#watch me and my red string cork board

[catsafarithewriter]

@cymraegdragon21 oooh the plot thickens! I may have to watch this, if nothing more than to look out for more happenstance similarities 👀

@tcrmommabear it *does* have a warning for... "emotionally intense scenes"??? Which I've never seen before, so I am definitely gonna cry (tbf I cry at anything; I cried earlier today while watching Scorpian's pilot so...)

the fact that netflix is advertising pokemon concierge, which has a young adult protag called Haru (who even sounds a fair bit like TCR's Haru) is making the urge to resurface the pokemon au really tempting XD

the trailer even starts with Haru slamming a hand onto her alarm clock and grumbling about having to get up. you could transpose the audio across from tcr and you probably wouldn't even notice for the first five seconds

[nipuni]

Nipuniiii!

Did you see the new drops for Dragon Age?! How are you feelinggggg

Hello, I did!! All the news caught me in the middle of a migraine episode that I'm just starting to recover from so I've been just watching and liking the posts I find but I'm excited!!

The game looks really good. The stylization and tonal shift of the first trailer was odd but it looks great in game honestly. It made me so nostalgic for Inquisition. Solas looks amazing and exactly how I was hoping he would!! The Tarot cards are back and all the companions look fantastic. Everyone looks so fun to draw which very important to me!! I love Emmrich already. I heard the character creator is very extensive and that you have to create your Inquisitor in it too and I like the implications of that. The prologue looks like it mirrors Inquisition's almost exactly. I'm already seeing parallels and symbolism everywhere I'm pulling out some red string and pins for my cork board as we speak.

The combat looks fluid enough, the environments have a lot of verticality and grandeur to them that I enjoy, the fashion is amazing, the offline and more linear playstyle sounds promising, the facial animations look terrible but the hair looks impressive. As for the story, it looks like it's going the way I hoped it would! The prologue had a lot of awkward overly expository dialogue but it's understandable given the circumstances I suppose. I know we were all expecting the Evanuris to be released and the Veil to fall in this game but it happening in the prologue took me by surprise lmao. Rook just immediately making everything worse five minutes into the game is so funny to me.

The scope of everything and the amount of locations and factions seems so ambitious. I have to wonder what really happened during production because at one point it really seemed like Bioware was going up in flames and half the team was fired and now people are talking about how amazing an experience this was and how it was the best team they have ever worked with and I'm so confused. I guess it's not long now until we find out.

The game looks bigger than ever, so I'm excited and a bit apprehensive. I'm hoping for the best and I look forward to it!! 🥰

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[tf2fansderogatory]

guys hear me out. if the mercs were tf2 animatronics what would their mechanics be

my guy you just gave me an entire AU idea

RED and BLU are rival entertainment companies, both build animatronics that perform at restaurant locations and can be rented, FNAF-style. their animatronics are so similar that one *has* to be ripping off the other, but nobody knows which is the original and which is the copy so people just pick which one they go to based on the color scheme and aesthetic

Scout has two main functions; waiter/server, and entertainer via sports. he has impeccable balance and sure footing, making him perfect for carrying plates and other dishes across a room filled with rambunctious, running children. when it comes to entertaining, he has an entire portion of his memory bank dedicated to just about every major sport in existence. his AI’s pretty good in that if the kids don’t understand some of the rules for a game, he can easily roll with it and come up with rule modifications on the spot to make sure the games are as fun as possible. normal racing is a popular game, especially since Scout’s fast. a lot faster than he lets on.

Solly works as one of multiple story-teller bots, specializing in exciting, action-filled stories- 9 times out of 10, war ones. when he was being built, the poor engineer/mechanic/all-around technician (Miss Pauling) was too sleep deprived to come up with many ideas beyond war stories. Soldier also promotes general physical health, and will usually run through “training exercises” (fit for kids) with everyone in the room after the story is over. a lot of the parents think that only the boys would like Soldier and some of them actively discourage their daughters from visiting him but they’re DUMB. at least half of the crowd of yelling, confidence-boosted cadets is eager young girls raring to fight and prove that they can do anything the boys can. sometimes the kids’ll form teams and play-fight/do a mock war. Solly makes sure that nobody gets injured and everyone knows how to “fight” without actually hurting someone. he knows how to do it perfectly, after all.

Pyro does arts and crafts, sometimes with Demo or Engie. they also, by nature of their mute design, encourage kids to be more understanding of people who don’t talk for whatever reason, which then carries over to being more understanding of anyone not like them. Pyro’s room is by far the most colorful; walls painted like Pyroland, cork boards absolutely littered in drawings the kids have given them, the shelves in his personal room (basically a closet where he goes to deactivate at the end of the day) filled with trinkets the kids made. their room is also connected to a small outside area with a fire pit. it’s nice for kids to relax with him and just watch the fire go. he even has a built-in lighter function in his hands, so he can start up a fire whenever.

Demo is also a story-teller, but his story genres are mystery and mythological/paranormal. he has a specialized voice box that lets him make sound effects, but so that they still sound like a human imitating the sound. his room is one of the most popular ones, though he prefers to wander around the establishment instead of sit in his room when he’s not telling stories. he helps out Pyro with arts and crafts, occasionally, but another way he likes to spend time with the kids is by showing off the medieval weapons (models) he has, and the kids always find it cool. it’s a rather large collection, and the models are quite…accurate.

Engie is, just like his normal tf2 counterpart, good at just about everything and pretty overworked. if animatronics could get stress headaches, he would, although mostly because of his desire to get all of his jobs done perfectly all at once. the jobs in question are musical entertainment, assistant cook, helping with arts and crafts, and helping with maintenance after the place is closed. he can play any strummed string instrument, and has a separate voice box just for singing. he also has extensive knowledge of the inner workings most of the electronic systems in the building; lights, sound systems, fire suppression- but not security. the company doesn’t want to risk him going haywire or getting some kind of malware and then letting thieves and such in. Engie also has an issue with his programming for talking to adults- the speech part of his ai is lacking in that department, so he tends to pull from what he knows for talking to kids, which used to make him come across as condescending at times. by now, though, he’s tweaked it and managed to perfect that polite, disarming tone of voice. he’s very good at it.

Heavy and Sniper’s rooms are connected and are the two designated “quiet rooms”. Heavy also reads to/with the kids and Sniper also tells nature stories, but for the most part they just keep a calm environment. kids with sensory issues, kids who get overstimulated, and even just kids who want to take a nap come to their rooms. there’s plenty of differently textured stuff available if someone needs to ground themselves or just wants to feel a certain texture. as for Heavy and Sniper themselves, they’re very calm and keep their voices low. Sniper makes sure everyone’s doing alright and doesn’t need anything, and Heavy deals with kids that are getting too loud or rambunctious (he’ll guide them out of the room and give them a gentle scolding, then let them back in if they promise to behave). if, for whatever reason, a parent is the one causing the issue, it’s still rather easy to get the parent out of the room(s), especially considering the strength of the two

Medic is the first aid bot, of course. the are a handful of different first aid stations around the building, with buttons to call Medic to them if he’s not there already. something went a little wrong with his personality coding, making him that unhinged man we all know and love, but he’s surprisingly good with kids and filtering what he says to not disturb them. the kids adore him. like Engie, though, he has issues interacting with adults- but instead of pulling from kid interaction info and coming off as condescending, Medic goes off of default, bland, robot interaction and ends up being just…creepy. short, curt speech, a lot of staring (with eyes that are far too observant and watching to be comfortable), and over time it goes from creepy and emotionless to creepy and somewhat hostile. it’s clear he’d rather be anywhere but around the adult. if one is being very insistent on talking to him, he’ll take to tidying up the nearest first aid station, giving a few…specific tools a rather thorough cleaning.

Spy, on the other hand, deals entirely with adults. he greets people at the door, and ensures the adults are at the very least comfortable while their kids have fun. most people question why his face was designed the way it was (with a mask), but…he’s calm, sophisticated, charming, the perfect animatronic for the job and honestly a good conversationalist. so nobody ever bothers to ask. it’s just a design choice, after all. Spy’s second function is assistant security, which has two parts of its own. the first is if a kid gets lost in the admittedly very large building. he’s the one who tracks them down and guides them back to their guardian. the second is helping the night shift guards when the place is closed. on most nights, he just patrols with them and takes care of any issues by following normal protocol. sometimes, though, he can convince the guards to go home and get some rest, and he and some (or all) of the other bots patrol. if someone tries to break in on one of those nights, well…you weren’t expecting to break into the home of nine sentient, semi-malfunctioning robots and get out, were you ?

[introspectivememories]

More about your last post I wanna know on how everyone reacts to eachother like imagine your friend finally is out of a pain cult that you had to sit around and watch as it literally ruins them but they had to be sacrifice and your local hero’s had to step to help them and then all of sudden when you go to the hospital you see TIM DRAKE straggling to fill out the most simplest questions

“TIM DRAKE!?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???”

“…what’s his blood type?”

AKSDHJSKAHDHAS I FUCKING LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY FICS

okay so! some background information, it is my personal hc that bear fell into the cult, senior year of high school. so when tim rescues, he's been in there for like 5 years. it just doesn't make sense to me otherwise? like they chose him for the sacrifice. it wasn't like "oh he's convenient. might as well use him." they specifically interrupted his date-but-not-really-a-date with tim to get to him. like they thought he would be a worthy sacrifice to bring down the attention of dionysus. like he had to have been their most devoted member or something.

the gang meets him in their freshman year of college where mori, jam, and bear all end up getting an apartment together bc the landlord leased it out to three different people and they all responded. dija and chinna are their next door neighbors. anyway, they all become friends bc they all go to gotham u together.

i think mori and jam always knew there was smth wrong with bear. he's always kinda lost in his head, he disappears at odd hours of the day, when he talks to you he never directly stares at you but to the side of you like there's someone there. and as they grow closer, obviously the truth comes out near the end of freshman year.

and as college goes on, everyone learns his backstory and his sordid history with tim. needless to say, bear is like your dad who drops absolutely horrifying Dad Lore at random times and the gang is left to red-string-cork-board it together. they could be at a cafe near uni and bear randomly would be like "i tried to give my dead best friend chest compressions for like 30 minutes bc i refused to believe she was dead." cue the gang going, ".... do you, maybe, wanna unpack that?" / "no." / "oh. ok"

background info out of the way, the gang despises tim drake. how could they not? when they see the way bear has deteriorated after junior year? when they stumble across a photo of the grieves trio and wonder where that bright smile of bear's had gone? how could they not, when all of them have had to talk bear out of a hallucination? how could they not when bear comes back each night with more and more scars? when they've all walked in on him bleeding out? when all bear talks about is being chosen? when it's starting to look like this cult is going to take their friend from them?

and then, 4 years after they met bear, they get a call from hospital telling them that their brother is in the icu. and when they finally arrive at the hospital, tim drake is sitting in the waiting room, struggling to fill out basic information about his so-called "best friend".

fuck tim drake.

[sixosix]

Sorry to bust down the door again so soon but I have returned! With more thoughts (trademarked)

(Also?? The fact I’m apparently being name dropped in reblogs?? WILD)

Akagi’s art made me go back and reread that specific scene where T!Reader keeps talking about kissing Lyney. (Beautiful art btw <3 I would ask out T!Reader on a date. She has two hands-). And although I didn’t realize it before, it felt like an interesting reversal of the normal interactions with them? Not to mention a couple of Lyney’s responses have me wanting to shake this man and demand his secrets. The magic man can’t hide them forever.

“It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

MAGIC MAN I DEMAND YOUR HIDDEN MEANINGS!!! Do you mean as seeing her as a threat? Physically?? Status wise?? Could it be the fact that even if you both hated each other she might still be able to read you like a book? Is it the fact she could have been a threat to Father’s favor of you as heir even if you don’t want it because last you knew, she did?? I know hating each other would have made it easier to dispose of someone who was once family but I can’t land on one solid reasoning behind this sentence. My brain ain’t big enough for this chief.

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

My heart goes out to this man. I know you talked previously in a different ask about the who knows about who’s feelings, but I don’t think you mentioned lyney’s perspective! Just that it was ours to interpret. So this line made me wonder- does he genuinely think reader doesn’t love him? That he needs to pull every trick in the book and plan 12 steps ahead just to slowly connect with her and have a chance? Because this definitely gave me that feeling. My take after my reread of the scene was that he felt like she was just being impulsive because of the alcohol with no real meaning behind it. He wants it to be real so bad, wants it to have those words be genuine but doesn’t think so. That he wants her to stop saying that because he knows(falsely but shh) that it isn’t true. And also because like Akagi said Furina really do be testing him but again shhhhhh.

Watch me stand at a cork board with red string trying to figure everything out.

(Also- I realized in my attempt to keep my last ask short I left out parts of my explanation of why I thought of the crack theory. Whoops. Maybe I’ll expand on that a different day.)

HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON!! you sent another ask about not signing off but i knew right away it was you LMFAOO

akagis art means SOOO much to me. its like someone looking into my head and drawing it out—its so wild. i cant believe we have a Thawed Artist !!! and the fact that akagi has a version of reader that we are all so in love with … THATS INSANE. we all dropped to our knees when akagi posted that art of drunk thawed!reader

LMFAOOO YOU LOOKING INTO IT. but i think you know what he means already… hihihi… stupid magic man always saying the most cryptic things

i said its up to your interpretation but u caught on what i was trying to imply! lyney didn’t believe a single thing. or a single kiss on his jaw for the matter LMFAOO who could blame him though? the reader he knows would run at the slightest wrong move—imagine how he felt having her all over him, demanding just kiss me, and its only because shes drunk. This poor man. he needs a hug. from a sober reader, preferably.

THE CORK BOARD LMFAOOO honestly, whenever u send me these asks im already imagining that. im imagining the anon pfp with a shirt of a deadman aether pinning red strings all over a corkboard

THANK U FOR STOPPING BY AGAIN ❤️❤️❤️❤️ WE ADORE YOUR ASKS

[crowdemon-boyo]

i was expecting dread but nice to know my ramblings are appreciated by someone ig ??

i’m rewatching criminal minds everybody fucking brace yourselves

[ludcake]

can you tell us more about your oc cassanna? we’re piecing together her backstory with a cork board and some string rn

ok you literally do not KNOW how much i have of her. I'm currently writing a dedicated halloween fanfiction of her with the Red Keep-as-monster because I felt like it was a vibe. She's everything to me she's my baby.

Casanna Lannister (with one S because it looks nicer and medieval languages have no consistency :D) is the only child of the Lord of Lannisport. Her mother was Jocasta Reyne, who died in childbirth after several previous miscarriages - and her father, Lord Tommen Lannister, was completely wracked with guilt. (After having pushed his wife to *that*, of course. Because the guilt only matters when it can't be helped anymore.)

Her father turned into a total catholic religious freak. Just, self-flagellation, fasting, wearing hair shirts, threw away the entire finances of House Lannister of Lannisport into giving money to charity and the Faith. Complete freak. He thinks that he's sinned for the murder of his wife and must repent to the Seven and is carrying that guilt *everywhere*.

Meanwhile, little Casanna was being raised by Septas like a proper little lady - except she was very sick. Or rather, very frail - frail on the level of the Maesters saying "she probably won't make it to six", except that since her father sees her survival as the imperative to his own moral redemption, he went crazy on it. Got the entire court praying for her recovery, didn't trust any maesters to touch her, regular leechings performed by the Septon - and while she hung on there as a child, things still weren't great.

That is, until Septon Joffrey showed up.

He was a wandering Septon, who'd taken vows of poverty, and no Septry would take him for his own... Unorthodox views; he was an expelled acolyte of the Citadel, because he saw the Seven and scripture as utterly paramount, to the point of getting into fistfights with his peers over it. Still, he was charismatic; he was a young man at the time, and he was invited into the keep of the Lannisters, as Tommen saw all men and women of faith, and he offered his services.

Casanna improved, and he tutored her. He taught her that the Seven were also One-in-Seven; that the Stranger and the Warrior were just as worthy aspirations for her as the Maiden and the Mother. She'd never be a mother, she replied; the maesters had told her, she did not have the constitution for it. He assured she could find still solace in the Seven, that Maiden-Mother-Crone wasn't all of God's teachings she could hold; his teachings as Maester worked pretty well, and her health recovered considerably, enough she could hang out with other children - enough that he was made Lord Tommen's right hand for it, given the resources of the realm, feast and gold alike at his fingertips.

She was twelve when she was first betrothed to be married, to a third cousin of the main Lannister line; she was twelve when she watched him, twice her age, bring out a mountain lioness to be slain in her name, to honor her, and watched the lioness maul him. Lord Tommen insisted that Septon Joffrey treat him, against the advice of his liege; when the cousin died, Joffrey was cast away.

Five more times she was betrothed, and five more times tragedy befell them; men from the Westerlands, Reach, Riverlands, as far away as Dorne came to ask for the hand of a child upon whom rested the possessions of Lannisport, third and fourth sons aiming to have something to their name. She rejected them all, a sad and small child, who did not wish to see tragedy again.

By pressure from her uncle, who wished to be heir to Lannisport - and by the other houses of the city, who saw her as an unreliable heir - she was sent away, to King's Landing, at the age of sixteen to be a lady in waiting to a princess. And here's where things diverge.

The *main* version of her is from the RP server I run, Birthright, and it's where a lot of her being crazy comes from; there, Daeron the Daring became King after the death of Aegon II, and things spiraled out from there to a general Green Victory. In that scenario, she's lady in waiting to Princess Rhaenara Targaryen, whom she fell in love with - and who loved her back, until Rhaenara was betrothed to Casanna's cousin through the Reyne line, who is the Lord of Casterly Rock. The main thing is that Casanna's approach to that relationship is... Very toxic, and very central to her character - she cannot be a maiden anymore, but she'll never be a mother. She used to fantasize about being a knight to her Princess, but someone else took that away. She created her confidence around being her confidante, about serving her, and her father died and she put a crown on the Princess' forehead and now the realm is dying and the gods aren't answering her prayers and she has to grip onto the idea of that idyllic, perfect relationship she had in her teenage years with all her might because otherwise there might be nothing left. So she became Lady Confessor and Mistress of Whisperers, and she can't handle the torture and murder, but she doesn't stand being unable to serve, so she pushes on and punishes herself through hurting others, including, ultimately, one of the hostages at the Red Keep - Daenaera Stone - whom she slowly falls for after months of very much being in a position of almost killing her, because Daenaera has accepted death enough that it's the only moment of peace Casanna has now. Because they can just sit together, and talk, and hate each other, and that's as good as bliss. Because nowhere else can she be like that. Because she can say the truth, because she can say what she feels, because she knows nobody will ever believe a prisoner. Nobody will ever listen to the words of a madwoman. A dead woman.

MEANWHILE, there's several other versions of her I play with. The constant with her are - toxic catholicism, usually involving the worship of a person as an outlet for her own frustrations with herself (my sin doesn't count if it's for them) and - being gay and also really mad that she can't be straight and have children and a husband and feeling lonely and isolated because of it, because in a society where the worth of a woman is measured by her womb, by her beauty, what happens when you can't have children, when you can't love men, and you're aging??

The main version I'm playing with for my Halloween fic is one wherein she's a lady-in-waiting to Cersei during AFFC, and her obsession revolves both around Cersei but ALSO around the Red Keep itself, and thinning the line between the two as an entity until the ghosts of the Red Keep eat her because the Red Keep is alive and is also a monster.

I can talk a lot about her, but just gonna. Leave this bit from a scene where I'm writing her.

Lady Confessor. My due was to be her Hand, to rule Lannisport, to sit beside her, that our blood be one and our flesh be united; my due was to speak as her voice, to act as her will, to breathe at her command and caress her as leal companion. Rather, mine is the charge of dungeons, of torture, of questions and answers, of the dread that come to men's hearts when they hear the whisper of her name; mine is the charge of spycraft and rats, of shadows and death, the Stranger's work. A lioness ought to have her pride, but none may hear me roar. Casanna's heart weighed and sunk deeper into her gut, that ever demanding ache for a past she'd lost a millstone round her neck; for sweet spring days where she blossomed to a woman, laying beside her heart's delight, her deepest desire. Those few nights not plagued by terrors, the images of her father's ghost haunting her, of Aegon, of Rhaegar, of the King and Lord Mallister passing to her eyes, their dead eyes, final sigh, their blood drowning her - those few nights not plagued by the weight of her actions, she dreamt of how her hair smelled in those drowsy mornings, of how the sun shone to her face, how her skin felt to her fingers, her voice to her ears. Her hands shook and spilled ink over the parchment, staining the words she'd penned; her ears echoed the sound of screaming, the insults and the sobbing, the pain and the despair of the Black Cells she now oversaw. A lady is never fazed by her circumstances; merely inconvenienced, the voice of Joff returned to her. The Seven made each of us in Their image, and given us the duty and the right to take Their Works into our hands - Maiden and Crone, Warrior and Smith, Mother and Father, even the Stranger; righteousness and piety comes through all.

She'd crowned her, laid the steel circlet to her forehead and proclaimed her Queen as she'd done a thousand times amid kisses and whispers; yet though her gaze still lay fondly upon Casanna, the duties of a Queen called her away - the realm tore itself apart for the grief they shared, the grief which parted them, the grief neither knew how to bear. Had it been a mistake, she'd questioned? Had she taken to action too quickly, and now she'd share the fate of the Black Queen's favourites, her Queen given to the flames? Her cousin had taken her from Casanna, wed her, given her a swollen belly and a happy smile through sorrow and thorn; Master of Laws, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport - yet that shield did nothing to prevent the incoming blow from the Ironborn. That shield let her father die, gave away her birthright, the Rock that now stole her treasures. She penned down her letter again; to a cousin she'd grown beside, a Lannett of a cadet line, a boy when they'd last met and now a man grown. Were her father alive, he may have encouraged that she match her hand to his, so the line may persist beside another junior of the Rock; rather, he'd serve as her castellan and first officer so long as she remain in King's Landing - she'd hoped that mayhap she may charge him with the affairs of the Rock, too, if she could persuade her cousin, but he now went to campaign, warring across the Riverlands, reaping the seeds of rebellion she'd sowed. Encased within the envelope to be sent was a badge of office - a golden key with the bow of a lion, twinkling eyes of sapphire and fangs of ivory. She had five made - one for herself, one for Lord Damon, one for Ser Lannett and the two remaining ones... Well, she needed bait to find new stakeholders.

The Golden Bank of Lannisport - as it would be called, as per its charter - was to finance the reconstruction of the city, a new fleet for the Rock, to rival Oldtown and even the Free Cities; without Gulltown or White Harbour beside the Queen, her domain may expand, and though her holdings would always be those of a cadet, she may find fortune elsewhere. Or so ran the thought. Lord Royce had passed not a week before, and the rotting smell of his body still stained her clothes, she felt; her hands seemed bloodied no matter how much she washed them, and she could hardly focus anymore, her tired expression hidden by the steady work of her servants and ointments and paint from lands as distant as Lorath and Yunkai. Casanna had torn the realm apart, laid beside a woman, killed those who trusted her; it had been the Seven's own punishment that she lose all that she love most, that she be shackled like a hound, that she be put to serve her Queen as her left hand, do the darkest bidding and shed the blood and whisper the evils necessary for the realm. She had her duty, and she'd do it to her best ability - but her heart hurt that she felt it unrewarding, a punishment, her mind taken by guilt she'd never felt before. Casanna had never questioned the direction her heart took her, the winding roads that service to her Princess led her through; she'd lied and betrayed, she'd even been accomplice to death when it was required - but that was when she was rewarded with kind words and caresses, when they were one, when she still held out hope they may be together, as the Maiden's light bless them. Now she was a spinster, a gaoler, a rat-catcher in the walls; Mistress of Whisperers, Lady Confessor, Child of the Stranger, a bloodied sapphire to adorn her Queen's crown. No true lioness should be sneaking about without a pride to follow her.

What had once been the Queen's was now hers, and she sat at her chair on the Small Council; as she busied herself with royal affairs, now Casanna looked after the wyrms and drakes along the realm, whose whispers and blades served the line of the dragon. They said the usurper courted the favour of the Iron Bank of Braavos, and that the Rogares lay close with the court at Sunspear - the Martell had not yet recognised the legitimacy of Her Grace's reign, but they'd always been a troublesome lot. She set the letter aside upon a stacking pile of missives to be sent to the rookery by a servant; her livelihood had become to writ letters, learn the weakness of flesh and bone, demand answers, reminisce and fall to night terrors, at times interrupted by the counsel of the Small Council. Her cousin rode out to the Riverlands, her Queen was beset by treason and flattery; Casanna's affairs were not war, and war was all the realm was set against. She'd grown in times of peace, blossomed to a woman in strife, but when it came again, she was beset by matters she'd not learned, powerless in the face of it all. She paused, and cleaned after her desk, standing up and taking a deep breath - her corset felt tight around her waist, months of indulgence to hippocras and honeyfingers to console her heart taking their toll on her shape. She'd not gone out hunting or riding on horseback since the Great Council, and she missed the fresh air of the open fields of the Kingswood; but duty took its price, and it was rather that than her blood. The Lady Confessor placed her cloak upon her shoulders, and pinned it together with a golden brooch; with firm steps, she ran down the stairs, the stink and musk of the gaol bringing her insides to a simmer. She withdrew a dagger, a pretty dirk from Lys, and got well to work. For the Queen.

[thenopequeen]

okay I am going to go on the rant, although this might not be 100% what I said eairiler IRL because there are some things that are only able to be communicated via hand gesters and stutters.

Also I am aware I sound very Red String on Cork Board. I am open to taking criticism. um but gentle if possible.

So to start, let's look at the actual role given to Racer (I will be using either Race or Racer as it's a bit easier to type out and are the names used to refer to him in the broadway musical which is what I'm most familiar with.). Oh and when coming to anything specific I will be referring to the recorded 2017 version because that's the one I've got a link to so I can watch it while reading fanfics or drawing (/srs. i do do this)

Race is listed as a background/ensemble character in any source I can find (although I could be missing some). however, his actions/overall role in the story are more comparable to Crutchie, who is listed as a supporting character.

This is heavy evidence for placing him as a supporting character, however what makes it interesting is that Racer almost seems to be favored over the other background characters.

About 50% of his dialogue could be given to another character and it literally would not impact the plot much, unlike the other supporting characters, who are unthinkable to replace in anyway shape or form.

If we're continuing comparing Race to Crutchie, which I will because they share the most similarities role-wise, those two are the ones with the most prominent solo lines. Racer has several from multiple songs (King of New York, Carrying the Banner, and Once and For All include at least one solo line that could technically be given to literally anybody else), and Crutchie has a few solo lines and a song to himself. Actually if you remove the tap section, King of New York could be potentially read as the closest thing we get to a 'side' character having a song. Literally all the other songs are group focused when it comes to singing, or are done by main/supporting/antagonistic characters. Racer carries King of New York, setting a wonderful tone with the conversation just before the song starts, as well as his very over the top energy that is present through out the entire song. Okay I also have a soft spot for the song because it was the first song I ever did a tap dance too last year (nowhere near as impressive as the show but it was cool)

Racer also is in at least TWO scenes where he doesn't technically need to be there. First off, the one where it's easier to explain: the scene just before Once and For All, where the gang is at the printing press. Technically, Race doesn't need to be down there in the first place. While yes, it's probably so he knows the way to direct the others into the room, he doesn't need to be there in the moment. This is also never explained in literally anyway. he's just there. Technicality, he could follow the trail of unlocked doors or somebody could bring him in. While this is technically grasping at straws I will stand by this. The second is a really minor thing that you'll only notice if (like me) you've watched this musical enough that you can quote a good part of it.

So in the scene where Jack is teaching Davey and Les to sell papes that ends with them getting chased to the theater, if you look closely you'll see a familiar face

I have rewatched this scene several times to make sure it's Race. it is. Why is he there. Literally the only other people in this scene are the passbyers who buy a paper, Synder, and the trio. Why is Racer here. He just kinda vibes. I still want an explanation because EVERYBODY ELSE leaves the stage quickly. WHY IS HE THERE???

Now to quickly break into the more IRL universe, in the cast call of this production, which my brother watches so so often (he wants to do musical theater), Racer;s actor is NOT listed with the other newsies. Even Spot, who is listed as support/featured in most sources, is just grouped into the rest of the ensemble. Instead, Racer is grouped in with the Delancey brothers. I still don't understand this.

This is your reminder that Race is listed as ensemble by literally all sources I could be bothered to find.

On top of this, in both the movie and the show, he's one of the most named 'background' newsies. While I've only seen the movie a grand total of once (didn't like the music in the slightest), Racer is a character you see A LOT. Sometimes he's not really doing much, but he's there.

In the musical this is in part because there is so much personality packed into him, but still. Elmer and Albert also have a lot of personality and yet I still find that Racer feels like he has more screentime.

On top of this, Racer is present in literally ever scene with all the newsies. And ALWAYS as Racer.

Anyways this is a slightly unhinged rant. Also if you haven't figured it out Racer is my favorite character.

Yeah idk how that happened.

Anyways agree with your sister that Racer is a supporting character. at least in everything but casting.

The cynical part of me says it's so the producers can get away with paying the actor less. The deranged crossover nerd in me says he's a Watcher

[awellboiledicicle]

The order of events that lead to Hawke and Anders being aboard the Nautiloid are a bit scattershot, in keeping with just how much the universe likes to jerk the two of them around, specifically.

Event the first: Hawke volunteers to stay behind in the Fade to distract the Nightmare so that Thedas would have a prayer of restoring the Wardens and allowing the Inquisitor and company to escape. Hawke is presumed dead.

Event the second: Varric Tethras pens a letter to each of Hawke's former companions to alert them of his passing. This includes, naturally, a long letter to Hawke's husband, Anders. The letter includes both the sad news and the strongest possible sentiment that Anders should not do anything rash about this news.

Third: Anders receives the letter and has an emotional breakdown that ends several hours later with him curled up on the floor of the cave he'd been hiding in. Choosing to either find Hawke trapped in the Fade or die trying, Anders makes the decision to attempt entering the Fade via one of the many rifts opening across the landscape. Justice does not stop him expressly because he honestly did not think it would be possible.

Fourth: Anders enters the Fade and Justice gains control of their body. They search for, and locate, Hawke after expending a great deal of willpower to mold the landscape enough to actually reach him. The pair are knocked into the void by the Nightmare and assume themselves doomed.

Lastly: While fleeing the githyanki pursuit, the Nautiloid flashes into the plain containing Thedas and the Fade. Hawke and Anders are abducted largely by coincidence.

Which, as you can see from the above red string cork board, is where the Absolute fucked up.

Not yet pictured is Anders getting wormed after Lae'zel, being put back to sleep as the worm tries to fight the taint in his blood, Hawke getting worm'd, and then Justice taking over once the Mindflayer leaves-- expelling the worm as he essentially burns it out of them. Justice physically ripping himself out of the pod after Lae'zel fucks off [she didn't listen when he asked for help and he's very annoyed by this], and then just hammering on Hawke's pod until it opened and then hauling Hawke up by the front of his fucked up armor like "get your shit together, we have things to kill and safety to get to and Anders cannot help" and also "I cannot believe you did this if it wouldn't be counter productive i would kill you, is2g". But in Justice terms, so it's more "Prepare yourself, we are beset. Anders cannot aid you, so i shall suffice." And after Hawke gets his feet and scrounges up a few daggers on the way through the corridors, its "Your decision in the Fade was unwise. Anders was compromised. Do not do this again, it was unpleasant."

Lae'zel is just happy to have two people for back up instead of none, even though one is very much just wailing on imps with whatever weapon he can pick up. Because while Justice prefers a sword, he'll use what he has available that Anders' body can heft. And Anders is surprisingly strong for being a mage. He does, however, notice Hawke is slow and comments on it.

"Sorry, the bloody worm in my skull might be throwing me off, Justice!"

"We shall see it removed, then. You will not be able to keep Anders safe like this."

"Fucking watch me."

"I will have no choice."

Lae'zel does not appreciate the banter. "Tch, less talking and more fighting!"

"I can multitask." Justice insists, grabbing hold of an Imp's head and squeezing until it popped.

"You're being a lot clearer than usual--" A dodge of a gout of fire before a well placed stab takes out another imp. "Is this still the Fade?"

"No." With a grunt he buried a hand axe into yet another imp. "The worm's magic overpowered him. This is simply what occurs when he cannot muddle things."

"He doesn't muddle--"

"I will not argue the balance of my being with someone outside of it. Be content that he shall be safe when we are free of this place." He fixed his gaze on Hawke as the last imp fell. "I am no longer complete alone, this will not be sustainable."

"Is he hurt?"

"I believe the pain is emotional, as is the relief. He is weakened and would not survive in control." He pulled a long sword from under a dead thrall and tested its weight. "Come, we must reach this helm before my hold fails."

Lae'zel continues to be annoyed by the chatter. Justice is mostly doing it because he hasn't been able to actually speak when he surges to the fore. Fronting isn't easy for him, it's almost always in a dangerous scenario and his being is very intertwined with Anders' so he gets waylaid by anything Anders is feeling at the time. Which means he tends to overreact and thus why conversation doesn't exactly fucking happen.

Shadowheart's just going to see this little band come to her pod and Justice absolutely will just rip the fucker open. A Just Action. Just wrenches it off and informs Shadowheart they're going to the helm-- only to pause when Hawke's worm does the brain connection thing. All Shadowheart knows is they have a giant glowstick of a man with them and he's very focused. Hawke is looking at shit and pocketing stuff while they hurry, but he's still hurrying.

Anders will absolutely not believe Hawke that Justice was vaguely chill later. It would make him feel both better--that his personality is intact--and worse--that HIS emotions are what twists his responses.

Also not pictured is Justice yeeting himself out of the ship after Hawke gets knocked out and just. clinging on to slow his fall before they hit the ground. The added durability of his control is largely why they weren't unconscious by the time Hawke wakes up but it was Work to keep aware and in control so Anders wasn't just passed out on the beach.

Ponderin

[voidify333]

Got a lot of OFMD vibes from Good Omens s2???

BIG spoilers for both GO S2 and OFMD S1 under the cut

Like, this isn’t a situation for the copied homework meme format, I believe it’s just same braincell on a really juicy story beat to create drama in a high concept romance, but I find the similarities fascinating so I’m gonna post about them. (What’s funny is that the thing that actually got me to watch OFMD in the first place is the promise of Stede being like aziraphale and blackbonnet being like A/C…)

The main thing is how the ending of ep 6 reminded me of OFMD ep 9.

The central pair kiss for the first time— letting any remaining oblivious audience members know this isn’t just a bromance, and alienating any homophobes in the audience who weren’t already alienated by the queer supporting characters. (That last bit is actually the biggest other “ofmd vibes” thing I picked up— how the very queer supporting roster served both to let homophobes know the show isn’t for them, and to reassure the queer audience that they’re allowed to hope for the main pair being Outright Canon)

But they also enter their divorce era— specifically, what happens is this:

The sunshine bookworm has a scene with a character the audience recognises as antagonistic (completely different scenes though— Stede’s traumatic experience with the bully in the woods vs Az being emotionally manipulated by metatron into thinking coming back to heaven is a good idea)

This scene, combined with his existing insecurities, causes him to return to a life that he won’t even find fulfilling (we know this bc he stepped away from it in the first place!) but he’s been convinced that it’s The Thing He Has To Do

In the process, he abandons his black-clad true love and breaks his heart

But here (in addition to all the obvious differences in context and execution), the season cliffhanger cuts away BEFORE “episode 10” as it were.

And… I don’t think “episode 10” is going to happen immediately for Aziraphale when lights go up on s3. Like, the “love epiphany” part may come in an early episode (we saw the way he touched his lip), but he’s certainly not getting the “plan to leave” part until some time further into s3, because the life he’s mistakenly gone back to isn’t with a Mary figure who cares about him but wants him elsewhere as much as he secretly wants to be elsewhere— instead, it’s with Heaven, an abusive cult that is planning to use him to destroy Earth, and has the power to destroy him on a whim.

Aziraphale’s key insecurity is his need for authoritative reassurance that he is Doing The Right Thing. This is what allowed metatron to use the offer of heaven to manipulate Az into hurting Crowley’s feelings and then abandoning Crowley. The tone demands an eventual happy ending (my faith in this is why the ending of e6 didn’t even make me mad), but Az is going to have to work through those issues before the happy ending can take place— Nina basically spelled this out.

The next place this comparison led me was to the thought “can I connect a red string on my cork board between post s2 crowley and ep10 Ed?”

There is an important difference between them, and it’s in kind of the opposite direction as the difference between Az-when-we-cut-away and Stede-when-we-cut-away

Ed has closed himself off to vulnerability completely after his heartbreak, and lashes out horribly, and we all know the reunion in s2e1 is not going to go smoothly

Meanwhile, although Crowley is heartbroken and mad… he is ultimately like Maggie on the “I hope she’ll be there when I’m ready but there’s no guarantee—” “there is” front. Aziraphale needs to work through his issues, and the plot needs to get to a place where The Real Big One is foiled and neither of them are in imminent danger of destruction, and once Az stops being an idiot he will need to do a great many “you were wrong” dances, but once all those prerequisites are fulfilled, we’re getting our second kiss (and I’m fanning myself just thinking about that hypothetical scene hoooooboy)

Maybe there will be a period of “angel I can’t forgive you. not yet”, that would be juicy drama, but the tone of the story demands that any such moment will be temporary

However, I do have a vivid mental image now, inspired by e10 Ed, of post s2 crowley standing in the bookshop and saying to himself out loud “oh, nothing lasts forever, is that right, angel?” and then going on a bender of destroying or giving away books (I lean towards giving away as it would leave less permanent fallout for later, and also be funnier, while still being just as potent a gesture of spite in the moment)

Anyway when OFMD S2 comes out and we get a better look at the blackbonnet divorce arc I’m going to try to use it as a divination tool to predict the events of the A/C divorce arc

[1jemmagirl22]

So I was watching a PandaRed video when I remembered Tyler Hoechlin is in both Teen Wolf and Arrowverse. Then I started thinking, could I connect most of my favorite shows through the actors in them? 

Well this sent me down a spiral so now I’m going to spell it out, and in short connect most of my favorite shows, movies, and actors. I’m not even fucking kidding nearly every show or film I’ve ever adored connects to each other through enough convoluted pieces of metaphorical and literal red string. 

To start off we’re going to use Teen Wolf as a connecting point, the center of the board. That’s right, just imagine a big cork board Stiles Stilinski style packed with red string that’s what I’m laying out here.

From Teen Wolf we can diverge in a couple major directions. First we’ll take Tyler Hoechlin and jump to the CW. Using Tyler Hoechlin we get to Supergirl, and using the Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover we get to all the major Arrowverse shows. Check them off the connection chart.

Using Supergirl we get, and this is rapid fire here. Chris Wood to Vampire Diaries, and take Candace Accola and Joseph Morgan and we get The Originals and Legacies too. That’s the TVDU checked off. 

Taking Katie McGrath gets us to oh yes, Merlin, and from there, oh we get many fun things. First off from Merlin we get Colin Morgan, who can bring us to Doctor Who, but we’ll get there later. Next up is Bradly James who gets us to Medici the magnificent, and oh wait just a minute good old Daniel Sharman, who I might add brings us back to BOTH The Originals and Teen Wolf! I’m not even kidding, it gets more fun from here. Also Katie McGrath was in Jurassic World so that brings our first MCU connection with Chris Pratt, but keep waiting there’s more. And AND! With Merlin we get Anthony Head who brings us to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (Again!), and Scooby Doo (a Scooby Doo film I might add directed and written by James Gunn) via Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Sara Michelle Gellar, who is going to be in a spin off for Teen Wolf!!

Seriously I’m just getting started this is insane and I think I’m gonna have to split it up a bit. Before moving on from Supergirl (Yes we are still on Supergirl, and the CW). We must also mention Chyler Leigh who can connect us to Grey’s Anatomy. But again, we get there later and oh boy is it fun.

After Supergirl let’s just skip over most of Arrowverse, if I named every actor connection between all the major CW shows we’d bet here for a very long time but I will stop at Arrow’s Katherine McNamara. Because *rubs hands together* she gets us to Shadowhunters!!!! Because oh yes, Shadowhunters is fun, very fun. First off Harry Shum Jr. Ok, now not to mention the fact that he, Mellissa Benosit (of Supergirl) and Grant Gustin (of The Flash) are all in Glee (A show I have never and will never watched but I still got to mention it), with my favorite author of all time, Chris Colfer, is just, my gods we’re still on the first leg of this insanity tree it only gets more awesome from here. And as of recently, with dear Harry Shum Jr. joining Grey’s Anatomy, yet another link to TV’s longest running medical drama. 

Our final stop in the Shadowhunters territory is Luke Bains, aka my first connection the my favorite show of all time Marvel’s agents of Shield. Because, that's right Luke Bains popped up in season 7! I will also as a side not mention through Shield season 7, and Dianne Down I connect to Disney, and as such through the constant interconnectedness of Disney both Cole Sprouse and Zendaya, getting us MCU (again!) and RIverdale. Don’t ask for the full explanation of how this connects just look it up on Youtube and you’ll find massive crossover explanations. Moving on!

Now, with that first branch, yes first branch! complete we move on to our second, and our second branch from Teen Wolf is Adelaide Kane, who oh boy, brings us to many things. First there’s Reign, which gets us to Toby Regbo, who brings us back to Medici the Magnificent! (He also connects us to Fantastic Beasts but if I go down that habit hole its a while, short expo I’ve got Pirates of the Caribbean. And through good old Jude Law, the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. And also, Captain Marvel, and brings us to not only Clark Gregg, and another connection to MCU and AOS, but also! Also! Star Wars!) 

Ok *Takes Deep breath*. We've got a lot done, but there’s still more! back with Reign, before we get back to Adelaide Kane. Torrance Combs brings us to not only Supernatural and the Tudors (Which also gives us our first OUAT connection but I have a better one so put a pin in that). But also, full circle back to the Originals. Gods this is enjoyable. And again, skipping SPN cause I don’t need that kind of actor headache, we got most of my faves here. 

Side Note also Celine Sindeton was also in Medici so just, ya. And While I’m on the topic Medici connects auto Game of Thrones and Lord of the Rings! Yes both of those fantasy jugecrnots via Richard Madden. And! via Sara Parish and Last Night in Soho we get to Anya Taylor Joy, and Queen’s Gambit (And also our first Thomas Brodie Sangster mention but we’ll get back to him in a minute) and Matt Smith, which brings us once again back, to Doctor Who! 

*another deep breath* The next connection is even better. Anna Popplewell brings us to Narnia, which brings us to, have you guessed his name? I bet you guessed his name. We’ve now reached *drum roll* Ben Barnes! And Ben Barns brings us to Shadow and Bone! Oh yes, I’ve brought it in. Via Amita Suman we also get to The Sandman and Doctor Who, which gets us to Jenna Coleman (who brings us to The Crown) and Patton Oswalt (who brings us back to AOS), and said show is written by good old Neil Gaimon. Who brings us to Good Omens and David Tennant too, but again, I’m getting so off track I still haven;t even touched Once Upon a Time yet. 

Narnia must also be mention because with Narnia we get to The Royals, via William Mosley (Said show gets us to Gossip Girl, somehow); Georgia Henly gets us to Spanish Princess which gets us to Downton Abbey and the White Princess, which gets us back to Shadow and Bone and also, Jodie Colmer, cause at this point why not (just play with IMDB to find more connection my brain is starting to hurt); and also yet again Game of Thrones, and this time adding Harry Potter, with Peter Dinklage and Warwick Davice. I can also bring in Elf now. Elf! I started with fucking Teen Wolf and now I’m at Elf!

Moving on! Adelaide Kane brings us to Grey’s Anatomy, again and short of saying everyone ever, let’s just stick to the ones that connect to shows I haven’t mentioned yet and jump to Millie Bobby Brown. Because yes she was in Grey’s Anatomy and yes I can now connect Stranger Things, Enola Holmes, the Witcher, and the DCEU.

Am I done yet? Am I free? Nope cause Stranger Things brings us to Jamie Cambel Bower, who brings us to Lilly Collins, who bring us around to Fantastic Beasts and the Tolkien movie. And so much more but I’m getting tired so I’m moving on again!

I’m gonna take a minute to mention all the MCU connection and say Tom Holland, the main AOS cast, and any Marvel actor you can think of including Karen Gillian are on the board. through Karen we get to Doctor Who, and directily back to Arrow and Legends via not one, not two, but three speerate actors. We also get to Torchwood which through crazy twists can bring us back around to Enolam Holmes and Agents of Shield! (Just look up the actors my brain can't remember their names by now).

Almost there, we’re done with branch two. Yes this was only brach two! And now we can move on to our final branch, Dylan O’brien, and eventually OUAT and the West Wing. Dylan O’brien brings us to Maze Runner and that brings us to two brilliant points. First Kaya Scodelario who brings us to pirates, Spinning Out, and more. Will Pouter, who’s also in Narnia. And the star of my childhood in every way Thomas Brodie Sangster! Oh this sweet precious darling brings us to not only Love Actually, and every British actor ever so just check the IMDB, but also Queen’s Gambit. 

Ok, ok, from here we take the Queen’s Gambit route via Doctor Who, back through Karen Gillian and get to the major MCU, through many films we get to both Josh Dallas and Sebastian Stan who get us to Once Upon a Time. but wait, we don’t even have to cause Once Upon a Time is reached from, who, well Adelaide Kane of course cause she’s in season 7, and no matter how much I fucking hate season 7 its Adelaide Kane and I adore her. From Once Upon a Time we get to the final of my fav shows, the West Wing, how? well by Richard Schiff of course, he was in season 1, 1! of OUAT. 

Now there are some things left out, Bridgerton, the 100, Warehouse 13, Grimm. Okay like give me a minute. Grimm is gotten to via Grey’s cause David Guintoli is in an early season. But we could also use Elizabeth Tolluch, a star of super man and Lois. Either way we’re there, and from there Sasha Roiz takes us to not only Warehouse 13, but also I kid you not the 2004 for disaster movie Day after Tomorrow, and Jake bloody fucking Gylenhall. That’s right he’s in here too. 

Now Bridgerton can be connected via Julie Andrews, somehow, likely via Aqauman, or at least that's the one I can connect with least amount of brain power. Bridgerton get’s us to Derry Girls and the british CSI (or show every actor will be on at least once) Midsummer murders, so just throw in MI5 while I’m here. 

The 100, takes a minute, but not really. Grey’s comes in yet again, with Isaiah Washington. From there we get the 100, but also via Henry Ian Cusick we get both Scandal and Lost so throw in a crap tone more actors from those. I’ve now tied in the Hawaii 5-0 and Magnum PI Reboots. And somehow, ABC’s Inhumans! Like how?! Richard Harmon can also get us to Blake Lively via the Age of Adelaide, and back, yet again to Gossip Girl!

What's still left to connect? The Great, how do I do this Nicholas Holt. I can either go via Anya Taylor Joy and the Menu or Tolkien but either way Nicholas Holt, The Great, and Elle Fanning are now connected to this insanity, somehow!

Rapid fire round now so I can squeeze in as many show as possible before my mind dies. Agent Carter via haley Attwell who brings us back around to Kira Knightly and like everything. Lilly Collins is in here through Either Downton or the Mamia mia Love Actually connection, which gets us to one of my fav films, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Anne with an E via Stranger Things. And Runaways via Stan Lee. 

With all that out of the way, we conclude this experiment? insanity trail? Lecture? I don’t know all I know is this is bloody fucking awesome and insane and just do with it what you will. There is no point, its just a long trail of every actor I’ve ever liked can connect to another actor and anther thing I liked and honestly I’m not complaining. Now all I need is more of this is new media and I’m all set. 

Also, if anyone wants to add on to my connections, please feel free. Like honestly, I beg you, make this insanity more insane. 

[pandemicwrites]

Left Behind: Rise of the Antichrist (2023, before Tucker was fired from Fox)

Bad movie that I did not enjoy. Do not watch.

There's a reporter in this named Buck. Wonder if his last name is Sarlson.

omg... Buck is interviewing somebody from a multinational something about the mental health crisis. murders, suicides, robbery is, etc have all spiked, 6 months after the rapture. they call it... the plague of evil. they think Christians existing is preventing a plague of evil.

yo... this narrator is popping in to describe with words what I'm seeing on the screen. At least, that's the best case scenario; The worst case scenario is that the writers don't know how to show don't tell, so instead I'll have to deal with a narrator throughout this audiobook

"Our military and our police were decimated by the vanishings," said the CEO of Faux News to Buck Sarlson. I'm not sure it would be worse if he were right, or if he were wrong...

The berating narrator who haunts protagonists is back. He is describing how a once-mom, whose child vanished, is sad and confused. The woman is laying on her once-child's bed, cuddling a stuffed animal. What is this narrator adding?

White Jesus has hair of comparable length to me, but his is a wig... poser.

A mother screaming in emotional agony as she realizes she will be eternally separated from her child. The omnipotent, omnibenevolent, omniscient god who created the situation is the protagonist.

I wonder if the narrator exists to create sound in scenes that would be otherwise silent. Don't give their Christian audience a moment to think about what it would mean if they were right.

Buck is meeting with red strings, a conspiracy theorists admits he is crazy, but is somehow the first to stumble upon groundbreaking information. Red Strings walks over to the whiteboard, spins it around, and reveals that the information is diagrammed on a literal cork board with literal red cotton string. I don't like that he and I both shop at Michaels.

They name dropped the Great Reset 🥳

A film professor might tell you this film's narrator is the answer to the question, "What's the opposite of the show don't tell rule?"

Whoa, whoa, whoa... Don't miss that drive by at evolutionary biology by knockoff Don Cheadle, explaining that maybe UFOs solve the "gaping holes in the fossil record."

The bad guys: played by the literal UN

Wait, the narrator just cut off the Antichrist. Nobody's even crying in this scene... Is this legal?

🤣 They couldn't figure out how to write the antichrist's pitch for the one world economy, so they did a meta thing where the narrator just explains whats happenning (or: cuts in). I mean this quite literally.

The church's sign is vandalized with the words "All souls matter"

Oh, I've cracked the case for real: the narrator is a propagandist. The narrator detracts from the film from an artistic perspective. Best case scenario, he is telling the audience what they're already being shown, and allowing the writers to be lazy in how they write the non-verbal parts of the scene. Therefore, the narrator is included for a non-artistic reason. He exists to guide the audience to predetermined conclusions. A propagandist.

Cut too: grave robbery. This scene is confusing, because in it the narrator says (redundantly) that Chloe found what she needed, proof. Proof means you know something... Or another words, is knowledge. In the last scene, they explicitly said faith was not knowledge. This means that Chloe is no longer operating on faith, which I think means she's no longer a Christian?

Cut to: Buck Sarlson finding Jesus in the bathroom. Buck didn't even let him finish; just ran in there and started shouting and weeping. Rude.

Is this narrator supposed to be a character in the movie, or an omniscient narrator outside of the movie? I don't think Kevin Sorbo ever decided, judging from what's on my screen

Cut to: car chases a plane, hoping to catch a draft... Up into the sky? Also, why did the gunman shoot at the car buck was in earlier, but they don't shoot at the plane?

I don't understand Kevin sorbo's theology. The last days are obviously preordained, because the pastor was able to read Revelation and understand the future. But, in the last scene, married or says that there's plenty of work left to do; that it's important even if a single soul is saved. So, it looks like accepting Jesus is an act of free will not preordained, but the last days are preordained. Clearly it's not possible for our ragtag bunch of heroes to convert 100% of humanity, because if they did that the future would change. So, what does that mean for the people who are not saved? Is it a zero-sum game, because there's only 7 years, so if you're spending your time preaching in Wyoming, the people in North Carolina are doomed? Or, is it that God has a certain percentage of the population that he will not let become Christian? Like, if our ragtag group converts 49% of humanity, would God stop accepting applications?

[icarian-angel]

The Chat Room

A horror story by my friend :)

The walls are a mildly too bright blue, and the paint is peeling slightly. The fold out couch is covered in faded red fabric. And the window that sits above it is cracked, letting in a faint chill. I stare forward, gazing blankly ahead at what sits in front of me. It's James’ cork board, dozens of pieces of red string and blurry photographs are pinned to it. He really ought to clean it up. Old bits of evidence from long ago court cases peek out from under the newer additions. I glance over at the big antique grandfather clock, it reads 1:27. That clock's unrelenting tick, tick, tick has served as the watchful guard to many of our more, unhinged  antics. Kore’s plush bee smiles up at me, its unchanging sew on smile unnerving me slightly. I gently grasp it and turn it so it's no longer facing my way. The calendar on the wall reads 12/31/07, it never changes. I once again find myself engulfed in a screaming silence, broken only by that tick, tick, tick. That clock's unholy ticking has followed me through my dreams and out again, never allowing me a moment to rest. I watch, and I listen, tick, tick, tick, it fills my head like a mug overflowing with tea, the scolding hot liquid cascading to the floor and burning threw. The puddle at my feet grows ever wider, like the gargantuan maw of some unknowable beast.  Threatening to, in its deranged imaginings, send me hurtling into the void below. I do not move. That unstoppable tick, tick, tick dragging me back to the room with peeling paint and cork boards on the walls. I stand forever enshrined within it, trapped with the jaws of a venus fly trap that has long since closed upon foolish prey.

[felicityhicklingviscomlvl6]

sp – visual experiments (idea 2)

my visual experiments using the theory of the red string of fate:

script type: the first thing I wanted to try was using string to create type. the idea of using the string as the text is the single line which is what we see the red string as. I did this by first adding glue to page + then while it was drying I could mould the string to create the letters. this is something I could see my self using as it adds a person touch since it's been hand-made.

san serif type: i also tried this in san serif which was a lot more frustrating as so many of the letters I had to double up on. san serif doesn't feel as strong as script in lowercase as it's too bold + less dainty. (I ended up time-lapsing myself doing this as I thought it would be interesting to watch me do it, but it mainly just captures some of my frustration toward it).

pins + string: this was my final experiment with type where I used my cork board + pins to create the word 'hello'. this isn't as successful as the first two experiments as this makes the letters sharp edged which contradicts the red string of fate.

sewn page: here I took inspiration from typographic links by dan collier which I looked at for my visual research. I think it's a cool way to apply feel-able textures that have been added after the printing + binding process. this + the previous experiment did remind me of murder mysteries, so I need to correctly portray the right message through these ideas.

[0x5742]

15 questions.

[For @tenderfacemeat. This was previously "15 Questions 15 Mutuals", but I shan't tag anyone. Consider yourself lucky enough I ever finished writing these answers!]

Are you named after anyone? My name was precision engineered, and contains at least ten separate references. I could get out the red string and cork board, but I'd rather not. Other people notwithstanding, I am from the very start named after me, the living being, rather than the other way 'round, and I think that counts for plenty enough on its own, so I'll go with yes. Final answer.

When was the last time you cried? I don't exactly keep track of that on the calendar. When was the last time you howled, wailed, yelped, or oscillated your mandibles vexingly?

Do you have kids? No. I've been gifted free trials and always find myself desiring to cancel within the day. The whole experience seems remarkably unappealing.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? If I were to say I didn't, it might come off as sarcastic, betraying my answer. Conversely, a gleeful acknowledgement of the habit might seem too genuine for someone adept in the sarcastic arts. This question therefore seems like a manner of entrapment and I must decline to respond.

… Wait a second. I've been bamboozled. This is already an answer. Abort! Retry! Fail!

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Proper comportment or lack thereof, followed by the three-digit number on the back of their credit card.

What's your eye colour? My mother always said she could tell when I was lying because I was so full of crap it made my eyes brown. 'Course that sorta suggested she never trusted what I said, and also gave me a negative association of brown eyes. Hurrah for weird trauma about normal things!

Scary movies or happy endings? Give me something happy, life is rough enough. I don't mind being unsettled on the way, though. A little salt brings out the sweetness.

Any special talents? Watch, I can do this: gestures in a particular way

Where were you born? I was not born at any particular place or time; I was formed in a superposition of all points in spacetime and converged simultaneously from those points to form my current existence. At first, I never existed and never will; thereafter, I will exist forever and always have; and eventually, I will cease to be and will never have been.

Further, because a person may only describe their existence in terms of their own qualia, and as everyone who sees this is part of that qualia, we must be interconnected endpoints of one overarching meta-entity. I am you, and you are me, and we are all the same.

Alternate answer: Kaskaskia/Erie. Flyover land. Cornfields. 41-81, give or take a few. None of these are quite correct, but all of these are correct.

What are your hobbies? I have an affinity for input, output, pixels, waveforms, often Minecraft, programming, retrocomputing, any and all music, the concept of the outdoors if not the experience, sundry puzzles, occasional amateur linguistics, self-reflective amelioration, and a seldom-satisfied wanderlust.

Have you any pets? Two cats! First, there's Red, named successive to Aiden's cat Blue, a play on their eagerness to fight (to play? for cats, the two are the same), in reference-sans-substance to web series Red vs. Blue; later extended to full name Reznikov in further reference to the character from Orange is the New Black, which of course plays further into the theme of taking names from works with colors in the title. Red grew up on the streets, and Aiden and I met him in a train station. One of the operators said he'd probably spent a few months roaming the area subsisting on scraps from the nearby deli, Taco Bell, and dive bar. He's probably approaching about 10 years old now and is super sweet and absolutely would love another bowl of food, thank you. Hey. You haven't fed him yet. You were going to do that, right?

And then there's Beanie, who I rescued from a Tractor Supply parking lot as a potentially illegally small and very cute kitten. Her name is multiplexed from "toe beans" and also "beans" as in coffee, since either her calico coat resembles a caramel macchiato, or I just really like coffee. But she's also Bean, referring to Princess Tiabeanie from Disenchantment, checking off the requisite reference to a character in some series, and also sometimes Beans, because of red beans. (Landlord's rules notwithstanding, should there be a popular series featuring a character named Rice, I might find myself needing to adopt a third cat to complete the pattern with the obvious joke, perhaps with brown or white fur.)

What sports do you play/have played? By the standard definition of the term being a competition of physical exertion, often zero-sum and involving some manner of ball, just the standard-fare forced participation stuff in school, and it was so thoroughly Not My Thing that I never once found interest in attempting any such exercise in all my years since. Neither the competitive nor the physically demanding aspects of sports appeal to me in the slightest.

How tall are you? I am a tall glass of water, or so I've been told. I am a card-carrying Top Shelf Reacher.

Favorite subject in school? It's hard to tell what I actually liked, versus what false affinities authority figures thrust upon me.

Dream job? These are two entirely incompatible concepts. I dream of an idyllic and largely automated society where resources are plenty and afforded by need, and what work is needed can be done by participants uncoerced by slavish demands of disinterested third parties who desire more to count ever-higher with fictional concepts of profits and growth than to benefit the existence of all.