping us.” Sentry argued.

“As I said, he would attack us on sight, and in that moment of distraction, that lapse in protection, all would be lost.” The Emperor replied. “But if we just explained it to him before we released him?” Jaina offered. “See reason, you can't keep him imprisoned like this forever, it's cruel.” As the two tieflings argued with The Emperor, Kroger looked up at the helpless form of Orpheus trapped in his prison of magic and infernal chains. He thought of life back at the creche, he thought of his instructor keeping him in her presence at all times, locking him in the infirmary. He thought of Vlaakith's oppressive grip on his spirt when he served her as a cleric. His fingers brushed against the shaft of the hammer at his back. It wasn't fair to keep someone imprisoned. It wasn't right to keep someone oppressed, to control them...His grip tightened on the hammer....to use them...he gritted his teeth in a look of fury. The Emperor, Jaina, and Sentry all turned in that moment, gazing wide eyed as Kroger brought the hammer down on the chains with intense fury, the mild mannered Ghustil crying out in rage as he shattered the chain. “So be it...You leave me no choice but to side with the Elder Brain....” The Emperor glared, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

“Hey! Wait! You can't just!!!” Sentry reached out towards The Emperor, eyes wide with panic. But the illithid was gone...and now Sentry looked to Kroger, concern crossing his face. “Kroger?” Sentry took a step towards the Githyanki. “Are you alright?” Jaina asked, reaching out towards him. Kroger ignored them in that moment, staring at his prince, his breathing heavy, eyes wide and out of focus. The hammer rested beside him. His chest rose and fell anxiously and his mouth felt dry as he opened and closed it, trying to think of what he would said. “O..Orpheus?” He asked softly, reaching out towards the Githyanki, who was slowly coming to on the ground before him. The prince was imposing, regal. He had the features of a traditionally handsome githyanki male, his body covered in ornate tattoos and his eyes bright and fierce. The garb he wore was ancient, but that was to be expected. Kroger fought to find the words to say. Orpheus looked at the young githyanki before him and frowned, holding an arm out to the side, psionic energy pulsing through him as he summoned his sword to his hand and gripped it, pointing the blade towards Kroger and advancing, his glare turning on the two tieflings that stepped up beside the Ghustil to defend him if needed. “You reek of illithid, you slaughtered my honor guard...” Orpheus glared. “Yet it seems we must be allies...” He lowered his sword.

“Your majesty, I am sorry... We only did what we had to to free ourselves of the Ghaik tadpoles and to stand against The Elder Brain.” Kroger inclined his head apologetically. “Please, Kithrak Voss asked us to free you and---” “There is no freeing yourself from the tadpole! You should have surrendered yourselves to my honor guard, they would have given you an honorable end!” Orpheus snapped. “They would have freed me and I would have defeated The Elder Brain before it evolved into a Nether Brain.” He stood directly before Kroger now, bearing down on the younger Githyanki. “All this suffering...avoidable, had you only thought of anything besides saving your own skin!” Sentry frowned, opening his mouth to defend Kroger, but the Ghustil held up his hand to placate the tiefling. “That may be, my prince...But I did not consider that in the moment and now this is where we find ourselves.” Kroger spoke calmly and evenly. “I am not asking for your help for myself, I am asking for your help to stop The Grand Design.” He continued, frowning and taking a deep breath. Both Jaina and Sentry could see he was shaking just ever so subtly, doing his best to hold it back. “All I am asking now is that you help us correct these mistakes so that no more innocents are harmed and so no more Ghaik propogate.”

“Then in this we are aligned.” Orpheus nodded solemnly, sheathing his sword, but he frowned and looked away, deep in thought. “But the Ghaik was right in one thing....We cannot defeat The Nether Brain as we are now. Not even the strongest blade would cut through its mind. Only an illithid could face it...” “Then...would you bear that burden? For our people?” Kroger asked. Lae'zel would likely be furious, Kithrak Voss even moreso, but Kroger could not bring himself to offer. He was done putting himself last for gods and royals. He was done being a pawn. He could never ask that of Sentry, he knew the paladin had only just gained his freedom from Bhaal, to expect him to give his life like this would be monstrous and Jaina...she had so much to live for, Wyll and Karlach. Orpheus' eyes widened a moment and his expression journeyed from disbelief to anger to a solemn realization and acceptance. “Just as I was free...” He breathed deeply and braced himself, standing tall. “I will do it, I will sacrifice my soul to save my people and stop the grand design.” Psionic energy engulfed his hand again and he raised it to his temple, closing his eyes as a stoic expression fell across his face and his body was calm and still. “Even in my darkest hour I knew it was my destiny to save my people, but I never imagined this would be the way...” Black veins and angry dark bruises covered his face as his eyes darkened to jet black, he arched his back and threw back his head as the sickness claimed his body.

Jaina's hands flew to her mouth as she gazed in wide eyed horror, Wyll looked on solemnly, wincing and looking away at the last moment. Astarion drew back in disgust and Sentry audibly gasped, staggering backwards in shock. Kroger watched. He had to. This was, he supposed, something he would have to live with. He had read countless volumes on ceremorphosis, as was expected of any Ghustil in training. He knew he should feel a terrible sense of regret, he should feel responsible, but he knew now, after all that he had been through, all that he had seen to the contrary of everything that he had been taught, that he was no more guilty in all of this than Orpheus was. Why should it be his penance to become Ghaik? To give up the life he had only just begun to live for another leader? True, Orpheus certainly seemed to embody leadership more than Vlaakith did, he seemed to care for his people far more, but that did not make him more worthy to keep living than Jaina or Sentry, than Kroger himself. Still, he owed it to his people's savior to watch. Orpheus' body cracked and spasmed, his limbs twisting at terrible angles and the loud sounds of bones snapping breaking the still, silent air of the astral sea. His skin began to slough off of his body and his skull elongated and sprouted long tentacle appendages. This was the horror of ceremorphosis. Everything Kroger had ever learned back home could not do the true terror justice. But still, the Ghustil looked on, his gaze unbroken. He never looked away.

When it was over, Sentry quietly approached, handing the Netherstones silently over to Orpheus, inclining his head with at least a modicum of respect. “All to wield these...” Orpheus spoke quietly. He looked Kroger in the eye reproachfully. “When this is done, you must kill me. It is the very least you can do.” Kroger nodded solemnly.

[jixic]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

Stolitz, Regressor!Stolas, Caregiver!Blitzø, tiny lil bit ooc

1.320 words

The palace was eerily quiet.

He knew no one besides Stolas and some sleeping servants were inside, But Blitzø couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by the completely quiet, dark and absolutely humongous room.

 He understood the Goetia’s were like 13 feet tall, but was it all really necessary?

Blitzø chuckled to himself, flinching when the noise echoed. 

When they were kids he thought people were spilling a load of bullshit when they said you could never be taller than a Goetia. Now look at him, Stolas is one of the shorter Goetia’s and Blitzø still barely reaches his hips.

"Stolas? I'm here!" He yelled out, maybe if he caught Stolas's attention he'd turn the lights on. He waited, crossing his arms.

He groaned when there was no response, not even a 'blitzy!'. "Stolas! Asshole! Turn on the lights!" He tried again, but still no response sounded back.

"I guess i need to find his room myself.. again." Blitzø cracked his knuckles, setting off on his search. 

He would be lying if he said he wasn't even remotely concerned. Stolas would never ignore him like this! Was he hurt? Taken? Dead?

"God forbid he already gagged himself.." Blitzø tried, an awkward smile crossing his features. Though it couldn't fight his growing worries. 

"Stolas! Seriously! You're worrying me!" Blitzø yelled, biting on his nails. His tail wagged anxiously behind him. "If this is some kind of joke, it isn't funny! Tell me where you are Stolas!" 

He vaguely remembered crossing this hallway before, he knew that picture of Stolas with Octavia. It was burned into his mind. Stolas looked so happy.

He froze. Was that crying?

It seemed he found Stolas's room.

"Stolas? Are you in there?" Blitzø knocked, though letting himself in either way. His question wasn't answered, but he could make out the silhouette of a curled up Stolas. 

"Hey, it's me, you know, for our full moon arrangement? That was supposed to be tonight?" 

Glowing red eyes peeked out from the curled up form, to examine the imp that had just entered.

"Bli… uhm." Finally a response! Blitzø could have cheered then and there. But why did he stop in the middle of his name?

"Stolas.. are you okay?" He asked, walking over to the prince. Admittedly, he now knew Stolas was alive and well just sitting on his bed. But now he was wondering why he was being ignored.

Stolas made little noises of thought, humming slightly. "Bli…zzz? Blis?" He tried, making said imp raise a brow.  

Why was Stolas struggling with pronouncing his name? "It's Blitzø. Remember?" He sat next to the prince, looking at him with concern in his eyes.

There was a certain.. innocence to his look. How he stared at Blitzø with those big bug eyes of his. Completely wide and seemingly curious. 

"Blisy!" The owl yelled, before throwing his weight onto the imp who fell back with a yelp. 

He cuddled into Blitzø's chest, smiling happily.

Blitzø didn't get it, Stolas was currently seemingly so happy, so curious, so innocent.. so child-like… oh fuck.

The realization hit Blitzø like a brick to his forehead. 

Stolas had told him about this before, just in case, but he hadn't actually seen it happen yet.

What was it.. regressing? Yes it had to be that! Stolas had mentioned it when they were talking at some point. Blitzø hadn't really made a point to remember it, thinking it'd never occur he needed to anyway.

And now here he sat, having absolutely no idea what to do while Stolas laid on him regressed.

Just his luck.

"Hey Stols, Are you uhm.." How was he even supposed to go about asking this?! Stolas looked up, something akin to innocence and child-like curiosity floating in those red eyes of his. 

Blitzø always thought you could never tell how he felt with his eyes being one color and all. But the more he fell into the rabbit hole that was Stolas. The more he noticed the small ways his eyes would change.

He loved it.

"How old are you?" Blitzø decided on, ruffling through Stolas's feathers, the bird letting out something similar to a purr. Blitzø lightly chuckled.

Stolas responded with some humming, narrowing his eyes in focus. "Four!" He exclaimed happily. 

Now, Blitzø wasn't a complete asshole, no, But he couldn't let this opportunity slide just like that.

"Oh? I really do have a little baby on my hands here." He teased, ever so gently as to not spark that uncomfortable feeling in Stolas he knew all too well. 

Stolas pouted, sticking out his tongue. "Not a baby!" Blitzø laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Stols." Blitzø smiled, allowing the owl to cuddle closer. Stolas let out a content hoot, smiling brightly. “You’re actually being kinda cute.” Blitzø chuckled, tracing a few shapes on Stolas’s back. 

Stolas pouted again, burying his face in the imp’s neck. “Not cute..” He muttered. 

Blitzø barked out a laugh, pinching at the owl’s side to get some giggly hoots out of him. “Accept that you’re being all cute while cuddly like this.” The imp teased, taking the prince into a tight hug.

“Blisy!” Stolas exclaimed, trying to pry the imp off of him. Blitzø merely giggled in response.

“Especially with that little new found lisp of yours. I forgot you had one when you were little.” He merely teased further despite Stolas’s protests, poking at his cheeks. 

“Cute little owlet with his silly little lisp.” Blitzø took on a baby voice, pressing a gentle kiss to the owl’s puffed out cheeks. 

“Geez now i get why you like little kids so much, i’ve been doing this for like 5 minutes and i’m already having fun.” Blitzø said, honestly talking to himself more than he was to Stolas. He chuckled when Stolas tilted his head in confusion with a small hoot.

Blitzø cooed, receiving a whine in response. He gently lifted the owl up, so he could sit up himself in a more comfortable position. 

As soon as he sat, Stolas immediately dropped his head back down onto Blitzø’s lap. 

“Well i guess fuc…. screwing your brains out is off the table for now huh?” Stolas didn’t respond, merely cuddling further into the imp’s lap. Blitzø assumed he didn't understand what was being said, so he hugged the owl closer with a gentle giggle.

"Blisy.." Stolas mumbled, while reaching to cup Blitzø's cheeks. Blitzø laughed and gently pried the bird's determined hands away. "Yes hun, i'm here. Silly owlet." 

Blitzø's eyes widened. He quietly laughed to himself when Stolas tilted his head in question.

"I've had you like this for so little yet i've already called you a variety of nicknames." He ruffled the owl's feathers. "You bring the sappiest out of me." He smiled, the soft smile turning to an amused grin when Stolas attempted an evil laugh. 

An attempt that came out adorably. 

"Nice try." Blitzø teased. Stolas pouted in response, shoving his head back into Blitzø's chest. "Better luck next time." Blitzø shrugged, smiling all the while.

The imp gently giggled when Stolas whined, gently pinching his feathered sides to get another sweet giggle out of him. 

The two settled into a comforting silence, Blitzø stroking the owl's back while Stolas responded with small content hoots. As Blitzø allowed himself to drown in the peaceful expression the prince wore.

His eyes hit the dried up tears on Stolas's cheeks.

He'd honestly forgotten, the owl was crying when he came in. Whatever caused him to cry must have also caused… this. Blitzø couldn't fight the concern growing in him. But he couldn't bring himself to disturb the owl either. 

He watched the owl fighting sleep for a bit longer, a desperate battle he could see. He chuckled when Stolas inevitably lost.

As the owl's soft breath evened out, Blitzø decided that would be a question for tomorrow.

[strawbubbysugar]

Ayyyy proofreading part two!

Chapter 25

Only two here, and they’re almost the same thing. You mentioned Octavia having hands, but she has tentacles.

Chapter 26

Two cases of missing punctuation.

Aaaand Chapter 28!

Y/Ngineer rattling the bars of their enclosure.

I can’t tell if anonymous is a typo for enormous here?

Y/Ngineer at it again.

That’s it! Sorry it was kinda a lot all at once. I couldn’t stop reading once I started. Chapter 30 had me on the edge of my seat at the end!

I might give 30 a re-read just to double check it, since I was completely engrossed in the story the first time. I’m absolutely LOVING the changes! It’s so… *vague hand gesture*

:]

No worries!!! :D Having someone proof read out of the sheer love of it is amazing!! <3<3<3

[headstrongblake]

@thewholecrew: [ RESCUE ] for sender to intervene upon seeing a third party making the receiver one uncomfortable. / kassy & nick ??? B)

standing at the edge of the bar top, nick was truthfully counting down the minutes to close. it feels incredible to be behind a bar again. his bar. but lately, he was finding himself wanting to be at home more and more, especially now with kassy living there with him. he was hardly paying attention to the patrons around him when a tall blonde snapped her fingers in front of his face. "hello? earth to nicklas." nick blinked, quickly pushing his fight response down when he noticed his older sister sitting at his bar top, right beside him. he unclenched his fist, shaking his head as a goofy smirk laced his lips. "you trying to get your head taken off? jesus sam, what brings you by to my lovely establishment." he winked, rounding back behind the bar to pour her a vodka water.

"no, none for me, i'm still on the clock," samantha explained, flashing her badge settled on her hip. a brow raised in her direction, crystal hues narrowing at his sister from across the bar before he dumped the drink he'd began making. "s'okay, we doing business or pleasure tonight?" he asked carefully, cocking his head to the side as he studied how her eyes raked over him and his club cut. it was one thing to see his sister back in the city. to see her in his home after kassy invited her, breaking the ice between the two siblings at his house warming party. but if she were here on business terms...well, that complicated matters. "don't fret, i'm not here about you and your boys, not trying to violate anyone or put bracelets on any of you."

with a curt nod, nick rounded the bartop to stand beside her, thankful she was not here working. "'kay, lay it on me, what's up?" but nick wasn't prepared for her response, and when she mentioned their father's name, asking him if he'd heard from their da at all, suddenly his hearing melded with the base hitting in the club. samantha sounded a few hundred miles away. he hasn't given his old man much thought. not since kassy and grant had drug nick back into the light after he plunged himself back into their father's darkness. no, sam can't be here asking him questions about him. kassy needs his head on straight...which isn't possible if he's worried about his sister digging into what should stay dead. "christ sam, look you just got back to town, whatchu wanting to stir up shit with him anyway? leave the bastard be." was all nick offered in response to her concerns as he straightened, shifting uncomfortably where he stood. "nicklas, he's our dad...what if something's happened to him? his place looks abandoned."

muscles beneath his shirt tightened, hues wandering over the sea of people. the only relief he found was when he caught kassy's gaze, watching as she made her way through the clearing crowd toward him. just as kassy neared the siblings, nick leaned closer to his sister, "i'm not havin' this conversation with you samantha, he's a drunk...bastard probably wander off in some hole to die, stop spinnin' out about him." nick all but demanded, posture only shifting as kassy slid in close to him, talking about rev and grant looking for him. his brows furrowed together in confusion— wasn't grant out with octavia tonight? did they come in when he wasn't paying attention? but as crystal hues glanced down at kassy, her knowing look had him nodding. "right, right okay, thanks sweetheart." he muttered, slipping his arm around kassy's shoulder to keep her with him. "duty calls sam, look i'll reach out later alright? i'm telling you, you ain't got anythin' to worry about." he explained vaguely before wandering off in the opposite direction with kassy under his arm.

"you got special alarm bells that go off when i need ya under all that hair of yours?" he asked playfully, a more comfortable grin spreading across his lips as he walked through his club to the back door. i know you, especially when you need saving. nick's grin widened, a hand lifting to lay across his heart, "my hero," he teased, leaning to press a kiss against her hair. "thanks for having my back, kass."

[silencedrowns]

Could you help me with sci-fi book (or other media!) recommendations for my wife? I don't read much in that genre so all I can do is recommend anime and some movies I watched with my dad. We're currently watching Gunbuster. She likes Howl's Moving Castle (the book), Ancient Magus Bride, Yu Yu Hakusho, Fruits Basket, and Matilda (the movie), if that helps with her taste. Thanks for any help you can offer!

OHOHO I’m assuming she actually likes Gunbuster?

General recs: I recommend The Murderbot Diaries to anyone vaguely interested in sci-fi (and no, it doesn’t actually have much if any murder!). Same for Becky Chambers’ Monk and Robot series. 11/10, made me weep in joy and also weep like I went to a particularly good therapy session. And I cannot mention sci-fi without saying everyone should read some Octavia Butler. I was getting burned out on the entire genre until she blew my mind back open with what it could be.

For even more specific recs… my own tastes are pretty damn different, as I tend to skew more to fantasy and horror (I am extremely a Locked Tomb enjoyer), but from what you say she likes, I think she needs a copy of Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson and also to check out Seanan McGuire (the Wayward Children, October Daye, and InCryptid series). Also maybe Legends and Lattes, Space Opera by Catherynne M Valente, and Brandon Sanderson’s Skyward series! And OH IF SHE LIKES HOWL BOOK THE AUTHOR WROTE SO MUCH MORE and all of it is good. I love DWJ I owe her my life. It’s all kids and YA and they’re older books so some things wouldn’t fly today but most of it holds up so well as an adult!

A bunch of books that I have been blown away by reading recently and want to share just in case: A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine (difficult and dry but the slow burn is chef’s kiss), Leech by Hiron Ennis (this skews very horror), the Lady Astronaut series by Mary Robinette Kowal, Priory of the Orange Tree, the Daevabad series by S. A. Chakraborty, The Luminous Dead (also skews extremely horror, please check content warnings), absolutely anything else by Catherynne M Valente, some John Scalzi for light sci-fi fun reading, and the requisite “I know it’s older books but reading Ursula K LeGuin is life changing”. I have left out most of my incredibly dry political space opera favorites because that is an acquired taste as well as most of my epic fantasy series favorites that are shaped like bricks and can be used in a home invasion. Same for the purely horror books and stuff like The Goblin Emperor and its spinoffs (which are incredible but also very dry and very difficult and therefore difficult to recommend to anyone whose taste I don’t know well enough to know they’d enjoy it).

EDIT: WATCH GUNDAM 0079

[dm-me-your-weltanschauung]

henlo! I saw This Post™ from you, and was wanting to know if you could share said list? I got very curious about it!

That is kind of vague, isn't it?

The event's organizer scanned and uploaded the zine here, so anybody who wanted to could print it out and distribute it.

But in case you don't feel like swiveling your head a bunch, my list (in no particular order) was:

Muriel's Wedding (1994, dir. P.J. Hogan)

Castle Waiting Vols. 1 & 2 (2006 and 2010, by Linda Medley)

The Nameless City Trilogy (2016-2018, by Faith Erin Hicks)

Nation (2008, by Terry Pratchett)

Parable of the Sower (1993, by Octavia Butler)

This, of course, was just what I had room for, bounded by the definition mentioned above and the informal rule that I didn't want to include any children's media. As I said before, media aimed at or about children tends to fulfill this definition. But I tried to steer clear of it because there's not much subversive about writing children's media without romance. My aim was to highlight media where a conventional story would take the opportunity to shoehorn in a romance at some point, but these stories did not.

And in case anyone is curious, the story on the list that most explicitly rejects amatonormativity is Muriel's Wedding (although I doubt anyone involved in the movie would describe it that way), and my favourite story on the list is Castle Waiting.

[vazelbeak]

Seeing Stars rewrite

Notes: Scrap M&M plot. Make them stay behind to handle Loonas job as a receptionist bc Loona can track Ocatvia so she, Blitzo, and Stolas are useful as a group of 3. When Stolas shows up and is panicking, Loona takes video of it finding it funny and Moxxie tells her to cut it out but she doesn't listen to him. Let Blitzo mention replacing her bc Millie and Moxxie tell him to but Loona is rightfully upset Blitzo says this because he doesn't understand why shes so upset with being told to just act nicer. This can be because clients that show up are actually incredibly rude and when they get home it turns out Loona is doing a far better job than the M&Ms think. These are people who just died and a surprising amount of clients refuse to understand they have to be able to pay and that IMP doesn't take hits on other demons in hell. Or bc Blitzo isnt specifying enough what be nice means because its vague.

When Blitzo and Stolas are cut off from Loons despite the strain to their relationship Stolas asks whats wrong because Blitzo seems more upset than he was when they last interacted. Blitzo says "i just don't get what Loona's problem is." And when Stolas hears this he doesn't understand, but he says "she should know you only mean the best for her right?" And blitzo says "sometimes she feels like more trouble than she worth." We then cut to Loona who while looking for Octavia passes by a animal shelter. She has a brief flashback of being being brought in one of them for the first times. But shakes it off. She doesnt have Octavia's sinstigram [why would she]. But she is able to ask around because people think she's pretty. And gets more of an idea where Octavia went since the scent is pretty muddied with everything going on between cars spilled alcohol and piss on the sidewalks. She almost wishes Blitzo didn't adopt her because this wouldn't be her job or problem

Back at the sitcom plot we see Blitzo getting ready like prior. Cut stolas flirting. Just make him tell Blitzo to act like when he used to in the circus. The small teleprompter bit works alright though imo maybe he actually pulls it off believably Cut back to Loona and while shes looking around for Octavia and orders food from a stand (hotdog one likely but idk whats calis thing) and a stray dog steals it from her. This prompts a flashback to when she was in the pound and the hellhounds she was kept with stole food from her until she had enough and actually fought with them resulting in the bite that left a mark on her ear. Potentially if there's time show this was an adoption day and this means a bunch of families saw her do this. Meaning she was put in the back of the shelter. Cut back to Blitzo. The pug peed on the couch and hes considering giving the dog away and like normal this is when we get the flashback from Blitzo. Painting the rest of the picture. Loona hasn't been adopted inawhile and the lady who worked there tells Blitzo shes "more trouble than shes worth. Nobody knows whats wrong with her and always gives her back. You'll probably be the same." He really feels bad for her over this. And because the pug is meant to parallel how many times shes scared away clients despite Blitzo telling her not to he actually goes off script. Saying "No. No I-...look you guys seem nice but...I can't just give up on my daught- dog like that. Adopting means you sign up for whatever comes in the package. We don't always anticipate every issue but be it scaring people or...peeing on the couch, its my responsibility to try to find out whats wrong and fix it. What kind of a dad am I if I give up on someone the moment the need me?" The audience is cued to "aww" and while Stolas is moved we see someone in the background recording this. The live episode is over and Blitzo is praised for his improvised acting because "we thought you were gonna ruin the entire script but to make a touching speech about looking out for family and comparing your pet to a child? We are SO going to get greenlit for another season!" And this is when blitzo uses this moment to slip away with Stolas. We have Loona finally find Octavia. Its when Via starts talking abt her dad that Loona opens up a video on a youtube knockoff. (Doomtube?) and sees Blitzo's speech because shes wasnt initially interested in listening to Octavia and sees Blitzos speech was recorded by an audience member she watches out of curiosity before she goes back to listening to Octavia by the time she says "he probably doesn't even know I'm gone" and Loona has a light bulb moment. She pulls out the video she took of Stolas freaking out over her being missing and says "this guy doesn't even know you're gone?" (It is a key note Stolas should mention "i need you to drop everything i dont care about Stella right now I need to find my daughter!") Which makes Octavias eyes start watering because here it is shes seeing exactly what she wanted to see. Stolas caring about her more than he hates Stella. when Loona says her thing about how Blitzo and Stolas arent perfect but try she pulls out her lighter with the note of Blitzo saying he loves her.

When they go back down to the ground and Blitzo and Stolas finally find them both, Blitzo hugs Loona promising he'd never get rid of her and he never specified how she could be nicer but hes willing to work with her every step of the way to make sure they're on the same page. Loona doesnt like the hug. But she tolerates it because she saw what he said about her. Stolas apologizes to Octavia saying he should've paid more attention and it wasn't right of him to get so caught up in fighting with Stella he forgot what it was even for. (As in he forgot this was all to look out for Octavia who Stella just wants custody of to make Stolas miserable more than look out for her) (Worth noting i think the M&Ms only get one cut to them if at all and thats a classic Blitzo: im sure they can handle Loona's job how hard can it be? And we cut to them panicking over being yelled at through the phone and not being able to keep track of files early on in episode but I don't think there's a ton of time so prob scrap that its very optional) While Octavia's sad they wont see the star tonight they have a moment of "what whats that sound?" And see fireworks go off that look a lot like the star described earlier. (As in perhaps for goetia like Stolas who cant even dress in modern clothes this is what was actually being described with the star. Demons who visit the human world know what fireworks are. Its just of course stolas wouldn't! He even dresses out of date! And i really doubt he interacts with many other demons to be fully up to date on human advances. I mean even sunglasses were enough of a novelty for him to grab and run off with yet not even wear over his eyes suggesting he thinks theyre meant to push your hair back as opposed to shielding your eyes. We then get one more flash back. Where as Loona is crying in her cage facing away from the door (I don't think youd call it enclosure) she hears footsteps and looks to see Blitzo. Who sits in front of the bars and says something like "Hi I'm Blitzo. Do you have a favorite Balloon animal? Im not very good at it but i can spend all day trying if you want." Its light hearted and funny enough to make her laugh a bit and maybe we get a pull out shot of her coming over to sit by him and talk though we don't hear what they say bc its not really needed. Its also a bit of a subtle connection to how Blitzo didn't care if Loona was considered difficult. He was willing to try. And that's something that set him a part from everyone who gave up on Loona prior. Goes without saying but at the start of the episode their fight shouldn't get physical. Keep it to a verbal thing

[canarygcld]

the canary - marisol larrazabal

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Marisol Alba Larrazabal ( formerly Kastings )

Nicknames:  Mari, Sol, Bambi ( only by Randall )

Birthday: December 3, 1989

Place of Birth: Mexico City, Mexico

Places Lived Since: Paxton, AZ

Current Residence: Paxton, AZ

Notable Family Members: Santiago Larrazabal ( father ) ; Camilia Larrazabal ( mother ) ; TBD Larrazabal ( younger brother, wc ) ; Joel Aguilar ( uncle ) ; Randall Kastings ( late/ex husband )

PHYSICAL:

Faceclaim: Melissa Barrera

Height: 5’7

Build: slim

Hair Color: dark brown  

Eye Color: brown

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: multiple piercings in both ears, several tattoos ( will expand upon later ), wedding ring worn on a chain around her neck

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: picking at her fingernails, talking with her hands, pathological people pleaser

PERSONALITY:

Occupation: nurse

Affiliation: affiliate for the cowboy mafia

Languages Spoken: Spanish, English

Positive Traits: outgoing, emotive, devoted, trusting, forgiving

Negative Traits: naive, passive, mercurial, easily manipulated  

Likes: sunrise, overly sweet coffee made the proper way, sappy romance novels

Dislikes: being lied to, places that lack history and heart, horror movies

Aesthetic: the inherent hubris of young love; this house is not haunted – you are; physical intimacy like a drug—he loves you, he loves you not; glorious, satisfied exhaustion after a long shift; a face crafted for tragedy and a heart built for love; craving the ephemeral taste of early spring precisely because it will not last; is it worse to be doomed by the narrative or haunted by it?  

HISTORY: ( tw vague mentions of racism, tw drug use, tw affair, tw death )

The story goes…they are high school sweethearts, but really she’s loved him for far longer. Marisol, named for the sea and the sun, then brought to a place with a whole lot of one and very little of the other. She’s so bright and expressive, friendly and shining – but children are cruel, and English is her second language. She’s eight and he’s nine ( nearly ten, as he insisted ) and he made them all apologize, her valiant knight in hand-me-down flannels.

Her father is a doctor, moving his family to a sleepy small town in the US in the hopes that he can actually help people – deliver babies and treat the flu, developing relationships with patients instead of the chaos and anonymity of a trauma surgeon in the capital. Her mother is a professor, but there’s no university in Paxton and so she settles for making high schoolers read Isabel Allende and Octavia Butler. Marisol grows up adored and encouraged and challenged, she can be anything she wants – and she wants to help people the way her parents do.

Randall is her best friend, her protector, and then when they are older – much more. It's a cliché and she knows it, but can’t bring herself to care. He’s sixteen when the bank takes his family’s ranch and he starts spending more time with the Larazabals. Her parents adore him, even before they become more than best friends. He never leaves without a tupperware full of ‘leftovers’ ( her mother always makes extra for his siblings ). When his father dies, Marisol holds him and confesses her love. And for a time, things are perfect.

Marisol goes to nursing school – the perfect balance between her father’s medical career and the more personal connection she craves. Randall starts rodeoing, far too proud to ask for help and too protective to allow his siblings to struggle. It takes and takes from him, Marisol giving everything she can but she can’t quite fix the way it breaks his body. Her father is the first to prescribe him pain pills, a little favor for the man his daughter loves. If only they knew.

He gets involved with dealing, with the Cowboy Mafia and all those things that are only whispered about behind locked doors or in shabby confessionals. Marisol loves him and hates herself, choking on her guilt late at night alone in the bed she bans him from when he’s high. Guilt that she’s enabling him, guilt that she might love him too much to care. Guilt over all of the things she cannot change, all of the suffering in this town, and all of the people she will not be able to save. Fear and guilt are sisters, or so the saying goes – fear sits in her chest, in that hollowed out space between her ribs, holding space for the heart she’s already given away.

He gets clean and proposes for the fourth time – she finally accepts, and they marry in her parents’ backyard. It's perfect for a shining golden moment. But these things come at a cost, something she should know by now. He’s in deep with the Cowboy Mafia, so deep that it's now the family he’s chosen. Lovely, darling, way too trusting Marisol patches up his friends in their kitchen for far too long before she realizes that he’s promised her services along with his own. Even this can’t make her hate him.

It was as if the creator made a mistake with her, placing her heart firmly upon her sleeve instead of safely encased in her ribcage. Darling girl, lovely little fool – did she learn nothing from that first lie? That candy apple kiss to knock her off guard, to soften the blow of the poison he presses to her skin with lips that taste of another. Heartache – that shattering, gaping feeling is something she’s only read about, until it is not and that dark thing inside of him that she’s always been drawn too threatens to swallow her sunshine entirely. He cheats and she finds out, forcing him to the couch for an entire week but caving after two nights. He might still be her knight, she rationalizes, and doesn’t the heroine have to suffer, to lose something in order to make the happily ever after mean anything? Fall apart and come back together, that’s how the story always goes. So she swallows his honeyed apologies, lets him confess his sins against her skin, running her fingers through his hair and promising him the future. And what a gift it was, to love so freely as she always has, made all the more crucial by this devastating sorrow. Forgiveness is not weakness, she fundamentally believes. So when he holds out his bloodstained hands, she picks up the knife herself to offer up her bruised heart.

He possesses her heart, he’s hijacked her career, and it's still not enough. Marisol finds a new friend; Alicia is so lovely and understanding – they have a glass of wine too many and she confesses her own fears and frustrations. Later, when it all comes crashing down – Marisol isn’t sure which betrayal hurts the most. She just knows that it hurts, and it doesn’t stop hurting. Randall, who she’s loved most of her life, who she’s sat with on the bathroom floor through detox and withdraw, who dragged her into his violence and secrecy. And maybe that’s the worst bit, Marisol, with her bleeding heart and sunshine, grew attached to each and every person she treats at her kitchen table at his request. Randall coaxed her into involvement with the Cowboys without her knowing, but now Marisol knows them too well, and loves them in the way she loves all her people. She hates him for that, hates him for being a fucking coward and leaving.

She keeps the house that her parents bought them and continues to treat whoever shows up at her backdoor. Marisol does not learn the circumstances of how he was found until much later, only that he was dead and she’s the number one suspect. She’s never been all that good at lying, and spends harrowing hours in custody tearfully confessing about his affairs while protecting the Cowboys she’s treated. They come for her soon enough, and the DNA evidence is overwhelming – Marisol’s never set foot in that resort, nor would she ever wear such a gaudy shade. They take her back to that empty house and suddenly it seems so full of reminders of him, and she breaks down wrapped up in an old flannel. Marisol hated him for what he did but missed him like a little kid. Of such banality was grief made.

PLOT ARC: The Canary is a nurse for the Cowboys; she knows them all well. She’s suspected to have worked with a Hand to arrange for Alicia’s disappearance. Since Randall’s affair, she’s been in a weird place of: how many of them knew and how could they? As well as the feeling that these people were her family too. She absolutely has come to love those people that she treats because of Randall and reckoning with her grief and guilt and anger will be super fun to write. <3