#actually I would kill for an older-geared story where they let Ash age and take on high stakes battling

[thejourneystartstoday]

If I say this enough it will speak it into existence: being a Pokémon master does not have to mean being the strongest battler. I’m sure being a strong battler comes with the territory but there are still regions Ash hasn’t been to and Pokémon he hasn’t met. He’s going to keep traveling until he’s seen them all.

[mswyrr]

Jo Martinez thoughts

I really like her. I thought the writing was stronger on the front half of the season and took some missteps on the second half, though.

I really liked how it started out - she’s a widow in her 30s, so she’s alienated from other people in her age cohort who have partners and kids. Hanson, for example, tries to reach out to her, but there’s a barrier there. She can’t share the parent stories, or the married people jokes. And if she goes by his house for dinner his family would be wonderful to her, but it would be, for her, like watching all this happiness that was taken from her. In addition to being just sort of awkward... what do we talk about? What do we have in common?

Are they going to pity me and try to hide it or try to push me to get back to living sooner than I can so I’ll have to feel guilty about that?

In the middle of that experience, the two people she bonds with the closest are outside her age group. First there’s Henry, who’s in a similar spot as her: seemingly 30something, should be living the prime of his life, but he’s basically a widower and the grief is still fresh for him because of how time passes for him and his lingering questions. He instantly understands where she’s coming from. He offers quiet understanding and acceptance that she feels. He tells her the things he himself has struggled with doing, like finding a way to really live again after a bereavement. But he doesn’t push and being around him doesn’t feel raw with guilt or pity or awkwardness like it does with other people who seem to be her same age.

I LOVED all of that. It recognized that if certain tragedies or other things befall you in life, you can end up as alienated from your “proper” age cohort as Henry is from people who are the age he seems to be. That was some thoughtful writing IMO. I’ve definitely felt that myself. For other reasons than Jo’s but it was still satisfying to see that acknowledged - and so lovely how it created a bond between these two people who were otherwise so different.

Jo then bonds with her lieutenant, Joanna Reece, over the guy she had to kill and the burdens of their chosen profession. Reece is older and has a perspective that, again, is accepting. She knows when to understand and when to push a bit. They hang out together at the shooting range and it feels like real companionship. I really liked that. I wish they had continued to develop that: what if throwing herself into work and wanting to rise (to take an LT test herself or something? Forgive me, I don’t know how the NYPD works) was part of how Jo coped?

Instead, well, first the plotlines mesh up, with Henry having to kill for the first time in 200 years - that switching of roles, where suddenly she’s the “expert” in this grief and able to lend him acceptance and advice was really great. Dovetailed well, allowed Jo to have her own story but also... well, you know, Jo is to Henry what Ash is to Michael over on DSC: well written love interest (though Jo IMO started out as also a second lead and that felt like it waned a bit? IDK.) What’s happening to them has to relate to what’s happening to the lead because that’s how narrative economy works

I thought it was a rather elegant way of making it work though. So it was all good up to that point! And they could have gone some other directions with the echoes/resonances, maybe dealt with Jo’s family more? Since Henry’s story is all about family in this lovely way. IDK.

But then they made what I felt was their one major misstep, which was starting the romance plot full gear for her *before* the “secret reveal” plot. Henry’s prior major loves, Nora and Abigail, both found out after they were in love with him and responded according to their own personalities (Nora was a very normal person who couldn’t handle it, Abigail had the inner grit to embrace it, though she did struggle too as she got older especially).

Okay, so they’ve done that pattern twice - woman falls in love, finds out. Why not let Jo find out as a close friend first? Keep the romance on a slooooow boil. Let her go through all the wonderful angst and complexities of being in on the secret as a dear, close friend. Becoming part of the kin group: I especially think her and Abe would have a lot of bonding to do. Abe has been quite lonely in his singular role of knowing and looking out for his dad. That could have been lovely! And then she could, over the next few seasons, actually be unique: the first person to fall in love with this guy knowing him as he truly is, rather than having to adjust after.

I particularly would have LOVED if she’d actually got to spend some time knowing that he was like her, a widower who feels displaced in part because of that loss. Instead it’s all just this subtext that she feels the depth of and we get but she is not allowed to understand.

It would also mean that when Henry finally discovers that Abigail is dead for certain he would be able to turn to Jo about that and we could get that from another angle, their bonding as a widower and widow. And, for his part, I think Henry needed to be shoved into the deep end IMO re: having his secret revealed and letting go of control on his end and then choosing to stay and deal with that with Jo.

Instead, in keeping the secret from her so long and turning up the flame on the romance from her pov - well, it keeps her sidelined from what is the real emotional/thematic/plot core of the show. So she has to be in the unfortunate role of being lied to and deceived at every turn, of playing a barrier to plot progression, someone to be gotten around. And, since Henry isn’t letting go of control, her falling while he’s still lying to her feels like the power dynamic emotionally which was so keenly balanced and lovely goes a bit wobbly.

I was delighted that the finale ended with her pushing for real answers! And I felt Abe’s “tell her!” in my bones. But even if that had been the first plot of S2, I do still think the choice to have the romance plot heat up faster than the secret reveal would have been a less than optimal option. For my tastes.

No shade on the series: it wasn’t a fatal mistake or terribly awful or anything. But I did feel like they kept all the plates spinning better in the first half of the season. Still, I really enjoyed the special stuff they did with her story (an actual 30something “displaced” from time/her age cohort vs. our lead who just looks like it) and I liked the romance in theory and in execution most of the time, just not as much in the final arc of S1.

[pillowblaster]

Greetings mortal! Are you ready to buy?

Seeing there's been interest in some lore behind the Guncaster,  and I released the update lately, I might as well bother to exercise my writing skills again (if there are any) and explain some fun tidbits behind the new shopkeeper and perhaps his background, being older than GC itself, cause why not~

Art by Cage - DOCTOR, MY EYES APPEAR TO BE SWOLLEN!... WHAT?! TOO MUCH PORN? IMPOSSIBLE!

Hereby I present you Nithor Flaynithere - dragon deity of endless snarkitude!... Okay, patron of fury and courage actually, but that includes endless snarkitude. Formerly keeper of the eternal flame. Starter of a bloodline of dragons with anger management issues. As you know me, obscenely powerful cause I am sucha funny overkill guy, but he has his flaws and drawbacks to overcome.  Cygnis is obviously his direct descendant somewhere down the line; don’t wanna tie my hands with an exact generation.

Cyg's Ancestor job at first was being a sort of head of security in the Dominion - think like where Olympus was an HQ for Greek gods, it was such place for the gods of Vernazij (Can just read it as Vernazi - I also have a thing for silent H’s in names, just in case), his homeworld. His top priority was tending to the aforementioned flame. He didn’t question things the way they were, as much as he started to grow bored... and suspicious. A branch of fellow, godly brethren, he could tell for sure, was plotting something. There was an ages long conflict going between them and the rest of the mostly-content deities and the inhabitants of the mortal coil ever since the whole universe was a thing.

Whaddaya starin’ at? I swear on me mum I’ll punch ya in the gabber, ya spineless tosser~

Oh yea, speaking of the universe!... The legend goes like this: An almighty deity had left their two descendants into an empty void, with a well of matter, energy and space to shape their own universe in a way they deemed fit, both as a test and as a testament to what he thaught them. But of course, being siblings with different concepts on what their world should be, it led to an obvious conflict of interests. They both ended up in the well after typical argument with just a bit more cosmic power involved. It caused a big bang of sort and they got absorbed into their own creation. Once things settled in a little after the initial blast, first deities and supreme beings got formed, forged to carry out their will. Yes, they were still waging petty conflict between themselves even after they got evaporated, go figure. They went onto forming massive armies to fight and prevail with their concepts of forming the universe. From the ashes of broken matter and the corpses of destroyed creatures - the universe kept on forming itself on its own whereas the first inhabitants didn't even notice that miracle even going. They were too busy killing each other.

As the fight had progressed, some planets did form their own life!... But didn't quite make it due to the whole conflict of cosmic proportions. They became the victims of collateral damage. Still, as the shaping force kept going and the destructive forces kept on dwindling, only inhabitants of few planets across zillions of them were able to survive, step back and come into conclusion that their conflict at this point was undesirable and pointless. They realized everything was already formed out of chaos, without much of their involvement. They were too busy fighting over missed opportunity. Now it was just a battle of who would take control over the results of said uninvolvement. The deities of one of such cases came into agreement. They decided to sit back and see how things will go on from here, as much as that was an uneasy peace. They named their home - Vernazij. (It supposed to mean something metaphorical for all the forming that world went through, but again, couldn't think of anything clever enough yet. I AM SUCHA GREAT STORYTELLER HOLY SHIT~)

You have a ‘what’, napping in your living room?

Over the course of years, things have stabilized - respective roles that were fitting given gods’ particular set of skills were given, treaties were made, tasks were completed... suddenly, Mortals! Local gods went “They look so familiar! And adorable~”. Powerless, fragile creatures that often resembled the deities, they were another byproduct of the self-sustained world creation. The gods didn't have much ideas on what to do with them, seeing they were pretty weak. so they had let them be. That was until some of them helped their mini-me’s, or did quite the opposite. Their fear or reverence resulted in worship. Worship gave them power, so gods started unhealthy competition over the mortal souls in their respective fields, forming alliances, breaking them, stabbing themselves in the back, or protecting themselves from the others - generally, you know, your favorite part that divides or brings everyone together - politics. Every god could store their worship as some kind of power, as much as one spot wasn't decidedly taken over. The irony of no one being courageous or dedicated enough to become the patron of courage. All brave acts sparked as an eternal flame instead. Nithor was denied to become its patron by old gods, saying he was “not ready”, whatever that meant. So he was just protecting the flame and the whole Dominion instead.

Sir, we are late for burning time!

As the time passed without any relatively bigger conflicts, some of the older caste of gods, still having in mind “the great plan” and the responsibility behind it, feared the day when the Great God will visit their plane. They predicted it might end up with a total disaster, seeing how they seemingly failed to carry out the will of his children. As they were scheming about taking the universe's fate into their own hands, the mortals were rather unhappy with how the old gods were ignoring them and grew to be a force to be reckoned with. They somehow breached into Dominion, which technically was impossible for mortals to do so. Nithor tried his best to fend off the angry mob off (despite his obvious disdain towards old gods, duty was a duty). But that was too much for him, even for years of staying valiant. He tried his best to keep the mortals off the premise of the eternal flame without killing anyone (no word about work-related harm, though), the flame got dispersed and tainted, and looked for a nearest, suitable vessel to claim, which happened to be him - being the best, viable candidate.

I should probably make some pics depicting the story instead, but laziness. Look at that thicc boi lazy it out~

As the things calmed down, he begrudingly resigned from his job as a keeper, considering that the flame was no more and he failed to keep the place secured. The old gods got banished from Dominion onto Vernazij’s plane. Being unaware of his state as a wielder of the slowly self-corrupting flame, he took on a life of a demigod and an adventurer as his longed form of a vacation, seeing how he was done with the godhood. He went onto numerous adventures, met a lot of folk, got married, had kids, stabilized his life... All was good and dandy, despite the more and more obvious problem of the flame rearing out, but nothing that he couldn't manage - he just blamed it on some magic diarrhea of sorts, being as oblivious to his status as ever... Well, that was until huge accident happened. Or more like, an incident. A one that had changed the world forever, which got named in the legends as the Deadmaker's March.

That whole mess was orchestrated by his old god workmates - starting from leaving a breach in the Dominion’s defenses for mortals to enter, then letting the eternal flame to be disturbed. Their exodus was also obviously predicted part. They knew what the flame was capable of and wanted to weaponize it, but it needed a vessel... which Nithor was an obvious candidate for, but they needed both him and the flame to be unstable. After getting him on the edge by destroying his family and everything he valued from behind the scenes - Nithor went onto a rampage Vernazij has never seen before and thereafter. Only by combined forces of all mortals and all the gods they were able to seal him away, as defeating nor controlling him was impossible - every single act of force against him was only making him stronger and even more furious. The old gods initial plan had failed, they wanted to rebuild the world from its ashes as it should be in their eyes. Still, they got their much-sought retribution after having a hand in the process of capturing him. Their scheming continued.

Mona Lisa as fuck.

And what about Nithor? As much as they tried to fool him, speak into his senses to become their ally in their quest for the control over the universe “for the greater good”... He saw through their intentions of destroying anything that doesn’t want to abide to their will or worldview, which made him hate them with all his guts - he valued his own and the universe’s freedom of choice above all. After spending three millenias in fury-blinded seclusion, he breaks out from his prison, dead-set on murdering them all and anything that dares to stand in his path. As a last act of the prison's purpose, it used all the energy it stored by draining his unrelenting fury to get him back into senses, and seal it away. Unphazed by that event, he sets forth on a mission to kick the old gods' butts into oblivion (or whatever constitutes for them as butts) by retrieving his old gear as a keeper, getting control over his horrid power and single-handedly dealing with all of them. However, as three millenias worth of time was more than enough for them to prepare a whole plethora of nasty surprises, such as painting him as an evil villain in the eyes of the whole world and themselves as icons of pure intentions (imagine that whole narrative in history for past millenias is painting you as a Sauron of the universe) - his mission became harder and more complicated than ever. They hid the truth under unparalleled amounts of lies, and destroyed any evidence they could find that could prove otherwise. The fact that Nithor had all the looks and wits of a supreme asshole didn’t help on his case, either.

I am a tallyman of your mistakes. I am the executioner for your sins. Now face what you have poured into me, for what I’ll pour into you.

...Hot damn, that actually sounded pretty intimidating, go me, bwa-ha ha!

Most of his allies are either gone in the sands of time, or still mad at him, if they didn’t bite the dust yet. He scored couple millions of deaths during his grudge-filled killing spree, so you can imagine how many souls are willingful out there to get near or even think about hearing him out... Quite the contrary, with a little exception that are the depths of Taumthegos - the local equivalent of Hell. He is being revered there for obvious reasons.

A cynical jerk by trade, Nithor’s temptation to do the easy thing and go ballistic is strong. But he is not without a heart, even after everything he went through and people hating his guts, he refuses to do so. He felt partially responsible for all the mess he got involved in and wanted to prove everyone wrong and show who’s the real enemy here. He kept finding clues about old gods’ mischief during his time of absence. The problem was, with all due respect for his pure intentions, his rather abrasive nature. More often than not, he screwed up his opportunities on coming out as a good guy. He was hellbent on getting shit done and ignorant about anything that wasn’t helpful towards his quest, rather than approaching the people who were interested in hearing him out and finding a common goal. He still had plenty of humor and determination (and lack of common sense) to go against the whole world which hated him so much for sins of days long past. And a whole journey to go through to learn again how to be a decent being. The truth is the ultimate value, no matter how painful or regretful it might be - he will bring it out.

So lemme tell you Victor, the story of the great!... Meeee!... Crap, that sounded better in my head. I should have just used my name or something. Should I start over?

Considering that Cygnis and his descendants are a thing and I am writing this whole ordeal in retrospect, you can safely assume that he had succeeded in getting his good name and life (to a degree) back. But what constitutes of his adventures, how he knows about Earth and its fineness of culinary such as the casserole and how he got in touch with his late grandson?

...Those are stories for another time!

Tl;dr yada yada that’s a lot of bullshit. Kerist, that was stressful to pull off. Hoping that at least it’s somewhat enjoyable, to a degree.

[daedamnatus]

Chapter 11 of the Sun Hunters tale is out

And here’s a long excerpt featuring my boy Alexej, with Quinlan and Setrakian because the Strain Finale broke my cold, black heart. (This precedes the mini story from this post: Lar goes gun shopping.)

His first real encounter with death could have been stretched over a period of time. The least pleasant memory was the first time he had to clean up the Ancients’ chamber. Mopping the floor of blood, urine, and other fluids he couldn’t identify had been his task as a new recruit. The difficult part, after trying to ignore the smells, was getting the grime off the floor when it was too dark to properly work. The concrete had taken on the permanent tint of red. He’d learned to ignore the Ancients after two days. They simply didn’t care about him.

When that was done, he was tasked with cleaning the sanitaries in the prisoner cells. He then had to empty the ashes in the incinerator. It wasn’t blasting the necessary high temperatures to reduce the skeletons down to fine powder, and the resulting pile of debris made him lose his appetite. He made sure that he’d finished digesting his meal prior to that activity.

“You realize they’re grinding you to blind obedience.”

Lex climbed out of the dark enclosure of the incinerating chamber and brushed himself off, his black overalls looking not-so-black anymore, covered in gray and white ashes. He coughed as he looked at Quinlan, who was standing in the doorway. Lex was certain he had breathed someone, or several people, into his lungs.

“As long as they’re making me do this, they don’t send me to hunt humans for them.”

The tall half-strigoi stared at him with sad white eyes. He always wore his coat and old battle harness. The last time he’d seen him, Lex had left him to find the pawnbroker.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” Quinlan commanded him. “I want you to meet someone.”

He was used to obeying orders, whether it came from a senior security officer, or a century-old strigoi. A half-human from ancient times was nothing different. When Lex had quickly rinsed himself and changed into his black uniform and combat gear, he met Quinlan in the operations room. An older man was there in a suit and hat. He wielded a strange cane with a wolf head handle.

“Professor Abraham Setrakian,” Quinlan formally introduced, “this is Alexej Havlik. His grandfather was the last Sun Hunter in the Czech Republic.”

“A human working with strigoi… to hunt strigoi?”

His voice was grating with age and he took a few steps closer, as if to try to recognize or better memorize his face. Lex politely nodded.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Professor.”

Setrakian looked back at Quinlan. “It’s not muscle we need, it’s the Occido Lumen.”

Lex was unsure whether he should ask or preserve the man’s energy with his curiosity. He eyed the Born.

“An old book,” explained Quinlan, “which is believed holds the key to destroying the Master.”

A book. Lex took a step forward under the ceiling light over the table.

“So there are actual records of the Ancients? Have they been killed before?”

“For hundreds of years the truth has been hidden from the world,” Setrakian said, clutching his cane as he supported himself. Lex pulled out a chair for him to sit, to which the tired man gratefully complied. “I have been searching for the Lumen for decades, and in my pursuit I made many enemies. Collaborators of the Master. They are here, in New York.”

The Ancients, the Sun Hunters… now Setrakian and a secret book were all pointing in the same direction. His own lineage included. Lex blinked several times before looking up to see Quinlan in an equally studious expression.

“My grandfather, did he know about this book?”

Quinlan’s eyes darted from him to Setrakian. “Are you suspecting that your family was sent here for a hidden purpose?”

His parents never spoke to him about Jaromir, his grandfather. They were nostalgic of their homeland, but never told him about his ancestors. So many secrets, untold stories were now being filled with mystery and he conspired that perhaps…

“They left the country last month to find my uncle in Prague,” he spoke under his breath. “My parents. They left me a note in my apartment.”

“Mister Havlik,” Setrakian intervened, “perhaps you should research your family’s whereabouts.”

He felt his chest thumping over his accelerated heart beat. Quinlan creased his brows together and leaned over the table, gloved hands holding the tabletop.

“If they fled knowing the strigoi couldn’t be defeated, what kind of parent would leave their son behind?”

“Maybe they didn’t know,” Lex tried to convince himself, shaking his head slowly.

“They didn’t know the Sun Hunters were here,” Quinlan finished for him. “They tried to shelter you from your fate but you’re here now, with us.”

Setrakian sized him up and Lex worried they were wasting time investigating his past.

“What Mister Quinlan is meaning to say,” explained Setrakian, “is that we have to work together. I have gathered a group of talented people, based in Red Hook. If you can find where we can locate the Master or the Lumen, I’d appreciate if you join us.”

He groaned and pulled himself up to stand. Lex looked at him and bit the inside of his cheek.

“My place is here,” he said, not without glancing at Quinlan. “If I can make a difference, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

Setrakian sighed and made his way out of the room, Lex followed and was intrigued as to how far the pawnbroker could navigate in the hallways.

“Don’t take too much time, Mister Havlik. I don’t share your faith in the Ancients. They are, after all, equals to the Master.”

Two Hunters escorted him out. Lex wasn’t familiar enough with them to recognize their faces, only Vaun, Lar and Duz were unmistakable so far.

He returned to speak to Quinlan around the table. The Born was sitting down now, legs crossed as he seemed lost in thought. He stood for a short moment wondering whether Quinlan even cared that someone else was in the room.

“You don’t look in a hurry to find the Lumen,” Lex attempted, pulling a chair to sit at the table.

Quinlan pulled off a glove to reveal long white fingers that he idly ran along his head before answering.

“The Professor is running out of time.”

Lex had noted the state of exhaustion of Setrakian, the labored breathing and pained stance.

“Well, he’s mortal,” Lex shrugged.

“He is quite old, isn’t he?”

He snorted and grinned at Quinlan who stayed stoic, but for only a second before he smiled back.

“Not as old as I am, I’ll grant you that. But for what the Professor has lived, it’s a wonder he is still alive to this day. Which is not regrettable, on the contrary... His work to hunt down the Master is remarkable. I understand why he would seek to prolong his life to such extent.”

Lex looked up and couldn’t ponder his line of thought. “Are you saying he’s not mortal?”

Pensively inspecting the thick layer over his glove, Quinlan returned a cold eye back at him.

“He needs help from an unnatural source,” he replied, “the very same thing that preserves a strigoi from dying of old age.”

“Is it really possible?” Lex asked with genuine interest. “Can a human become immortal without turning?”

Quinlan tilted his head with a skeptical look before he let out a short sigh.

“There have been experiments on strigoi since the dawn of time. Of course, humans have tried to cheat death with strigoi blood but it only worked for a time. As we can see with the Professor.”

“Why didn’t he just turn, like Vaun?”

He put his glove back on and looked towards the door. “That’s up to the Ancients.”

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