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semischarmed · 3 years

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Temptation

-Wednesday-

I love him so much. God I love him. And he’ll never know. Maybe it was a curse from a past life or something. To live like this, tantalizingly close to him but unable to act. I knew he didn’t see me that way, but that didn’t help any in my situation.

Take today for instance, he just came back from the gym today soaked in the lingering smell of sweat. It was probably residual perspiration on the clothes he was carrying back or some other thing in his bag. Still. The smell. Goddamn. I could have died and gone to heaven on the spot. I tried to sneak a whiff of Connor, but all I could pick up was whatever soap and cologne he used. It was earthy, woodsy. Like cut cedar and fresh rain. It’s the Connor I always smelled, since he did always keep himself quite clean, and it’s a wonderful scent in its own right, forming the basis of my idea of Connor and the scent I associated with him. But damn. This paled in comparison to the hints of musk and workout sweat I could glean from his clothing. He reeked of pure man and it’s such a shame he covered that up. God I hope he doesn’t do laundry anytime soon.

He must have picked up on something, cause not a moment later I got a “Oh dude! I’m so sorry, this stuff probably reeks haha. I’ll get it washed up so it doesn’t stink up the place” he laughed politely. Fuck.

“Sure, you do you” I stated back, mentally cursing at his propensity for cleanliness.

You’d think the ROTC guys wouldn’t give two fucks about their smell but I guess Connor was an exception. Then again I don’t really know what they did, so maybe it was normal for them. In any case, he definitely did laundry tonight, and I definitely lost out on a good jack off.

-Friday-

So, weird thing happened last night. Connor looked tired as fuck, but he went out. The man must have been running on sheer willpower alone cause he had some kind of training day earlier today too. He collapsed in his room at like 8. Yet there he was an hour later- eyes bloodshot, hair tousled. Maybe he wanted to let loose or something? Still pretty weird. I mean, the guy was practically a saint. It’s odd enough that he went out for drinks, but even odder that he went out dressed like he did. Still I could definitely get used to a more experimental Connor.

He was also a little looser when he came back. Gave me a pat on the shoulder and a wink. Something about “keeping the room safe” or something. I couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what he was actually rambling about. His breath was drenched in alcohol. I feel like I almost got drunk off the fumes alone when he spoke. No surprise when he had no recollection of any of it after he woke up from his nap.

Total guilty pleasure, but the messy look was kind of hot on him. Never seen my friend so disheveled like this, he was always so prim and proper. It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a few pegs.

-Tuesday-

Connor let out a cute yawn before scratching his pits. He gave his scratching hand a quick sniff before settling into a satisfied smile. My dick jumped a little. I feigned ignorance when he regarded me, asking me if I saw that. “I… uh…no. Definitely not.”

“Sure dude.” Now fully aware of my stare, Connor continued scratching at himself. “You’re seeing this now though, right?” He ran a hand over his stomach, gently feeling through his defined abs. I kept replaying the event in my head, drooling the delight I just witnessed and at a little daydream of me coming up to to feel this new side of Connor with him. In my daze, I barely noticed my roommate inching closer.

Plus, did he seem… bigger? Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen the guy without a shirt on so I guess I just never noticed. Regardless, this version of Connor was fucking hot. Looks like he’s got a tat too. Hot.

“Baby if you’re gonna keep looking, you might as well have a taste.” He laughed warmly. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. In my stunned state, I couldn’t do anything beyond stare at him in disbelief as a vascular hand that seemed larger than it should be guided mine around his perky ass. God what a nice ass. I still recoiled out of the sheer absurdity in the situation. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of this Connor. It’s like he was two different people. Well, I definitely liked this version of my friend more. I’m still drooling over what just happened.

“Another time, then,” he chuckled before walking to his room.

Weird. Connor never really shut his door other than to sleep. Guess he was tired or something.

-Thursday-

Well shit, I totally misread all of that. Today, I thought I saw that same glint of intrigue in his eyes and decided to risk it. Conner was just sitting in his boxers eating cereal and I was just standing there, a few feet behind. I couldn’t help it. My hand instinctively reached out and the cupped the outline of his ass. Perky. It was cute and compact and plump but definitely had a bit of muscle behind it. I regretted the action immediately.

“…The fuck dude?” He gently whispered. It was more bewilderment than anything. Fuck. He was incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Anger raged inside him, I could tell. But neither of us knew what to do in the situation. We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like hours before I relented.

In shame I could barely stammer out a shameful “s-sorry” before I slunk back to my room, bright red.

I fucked up.

-Monday-

Okay. Scratch everything I just said. Connor is fucking with me. He’s got to be. He strode around the apartment half naked, humming a quiet tune to himself. Sure. Fine, I guess. Whatever. But as soon as he noticed me on the couch working on an essay, he walked over and gave me a hug from behind. Oh my god that hug. Connor was a lean dude, but I swear his muscles were fucking bulging, like they were barely contained in his skin. He wrapped those thick pythons over my shoulders and chest and I just about melted on the spot. I’m pretty sure I moaned a little too. Who wouldn’t? Wrapped in his warm embrace, surrounded by this man- I was his for that moment. I tensed up on the spot. I knew he didn’t swing that way, so I don’t know what he was trying but there was no way I would fall for what I could only assume was some kind of trap.

He spoke in a tone laced in sex. It set me off in a way I didn’t expect. This was a side of Connor I’ve never seen, a tone of Connor I’ve never heard- an experience of Connor I’ve never had. It was a Connor I never knew I needed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at this body. You’re not very subtle.” In the faintest of whispers, he leaned in until his lips were barely touching my ear. My dick was already rock hard in anticipation- I was practically bursting at the seams and I’m sure he had a great view of it. “Just say the word and ‘Connor’ is yours”.

With a control and a willpower I never had before, I refrained from kissing this boy- from putting myself all over him on the spot. I mentally cursed at my friend. ‘What the fuck are you playing at Connor?’

His hot, damp breath caressed my ear in its own embrace as I stood my ground, unmoving like stone. “Got to hand it to you, bro, you put up a really good fight. It’s okay. I love a good fight. Makes victory taste all the more sweeter.” The feel of Connor’s thick, defined fingers running through my hair and wet, slimy tongue across my cheek. He rolled his body forward, so the pulse through his abs would be felt across the back of my neck. From this spot, he was downright imposing. His guns went in for another caress- this time wrapping across my cheeks and around my chin.

“You know I love you bro… This body’s straight as an arrow. But it’s my body- I’ll go gay for you if you want”. What the fuck. Oh god I got a bit of his sweat on my cheek too. My eyes fluttered, body entrapped in a spell of my own hormones reacting to my friend’s advances.

Connor broke me. I shivered on the spot, leaned up to the man, moaned an “Oh fuck…Connor I-I need you. I-” before he cut me off. “Well bro, kind of looks like you still got some work today- you have fun with that.” He laughed coldly. He was fucking with me.

That whole exchange was really fucking weird, cause just a few hours later, it was back to pure awkward silence between us. Like a flip of a switch, the every energy he exuded around me could only be described as “uncomfortable”. I wanted to talk to him, to speak with him about earlier, to tell him I wanted him the same way. Something about those eyes read differently though. They read the same Connor I had been used to until recently. I decided to hold my tongue. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up.

Also I’m pretty sure this kid needs to see a doctor or something. I swear the guy doesn’t sleep- he’s out every night and then I see his tired ass drag himself to class every morning. Rushing a frat? Weird drugs? Could have been a host of things.

-Tuesday-

Now 4 days since the incident last week. Thankfully he hasn’t brought it up- nor has he brought up whatever the fuck yesterday was. If it was even real. I sweat and stumble over my sentences in every conversation I make with him. I flash back to what he said to me. God, this was all too much. Every time I try to focus myself, focus on whatever he was talking to me about, I couldn’t help but think of the Connor that visited me yesterday night.

Maybe, maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe I dreamed it all up. I was working on an essay for hours. The whole encounter could have easily been a dream. He’s been going out every night too, so it’s not like he could have been speaking to me that coherently. Still. That didn’t make it any better. Whether or not he knew it, Connor was a demon in my life.

I shamefully admit I totally jacked off to that little exchange from yesterday after he left. Grabbed some used Connor-scented garments off his hamper and exploded all over myself in a Connor-themed session. Nothing like the exquisite gym-soaked clothes from a week ago, but it was enough. It was still Connor. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head in pleasure as I took a breath, basking in the afterglow and the scent of forest and earth and faintest lingering musk of Connor in my nose. Connor was everything to me and, hallucination or not, I committed yesterday’s events to memory.

-Still Tuesday-

Shitshitshit. Definitely not a dream. I caught the son of a bitch. In the dead of night, I caught him sneaking in from a dark corner of the room. Like a figure manifest from the shadows itself. He was holding some silver figurine in his hand, reciting some odd words, before he lunged at the sleeping Connor. He gave my roommate a quick sniff before scoffing. “Bro you have to stop cleaning all your nice smells away… With that the stranger pulled at the corners of Connor’s mouth. I watched as my roommate’s skin was forced to accommodate the man’s muscular calves.

I watched as the stranger pulled Connor every further up himself. Damn, even in the dark I could tell the man was ripped. When his head finally slotted into where Connor’s skull would be, and Connor’s face was stretched being pulled, I saw the immediate change in my friend’s demeanor. This was the guy who’s been fucking with me recently. This was why Connor looked so buff lately. I couldn’t see the man who jumped inside my best friend, but I could never wipe that smug smile he wore through Connor’s face.

The smell that originated from inside Connor, the same smell I experienced a week ago. God I loved that scent. It permeated throughout the room. Best friend concentrate. Like a humid, musky, grime that clung to the very air and decorated my nostrils. I never wanted his scent out of me again. I felt like I was inhaling Connor himself, regarding a newly discovered private part of my friend.

My stomach churned in a mix of anticipation and horror. Sweat beaded at my temples. Gotta admit, this was kind of hot. I had to figure out what I was gonna do about this. Self-preservation kicked in and I fled to my room, taking special attention to ensure I did not alert the man inside Connor. Not like he’d notice anyways- dude was feeling himself up almost immediately after he slipped inside.

-Wednesday-

It’s like clockwork at this point. The “other” Connor came back early in the morning from a wild night out, before passing out on our couch as I was finally able to speak with my friend. Impossibly tired eyes looked back at me. He gave a weak grimace. “Must have passed out again….Uh.. can I help you man?” My heart sank. Could I really tell him this? My poor roommate. “No, uh.. do you want any breakfast?”.

I could tell he had meant to say yes. He motioned as much, before staring at my face and turning away. Fuck. He was definitely still put off by last week’s advance. I honestly don’t blame him. “N-no. I got it. Thanks.”

I grimaced awkwardly before shrugging and walking to fix myself some breakfast. This would complicate things. And I couldn’t do that to Connor. I needed to find a way to fix this without him knowing. Evidently, his body being used and worn out like an evening jacket was taking its toll on him. Despite whatever we were going through, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t in good faith add more to that burden.

“Hey, one of the guys from the gym’s coming over for dinner, that cool?”

“Yeah man, I’ll just order some extra pizza,” I said back, sighing internally in relief at some semblance of normalcy.

-Still Wednesday -

I met Connor’s gym friend. To be honest, already forgot his name. He gave me a wink when he shook my hand and I couldn’t stop staring all dinner. I think even Connor picked up on it. He looked almost jealous with all the attention I usually gave him being directed at the stranger. The stranger asked to use the bathroom, and I wanted to let him know how to get to it, but he seemed to already know the path.

“Hey bro, is it cool if I stay the night?“ I nodded automatically, lost in deep thought.

There’s something peculiar about the Connor’s gym friend. And I didn’t notice it until I was already in bed. Then hit me like a brick.

That fucking smirk.

-End-

If anyone knows who this guy is, please let me know… for.. uh.. research purposes.

#male skin suit #male control #male transformation

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oscopelabs · 3 years

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Isn’t Everything Autobiographical?: Ethan Hawke In Nine Films And A Novel by Marya Gates

When asked during his first ever on-camera interview if he’d like to continue acting, a young Ethan Hawke replied, “I don’t know if it’s going to be there, but I’d like to do it.” He then gives a guileless shrug of relief as the interview ends, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. The simultaneous fusion of his nervous energy and poised body language will be familiar to those who’ve seen later interviews with the actor. The practicality and wisdom he exudes at such a young age would prove to be a through-line of his nearly 40-year career. In an interview many decades later, he told Ideas Tap that many children get into acting because they’re seeking attention, but those who find their calling in the craft discover that a “desire to communicate and to share and to be a part of something bigger than yourself takes over, a certain craftsmanship—and that will bring you a lot of pleasure.”

Through Hawke’s dedication to his craft, we’ve also seen his maturation as a person unfold on screen. Though none of his roles are traditionally what we think of when we think of autobiography, many of Hawke’s roles, as well as his work as a writer, suggest a sort of fictional autobiographical lineage. While these highlights in his career are not strictly autofiction, one can trace Hawke’s Künstlerromanesque trajectory from his childhood ambitions to his life now as a man dedicated to art, not greatness.

Hawke’s first two films, Joe Dante’s sci-fi fantasy Explorers with River Phoenix and Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society with Robin Williams, set the tone for a diverse filmography filled with popcorn fare and indie cinema in equal measure, but they also served as touchstones in his development as person drawn to self-expression through art. In an interview with Rolling Stone’s David Fear, Hawke spoke about the impact of these two films on him as an actor. When River Phoenix, his friend and co-star in Explorers, had his life cut short by a drug overdose, it hit Hawke personally. He saw from the inside what Hollywood was capable of doing to young people with talent. Hawke never attempted to break out, to become a star. He did the work he loved and kept the wild Hollywood lifestyle mostly at arm’s length.

Like any good film of this genre, Dead Poets Society is not just a film about characters coming of age, but a film that guides the viewer as well, if they are open to its message. Hawke’s performance as repressed schoolboy Todd in the film is mostly internal, all reactions and penetrating glances, rather than grandiose movements or speeches. Through his nervy body language and searching gaze, you can feel both how closed off to the world Todd is, and yet how willing he is to let change in. Hawke has said working on this film taught him that art has a real power, that it can affect people deeply. This ethos permeates many of the characters Hawke has inhabited in his career.

In Dead Poets Society, Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) tells the boys that we read and write poetry because the human race is full of passion. He insists, “poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.” Hawke gave a 2020 TEDTalk entitled Give Yourself Permission To Be Creative, in which he explored what it means to be creative, pushing viewers to ask themselves if they think human creativity matters. In response to his own question, he said “Most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about poetry, right? They have a life to live and they’re not really that concerned with Allen Ginsberg’s poems, or anybody’s poems, until their father dies, they go to a funeral, you lose a child, somebody breaks your heart, they don’t love you anymore, and all of the sudden you’re desperate for making sense out of this life and ‘has anyone ever felt this bad before? How did they come out of this cloud?’ Or the inverse, something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes. You love them so much, you can’t even see straight, you know, you’re dizzy. ‘Did anybody feel like this before? What is happening to me?’ And that’s when art is not a luxury. It’s actually sustenance. We need it.”

Throughout many of his roles post-Dead Poets Society, Hawke explores the nature of creativity through his embodiment of writers and musicians. Often these characters are searching for a greater purpose through art, while ultimately finding that human connection is the key. Without that human connection, their art is nothing.

We see the first germ of this attraction to portray creative people on screen with his performance as Troy Dyer in Reality Bites. As Troy Dyer, a philosophy-spouting college dropout turned grunge-band frontman in Reality Bites, Hawke was posited as a Gen-X hero. His inability to keep a job and his musician lifestyle were held in stark contrast to Ben Stiller’s yuppie TV exec Michael Grates. However in true slacker spirit, he isn’t actually committed to the art of music, often missing rehearsals, as Lelaina points out. Troy even uses his music at one point to humiliate Lelaina, dedicating a rendition of “Add It Up” by Violent Femmes to her. The lyrics add insult to injury as earlier that day he snuck out of her room after the two had sex for the first time. Troy’s lack of commitment to his music matches his inability to commit to those relationships in his life that mean the most to him.

Reality Bites is also where he first positioned himself as one of the great orators of modern cinema.” Take this early monologue, in which he outlines his beliefs to Winona Ryder’s would-be documentarian Lelaina Pierce: “There’s no point to any of this. It’s all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know, a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle, and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.”

Hawke brings the same intense gaze to this performance as he did to Dead Poets Society, as if his eyes could swallow the world whole. But where Todd’s body language was walled-off, Troy’s is loud and boisterous. He’s quick to see the faults of those around him, but also the good things the world has to offer. It’s a pretty honest depiction of how self-centered your early-20s tend to be, where riding your own melt seems like the best option. As the film progresses, Troy lets others in, saying to Lelaina, “This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You, me and five bucks.”

Like the character, Hawke was in his early twenties and as he would continue to philosophize through other characters, they would age along with him and so would their takes on the world. If you only engage with anyone at one phase in their life, you do a disservice to the arc of human existence. We have the ability to grow and change as we learn who we are and become less self-centered. In Hawke’s career, there’s no better example of this than his multi-film turn as Jesse in the Before Trilogy. While the creation of Jesse and Celine are credited to writer-director Richard Linklater and his writing partner Kim Krizan, much of what made it to the screen even as early as the first film were filtered through the life experiences of Hawke and his co-star Julie Delpy.

In a Q&A with Jess Walter promoting his most recent novel A Bright Ray of Darkness, Hawke said that Jesse from the Before Trilogy is like an alt-universe version of himself, and through them we can see the self-awareness and curiosity present in the early ET interview grow into the the kind of man Keating from Dead Poets Society urged his students to become.

In Before Sunrise, Hawke’s Jesse is roughly the same age as Troy in Reality Bites, and as such is still in a narcissistic phase of his life. After spending several romantic hours with Celine in Vienna, the two share their thoughts about relationships. Celine says she wants to be her own person, but that she also desperately wants to love and be loved. Jesse shares this monologue, “Sometimes I dream about being a good father and a good husband. And sometimes it feels really close. But then other times it seems silly, like it would ruin my whole life. And it’s not just a fear of commitment or that I’m incapable of caring or loving because. . . I can. It’s just that, if I’m totally honest with myself, I think I’d rather die knowing that I was really good at something. That I had excelled in some way than that I’d just been in a nice, caring relationship.”

The film ends without the audience knowing if Jesse and Celine ever see each other again. That initial shock is unfortunately now not quite as impactful if you are aware of the sequels. But I think it is an astute look at two people who meet when they are still discovering who they are. Still growing. Jesse, at least, is definitely not ready for any kind of commitment. Then of course, we find out in Before Sunset that he’s fumbled his way into marriage and fatherhood, and while he’s excelling at the latter, he’s failing at the former.

As in Reality Bites, Hawke explores the dynamics of band life again in Before Sunset, when Jesse recalls to Celine how he was in a band, but they were too obsessed with getting a deal to truly enjoy the process of making music. He says to her, “You know, it's all we talked about, it was all we thought about, getting bigger shows, and everything was just...focused on the future, all the time. And now, the band doesn't even exist anymore, right? And looking back at the... at the shows we did play, even rehearsing... You know, it was just so much fun! Now I'd be able to enjoy every minute of it.”

The filming of Before Sunset happened to coincide with the dissolution of Hawke’s first marriage. And while these films are not autobiographical, everyone involved have stated that they’ve added personal elements to their characters. They even poke fun at it in the opening scene when a journalist asks how autobiographical Jesse’s novel is. True to form, he responds with a monologue, “Well, I mean, isn’t everything autobiographical? I mean, we all see the world through our own tiny keyhole, right? I mean, I always think of Thomas Wolfe, you know. Have you ever seen that little one page note to reader in the front of Look Homeward, Angel, right? You know what I'm talking about? Anyway, he says that we are the sum of all the moments of our lives, and that, anybody who sits down to write is gonna use the clay of their own life, that you can’t avoid that.”

While Before Sunset was shot in 2003, released in 2004 and this monologue refers to the fictional book within the trilogy entitled This Time, Hawke would take this same approach more than a decade later with his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness.

In the novel, Hawke crafts a quasi-autobiographical story, using his experience in theater to work through the perspective he now has on his failed marriage to Uma Thurman. Much like Jesse in Before Sunset, Hawke is reluctant to call the book autobiographical, but the parallels to his own divorce are evident. And as Jesse paraphrased Wolfe, isn’t everything we do autobiographical? In the book, movie star William Harding has blown up his seemingly picture-perfect marriage with a pop star by having an affair while filming on location in South Africa. The book, structured in scenes and acts like a play, follows the aftermath as he navigates his impending divorce, his relationship with his small children, and his performance as Hotspur in a production of Henry IV on Broadway.

Throughout much of the novel, William looks back at the mistakes he made that led to the breakup of his marriage. He’s now in his 30s and has the clarity to see how selfish he was in his 20s. Hawke, however, was in his forties while writing the book. Through the layers of hindsight, you can feel how Hawke has processed not just the painful emotional growth spurt of his 20s, but also the way he can now mine the wisdom that comes from true reflection. Still, as steeped as the novel is in self-reflection, it does not claim to have all the answers. In fact, it offers William, as well as the readers, more questions to contemplate than it does answers.

The wisdom to know that you will never quite understand everything is broached by Hawke early in the third film in the Before Trilogy, 2013’s Before Midnight. At this point in their love story, Jesse’s marriage has ended and he and Celine are parents to twin girls. Jesse has released two more books: That Time, which recounts the events of the previous film, and Temporary Cast Members of a Long-Running But Little Seen Production of a Play Called Fleeting. Before Midnight breaks the bewitching spell of the first two films by adding more cast members and showing the friction that comes with an attempt to grow old with someone. When discussing his three books, a young man says the title of his third is too long, Jesse says it wasn’t as well loved, and an older professor friend says it’s his best book because it’s more ambitious. It seems Linklater and company already knew how the departure of this third film might be regarded by fans. But it is this very departure that shows their commitment to honestly showing the passage of time and our relationship to it.

About halfway through the film Jesse and Celine depart the Greek villa where they have been spending the summer, and we finally get a one-on-one conversation like we’re used to with these films. In one exchange, I feel they summarize the point of the entire trilogy, and possibly Hawke’s entire ethos:

Jesse: Every year, I just seem to get a little bit more humbled and more overwhelmed about all the things I’m never going to know or understand.

Celine: That’s what I keep telling you. You know nothing!

Jesse: I know, I know! I'm coming around!

[Celine and Jesse laugh.]

Celine: But not knowing is not so bad. I mean, the point is to be looking, searching. To stay hungry, right?

Throughout the series, Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke explore what they call the “transient nature of everything.” Jesse says his books are less about time and more about perception. It’s the rare person who can assess themselves or the world around them acutely in the present. For most of us, it takes time and self-reflection to come to any sort of understanding about our own nature. Before Midnight asks us to look back at the first two films with honesty, to remove the romantic lens with which they first appeared to us. It asks us to reevaluate what romance even truly is.

Hawke explores this same concept again in the 2018 romantic comedy Juliet, Naked. In this adaptation of the 2009 Nick Hornby novel, Hawke plays a washed-up singer-songwriter named Tucker Crowe. He had a big hit album, Juliet, in the early ‘90s and then disappeared into obscurity. Rose Bryne plays a woman named Annie whose longtime boyfriend Duncan is obsessed with the singer and the album, stuck on the way the bummer songs about a bad breakup make him feel. As the film begins, Annie reveals that she thinks she’s wasted 15 years of her life with this schmuck. This being a rom-com, we know that Hawke and Byrne’s characters will eventually meet-cute. What’s so revelatory about the film is its raw depiction of how hard it is for many to reassess who they really are later in life.

Duncan is stuck as the self-obsessed, self-pitying person he likely was when Annie first met him, but she reveals he was so unlike anyone else in her remote town that she looked the other way for far too long. Now it’s almost too late. By chance, she connects with Crowe and finds a different kind of man.

See, when Crowe wrote Juliet, he also was a navel-gazing twentysomething whose emotional development had not yet reached the point of being able to see both sides in a romantic entanglement. He worked through his heartbreak through art, and though it spoke to other people, he didn’t think about the woman or her feelings on the subject. In a way, Crowe’s music sounds a bit like what Reality Bites’s Troy Dyer may have written, if he ever had the drive to actually work at his music. Eventually, it’s revealed that Crowe walked away from it all when Julie, the woman who broke his heart, confronted him with their child—something he was well aware of, but from which he had been running away. Faced with the harsh reality of his actions and the ramifications they had on the world beyond his own feelings, he ran even farther away from responsibility. In telling the story to Annie, he says, “I couldn’t play any of those songs anymore, you know? After that, I just... I couldn’t play these insipid, self-pitying songs about Julie breaking my heart. You know, they were a joke. And before I know it, a couple of decades have gone by and some doctor hands me... hands me Jackson. I hold him, you know, and I look at him. And I know that this boy. . . is my last chance.”

When we first meet Crowe, he’s now dedicated his life to raising his youngest son, having at this point messed up with four previous children. The many facets of parenthood is something that shows up in Hawke’s later body of work many times, in projects as wholly different as Brooklyn’s Finest, Before Midnight, Boyhood, Maggie’s Plan, First Reformed, and even his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness. In each of these projects, decisions made by Hawke’s characters have a big impact on their children’s lives. These films explore the financial pressures of parenthood, the quirks of blended families, the impact of absent fathers, and even the tragedy of a father’s wishes acquiesced without question. Hawke’s take on parenthood is that of flawed men always striving to overcome the worst of themselves for the betterment of the next generation, often with mixed results.

Where Juliet, Naked showed a potential arc of redemption for a father gone astray, First Reformed paints a bleaker portrait. Hawke plays Pastor Toller, a man of the cloth struggling with his own faith who attempts to counsel an environmental activist whose impending fatherhood has driven him to suicidal despair. Toller himself is struggling under the weight of fatherhood, believing he sent his own son to die a needless death in a morally bankrupt war. Sharing the story, he says “My father taught at VMI. I encouraged my son to enlist. It was the family tradition. Like his father, his grandfather. Patriotic tradition. My wife was very opposed. But he enlisted against her wishes. . . . Six months later he was killed in Iraq. There was no moral justification for this conflict. My wife could not live with me after that. Who could blame her? I left the military. Reverend Jeffers at Abundant Life Church heard about my situation. They offered me a position at First Reformed. And here I am.” How do we carry the weight of actions that affect lives that are not even our own?

If Peter Weir set the father figure template in Dead Poets Society, and Paul Schrader explored the consequences of direct parental influence on their children’s lives, director Richard Linklater subverts the idea of a mentor-guide in Boyhood, showing both parents are as lost as the kid himself. When young Mason (Ellar Coltrane) asks his dad (Hawke) what’s the point of everything, his reply is “I sure as shit don’t know. Nobody does. We’re all just winging it.” As the film ends, Mason sits atop a mountain with a new friend he’s made in the dorms discussing time. She says that everyone is always talking about seize the moment—carpe diem!—but she thinks it’s the other way around. That the moments seize us. In Reality Bites, Troy gets annoyed at Lelaina’s constant need to “memorex” everything with her camcorder, yet Boyhood is a film about capturing a life over a 12-year period. The Before Trilogy checks in on Jesse and Celine every nine years. Hawke’s entire career. in fact, has captured his growth from an awkward teen to a prolific artist and devoted father, a master of his craft and philosopher at heart.

#ethan hawke #boyhood #before trilogy #before midnight #before sunset #before sunrise #reality bites #first reformed #dead poets society #a bright ray of darkness #film writing #film essay #musings #oscilloscope laboratories

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suitetarts · 3 years

Text

pockets full of stone

A mer-may collab with @miranhas-art 💙 See below the cut for another gorgeous Mari illustration! ... and my fic

Din Djarin nearly dies (again) and meets someone from the stories he heard as a child. He didn’t expect them to be so sassy, though.

Rating: General Word Count: 2.8k Warning: Description of drowning, thoughts of death, vomiting (water) AO3 Link

A push, grunt, then a large splash into the lake’s dark and chilled waters.

This was the last time Din was going to talk business on a pier without his jetpack. He knew the bounty was desperate, and for Maker’s sake, the Quarren had thrown his body weight around earlier on the Crest trying to piss Din off by scaring the kid. He should have known better.

Din pulls himself back to the present and away from any blame. He could worry about that later. Or never, and he supposes he’ll find that out soon. His whole body feels incredibly heavy, much more than what he has grown used to over the years. Where metal meets man, he is dragged down; the weight of his padding and armor applying an inescapable pressure as the moonlight fades to black above him. He tries pulling at the water with his arms while kicking with his legs, grasping for anything, but still he feels himself sinking deeper.

Wait, the… Who would take care of the baby if Din can’t....

His breaths are coming fast as he tries and fails to calm himself. Keeping his body upright means that the water still hasn’t crept into his helmet, which is something he can work with. But only for a short few moments. Din realizes he’s probably going to run out of breathable air before he reaches the bottom of this icy lake, much less walk out of it, as he continues to sink.

Din’s mind begins to fog as he figures he might be able to save himself if he loses some of the beskar. He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on this, as close to his heart and soul the beskar may be. The armor will be at the bottom of the lake whether he succeeds or fails, so he gets going. His normally nimble fingers are cold and difficult, and they fail to find purchase on the slippery latches of his pauldrons. The cape wrapped around his chestplate in such a way to make it nearly impossible to remove without being able to look down and see it. His head lolls forward, allowing water to rush into his helmet and the dwindling air pocket. Din’s mouth and nose are full of water, his throat contracts, his chest stutters, his lungs burn. He can’t focus on the latches to his armor or removing his belts, all he can feel is the cold depths rushing all around and within.

Fuck.

The Mandalorian reflects for a moment. He’s done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. This is it. He’s flirted with this for years, and it's finally here. Is it honorable? Probably not. Is it what he deserves? Most likely. What’s his legacy? A lifetime spent trying to be worthy of being saved, only to waste it. Figures.

Before Din lost consciousness, two glowing blue lights rushed towards him, but he was too far gone to care. He was finally warm.

Death is a funny thing. No one really knows what happens in the instant before it actually happens. Everyone says they know, but obviously they don’t. There’s no certainty in death, just like in life. What happens to someone when they cross the veil, from one world to the next? If it's anything like traveling at lightspeed, Din knew that like the back of his hand. A shudder felt through the hull, a pause, and then that’s it. Silence and flashes of stars, except perhaps these would fade to black before long. What would he see in those stars? A story?

If Din was to see a story before he died, he knew plenty of them. He had once been fond of the stories that came from strangers. He would beg his father to take him to the cantina, to let him sit in the dirty booths and eavesdrop on the travelers talking about their recent journeys to Coruscant or to any number of exotic planets in the outer rim. The idea of being totally free to do whatever Din wanted in the whole entire galaxy was so thrilling, especially compared to his reality of being tied down to his father’s shop in the bazaar forever. What kind of story would that make for, compared to what was out there in the stars? There were dashing pilots, gunners and soldiers, merchants, bounty hunters, peacekeepers, missionaries. Stories of war in far off places, of mysterious species unlike anything he’d ever dreamed, of personal loss, of unexpected love. Whenever he asked to go -- before, that is -- his mother would give his father a look, one that was always angled so that Din couldn’t see, and then his father would relent and take the young boy out for the afternoon. But eventually, both of them would shush him when he asked. They stayed inside, ‘it’s not a good day’ his mother said, and kept the store closed. There were whispers of war, a real war. The whispers were exciting to Din at first, they reminded him of the stories. The heroes were going to swoop in to stop the bad guys and put everything back to normal. But then the whispers grew into screams, explosions, shooting. Where were the heroes? All the thrilling things he had heard in the cantina, but terrifying and happening to him with no one here to--

Stop. Din’s dead, and yet he continues to torture himself. If he gets one last laugh, it should be at himself.

Din didn’t want a story, or to relive his life. What about something he never got to do? He had always hoped that he could live in a fantasy, if only for a moment, where he could have a simple life. A moisture farmer on some backwater planet, or a working class mechanic for a Mid Rim starport. Although that was never a life he would actually want for himself, a simple life was always a nice thought for a different Din. One who wasn’t so…. damaged.

So here he is, a man on the brink of death. Is he seeing his life flash painfully before him again, is he living in a dream, is he nowhere at all?

A kiss. He’s being kissed.

Now, Din had never kissed anyone on the lips in life. He knew the steps, the basic mechanics, but he imagined that it was a much different experience to be kissing an actual active participant and not just the skin on the back of his own hand. There was a certain give and take that he was looking forward to -- a dance, a battle of will fought with plush lips and soft tongues. Even beyond the direct battlefield, there was the periphery of where one’s hands would be, knees intertwined, legs weak and swaying. His arm wrapped around their waist and his fingers brushing tenderly over their cheek, while they pull him in by the shoulders until they melt together.

He would have much rather died in a kiss like that.

In this brief moment of purgatory, however, he can settle for this one chaste kiss. This ‘kiss’ he is having now, if it’s to be called that, is… Hmm. It isn’t what Din imagined. Everything is dark, and it's not anything like a dance. This person seems to be gasping into him with their mouth wide open, like a fish out of water. Whoever he’s kissing has clearly never done this before either, otherwise why in Maker’s name would anyone want to kiss again? He strains his arms to reach forward at whatever is capturing his lips, but he can’t find his strength. He had never known that kissing would need to be so rushed, or involve so much blowing of air? He --

Oh.

Din grunts around a cough, finding himself on his back and in quite a bit of pain. His insides feel like they are saturated and about to burst. He rolls over onto his hands and knees on the muddy banks of the far side of the lake so that he can proceed to throw up an obscene amount of water, which only makes the burning in his lungs more and more painful with each heave.

A sigh of relief, a soft voice breaking through the silt caked in his ears which seems to speak only above a whisper. “I-I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Din freezes. The discomfort and pained heat in his chest is nothing compared to the inferno under the bare skin of his face. He continues to stare at the ground, but shifts his eyes up so that he is looking in the direction of his savior.

A human, scantily-clad with only a dark cloth wrapped around their chest and some sort of leather skirt, sits in front of him on the rocks, their legs still partially submerged in the murky lake water. They thumb at their wet lips as they smile at him, and he feels a blush creep from his face all the way down his chest. Those glistening, smiling lips had been on his lips.

His lips.

His face.

The Creed.

Despite a sensible voice in Din’s head trying to remind him that they had saved his life, despite the weakness that pervaded every inch of his body, a flare of anger rises in him. He is dar’manda now, because of them.

He pulls himself up into a seated position on the lakeside and puffs out his chest, only to find the pain evaporating his anger. “What did you do….” he asks himself.

Their smile fades as their brows furrow. “I think that’s pretty obvious. I saved your life.”

“I didn’t mean-- My life?” Din sighs around a laugh. He’s done this before, hasn’t he? Why’s this different from the cantina? Because this person isn’t made of metal? He knew going along with anything less than what the Creed requires of him would become a slippery slope. The tears come easily and he does nothing to stop them. “No, my life is over.”

They set one of their hands on the rock beside them, leaning their weight onto it and towards him. They open their mouth around a smirk, then pause. They start again, but with a blank sincere expression. “Why’s that?”

It’s probably the adrenaline from nearly dying and being unmasked again, but for a moment Din considers grabbing their arm and pulling them in for a real kiss. What does it matter now? His body shows no signs of his thoughts, not a single twitch of muscle, but his face must be betraying him as he watches their eyes train in on his as they purse their lips and smile with their dark, shimmering eyes. Whatever blush he still had on his face grew a shade darker.

“You’re a bold one.” They say around a smile, their long fingers twisting through their hair.

Din squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from them, towards the dark sky full of stars. His voice cracks as he gives weight to the words running through his mind, to the feeling of emptiness inside. “I’m dar’manda.”

They snort, and Din can’t help but whip his head at them.

“Can’t be that big of a deal if I’ve never heard of it.”

Din expected them to not know, but not for them to be so arrogant about it. He had an explanation ready, but since he was caught off guard and doesn’t want to get lost in the weeds with this person, he summarizes the summary as, “It means I’m done. I can’t wear the armor anymore.”

“Because I saved you?”

“Because you’ve seen me,” Din explains, finding the familiar words of his Creed. “No living thing can see me without the helmet. That’s… that’s the one rule. And I broke it.”

“But I’m the one who broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They blow a raspberry and wave at the air with their free hand. “You humans really can be so dramatic.”

Din pauses, squinting up at the twinkling stars as he absorbs their words. Well. Now he’s curious. He brings his gaze back down at his savior. It's dark and he’d just drowned, but he didn’t see anything… off.

“You seem human to me,” he says as he turns over and sits back on his haunches.

“You seem duller than I hoped.” They bite their lips around a smile as they laugh softly. They pull their legs out of the water; the skirt seems to shine iridescent in the moonlight, like facets of a precious gemstone. Their feet were…. Hm. Their skirt, their legs, are covered in leather? No, scales….

Din finds his mouth gaping as he stares at a tail, the fin slapping wetly against the rocks in step with the drum of their fingers against their thighs -- singular, thigh?

As he struggles to think of a good first question, they purse their lips in thought. “Let me go get your hat,” they say before quickly slipping back into the lake.

“W-wait, it’s not a...,” Din calls out stupidly, launching himself slowly and awkwardly from his haunches and reaching out in the empty air where they once were.

This can’t be real. Mystical, intelligent beings with the head and upper body of a human, but the fins and tail of a fish. He was more than familiar with the stories, but such creatures were just children’s tales. Although, what was fiction now that he is taking care of a fifty year old infant with telekinetic powers? The galaxy was a big place, he supposed.

The mer-person seems to come back just as fast as they’d left, setting Din’s helmet on the shore at his feet before pulling themselves back up to sit their colorfully-scaled behind on the rocks.

Din reaches down and fumbles for a moment with the beskar, checking the inside before placing it back on his head. The pads are damp and uncomfortable, but not any more uncomfortable than feeling so exposed. “Thank you.”

“It's no problem, hat boy,” they prod as they casually clean their fingernails. Din bristles.

“It’s not a hat.”

“And I’m not alive,” they say seriously, looking at Din’s eyes through the visor somehow. The jovial tone fades to a comfortable yet tense silence. He tilts his head, waiting for them to continue their thought.

“Why get yourself all worked up? No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway.”

“I would know,” Din states softly. The tension dissipates but the two stay motionless. Din contemplates and shrugs minutely in defeat. He would know, yes, but he already knows. This isn’t the first time he’s failed when his Creed has been tested. Yet, who would argue whether droids or mer-people are ‘living beings’? The line is blurry, so it's up to Din to decide when the line is crossed. Considering his responsibility to his foundling’s care, he pushes the thoughts of being dar’manda far from his focus, into hiding in the recess.

Ripples from the lake, bouncing moonlight off of its surface, catches his attention. Save for a brief fading view of two blue lights in the dark water, nothing. They are gone, and Din is alone. His wet lungs wheeze as he reaches down, patting along the areas where they had been, searching for any remnants of their existence. An imprint, a misplaced item, a loose scale. Not a trace.

After a moment, Din pulls himself to his feet and trudges up through the pocket of trees surrounding the lake to a small path leading back to the pier. It had only been ten minutes or so since he had been pushed into the lake, but the bounty and his client were gone. Din assumed they both left giddily, since the bounty could think he was dead and the client didn’t have to pay the back half of his premium. Wasn’t the first time, after all.

The Razor Crest’s security lights flickered to life as her prodigal son returned, the side bay ramp welcoming him inside with a flick of the wrist. As Din walked up the ramp, he was faced with an empty carbonite rack -- and more accurately, what amounted to an empty coffer. He wondered if he still had some of the murky lake water swimming through his brain because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The beskar helmet quickly pivoted away from the carbonite chamber as he heard a grumble and the shuffling of blankets. The baby stirred from their shared cot, chirping and cooing to be held. Din crossed the hold with long, swift strides and obliged, removing his damp and filthy gloves to thumb over the baby’s warm cheeks.

Din sucked in a breath to speak, but paused. No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway. He would always know, but… He had nothing to hide from his sweet little foundling.

Din sat on the floor below the cot, leaning against the wall as he cradled the sleepy babe in the crook of his legs. The lake water dripped off of him slowly, glinting in the safe yellow glow of home as Din told a story.

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #original gender-neutral character #mermay #mando mermay #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #fic and art collab #gen fic #no romance or smut #pov din djarin #din centric #mando may

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sakuatsu · 4 years

Note

YELL 2 ME ABT SAKUATSU FIC RECS PLS

oh boy. oh boy do i have much to talk about

here’s a list of my sakuatsu must-reads under the cut! complete with links, word count, ratings, and occasional commentary because i’m incapable of shutting up. this isn’t in any particular order either

(keeping this sfw and organized into canonverse/AUs. a * means i am on my hands and knees begging for you to read this)

i’ll try to update this somewhat regularly :]

most recently updated august 25, 2020!

canonverse:

*your highs and lows (series) by astroeulogy

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

this is like the sakuatsu series but it’s blasphemous to not recommend. the first fic in the series is all that you were (4.6k, T). mind the ratings on a few of the fics, but my personal favorite is #3: a masterpiece of domesticity called you have tamed me (5.7k, T). these make me ACHE

*sakuatsu domesticity simulator by pseudoanalytics (T)

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

this fic...this fic...op is literally one of my favorite artists of all time but Did You Know that their writing is also off the charts. what a wonderful use of second person and the pacing is so good. too much skill in one person

*The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets by isaksara (11.4k, M)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

i think this is the fic that got me into sakuatsu in the first place lol i was looking very specifically for msby socmed fics and now here we are. this fic is unbelievably funny

*liminal spaces by hhatsuna (25.9k, T)

Fuck you, Atsumu thinks, pointing at the pixelated Sakusa in the grainy team photo on his bedside table.

It’s easier than you’d think to ignore loving your teammate.

*Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (15.7k, M)

Where “You already make me the happiest guy alive, babe," gives way to, “I’ve not been happy for a while now.”

Alternatively known as the ‘mug fic’.

yes this is a breakup fic. yes im going to recommend it anyway. breakup fics usually scare me a lot but this one is too good for me to not say anything about. nuanced and delicious. i look at the mug on my desk and feel pain

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (8.4k, T)

You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Koi no Yokan; 恋の予感 by ymra (15.3k, unrated)

Wherein Sakusa dreams of his future selves and discovers a little something along the way.

autumn ends, but we remain by wolfsbvne (5.3k, T)

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

your fingertips, branding irons by Ceryna (5.8k, T)

Between the accidental touches he's reconciled, the deliberate ones he's endured, and, from those he's built years of trust with, obliged– Kiyoomi has never wanted to let someone indulge.

Never, until Atsumu.

take what’s yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (5.9k, T)

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

every action has an equal and opposite reaction by akanemnida (10.4k, T)

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

*where i want to be by tookumade (8.8k, G)

In the time they’ve been teammates at the MSBY Black Jackals, Sakusa has never been to Atsumu’s place, and Atsumu has only been to Sakusa’s a few times. There’s an unspoken understanding here: that Atsumu knows him well enough to know that nobody’s house or apartment would ever really meet his ridiculously high standards, and he is most comfortable in the home he’s made for himself.

That, and, Atsumu being over at Sakusa’s means that he has to host him and do the cleaning afterwards, while Atsumu can just flit off back to his own place. So. There’s that.

Tonight. Tonight is not business as usual. Tonight is not familiar.

*san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (8.1k, T)

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (10.8k, T)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

four leaf clover by vicari_us (5.9k, T)

Once, Ushijima claimed that they ‘got lucky’. If properly honed, their body types could become near invincible weapons.

However, unlike Ushijima, Kiyoomi’s weapon required a bit more care over the years to reach the condition it had become. He was born iron, not yet forged into steel.

Exploring what it might have taken to turn a genetic mistake into an athletic miracle.

*the 28 postcards you left me by wheelspokes (8.3k, T)

Atsumu takes texting your ex to a new level by sending Sakusa postcards in Animal Crossing instead.

such a unique premise & this is so beautifully structured. stunning flow and who knew animal crossing could convey so much longing...

AUs:

Pas De Deux by hhatsuna (dancer!sakusa au: 19.0k, T)

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes, and the twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?” Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

*my love, take your time by bastigod (archaeologist!sakusa au: 9.0k, T)

There was something sublime about wandering around an empty museum. Nothing could compare to the sound of his shoes clacking against the marble floor, the morning sunlight gently streaming through the lofty windows and the peaceful solitude of ancient stone kings overseeing their silent kingdoms.

A day in the life of Doctor Kiyoomi Sakusa, Archaeologist.

i’ve literally been thinking about this fic every day since it came out. you will not find a story like this anywhere else, i guarantee you. what a clear labor of love this fic is it’s truly something so special

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (surgeon!sakusa & microbiologist!atsumu au: 19.7k, T)

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

*Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (ogre spirit!sakusa au: 6.7k, T)

For the last twenty years, Atsumu’s done all that he can to break his betrothal to the ogre spirit Sakusa. If he can just make it through one more night, he’ll be free.

honestly, just read everything by astroeulogy. i’m recommending this fic in particular because it has such an ethereal voice to it. magical

across oceans, across centuries by starstrikes (pacific rim au: 20.0k, T)

Six days ago, Osamu died and left Atsumu with this: Atsumu, you have to—

(Namikira rises with the tides and rips Osamu and Vulpis Empress away in one fell swoop. Six days later, Atsumu wakes up alone in a hospital bed and learns how to swim.)

you don’t actually need to know pacrim to appreciate this. a wonderful exploration of grief and recovery. also it’s exactly 20k words which is both satisfying and terrifying

*Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (ice skating/dancing au: 20.8k, T)

"Your partner doesn't need to hold anyone's hand other than yours," Sakusa's father crouches, "And you can wear gloves."

Sakusa ponders. He hears the other skaters of rink two whiz past as they launch themselves into lifts.

"Alright," He looks up from the ice, not knowing how he'll dedicate the next couple of decades to this sport, this partnership, this boy.

what a stunning fic. a beautiful progression of sakusa & atsumu’s relationship, rife with references to real skating programs, beautifully written and structured. so full of longing i’m in mild physical pain

#if anyone else has recs feel free to drop them in the replies mwah #sakuatsu fic is SO high quality you can literally just look at the tag and blindly press and find something stunning #these are just my personal favorites #basically just my ao3 bookmarks and then some #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu fic #haikyuu fic #ask #reynegades #thank you for asking.....ive been dying to make a fic rec post i just needed a push lol #fic

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sassyduckqueen · 3 years

Text

Miraculous: Rise of Anatis 61

So this is officially the first chapter of my season 4. There will be a number of made up akumas in this season including some of the designs I've already released and there will also be the rest of the season 3 akumas I haven't used. I also hope you guys are ready for some lore because I will be diving more into that side of the story throughout this season. I'm very excited for what I have planned for this "season". Anyway, here's Neon Queen who is based on one of my real life friends :D The next chapter will be Kwami Buster! So yay for Mouse!Luka XD Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :D

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Chapter Sixty-One: Neon Queen

~Roth Studios~

"Like why do I have to do a competition again?" XY asked as he sat looking at his agent with a blank expression before he picked up his soda and drank some. He put it back down and yanked his hand from the nail technician who was working on them. He frowned as he glanced at them. His agent sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"It's for good publicity," He explained as XY berated the nail technician. "Record sales has gone down since your father's arrest,"

"And that's my problem how?"

"We need the world to see you as a good person, far from your father's actions," He stated, making XY give him a look. "Doing a contest for someone to win a VIP experience and a chance to meet you will help with that,"

"Fine," He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just make sure whoever wins it isn't boring,"

"Well, the winner will be random," His agent stated, making him roll his eyes.

"Whatever," He stated, waving his free hand in a dismissive manner. His agent shook his head before walking out of the room. He took out his mobile and dialled a number.

"Alec, it's Steve," He stated when the other person answered it. "I need your help in creating a contest to win a VIP experience with XY,"

~A few days later at the Arc De Triomphe~

Anatis sighed as he flicked through his notes about Miracle Queen and the events of the New York attack. It had been about three weeks since Miracle Queen had stuck and going to New York had been a welcome distraction. However, Hawkmoth tried to start WW3 and had overtaken the heroes again. He had managed to keep his cool throughout the whole thing since he had managed to get away before he could be affected but he needed to come up with back up plans in case he ever got compromised again or if any other hero did. Since Miracle Queen, he had started to look into ways to protect himself and Lady Noir from mind controlled again but the events of New York had driven him farther. Prevention was the best way to help the world but he would have to have a back up plan in case he wasn't able to do that, which is why he had added a new code to their original one. Code Red. It was a code he never wanted to add but since he had been mind controlled happened more then once, he had to take precautions for the future. Unlike the other codes that simply told them the situation, Code Red also came with something else. A password to a file on Master Fu's computer. Since heroes day, he had been making videos on how to take down himself and his team should they ever be compromised or turn rogue. He didn't think he would need them but since miracle queen and the new york incident, he had changed his mind. He still hope no one would need to use them but just in case, he or his team got compromised, someone would need access to them. The most obvious person would be Master Fu or Lady Noir but should they be compromised too, someone else would have to take over which is why he intended to have the message sent to Koro. While he didn't trust her, she was the obvious choice if everyone was compromised. Especially since she might be able to break them out of been mind controlled again. Well... Bunnyx might be a good person to send this too as well. If he can work out how to send her messages. He sighed to himself before taking out his yoyo and set it up to film himself, pressing record before he looked into the camera.

"I'm not sure how to start this video so I'll just get into it," He stated, running his fingers through his hair before he glanced at the video. "If you are watching then a Code Red has occurred and I have been compromise by an akuma.... well, then I need you to fight in my place instead. If you happen to hold a miraculous that can break mind control on a person then I urge you to use that first as what I will say in this video is intended as a last resort... if you can break me out of control then click on the second attachment of this message and put in the passcode Anatis must fall. Capital A, no spaces. This will allow you access to a video I made after heroes day. It details how to neutralize me but even though I came up with it, I can't promise it will work. Your best chance is to break the akuma's control on me, steal my charm when I summon it or even use a recording of my voice to activate it. Once that happens, you can use it to defeat the akuma and cause the cure. The cure can be activated by anyone as long as the words Miraculous Ladybugs is called out. I hope it never comes to anyone seeing this message but I guess it's best to be prepared..."

He sighed before leaning over to switch off the video.

"Bug out for now..." He stated, switching it off before grabbing his yoyo and saving it. He typed away on it, using a command to send it to Lady Noir, Master Fu's computer or Koro if he was compromised but hopefully it would never come to that. With that done, he closed his yoyo and stood up before diving off the building and swinging into the city. A few people cheered as he swung by, making him feel better but he still had a lot of things on his mind. Master Fu hadn't told him anything else about the history of the guardians and since Koro turned up, he seemed more closed off then normal. He had asked him about it but he would just shut him down as if it didn't matter. He still had no idea who Su Han was or why Koro left the guardians. Master Fu didn't have the answers but it's not like he could ask Koro. For one, he didn't know her civilian identity, two he hadn't actually seen her since Miracle Queen and finally, he didn't trust her. Part of him felt like he could but he questioned it as she had been in Paris since Hawkmoth had turned up and had done nothing to stop him or to try and help him. There was the whole thing with her and Toutai. He still didn't have answers on that yet either. He hadn't sensed or met with Toutai since that time and Feng wasn't telling him much about it either. Just kept saying it wasn't the right time or some other riddle that was frustrating him. He frowned as he landed on the Liberty's roof before slipping into his room and detransforming. He caught Tikki and put her into her bed before grabbing her a cookie. She smiled tiredly and took it as Luka sat at his computer and opened chrome. He waited for it to load before he began to type.

How to protect myself from mind control

Results:

how to recognize gaslighting

how to stop someone from manipulating you

He sighed before deleting and typing again.

How to protect myself from been hypnotized

Results:

Learn how to be a magician- video

Ten steps to regain yourself

He sighed again before typing in a final search.

How do I protect myself from psychic attacks

Results:

Stones and Talismans of Witchcraft

Spells to block Psychics

Luka hovered the mouse over the first result before clicking on it. He began to read through it as he took in the information. Apparently, different crystals and stones had different properties that can used to help a wearer in certain ways. Like Amber is excellent for protecting one against psychic attacks but also it helps the user connect with it's aura. Given that he seems to have some sort of connection to an ancient mage, he felt like Amber could help him reconnect with the spiritual side and Feng more than he already has. He sighed and looked over at Tikki.

"Tikki?"

"Hmm?" She asked, looking up from her cookie.

"What's your thoughts on crystals and stones?" He asked, making her blink. "Can crystals have a magical abilities?"

"Of course they can," She smiled, making him blink. "Especially if they've been blessed by a kwami or a spirit. Why?"

"I'm thinking getting an amber tailment to help protect me from mind control..." He admitted, feeling a little silly now that he said it out loud. "That's stupid right?"

"No, I don't think it is," She stated, making him look at him. "Magic is real, Luka. It's just not everyone practices it anymore. Besides, I can bless the taisment for you,"

"You'd do that?" He asked as she flew over and gently hugged his cheek.

"Of course," She smiled, making him smile back. "You're my friend, Luka and I don't want to see you hurt,"

"Thank you, Tikki," He smiled, gently holding her in his hands before he yawned. "I think I should go to bed for now... maybe I won't have a nightmare tonight,"

Tikki frowned a little at his comment. Luka had been having nightmares a lot recently but she couldn't blame him. He had suffered a lot but that's what didn't concern her. At first, they had been nightmares about his stepfather coming back and then Miracle Queen taking over him again or him failing to stop Hawkmoth from destroying the world but in the last week, they had changed. He had started to dream of a sea monster and Paris been flooded. At first, she thought he was having flashbacks of syren but it really didn't make much sense that he would. If that had been the case, why now? Not just that but the sea monster he described sounded nothing like syren but more like the leviathan or Cthulhu. She wasn't sure what he was dreaming off or why but she had to admit, it was scaring her as much as it was scaring Luka. She had hoped it was just a bad dream but seeing Luka jolt awake and scream from his dreams reminded her of when Feng use to do the same. It made her wonder more about his connection to the mage and if something she thought was impossible had actually occurred. She wanted to investigate it further but at the same time, she was afraid of what it might mean if it turned out that way.

"Tikki?" Luka asked, making her look at him. He had a look of concern on his face. "Are you ok?"

"Don't worry about me," She smiled, floating up and gently kissing his nose. "Go to bed,"

"Alright," He nodded before shutting down his computer and changing into his PJs. Once that was done, he climbed into bed and turned off his light, curling up as Tikki floated over and curled up next to him.

~A Couple of Days Later~

Luka took a deep breath as he walked over to the door of a crystal store called Brésilophile. He pushed it open and walked inside, looking around. The woman at the counter looked up and with a tired sigh, addressed him.

"If you're looking for an akuma charms, I don't have any," She stated, making him frown a little.

"Actually... I'm kind of new to... this and I'm looking for something to protect against mind... mental attacks..." He stated nervously as he walked over. She rose an eyebrow. "Um... this might sound crazy but I'm an empath and-"

"Oh, so you need something to cleanse and protect from negative influences and psychic attacks," She stated, smiling. He bit his lip and nodded. "Well, I highly recommend Amber. It helps balancing emotions, attracting good luck, eliminating fears and clearing the mind. It also dissolves any negative energy and helps to develop patience and wisdom. It is an excellent choice for an empath,"

"Do you have any bracelets or necklaces made from it?" He asked, making her nod before she grabbed a couple of them. There were different types of bracelets and necklaces but he found himself drawn to a simple pendant that was rough and jagged looking. "Can I buy that one?"

"Sure," She smiled, putting it through. "You know if you're interested in learning more about the craft, you should go to the Arc en Ciel,"

"The Arc en Ciel?" He asked, taking out cash to pay for his necklace. "What is that and where is it?"

"It's an Esoteric Bookstore that has a lot of different books on spiritualism, modern day wicca and the occult," She explained before telling him where he could find it before giving him the small paper bag she had put the necklace in. He took and thanked her before leaving the store. Once outside, he took it out and looked at it. The gem shined a little and he could always feel an energy coming from it. He put it on before walking back to the boat. Tikki poked her head out.

"Are you gonna go to that bookstore?"

"I don't know," He admitted, looking down. "This is kind of new and I'm not really into witchcraft..."

"It might help you understand your gift," She stated, making him think but part of him felt afraid. Maybe it was because of how Issac reacted and called him a witch but the idea of learning about the occult scared him.. "Maybe it might even help you work out your connection to Master Feng,"

"I'll give it a think," He stated as he walked down the stairs to the Seine. However, his phone buzzed. He took it out and frowned as he saw it was an akuma alert over at the TVi studios. He ran over to the nearly bridge and hid under it. "Well, it looks work calls. Tikki! Spots on!"

He transformed into Anatis and threw his yoyo, collecting it to a flagpole. He yanked it, pulling himself up onto the building before running across the rooftops and landing on the building opposite the TVi studios. He narrowed his eyes as he saw XY run out of the building, shoving people out of the way. A bright green blast caused the doors to blow off, allowing the akuma to step out. She was one of Hawkmoth's more creative ones by the looks of her. She wore a black one piece that had a bright yellow collar on. Her belt was half neon green and half neon yellow with a neon pink belt buckle. It also had neon colored material straps on it. She wore neon yellow stocks with neon pink fishnet pattern on them. On her right leg, she had a garter that was neon green, pink and yellow. Her boots were black with yellow heels and she had one strippy glove while her other one was ripped in places. She wore a black crown on her head that stood out against her hair, which was neon pink that faded into neon green. Her mask was white with paint splatter on it and it only covered one of her eyes, which had bright green iries and black scleas. She also wore neon green lipstick and her skin was a light gray. In her right hand was a neon colored staff that had a sort of eye on top of it. Her eyes were fixed on XY as he struggled to get away from her. Anatis narrowed his eyes before throwing his yoyo and swinging down, grabbing XY and pulling him out of harm's way. He landed on a different building as a butterfly mask appeared around the akuma's eyes. XY took a breathe as she looked up at Anatis.

"Anatis! Give me XY!" She declared, making him frown. "You're supposed to be a hero and I only want to make him understand that his attitude towards his fans isn't cool!"

Anatis ignored her and turned to him.

"What did you do?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Me?! That crazed fan is after me and you're blaming me for it!" He gasped but Anatis didn't say a thing and kept glaring. "Ugh! Fine! We had a contest for one of my fans to win a VIP experience with me but this kind of dull girl won it and then tried to give me some weird bracelet to 'thank' me for my music, which was kind of lame. I mean why would I want something cheap like that! Anyway, I told her thanks but no thanks,"

"Was it recording?" Anatis asked, making XY nod. He took out his yoyo and watched the video, showing that XY said a lot more then thanks but no thanks. He actually insulted the winner and called her boring and lame live on air. He continued to rip into her, causing her to run off crying. Anatis frowned and closed the yoyo a bit too calmly before he turned to XY. "So you failed to mention you insulted her and made her cry live on TV!"

"Not my fault she'- Ah! What are you doing?!" He gasped as Anatis literally dragged him to the edge and held him over it with his jacket. "You can't!"

"You treat people like crap!" He growled, making XY gulp. "You're a thief and you blame everyone but yourself for your problems! I should hand you over to the akuma because kwami knows you deserve it after the way you treated her but fortunately for you, I'm a hero! However, I suggest you change your ways, Xavier or I'll treat you the same way I treat the villains and Hawkmoth. Got it?!"

"What?! Why?" He gasped, surprised. "I'm not a villain!"

"If you're not part of the solution then you're part of the problem!" Anatis declared, making XY gasp. "You go around treating people badly in a city where a supervillain feeds of negativity and you don't see a problem with that! You still treat people awfully despite knowing that it makes them vulnerable to akumas so as far as I'm concerned, that makes you just as bad as Hawkmoth!"

He pulled him back and pushed him onto the floor, leaving XY shaking a bit.

"Stay out of sight," He ordered in a harsh manner before swinging away. He landed on another building and let out a sigh before dialling Lady Noir's number, causing her to pick up straight away. "Hey, Kitten we have an akuma at the TVi studios,"

"I'm on my way, Annie," She declared before he hung up. He made his way back to the studios and saw the akuma firing at people with her staff, turning them into her minions before she ordered them to find the heroes and XY. Lady Noir landed next to him as he watched. "What do you think?"

"She's a recruiter type and I think her akuma is in her staff," He stated, making her nod. "We need to make sure-"

"Watch out!" Lady Noir gasped, pulling Anatis back and using her baton to block the akuma's attack. However, her minions were beginning to climb up the walls and trying to burst through the doors, surrounding them. Neon Queen jumped up onto the building and tried to fire at them. Anatis threw his yoyo before grabbing Lady Noir around the waist and swinging off with her. She held onto him as they jumped onto a different building before Anatis threw his yoyo in the air.

"Lucky charm!" He declared, catching the small candle. He rose an eyebrow before it clicked. "I need to go get help,"

"Alright," Lady Noir nodded. "Want me to come with or should I keep an eye on the akuma?"

"Keep an eye on the akuma and engage if she begins to attack civilians again," He ordered, making her nod. "I shouldn't be long,"

He gave her sault before diving off and making his way through the city towards Fu's. He frowned and stopped behind a chimney as he had a sudden strange feeling before he looked behind him. Koro jumped down from a building and looked around, making him sigh. Of course, she's been following him. He stepped out, making her frown as she looked at him.

"Why are you following me?" He asked, making her frown a little.

"To ensure you're not compromised again," She stated, making him frown.

"Well, as you can see, I'm not," He stated, gesturing to himself. "Now go home or do whatever it is you do. I don't need a babysitter,"

"You don't trust me," She stated, making him roll his eyes.

"Clearly," He stated, crossing his arms. She gave him an annoyed look. "You just turn up out of nowhere, act like you own the place and stalk me then you expect me to trust you! Well, I don't! Trust and Respect need to be earnt and other then helping us one time because you had no other choice doesn't earn you my respect or trust! Especially since you've been here since the beginning!"

"None of the western box can purify akumas and it wasn't my place to interfere,"

"You could have reached out to Master Fu and let him know that he isn't alone!" He shouted before pinching his nose as his earrings beeped. "I haven't got time for this right now. I have an akuma defeat so just go back to the shadows and leave me alone!"

"Anatis!" She gasped as he threw his yoyo and swung away, making her sigh before she turned back around and jumped away.

~At Master Fu's~

Luka sighed as Master Fu took out the miracle box and placed it in front of him, opening it up. The draws popped out, causing him to focus on it.

"Luka Couffaine, pick an ally you can trust to fight alongside you in this mission," Master Fu stated, causing Luka to take a breathe. "Choose wisely. Such powers are meant to serve the greater good,"

Luka nodded as he looked at them.

"Once the mission is over, you will retrieve the miraculous from them," He stated as Luka reached for the fox and picked it up. "Calling on Culpeo again?"

"She's perfect for this mission," He stated, making Master Fu nod before he got up and pocketed it. He walked over to the window but Master Fu cleared his voice. "Yeah?"

"Are you ok?" Master Fu asked, making Luka frown before he sighed.

"I ran into Koro before I came here," He stated, frowning. "Can we talk about it after the akuma's been dealt with?"

"Of course," Master Fu nodded, causing Luka to nod back before leaving the apartment. He transformed into Anatis and made his way to the Liberty, finding Juleka on the deck alone. He landed in front of her, making her look up at him.

"I need your help with the akuma," He stated, holding out the miraculous. She nodded and took it, putting it on. Trixx manifested and zoomed around her, making her smile.

"Trixx, let's pounce," She declared, transforming into Culpeo before jumping towards where Lady Noir and Neon Queen were fighting. They landed on the rooftop above them before Anatis threw his yoyo in the air and called for his lucky charm, catching it from the air. He rose an eyebrow as it was a length of rope before he glanced around in his luck vision. Culpeo lit up, followed by the rope, a lampost nearby, followed by a tree next to the lamp post and Neon Queen's staff before it finally highlighted Lady Noir. He turned to Culpeo as Lady Noir dodged Neon Queen's attack. "I need you to create an illusion of XY to lure her close to my trap,"

"Alright," Culpeo replied, following him as he jumped down to the lamp post and the tree. He tied the rope into a lasso before wrapping it around the lamp post before using the tree to pull it back, making it into a spring trap that would be triggered the moment Neon Queen stepped on it. He threw his yoyo up to a building and pulled himself onto it. Culpeo followed him before taking her flute out and bringing it to her mouth. She played a few notes on it, creating the ball of light on the end before throwing it towards the street. "Mirage!"

An illusion of XY rushed out and gasped in fear as Neon Queen saw him, taking her attention of Lady Noir.

"Finally!" She gasped, pointing her wand at him and fired at him but he dodged and ran off, causing her to follow. She ran past the building they were on and straight into Anatis' trap. The rope wrapped around her ankle and pulled her up, causing her to drop her wand. Anatis jumped down and grabbed it, throwing it towards Lady Noir.

"Cataclysm!" She declared as she caught it, causing it to turn to rust. She dropped it and crushed it with her foot, causing the akuma to escape as Anatis and Culpeo lowered Neon Queen to the floor. Seeing the akuma, Anatis took out his yoyo and caught it before releasing the purified verison back into the world as Culpeo continued to untie Neon Queen. With her untied, she handed Anatis the rope, allowing him to throw it up in the air and release the cure. It flowed through Paris, fixing all the damage before disappearing. Neon Queen turned back into her normal form, making her blink and look around as Lady Noir came over. Anatis knelt down in front of her and helped her to her feet.

"Anatis? Lady Noir? Culpeo?" She asked, looking confused. "What happened?"

"You were akumatized," He stated, making her blink and look down. "But everything is ok now..."

"I'm sorry," She gasped, looking at him. "I didn't meant to. It's just I was meant to meet XY but he was so mean to me. He said I looked dumb and thumpy and didn't even seem interested in meeting anyone. I wanted to give him this but..."

She looked at the bracelet on her wrist.

"He said it looked cheap..." She mumbled, looking down. "I made it myself but it wasn't good enough..."

"You shouldn't listen to him," Anatis stated, making her look at him. "It is good enough. I think it's awesome that you made it,"

"Thank you," She smiled shyly before taking off the bracelet and handing it to Anatis, making him look at her in surprise. "I think you should have it,"

"Thank you," He replied back, taking it and putting it on his wrist before his ears beeped. "I have to go now,"

She nodded as he stood up and turned to the girls as their miraculous beeped. Lady Noir spun her baton and leaned on it.

"See you for Patrol?" She asked, making him smile and nod. She grinned back before turning to Culpeo. "Good job today, Kit. It was nice to see you again,"

"It was nothing really..." Culpeo mumbled but she had a smile on her face. Lady Noir gave her a kind smile before saulting them both and jumping away. Anatis smiled and turned to Culpeo.

"Time to go," He stated before the two of them jumped off and headed to an alleyway near the Seine. They landed in it, allowing Culpeo to transform back into Juleka. She gave a highfive to Trixx and said goodbye before taking off the necklace and handing it back to Anatis. "Thank you for your help today, Juleka,"

"It was no problem," She smiled shyly before running out of the alleyway. She stopped and waved to him before walking off. He threw his yoyo up and swung over to Master Fu's. He jumped down into the alleyway next to it and detransformed, catching Tikki as he did. He took out a cookie for her and placed her in his pocket as she began to eat it. He walked over to the door and put in the code before heading up to Master Fu's shop. He knocked on the door and entered, causing Master Fu to look up at him before he got up and took out the miracle box. Luka handed him back the fox miraculous before he sat down and let out a sigh.

"Want to tell me what's on your mind?" Master Fu asked as he put back the box. Luka let out a sigh again.

"Koro was following me in case I got controlled again," He stated, making Master Fu frown. "I get that she helped us but she literally just turned up when it suited her and now expects me to work with her?! I get that she might have been under Princess Justice's control but if she wasn't, where was her help then? Or before that? How can she expect me to trust her when she didn't try to help before miracle queen?! She could have tracked you down and let you know that you're not alone! Or she could have build a team to help take down Hawkmoth?! She could have done anything but she did nothing! And now she expects me to trust her!? How do I even know I can?! Does she realize that trust is earned not given?!"

Master Fu remained silent as Luka let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry... it's just..." He sighed, glancing down. "Part of me wants to trust her and I feel bad that I don't but how can I when she didn't even try to help us before Miracle Queen?... Am I been selfish?"

"I don't think so, Luka," Master Fu stated as Luka sat down. "But maybe part of the reason why you feel like you can't trust her is due to recent events? After all, you've been through some very traumatic things recently,"

"Mob Boss has nothing to do with this..." He stated, making Master Fu frown. "I'm annoyed that she just turned up and expects me to trust her instantly... It doesn't help that I can't sleep either!"

"The nightmares again?" Master Fu asked, making Luka sigh.

"They're different," He admitted, making Fu frown. "I keep dreaming of a flooded paris,"

"Syren flashbacks?" Fu asked but the haunted look on Luka's face concerned him.

"No... I don't think it's of the past," He replied, making his mentor frown even more. "I think it's of the future..."

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

Next Chapter: Coming soon

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thefreelanceangel · 3 years

Text

Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

#Shadowbringers #FFXIV #OOC #Yes I had A Lot of Thoughts

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arcticfox007 · 4 years

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The Only One That Matters

Destiel December 2020 Challenge

Heads up, this ended up being long! Continuation of Days 2-6, the Master List is pinned to my profile :)

Day 7: Peppermint (on AO3)

*Charlie never died in my headspace, so, yeah. She threw her laptop into that Nazi’s face, kicked him in the groin, and got away – because that’s what should have happened.*

***

With only 4 days left until Christmas, Dean had decided that going Christmas shopping was another holiday tradition that Cas had yet to experience. Sam had his doubts about this one, he was fairly certain that Dean hadn’t actually been near a mall or shopping plaza this close to the holidays, and possibly didn’t know what he was getting into. In an attempt to avoid disaster, Sam found himself calling Charlie for back-up. If anyone would help him with Operation Angel-Impala (which was the name Charlie quickly gave Sam’s not-really-a-plan), it was the Winchester’s adopted sister.

“Yeah, shopping at a mall right now will probably not encourage warm fuzzy feelings. I’d be shocked if they even made it home without Dean punching someone in the face. I’m really surprised he even suggested it.”

“Charlie, he’s thrown himself into giving Cas the whole Christmas experience. While sickeningly adorable, it’s not like Dean and I even know what that is. I’m pretty sure I was still an infant the last time we had a real tree.” Charlie let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Okay, okay. Give me a minute.” Sam tried to be patient as he heard soft tapping noises, likely from Charlie’s keyboard. “Here’s something. It’s maybe ninety minutes or so away from you guys, but it’s not far from where I am. There’s this historic riverside city that has something called Midnight Madness where all the stores are open late into the night. They have a bunch of sales and decorations, but from the event listing it looks like mostly locals show up, and it’s semi-remote. Ooo, didn’t you say they’d been baking together?”

“Yeah. I’d say that I’ve never seen so much pie in my life, but I live with Dean.” Charlie snickered.

“Well, they have a chocolate making event that people can sign up for. Here. This thing runs every night up until Christmas Eve.” Sam’s phone pinged and he saw Charlie had sent him the link to the Midnight Madness event. He clicked on the chocolate making link and grinned.

“This is perfect Charlie! Now I just need to convince them this is better than the mall.”

“Oh, I have got you covered.” Sam didn’t have the chance to even ask before Dean walked in waving his phone in the air.

“Hey, Charlie just texted me asking if we wanted to go to some Christmas shopping thing with her tonight. I thought this would be a good chance for Cas to get in some more holiday experience.” Sam just laughed and told Dean that they should get ready if he wanted to go and his brother rushed off to tell Cas.

“You’re my favorite sibling Charlie.”

“Well, you got to pick me. You were just stuck with Dean,” Charlie teased. “Anyway, I’m getting us all tickets to the chocolate making thing. Dean can’t say no if it’s a Christmas gift from me and I kind of want to see this new Christmasy Dean for myself. There’s a restaurant and bar called The Phoenix Emporium; we can meet there.” Sam wrote down the bar’s name and address looking forward to having someone to plot against Cas and Dean with (for their own good, of course).

“Thanks again Charlie, we’ll see you later tonight.”

***

Cas had already gotten gifts in preparation for Christmas, so he wasn’t sure why going out Christmas shopping mattered. Even so, he didn’t argue when Dean said they were going out. Dean had been in such a good mood recently that Cas was more than happy to do whatever was asked of him.

Castiel did wonder why Dean was in such a good mood. He’d like to know what it took to get Dean into this type of mindset, for future reference. Maybe it was just celebrating Christmas, but Cas had known Dean for a long time and he’d never seen a holiday make him so happy. Perhaps… well, maybe there was something to what Sam had told him yesterday. Sam had said Dean was better when Cas was around which wasn’t something the angel had ever thought about before. Cas knew that Dean had made him better, and he preferred it when he was with Dean. It had taken him years to work out that he was actually in love with Dean, but he’d been satisfied to just watch over him until Metranon stole his grace and Castiel had become human.

When Cas had woken up after being stabbed by a reaper to find Dean’s concerned and pain-stricken face in front of him – felt Dean’s warm calloused hands cradling his face, well, he hadn’t been able to control his emotions as easily. It didn’t help that Dean had left him on his own only to show up again still acting like he cared. Regaining his grace had did nothing to get his desire for more with Dean under control, despite knowing how unlikely it was that Dean felt the same way. So, why was he even allowing himself to consider the possibility? Cas sighed deeply.

“Cas? Everything okay?” Cas looked up to see Dean’s hypnotizing green eyes glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Cas had conceded ‘shotgun’ to Sam because his legs were so much longer. Sam had his headphones on listening to a podcast and Cas must have stayed quiet for too long after Dean had been talking to him.

“Yes Dean. I apologize, you were saying something about your mother?” Dean’s eyes were back on the road as he responded.

“Uh, yeah. I was just saying that she said she’d stop by the bunker in about a week. I’d hoped she would come for Christmas but she can’t make it.” Cas reached his hand out to gently touch Dean’s shoulder for just a moment, wishing he had a reason to keep his hand there longer.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t be there for Christmas,” Cas said softly. Surprisingly, Dean reached back to stop Castiel’s fingers from moving away. Cas froze, not daring to move a muscle.

“Thanks Cas. I – I just wanted to say that I’m happy you came back home when she left.” Dean briefly squeezed Cas’ fingers before returning his hand to the steering wheel. Castiel slowly pulled his hand back into his lap breathing out a quiet ‘you’re welcome’ in response to Dean’s words. The way Dean had been acting recently, this was why Castiel had started to hope. The car fell silent as he stared at the hand on which the angel could still feel a ghost of Dean’s touch.

***

Dean couldn’t really say no to participating in the chocolate making event when Charlie gave them tickets to attend as a Christmas present. He didn’t even grumble much about it; he didn’t want to make her unhappy and for whatever reason Charlie and Sam were unusually excited about making chocolate. Dean could hear them animatedly debating the merits of milk versus dark chocolate as they walked ahead of him and Cas.

So, Dean had sucked it up and let her lead the way through the Christmas lit streets of the historic town. He had to admit that the town was a great location for Christmas events. The old stone buildings were dripping with colorful lights and there were lit candles in most of the windows. He was happy to see how Cas was looking around with a small smile on his face as he watched a family take their children to different stores looking at the windows and checking something off of a list. Dean looked around and noticed there were a lot of people carrying around the same list. They must have some sort of scavenger hunt going on. He caught Charlie’s sleeve to get her attention.

“Charlie,” Dean whispered. “Do you know what’s up the scavenger hunt?” Charlie gave Dean a confused look.

“Really? You want to know about… alright, hold on.” Bemused, Charlie pulled out a booklet and flipped through. “Here.”

Dean took the paper from her as they continued walking. It was listed as an all-ages window and store hunt with different prizes every night and Dean laughed as he saw what they were supposed to be looking for.

“Cas!” Castiel caught up to Dean a few moments later. “We should do this.” Dean pointed to the event page. Cas gave Dean an all to rare laugh when he saw what Dean was showing him.

“Angel scavenger hunt. You’ve already found plenty of angels, Dean.” Dean playfully bumped Cas’ shoulder.

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one that matters.” Crap, did Dean just say that out loud? “Uh, I mean, c’mon, don’t you want to participate in Christmas traditions? You did ask me for help with that, right?” Cas was staring at him, as if trying to solve a puzzle but Dean just nervously pushed the event booklet into the angel’s hands. “Er, if you don’t want to look for ‘angels’ you can see if there’s something else you’d like to do.” Cas gave Dean a quiet smile and put the booklet in his pocket.

“We should go to Charlie’s chocolate class first, then we can look for other traditions to try.” Dean readily agreed and they hurried to catch up with the others.

***

Sam was impressed with Charlie’s devious but brilliant maneuvering. The chocolate making event was almost entirely couples, and there was only room for two people at most stations. She had managed to get Cas and Dean set up at one table and then set herself and Sam up at a table about two rows back. Charlie had informed Sam that they needed a good vantage point to better access what they were up against for Operation Angel-Impala. Sam could tell that she was entertained by the entire situation, but also honestly invested in Dean’s happiness.

“Y’know Sam, I’m not sure we have to do all that much here. Dean asked me to find out what the scavenger hunt thing going on was, and then I heard him asking Cas if he wanted to do it.” Sam’s jaw dropped.

“Huh, maybe you’re right. I mean, I figured a lot of Dean’s recent effort was because he felt guilty about something Cas told Mom, but volunteering for a cutesy Christmas event seems bit above and beyond if that were the case.” Charlie nodded eagerly.

“And look how they’re all in each other’s space. Anyone else here would assume they are already dating.”

“Yeah, but they’re always like that. Staring at one another for long stretches of time, finding excuses to touch each other… recently Dean is being a lot nicer to Cas though.” Charlie smiled brightly.

“Sam, maybe you should let Dean know you’d be happy for him. If he was with Cas I mean.” Sam looked puzzled.

“Charlie, Dean doesn’t want to talk to me about his feelings. He doesn’t even want to admit he has feeling outside of a love for pie and Baby.”

“Uh-huh. Not to state the obvious but Cas has a dude’s vessel. Have you ever seen Dean hook up with another guy?” Sam’s eyebrows raised and then dropped to a deep furrow.

“Um, no? I don’t care about that though. I mean, maybe that’s part of Dean’s hang-up, but I just want him to have someone in his life that makes him better, happier, more willing to live. Cas does that.” Charlie let out an exasperated sigh.

“Sam Winchester, you need to tell him that! If you’ve never known Dean to have even considered hooking up with a guy, it will help him to know you support him. I’m sure part of him understands you wouldn’t be bothered, but it helps to hear it.” Sam nodded solemnly still looking at his brother who was busy flipping through the chocolate making menu and laughing at something Cas had said.

“Alright Charlie. I can do that. I think I have an idea but we may have to explore some of the art tents later.”

“Deal. Now, to the chocolate, Sam!”

***

Cas didn’t actually care what they were making. Dean had seemed shocked when Cas said he wasn’t familiar with peppermint, so they began working through the instructions on how to make something called peppermint bark. All Cas cared about was how easily Dean was laughing. How often Dean put himself into Cas’ space when it used to be Dean who would lecture the angel about personal space. What Cas really couldn’t stop thinking about was how Dean had told him that he’d found the only angel that mattered when looking at Cas. Cas couldn’t be completely sure what Dean meant by saying that, but he did know that the words had swept through him in a rush of warmth and joy.

Glancing behind Dean, Cas noticed his right wing had wrapped itself around Dean without the angel having been really aware of it. Ever since his wings started to heal Cas found himself wrapping them around Dean more and more. Castiel was still hesitant to share with Dean that he was in love with him, but he was starting to learn new ways to show it. He saw the way Dean relaxed when his wing curled around him. Even though he couldn’t quite feel it, he was somehow sensing their presence.

Cas smiled as Dean wiped chocolate on Cas’ nose. Then he smugly retaliated by sticking a chocolate covered finger into Dean’s ear.

***

“Eugh! No fair Cas!” As gross as the feeling of melted chocolate in his ear was, Dean couldn’t help laughing. Their peppermint bark was in a freezer to help it set faster, although they had been told by one of the volunteers running the event that two bars takes a lot less time than a whole pan. When he looked up at Cas’ self-satisfied grin and chocolate smeared nose Dean dissolved into laughter all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good.

“I can’t help that I have had billions of years to develop my tactical expertise. I’m very good at picking the most advantageous targets for attack.” Cas raised a single eyebrow, the haughty look only ruined by the smile Cas was fighting to hold back. Well, that and the chocolate still on his nose.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up before they bring back our candy bars.” Dean took one of the wipes the volunteers had place around the room and before he could think about it too much, he raised the cloth towards Cas’ face. Dean gently wiped the smudge from Cas’ nose as the angel stared at Dean with a soft look in his blue eyes that Dean couldn’t quite identify.

“There ya go, Cas. Nose smudge eliminated.” Dean winked at Castiel. He wasn’t even that surprised when the angel returned the favor, softly wiping the chocolate from Dean’s ear. Cas kept staring at Dean the whole time. Dean gave the angel another quick smile and finished cleaning up their station, wondering for just a moment what was going on between him and his best friend. Dean decided that he was just going to go along with it for now, he’d try to actually figure it out later. Or possibly never. Either way, he wasn’t going to screw up the awesome night they were having so far.

“What is Charlie doing?” Dean glanced behind him at Sam and Charlie’s table. By the time he looked Charlie seemed to have quickly put away her phone. Dean shrugged.

“I dunno, maybe she’s looking at the other stuff to do here since her booklet is in your pocket.” Cas looked unconvinced but turned back towards Dean anyway.

“Do you really want to participate in this Angel Scavenger Hunt?” Cas asked Dean skeptically.

“Yeah, if you think it might be fun. We are good at hunting things after all. Also, I’d like to go into a few of the stores anyway. I want to get Charlie something for Christmas since she put this all together for us.” Cas thought for a moment and then looked back at Dean.

“Alright. If nothing else I agree we should find a gift for Charlie.” Dean grinned and bumped his shoulder on Cas.

“You asked me to help you with Christmas traditions, Cas. I just want to do a good job.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied seriously. Then Cas turned to see one of the volunteers bringing back their peppermint bark experiment. Dean reached out to take the wrapped bars while Cas thanked the volunteer for helping with the event.

“We should try some before Charlie tries to steal it.” Dean broke off a piece and handed it to Castiel.

“Sam won’t steal it?”

“Nah, he hates white chocolate. Something about pretending to be chocolate and it being a lie. I dunno, he’s dramatic.” Cas tipped his head to the side examining the colorful candy. After another moment he took a small bite. Dean knew he couldn’t really taste much human food, but he also knew peppermint had a strong flavor. Cas chewed slowly. And then took another small bite.

“I can taste some of it, I think. It reminds me of toothpaste.” Cas half smiled as he ate more.

“I’m glad we found something else you can kind of enjoy. We can also get coffee while we’re walking around.” Dean just kept feeling like he had to smile tonight.

“You should try as well, Dean.” Dean took another chunk from one of the bars and was pleasantly surprised by the burst of flavor on his tongue.

“Hey, we did a good job on this stuff!” Cas looked at Dean fondly just before they were interrupted by an energetic redhead grabbing a piece of the bar still in Dean’s grasp.

“Peppermint bark, excellent. Wow, this is good guys, you have hidden talents!”

“Hey, hands off! Where’s yours and Sam’s? We can trade.” Dean was tall enough that he easily held the candy out of Charlie’s reach.

“Sorry Dean, that’s long gone!” Charlie snickered as Sam joined them.

“She’s telling the truth Dean; I barely had any myself.” Charlie snorted in response to Sam’s accusation.

“Don’t listen to him, he had half a bar. So, what do you guys want to do now?”

“Charlie,” began Castiel sincerely, “I want to say thank you for the Christmas gift.” Charlie practically beamed at Cas.

“You are very welcome, Castiel. I’m happy you guys had fun!” Sam and Dean also thanked Charlie.

“Oh, hey. We should get a picture. Go stand in front of that Christmas tree over there. Dean, hold up your bar with Cas.” Charlie took longer than Dean though was needed to make sure he and Cas were posing the way she wanted, but he wasn’t going to complain seeing how the whole night had been her idea. Some passerby even took a picture of all four of them together.

“Hey guys, you mind if we split up for a while?” Sam asked. “I sort of want to check out the crafts tents and Charlie said she’d go with me. I know it’s not really your thing, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure. Cas and I were going to go check out the stores up on the main street. You guys want to meet back at that bar where we started, in maybe two hours? We can get dinner.” Everyone agreed easily and Dean led Cas over to the volunteer station to get the Angel checklist. Dean was really looking forward to finding more ways to make sure Cas knew he belonged.

***

@jellydeans, @galaxycastiel, @my-favourite-hellatus, @nguyenxtrang

#destiel december 2020 #destiel december #destiel fic #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam ships it #charlie supernatural #supernatural #supernatural fic #spn #spn fic #christmas fic #so much fluff

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eljackinton · 4 years

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Jack's End of Year Video Game Round-up.

There were many things I couldn't do this year, being in lockdown and all, which in turn meant I played a hell of a lot more video games than I normally do. Here's a quick rundown of what I thought of them.

Hitman 2

IO have sort of perfected the Hitman formula now, so future entries in the series simply have to ask the question of what new directions you can take that formula. In that regard Hitman 2 is a resounding success, setting sneaking and assassination in scenarios around the world from race tracks to holiday resorts, and thus making it the best entry yet. It's possible one day the Hitman conceit will wear thin, but today is not that day.

Thronebreaker

Most people will go into Thronebreaker just wanting a stand-alone version of the Gwent we played during Witcher 3. Thronebreaker is not that. Indeed, even beyond the changes to the mechanics brought in by the online version, Thronebreaker is more of a puzzle game which uses the mechanics of Gwent to concoct unique scenarios. Still, the story is pretty good and it is fun overall, even if it didn't end up scratching the itch left by Gwent.

Black Mesa (Xen)

I returned to Black Mesa after Xen was finally added, eager to see what the team had come up with. My feelings are complicated. The Xen portions of the game are really well designed, great to play and visually beautiful. However the levels hew so far from the Half-Life originals that it kind of stops feeling like Half-Life. I would have like to have seen a more faithful recreation to be honest.

Neon Struct

If you've been wanting a spiritual sequel to Thief that actually used the mechanics of Thief, here you go. Though low budget, and therefore having somewhat uninspiring visuals based on reused assets, it's still a really impressive game from what the team had to work with, and it's short enough that it doesn't outstay it's welcome.

Acid Spy

I'm generally usually okay at stealth games but this one was well beyond my skill level. Got through the tutorial but just got frustrated and quit on the first mission.

Salting the Earth

A wonderfully put together visual novel about the legacy of war and the nature of national identities. Also you date buff orc women. One of the best VNs I've played, but it does have some pretty bleak potential endings that clash somewhat with the rest of the story's tone.

Hedon

Speaking of buff orc women, Hedon is a vivid, perfectly designed retro-shooter that really uses the most of it's engine to bring it's world to life, with shades of Thief and Strife thrown in there. Wears its hornieness on it's sleeve, but if you can roll with that you'll have nothing but a good time.

The Painscreek Killings

I really really loved this immersive narrative game, where you explore an abandoned town to piece together a series of suspicious deaths. My only gripes are the town looks very British despite being set in the US, and the final confrontation adding a chase scene felt a little over dramatic.

Deus Ex Mankind Divided

There are many problems with Mankind Divided. Trying to find another story to do with Adam Jensen. Making the game more of an open world by taking away the usual Deus Ex globe-trotting. The clumsy use of racial metaphor being applied to cyborgs. All in all the game just didn't really come together, which is a shame, because the DLC showed such promise, and hinted at the real Deus Ex game we could have had.

Warhammer Armageddon DLC

I managed to complete the Salamanders DLC and got stuck near the end of the Blood Angels one. All in all it's simply 'more' of what the base game offered, and I'm not sure it really needed it.

Unavowed

Easily one of the most interesting games I played this year. So good It inspired me to write a cheesy fanfic. Sure the mechanics of applying squad mechanics to a point and click are interesting, but it's the world, the art and the characters themselves that really make this game. Highly recommended.

Devil Daggers

The ultimate distillation of classic shooter mechanics. One platform, one weapon, endless enemies. I didn't get all that far into it and I think most people won't, but I'm not going to complain for the price. Overdue a revisit.

Dream Daddy

A fun and fluffy dating game that actually does a good job of putting you into the mindset of a recently bereaved bisexual dad. Come for the hunks, stay for the really affecting story of a strained relationship between father and daughter.

Greedfall

Greedfall falls short of the mark in most aspects, but I have to give it credit for being one of the few games to give us a Bioware companion-centric adventure during this drought of Bioware games. It lacks the zing of something like Dragon Age, and handles the subject of colonialism really problematically, but if you can get past those issues, it's a fun ride, and a world I'd like to revisit.

Endless Legend

I've been wanting a game to scratch the Alpha Centauri itch for decades now and Endless Legend finally did it. There is a risk of being overwhelmed by the sheer number of unique factions to play, and I know I still haven't really scratched the surface even after 4 full campaigns. Is that a criticism? I suppose it depends if you think you can have too much of a good thing.

Space Hulk Deathwing Enhanced Edition

A valiant effort was put in to make a faithful FPS of the Space Hulk experience, but ultimately it falls far too short. The visuals look great and the game-feel of stomping around as a Space Marine really works, but the game lacks charm and character. Up against Vermintide, there's no comparison.

Sunless Sea

This is a game that feels like a bottomless abyss of secrets and mysteries tied up in a very brutal one-life-only system. I really enjoyed my time with Sunless Seas, with the music calling me like a wailing siren every now and again, yet in many ways I did find it a bit too unforgiving, and it could have benefited from having a bit more of a progression between lives than the almost solid reset it leaves you with.

Age of Empires / 2 / 3 Definitive Editions

The first Age of Empires has an important place in history, but is borderline unplayable by today's standards. Almost every aspect was improved in 2 and going back now feels like trading a car for a horse and cart. It's clear that the game was intending your slow crawl out of the stone age through hunting and gathering to be part of the game in its own right, but today it's just tedious, and the rest of the game is just so slow.

There isn't much to say about Age of Empire 2 that I haven't already said, but I will point out that multiplayer AOE2 has kept me sane over the course of the lockdown, and I'm glad the Definitive Edition enhanced that experience.

Age of Empire 3 tried too hard to reinvent the wheel. Instead of taking 2 and building on it, it instead contorted it around a colonisation theme, and it didn't really work. On top of that, the mechanics really felt they were built more for single-player story missions. The maps are too small, and the expansion factions clash with the rules badly. Still, there is fun to be had, and I'll be checking out the campaigns next year.

Hand of Fate 2

This game takes the original Hand of Fate and adds way, way too much into it. While I appreciate the addition of companions, a longer story mode, and optional side missions, the game is far too experimental with it's formula, and leaves me struggling with complex missions around being lost in a desert or evading barbarian hordes, when all I wanted was a straight forward dungeon crawl. I tapped out two thirds of the way through the campaign.

Wild Guns Reloaded

I love the style and aesthetic, but I just don't have the reflexes (or the gamepad) for these fast paced arcade games.

Vermintide 2 Drakenfels

Fatshark gave us an entire Vermintide campaign for free this year, at the cost of having to be subjected to obnoxious cosmetic micro-tranactions. Hard to say it was worth the price, but Fatshark really do continue to improve, bringing new scope and ideas to every new mission. As good as it gets.

Pendula Swing

A fun little game that apes the visuals of a Baldur's Gate style RPG but the mechanics of a point and click adventure game set in a fantasy version of the roaring twenties. A strong introduction to it's setting but definitely needs building on if we're to see a continuation. A lot of the world-building feels too simple and half-baked at times, and the gameplay feels like too much is going on too fast. Still, a charming story though.

The Shiva / The Blackwell Series

At first I had no idea that Unavowed was connected to a host of other Wadget Eye adventure games, so naturally I had to check them out. I'd known about The Shiva and the Blackwell games for years, but never actually thought about picking them up. Playing them all back to back was a great experience, and almost felt like a prototype to the episodic storytelling many games do today.

Lara Croft and the Guardian of Light/Temple of Osiris

Guardian of Light is a fun, inventive co-op game for killing some time with a friend. The puzzles are often unique and interesting and get you thinking, and the story, while nothing fantastic, is fun enough to keep you interested and have a laugh about with your co-op partner in a B-Movie kind of way. Temple of Osiris adds way too much to the formula, with more characters, mechanics and more open exploration and it absolutely loses the charm of the first game, and even then it's buggy as hell. Skip the second one.

Command and Conquer Remastered

Big chunks of my childhood are taken up with memories of playing Command and Conquer and Red Alert, so it's difficult to really gauge my thoughts on the remaster. On the one hand the art direction looks great and preserves the feel of the original, and the quality of life improvements to the gameplay help make it more playable. The nostalgia hit is also palpable. That being said, the mechanics have not aged all that well, with much of the game being far, far too hard. Probably the best way to experience the genesis of the RTS genre but just know what you're getting in for.

Superhot Mind Control Delete

I wrote a lot at length about how unsure I was about Mind Control Delete at the time, and that's because it does feel a little unsure about itself. Is it a continuation of the first game? A fun bonus mode? A mediation on the nature of addiction? A critique of video game content? A joke on the player? I don't know, but I do know one thing, and that is that Superhot is still as addictive as hell.

Opus Magnum

Zachtronic's steampunk alchemy game requires far too much maths brain than I am capable of , and so I had to rely on guides a lot of the time, but that being said, it's still amazingly put together and vividly presented. Really feels like a game that could be used in schools.

Necromunda Underhive Wars (Story Mode)

I'll be checking out Underhive's Campaign mode in the new year, but for now I just want to talk about the story mode. Much like Mordheim, this is a game that's not going to work for everyone, but I really dug it and like it's unique take on a squad based TBS. However, in many respects the game does feel like a missed opportunity. The storyline is fun enough, and the arsenal robust, but much of the character of the tabletop game, the weird, chaotic, and sometimes comical things that can happen over the course of a battle seems to have been lost in translation, as has the quirky character to a lot of the gangs.

Outer Wilds

There is little I can say about Outer Wilds that hasn't already been said by others, particularly that one should go into the game as blind as possible. A beautiful piece of interactive art, words would fail me in describing it anyway.

Life is Strange 2

Fantastically written, amazingly animated, wonderfully acted, and grim and depressing as all hell. I really love Life is Strange 2, but it it a tough game to bare witness to, especially in 2020. It treats it's subject matter with great maturity, but is so dark it's hard to motivate yourself to continue each gruelling episode. Also, I really think it would have fared better if it had not named itself Life is Strange 2, as not following Max and Chloe turned a lot of people away from a game I think they'd have otherwise enjoyed if they'd named it Wolf Brothers or something.

Half Life 2 / Episodes / Portal / 2/ Mel

After playing Black Mesa earlier this year I decided to revisit the entire Half Life 2 and Portal series. What I concluded is that Half Life 2 is not really all that good. A well told story wrapped around weak combat and average encounter design. This much improves across the episodes of course, but in the end I rather feel Half Life 2 is pretty overrated.

Portal, on the other hand, still feels fresh, though I was surprised I'd forgotten just how much was added in Portal 2, to the point Portal feels more like a game demo. That being said, I think the slowly growing mystery and menace of Portal has aged a lot better than the gagfest the series became with 2. Mel, a stand-alone mod that feels like could be a Portal 3 in it's own right, returns to a more serious tone, and feels all the stronger because of it.

Control

Control has gone from a game I didn't really care about all that much to one of my favourites of the year, if not the decade. Sure there are criticisms I could make, but the world has so much depth, the characters so much potential, and the gameplay such perfectly designed chaos, that it wouldn't really matter. A great time was had.

Icewind Dale 2

Finishing Icewind Dale 2 was the final banishing of the old ghosts of Infinity Engine games I never finished as a kid. Sure there was the nostalgia, but Icewind Dale 2 also feels prefect for the Baldurs Gate era's swan song. Beautiful environments, a well written story and great interface and design, only pulled down due to some overly long busywork at various points and the plot being dragged on a little too long. Still, sad to know I have no further Infinity Engine games left to conquer.

Elsinore

The first half of Elsinore is an absolutely great time-loop mystery, which seems to be an interesting interrogation of Shakespearian tropes and asks the question of how much of a Shakespearian tragedy remains the more you change it. The second half, however, quickly devolves into a cosmic horror story that feels a poor fit for the genre and far too grim for the art style, and that's even before it basically devolves into trying to do the same thing Undertale did but worse. A well put together game whose ending did not sit well with me.

Gwent: The Witcher Card Game

Since Thronebreaker didn't sate my appetite I started playing competitive Gwent. It is a wholly different game than the one that appears in The Wither 3, but is certainly fascinating in it's own right. After 200 hours I am officially addicted, somebody please send help.

And that's that. Not doing a top 5 games of the year because I played too many this year and I've spent too much time thinking about them already. Here's hoping I play less in 2021 and can get back to a more normal life.

#video games

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thebestpersonherelovesbucky · 4 years

Text

People are Alike All Over Part 3

For @whumptober2020

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

Summary: Nightmares, therapy, aftermath.

Read on Ao3

Bucky hears a noise.

He knows that noise.

The key pitched beeping of the keypad lock of his cage.

Bucky smells something.

He knows that smell.

The feed that they force him to eat, shoved into his mouth by the rough, uncaring hands of his handler.

Bucky feels something heavy around his neck.

He knows that feeling.

The collar they locked around his neck.

Bucky’s too afraid to open his eyes again. He knew it’d been too good to be true. There was no rescue. He’s still here. In this godforsaken alien zoo. Naked and on display for entertainment. He shivers. Trembles. Whimpers.

Rumlow is here for him. The man who’s in charge of his training, who beats Bucky if he doesn’t obey, who forces him to do tricks for visitors. He’s going to make him eat that disgusting feed. He’ll mock him.

The bucket lands next to Bucky. Tears slip out of his closed eyes. He wants to plead to a God he’s sure has turned His back on him to take him away from here. Even if that means death. But they won’t let him escape. Not even by taking his own life.

“Did you really think we would let you escape?” Rumlow asks, lips right against Bucky’s ear. “You are ours. Our pathetic little asset. You will never leave here.”

Bucky smothers down a sob. He can’t do this anymore; he just can’t. It’s too much. It’s just too much and he needs it to end.

“Please,” Bucky cries. Stupid. So stupid; he knows that speaking is met with pain, but he can’t help it. “No more. Please, no more.”

“Time to wake up, human.”

“No.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tighter. All this misbehavior is bound to be punished, but he can’t stop himself. “Please. Please. Please.”

“Bucky--”

“No. No, no. No!”

“--come on, wake up.”

Hands land on Bucky’s shoulders and shake. They’re going to hurt him again, he knows it, but he just goes on crying and screaming and begging for them to leave him alone.

“Oh, God, please, let me go! Please!”

“Bucky, baby, come on, open your eyes!”

Someone’s using his name. Bucky doesn’t understand; they don’t use his name. They don’t even acknowledge the fact that he’s a sentient creature. A person with emotions and complex thought and an identity. They took that from him. All of it. Bit by bit.

“Shit, c’mon, baby.” There’s a hand at his cheek. Soft. Tender. Cupping it in strength but safety. “Bucky, sweetheart, you have to wake up. Please. Open your eyes for me.”

It takes hearing his name for a second time for Bucky to realize that he’s not actually saying anything. All he’s doing is screaming at the top of his lungs while someone cups the back of his head and shakes him.

The screaming doesn’t stop, but Bucky does start to pry open his eyes. They’re wet and blurry with tears. What he can make out of the ceiling…it’s not the ceiling of his cage. Not that cold, hard stone. Overhead is plaster. Painted blue. Sky blue with big fluffy clouds. Bucky has a perfect view of it since his head is tilted all the way back. Not just any clouds. They form words.

You’re Safe, Bucky.

“That’s it, that’s right, baby, look at the ceiling. Read the words. You’re safe, Bucky. You’re in a recovery room in a facility in upstate New York.”

New York. Yes, right. That’s right. Things begin to fall into place, the fog of terror lifting and leaving Bucky’s mind a little clearer. He’s in a soft, comfortable bed, his weight being supported by someone else since his body feels limp and weak.

“Bucky, can you look at me? Can you say something?”

His head is coaxed back up and his eyes land on the one holding him. Steve. Steve Rogers is holding him, and somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind he knows that’s right. Unfortunately, his brain seems to be misfiring and he couldn’t respond. Too many thoughts all at once.

The room spins around him in dizzying circles. Fire burned through his lungs and he kept gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. His heart desperately tried to break through his rib and burst from his chest. His cheeks were stained wet with teartracks. Tears continued to drip from his chin.

“Okay. Okay, Bucky, you’re having a panic attack,” Steve says, gently petting a hand over Bucky’s hair and then reaching to the side for something. An oxygen mask. “This will help you breathe; it’s gonna fit over your mouth and nose, and I’ll hold it in place for you. Okay? Blink once if you understand me.”

A panic attack.

Has he ever had a panic attack before? He can’t recall. It then dawns on Bucky that Steve’s asked him to do something. If Bucky doesn’t listen and obey in a timely manner, he’ll be punished. Or, wait, no, maybe it’s not Steve who punishes him. It’s Rumlow.

Rumlow isn’t here. Steve is. And Steve is holding Bucky and trying to comfort him and offering him oxygen to help him breathe. Steve won’t hurt him. Bucky shuts his eyes tight to blink once and let Steve know that he understands him.

“There you go,” Steve murmurs as he slips the oxygen mask of Bucky’s face. “Breathe in deep, honey.”

Through his nose, Steve instructs and then counts as Bucky’s inhales, tells him to hold his breath for a few seconds before allowing him to release it. As he continues doing that, Steve lifts up his other hand.

“I’m gonna put this hand over your fingers,” he explains. “All I’m gonna do is rub your knuckles. Just concentrate on that feeling, okay? Can you do that?”

Remembering his orders, Bucky knows that proper way to respond to that is the blink for yes. Or, wait. No, not orders. Steve doesn’t give him orders. Steve requests things from him. Asks for permission before touching. Which is why that hand is still up. He’s waiting for Bucky to let him know it’s okay to place it down over Bucky’s.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, blocked by the fear that he’s going to do something wrong and be in trouble for it and wake up back in his cage, Bucky knows that it’s also appropriate to nod in answer. Since he can’t quite manage that right now, he blinks again, and Steve slowly lowers his hand. Bucky immediately recognizes the touch. That soft, tender way Steve’s thumb runs over his knuckles. Just as he said.

“That’s it,” Steve says. “You’re doing so good, Bucky. Just keep breathing, nice and deep. Feel my hand in yours. That’s real. This is real. You’re safe. This will pass.”

Little by little, bit by bit, Bucky’s breathing starts to slow. His heartbeat gradually evens. The trembling comes to a stop. A few shivers run up his spine and through his limbs. That, he thinks, is from the chill in the air. Steve must notice it too since he pulls the covers around him.

Now that Bucky’s starting to settle, Steve removes the oxygen mask from his face and sets it aside somewhere else. Things are also starting to clear in Bucky’s mind. He remembers everything. Even the things he wishes he’d forget forever.

Bucky remembers going to bed one night and waking up on a metal table. Realizing halfway through that nightmare that he’d been abducted. Not by people. Not by some horrible, evil human--which would be bad enough--but by aliens. Extraterrestrial beings that, up till that horrifying moment, had been nothing but a scary story. The monsters kids told stories about trying to scare each other and Hollywood made movies about and some people claimed to be real.

At that time, Bucky’d been so sure that no one had ever really been abducted. People who claimed to have been were experiencing something that could be explained away rationally. Bucky even laughed at the idea.

Not so much at the idea of being alone in the world. He’d always imagined there might be other life forms out there. Just not to the extent that he now knows. And certainly not beings that went around collecting life from other planets.

It'd actually taken Bucky quite some time to really believe that he’d been abducted by aliens. He desperately searched for a more rational reason to explain whatever the fuck had been happening.

After a while, though…after hearing them talk about him like he had no reasoning skills or complex thought, after being “trained”, after the beatings and experiments and mistreatment, Bucky finally realized there was no other explanation. There was no hope. If his family and friends were looking for him, they’d never find him.

Turns out, no one had even been looking for him yet.

That’s because Bucky had been taken to a planet in the Black Eye Galaxy, approximately seventeen million lightyears away from home. Each day on their planet is only about an hour in Earth time. The five and a half months Bucky spent in the zoo was only about a week to everyone else, and as an engineering student, particularly a bookworm like Bucky, he was prone to disappearing for days at a time to study.

In fact, the first person who even realized there might be something wrong was his classmate and friend, Shuri, who noticed his week-long absence from class. When her visits to his room and calls went unanswered, she tried getting in touch with their other friends. Of course, none of them had heard from or could get in touch with him either.

Before anyone could panic, S.H.I.E.L.D., an international covert government agency, intercepted a message from their intergalactic division about their most recent mission, including the discovery of one human being.

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury, quickly devised a cover story. Not one that involved alien abductions. Apparently, the story they threw together in just a few hours, or maybe it’s the one they have on hand, is that Bucky had tuberculosis.

Both a feasible and workable lie. Gave Bucky some time to start recuperating before even attempting an actual conversation with someone.

He still isn’t great with that, even these six months later, but he’s getting better.

“Bucky?”

Eyes flicking from the ceiling to Steve, Bucky tries to focus on him. On Steve Rogers, or, as he’s known to his team, Captain America. Recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. for his brain, Steve was selected by a brilliant scientist, Dr. Erskine, for an experimental procedure that made him what he is now.

The serum has enhanced both his body and mind, and Steve joined the Intergalactic Task Force after Dr. Erskine was killed by a Life Model Decoy that infiltrated from unknown origins.

To be honest, Bucky doesn’t really give a shit about any of that. Whatever made Steve the way he is now and whoever the fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. is and whoever the Intergalactic Task Force does…they got Bucky out of that hellhole.

They’ve also given him a therapist who deals with these kinds of trauma. She’s helping him with his PTSD. There are support groups, too. Other victims of varying types of abductions that come together to talk about their experiences. No one’s ever told a story like Bucky’s. Bucky hasn’t shared his with them either.

Maybe one day.

“Tired…” Bucky whispers, and the word, as soft as it is, produces a smile from Steve. Bucky likes it when Steve smiles. He’s very beautiful. He’s always been beautiful.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures him, opening his arms and allowing Bucky to fall into them. “That took a lot out of you. But you did it. You’re okay.”

Bucky nods at this comfort, finding some contentment and safety in Steve’s soft voice and strong presence. He doesn’t know what they are. If there’s even a word for it. Steve hasn’t gone back into the field since he brought Bucky home. Bucky feels safe with him and he’s promised not to leave as long as Bucky wants him to stay.

“Steve?” Bucky clings to Steve’s shirt.

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Can they find me?”

They’ve been over this before. Over and over and over. But no matter how many times he’s assured by all different people -- Steve, his therapist, Sam or Carol or Tony when they return from missions -- Bucky’s still not convinced.

After all, all he did was go to bed and then everything went to hell.

If they found him once, they can find him again.

Right?

“No, Bucky,” Steve says and then grazes the scar on the side of Bucky’s neck with the tip of his finger. “See? We took the tracker out of you. And the two poachers have been arrested and the zoo shut down. They’re being held by the Nova Corps.”

The intergalactic police task force that S.H.I.E.L.D. works alongside.

“You’re…you’re sure?”

“Yes. You’re under our protection. No one would dare touch you again.”

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Bucky can only hope.

***

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

That’s got to be at least the hundredth time Steve’s asked. It’s sweet, in a way. How protective he is. But Bucky sighs as he suits up and puts his weapons together. He’s waited three years to get here. His first mission with the task force.

There’s no turning back now.

“Yes, Steve.” Bucky shoves a magazine into his gun. “I’ve passed every test.” Physical and psychological. “They’ve cleared me for active duty. I’m doing this.”

“I know you’re cleared for duty,” Steve says. “I just wanna make sure--”

“I’m sure, babe.” Bucky grabs him by the shirt and tugs him in for a kiss. “You’re not gonna talk me out of it.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “If you need this…I’m with you.”

Bucky doesn’t know if this will give him the catharsis he’s looking for or if it will even heal him a little more. All he knows for certain is that there are other places out there. Places that have people -- human and alien alike -- in captivity and in horrendous conditions. Bucky refuses to leave them there to suffer.

And with Steve and the rest of the team by his side, Bucky will do his part in making the universe safer.

One mission at a time.

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #whumptober2020 #No. 18 #panic attacks #paranoia #alien abduction #suicidal thoughts #hopeful ending #part 3 of 3

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raineydaywrites · 4 years

Text

Nesting Chapter 13

on ao3 (x)

Fic Summary: Taako and Lup are determined to kick ass at going to university, even though their childhood education was anything but traditional.

Then, Taako finds himself in a situation that threatens to undermine all their hard work.

But there's plenty of university students that have kids! Really, this is just another chance to show how much better they are at everything they do- they can definitely manage to graduate and raise a kid at the same time.

Chapter summary: The IPRE crew is starting to come together!! This is pure fluff.

Chapter: Once he'd started showing, it didn't take long for stretchy and flowy clothing choices to be his only real options. He wasn't yet stuck with only pregnancy clothes, would be able to fit into some of the stuff he'd already owned for a little while yet, but he was getting there.

By now he'd basically stolen a good percent of Lup's stretchy and flowy clothes as well, finding himself frustrated with the decrease in his wardrobe options. She'd let him for the most part, with only the occasional annoyed look instead of any confrontations about the matter, which he was very grateful for. He didn't want to feel self-conscious about the way he looked now, but every once in a while the thoughts popped up and being able to wear mostly clothing that he'd already liked instead of generic pregnancy clothes all the time was helping with that.

Random people around him were starting to notice. He could tell. Very few of them had said anything quite yet, because it was rude to assume and all that, but he noticed the way that people's eyes would catch briefly on his stomach, or they would offer him a seat or whatever without saying anything.

He appreciated the seat thing, honestly. His feet and legs had hurt a lot recently, which he hadn't expected so early in. He still had so much time to go; both he and the baby still had a lot of growing to do, so the discomfort was sure to only get worse from here. Sitting down as much as possible made that a lot better.

Being clocked as a pregnant person by strangers wasn't making him as dysphoric as he'd feared. It happened sometimes, but he could handle it for the most part. He could accept being seen as feminine at times, as long as it wasn't the only thing people saw him as ever. So he was getting by.

No, for the most part, it was just weird. This whole thing was so personal and private, and yet so many people knew about it without knowing a single other thing about him. Taako had always been a bit showy, but that didn't mean that he wasn't also a very private person. He liked being the center of attention when he was in control of it.

He wasn't in control of almost any of this.

Wasn't all bad though. Kiddo had started moving around a lot more- they weren't really kicking yet, which Lup was incredibly disappointed about, but Taako appreciated the fact that the movements weren't hurting him, so as far as he was concerned, baby could wait on that as long as they liked.

It was weird to feel someone moving inside of him like this, but it was nice too. A reminder that he hadn't messed them up. They were here, they were alive, and they were active.

The morning sickness wasn't completely gone, but it had diminished severely and now his biggest appetite problem had jumped to the opposite side of the spectrum. He was hungry all the time, and sometimes for really weird stuff, but at least that problem was one he was more comfortable handling. Now that he could cook again without fearing that he'd quickly lose anything he got down, he had this shit taken care of. And if he didn't have whatever he was craving, he could just transmute it from something else. He pitied the poor fools who couldn't, who just had to deal with it some other way.

He and Lup had turned in their applications for the planar exploration expedition a little bit ago, and now the only thing to do was wait. Taako had wondered if he should disclose his pregnancy in the application. The only thing worse than getting turned down for the expedition would be to be accepted, only to be told that they wouldn't send someone pregnant on a mission like this.

But in the end, he decided not to. There wasn't a set date for the mission yet, at least, not one that they'd revealed to the applicants or the public, so it might not even be an issue by then. It would definitely take months for them to make their selections, and probably a fair amount of training time after that, so there was no point in giving them a reason to doubt his capabilities before they even really considered him.

He really hoped that Lup would get the opportunity at least. If he couldn't go, the next best thing was for his sister to get the chance. She had insisted that she wouldn't go without him, but he refused to be the reason that she missed out on an opportunity like this.

But Lup had equally refused to leave him alone when he was heavily pregnant and soon to give birth.

They'd ended up managing to compromise that she would stay if the mission date would overlap his due date, because he didn't exactly love the idea of going through those experiences alone either. He'd really been trying to avoid thinking about the entire idea of labor, because he knew it would be one of the most painful experiences of his life, and that was both terrifying and unavoidable.

"The shit I'm gonna go through for you..." Taako mumbled to himself- mumbled to the parasite, more specifically, because he wasn't normally the type of guy to talk to himself when no one else was around. If only because he had very rarely been in a situation where he had no one else around.

He was sure he'd heard somewhere that babies could hear stuff at some point, but he had no idea when. He'd thought about looking up stuff like that, but it kept slipping his mind.

He'd only ended up looking up one of those 'how big is my baby' sites once, because it had made his hormones go absolutely wild and he'd turned into an absolute mess, crying about how tiny the little guy was. He had been very glad that Lup had not been in the room with him, because even though he knew she wasn't going to judge him, especially right now, she still would have found it very funny, and he'd have felt embarrassed about it.

He was a stone-cold bitch, not a sap who cried over cute things!

It was different though, when his hormones were acting different than usual,- when it was his cute thing.

He was allowed to think his own child was cute! He just didn't want anyone to think that he couldn't still be a badass while also loving his kid! He's a multidimensional being, he's allowed to feel both things!

He let one hand rest on his stomach over where the baby was fluttering around while he checked the mailbox.

He hadn't expected anything interesting, so he went still with surprise when he pulled out two envelopes from the Institute- one bearing his name and the other with Lup's.

He would wait for Lup to get back before he opened them. They should do this together- he didn't want to do it without her anyway, no matter what the results were. If they were good or if they were bad, he would figure it out with his sister by his side- as they always had been.

Still, despite his determination not to open the letters without Lup, he couldn't stop his mind from thinking about it.

The envelopes were rather thin. Was that a bad sign? Would they have sent more information if they'd been accepted? The two envelopes were about the same width, which could either mean that they'd both gotten the same results or that there was no extra info for people who had been accepted to the next phase.

Which basically meant, he still had absolutely no idea of what the results were, just as he always had. The only difference now was that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He tried to get some homework done, but it quickly became clear that that was a lost cause. But he couldn't seem to get invested in anything else either- nothing fun, nothing productive- he just sat at the kitchen table, one leg bouncing anxiously as he waited for his sister to get home.

Her class should be done by now, what the hell was she doing?

When the front door finally opened, he shot Lup an exasperated look, and asked exactly that.

"I went for coffee with Lucretia," Lup said, frowning in mild confusion.

"Ugh, gods, of course you pick the absolute worst time to go on your first date with her," Taako groaned. He may have been low-key encouraging them to spend time together, but he hadn't expected it to backfire on him like this.

Lup blushed at his words, and Taako rolled his eyes as she sputtered, "It's not like that! We're friends!"

So apparently, even the silver lining he'd thought he spotted for a second there was taken from him.

"Did something happen?" Lup asked, putting away her bags without even looking at him. She had gotten used to the fact that Taako could be extra irritable than usual with his mood swings, and since he didn't look hurt or sad or scared or anything, she figured it was probably no big deal.

"We got the results from the Institute!" Taako announced, and Lup spun to face him, her eyes going wide.

"What? Oh my gods, gimme!" she said, reaching grabby hands out towards her brother.

Taako handed it over to her, already ripping open his own, finally.

His eyes quickly skimmed the letter, past the formal niceties to figure out what he actually wanted to know.

You are invited to the next round of selections. An interview-

Having parsed the relevant part, he looked up to Lup with a huge grin on his face, and felt it grow bigger when he realized that she was giving him the same smile.

"You got into round two, right?" he asked anyway, needing to make sure.

"You know it!" Lup said, delighted, holding up a hand for a high five that Taako immediately returned.

"Me too, natch," Taako said, casual, as if he'd never doubted it for a second. He pulled Lup into a hug, even though that had been getting harder to do recently.

Gods he hoped they'd planned this thing for a time when he could actually go. He was already starting to show by now, and it would only get more obvious as the interview date neared, so he could hardly hide it from them.

Not that he'd ever try to keep it from them completely. He couldn't hide it forever, and it would only piss them off if they found out after they'd actually offered him a spot. And for all he knew, it could be hella risky for the baby to leave the planar system, and he really ought to ask the experts first instead of crossing his fingers and hoping for the best. He couldn't risk hurting the kid for an opportunity that he knew he was good enough to get again in the future. Going on the very first expedition would be a dream, but it would still be amazing to go on any expedition.. It would be a disappointment if he had to wait, but not one worth hurting his kid over.

Still, he'd have preferred to get in at least a good first impression before breaking that bit of news to his hopefully future employers. He knew that he could be a bit of an acquired taste, but he could do a good first impression when he tried. This wasn't going to help with that. They probably had a tone of applicants who weren't PR nightmares in the making. Taako was good, but he wasn't sure he was good enough to convince them to risk the press tearing them apart over sending a pregnant person on a potentially dangerous mission.

Nothing to do about it now though. He'd go, and he'd make his best case for himself, and they'd make a decision. All he could do was try his best to convince them that he was absolutely irreplaceable.

Lucretia had asked to come visit the weekend before their interviews were scheduled. She'd seemed really excited about something over the call, and Lup and Taako had news to share as well, so Lup told her she could come over now if she wanted to.

Taako had rolled his eyes at that, as if he wasn't also excited to boast about being invited to the next round, just as much as she was.

Even if Lup had admitted to herself that okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush of Lucretia, that didn't meant that everything she did around the other girl was a sign of that! She wanted to hang out with a friend and get praised for what a good job she and her brother had done! That's it! She just liked having friends and being complimented!

When Lucretia arrived, she was wearing a bright yellow sundress, and Lup couldn't quite take her eyes off of her. She looked really good in it.

See, now that was the kind of thing that Taako had a right to tease her about- even if she really hoped he'd ignore it instead of tormenting her with it.

Didn't seem like that was all that likely though, given the shit-eating grin he gave her at the look on her face, before greeting Lucretia with, "Looking good, Creesh!"

"Thanks!" Lucretia smiled at him, tossing her hair a bit and posing cutely, which was absolutely unfair. "It's finally getting warmer out so I couldn't resist."

"Hey, when you look that good in something, why try to resist at all, right?" Lup said. That was probably too strong a compliment. "That's my attitude, at least," she added. It was true- Lup knew she was hot and she enjoyed showing that off- and hopefully it would make the first thing she said less incriminating.

A slight blush had taken over Lucretia's face at the continuing compliments, and considering how hard it was for a blush to show on her dark skin, she must have been pretty affected by it.

Gods, Lup had to do something about that. It was weird how Lucretia could be so confident in some ways and so insecure and withdrawn in others. She was clearly proud of her work and her skills, but in social situation, she turned into a nervous mess. Lup found it equal parts endearing and exasperating.

"So what's this big news?" Taako asked, breaking the silence and prompting Lucretia to perk up in excitement, back to confident once again.

"I've ghost-written a few biographies before- I don't think I told you guys that, but anyway- and so I earned a reputation, of sorts and I was invited to apply as a chronicler for a really interesting project soon, and I just got the news that I've been officially chosen!" Lucretia announced, giddy with excitement.

"That's awesome!" Lup said, high-fiving Lucretia, and Taako echoed the sentiment and offered a thumbs up from his position on the couch. "What the project?"

"I'm not supposed to give out too many details, but it's a kind of exploratory mission for the Institute," Lucretia explained.

"Wait- you mean the one to explore other planes, yeah?" Taako asked.

"Yes- how you do you know about that?" Lucretia asked, tilting her head like a curious bird.

"We applied as arcanists for the mission," Taako said, voice trying to project 'casual and sure of himself,' but slowly getting more and more excited too. "Got past the first round of approval and we're going in to interview next week."

Lucretia's mouth popped open in surprise, before splitting into another wide grin. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nah, babe, totally serious," Lup said, bouncing on her toes eagerly. "They haven't made final selections for arcanists yet- obviously- but it would be so cool to go on the mission with you!"

Lucretia nodded eagerly. "Of course. I hope you get it!"

Taako stood up from the couch with a tiny bit of difficulty that Lup and Lucretia pointedly didn't comment on to give Lucretia another high five, and then offering another to Lup as well, just for the hell of it.

"How come you get to know already?" he asked, mock annoyed. "Must be saving the best for last."

Lucretia just giggled, too happy to take any offense to that. "I think probably there are fewer writers who even applied than there are arcanists. Like, a lot of writers are probably much happier not going out on brand new ships with experimental technology into places we've never been to before. Not that I can understand that at all. So it's easier to narrow us down than the narrow down all the people who have literally been studying to do exactly this."

"Okay, we have to get chosen now, Ko. This whole setup is just getting better and better," Lup said.

"For sure. I am not going a couple months without either of my best babysitters," Taako said.

"You think I'm gonna be super good at babysitting, Koko?" Lup raised an eyebrow. "You realize I know jackshit about babies, right?"

"My cheapest babysitters," Taako amended.

"I am not watching your kid for free, even if they are my nibling," Lucretia immediately denied, shaking her head. "Knowing you, they're going to be a handful, and I demand payment in food, at least."

"Yeah, my cheapest babysitters, like I said," Taako insisted. He paused a moment, as another thought occurred to him. "You think they'll let us bring the kiddo if we promise not to let 'em bother everybody else? Like, they'd have three separate family members to wrangle them; I'm sure we could work something out."

"No?" Lucretia said. "I mean, like, that would be ideal, I admit, but I don't think the people arranging this mission are insane. No offense."

"I mean, totally worth a shot though, right?" Taako turned to Lup. "Worst they could say is no! You miss 100% of the shots you never take!"

"That is never gonna happen, but yeah, we can ask," Lup said. "You never know. I mean, Creesh, you say they're not insane, but isn't this whole concept a tiny bit insane? If you think about it?"

Lucretia shrugged, grinning, not letting any worries that this wouldn't work out dampen her excitement. "You know, I suppose you have a point. Ideally, this mission isn't being led by people with such poor decision making skills, but if it is- hey, silver lining, we all get to go together!"

"Yeah!" Taako cheered at her willingness to go along with the goof. "That's the spirit!"

Lup laughed so hard she thought she might fall over. Gods, as much as she loved Taako, she was realizing that having more people than just him around was even better. She hadn't realized how isolated they were until recently. She didn't actually need anybody but Taako, but it was kind of nice to have them anyway. Her family was getting bigger with at least the addition of the baby, and maybe she could even count Lucretia as family too, indirectly at least.

It had always been her and Taako against everyone else, and they could handle that. But getting a few more people on their side wasn't a bad thing. Far from it. It was the best thing.

#taako adventurezone #lup adventurezone #lucretia adventurezone #taz balance #my writing

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spacebookettes · 4 years

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Fairy on the Xmas Tree

Fairy did all the work, she watched the kids for naughtiness, she made most of the wooden toys, listened to the love life problems of the elves, she did all the lists organising, made sure the elf parties had enough glow sticks, and she organised all the xmas food in the North Pole; you must know, xmas food is all year around in the North Pole: except at xmas, but that’s another story. And who do you think remembers to leave out the super strength indigestion tablets for, you know who, on his return. Fairy organises all the elf rota’s. Fairy sets the spells that scare away the infestations of Axmas Trees. And when all the big build up is over and everyone has a holiday, who do you think clears up the New Christmas Years Eve celebrations. No actually that’s , you know who’s, wife.

The End

By Peter Stringer

Girl

“Girl, how are you feeling now... that third Band Cloud-Reeta should be making you feel better by now"... The Girl’s memory was still very hazy, flashes of childhood upset, embarrassing teen problems and moments of past depression. “Girl, you know it’s always the bad things that come back first.” “Anyways I’ll be with you for most of the first few years. So we’ll work out who you are.”

The Girl had been awake in the future a week and still was utterly disorientated. She had no idea who she was, where she was, what she was or what to do about it. The EMP had wiped out the database of the Cryogenics facility; something left over from the Cryo-terrorists.

“Girl you’ll be feeling like planesoulling soon.” The Girl asked what planesoulling was... “well it’s, the emotion you feel, when your micro spaceship glances off of a solar wind and your vessel is humming and also daydreeing... it’s a lot like, Guuurl, there’s nothing quite like the fear mixed with pure awe... You’ll find out one day. When the migration happens."

The future was pretty, all the surfaces were iridescent and the windows (if you could call them that) were faintly rainbowed..

“Girl, you are far away from Earth... all the cryo sleepers were moved a long time ago... the Cryo-terrorists.” The Girl asked what Earth was. “our home world, but we fled so quickly we are having trouble locating it again.” What’s a world.

The Girl asked why everyone was a different colour than her. “You can change everything in the future. No one has human coloured skin anymore... mine is Sillleevann, very popular.” The girl knew yellow when she saw it, though this particular shade was particularly flattering in it’s greyish sparkling. The Girl believed that a sparkling greyish yellow was a memory that was wholly new: sparkling grey hues she felt were impossible some how: but she kept that to herself.

The Girl asked what is a migration. “well, when we use up all of a stars energy and it’ll be close to going nova, we have to move on to another star. Which takes time and not everyone will fit on the transports so we have to sail our own micro spaceships.” The Girl didn’t understand any of these things.

“There are a lot of people in the future”

The nanobots inside the Girl's brain had constructed some extra features, expanding the Girl’s experience of reality. “Girl, you have to have these augmentations in the future or you’ll never understand anything properly.” A glowing word appeared in the distance just in the Girl’s peripheral vision. “that’s how it starts, the augmentation. Just out of reach so as not to startle you, then one day you’ll be fully up and running and be able to understand your surroundings better... Magical!”

Who were the Cryo-terrorists she asked. But there was an explosion before Gremmille D3 could answer. Gremmille moved behind the Girl, as if to protect itself from the direction of the explosion.

The facility was hidden in a envelope of space-time, inside a kind of hyper reality. Exhaustive of energy, that goes unnoticed until a waning star, energy source, gives things away. “I'm sorry about this Girl, but we are near the start of migration (always a dangerous time), don’t worry I’ll be with you while we make our escape. Priority for you has been made in one of the transports.”

The Girl learned about the great chase. The Cryo-terrorists were in pursuit and there space-time harpoons had caused an early migration. “Girl, the Cryo-terrorists believe you are a devil, any reanimated human is a danger. But our techniques are getting better. Every new batch of cryo sleepers we regenerate are better than the last ones.” “This is your little area, you can see enough of the real world now that you’ll be able to attain anything you need. Not that humans need much in the future. I'll have to take a micro-ship and we’ll meet at the next star.”

The transport hummed the Girl awake. Her little area was large enough to stand in to sleep and sit through the awake times. The nanobots took care of her waste, recycling it. And her nourishment, synthesizing any minerals or H2O she needed. They disposed of any skin grime as well. In fact all a human had to do was sit. On a transport.

The Girl searched the databases for an answer for why, if we are being pursued, why we are trying to find the home world. Surely we are being pursued away from Earth.

“Girl, a wish... one wish from the first cryo sleeper to be revived. To feel Earth grass inbetween her toes. It’s that simple... there's little else to do out here.” The Girl heard a different humming through the communicator; the micro ship had just planesoulled. "Guuurl, this is my grass in the feet.” Gremmille D3 said.

The End

By Peter Stringer

The Young Billionaire

En garde the billionaire called to herself in her imagination. “Shame i don’t like swords, but EN GARDE.”

The Bright City was celebrating Halloween, neon 300 meter pumpkins somewhere deep in the bowels of the city. Someone entered one of the egg shaped taxi pods. It, centrally controlled, floated into the stream of other taxi pods. Flowing through The Bright City on super fast sky highways. It would be a bit of a journey to the edge of the city. A city that was home to billions of people and robots. 30 miles high at it’s borders and much more miles wider.

The taxi pod reached a shaft of sunlight horizontally peaking into the city. And then pure sunlight, clouds, and trees for a far as an augmented human eye could see. Now the egg pod could really be super fast. Clouds blasted past the taxi. A small tower quickly came up to the pod, and it slowed. Coming to rest at ground level just next to the tower. A gothic tower with 4 giant clock faces, a gothic sprawling palace. Surrounded by trees; perfectly preserved in it’s ornate medieval features... next to a brown churning river. The someone exited the pod and sat barefoot on a small patch of grass. She looked up to a gothic window. A holographic ghost from history waved back at her from the other side of the window. The someone smiled. EN GARDE...

The Young Billionaires final project a glint in her eye would take some convincing.. but to preserve a still beautiful planet, leaving it to nature was one option. An option the Billionaire liked the most. All the people’s of earth contained in a gargantuan city. 30 miles high and topped with grass, fields and fields of grass and alpine flowers, many many miles wide. A complex of multi levelled superscrapers reflective so the light reaches down into the depths endlessly cascading off of super reflective surfaces; each superscraper a field of grass on top. But such a feat of engineering would be for others lifetimes... though the massive foundations must be fought for now. Political foundations must be started in a previous lifetime. Many glints in the eyes of the people with Vision, not yet augmented.

Imagine the garden parties.

The End

By Peter Stringer

Alien Food

The UK is the home of Alien Cuisine

The fact that Great Britain is the hub of alien activity, alien Food activity, tells you all you need to know about the state of cuisine in the rest of this half of the galaxy. Galactic visitors have been visiting small towns, villages and cities for a long time. They come for the Yorkshire puddings, the packet gravy and over cooked vegetables. You see Yorkshire Pudding is renowned across half a galaxy as the Food of the Gods and it’s worth stuffing yourself into a flesh bag skin disguise to walk among the humans to eat it in peace.

Alien mothers come across time and space to learn how to make the best Yorkshire puddings from a little older lady, who lives on the moors of North Yorkshire in a little stone two up two down; a little older lady who started a small cooking class a few years back, that is now fully booked until the next 50 millenniums... scores of alien scientists are right now working on a youth elixir to make sure Granny Yorkshire keeps teaching her older ways of making oil roasted batter towers that always rise to the top of the oven and char a little where they touch. Granny Yorkshire also does a roaring trade in expertly mushy vegetables that she sells by the small, over salted, pot.

There is a factory, also in north Yorkshire, that makes the dehydrated gravy elixir (that also goes amazingly well on fries or should I say proper chips) That has recently taken an order for 12000 10kg boxes of the stuff; an order from one oddly named Zurghish Klavlong the 287th.

One intrepid alien once ventured over the sea to France to try their luck with, as the British Used to call it, Foreign Muck. They never returned on the channel tunnel train to France again, disgusted at the use of rich flavours, herbs, spices, cream and real butter!

By Peter Stringer

#xmas story #christmas #creative writing #art #short story #books #fairy #elves #new christmas years eve party #magic #silly #daft #comedy #imagine

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the-marius-de-romanus · 5 years

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Conversation with Anne Rice on Blood and Gold

Q: Blood & Gold is your eighteenth novel about the vampires. Do you find it difficult to work within the narrative framework established by earlier stories?

A: Actually, it's a challenge, a real dare. The Vampire Chronicles vary radically in form. Some are tales told to others. Some are written memoirs. Some involve vampires talking directly to us. I feel there is enough flexibility for me to do just about anything that I want. In Queen of the Damned, for example, I worked with whole chapters in the third person, claiming that the Vampire Lestat received the material telepathically from his soul mates and passed it on to us in that form. But for the most part I stick with the heat and intimacy of the first person voice because I love it, along with its obvious drawbacks, and I feel most at home with the puzzles it presents. How do you make a first person narrator handsome and lovable, for instance. I feel I meet that dare all the time.

Q: Do you view your novels as stand alone entities? Will new readers enjoy Blood & Gold even if they are not familiar with your backlist?

A: Absolutely. Each Vampire Chronicle is a stand-alone book. There is enough information in it to make any first-time reader comfortable immediately, and perhaps a little curious about the other books. Blood & Gold is no exception. If anything, Blood & Gold is a bit easier for the first-time reader than, say, The Vampire Armand because Marius is two thousand years old and he begins his memoir in the year 200 AD and follows his own lonely and stark path through the centuries. His great loves, his great losses, his great revelations are all described in rich detail, right up to the point where he becomes the mentor to the Vampire Lestat, sharing the secrets of Those Who Must Be Kept with Lestat, and eventually suffering when Lestat reveals those secrets to the world. But for the new reader it ought to flow easily. The focus is really on Marius himself and his approach to history as well as his existence as a blood drinker and a myth maker.

Q: Marius, Lestat's beloved mentor, appears in your novels The Vampire Lestat, The Vampire Armand, and The Queen of the Damned. What inspired you to write his story?

A: I was reading through The Queen of the Damned and I felt a new contact with Marius and with the anger he suffered when Akasha, the Queen of the Vampires, rose from her four thousand year slumber and more or less contemptuously deserted him. I felt it was time to go deep into Marius and tell his tale from the beginning?omehow explain the type of love he had felt for Akasha which was really warmer than worship. I knew it would be difficult to live up to the high standard I had set for Marius' character in the Chronicles and I was exhilarated by it. Marius is the noble Roman, the ethical man of reason, the diplomat, and the undying optimist. I had to get into all that. I felt ready for it. Also, I think I felt challenged by the fact that Warner's was making The Queen of the Damned into a movie. I wanted to tell Marius' story before they delivered their version of Marius to motion picture audiences. No matter how detached I try to be from motion pictures of my work, they ultimately affect me.

Q: Marius lives through many periods and in many countries. Which era of Marius' life did you find most seductive? Which did you most enjoy researching?

A: The Italian Renaissance was my favorite period of Marius' life, a time during which Marius became a person in the mortal world, a rich Venetian gentleman who paints the walls of his palazzo for his own pleasure, an enigma to those around him. I did a ton of research on the period to make everything as nearly correct as I could. I also enjoyed researching ancient Rome, the Rome of 200 to 50 AD, during which time Marius saw Christianity become the legal religion of the Empire, and also the barbarian sack of the Eternal City itself, a disaster that sent Marius into a long slumber in the shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept from which he didn't want to wake again to reality. There again, I consult volumes. I had so many books around me when I wrote that sometimes I couldn't escape from my computer. I had to climb over piles of books. I was stumbling. One day I called my research assistant, Scott, on the phone and begged him to come upstairs and help me find a book that was somewhere at my feet but which I couldn't find without an archaeological dig. Of course it was all wonderful fun. I want my vampires to move through real history, not some airy realm of half-truths and mistakes and vague generalities. I want the facts, the smells, the colors, the names, and the dates. When Marius meets Botticelli in Florence, I used Botticelli's correct street address in so as far as history records it.

Q: In Blood & Gold, Marius paints and repaints murals, and his companion Daniel, the interviewer from Interview with the Vampire, creates acres of model cities. What is the role of art in the lives of vampires?

A: Vampires are hyper-sensitive to art. They see color and form with the heightened vision of the perpetually stoned. Art can seduce them as the model cities have seduced the boy, Daniel, who doesn't know yet how to handle his obsessions. Art can also save them because it offers a continuity that life itself may not offer to a human being. As time passes, brutally deteriorating everything meaningful to a soul, art endures, and grows ever richer and more evocative with the passage of time, so that it comes to seem prophetic in retrospect, or at least timeless in the finest sense of the word. Throughout the Vampire Chronicles, art has been key. But Marius laments that though he has lived fourteen hundred years, he cannot create art to rival that of Botticelli. He falls in love with the man and must separate himself from the man lest he hurt Botticelli and thereby affect Botticelli's destiny. Maharet, the ancient one, weaving her red hair into a thread and that thread into chains, is in a sort of thrall as well, much like that of Daniel with his model cities. Weaving comforts Maharet. Marius at various stages in his long life is comforted by nothing.

Q: How does humor work in your narratives?

A: Humor is spontaneous with me. It just happens and I don't try to repress it. I have a wild sense of humor and sometimes I have to avoid the satirical side of what I am writing. I have to not sacrifice the finer feeling to the humor of the moment. But in general I let my humor come out with certain characters more than other. Lestat, for example, has a profound sense of humor and a blasphemous sense of humor. Marius is more serious, and more tragic.

Q: Marius believes that anger is weakness. Do you believe this?

A: Yes, I believe that anger is weakness. Marius is one of those characters who for the most part expresses ideas which are mine. I couldn't have an in-depth relationship with Marius if he didn't express my ideas, and I do feel that anger distorts, weakens, and warps. You have to reach beyond anger for a finer sense of a situation before you respond, or make a move. Marius has a terrible temper and so do I. Marius ruins two moments of his life with anger, and possibly even more. But I don't want to give away the plot.

Q: Memory is crucial for vampires, who are immortal. How is memory important for us mortals?

A: Memory is essential to the attaining of wisdom. There is no wisdom without memory, because there can be no perspective and no deep learning without memory. One has to profit by experience and observation in order to become wise, and memory is the keeper of all fine experiences and observations, memory is the index, the table of contents, the full library. Without memory, one runs the risk of being simplistic and flippant.

Q: Can you give us an update on the progress of film and television projects of your work?

A: For once, there is much to report. A mini-series based on The Feast of All Saints will appear on Showtime in November. After that it will appear on ABC. It will be four hours, and spread over two nights. I've seen it and I think it's lush and sensuous and very faithful to the book, and that readers will love it. It's top notch, and Showtime has spared no expense. I visited the set when they were shooting. I was rocked. John Wilder, the scriptwriter and executive producer, did a fantastic job of adapting the book to the four-hour format.

The Queen of the Damned, a feature film based on The Queen of the Damned and The Vampire Lestat, is scheduled for release by Warner Brothers on February 15, 2002. I have not seen it, but it does seem to be engendering considerable excitement. Stuart Townsend, the young Englishman who plays Lestat, is very appealing and a very fine actor. There are other impressive names in the cast.

We are presently in negotiations with regard to "Earth Angels," a new series that we are developing for television, about a group of big-city based angels who work undercover on earth to fight supernatural evil in all its forms. The series is based on an original concept created by me. I'm extremely excited about it.

We're also in negotiations with a producer and a network with regard to making a long miniseries out of The Witching Hour, Lasher, and Taltos. The present discussion involves a plan for 12 hours of TV time. I'm very excited here as well. I like everyone as well, and want for John Wilder to do the script. I feel that after what he did with The Feast of All Saints, he can do a bang-up job.

I'm also happy to report that Ramses the Damned (The Mummy) is also in development. It's owned by James Cameron, and a new screenwriter was recently hired. I've spoken with her and found her pleasant. Again, I've got high hopes.

#anne rice #vampire chronicles #justmariusstuff #marius de romanus #mariusderomanus-rp-help

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magioftheseas · 5 years

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The Hinata/Kamukura Files - Recent Patients’ Thoughts

Written for @the-hinata-project

Day 6: Heterochromia/Hope Arc Hinata/Kamukura -or- Boats/BBQ/Friendship

Rating: PG

Warnings: There’s some references to past despair but it’s mild.

Notes: I was going to do all the sdr2 kids but decided to stop with all the ones who died in the simulation. The survivors will get their day tomorrow. For now, I didn’t want this one significantly longer than the others. It’s still pretty long though. It’s really hard to write in all the different voices but I did my best and I hope this counts for something.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

It’s funny, for a boy who thought nothing of himself to mean the world to everyone else. You don’t believe me? I’m not terribly good at words, so I’ll pass on the torch in this case.

Hinata Hajime is someone who I suppose I envied. A person who accepted himself even after desiring to be someone else for so long.

“It’s because what I have is more precious than talent,” he said. When he had supposedly been chasing talent all his life.

I envied that—perhaps I also sensed it. He’s definitely a person that can be trusted in spite of his mysteries. His identity not quite being as set in stone as it should be.

I understand that, likely better than anyone. That’s why I—well.

It’s why we are friends, I suppose.

Hinata-kun’s perfect and delectable in many, many ways! Fine personality, fine face, finer a—

Cough. Cough. It seems I’ve been struck.

More seriously I suppose, Hinata-kun is a kind and adorable sort of person. He’s been through a lot but he’s still innocent. He’s someone that I’m sure Mama would adore me bringing back home.

He’s rough around the edges, but as sweet and homely as red bean paste. Truly wonderful.

Hinata’s super unreliable, but he’s motivated and considerate if nothing else. It’s honestly a little embarrassing to praise the guy, but... I do remember a bit more about him.

He was classmates with Satou. And even Kuzuryuu’s sister. I heard—that he was friends with her. With that sister. And yet, I remember Satou mentioning that he’s not the worst offhandedly when I had asked back then. I hear he blames himself for what happened. Back then.

It makes me so angry I want to cry. I’m still fighting off the urge to tell him off! But, the realization that he saw an entirely different side to that conflict—I’ve been thinking about that.

I don’t hate him. I like him a lot, actually. He’s described my photographs in a way that warmed my heart.

He may be unreliable, but I still have places I need to improve, too. So, I think the two of us are fine as long as we keep trying.

We don’t have much of a relationship but it goes without saying that I’m aware he’s a kind person. He’s close to someone I—care very much about, as well.

Truth be told, I’ve been drawn as of late to that other presence. The one called Kamukura Izuru. Someone who is very different and yet very similar to myself.

It is not very often I wonder what would have happened to myself if I was never taken in by the Kuzuryuu family. I sincerely do not believe it would have been a normal life regardless. Even now the idea of seeing myself as normal is incomprehensible.

“It is how you lived,” Kamukura would say oh so dully.

“We’re all struggling to be normal,” Hinata would hurriedly add, smile strained.

And both are true, aren’t they? I am aware—that both of them are right.

And I am grateful for many reasons that go beyond expected.

They’re both wimps and cowards, but that’s why they need to be protected. That’s what I definitely think—even though I definitely want to mess with them until they keel.

Hinata-nii in particular is still so easy to mess with. Kamukura-nii is less so, but that just makes me more determined. It’s a welcome distraction from all the bullshit we deal with beyond ourselves.

...

We really shouldn’t be alive, y’know? We’ve done way too many fucked up shit to ever make up for it, so I don’t even see the point. But, because of those two, we’re all here anyway. Because of those two, the others are trying to live. Mahiru-nee and all those idiots—even...her.

That might count for something. It might not. I don’t know. I don’t really care.

I’m too stubborn to fall behind at this point. And I might struggle, and I might have to bite the hands that get offered to me by Hinata-nii, but I—

I think we’ll manage somehow, even after we inevitably fall back down.

The person you are takes a lot to nurture and blossom, you know?! Hajime-chan has made that much clear! He’s always struggling, sometimes his arms are all wobbly like noodles! And yet, he keeps on beating that drum I got him!

We’re all struggling but making noise—and I think the louder, the prouder!

There are still days where we scream our hearts out, even to the point it blows out our throats. It’s a good thing, then, that Izuru-chan has the talents to deal with that. Him and—even Mikan-chan can help a lot. We’ve all gotten really good at supporting each other!

But, I’m also sure a day will come when we go our separate ways. It’s heartbreaking, maybe even despairing, but despite that, I won’t be alone even when on my own.

It’s fun—how we’re all so different and yet glued together by our experiences. And we have Hajime-chan to thank for that, don’t we?

It’s, um, difficult to figure out the words to say. And it’s also so...so difficult to get on your own feet. I still struggle a lot more than I probably should. It’s hard. Even now I have to remind myself where I am—who I’ve become with everything that happened.

It’s horrible, but—I still miss her. I miss Nanami-san too, of course, but—it’s horrible that I miss a terrible person, too.

“It is expected,” Kamukura-san had said. “Regardless of the circumstances, your feelings had ran deep.”

“You’re not a bad person, Tsumiki,” Hinata-san reassured me. Hinata-san reassured me, and Kamukura-san had nodded as well—even though they both hated her so much. Even though they couldn’t understand at all.

They really were so...so kind...

It’s so...difficult but...it’s worth living for.

It’s important to live and work hard every day, despite the failures along the way.

That’s always been clear but with Hinata, it’s been even clearer.

He’s the kind of guy who takes on a lot—a real athlete, even discounting Kamukura’s obvious advantages in strength. Kamukura was supposed to be unmotivated—but like hell I’d allow that!

They both need to work hard! Run until they’re high on fumes! Beginning to end!

But it’s our duty to support them. It’s my duty to guide them, since I’m supposed to be acting as a coach right?!

In the past—I may have let a lot of people down. I may have even pushed them to the brink. I won’t lie, waking up was hell, but training from hell is just par for the course, isn’t it? Gyahaha!

I’ll support them, and they’ll support us in return—we’re all a team after all.

There are few titles befitting of such a being. However, he is and always shall be the singularity. The singularity of our realm who had crawled his way out of an imprisonment of his own design. Someone who voided their existence—only to return.

Something like that could be called almost godly, but Hinata Hajime, the singularity, is as mortal as can be. He is still weak to humanity’s faults. He can be meek. He can be hesitant. He can be cowardly.

However, he still pushed through—and he is ultimately the reason that our world and our own reason was restored. To call that a feat would be inarguable.

There is—much to be grappled with. Even someone such as I can confront difficulty, but there is no greater privilege than to live and live I shall. Death is a mere afterthought—I have already died twice, fufufu.

But, I live again because of him.

For that, I...will not forget.

Ahaha, wait, it’s my turn again? Hasn’t this been dragging on for too long already? I’ve already had my moment before, too.

That doesn’t count? What are you even saying? Someone like me shouldn’t count in the first place.

I chose to die within the simulation. But, so did Kamukura-kun. Hinata-kun also chose to die when he accepted the terms for that wretched project all those years ago.

I suppose it’s only to be expected that we all remain, wretched beings that we are alongside everyone else.

...

It’s because of both of them that we turned out the way we did. I hate them, but I love them, too. I’m not like everyone else, who are all irrevocably kind and appreciative.

There’s still one other ‘victim’ that deserves to speak but she’s no longer here. Expected. But still—unfortunate, I suppose. She was quite cared about.

In her stead, I’ll make sure those two don’t falter. That their future is seized with no chance of escape. It’s not because of my own gratitude. I’m not that selfish.

Hinata-kun...and Kamukura-kun...

I do want to see how you two will shape that future.

It looks bright already.

#thehinataproject2019 #hajime hinata #hinata hajime #izuru kamukura #kamukura izuru #because it's all the kids who 'died' in sdr2 there's #way too many to tag #I was going to include the survivors too but it just got so long so we're sticking with the ones that had to be woken up #sorry #I still hope you enjoy because this was probably the hardest one to write for obvious reasons lol #Magi Fics

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fearfearer · 5 years

Text

i have caught up with the magnus archives.

when i started listening, i started a text file to note down any thoughts/confusion/analysis/jokes i had as i listened. i isolated a few bits of it into standalone text posts that i already posted, but here is the whole thing, my long-form liveblog

thoughts on the magnus archive as i listen

jonny sims gives an impassioned performance of someone's statement-- a diegetic impassioned performance, as we witness it being interrupted and resuming-- and follows it up with his own judgement of merciless doubt. classic. why the impassioned performance? he's just a nerd. i dearly hope this is the fandom consensus

every episode ends at the perfect volume to which i have adjusted it, and then i start the next episode and it blares in my ears. i think the volume of the intro must be like 1.75x the volume of the rest

*makes a serious effort to listen to and remember the name and date at the beginning of the statement recording* *forgets completely within 2 minutes*

i saw a fanart of gerard keay and learned [1] that he must be a good guy after all, since they drew him lookin cute, and [2] that his name is not, in fact, jared key. what, am i supposed to be looking at the transcripts? understanding names properly? in my defense, jonny sims clearly articulates "Jared" when he says it. maybe i'm not as good at decoding british accents as i thought. [footnote added in later: ok good i'm not the only one who hears "Jared" and thinks "Jared" instead of "Gerard"]

when gerard keay was described as having numerous eye tattoos on his joints, obviously my first thought was, "including the ankle? so he's count olaf?" because that's definitely a way count olaf would disguise his eye tattoo: by tattooing eyes everywhere else too and becoming The Eye Tattoo Guy. anyway this is part of why i was not at first inclined to think favorably of gerard keay

"The first thing about this statement that makes me dubious is that it comes from a fellow academic." if you know shit fuck you

it has come to my attention that there are ships. makes sense... after all, everyone in every fandom is horny af*. i'm not in deep enough to ship yet but naturally i'm keeping an eye on it

*horny af for depictions of intimacy, sexual or otherwise, but mostly sexual

definitely feel like i need to be writing down every name i hear because they're never not cropping back up but for now i'll just let it all wash over me

so sasha has been replaced with not-sasha, huh? pretty sure. though i'm not good at distinguishing voices. but that sounded pretty different, and my listening comprehension wrt that table isn't that bad. <<as time passes i doubt myself more and more on this point but not enough to go back and listen again

"You believe me?" "Yes, I think I do." (smashes button labeled "CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT" and a loud buzzer sounds)

IT'S MICHAEL!!! i hope michael is a long-term good guy... he's not seeming like a good guy right now... he says he's mostly neutral. vaguely recall seeing a tumblr post about michael in the recent past but that didn't give me any hints and i don't remember it well anyway. michael's voice is good though. good laugh

i'm not good at visualizing characters based on descriptions, let alone based merely on their voices, so the only image i have in my head of jonathan is a furrowed brow

i'm on episode 49 and i don't like jonathan's distrust of his colleagues... i don't understand why his immediate suspicion was that gertrude's murder was an inside job. hasn't he just learned firsthand that the institute is not impenetrable? it's not inconceivable that someone could enter and shoot her and leave. especially when it took place in underground tunnels connected to unknown locations.

there's a good Old Lady Voice Combo on episode 62

so agnes montague was heavily cursed... that's my conclusion after episode 67

elias seems to tell jonathan to "get some sleep" a lot. though it IS generally good advice

episode 70, 9 minutes, 41 seconds: jonny sims's cell phone goes off in the background

small brain: ghost ship medium brain: ghost train galaxy brain: dirt train

i wanted to see if there was fanart of michael so i looked it up... i might as well have googled "blonde slenderman"

sweeney todd mentions tally: II

for some reason, hearing michael described this time as "a tall man with curly blonde hair and an unnerving laugh" puts an image in my head without my consent, and that image is chris fleming. now, he's not quite blonde, is he? but that doesn't change my casting decision, which is now set in stone. hope he does a good british accent

"YES i know what a meme is."

why is melanie the first/only one to notice that sasha is now not-sasha? is it because she is experienced in firsthand paranormal encounters (whereas the archivists are experienced in decidedly SECONDhand paranormal encounters, save for the worm debacle)? oh, my question was answered handily in the next episode. ok.

the replacer definitely limits its glamour to everyone except one person just so that it can be amused by the distress and confusion of the one person who can see the truth. that must also be the reason it chooses a completely different appearance. it surely COULD replace a person with their exact likeness; it just uses another face for fun, and to be satisfied that it can get away with it.

this table has appeared in like 10 episodes... Guess It's Crucial

jonny sims yelling while swinging an axe. jonny sims goes through michael's door (eyes emoji)

the idea of the replacer killing jonathan and not even replacing him brings to mind "AT LEAST RIDE IT YOU ASSHOLE"

wasn't expecting to hear from leitner at this point... he's dropping tons of lore here. too much lore. so much is happening. i have to say i kinda like it better when the stakes are not quite so high as this.

so at the end of season 2, tim and martin believe that jonny sims killed this guy, who they probably don't know is leitner... and we the audience believe that elias, now almost certainly a double murderer, has very quietly stabbed leitner to death. do i the audience believe it? i'll keep an open mind for now. things are not always as they seem. except when sasha was replaced with not-sasha, which was exactly as it seemed. [footnote added in later: looks like elias being a double murderer was exactly as it seemed.]

so jonathan sims is the name of the actual guy voicing jonathan sims. it's a cecil situation. so are they someday going to go back and retcon every episode to change his name, like with palmer/baldwin? or does jonathan sims just not mind being a character as well? as long as it doesn't devolve into RPS i guess it's fine. if there's fanart of jonmartin i hope it doesn't depict them as their actors bc that's too close for comfort to RPS

there's been a truly hellish c*ndy cr*sh ad that has played like 40 times between episodes and i'm pretty well convinced to never ever play that curséd game

elias has some serious blackmail for daisy, huh? that's heavy, having police characters in fiction who do extrajudicial killings. life imitates art imitates life

"i'm not on drugs or anything. ...what? i could be on drugs!"

he said "ample opportunity" but like "amplopportunity" with emphasis on the "plop"

it was obviously elias who delivered the statement to jonathan in hiding, because he knew he would record it despite not being at work... bc he's a nerd

so if gerard keay has eye tattoos, does that mean he also serves the uhh the observing or whatever? [verdict arrived at later: no he just has those because he's cool. or because his mom tattooed him. ok almost certainly the latter.]

"what do i feed it?" obviously you feed it filled up cassette tapes, jon... nothing has ever been more obvious

it's okay that jon very stupidly burned his hand to a crisp. you don't need even one hand to turn on a cassette recorder. you can do that with your nose

so if these people who are wax figures serve the desolation, and not-sasha was spending time at the wax museum, does that mean there is a connection between the replacer and desolation? i think that would make sense, since both seem to enjoy making people feel bad feelings. also i'm starting to think that agnes was not actually cursed, but that would mean she burned that guy on purpose after being nice to him... was she just really selfish in that way? using him to experience Dating and mutilating him when he crossed the line, so she punished him as a cruel goodbye? or just building up his hopes so they will be even more fun to burn down when the time comes?

"perhaps doing a bit of mindless filing will help distract you." honestly that is something i would like to do in real life... i do enjoy a good mindless task. though doing mostly mindless tasks 40 hours a week is not a fun time for me lately. but it would be better if i didn't have to listen to bad radio at the same time

what?! the friendly midnight acrobat described in episode 90 sounds totally non-threatening and i hope there's fanart of it. was that gym just jared the bone turner helping people live their twisted athletic fetishes?! [footnote added in later: YES! god i hope people draw these turn-boned creatures optimized for their gymnastic of choice. show me a person who remade their body specifically for the balance beam]

so the power endowed in the archivist by the viewening is that when you sit them down across from someone they want to interview, that someone will invariably spill SOME beans and think it was their idea. maybe? [footnote added in later: yes.]

ok so Michael "The Distortion" Michael, of fractals and golden ringlets, has specifically tormented this other michael, lichtenberg michael?

jon is clearly moved to ask questions by an external force because he's a sensible guy who would not try to ask questions when daisy is holding a gun on him

i think basira has precisely the same accent as estelle... or maybe just a similarly staccato way of speaking (or of line-reading)

[episode 93] elias: (holding jon's face between two pieces of bread) what are you? jon: (sigh) the archivist...

well, they did something i didn't expect them to do with this show: create a compelling in-universe reason for jon to read statements aloud. because obviously until now there was none.

jon did the cockney accents. (insert emoji for indescribable feeling)

here's the purpose of the pit: if we all climb in the muddy pit together at night, the earthquake will only jiggle us gently and no one will be inside collapsing buildings to be crushed. it's only logical

ok i was gonna say this before but why is jon still at georgie's house??? he's not on the run for murder anymore, right? he has an apartment with all his stuff in it, right? [footnote added in later: i still don't understand why it was like this.]

i will confess that usually once the credits start to roll i zip to the next episode, but this time i zoned out a bit and it's really funny that jonny sims reads out "Rate and Review Us Online" in his archivist voice

a third michael. this one is probably already dead though. unless distortion michael takes over this guy's body or something. oh, jon came in at the end of the episode to say precisely this.

was episode 100 mostly improvised? if so, that would be appropriate. but i wouldn't put it past them to write every stuttering bit of those four statements

MARTIN...................................................................................................................................................... (typed this as martin gave some of his own money to the lady who expected payment for a statement)

i'm skipping 100.1 through 100.5 for now... just for now.

ok so michael is michael but not lightning mike michael, and two of these michaels are dead, but one is something that has never been alive nor dead. got it

everyone's morality is much more gray than i at first anticipated. the only people who seem to be solidly and earnestly on the side of good, as much as possible, are jonathan and martin and basira and georgie and maybe tim?

so michael just died and was overtaken by pseudo-helen? neo-helen? ok. that's kinda too bad, as i enjoyed michael's terrible laugh and unpredictability. but the feeling of michael being revealed as having been michael shelley feels somewhat similarly disappointing (but a bit less staggeringly groan-inducing) to when the mysterious koro-sensei in assassination classroom was revealed to have been a twink in his past. because of course he was. (that's when i stopped reading that manga. too precipitously dumb to sustain my suspension of disbelief.) it's like, ok, you had an interestingly mysterious character going on, but having solved the mystery, what interestingness is left? not much. fortunately this was resolved by promptly ending the existence of this michael and instead introducing new and improved helen

ooh martin has the asky ability too huh? nice [footnote added in later: he only used it this one time, and i'm wondering if they did that and then forgot and decided that jon is actually the only one with asky ability.] [[another footnote added in much later: How did i manage to mistake jon’s voice for martin’s voice? How?]]

the way martin said "kumo ga tabeteiru" in episode 110... alexander j newall does not watch anime

"I'm a book." ~Gerard Keay, 2017

it was a few episodes ago now but i noticed that when jon clearly articulated "Jared" referring to gerard, elias was like "Jared? you mean Gerard Keay?" (pronouncing it like "Gerard.") there is definitely a disagreement between these two (actors) about how to pronounce that name

the eye, the spiral, the end, the stranger, the lonely, the desolation, the slaughter, the vast, the buried, the dark, the corruption, the web, the flesh, the hunt.

Q: why would anyone want one of these rituals to succeed? A: it's their fetish. it's their sexual fetish

ok time to make up names for each possible apocalypse. these are the real and true names according to me, who knows such things: the eye - the viewening the spiral - down the drain the end - the really end end the stranger - oh wait we know this one. it's the unknowing. the lonely - the alonening the desolation - Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Lightless Flame the slaughter - world war all the vast - the expansion the buried - the grand lahar (or the Smothering) the dark - the extinguishment the corruption - the Great Rot the web - the spidening the flesh - the smorgasbord (or the Eatening) the hunt - come and get it

gerry said there was no dark god of indigestion, but i can tell you from personal experience that there is. though it's true that there is also fear involved, so maybe no separate pantheon is necessary

i sense that there is a battle between people who say it like "gotta get myself oriented" and "i feel disoriented" (as feels correct/natural to me) and people who say "gotta get myself orienTATed" and "i feel disorienTATed," and this podcast falls SQUARELY on the latter team. they've said it like 20 times

idk why he has to be such a dick to helen. jeez

the guy who coded his mind into a computer, which of the 14 was that? the corruption? the stranger? gotta be the corruption, but that doesn't fit perfectly with its rot/bugs aesthetic...

speed -> speeding -> sped. heed -> heeding -> hed. thus i decree

in my dream i listened to a whole episode of this show, narrated by gertrude, and i was like "whoa this is cool" and i went to write it down but i was still in the dream and writing doesn't work in dreams :( also any successful writing in dreams doesn't transfer to real life paper :( the only snippet i remember: “...in his white mouth, which had known only bread...”

"I, uh..." Jonathan Sims, a thousand times, 20XX

martin's job is PLAINLY to distract elias and elias barges in like "martin. i see you're trying to distract me." and martin's like "maybe i am!"

o, jonny took a breath. that's good

he wasn't hooked up to an EKG or anything? you spend long enough with no heartbeat that they're just like "i guess we can turn this off"

this episode about philosophical zombies sounds a lot like that NPC meme from a year or two ago... and it makes me kind of uncomfortable, the way this person inspects others to determine whether they are True Minds or Impostors based on their emotional expressions, their eyes... because i don't always do the correct or appropriate expressions, and would someone judge me as being a non-person who is trying and failing to imitate human emotions?

i generally don't enjoy ships that have more-or-less explicit canon support, but i can't say jon/martin isn't good

melanie blaming jon isn't right... no one had a better plan to stop the unknowing, did they? (they didn't!) didn't all of them agree on the plan and understand that they might die? (they did!) she's just imposing survivor's guilt upon him because he survived for supernatural reasons. but it's not like he eagerly embraced his new supernaturalness, or even asked for it outright! i think she's being unreasonable. i didn't like her insistence on trying to kill elias either, even though elias is a huge dick. what's with her?

wait, peter lukas is the lonely? (meme where calculations and equations whiz past me)

jonathan baa'd

oh, see. the bullet is making melanie act without reason. i get it now. can't say i think they had the best approach to getting the bullet out, but all's well that ends well (???)

martin is being prohibited from talking to jon >:I martin is on a first-name basis with peter lukas >:I...

martin grumbles, "i don't like being manipulated..." while obviously and continuously allowing himself to be manipulated

jon is afraid of and uncomfortable with what he's becoming, at least to a degree, right? but he seems to be going about his duties (i.e. feeding the eye) with vigor and without reluctance. is he really that motivated by his own desire to know and understand? who is he doing this for? is the eye's influence on him so strong that "doing what the eye wants" seems to manifest as what HE wants to do?

"He'd place it over the one he wore already, and he would larf and larf and larf" (from breacon’s statement... just heard it like this for some reason)

deep water could be the domain of both the buried and the vast, because you could lose yourself in the vast ocean, but experience the physical effects of being buried under thousands of feet of water...

so tom han was an avatar of the flesh but he ultimately died after being tortured by the spiral... right?

"we're not people, though, are we? not anymore." close enough, i'd say.

jonathan has deployed THREE "I, uh..."s in episode 131 alone and i want to smack him in real life. FOUR NOW. JON. JONATHAN SIMS THE REAL ACTOR. LISTEN... quit falling back on your "I, uh..."s. and if they're written into the script i'll punch whoever did that too. total of five in a single episode. never utter "I, uh..." again

i hope whoever's throat is okay after doing bone turner voice for a whole statement.

jonny sure needs saving quite often, doesn't he.

peter lukas being a slightly chipper advocate for becoming a follower of the lonely is very strange

neil lagorio and his whole cinematographic history is made up but they namedropped kevin costner, who is real

VERY, VERY GOOD laugh at 23:44 of episode 136

melanie getting her session recorded... i was doing audio transcription for a while and you'd definitely come across bits of therapy-type sessions that very much seemed like they should have been confidential.

i wonder if the eye ultimately turned its back on gertrude and allowed her to be killed. if jon could survive a collapsing building, could gertrude not have survived a couple of bullets? wouldn't the difference be the protection of the eye? [footnote added in later: of course now i see who turned their back on whom.]

i'm somewhat heartened to learn that agnes montague was, in fact, a heavily cursed individual, though she seemed to have embraced it to a degree... and she wasn't made of wax.

i like that jon now includes helen in his office politics briefing

basira's like "Edmund Halley" and jon's like "Halley's comet?" (like “Hale-ey”) and two minutes later jon's like "Edmund Hally" (not "Hale-y")

"What's this?" "OH... That's, uh... that's... my rib..." "Right." (tiny clunk of rib being set down)

so giving a statement puts a curse on you... or is it "having a statement extracted / being compelled" that puts a curse on you? and the resulting curse, the fear it reawakens, is that good for the eye, or is that good for the powers that initially caused the fear?

well, i heard a homestuck reference in one of the patreon names at the beginning of an episode, and who is surprised? of course, i'm not one to talk

episode 144- the english think their summer is bad... as a professional "hot weather is bad" person, i feel doubtful, because if the sky is grey, it is not as hot as it Could Be, and therefore one should quit one's bitching

first statement about the extinction... interesting. but hearing martin be a jerk to daisy makes me sad :(

the powers never tell avatars exactly what they need to be doing, but that's just concerning the means. the ends are always clear: the power gets fed. and all of the powers feed on fear. also jonny is horny for statements. i hope, but also doubt, that his harmful behavior is at least partially the spider's doing. oh, i see now that it's not. yeah.

jon wants to eat fresh and delicious statements produced just for him, instead of reconstituting the dusty old statements already in the archive

episode 148 - samson stiller gets a crush. but in all seriousness, is he becoming an avatar of the eye but like, not institute-related? is that a thing? i guess that would make sense, but still seems weird

episode 149 - considering ring -> rang -> rung, we seem to have stumbled upon spin -> span -> spun, and the compasses gently span around (9:40)

does martin have loneliness powers now? it's sad that he is getting lonely... as a lonely person, i know.

the lady on TV in episode 150 was just speaking simlish.

i really want jon to overcome his urge to forcefully take statements because i want to be able to root for him still

british podcasts really have a leg up over american podcasts, at least among american audiences, purely based on their interesting and varied accents

i can't say the gravedigger's envy doesn't make me myself feel like going to sleep in the cold dirt forever. but bad depression lately is also a factor, so

jonathan having to settle for reading already archived statements instead of harvesting fresh ones is exactly like a vampire (not the kind detailed in this series) who has to choose between hunting people to suck their blood or drinking bags of donated blood from a (near-endless) stockpile. there's an ethical choice with a clear right answer, but the urge is also understandable

jon following up gertrude's tape with just "fuck" was really good. now he's like "ok martin. let's run away together"

spent all day at work thinking about how i can't fuckin believe the first thing jon did when he heard how to escape the institute was to go tell martin like "there will be a great cost, but... we can elope now"

also if tim was still around jon would tell him the way out and he would do it right then and there, i'm 100% sure. like before jon was finished explaining tim would be like "the eyes? (grabs scissors) got it. (does the deed)"

earlier today i was just thinking that we would almost certainly hear gertrude's death on tape, especially given that we now understand tape recorders are wont to turn on autonomously whenever something important is happening. anyway then i came home and heard gertrude's death on tape

peter, as an avatar of the lonely, is easy to play like a cheap whistle because as someone who clearly hates spending time around other people, he is not keen to the symptoms of being played.

elias is like "you'll have to go into the lonely to get him" and jon's probably thinking "but then at least we'll be in the lonely... ~*~*~together~*~*~"

i think martin's whole thing for most of the series has been that he sounds a little doofy, for lack of a better word, and people constantly underestimate his intelligence. and now he has played peter lukas like a cheap whistle and forced me to realize that by taking for granted that he was being successfully manipulated by peter lukas, i too was underestimating martin... and his pure love for jon <:3c no but seriously i even remember explicitly making a mental note to remember that martin is smartin but it fell by the wayside as my emotions (of sadness that jon and martin seemed to be growing further apart) took precedent

i work a non-verbal job just doing mundane tasks and that gives me all the time in the world to think about things like "if they were to have jon and martin reunite in a tearful embrace, how would you convey the physical contact in an audio format? like, whap? soft thud?"

jon enters the lonely and voiceover peter comes in to try and factcheck the ship

i guess it makes sense that peter would try to do the ritual for the lonely all by himself

did he kill peter by asking him to death? or did peter just self-destruct rather than be forced to answer?

the way jon snapped martin out of the loneliness just by making him look at his face... that's powerful. as a lonely person, i know that the most cry-making thing you can realize when you feel alone is that another person is, in fact, there with you

martin went for a walk and now it's thunderstorming. i wonder if he came back as soon as it started raining and now he's standing nearby invisibly as jon reads the intimidating magnus statement. ...I GUESS NOT

i plan to read through the transcripts of all the episodes (as it’s faster than re-listening, though i might selectively re-listen) so that i may better understand some things and answer some questions in this post that i didn’t ultimately resolve. i can’t say i was paying 101% attention all the way through. also april is very far away

#the magnus archives

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 5 years

Text

Chapter 39: Many Matters Up For Consideration

Content warning for this chapter: some unintentional misgendering of a gender-fluid character occurs. Walt knows Bernie's preference is "if it's unclear which pronoun set I'm currently using, use 'they/them'," but Walt is also out of practice checking if there is a pronoun set Bernie is currently using other than 'they/them', and so refers to Bernie as 'they/them' while the audience knows Bernie is using 'she/her'.

Becoming the Mask

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"So, what did Blinky say when he dragged you off earlier?" Toby asked Jim.

The Changeling rolled over in his sleeping bag and propped himself up on one arm, facing the bed.

"He apologized for some stuff he said when he found out what I am, and he told me where troll babies come from. Whelps incubate in Heartstone chunks called 'birthstones' – which I think explains the thing about Gunmar's Birthstone being 'a rotten Heartstone'. It makes a lot more sense now. Like calling someone 'a bad seed' or 'a bad egg'. Birthstones are kind of like fish eggs, except both parents fertilize it externally. And it takes thirty years for one to hatch."

"Wow."

"I know, right? I wonder if some Changelings might've been taken as birthstones instead of whelps. I mean, it's got to be easier to carry a rock than a squirmy baby. I know I'd already hatched by the time I was changed, because I kind of remember it, but that's probably just so we actually know stuff by the time the age pause switches over to our Familiar."

"You remember getting turned into a Changeling?"

"Kind of," said Jim again. "It hurt a lot, especially my hands because I grew an extra finger on each one. And there were other Changelings there, too, and … our Creator."

He said the last part softly. Toby took that to mean Jim didn't want to talk about it. Them. Whatever.

"… Do you remember anything from … before? Like, your first family?"

"No, that's mostly blocked out. I half-remember being warm? And some blurry noises and smells? But I don't know if any of those are real memories or just something I invented. Like, I figure one of my parents must have been blue, but I don't remember that, I just think it because I am. And I've always been really drawn to soft things, so I think one of them might've had fur and I subconsciously remember that? But I don't actually know."

Toby didn't mean to snort, really, but –

"One blue and one with fur? So, Blinky and AAARRRGGHH?"

There was a moment of silence before Jim huffed amusedly. "Well, Blinky did just give me The Talk. But if I were going to claim any troll as my dad, I'd probably say Stricklander."

"Wait, if you guys are both Changelings, doesn't that make you the same age?"

"No, no, he's, like, centuries older than me. Enrique's around my age, though."

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Bernie increased magnification and switched forms. It was a habit of hers. Trolls and humans had evolved in different lighting conditions, so troll eyes could catch a detail that human eyes could not, and vice versa.

Bular's death was tragic, of course, a deep setback to the Order's plans and an agonizing blow to the Underlord (or would be, once someone was brave enough to bear the bad news), but his remains offered a wealth of knowledge. Bernie intended to wring every scrap of information possible from the stones.

The Janus Order had not had troll remains available for study since before most of Bernie's lab equipment had been invented. Changelings who died in troll form tended to explode. Bernie had samples of the dust and was eager to see how Bular's chemical composition compared. She felt like a human paleontologist studying a mostly intact dinosaur fossil after decades working with tiny bone fragments.

First she was running a series of passive tests on the stones. More intrusive testing could wait until she and Otto and Stephan had rebuilt Bular enough that she could take samples from pre-determined areas. There could be any number of factors differentiating between what had been his horn or his stomach or his tail, and the chemical analysis would run more smoothly if she knew what she was testing.

The stones were not responsive to blacklight and showed no response to infrared other than warming up. Bernie hadn't quite dared expose Bular's remains to ultraviolet light yet – it shouldn't do anything, with the tissue already dead, but she didn't want to risk degrading the samples so early on when there was such a finite quantity. She was using infrared and ultraviolet cameras as well as a standard one to record everything.

"So far," said Bernie aloud to the video cameras, "Bular seems to be composed of a sedimentary version of the same mineral that comprises Changeling dust. That suggests we aren't as different from unaltered trolls as previously believed. Possibly the changes are more noticeable in live tissue."

She wished he had been willing to provide tissue samples while still alive. The Son of Gunmar had made it clear in life he was not interested in indulging Changeling curiosity. Decades ago, Bernie developed a formula that should work as a sunblock for trolls, but the Gumm-Gumm prince had taken offence at the request that he, as the one sun-sensitive troll available, consider testing it, and the Changeling scientist had gotten broken ribs and a broken wrist for the 'insult'. After that, Bernie stopped asking for the troll's aid in experiments.

Between comparing Bular's remains to Changeling dust and cross-referencing that with some of the old notes recovered from the Pale Lady's workshops, Bernie might be able to reverse-engineer how Changelings were made. Their numbers were limited with their Lady currently inaccessible, but if new technology could substitute for raw magical power, then their numbers could grow once more.

Bernie would meditate at the gramophone to seek Her Ladyship's approval before actually trying to recraft the formula, of course. Bernie Sturges was a lot of things, but not a blasphemer.

(Bernie thought of herself as 'Bernie' all the time, regardless of how her gender fluctuated, but classically-gendered names like 'Bernard' and 'Bernadette' were a useful verbal shorthand, to sidestep having 'the pronoun conversation' with every casual acquaintance and speed up telling those 'in the know' which pronouns to use at the moment.)

She switched back to human form to write a few more notes. She liked having a written record as well as audio-visual.

"The fact these remains are Bular's, specifically, raises another possible field of comparison," Bernie mused. "A comparison to the Eye of Gunmar may yield vital data, not only on how our eyes work, but on how genetic ties manifest in living stone. It is hypothetically possible some Changelings are related and don't know it."

Maybe siblings, maybe cousins, maybe an aunt or uncle and their niece or nephew.

"Will investigate the vault and determine which security measures I need to override to access the sample."

Bernie had been living on the base since Stricklander had sent the Order into deep cover. She was between human identities at the moment, so her disappearance would draw less notice in the world above than trying to slap a new cover together in a rush. Fortunately, she maintained a small apartment just off the lab, in case of projects which couldn't be left unsupervised.

The base had three underground stories. Bernie's lab was on the middle one, but off to the side so that any explosions could be contained by the emergency blast doors and nothing was directly above or below.

The vault was down a level and on the opposite side of the base. It had been built to store the gramophone, before it was determined that the magical wards interfered with the signal, pieces of Killahead Bridge, before construction had begun, and two other artifacts which were considered too vital to move about without direct instructions from the Order's head or the Pale Lady herself.

Bernie swapped her safety glasses for a mask and brought a few of her smaller scanners along. If she could get into the vault, she could run some tests on Gunmar's Eye before reporting the security system's weaknesses.

To her surprise and concern, the Order's head was already standing at the vault's door.

"Stricklander," she greeted. Bernie never bothered with introducing herself to him, because –

"Dr Sturges."

– Stricklander always called her that. She had a few doctorates by now, from decades infiltrating human universities to keep up with their scientific progress. 'Bernadette Sturges' was not so accredited as 'Bernard Sturges' yet, but the degrees under Bernadette's name were more recent.

"I'd like to access the Eye of Gunmar," she said, because it wasn't like Bernie had any other excuse for being on this level and Stricklander usually supported her studies.

"… Why?"

"I've been examining Bular's remains," which he'd know if he'd read the reports she'd been leaving on his desk, but he might not have been to his on-base office recently, "and I wanted to do a comparative study. Since we know they're related."

Stricklander frowned.

"You have fortunate timing, Dr Sturges," he said after a moment. "The Eye of Gunmar is about to be moved to a classified location." More classified than a secret underground bunker? Well, if Stricklander was the only one to know where the new location was, that would be more secure than a vault most Changelings knew about. "I see no problem with you studying it under supervision for the next few hours."

Opening the vault was a complicated affair. There was a Changeling lock, of course, to keep out any other trolls or humans who somehow got into the base, and then a combination lock, and then some other form of combination lock involving floating, glowing runes that Stricklander rearranged into what was probably a password – Bernie could read trollish but it still looked like gibberish – and then some kind of scanner for which Stricklander changed to his troll form.

Inside was dark and surprisingly spacious. Perhaps not surprising, considering it had held about half of the Bridge at one time. There was a shelf along the back wall, which held two boxes, kept a respectful distance apart from one another. Each box sent a faint light up the wall and to the ceiling.

Bernie was mildly surprised that both boxes were open. One would think they'd be kept sealed so that, on the off-chance a thief made it this far, they might still grab the wrong artifact.

One, the Eye of Gunmar, glowed blue. The other, the Inferna Copula, glowed golden.

"I should study the Inferna Copula as well," said Bernie. "Not now, but at some point. Legend says it's a metamorphosed piece of Angor Rot's own flesh, which he sacrificed as an offering to our Lady when he swore himself to her service."

Stricklander took the box with the eye. Bernie stayed near the vault door, ready to bolt for it if her presence set off another security system.

"He could avenge Bular," Bernie realized. "He's slain Trollhunters before, in our Lady's name."

Stricklander let out a sharp but quiet gasp. He handed Bernie the eye box and took the ring box.

"I think I had best keep this close for now."

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Walter was nearly positive that Dr Sturges was working with Otto. Sturges hadn't been told the full story of Bular's demise, or they wouldn't be so open with Walt about their current project.

As Sturges examined Gunmar's Eye, talking to the various recording devices set up in the lab, Walt examined Sturges' notes. Sturges had copies of papers recovered from several of the Pale Lady's workshops, which the Order's linguistics and cryptography team had done their best to decipher and translate. Sturges was no linguist, and only a hobbyist cryptographer, but insisted on having copies of the original pages as well as translations.

The papers Walt was studying had to do with Angor Rot.

Angor had turned to the Pale Lady midway through Gunmar's first war for the surface. A few history records that Jim had recovered from Blinkous' library claimed Angor had been a hero, once, defending trollkind from the Gumm-Gumms. Perhaps that was what had driven Angor to Morgana, seeking the same power that her rival Merlin had bestowed on the Trollhunters?

If so, it seemed she had gifted him with even greater power, because at least four Trollhunters were confirmed to have died at Angor's hands, and half a dozen more were rumoured.

Angor was controlled by the Inferna Copula, the ring which contained his soul. Wielding it was hazardous; every past bearer had died gruesomely, either as or shortly after it was taken from them. The assassin himself had vanished centuries ago, supposedly having been imprisoned by Merlin, but the Janus Order had acquired his ring.

Walt could not let Otto get it. If there was a chance Angor Rot was still alive, Otto could set him against Jim, and Walter himself.

But, looking at Morgana's notes about her Champion, and the weak and sentimental heart which brought him to her … If Angor were alive, and Walt were to get to him first …

It would be a foolish quest; more foolish than the quest for the Triumbric Stones, considering that those, at least, were known to still exist.

Walt couldn't just pack up and leave Arcadia. It wouldn't look entirely suspicious to his fellow Changelings, for him to up and leave the town guarded by a Trollhunter strong enough to slay Bular, but it could incite panic and mass exodus.

And who could he leave in charge in his stead, who wouldn't be killed or overthrown but also wouldn't overthrow him? Nomura, maybe. 'A last chance to redeem yourself after the Bridge was stolen from your post.' But could he trust her that much? Could he afford to put her in the position of becoming the scapegoat if anything went wrong with the Order in his absence?

He couldn't send someone else to retrieve Angor Rot. That only raised the same questions, of who wouldn't either be killed or keep the assassin in their own service.

And could Walt really afford to take away the token protection his presence gave Jim against Otto, even for a short while in exchange for a chance to acquire a more powerful ally?

He put down the papers and examined the ring. Gold, chunky but spiky; its bulk reminded him of some Borgia rings he'd seen or worn in the past, with their hidden compartments for poison. He couldn't find any mechanisms. More out of curiosity than anything, Walt tried it on.

Vines and moss and the crushing weight of stone. Sunlight filtered through gaps in an old roof, not quite able to reach him and burn him. Arms and legs spread uncomfortably and held firm, even after centuries. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty.

Walt pulled the ring off quickly. He didn't have a perfect internal compass, but the connection between the ring and the troll had created one, if only for a moment.

Angor Rot was alive, and Walter Strickler knew exactly where to find him.

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In the episode It's About Time, Jim gets a vision of where Angor is when he puts on the Inferna Copula. This 'inner compass' idea explains how he found him so quickly when Arcadia has a lot of sewer tunnels and there was no reason Jim should recognize that particular spot, and in this fic I'm using it to explain how Strickler finds Angor without Otto also along on the journey.

I'm ignoring the spinoff novel which claimed Angor made his deal with Morgana after the Battle of Killahead, because I don't think that makes nearly as much sense as it being a pre-Killahead thing. Angor specifically mentions that Gunmar's war ravaged his village. It could be interpreted as Angor wanting to protect his vulnerable displaced/rebuilding people after the war is over, but I think his phrasing makes the most sense if Gunmar is still free to threaten them further.

I am keeping, at least as a rumour, the spinoff novel’s claim that Merlin was the one to chain Angor up and trap him under a pile of rubble in an isolated building.

#Becoming The Mask chapters #Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #fanfiction #Changeling Jim #Tobias Domzalski #Original Character #Changelings #Walter Strickler #also #Angor Rot #There are many names for Pale Lady Morgana Argante Baba Yaga Mistress Of Shadows The Eldritch Queen #TOA novels and comics #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

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