#threading: my quest of vengeance

[lordgaspard]

Snow falls gently from beyond the imposing panes - a taste of the Faerghan north, separated from their homelands, as Garreg Mach seems prone to doing, taking that which belongs elsewhere, and directing it here.

It was a matter of honor that drove Lonato to the cathedral, in a way.

He was a man of his worship, of the Goddess, regardless of his position in the world.

But... there was still fury that inflamed beneath the collected surface as the prayers began in the stiff, chilly morning.

This place... Lonato was not blind.

He could see the beauty of it all, appreciate it. The building was wonderful, draped in whites and golds, columns directing the flow of a viewer's eyes directly to up front, where the words of the Goddess rang freely. Objectively speaking, the cathedral was unparalleled. Deserving of its place in the center of worship... on paper.

Lonato knew the splendor came from the extreme greed of those on high, to hold their place over the rest of the continent in a vise's grip, applying pressure wherever needed, and pruning the branches that did not fit into the preferred shape anymore. Like Christophe was.

The snow outside picked up as Lonato watched from the pews, hands in his lap.

He would not be praying directly to the Goddess here. Not this morning, as the others do.

She would not hear anyone in a place so steeped in the sins of those in charge. The one in charge.

His solace in his faith would have to be carved himself, in private windows of his private life, secluded from the prying gazes of those who held devotion to the Archbishop as tantamount to devotion to the goddess.

"..."

Looks come his way, as of course they would, and yet Lonato stays his course. He knows that those of his place, both inside and outside the monastery, are meant to be pillars of faith, as steadfast as the columns that hold the roof of the cathedral on high. Him not in the prayers, leading, guiding, is sure to draw attention.

But that just makes his current actions more imperative. If his position led to influence... then he could weaponize it against her. Let the students form their own truths, severed from whatever lies she spewed in class.

Just so long as he can even convince one of her faults, he has made progress.

As his thoughts darken, so do the windows, as the snow catches wind and begins to truly fall.

It would be a cold day today.

The Innocent Can Never Last

[velvet4510]

“Charles Xavier did more for mutants than you’ll ever know. My single greatest regret is that he had to die for our dream to live.”

This line has been talked about time and again for good reason, but can we please highlight Sir Ian McKellen’s magnificent delivery of it??

He’s calm and collected for most of it, with seething rage simmering beneath the surface of the first sentence. But the moment he says the word “die,” his voice starts trembling and doesn’t stop until his thought is finished … which so effectively conveys Erik’s feelings at this moment. Erik refuses to let anyone see him openly vulnerable, so he does his best to appear stoic. Yet that little tremble in his voice shows us the truth: this man is Heartbroken. Devastated. Gutted. Bereft of the love of his life, he is now only holding onto his sanity and composure by a thread.

McKellen understands Erik so perfectly, and does so much with just two little sentences. He maintains the Magneto facade yet gives us the briefest glimpse of the true Erik, of that lonely, lost soul on a bleak quest for vengeance who found hope and joy and life again in the eyes and words and touch of a beautiful telepath so long ago … who is now utterly shattered and made lonely and lost once again by the sight and memory of that very telepath disintegrating in front of him.

McKellen managed to pack all that inner agony into those few words, keeping it suppressed yet present.

Bravo to the Legend.

(Also, shoutout to the lighting designers. Erik is walking in shadows in most of the scene, but the moment he starts talking about Charles, he moves into the light of a sunbeam.)

[solaquintette]

A Feminist Reading of Junko Touhou

The following is a slightly reworked thread I posted to the Everything App last year, using Euripides' Medea as a device to explore how Junko Touhou (from Touhou) subverts our expectations of stories of women seeking revenge.

One of the reasons I adore Junko and why her story features so heavily in my art is because of how she subverts the typical portrayal of female rage and revenge in literature and media. I often see her as Euripides' Medea-if-she-was-fucking-awesome. Traditionally, 'female rage' is depicted as something rooted in romantic betrayal, often directed at a man who has been unfaithful, with his mistress also falling victim to the scorned woman's wrath. While feeling anger over infidelity is obviously valid, literature often acts as though this is the most intense pain a woman can feel, as though it is the only justifiable reason for her to unleash her rage and seek revenge. Even when it comes to the loss of a child, stories frequently assign the role of avenger to the father, while the mother is left to express her grief in a quiet, restrained manner, expected to endure rather than act.

Junko completely rejects that mold. While her grudge is initially directed at Hou Yi, a man, it has nothing to do with romance, infidelity, or rejection (at least in Touhou canon; her mythological origins vary). She isn't heartbroken over love; she is a mother whose child was taken from her, and she is out for revenge, pure and simple. And once Hou Yi is out of the picture, her rage turns to Chang'e, not because of a petty rivalry, not because of beauty, not because of a man, but because she needs to avenge her son at any cost. There is no underlying romantic narrative, no love triangle, no traditional "woman scorned" trope. Her rage is unfiltered and all-consuming.

What makes Junko's depiction even more striking is that her grief and rage are not presented in a way that is easy to digest. They are not subtle, delicate, or aesthetically pleasing. They are messy, relentless, and brutal. Even her danmaku lacks beauty. It reflects the rawness of her pain, an expression of fury that refuses to be softened or romanticised. Junko does not conform to the palatable, almost sanitised versions of female vengeance often depicted in media, where anger is neatly packaged into clever manipulation or quiet suffering. Instead, she embodies something far more visceral and real.

There is something deeply relatable about Junko’s need for revenge, particularly for anyone who has ever experienced loss or injustice. Her rage seems directionless to those who haven't felt that kind of grief. After all, Chang’e didn’t personally kill her son. And yet, if you’ve ever suffered a wrong so profound that the thought of seeing the perpetrator go unpunished feels unbearable, Junko’s quest makes perfect sense. Justice is not always attainable, and the idea of having to simply accept that reality is its own kind of hell. Junko exhausted every possible avenue for vengeance, and ultimately, her pursuit is futile. The one person who remains as a final target for her rage cannot even be killed. And even if she could kill Chang’e, it would never bring her son back. Her story is a bleak but brutally honest portrayal of grief: there is no true resolution, no catharsis, just the endless, aching persistence of loss.

Her identity is almost entirely consumed by this loss. The idea of grief shaping or even erasing identity is something worth exploring on its own, but in Junko’s case, it is clear that she has stripped herself down to nothing but vengeance. In many ancient cultures, particularly in antiquity, a woman’s identity was intrinsically tied to her role as a mother. When Junko lost her son, she lost not only him but also the identity that had previously defined her. And yet, instead of fading into obscurity or assuming a different role, she reconstructed herself around her grief and her fury, becoming something entirely new, something purely vengeful, purely wrathful.

This is where the connection to Medea feels so strong. One of the reasons Medea is often regarded as a ‘feminist’ work is that she does not meet the expected tragic end for a woman who enacts revenge. She does not get sent to hell, does not beg for forgiveness, she isn't put back in her place by her husband. Instead, she ascends, outwitting Jason and becoming something greater in the process. In much the same way, Junko’s rage does not destroy her. It transforms her. Her purification and ascension into a divine spirit mirror Medea’s ascension. Her wrath does not lead to her downfall, it's the very thing that elevates her. That is such a subversive and powerful way to depict a woman’s quest for revenge.

Sometimes I feel guilty for always drawing Junko suffering, but there is so much depth and untapped potential in her character. Her story is so much more than finding a neat resolution to grief or a moral lesson about the perils of holding a grudge. i love you Junko touhou ❤️❤️❤️

[fangbangerghoul]

Rook As Companion Template

(Template stolen from @bearlytolerant here)

The Basics

Name: Ghoul Gender: Nonbinary (she/they) Faction: Shadow Dragons Lineage: Elf Class: Rogue Personality: Laissez Faire Firecracker Preferred Weapon: Jagged Daggers Preferred Trinket: 2 small smooth rocks to roll between their fingers Preferred Style of Clothing: Loose, skin breathing causal Rivian style Hero Special Ability: The Dastardly Bastard (Headbutt that stuns an enemy completely and vertebrates through the surrounding 4, weakening them) or Death’s Songbird (Draws all enemies, once surrounded cuts through them) Favorite Gift: Handmade plushies Pet: Calico Cat- Dahlia Acquaintance Bond Level Status: Tolerable Fiend Friend Bond Level Status: The Cleaners Good Friend Bond Level Status: Righthand Dagger Hero Bond Level Status: Shadowed Accomplice/The Grim Reaper Romance Bond Level Status: Ghastly Lover

Lighthouse Living

Room Type: Attic Room Decor: cluttered collected knives/randomly acquired items (rocks, pockets of dirt/leaves) Favorite Food: Rabbit stew Favorite Drink: Mead Favorite Hobby: drawing/reading Favorite Hangout Spot: Highest point of the lighthouse leaning over the balcony Interactions with Pet: Lounging on couch, reading Interactions with Assan: races in a circle Interactions with Manfred: pretends to find gold coins behind his ear

Relationships

Greetings: - Acquaintance: “what are you looking at?” - Good Friend: “trying to escape everyone?” - HOV: “With the both of us, victory is always certain.” - Romance: “Welcome, lovely” Thoughts on Companions: Neve: Secretly wants to be a princess, prefers to have her as a companion in a fight Bellara: Too cheerful but appreciates her lack of filter Harding: Stubborn and her cooking scares Ghoul Emmrich: Enjoys admiring bone structure and hearing his interesting lectures Davrin: Too noble but a good time Lucanis: Silent but intriguing, a bit of a comedian Taash: Her favorite arm-wrestling opponent and favorite spar partner, Ghoul also has gained an interest in Dragons Comments About Biggest Rival/s: If related to companion quest: - “I don’t care if we share blood, I won’t concede to his whims.” - “Sometimes I wonder what things would look like if our lives played out differently, but then I realize I don’t actually give a fuck and cannot wait to stab the bastard.” If in battle: - “C’mon motherfucker!” - “A shame you met me today.” - “I can afford another concussion just to knock you out.”

Banter Subject with Neve: If a Shadow Dragon should sleep with a Threads/Is a case ever really solved Banter Subject with Lace: How do plants stay alive/Archery tips Banter Subject with Bellara: Exchange of smutty romance recs/Dalish History Banter Subject with Davrin: Creatures and pet-ability/drinking stories Banter Subject with Taash: How to look like a Dragon/Exercise routines Banter Subject with Emmrich: Philosophy of serving Death/Can I have a skull for my room Banter Subject with Lucanis: Who has been awake the longest/Best kill moves Bonus Spite: ‘Yes and’ games/sharing vengeance stories

Unlock Personal Quest:

under construction and tied to Elgara Vallas

Romance

Flirt/s: "You wear things well.", "I admire how you hold your stance in battle.", "Think you can cut out someone's heart? .... Would you like to try mine sometime?" Date Location: Top of an abandoned tower in Mirathous Date Activity: Watching the sun set and the stars come out or being chased by Venatori Term of Endearment: Lovely, Beloved, My Heart Show of Affection: Hidden notes in their items, random sketches left in their room when not around, more physical proximity

[lordgaspard]

“…”

That… that…

It made sense - he wasn’t against the king, or kingdom, just the church.

He really took after his father… or his father took after him, postmortem.

But that just made this make more sense.

And his goal more moral.

“I am going to get my lance.”

Lonato knows that he will probably be attempted to be stopped - he’s counting on it.

Because he knows he’s stupid to charge in. But he’s not going to stop himself. Because he has due reason to expect.

“I am going to find out whatever crime he did… and reveal to the world the coverup. Show the higher-ups the… gross mistreatment of a knight that they did-”

He breathes in slowly, trying to calm down. Because he’s losing it. Badly.

And he knows he’s going down to hell.

He just needs to take Rhea down to hell with him.

“And make the archbishop pay! First the greed of the way the monastery is run, then the callousness of spending lives to cover whatever happened… and after all of that, to claim herself holy? The only holy place she is going is me driving her into Ailell myself!”

He is a sinner now. But the sins on his hands pale in comparison to those of her.

isnt it great? to run into your old boss while grocery shopping | lambert & lonato

closed starter for @lordgaspard

[xhollowfaerie]

silverv drabbles #4

a/n: thank you so much for the love on my cyberpunk stuff!! i get so excited whenever someone interacts with it. oh, in case it wasn't noticeable, i've started titling each scene based on songs, like how they name quests after songs in-game (I've also just always loved to name chapters based on the songs I listen to when I write them)

ps Arthur is Arthur Jenkins, your corpo boss who my V was in a toxic relationship with for a while because I love pain and coping with my personal baggage through writing :p

warnings: violence, feels, probably really bad French (please feel free to correct it lol all the Spanish/French/Japanese in my writing is scraped together from distant memories, reddit threads and online translators)

- Enter Sandman. 

Sleep with one eye open,

Gripping your pillow tight

V stumbled out of the tub of ice, teeth chattering. Her heartbeat was quickly rising in pace, feeling the heat inside her veins burning through to the tips of her fingers. They itched as her wet lashes blinked frozen drops down her face, feeling the grinding of her teeth.

Johnny’s back was turned to her, musing over their encounter with Alt. But he could feel it gnawing inside her.

Their anger.

The merc was reeling with the boils of wrath all over her, his, their consciousness. She saw Jackie, Evelynn, Alt; all the people Johnny had fucked over, all the people she had fucked over. So many wraiths circled her mind; the jealousy, the venom with which she spat words towards both Alt and Johnny, laced with his unshakable desire for vengeance. 

Her fingers danced before she reached out towards Maman Brigitte to shake her hand; her mantis blade sprung out, painting the screens behind her in blood. Blocking bullets, leaping and slicing - just like she had when she dealt with Oda. Except this time, she found herself reaching for her pistol more; and as she reloaded, her fingers unconsciously twirled it by the trigger, face twisting with a grin. Muscle memory.

Exit light,

Enter night

She went through the Voodoo Boys hideout, wiping out every last one of them. Her mind was a whirlwind; thoughts buzzing, speeding so quickly out of control, in so many directions, she could feel her brain burning aflame inside her skull. But that’s when a corpo performs best. Under pressure.

Every time they hacked her, she returned it tenfold; watching their heads sizzle as she short-circed them; the cold in her limbs, the numbness, it contrasted so bizarrely with the aggressive heat inside her head. 

Maybe she would never be able to shake the Arasaka out of her system. Maybe she was too indoctrinated. Maybe she was too much of a natural.

She’d fucking murder every last one of them. They’d started this whole fucking shitshow- everything, every death, every thread that had tied her and Johnny together and got so many people killed - cost her everything, not once but fucking TWICE.

A corpo never fails a contract.

Tie up every loose end. No witnesses. Just a message.

They’d fucked her over. Agent V had long ago learned that if she let it slide, they’d do it again. And Valerie Lovett was just about fucking sick of people having the balls to try double-crossing her.

Take my hand,

Off to Never-Neverland

“Careful, V - Placide’s just up a-” “Don’t.”

Johnny turned to face her in surprise, furrowing his brows behind his sunglasses at the sudden order. He scowled in aggravation, but the look on V’s face left him cold.

That… wasn’t V. But he remembered her, from her memories. 

Agent V walked out, a trail of corpses in her wake.

“Placide! Mon frère.  Souviens-tu de ce ranyon? Là pour rendre la pareille, sale fils de pute.” (Placide! My brother. Remember this ranyon? I’m here for payback, you son of a bitch.)

Of course she spoke French. Fucking one percenters.

Defeating him had been too easy; it was almost as if he had given up before her blade even made the first cut.

She growled as she hovered over him, pulling her pistol out.

“This one’s for Jackie and Evelyn, you piece of shit.”

- Dissolve.

Valerie collapsed the moment she exited the church, hands shaking. Her eyes widened, watching the metallic left arm tremble in front of her as if it were her own.

“Fuck.” Their voices overlapped.

She trembled in fear, feeling the familiar burn of tears in her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. Her first thought was-

“Johnny.”

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed into a pulp inside her chest, heaving desperately. Her body fell flat against the floor, writhing in pain. “-I’m, dyin’-!”

He grabbed her wrist. She couldn’t search his eyes beneath the sunglasses. The hold on her heart squeezed tighter as she replayed the image of Alt taking his glasses off in her head. For a moment, she pretended it had been her.

“U-rgh, J-Johnny!”

Fuck. Was this how she was going to go out? Crying out his name? She let her head collapse against the floor as tears streamed down her face, reaching out for a man that wasn’t there. 

She had nobody. And as much as she wanted to imagine Jackie in Johnny’s stead, the rockerboy remained glued to her retinas, stretching his arms out to hold onto her. Strange. So strange, how she felt the cold of his metal limb sizzle on her feverish skin.

“You ain’t dyin’ yet.”

The look on her face must’ve been pathetic; no, Johnny thought, you're not, and somehow, his confidence that she’ll be alright soothed the terror sprawling out of her as her eyes closed, feeling him lift her in his arms. The words left his mouth on instinct before he could even process them.

“I got you.”

-

V felt the bile rise from her throat as she woke up, the faintest hint of a salty breeze filling her lungs before she spilled the contents of her stomach onto the tiles. The seemingly pleasant scent disappeared entirely, replaced by the more familiar stench of the irreparably-polluted Pacific and her own vomit. She rolled over, looking up at the bottle of pills in her hand. He spoke first.

“That smell’s the sea breeze.”

A memory, she realized. She actually smelled the real sea for a second, or, at least, how Johnny remembered it. The mere sight of him leaning over the railing relaxed her entire body back against the wall, letting out a soft sigh.

“...Johnny!”

A conclusion. Relief. Thank God, or, whoever, whatever the fuck. No… If the sand was starting to run out of her hourglass, she wanted to start saying things. Things she was so afraid to say before. Her voice was coarse, but so much gentler than he was used to. A gentleness he had witnessed seldomly, mostly in her memories.

“Thanks.”

Proud of you, chica. Livin’ well, eh? 

A small smile coated her lips, engraving the scent of Johnny’s ocean into her own mind - or encouraging theirs to intertwine. 

“Don’t mention it. Get up. Pacific’s beautiful this time of day.”

She crawled over to the railing and used it for support, straightening up to her feet. His voice sounded distant, almost dreamy. She couldn’t tell if she was still woozy from the fight, his memories, Alt, the Relic killing her, or her deepest, most hidden desires surfacing against her will, enveloping her mind in a drunken stupor.

“Almost flatlined by that attack…”

Johnny didn’t glance at her. He looked out towards the sea, and she saw small glimmers of cobalt, felt the soft warmth of the sun on her skin before the gray tones of current reality set back in.

“Almost.”

She smiled again, leaning forward to rest atop the half-wall, propping her head against her shoulder and marveling at the view before stealing a quick look at him.

For a second, he looked younger, like he had in 2013. She saw Alt kissing him; wondered how it had felt like to be on the receiving end.

“You’re right” she breathed, shamelessly losing herself in staring at the profile of his face, trailing over his lips.

“Hard to take my eyes off it.”

He filled her in on the location, but her curiosity was eating away at her. She couldn’t help asking about the pills, which prompted a surprisingly offended response.

“Got this strange impression your comatose self wanted to get rid of me. Actually put up a good fight.”

She didn’t remember. But, somehow, he did. When he tried to pick her up, she kicked and screamed against him. The attack had been her. Lashing out.

“GET OFF! DON’T TOUCH ME, ASSHOLE!”

“V, fuck’s gotten into you?! Let me help-”

“Like you helped Alt?! Rogue? What am I, the next little fuck and run on your list? Gonna pump and dump me too? I've played this song and dance before, Johnny. I can't- not again!”

She had been furious with him before, but the shared feeling inside them was unlike anything else. Hatred, which wasn’t new either - except for the fact that now, their psyches were becoming so linked together, he hypothesized that this manifestation of her outburst towards him was his own self-hatred lashing out in the way that would hurt him the most. In her image. 

She scratched gashes into his arms with her nails, bit hard into his ‘ganic hand; hissed and shrieked at him. The betrayal in her eyes left him dumbfounded. She couldn’t have possibly been this furious just from witnessing him being an asshole to his ex? It almost sounded like she was projecting her own shitty ex on him, too. Maybe they both were.

Something stuck with him. The way she spoke within the cyberspace… the way she mentioned Alt. He couldn’t tell what the fuck she was so mad about. Was he a piece of shit? Sure, everyone knew that. But she was almost as catty with Alt as she was sympathetic, uniting against him, and it gave him a headache. As much as he considered himself a connoisseur of the feminine, he was in way over his head. He’d never realize just how clueless he could be, something pointed out by every woman he had been with. Crying, usually. Before or after slapping him.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

- Three Nights.

They were slowly approaching his old room; he glitched in and out, his image and voice buzzing with static as he waited at the end of the balcony. 

V collapsed again. When she blinked, he appeared in front of her, kneeling; she almost made out the painting of concern across his features, right as he glitched away again, characteristically crossing his arms in front of himself and waiting for her to move.

Her heart filled to the brim when she pulled the dog tags out, gripping them in disbelief. He wondered what it was that made her heart beat so fast when she looked back at him, draped dramatically over the back of the chair.

Johnny was starting to worry that maybe she was finally losing it. The expression she regarded him with was driving him insane. What was that? Just gratitude? Obviously, she was still out of it, because the way she laughed and her lashes fluttered at him with a genuine smile as she sat on the kitchen floor, that floor he had passed out so numbly on so many times, made his stomach flip in the weirdest way. Maybe he just needed to disillusion himself. Remind himself what this really was. A hostage situation. Which way, neither of them could fuckin’ tell.

“Would you take a bullet for me?”

Why did she laugh like that? So… sweetly? Fuck, she was so fucking frustrating. 

“Dumbass question...”

“Answer it-”

“I would, yeah.”

Not even a heartbeat’s worth of thinking it through, though her voice trembled. With what, he couldn’t tell - or that’s what he chose to lie to himself.

He looked away when he pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. What the fuck was up with him? What was that high?

Reliving his memories with Alt, he thought. Had to be. That familiar feeling he remembered so strongly. Freedom, albeit brief. Passion, thirst… For, for…

Oh, how he had loved holding her hand. Not that he'd ever admit it. He never did. No matter how rough the sex; he was always the one to reach his hand out first, but hers always met his, every time. He missed their weight on his digits. 

His fingers balled into a fist.

Too bad he fucked it up. There was no such thing as fairytale endings; certainly not for a cosmically fucked ex-corpo merc with more trauma than high heels and the cyberpsycho rockerboy terrorist in her head. They were probably the only ones whose baggage could rival each other's, in a horrendously messed up, ironic way.

So whatever the fuck this is you think you're feelin’, Johnny, quit it, his subconscious snarled.

Their brief discussion of Johnny’s past seemed to untangle the tension between them; she made herself comfortable in his old hideout, feeling the intensity of the previous sensations dissipating as she listened to his voice. Despite his protests, she still collapsed onto one of the filthy mattresses, looking up at the spinning fan with a loose grin, closing her eyes and looking out the window to the sky. He almost found it funny; a prim and proper corpo lady, half a century later, laying in his old bed, wearing a ragged Burn Corpo Shit tee (thank fuck she stopped ‘ironically’ wearing that fucking Samurai tshirt in public, that shit was so ridiculous) and worn leather pants. That was an image he wouldn’t be able to get out of his head. For a multitude of reasons.

“Just five minutes, Mister Silverhand…”

He groaned in disgust at the address, shaking his head.

“You’re fuckin’ hopeless! Just don’t rot away in here. Or do. Maybe I don’t give a shit, after all.”

V giggled, drifting off to sleep. Her honeyed voice echoed Alt’s. “You’re a terrible liar, Johnny Silverhand.”

Three nights, at the motel, 

Under streetlights, in the City of Palms

Call me what you want, when you want, if you want

And you can call me names if you call me up

She wondered if he could see her dreams as she pictured the two of them at the beach, hitting each-other with beach balls, splashing salty seawater into each-other’s eyes, squealing when he’d lift her up from beneath the waves, smearing sunscreen on each-other’s faces.

Johnny sat on the edge of the mattress by her side, wide-eyed. He didn’t process the damp trails on his face, too focused on the hesitance in his hand as he dared to reach out and push a pink strand of hair out of her eyes. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

His mechanical fingers cupped her face for way too short a moment before pulling back as if she was molten iron, burying his face in his hands.

He didn’t deserve any of her heart. He didn’t deserve a single part of her, and here he was, taking over her entirety. Killing her, excruciatingly. Too quickly to ever say everything he should have, but not fast enough to spare her the pain. Wiping out her consciousness. Replacing her.

That wasn’t a fucking dream. That was an old-ass memory, corroding as their minds blended together. He couldn’t remember who the girl was anymore. One of many. He must’ve still been in highschool. Or was it college? 

Now, that girl was V.

But it couldn’t be. Not after her.

Johnny exhaled a shaky breath into his hands. He couldn’t even fathom the pain of losing Valerie, too.

I get my feelings involved, she stopped returning my calls

Her flaws turned into walls and barricades

And I’m too far gone in all the wrong ways,

And now every long day is a bad one

I can’t make you call or make you stay or take you off the pedestal

-

“Feelin’ better” V groaned as she woke up from her nap. She was surprised to see Johnny looking down at her from the window. Distracted, or, like he was burying something deep.

“Still feel a sharp somethin’ near your heart” he commented.

Valerie felt its uncomfortable jab as she bit down into her tongue. 

That somethin’ had so many names, she’d lost count. Her family. Arthur. Jackie. Alt.

She moved closer and inched a hand towards his sunglasses. Johnny blinked in surprise, but the realization left him just as soon as it had hit, actively shrouded by V’s consciousness as her arm dropped back at her side and she lowered her gaze to lace her high heeled boots back up. Her voice shrunk, hazed with an old sentiment of bitterness. His eyes caught onto her bullet necklace, despite having seen it every second of every day since waking up in her head. Now, it almost stung.

“Doubt that’s ever goin’ away.”

[deathbydarkelves]

hi! i just read through your AU document and im really curious about the version where your ocs are big players. how do they alter the course of events?

Thank you so much for your ask! <3 I hope you knew to expect a wall of text when you sent it.

I call that version/timeline the “Black Rain timeline.” Also the name of a future fic, also Cathala and Tarinne’s ship name, because I like to make things confusing they’re my lens into it.

The answer to this will get longer and more detailed as I continue writing and spin more threads, and they don't really come into the limelight until after my current WIP, The Smoke Still Lingers, but they leave their little butterfly effect ripples before that too. I'll go over the big ones, post-Smoke, because you can line that up best with the prose part I wrote in my doc. Those are also the ones I've thought out the most.

First chronologically and the most relevant to my latest art post, is that they both become members of a fellowship(/hunting party) consisting of other various individuals who, each for their own reasons, want Sylvanas dead. Horde, Alliance, and neutral parties alike. From the Horde perspective, since that may not be as immediately obvious: She may not have intentionally burned Teldrassil but she still grossly overextended to get there, indirectly caused the deaths of many Horde soldiers by virtue of calling them into service, directly caused the deaths of others who’d been on Teldrassil when it happened, and generally (in the eyes of many) misused the Horde’s resources. Not to mention the entirety of the Fourth War. But granted, either she made the first move or the Alliance would.

Plenty of Horde citizens are content to just be thankful she’s gone, but there are some like Kolga (the orc in the middle ⬇️) for whom it’s more personal. Her daughter died in the War of Thorns and there wasn’t anything left to bury. For various reasons she sees Sylvanas as the one responsible, and wants to do something about it.

Anyway… this fellowship will slowly grow as its members happen upon each other on their own little vengeance quests, converging one by one on the same trails. They’ll eventually sail to Northrend and cross paths with Tyrande and Maiev, because realistically how could they not? And with that much more manpower, the whole squad will overcome challenges and learn things Tyrande and Maiev in the other timeline do not. I… don’t know what most of those things are yet lol, but there’s a big one I know for sure:

Tarinne has a condition called thor’drinn, or “wolf’s fury”. I linked my explanation post but in short(er): a very small percentage of kaldorei retain the ability to berserk from their troll ancestors, but due to limited understanding of this concept and general taboo around the whole thing, it’s believed to be a divine curse from Goldrinn. Might be a bit of both, honestly. Those with it, called “wolf-touched”, are exiles or Wardens’ prisoners at best, or outright killed at worst — if the physical and mental stress of their first berserking episode doesn’t kill them first. Trolls regenerate and can keep up with the damage they cause to their own body. Kaldorei don’t.

Tarinne got lucky. She survived her first (and her second, and her third, and her fourth), but that just means she has to live life always hiding this, hoping the next one happens somewhere out of sight, lest she slip up and it all comes to an abrupt end. Even Cathala doesn’t know this about her; that’s how deeply ingrained the shame and taboo are.

So of course it's

really fucking bad

when a battle in Northrend goes horribly awry and she loses it in front of not just Cathala but Maiev.

It is only because Tyrande’s also there that Maiev lets her live. What Tyrande said then is what actually leaves the ripples (paraphrasing because I haven’t written this scene yet lol): “She’s been an unwavering ally until now. Kaldorei through and through. The Goddess saw nothing to warn me about. It may be worth reconsidering some of our old ideas around her… around thor’drinn.”

Maiev’s not happy whatsoever but Tyrande outranks her, so that’s that. And after Tarinne fights in the final battle against Sylvanas and returns with (most) of the fellowship to Kalimdor as a hero (to most), well… her secret’s out. “Just” among those in the fellowship, but that’s still a wolf-touched kaldorei’s worst fear.

Society and especially elven society changes slowly, but a woman with thor’drinn being not just known but pardoned by the High Priestess herself (anonymously) was simply unimaginable before this whole debacle. It’s gonna change things. In a couple… centuries maybe there’ll be real changes which actually try to help those with it instead of just telling them to “repress it or die”. Better than nothing…?

Lastly, and completely unrelated, is Cathala and her weird backstory. Fewest words possible: un/lucky shipwreck survivor who got stuck on Pandaria for fifty years. After Mists, she’s stayed under the radar mostly, content with just being “kinda weird” and something of a mild curiosity to most of those around her. But after secession, and after a lot of real convenient trade routes were cut… suddenly this almost-nobody with an even more convenient tie to the difficult-to-infiltrate pandaren looks real enticing if you’re up at the top of the organized crime pecking order like Ylrith is. There’s a lot to be smuggled into and out of Pandaria, a lot of underworld connections to be made, all locked behind post-war isolationism and a language all but impermeable to even magical translation, if Lady Luck would just give her an in. And oh, would you look at that…

Not really sure what that will lead to yet, but it’ll certainly have some kind of effect on the overall relationship between Kal’thalas and Pandaria. And this is also me saying to my older followers who thought I did: no, I have not forgotten about Ylrith. She’s just gonna stay in the background for a while until the time is right, like she always does :3c

[lordgaspard]

"..."

Propaganda.

He can hear so much of it fed into her words, oozing from each kindhearted syllable.

And she genuinely believed every word of it.

He... couldn't fault her for that, however. She was clearly raised to believe what she was told. It wasn't a moral failing on her part.

Just further indication of the church's sins.

And it meant he would need to take a... gentler touch. Not by much, but a little.

"I imagine it is. I have worked... not with the church, but around it for a long time. Even from those I met, there was a tight-knit feel to them. If they saw you as their family, I don't doubt for a second they meant it."

Insofar as they meant that she would be made into a pliable puppet. A marionette on their strings.

But he would help her cut herself free from the puppetmaster's sway.

In time.

He couldn't reveal the truth to her, to everyone.

He had to take this one step at a time.

"The monastery is wonderful, I would agree. Though there are some complaints I hold with it, there are many parts I can see the merit in."

The location of it was tactically sound. The foundations were solid to withstand a siege (as it had) in... less pieces than it would otherwise.

But voicing those wouldn't aid his goals.

"It accepting more people from overseas has been wonderful for learning more than just the Faerghus I knew before."

Which was a genuine compliment he held for it, mind! The intercontinental system was one he could not claim disappointed him.

...Mostly because it let him find more who did not believe the system he had put so much against.

"...Though I wish the cathedral was slightly less... gaudy, for lack of a better term. My manor's own chapel is much simpler, and I find it makes me feel closer to the Goddess than all the marble and gold in the world could. Is greed not something to be avoided in Her name, after all?"

A simpler noticing, built off of his understanding of customs. A small seed of doubt to be planted.

Now to see if the soil took it.

friendly friends hopefully

continuation from here

[dreamweaversfavsandthoughs]

Rick and Morty S7 Ep. 5: Unmortricken

(Revenge is a dish best served a la mode—or something like that)

Here there be spoilers…

My Favs

The Rick Prime saga has been resolved.

I am overall happy that Harmon and Co. decided to resolve this story now rather than have it milked for another season or two. On top of that, the story was given a somewhat satisfying conclusion or as satisfying a conclusion as a revenge story possibly can be.

Evil Morty

Evil Morty being pulled in as a reluctant ally was not on my season 7 bingo card nor was a glimpse of his origin story but here we are. It was great seeing Morty on the same level intellectually as a Rick and our Rick treats him as an equal. I don’t think we’ll see the last of him since Rick owes him for saving his life and Evil Morty has the schematics to the Omega Device.

Uncle Slo Mobius

I cracked up at both Rick and Rick Prime getting very emotional at the wiping out of Slo Mobius over infinite dimensions. RIP Slo Mobius, gone in all realities but lives on in our hearts.

“You suck at eating pussy!”

And Rick totally owns it, but to be fair, he was young. Satisfying your partner is something you have to learn, even if you’re the smartest man in the universe.

Rick beat down of Rick Prime

When I say this is one of my favorite parts of the episode I mean that I appreciate that I found it gut-churning and difficult to watch. It’s brutal and the animation of Rick Prime’s face as it becomes less and less recognizable as human coupled with a blood-soaked Rick coming out of the room with the light completely gone from his eyes. It’s effective visual storytelling. This was the only possible outcome to Rick’s lifelong quest for vengeance. It did not end triumphantly with a hero’s welcome but, instead, a whimper.

My Not Favs

The Rick Prime saga has been resolved.

So I put this down as a not favorite because there is a part of me that wishes we had the cat-and-mouse game go on a little while longer. Ultimately, the show isn’t really about him or the revenge quest but I wish we had some more time with the character. I say this knowing the season is not over yet and anything could happen but, also, there seems to be a sort of finality to the whole thing that makes me suspect that we are done with him.

My Thoughts

The end of an era.

I had read on an animation news blog that this episode marks the midpoint of the 70 episode order that was created back in 2018 and that, if all goes according to plan, the contract will be completed in three years. I don’t know if it was intentional to have this episode air in the order that it did but I can’t help but notice that it feels like the story is transitioning into a new era. There is a feel that they are starting to wind down and get ready for a potential end to the series ( I know Dan Harmon has expressed continuing to create new seasons indefinitely, but nothing has been confirmed and they are getting close to finishing the writing portion of the order so…).

It makes sense that Rick Prime would be solved as soon as it did and, honestly, I kinda expected them to resolve that thread this season or next. The reason being is that the story of Rick and Morty is not about villains and revenge quests, but about a man who is too smart and too worldly and so ground down by life, trying to find family and connections even when he claims it’s meaningless and that he’s above it all. Rick has sort of been released from this burden and now can forge a new purpose and a new pathway with the rest of his family by his side even if, mentally and emotionally, he is not ready to do that just yet. Also, this episode has opened the door to some new lore that could carry us to the series finale ( if it does end in season 10). I’m specifically thinking about the Omega Device.

Evil Morty has the schematics that he plans on keeping on hand to buy himself some much needed peace and Rick owes him for resurrecting him and neutralizing Rick Prime for the final beat down. Also, if a device could be created to wipe out someone in every timeline then maybe it could be used to create an anti-Omega Device that could bring back those who have been wiped out. Which means we are clearly going to resurrect Uncle Slo Mobius so the two of them can go get some of that elusive McDonald’s Szechuan Sauce!

Or Rick might try to resurrect Diane as an attempt to “complete” his family. Obviously, this is just speculation, but at the same time, with the information we have this feels like a natural next step in Rick’s very slow progression to finally healing from the past and accepting the family that is with him in the present. Healing is rarely linear and I could see Rick falling into another self-destructive hole that he has fooled himself into thinking we solve all his woes. Past family and present family together. Having his cake and eating it too! What could go wrong?

[stewblog]

Monkey Man

Dev Patel was already one of the most promising and interesting talents within his generation of actors. But with Monkey Man, Patel shows he’s got the chops to be just as interesting and talented behind the camera as well. 

Monkey Man is being marketed as “John Wick But In India.” And while it’s clear that Patel has taken at least some action lessons to heart from the Wick films (a character in the movie even specifically name drops the character), this inaugural directing effort from the Slumdog Millionaire star is something much more jagged and raw, both in terms of action and vibe. 

Patel plays “Kid,” a name he’s never actually called as he only ever offers “Bobby” as an identifier. The name is swiped at a moment’s notice from the container of kitchen cleaner he’s using, but it’s meaningless. He has no identity. He has no life. He has only a heart of rage and vengeance burning inside of him. His sole mission is to kill the policeman who killed his mother and destroyed his village, and he’ll go to any lengths to accomplish this. 

What ensues is, at its core, a fairly standard and by-the-numbers revenge flick. Desperation leads to anger, anger leads to failure, then training, then a final and thrilling showdown. Every beat is familiar, bordering on rote. What fuels Patel’s film, though, is less its common tropes and more the ways he fills in the gaps between these all-too-familiar elements. Monkey Man is a movie with a lot on its mind and Patel wants very much to say meaningful things about the state of India’s politics, religion, poverty and corruption. I am (as it is likely quite obvious) not even passively knowledgeable on India’s political state, nor the state of its Hindu leaders. Some of the specifics and nuance may be lost to a Westerner like me, but the heat of Patel’s anger at these institutions remains palpable. 

Does that anger translate to depth? Obviously Patel is using this film as an outlet for his frustrations, but it’s difficult for someone in my position to gauge just how much he actually has to say beyond “The State Of Things Is Bad.” Not that the audience is owed more than that, but it often feels like the message comes at the expense of making the contained elements feel more fleshed out. Bobby is little more than a cipher. He goes for most of the film never having a meaningful interaction with anyone that he wasn’t using as a means to an end in his quest for violence. There are flashes to his youth, fleeting memories of his mother and the heroic tales of the Hindu god Hanuman that color his childhood. I suspect this is part of Patel’s grand statement, that a heart hollowed out by anger is only capable of vengeance, but it does make the character less interesting on the whole.

Despite this, and the film’s somewhat sluggish start, Monkey Man is still a remarkably confident first outing. Patel paints the screen with a palette of deep hues and a visceral attention to the details of a life lived amid the slums. It’s a film that feels visceral in its depiction of a world that is inherently violent, even (and especially) when led by those professing peace. Anchoring it all is Patel’s tightly wound performance. Whatever shortcomings there are in Bobby’s characterization on the page, it is at least partially ameliorated by the fire found in Patel’s eyes from beginning to end. 

If nothing else, Monkey Man is a terrific calling card for future projects, an undeniable statement of arrival and intent. Whatever shortcomings are threaded through this first film, it’s evident that Patel has the drive, chops and vision to be something greater. I can’t wait to see what his next work will be. 

[turtlemagnum]

morrowind is such a funny game in terms of who you can and cannot kill (& who you shoulf and shouldnt kill!). like, very rarely will killing somebody completely fuck you over. even if you get the little thread of prophecy popup, you can usually figure something out (like killing vivec and the back path of the main quest!). like, im pretty sure youre not supposed to kill king helseth and his goons, but A, he tried to have you killed several times for no fucking reason and therefore deserves vengeance and B, his ring is legit one of the most broken pieces of equipment in the game and basically trivializes any magical opponent due to the 100% resist magic, not even mentioning the constant regen health and fatigue effects that basically make you goddamn immortal. not only does that fucker have it coming, but his gear is goddamn indispensible so i've literally always killed him in my playthroughs, and never intend on not killing him. and you can just do that!!! you get the stupid little thread of prophecy popup but he's literally so murderable that i cant not recommend chopping his head off and playing kickball with it, and while the story of tribunal is a bit more esoteric to figure out with him dead, thats morrowind babey!!! looking shit up is always valid, the game basically necessitates it!!!

but yeah like, imagine this. you, the player, either wanna max out enchanting because you wanna max out all the skills or because you know how most gameplay important magic should be done through enchanting anyways because it's just straight up more powerful and spammable than normal spells. the obvious answer is to train under a master, right? but you know what youve gotta do to train under the master enchanter in morrowind?? gotta go through a whole ass dungeon, find a specific enemy, MAGICALLY CALM HIM, raise his disposition to 100 so he wont just attack you after the calm spell runs out, and finally after all of that do you have the damn privelage of becoming optimal at one of the most useful and technical skills of the game. and thats not even the only random enemy that's a trainer!!! how the fuck did anybody figure this shit out??? god i love this game

[lordgaspard]

A relic that could take down the church.

That was one of the only things that had caught his ear at first. Of course it was. If he could use it, there was so much that could happen. He could have justice.

But that would wait. Because it was too early to end this masquerade. The climax was approaching, but it was still the rising action. Too many allies were still needed to be made, and beyond that, the church was in too good a stance.

They were still the 'bastion of all that is good.'

A title he couldn't wait to reveal to be a lie bigger than any of the stunts he pulled.

But, again, not yet.

"...Just the right size."

There was too many staff members, not enough attention from the higher-ups. Just enough space for extra sets to be left about, perfect to slip into and walk the streets as if he belonged.

After all, these were the types of nobility Lonato could never respect - he was not 'chosen by the goddess,' he wasn't 'deserving of the world's money,' he was a knight. He was a noble because the people liked him, not just the Goddess approving an ancestor from long long long ago. These were proof the system was broken, beyond just the church. But one step at a time. Bring her down, and then the dominoes should all follow.

"Find one that fits you?"

His voice comes out quieter than normal - as it was for his darkened departures to deal with deals. His voice for operations.

This was just a branch of the operations.

"These people talk far too much, from the brief I was given. Information should be much easier to gather than elsewhere."

And... who knows? They are the financiers of the monastery.

Slip a few carefully chosen, poisoned words into the well of information, and...

The Knights of Seiros may have to lay off some of their soldiers from budget cuts.

@yukyunotabibito

Smooth Operators

[the-bar-sinister]

Bleeding, Broken, Mended (75557 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 13/16

Summary: Law is certain that he was 'rescued' just so Doflamingo could kill him himself, but Doffy has other plans. As far as he's concerned, Law's decade-long quest for revenge was nothing more than a sad misunderstanding. He wants to remind Law how things used to be. He wants to find a way to bring Law back into the fold-- back to him-- forever.

catch up here

-

Law made his way through the ship after another quick hug from Bepo, who promised while yawning not to fall asleep. 

Law had been told to meet Doffy in his cabin where they'd had dinner the night before last. Law remembered his desk had been mostly covered in comics and tone dials, but there'd been more serious paperwork too there, on reflection.

Law made his way through the ship, nodding to some of the lower ranked staff, easing his way down the hall all the way to Doflamingo's door with memories of his room compared to the one from way back in the day and the wonder at just what this 'secret mission' could be.

As he arrived at the tightly shut door, he knocked three times. The handle clicked and the door opened inward.

"Come in." Doffy's rich voice intoned from deeper in the room. Law saw a glimmer of the shining threads that had opened the door.

Law walked in, brushing his fingers along the threads as he walked into the room with a smirk. "Corazon, reporting in." 

Doflamingo beamed brightly, turning toward him from where he was sitting at his desk. He gestured and the threads under Law's fingers trembled like plucked guitar strings. The door closed behind him.

"My Corazon," he purred. He leaned his chin on his hand and laughed. "Thanks for making time for lil' ol' me."

That casual, teasing nature that Law remembered from when he was young seemed back in full force. The same one that Rosi had tried to convince him was nothing but a manipulator's mask. Before Rosi had gotten into his heart, he couldn't fathom it being anything but genuine. Playful, teasing, casual— affectionate in his very Doffy way. Now that he was free of the specter of vengeance, he could let himself believe it.

"I thought about slipping away for a nap." He teased in a deadpan. "But I decided it wasn't worth you pouting for the next four hours." 

"My Corazon, already putting my feelings over his need for rest," Doffy laughed again and stood, leaning on the back of his chair, looking Law over. It was hard to say just what he might be thinking, the way he smiled at him, his ever present shades shining in the light.

Law walked over to lean against his desk, looking into the sheen of his sunglasses through the borrowed pair of Derringer's. "That's how you know you picked the right guy for the job, Doffy." 

"It very much is," he agreed. "Are those Derringer's shades? We are going to have to get you a new wardrobe."

Law pushed them up.

"Yeah, Pica's guy grabbed them for my hangover. They look pretty terrible on me, don't they?" He shook his head. "....a new wardrobe, huh?" 

"The sunglasses look fine, but they don't really suit your look, do they?" He leaned toward him, looming forward. "And I'd say you need a new wardrobe— we didn't exactly fish you out of the sea with a trunk full of clothes, did we?"

"True enough," Law looked down at his coat with a huff. "All my clothes went down with the ship. Guess if I ever had the time to reinvent my look it's now." 

"I can't think of a better time, truly. We'll see what we can do next time we're in port." Doffy chuckled and there was a nostalgic tone to his voice as he continued. "You used to favor those very serious suits. But I notice you're more casual lately."

That took him back, back to his youth dressed in the button up suits with the bowtie and shorts. All in grim and serious colors. Baby 5 used to tease him relentlessly over it, only to grow up to almost always wear a maid outfit— something he gave her shit for the night before.

"Yeah, heh. I dunno, at first it was just more comfortable while pirating, Doffy. Then I kinda wound up liking it, you know? D'ya think it suits me?" 

"It suits you in its way. I think I'd die of shock to see you wearing something in my kind of bright colors anyway," Doffy chuckled. "But we'll see what we can do. You can try on a dozen styles and discard them all, Corazon. We'll see what fits you."

He took a couple of slow strides forward, and slipped his arm around Law's shoulder. "But sadly, we can't talk fashion all day, today."

Law felt that increasingly familiar flush crawl over his face as he was swept under the flamingo's wing. "Yeah we can probably save that till we actually fucking make port… we've got business today, right?"

Corazon. Hearing it still gave him a little thrill every time. 

"We do," he nodded, leaning down toward him. "Which do you want to tackle first, the mundane, or the unusual? I'm leaving the order in your hands. Neither one is time sensitive."

Law raised his eyebrow. "Mundane first. I'd like a leadup if you're gonna ask me something fucking weird." 

Looming down over him, Law could see all the sharp lines of Doflamingo's handsome face, the barest hint of scar tissue visible under the rim of his sunglasses. He could smell the cocktail of subtle scents that surrounded him– perfume and hair oil and aftershave, and the special oil that Law remembered was used to groom his feathered coat. It was much the same as Law remembered from his younger days. He'd smelled it in Dressrosa, when he'd been dangerously close to Doflamingo, but then it had only been a distraction.

"Mundane it is. Let's pull you up a chair and I'll bring you up to speed with Cross Guild."

Dammit— it was a distraction now as it was in Dressrosa. Less dire, less of a threat to his barely held resolve. But still a damn distraction that swam in his head. 

He was handsome. The nostalgic smell wasn't helping as he lightly grit his teeth and grabbed a chair to flop down into with a broad grin. 

"Yeah. Alright. Cross Guild, right? Alliance of former Warlords that I wasn't invited to." 

Doffy chuckled and drew up his own chair close to Law's, relaxing back into it with his arms crossed behind his head. "In Croc's defense, it was all coming together while you were still hooked up with Straw Hat. Oh, speaking of which, it's not Buggy in charge."

"Makes sense why he didn't send an envoy then," Law chuckled darkly, before tilting his head "no shit? The papers are all calling him Crocodile and Mihawk's 'Genius Jester master' or some shit." 

Doflamingo snorted and giggled, shaking his head. "Genius Jester Master– yes, I've seen the papers. The funniest thing about them is how they're driving those two crazy— but they won't do anything to correct them because Buggy's popularity makes him a useful idiot."

"And here I just thought they liked his stupid face," Law smirked, leaning on his hand. "So they're using his popularity to bolster the rep of Cross Guild, which you're a part of." 

"Exactly that. He's the face man, though admittedly, he speaks up when he has an opinion. Much to Crocodile's annoyance."

Doffy chuckled, and launched into a deeper explanation of Cross Guild— how it had been Crocodile's idea, and had come together in the first rumbling of the dissolution of the warlord system. He talked about the bounty system, meant to undermine confidence in the marines and grow loyalty among the populace, and Crocodile's ambition to seduce a few famous marines over to the side of piracy. He told Law that it was meant to become a military power— and eventually even a nation state or pirates— that could rival and thwart the world government.

"And we've even got a hidden ace there," Doffy said, putting a finger to his lips. "Thanks to yours truly. The question is just when to play the card. I'm leaving it to Crocodile's discretion. I shared it with him as thanks for saving my hide when they were gonna throw me into Impel Down."

Law leaned forward, hands folding together as he looked up at Doflamingo with genuine curiosity. Cross Guild was a hell of a lot more ambitious than he'd thought, only hearing about it in the papers and rumors.

A dedicated military and social power of pirates who were taking steps to destabilize the World Government's seat of power and 'hand' in the world by taking direct bounties on marines. It was smart. He couldn't help but be impressed by Crocodile— a man he'd had a few run-ins here and there with and always respected— .and now it seemed Law was a solid part of it.

At 'Impel Down' , on the other hand, that made him wince a little involuntarily. The sting of guilt and terror at the government sanctioned torture site and Doflamingo's near brush with it caused his smile to falter.

He tried to push it down by asking, "...so what's the ace, Doffy?" 

Doffy's smile grew teeth, and he leaned conspiratorially toward Law, bumping his shoulder against him. "You wanna know? It's a big secret. Same thing that kept them off my ass for as long as it did."

The proximity was distracting, but he bumped his shoulder back against him with a huff. "I think I probably should know, Doffy. I can take a big secret." 

He wagged a finger at him. "I'll tell you. You should know. The other executives have known since after Dressrosa, and I'll trust that you have enough sense not to blab the secret before its time."

Law huffed softly. "I'm good with secrets, Doffy! I ain't gonna blab anything until it's time. You got my word."

Whatever it was, Doffy was hyping it up. Knowing him— it was either something legitimately world shaking, or it was something he was trying to work Law into a tizzy over for a laugh. 

Dofllamingo leaned even closer, until his sharp face was level with Law's and almost excruciatingly close.

 "You're familiar with the empty throne, I imagine? The symbol of the ooh-soooo-wholsesome shared power of the World Government?"

"I've heard of it. Always struck me as kinda…I dunno. Pointless. The shared power's bullshit anyway, right? They just have a handful of guys throwing their weight around instead of one in a fancy hat." Law looked up to meet his sunglasses, feeling the warmth of Doflamingo's face near his. 

"Except, here's the secret, Law." He put his arm over his shoulder. "They do have one guy in a fancy hat. The empty throne? Isn't fucking empty at all."

"...." Law was almost nose to nose to him as he leaned in with an incredulous stare. 

"Huh? You're telling me they got some fucking secret king squatting in the big empty throne up their on Holier Than Thoutopia?" 

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," he purred. His breath was warm on Law's face, and Law could see himself reflected in Doffy's shiny glasses. "They all bend the knee to Great Imu. Even I don't know much, but either it's an inherited title, or the bastard's actually fucking immortal."

Immortal. There was a concept you didn't hear thrown around a lot. At least not seriously. It had come up once before to Law however, and reminded him uncomfortably of a conversation he no longer felt good or sure about. Rosi had told him that Doflamingo wanted possession of the Op-Op fruit's holder in order to become immortal.

That memory sunk into his stomach, making him feel ill with a barely restrained grimace. 

"Great Imu…? That's insane…I mean, I don't…I don't trust the World Government, but if the people heard that there'd be a mass riot. It's proof that literally everything they ever spouted was a fucking lie! And…" he hesitated. "Immortality ain't real." 

Doffy's smile faded just a little and he sat back, crossing his arms, looking thoughtful. "No it isn't. As far as I've been able to determine anyway. But immortal or not, you're right about a mass riot if word were to get out. That's how I blackmailed my way to a warlord position, and that's what Crocodile's saving the secret for, potentially, anyway."

Law whistled under his breath. "...saving it for the chance to literally change the world. You get Cross Guild respected enough…when that news comes out, the people'll flock to side with you, over the Marines. You might even beat out the Revolutionary Army in terms of pull."

"We might," Doffy chuckled. "Unless we end up negotiating with the bastards. Croc is talking about that too, but who knows. We'll change the world one way or another though, that's for sure. So that's the secret. And that's Cross Guild. Any questions?"

"...I mean. I'm still kinda reeling about this emu guy, Doffy." 

"Yeah no, that's fair." He nodded, arms crossed over his chest still, and chuckled a little. "Hell of a lie they're selling."

"Hell of a lie, yeah." Law raised his eyebrow. "...but I gotta ask…you think it's really possible the guy's immortal? I know it's…supposed to be bullshit, but." 

Doffy cocked his head. "But there's a lot of fucking weird shit in our world? I'm not going to lie, it's not completely impossible. There are rumors about devil fruits that can produce immortality." He paused, lacing his fingers together and Law saw his brow furrow. "There's a legend that yours can do it."

"Yeah. Someone told me that once," Law's eyes flicked down. He knew Doflamingo would likely have a guess as to who. "Said that you were after it specifically to become immortal, too." 

"He said–" Doffy made a rough, thick noise at the back of his throat, and took a deep breath. when Law's gaze looked back up, he was pinching the bridge of his nose under his sunglasses. "Of course he'd fucking say that. Well. No wonder you wanted to stay the fuck away from me, eh? What with the supposed method killing the person who performs it."

"Yeah…" Law's voice was rough as he laughed, strained with the emotion in his chest. "...I mean, that little detail was how he managed to convince me for a while that you really were gonna throw me away. He— he really hammered that part home." 

"I'll just bet he fucking did," Doffy growled. "If I'd known how things would end up I sure as hell wouldn't have let him see my research. I— okay, first of all, let's say this so-called 'immortality operation' actually existed and I knew for certain that it would work and for certain that the person who was going to do it was capable of performing it correctly. I'd have to trust the person who was performing it with my life. I'd have to trust them with my life, and that they were willing to throw their life away for mine. That's—"

His voice broke and he took a breath. He looked uncomfortable. Shaken, even. "Well, no wonder you thought I was someone who'd just throw someone away."

Law's eyes lingered on Doflamingo's sharp and shaken frown— the creases of his brow just over his sunglasses, the genuinely shaken upset that had taken over his features. 

It all made sense— if it even was real, if the ability to grant someone eternal life through the sacrifice of an op-op user was real— he wasn't wrong about the need for perfect trust. Trust and a willingness to die.

Rosi had framed it like Doflamingo was planning on twisting Law's heart into a place where he'd be willing to die as Doffy used his life to make himself some kind of undying god of the underworld.

An undying manipulator wouldn't look as rattled as Doffy did now.

He reached out and grabbed Doflamingo's shoulders, bringing his face closer to him as he gave him a thin smile. "But I don't anymore. Rosi told me a lot of stuff…a lot of stuff I took to heart… but at the end of the day he was actually manipulating my heart the same way he claimed you were tryin' to." 

He felt Doffy jolt under his touch, but he leaned into it as he met his gaze, face to face and close to each other again as Law's body leaned over him. He put his hand on Law's leg.

"I'm sure he'd hate to hear that," he grumbled roughly. "Wish I'd known he was manipulating me the whole time, but I couldn't see it over how glad I was to have my brother back. I'm sorry I let him near you and the other kids."

The image of the scrap heap coming up to meet him as he was thrown from a window, and the image of Baby 5 crying and bruised in the corner as he sat with her and promised that neither of them would leave the family no matter what…they came all too easily as Law dwelled on the past.

He squeezed his shoulders. "I wish too, Doffy. Thank you…it ain't your fault the way he treated us. If I could change the past, I would but I can't blame you for being happy to see your brother again…hoping that everything was gonna work out."

Law looked down. "I mean. I got convinced to go on a quest of literal fucking revenge because I couldn't see past the feeling that he somehow saved me from death."

He felt Doffy's other hand rest on top of his head. "Guess we both got fucking taken in by his act," he muttered. "Fucking marine. I'm looking forward to the day I don't think about him any more. If that day ever comes."

Law pressed the top of his head against Doffy's hand as he huffed softly. 

"...maybe. It'll probably be the same day I don't think about him anymore, too." He glanced up at him. "Maybe that'll be part of my duty as Corazon, eh? Make sure that happens." 

His hand slid down and cupped Law's face. 

"A worthy duty for my Corazon." Doffy chuckled softly, deep in his chest, and some of his smile came back. "Sorry to get all dark when we were just talking about Cross Guild."

Law felt his face flushing despite himself, and he huffed. "S'alright. I won't say I'm innocent here either. But I think I get the gist of Cross Guild well enough." 

"Good. It'll be important when we see Crocodile— at the concert presumably." His thumb lingered on Law's jaw, and he was overwhelmed with the subtle scent of the man again. "And despite what I said– if anything comes up, about Rosi or something he told you and you want to ask about it, do. I'm an open book to my executives."

Law's head tilted against the touch, and he felt himself flushing deeper. The sheer nostalgia of the scent hit him like a brick wrapped in Doffy's feather coat. "Y-yeah, of course Doffy. I promise. Any questions or thoughts I have, I'll share." 

"Good," Doflamingo repeated. His touch lingered for a moment more, then he sat back with his hands in his lap. "Let's talk about the other job I have for you today. It's not going to bring up the mood, but we can have a drink when it's done."

Law told himself he didn't miss the lingering sensation, leaning back in his chair with his arm thrown over the back. "Alright, lay it on me. What can I do for ya?"

-

What could Law do for him? What a question.

The warmth of Law's cheek lingered on Doflamingo's fingers as he sat back. The urge to kiss him had been almost irresistible. He wondered if Law would have pulled away? But it wasn't the time to try something like that, even if he were going to. There was too much business. The memories were too thick.

And now they needed to deal with Sugar. With Monet.

"It's gonna depend on how exactly that power of yours works. Never saw it for myself, but Vergo said you can switch people's personalities around."

Law nodded slowly. "I can. I can displace what…for lack of a better word…we call the soul. Take it outta your body and switch it with someone elses. Why? Been wanting to walk a mile in Baby 5's shoes? Or Derringer's heels?" 

He chuckled at the idea. "It does sound like a fun party trick but unfortunately I'm wondering if we can use it for something more serious. I had a… very odd conversation with Sugar earlier today."

Odd didn't begin to cut it but opening with 'either Monet's in Sugar's body or she cracked when you got her sister killed' just seemed too harsh for the moment.

"...an odd conversation with Sugar? That's…ominous, Doffy." Law leaned his hands on his knees again with a grimace. "I'm gonna admit, I had a pretty odd conversation with her earlier too." 

"You did, huh? Guess that makes things easier." He watched the way Law sat, almost doubled over like that. He'd seen him sitting that way before, and he wondered if he'd picked it up from him, even. "Sugar thinks she's talking to Monet. And 'Monet' had a conversation with me."

Law hissed a sharp breath through his teeth. 

"Son of a bitch." He reached up, one hand running back through his hair as he grimaced. "It would explain a few things, I guess. Sugar said some shit earlier that called back to Punk Hazard…and then started talkin' a lot like Monet for a second before she got it under control. 

Doffy wove his fingers together as he leaned toward him. "Did she? And did she say anything that struck you like something Sugar wouldn't know?"

"She called me Luffy's special little nickname for me. The one he was yelling all over Punk Hazard and I KNOW nowhere near Sugar on Dressrosa." 

"Traffy?" Doflamingo couldn't help but grin as he mimicked the silly nickname that Straw Hat had been yelling all over Dressrosa. It sounded a lot like his own nickname, didn't it? "Yeah I doubt Sugar heard it, though it is possible."

Law flushed, burying his head in his hands with a low groan. 

"Goddamnit….yeah well.. Yeah. that one. I know she didn't, 'cause she was with Trebol basically the whole time, and I was with Luffy basically the whole time and I don't think they met." 

He snickered. "Don't like 'Traffy'?" he teased. He couldn't help it, teasing Law was so easy. So natural. "It does sound a little much like 'Doffy' so maybe we should stick with 'Corazon'."

Law pressed his hands to his face. 

"I like it , okay! But it's…guh.. Yeah. Let's stick with Corazon." He dropped back into the chair with a huff. He closed his eyes for a moment."You want me to feel around in there and see if I can confirm the presence of a second 'personality' or 'soul' inside her, right?" 

"If you can do that with some degree of reliability it'd be fucking fantastic," he agreed. "Can you?"

Law nodded thoughtfully. 

"I can, honestly yeah. Back on Punk Hazard I was able to swap a whole Marine platoon. Got Smoker stuck in that Tashigi girl's body for almost a day." He waved his hand. "It's one of the skills I had since before I even awakened." 

"Very useful," Doffy purred. The possibilities played in his mind. "And a very fun party trick. But for the moment, useful. 'Monet'-- if it is Monet— wants to know for sure if she's there. I'd very much like to know too. And I assume that you…"

He trailed off.

-

Monet. The studious, intelligent, playful Monet. The woman he'd killed with his power in a twist of fate that turned his stomach. 

Law's mind was reeling despite the calm he settled over his features.

Sugar, her sister, was claiming to hear her voice now…? She'd either gone mad, or she was haunted by a ghost. Law didn't know which one he'd feel worse about.

Of course, of course Monet wanted to know if she was real. If it was Monet, that would have been a surefire sign. She'd always been like that. When he'd operated on her, she'd teasingly asked him how much of the bird would wind up lingering with her in some kind of existential tangle.

He'd rolled his eyes, and told her she couldn't get any more birdbrained than she already was. It'd made her laugh— and he'd killed her for it.

He swallowed thickly as he finally answered. "Yeah. I'd like to know one way or the other." 

Doflamingo nodded, and stood up almost immediately unfolding his long, lanky body. He extended his arm down to Law.

"Let's not fuck around then. No point leaving it in the air if we can figure it out."

Law grabbed his arm and hefted himself up with a huff of breath and a half smile. "Yeah…I mean, no sense in torturing ourselves with a fuckin' mystery we can solve right off, yeah?" 

"Damn right." Doffy tugged him close. "Ten out of ten times, I'd rather torture somebody else than myself."

As they headed out of the cabin Law felt a little pressure around his wrist and found that it was wound with Doffy's threads like a bracelet– or a handcuff– linking him to Doflamingo. When he was younger, he remembered seeing him doing the same thing to his then-Corazon, and occasionally to the other executives.

It was a sign of affection, maybe, or some kind of reminder of their bond. He'd always been curious about it when he was a kid.

Now he was experiencing it for himself as he walked close beside him. "You and me bo– well, okay. Maybe I'm a little more willing to torture myself than you are, Doffy." 

Doffy chuckled and tugged at the threads on Law's wrist. He grinned brightly, with a sly edge to it. "No fucking kidding. Try not to do that any more, please. If I want you tortured, I'll let you know."

Dammit, Dammit, Dammit to hell. He knew Doffy could see the brilliant flush that washed over him. Law wasn't… exactly a masochist. Or rather— any tendencies he did have, he certainly made sure nobody could possibly know. 

He choked, almost falling against him as he sputtered out a sharp. "Yessir, you old fuckin bastard." He huffed softly, his fingers reaching out to brush against the strings. "Don't worry. My self-torture days are done. Probably." 

"They'd better be, Corazon." Doffy's fingers tugged the strings again, pulling his wrist close enough to brush his fingers against Law's.

Law's fingers brushed back before rather quickly closing around his, his mind still spinning and face still red as they came to the cabin doors. 

With his free hand, Doffy knocked on the cabin door they'd arrived in front of.

A very quiet '...come in…" came from inside. 

Doflamingo pushed the door open, and then they were inside Sugar's toy filled room.

"It's just me, Sugar," Doffy said as he tugged him inside. "And Corazon."

Sugar was working on a doll, Law saw that it had been inset with piercing glass eyes and a pale green wig. She looked up and blinked at him with a huff of breath and the barest trace of a smile.

"Hello, young master. Corazon."

Before he'd left the family, Sugar had been, not exactly loud. She always had a kind of deadpan affect, and a sharp wit even as a child, but she'd seemed to have had the life sucked right out of her since Dressrosa.

Losing her sister had done a number on her.

"Hey Sugar. Nice doll." 

There was no question who the doll was supposed to look like.

Doffy stuck to his promise not to torture them with hesitance. "Corazon has a way to check on that thing we wanted to verify. I assume you still want to do that."

Life came back to Sugar as her eyes widened. "Damn right I do, Doffy!" her eyes flicked to Law, "Hey Traffy. Ready to root around in our soul…s? Plural?"

Law raised his eyebrow at the sudden change of demeanor, before he nodded. 

"Yeah, sure I am. I'm gonna ask you to get comfortable, alright?" 

-

Doffy released his comfortable hold on Law's wrist regretfully as he stepped back to give him space to work. This was going to be his first time seeing what he could do without that power being turned on him. As Sugar made herself comfortable, he waved his hand.

"It's your scene, Corazon."

It was a thrill every time he got to call him that.

Law held his hands out with a low chuckle. "Let's set the stage then. Room."

There was a physical ripple in the air, and though they couldn't see it, it was obvious the space all around them was now under Corazon's control. Doffy shivered with fascination at the thought.

He took a deep breath and reached out. "This is going to be a little odd because I can usually just fling the spirit into another body, you know…. Swap it. But…"

Sugar held the doll to her chest with a slight frown. "Is it going to hurt?" 

Doffy set his jaw. "If you need another body, I can call Baby 5," he suggested. He didn't think it would hurt, but obviously Law knew best on that topic.

"It's not going to hurt.For most people it mostly feels weird, I got to listen to Smoker and Tashigi gripe about it all through…" Law waved his hand idly "...that."

"Trust me," Sugar said dryly, "so did I. I'm not scared. Grab Baby 5 if you wanna, I can imagine you probably don't wanna put me in the young master, right?" 

Doffy chuckled. "Maybe another time. I'll go get Baby 5, then. Don't start the party without me, alright?"

-

Baby 5 didn't expect her cleaning duties to be interrupted by the young master hauling her away to Sugar's room for an 'experiment', but that was what happened.

She'd been tidying alone, dressing the beds of her fellow officers and executives while Komurasaki had her stint on watch. It was quiet, not having the shadow she'd gotten used to over the last few days, but she made the best of it up until Doffy physically dragged her out of the room.

She didn't have any idea what this experiment was about but he DID say he needed her for it, and that always made her heart skip a beat!

"S-so uhm…what kind of experimenting are we gonna do today, young master?" she asked as she shuffled along after him. 

Doffy chuckled thickly. 

"Not the fun kind you're imagining," he teased, smirking at her. "Law– Corazon— is going to be swapping your and Sugar's bodies temporarily to test something."

Baby 5 blinked at him. 

"Wait, I'm gonna have to be in Sugar's body??" She puffed out her cheek. "For how long? She's really cute and all but it's way too tiny for me, Young Master!" 

Doffy laughed, and shook his head. "She can barely hold all of your enormous personality, I'm sure. I only need you to put up with it for a few minutes."

Baby 5 sighed, shaking her head as she put her cigarette to her lips again. Despite her protests, she couldn't help but wonder….

Was this something to do with how odd Sugar had been acting recently? Those moments when she seemed less like herself and more like her sister that had cropped up since Law started hanging around the crew again?

The idea of swapping bodies, and in the process solving a mystery about a very, very close crewmate, was actually kind of exciting. 

Doffy pushed open the door to Sugar's cabin. "We're back."

Baby 5 leaned around Doflamingo with a grin. "Hey, hey. Room Service calling!"

Law had his arms outstretched, keeping his 'room' active no doubt as Sugar fidgeted on the bed.

"Hey Baby 5." Law flashed her a sharp smile. "Ready to get some new perspective?" 

-

Law had never done something exactly like this before, but the premise was the same. First the room would be set up. The space where everything became his domain to move about as he pleased. Every object, every person, every spirit. They all lit up in his perception ready for him to operate on.

Doflamingo…the incredulous looking Baby 5… Sugar. They all watched as he reached out with his power into the 'heart' of Sugar. He saw her spirit, a flickering, bright thing waiting to be moved at his command.

He raised his fingers with a murmur, ready to make the swap when he stopped dead in his tracks. There was another 'heart' there. Another flickering presence of life in a metaphorical sea-green. It nestled next to Sugar's, hidden until he rooted deeper into her spirit.

"I see." he murmured, before he pointed at Sugar first, she shivered uncomfortably as he jabbed his hand towards her and quickly repeated the movement on Baby 5, stunning her with a sharp gasp.

Their 'souls' jumped from their bodies, suspended in the air for a moment under his power. 

Doflamingo was watching the scene with a look of intense interest. Law couldn't help but be aware of his presence as he stood within the bubble of his power, despite that his attention was focused elsewhere.

Doffy leaned forward, staying back despite his obvious curiosity and anticipation for what would happen. He couldn't see the scene quite as Law saw it.

Law twisted his hand, and the souls leapt. A successful surgery, visible to everyone as Baby 5 jerked back, and Sugar's hand went to her chest.

Baby 5…or rather, the extra soul in Baby 5's body…blinked slowly before her hands pat down her body with a widening grin "Would you look at that!"

Meanwhile Sugar pressed her hand to her head. "...I'm still in my own bo–"

"GAHHH!!!!" She shrieked a moment later, jumping up and sending the doll clattering to the ground "What the fuck????" came Baby 5's tone in her voice. 

"Am I looking at what I think I'm looking at, Corazon?" Doffy took a step forward, pushing up his crimson shades.

Law nodded slowly. It surprised even him. 

Hell…he was fucking blown away by this. Two souls in one body, and when he moved one away, he was left with Sugar and Baby 5 sharing space— and what could only be Monet currently prancing around the room in Baby's body, grinning widely as she looked at her hands.

"You sure are, Doffy. Sugar's still in her body, now with Baby 5."

"Goddamn! This is weird as fuck!" Baby 5 pointed to herself with Sugar's finger, "Monet…is that you??"

"In your flesh, dollface," Monet grinned. "Hey guys. Feel free to ask me questions to prove I'm really me if you want." 

Doffy yanked one of Sugar's little chairs close to him with his strings, and sat down in it, heavily, and awkwardly.

Law felt much the same. He needed to sit. Monet. He didn't need to verify shit. It was obvious as the nose on his face.

Monet acted the exact same way when he'd first spliced the bird wings and talons onto her body on Punk Hazard. He glanced at Doffy, sure that similar thoughts were going through his mind.

Somehow, despite death itself, Monet had come back to the Donquixotes. He could only imagine how he was feeling. 

Coming back seemed to be a common theme these days.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Veilguard Wrap Up: Juniper Aldwir

Wanted to write up a little summary of the details for my first playthrough so I can reference it later when planning/playing out future characters :) This post contians major spoilers for decisions in DAV.

This is not actually finished because I can't find a list of all the "decision points" online yet. I'm just gonna fill it is as I do my second character to make my own, feel free to copy it (or point me towards someone else's write up of the choice points)

Rook

Name: Juniper Aldwir

Faction: Veiljumper

Class: Mage

Specialization: Spellblade

Personality: direct, stoic, not afraid of confrontation, chooses violence when she feels it's most effective. First act of the game was fighting her way through the Venatori in the bar--very little patience for people wasting her time when she's doing something, though she is more chill in casual/personal settings. Also ended up jokier than I initially intended bc that's just kind of baked into the game.

Romance: Lucanis <3 <3

Companions

Lace Harding: Embrace the anger (The Stone's Vengeance)

Neve: Work with the Threads (Winter's Wrath)

Bellara: Keep the archive (Lingering Strike)

Lucanis: Showed mercy to Illario (Demon of Rebellion)

Davrin: Sent the griffons to Arlathan (Battlemaster)

Taash: Embrace Qunari culture (Qunari Focus)

Emmrich: Saved Manfred (Life's Embrace)

Quest choices & outcomes by act under the readmore

Prologue

Fought at the bar

Took Harding with her at the ritual site

Yelled at Solas in the Fade

Act 1: Signs and Portents

Left the mayor to his fate ("He got what he asked for")

Saved Treviso ("We already saved Minrathous once this month, let Antiva have a turn")

Punched the First Warden in the face and seized control for Evka

to be filled in

Act 2: The Price of the Past

to be filled in

Act 3: The Wrath of Ages

Leads the second team, and makes the ultimate sacrifice: Lace Harding ("Whatever it takes...")

Helps the Veiljumpers by protecting them in battle: Davrin (survived)

Helps the crows with experience fighting mages: Lucanis (survived)

Helps the Wardens by fighting the giant construct: Taash (survived)

Epilogue: The Dread Wolf's Heart

Convinced Solas to bind himself to the Veil to stabilize it, with the help of the second fragment of Mythal, Morrigan, and the Inquisitor

Lavellan joins Solas, and they depart into the Fade together

[halfbaked00q]

the thing is, is that I DO think Quantum of Solace is a fantastic movie

it is NOT based on a Bond book. but, having read Live and Let Die. I do think QoS somehow manages to, like,. rhyme? with LaLD? Like, to my reading, there are sort of subtle characterization parallels in how Bond develops from CR (movie) to QoS, and how Bond develops from CR (book) and LaLD.

I do think LaLD provides the most interesting and complex insights into Bond's character that we get of the first four books -- at least in my opinion. Like we do get some interesting insights in Moonraker, Diamonds are Forever. But imo those are more "oh, new lore dropped" kind of insights. Whereas, to me, the LaLD ones are more like "......absolutely FASCINATING what this implies/says about Bond's character...."

like the part where he's going through Customs in the U.S. and rankling at all of the documentation, reflecting on how his trade is in anonymity and every thread of info going on any file "diminished his value" and also threatened his life, Fleming writing Bond's quest against SMERSH as a "trail of vengeance" despite, to my mind, the like call to action/mission statement at the end of Casino Royale didn't hardly seem to vengeful...., the part where Bond is putting on the trappings of his American makeover/disguise, and despite having previously called the shoes provided "very comfortable," eschews them in favor of putting on his own shoes - which he had kept as contraband even though he wasn't supposed to it seems. and feels better for it [putting his own shoes on]. the toes of *his* shoes, Fleming notes, are steel-toed. but also same sort of passage (also in the prev post)-- the way Bond describes his current setting - colorful, beautiful, picturesque, luxurious - vs London his home - dreary, bitter, pedestrian, unrefined. And yet. As he dons his American-issued gear. He keeps his own contraband shoes. And literally continues to walk the day in his own shoes, vs putting on the American issued, "very comfortable," moccasin casuals. Under the leather, the toe-caps were lined with steel.

It's interestingggg, there are these tensions present in his character, these apparent dichotomies and yet which exist simultaneously within the one person

I also joke about him being anxiety-man lmao but also these passages also add such fascinating and complex additions to the image of Bond that's being painted. There's something about it all in LaLD that is like, "how do these all exist in one guy?" But of course it can. Of course it does. Are not real humans also prone to inconsistency and contradiction? Do real humans not also sometimes exhibit seemingly dichotomous worldviews that they somehow hold simultaneously? And I mean, Bond isn't even really that- he isn't, like, contradictory exactly. Just that I do think LaLD provides the most interestingly complex picture of the guy. In a way that the other books just don't quite feel like they do. And again, I do think QoS manages to, like, rhyme with the character themes of LaLD. or rhyme with the character meter. there's parallels in the rhythms and patterns if not the actual themes themselves.

[flame-of-tar-valon]

Interesting results, and even more interesting comments. I'm not necessarily going to do a numbers-based approach and kill off everyone with a certain amount of votes — I'm undecided about how lethal the fic will be yet, and I don't want the violence to be gratuitous. That said, I'll be using these poll results as a litmus test to gauge how well the community thinks each potential character death would function within a narrative.

The top four results — Thancred, G'raha, one of the twins, and Estinien — received not only votes, but comments in the tags clamoring for their demise. Fascinating! Thancred in particular is most likely doomed: first place by a large margin, over a third of voters chose him, and many of the tags pointed out he was likely written to die, then the writer was overruled. As for the others: everyone not in the top four is safe. (Krile breathes a sigh of relief.) G'raha, the twins, and Estinien are my shortlist for further consideration, depending on what beats the story calls for.

I'm not trying to kill characters just for the fun of it (though it IS fun for my angst-loving brain). I'm really just trying to serve the needs of the narrative. To better express what I mean, I just finished the early Endwalker quest where Vrtra tells you that he knows you have experienced loss. Faces flash through the WoL's mind: Ysayle, Moenbryda, Papalymo, Minfilia, Haurchefant. Minfilia is an odd case — she experiences three sacrifices where she gives up something of her Self, one each in ARR, HW, and ShB. Of the other four characters, one dies in ARR, and the rest in HW.

For a game with threads about self-sacrifice, pressing on in spite of grief, and risking everything to save the world, SB onward is extremely reluctant to show death as a consequence for the closest friends and allies of the WoL. Stormblood has Meffrid and Conrad die, but no one any closer to the WoL than that. Shadowbringers uses Tesleen's transformation to great impact, but nothing substantially closer. All the risks and emotional moments around sacrifice — Y'shtola's teleport, Thancred's duel, G'raha's crystalization — are summarily reversed with absolutely no lasting harm, nor narrative weight.

All of which means that every time the scope of the game gets larger, going from city-level threats to universe-level ones, the characters' resolve never genuinely feels like they're putting their lives on the line and seriously acknowledging death as a tangible risk that they may face. The character who does so most is Lyse, and she leaves the party after Stormblood. Secondary characters (such as Tesleen) die after brief, sympathy-gatgering introductions just to motivate the primary cast to be sad and/or vengeful. Even Alphinaud's crisis of faith between post-ShB and EW is because Arenvald was... wounded and now uses a wheelchair.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that death is mandatory for good storytelling or that there's a quota of character murder I have to commit as a writer for my story to be "good" or mature/deep/serious. On the other hand, the specific types of things I personally want to write about center on themes of death, grief, resolve in the face of loss, the difference between vengeance and justice, and how hard it sometimes can be to take the next step day after day.

I'm also looking for more consistency in writing. As a game released in separate expansions, it's easy to pinpoint Heavensward as the last (the only?) lethal expansion for its core cast. With the benefit of retrospect, though, I'd rather not use my fic to suggest that the Dragonsong War is more uniquely lethal for the WoL's closest followers than the literal End of the World. At the very least, I'd like to take those deaths — Moenbryda, Haurchefant, Ysayle, Papalymo, Minfilia — and space them out across expansions. On the other hand, some of them only died because they had the misfortune of joining the cast during the more lethal era of FFXIV. So I could make the lethality of the game conflicts consistent by reducing these canon deaths, too. That is still on the table.

Anyways, this is just to say: thank you to all 97 of you who voted, and an especially big thank you to everyone who typed out comments explaining your viewpoints in the tags. It's all been really helpful in how I see the characters and their respective character arcs. I will honestly say that the chances of any of this actually coming to pass are fairly slim: I've had writers block for a while, but it'll be a long time before I'm even done with levels 1-17 of the MSQ in my fic, let alone ARR. I very well might drop the series before any characters even get a chance to die.