#also I had forgotten how much origins is just straight up lord of the rings

[fithragaer]

Yuri sweep

[idjitlili]

You're dead lachance.

Spike btvs x reader

Summary: Being Giles niece, going to America with him, only to meet Spike. There is anonymous request in here, 'getting locked in a room with Spike.'

A/n: slightly in Sundale , but mostly based in Los Angeles, the reader is British, due to being related to Giles. Hey, that's good for me , I'm British too. There's a request from anon but I'm not going to say to keep it a surprise. Malteser is a chocolate ball. How come I can write this much now? But I've got assignment s at are only 2000k words.

Word count:5019 Longest imagine yet.

Warnings: Language, Twilight hate references,period, questioning if vampires eat that answer is no or unconfirmed.

Not even a week ago, you had came home , only for your parental figure to rush to the door to greet you. Not long after that you were packing your suitcase for America , apparently your uncle Rupert had invited you out there. It had quite literally been years seen you had seen him, but not long until you would again.

In fact , it hadn't been even twenty four hours , before you were stood in his magic store. You weren't even sure why Rupert had brought you here. The suitcase that held your belongings , stood at your feet as Rupert  had welcomed you in, unlike your uncle had expected , the shop was completely empty, people wise.

Forced to sit down, while Rupert  made you a tea,informing you that he would get you settled at his home once he finished closing up his shop. What it felt like hours to you ,waiting, deciding it was best to read the book you had brought with you, not that you could really concentrate you just wanted to get cleaned up , in honesty.

Fingers tapping against the pine table , trying to read Boromir's last moments in Lord of the rings, re reading the same paragraph over , and over. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo ' , he glance strayed to his fallen enemies,20." Re reading those words same words, unable to comprehend them, like your brain was blocked by a tinfoil hat, that's bullshit. Three arrows he had been struck with, yet he was still able to kill twenty highly trained orcs , more than an average vampire could do.

You were no stranger to vampires , you hadn't encountered one to say, but you knew of Rupert  job as a watcher. Though you had watched Lord of the rings many times (or not it's just replace it) and yet you still couldn't pass it , didn't Rupert have workers to clean his shop? Repeating those words , still. "Hello ,love." You almost peed yourself , standing up abruptly launching your book at the thing that had pulled you out of your distracted book reading.

Bragging your lighter from your pocket, self defence lighter, holding in front of you. As the flame lit,lifting your head up at your 'attacker' , only to be met with a smirk and platinum leather wearing man, who had caught your book with ease. "Really a lighter?" British, you had not spoken to one American , since landing.

You had just continued to stare at him not quite certain what to say, until he did again. "So , Boromir ,hm?"  You hadn't notice him step forward , holding your book for you to take back, hesitating you took it from him slowly. "Uh, yes. Thank you,but ,um, who are you?"

"Spike, and you are?"Who names there son after a sharp object? Spike had smugly smiled , placing his in his trouser pockets, it was if he was proud. You didn't get a chance to respond to Spike, before Rupert had reappeared , standing between you and Spike.

"Spike , get away from my niece, I will not allow you to corrupt her." Spike had gasped dramatically, putting his had over his mouth ,"You're related to him? But Blimey he's all ARGH and you're not." Spikes face of disgust when he looked at your uncle, Rupert had removed his glasses and began cleaning his glasses.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" Picking up your bags , as Rupert ushered Spike out of the shop, with you behind to lock up, it now being dark.  "It was lovely to meet you , Giles attractive niece.." "Y/n." "Y/n.." Repeating your name back slowly smiling , only if you knew he was an evil defective vampire.

"Quit the flirting Spike, she's not going to be here long." That was the last you saw of Spike , for now anyways. It wasn't even another 24 hours later , your uncle had sent you off to Los Angeles , to Wesley at Wolfram & Hart.

Wesley...you had seen him in years , since he left England. You being younger than him by some years , but you had been friends with him , being connected to Giles and all. You were brought to America to work for an evil law firm not your ideal future.

That was a year ago , not as bad as you had originally thought, Angel the CEO was indeed broody but he was trying to make a difference. In fact , the job paid very well, and all you did really read up on demons and sometimes view bodies for symbols and such.

Perhaps,yes, it did get quite lonely, it  wasn't like you had you mum to make you meals or anything. All you could have was calls from her now and then. Wesley was your friend; but he was too busy flirting with Fred. The others well, you weren't close friends, just friends.

Today was not a great day for you, first you had gotten to work  without lunch, forgotten a jacket, and Angel scheduled a meeting but you had fallen down the stairs three times. Ten minutes late, a huge bruise on your head , ruffled hair and clothing not looking very bodacious.

Knocking on the door to Angel's office three times gently , before waiting for his response to allow you in. Everyone staring at you , your face flushed with embarrassment. "I-I'm so sorry, you won't believe today has been horrible, I wouldn't have been late if I hadn't of fallen down the same stairs three times."

Heavily breathing from all the rushing, head aching like you had just hit your head falling down the stairs, Angel and the others looking at you with slight sympathy. "I've got to get a look at this muppet." That voice, you knew that that voice, until Spike had appeared from the corner of the meeting room , as you and Angel were about to walk into the room.

Almost bumping into Spike as you and him both met the door at the same time. You two would've bumped right into each other, but he passed right though you. Turning back around to see if you imagined that or not, turns out you didn't Spike was stood in front you , looking at you , with gaped mouth which didn't last long until he was smiling.

"W-what?H-how did y-" "Nice to see you again , love. Well, not long after you left I saved the world, and died. No need to thank me , love," Angel had coughed , pulling your attention from Spike charming smile he was sending your way, to him gesturing you to sit.

Spike had not decided to sit down , but to stand behind Angel at an Angel, one to annoy Angel which you could already see in his face , two to be in eye range of you. Not that he liked you , he full loved Buffy, for now anyways.

Angel had officially began the meeting , head-aching still, probably why you couldn't concentrate, concussion. All you could think was , wow Casper the friendly ghost, well you didn't know he wasn't , and that he was a vampire.

So lost in thought ,well no just pain , you didn't hear the calling of your name or snapping of fingers in front of your open eyes.

"Y/n? Y/n?" Only when there is a touch of a small hand on your shoulder , you realise , looking up to see Fred. "Yes, sorry. Um , I hit my head a bit too hard."

"Angel , she needs to go to a doctor. Her head is literally bleeding out , ""Yeah you should've sent her straight away, she fell down the fucking stairs, for a vampire with a soul , you have no compassion." Spike had interrupted Wesley, to criticise Angel.

You had a couple of days off last week , to visit your family, hence you hadn't seen Spike there before that. You had fallen off your chair when you had felt a hand on your shoulder, moving to see if that was Angel or Lorne, but it wasn't.

"Already on your knees for me?" Spike, staring down at you , smirking what a shock. "I'm not even on my knees, I'm on my butt. Plus what you want me to do mime."

"Okay, okay, Hon, let's go take to a doctor." Lorne had helped you up, as Spike had smiled Wider, as you both left, with some calls of sympathy's.

You only had to have you bloody head , in your hairline glued back together. Not surprising when there was blood dripping down your face like a waterfall. Other than that you were back the next day, carrying on your week like you would normally would.

Each week that went by Spike would come visit your office, mostly at lunch, knowing you didn't leave your office to socialise, only to use the bathroom. It had started with him using the excuse that he wanted to see how you were doing , after falling down the stairs, which was quite hard to believe,as he didn't seem like the caring type.

Then it he came to your office to tell you stories  about him saving the world and just recently , almost being killed by another ghost.

You hadn't even seen that when he entered your office he used the door by turning the handle, instead of going through it. Not at least until he had spooked you again ,placing his hand your shoulder squeezing it slightly.  Falling again out of you chair, probably would've smacked the back of your head on your desk.

If you weren't grabbed by your forearms, and were lifted back onto your feet, by rough hands... Spike had scared you to death again, yet this time he had saved your fall.  Pulling a arm from his, looking into his eyes, as you brought your hand to his cheek, your finger tips against his cheek bone. His skin soft, not how you would've imagined.

Cold.

His skin, cold , but now he isn't a ghost? So why does he feel like the other side of the pillow on a summer night. Moments go by ,not many , before you pulled away again. "Fred , s-she figured out how to bring y-you back?" Still wondering why he felt like ice,  also to hide the embarrassment that you had touched his face without asking.

"No, someone sent me some post,"  The distance between you two was more than close, your legs pressed against your desk, Spike's face barely inches away, he must've closed in on you. "Oh lovely,um have you had anything to eat yet?" He had smiled at you , with lust in glittering in his eyes , but not for what you might think, but hunger.

"I have not." Don't turn Edward ,please, no one wants that ,'Oh I'm sorry Bella but you might die if we fuck, because of my huge Thanos sized dick.' "Oh , well I've got , um, some sandwiches, that's if you want to share." You had gently made your way passed Spike as he nodded slightly suggesting we would share, to get into your bag, reaching for your lunch bag.

Both sitting at the sofa in your handing Spike a sandwich, as you held yours, facing each other, sitting on your calves, well Spike couldn't do that , if you know what you mean. Not long after you had reached for your flask , pouring it into your cup. "Tea?" Spike had grabbed the cup from your hand, drinking a fair lot down, before handing it back to you, mixture of crumbs and tea around his mouth. "You know how to make good tea, not those bloody Americans , milk first , bloody bullshit."

Before anything was said, Lorne had burst into the room , panic washed over his face. "Angel needs you both , quick honeys! We don't have time to spare." To say the least you were confused , never less you all headed to Angel's office and soon enough you were all, Angel, Spike, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne were driving to a safe house. 'A rescue mission.' Apparently, you didn't even know who you were supposed to rescue, all you knew was you was all supposed to stay here until they arrived.

Sounded fishy , and you were right to think so, not long after you all discovered it was a trap. Probably just about a hundred vampires, were lurking around the property, waiting...

The floors creaking as you all walked across the the pine wood hallway, not to mention you had barely any fighting stills, all you held was a stake. The others well that ways a mixture of axes , and stakes. Sorry not only vampires in this house, spirits too. Spike had paired off with you , whilst the others did the same , you both walked into a bedroom, which was thick with mould and dust.

Not even one step in the door had slammed shut, Spike had immediately tried the door body slamming against , but it was no use. As you made your way to the window, "Spike.." BANG still going at the door , "SPIKE." Whisper shouting to him, gesturing for him to come over , once he had heard you.

"Vampires..." pulling you away from the window, out of sight." We need to get out of here, now."

"Where? we can't get out of here." Looking around the room there was no options. You don't even get to take a breath ; before the window is smashed in as well of the door, you are both completely circled , 7 vampires.  Before you know it they are lunged for you , gripping your stake tightly , as you fight  a vampire off , with struggle , god damnit. Where's David from lost boys, instead you are stuck with one that's never brushed it's teeth.

Finally stabbing it in the heart. Proof another one bites the dust. Now there was even more dust in this house. The rest of the vampires were dead, you didn't realise that Spike had taken on the rest with no struggle, turning to face you after dusting the last one, his face,his face. He was one of them, he had been dead this whole time , even when he was brought back.

"Y-you're a vampire?" Shocked was to say the least what you were feeling , he had turned back laughing lightly.

"What were you expecting? The Easter bunny?Did you think I was human? This whole time, oh love." It wasn't that you felt like you trusted him less after finding out but still, you're an idiot, no you are not.  "I thought you were because you are my food; Plus I thought vampires were evil?"

"I wasn't going to refuse a sandwich. I have Soul, love. For your information, I got it the hard way, not like that brooding bugger."

"Sorry, Can we go now?" Thus Spike tried the door again, it had opened, both of you rushed out and down the stars , out the doors to find the others in the car waiting , like it was a robbery.

Your lunches with Spike continued even months after finding out he was a vampire; yet now you packed enough lunch for the two of you. Though he could just have his blood, but no he wanted your food. In honesty he was lucky that you actually shared your food with him.

You were sure that Spike must've preferred the company of Fred over you, and there was a day that he didn't have lunch with you. Apparently he had went to see Buffy , yet he was back the next day, why he hadn't stayed with the woman he loved , that was unknown to you. Thus there he was having lunch with you everyday you were at work.

You had even watched Lost boys with him one lunch. "You think I'm like that ponce?" Why the offices had TVs you had no idea. You had told Spike that he had reminded you of David. "W-what, It's not that hard to believe , first both of you have cool hair , two he is evil but the evil that you're like wow he's not that bad , he's cute and maybe he not what he seems. Like Loki, God of mischief." Spike had scoffed, laughing slightly.

"Did you just call me cute? I'm bad , I'm evil, mortals quiver under my wrath." He had made a toothy scrunched face , whilst bringing his hands up like he was a bear attacking, only to make you grin harder. "Okay, now you are a kinky Loki 'quiver under my wrath' seriously?"

"And how would you know what's kinky, love?" His words delivered with a smirk , that made your cheeks redden just by his gaze. "Uh,um, well I read a lot- I MEAN I do stuff all the time like last night.. he had a cane."

"Oh really, he had a cane?"

"Yep thats correct."

"Well that's a shame, love , because I've seen you face stuck in your books , blushing... and I can smell the innocence radiating off of you."

"Hey! Don't go smelling that, so you're telling me that when I have my period you can smell that too? You know what don't answer that, nor do I want to know if you've ever eaten that. Nor do I want to know why I thought of that.." Throwing a Malteser at him, would've hit him if he hadn't caught it in his mouth. 

"I cannot believe you just said that. Love, you have too much time over thinking."

"No doubt , that's why I was never popular , let's pretend I never said that thing and only that compared you to David and Loki, hm?"

"Of course, I wish you hadn't given me the idea,joking I swear."

"Uh, I don't know if you like men or not but when the male part is erected it's one of the most blood filled appendages plus I looked you up, William the bloody, maybe that's how you got your name.." Yes maybe you spent more than your lunch hour not doing work, sitting cross legged now facing Spike completely , who just had turned his upper body from the tv.

Angel though, you'd think he was just happy , happy that Spike wasn't in his office constantly annoying him. It wasn't easy for anyone to keep Spike entertained. "I do not suck cocks nor have I ever , love, I have nothing against those that do,but I assure you that my terrible poetry is the only reason for the name, "

"Nothing to do with you killing hundreds of people?"

"Oh yeah, that too." Nothing more was spoken, you both had went back watching until lunch was over, then you were back to work. By five you had left to go home , not even two hours later you had realised you had left your house keys in your office. You had went to the shops, for some general stuff , hence why you hadn't realised you had left your keys.

Making it back to Wolfram & Hart , around nine o'clock, deciding to get some food , for after you got your keys and got home finally. The security man, Dean, had let you , well no he had was turned doing something and you slipped in, the rest of the firm was dark , everyone had left, or that's what you had thought.

Opening your office door, with your key, why you had it separated from your house key , you don't know , but it was lucky you had one set otherwise someone could've went through your stuff. Well there wasn't much really interesting, ancient books and such. Rushing to your desk in the dark searching everywhere , under your desk, in the draws, the floor.

Finally finding them down the side of the sofa , which you were sat at with Spike, watching Lost boys. When the door swings open , you are quickly grabbed by the foreman's and are shoved against the wall."what are doing here?" The mans voice, aggressive, yet you know who it belonged to, Spike. No very difficult to figure out as you spent at least an hour with him , five times a week, for months.

"Uh, I just left my keys." Spikes grip had loosened on your arms slightly. " Y/n?" Pushing him off of you,"yes, yes it's me , thanks for attacking me, " It was pitch black in your office , only the light from the moon , now on your face , part of it anyways.

"Well, Bloody hell, love you shouldn't be in an evil law firm by your lonesome , especially at night."

"What you are going to eat me now?" Spike wasn't even a foot away; if he was a live you'd feel his breath on your face. Instead the cold air surrounded you, Spikes arm above your head closing you in, only being able to look at his face , an outline of it. "Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you,pet?" You had scoffed lightly at him.

"Shut up, my foods getting cold , and I don't like it in here." Ducking under Spikes arm, grabbing your food and key, before making your way out your office and the building. Spike following you ,but the security guard was gone and the door was locked , no way out.

"Well isn't that bloody brilliant."

"There's no way we are getting out of here , till morning ,"

"Can't we call someone?"

"I don't know , do you have anyone's number?" That was it , you both had headed back to your office , found some candle, since the electricity had been turned off, at on the floor with your food. You weren't sure why he decided to stay with you , maybe it was just that you had food.

Your back against the sofa , as you both ate , you were in no doubt that you were talking tomorrow off. You knew you or Spike was going to have to sleep on the sofa, ah yes perfect, back pains. "Why were you here so late anyways?" After finishing your mouthful of food, why Spike would want to lurk here at night , that was unknown.

"Just snooping through Angels stuff, then I heard you, so."

"Ah, of course." Smirking at you , leaning back his palms behind him, sideways on from you, uh , you're not Ryan Reynolds? Actual um, sorry but you're hotter. Your food all gone , except the small amount of drink left.

"Honestly this couldn't be a better day, my keys fell down the side of the sofa , and I didn't realise until I went home. Then this happened , and now we are stuck here, when I could be at home, sleeping."

"It's not so bad, you could've been stuck here with Angel, love."

" You really don't like Angel, I'm not surprised he makes small problems seem unsolvable. Yet within a couple of hours , all is fine. Actually that sounds a lot like me, over thinking everything. But yeah Angels is a bit of an arse."

Spike only smirking at you, in return.

Glancing at your watch , 12:03 , you were only lucky that Spike was able to pick the lock on the toilets. Otherwise you don't know what you would've done, ah yes, peeing yourself in front a rather good looking , dead man. Leaving your office to go pee again , before returning rubbing your eyes as you walked through the door.

"Are you going to get some sleep, love?" Spike had cleaned up all the rubbish, throwing it all away, you wouldn't expect that from dead guy, former mummy's boy. "Uh, if the sofa wasn't built like a rock, yes , but since that's the case no." Settling back onto the floor, careful not to catch on fire, as you crossed passed some of candles.

Instead of Spike replying yet , he had stood up and made his way to the sofa , plopping himself onto it, with poof. "You got to be joking love , you clearly never have lived in a crypt." W h at was it wish vampires living in crypts , or complaining that their huge cold dick will spilt a human in half. Turning to face the sofa, not being able to see Spike, letting out a dry laugh.

"Yeah that doesn't convince me, are you just so old that you don't remember that every day at lunch that I sit on that sofa with you?" Spike had sat up to look at you with a glare ,yet again scoffing. "Well then , Pet, how about you come lay on me, I'm very comfortable."

Without thought you had gotten up , and thrown yourself onto Spike, both groaning as your back slammed into Spikes chest. He was lucky really that your butt bone , not tail bone, the top of your leg one, didn't smash into his parts. Instead he had wrapped around you so you were stuck in place. "I see what you are doing."

"And what is that?"

"I body slammed you, now you're cuddling with me? Mental , you're an ice cube, yeahh sureeee so comfortable, I love being engulfed by Vanilla ice."  Not that he looked much like Vanilla ice but it's a little funny, not really but.

"Hey, I won't stand to be your cushion , with your bullying."

"Didn't you kill hundreds of people? And you get defensive when I call you Robert van Wrinkle?" Turning your head to look up to Spike who was looking down on you, shuffling so that you were laying next to the sofa back and on Spike with your hand on his chest.

"Love,I'll eat you, try sleep." This isn't a Loki imagine when he kidnaps you and it turns out he's a vampire , and he gets busy and drinks your blood for a fetish. Spikes arms around your shoulder , eventually falling asleep with your head on his chest.

Everything was fine, until Wesley and the rest of them had came looking for you. As you was supposed to be in a meeting with them in the morning , so was Spike but they were worried for you.

"Couldn't they do that at home?"

"Can I poke them with a stick?"

"Ah yes, poke the mass murdering vampire , very smart ,Gunn. "

No consideration of being quiet, you both had been woken, it wouldn't be that surprising if Spike was pretending to be asleep , to avoid talking to people he didn't like very much except Fred.

Waking up to see a bunch of people just smiling at you at , wasn't the best. "So, Spike what about Buffy?" Sitting up ,before standing up from Spike, must've hurt having a whole body on you all night , maybe it didn't effect him because he has super strength? Spike just turned to sit on the sofa , unimpressed facial expression, hunched.

"Buffy has her own life, I'm not apart of it."

"I-is this all you came her for? To wake us? And   taunt? I'm taking the day off ," No uncertainty that you wanted to get home, and shower and eat. You had looked back at Spike who had looked back , standing up. "I'll drive you."  Grabbing your bag, before bow in front of Angel for whatever reason. "Thank you so much for locking us in an evil law firm all night. Bye Fred, Wesley, Gunn , Lorne."

"Bye hon." Lorne was always a sweetheart , wishing that every guy was like him, kindest soul and very much cute. Spike and you had left after you had sent Lorne a smile. Walking out with bed hair and day old clothes , not that Spike had offered his arm but you were still holding onto to walk.

Walking past Harmony, she had sent daggers your way, why doesn't she just kidnap Orlando Bloom or something. Gripping onto Spikes arm tighter , walking down the stairs, not falling this time, thankfully. Before you made it to Angels' car park, and got into one of this favourite cars. "Uh, are we supposed to be taking Angels car?"

"What? It's mine, love, what are you going on about?" Opening the the car door at the same time , settling in the seats before slamming the door shut. The windows of the car , made from the same glass that wolfram & Hart was supplied with, since the cars were supplied by wolfram & Hart for Angel, a vampire. That also meant that Spike could drive in the sunlight protected.

"Okay, okay." Once you had made it into your building car park, Spike had walked with you up to your door. Being finally able to unlock your door, with your shopping ,lucky there wasn't any fridge nor freezer items. Turning back to Spike who just stood at your door, grinning slightly.

"T-thank you for staying with me yesterday, and for driving me home." A small blush upon your face, it wasn't unknown to you that you had developed a crush on Spike , how couldn't you? "That's alright ,love." Still stood in front of you, looking into your e/c eyes , you staring into his brightly lit blue ones. He was waiting for you to say or to do something.

Leaning to the side of his face, to press a peck onto his pale toned cheek. Instead of course , he had turned and you ended up pressing your lips , onto his briefly. Pulling away red cheeked , Spike now smirking at you again. "H-hey um, do you want to come and watch Lord of the rings with me?" You weren't sure what you was supposed to say after kissing someone accidentally.

"I would," thus that you held your door open wide, "I invite you into my home."

Therefore, you watched Lord of the rings with a dead man.

[darthkvznblogs]

From His Vantage Upon the Moon #1

Thor, Doctor Strange, and the Olympians

(MCU x Percy Jackson and the Olympians x Supergiant Games' Hades)

It's rather bad form for a visiting god not to check in with the local deities; Thor's already missed two visits, so he really oughta visit Mount Olympus - though in his defense, being cast out by Odin really shouldn't count. Fortunately, Doctor Strange is willing to play mediator between the typically fickle pantheons.

(From His Vantage upon the Moon is a collection of one-shot stories set in the Kryptonverse, an MCU based crossover universe including over 16 franchises so far. You can find the original work here, but I'll also be posting each short story here on Tumblr, too! If you like what I do, and would like to support me, you can find me on Ko-fi!)

“Are you entirely certain you wish to accompany me, Sorcerer?” –Thor asks, raising an eyebrow as they stand just outside the Empire State Building. Despite the fact that they’re in street clothes, Thor’s outrageously chiseled physique keeps drawing quite a few lascivious gazes, much to Stephen’s chagrin.

“Were it truly up to me, I’d be happy to let you make a fool of yourself.” –he drawls. “My duties, however, require me to mediate your reunion.”

Thor hums. “I don’t recall requiring a mediator during my last visit.” –he grouses. “The Lords of Olympus were quite amenable to our brief presence on Midgard back then.”

“That was then, and this is now. Earth has changed quite a bit in your absence.” –Strange argues. “The Olympians and their demigod children, in particular, have suffered through quite a bit of turmoil in the past few decades – particularly so in the last five years. Compounded with the thinning of the Mist, they’re bound to be wary of anyone outside their immediate circle of trust. Even if you were a friend.”

“Ah. I see.” –Thor mutters. “Strange, is it not? Their own troubles, Loki’s betrayal and the bandit rampage throughout the Nine Realms...we’ve had centuries of peace, and now this. So much has happened in so little time.”

Strange sighs. “I’m afraid this could just be the beginning. But this isn’t the time for that.” –he says. “Let’s hurry along. You have an invasion to repel.”

The god and the sorcerer walk into the building. A security guard stands beside the elevator – less a person and more a magical security measure meant to dissuade mortals (and even some demigods) from entering the gods’ abode. The guard recognizes Strange, though, and merely waves him into the elevator – though not before shooting Thor a vaguely hostile look.

“Odd custom, this.” –Thor notes, as Strange punches in their destination – floor 600. “Moving their home around so often – seems rather a hassle. What’s wrong with the original Mount Olympus?”

“The Olympians like to chase the most powerful nations around, eager for worship as they are. Right now, America’s at the top of the food chain.” –Strange retorts. “Though I hear they’re considering moving back to Greece as part of their big PR strategy. This part of the world is getting rather crowded, rather fast – and Greece could certainlyuse the tourism it’d bring, once they reveal themselves to the world.”

“I remember their strange worship-sustenance, yes.” –Thor recalls as he raises an eyebrow. “Have the mortals truly forgotten us?”

Strange shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Your kind may have become myths, but we still retell them in many forms. That being said, very few people believe in the gods – and I’m not entirely certain that they think of you as you truly are. You and your kin, in particular, have drawn some rather nastyfollowers in the past century or so.”

Thor winces. “Jane mentioned as much, during my brief stay. Something about ‘perfect Arian men’.” –he mutters, disheartened. “Hatred and fear twist the minds of gods and mortals alike. Such it has been as long as I’ve lived.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. It’s up to us to set the record straight.” –Stephen says.

Thor nods as the elevator dings, opening to the golden gates and pristine marble of Olympus. “Aye, that we are.”

The duo make their way forth, magically changing into their mystical regalia. Lesser gods and nature spirits look on in surprise and curiosity as Thor cheerfully greets them, giggling nymphs and naiads huddling into gossiping circles. The throne room sits atop a small cliff, like the Parthenon in Athens, overlooking the entire realm and the hazy mortal world, barely visible below.

When they enter, Strange can’t help but be surprised; it’s been maybe a month since he was last on Olympus, and yet he can barely recognize the figures sat on each of the thirteen thrones, each of them at least thirty feet tall – the only exception being the hooded figure of Hestia, placidly sat within the flames of the hearth in the middle of the room.

“Venerable Lords and Ladies of Olympus.” –Stephen half bows. “The Mighty Thor, Firstborn of Odin, God of Thunder, Strength, and Fertility, would request an audience of you.”

The god at the head of the Pantheon leans forward. King Zeus looks very different – his skin is a few shades darker than Strange remembers, closer to the olive tones of the Greek, and his more or less sensible black hair and beard have dramatically changed to become cloud-like in appearance, billowing in the ever-present wind of the divine mountaintop. Gone, too, is his perfectly tailored suit – he is clad in a golden toga, accented in white, and a plethora of rings adorn his hands, one of which casually holds the Master Bolt. A crown of stylized lightning sits atop his head. “Master Sorcerer.” –he greets, his voice booming like distant thunder. “And the Lord Thor. Welcome to Olympus.”

“Do forgive the lack of appropriate fanfare in your reception.” –Queen Hera says, beside him, snow-white robes adorned with a golden belt and peacock feathers, sprouting like a corona behind her head. “Dragging our family together for such an impromptu visit proved a more difficult endeavor than we anticipated.”

The thirteenth god scoffs, at Zeus’ left. Lord Hades crosses his arms, ashen-skinned, bushy-bearded, and much more muscular than Strange remembers him – perhaps the most visually different of them all. A crown of burning laurels, matching his flaming feet, compliments his blood-colored chiton, and precious stones of all kinds adorn his hands and arms. “Then perhaps you should have done with the few of you who were already present, Sister Hera. Blood and Darkness, but this is a waste of my time.” –he curses, leering at their guests with black and red eyes. “Curse the day your spawn so nobly decided to include me in these affairs, Poseidon.”

Poseidon, at least, Stephen recognizes. Physically, Percy’s father looks the same as before, for some reason – even though his clothes have also regressed to what must’ve been his ancient looks. He smirks at his older brother. “We won’t keep you from your lovely family for long, Brother.” –he says, trying to placate the wrathful Lord of the Underworld. “But this is important.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with Lord Poseidon, rekindling our bonds with King Odin and his kin upon Asgard is paramount among our short-term priorities, Lord Hades.” –Athena grudgingly admits. Hades scoffs, sulking back into his throne. The virgin Goddess of Wisdom and War turns to Thor. “And I sense Lord Thor is eager to make amends for his unannounced visit and battle, earlier this year.”

Thor grins. “Indeed, Lady Athena. Though the mortals bid us worship once, Asgard recognizes Olympus’ sovereignty upon Midgard. King Odin sends his regards – and his firstborn, to aid in the protection of your world in whatever way you deem necessary.” –he says.

Zeus and Hades share a knowing look that has Strange wincing internally – they must know something about Thor that the Asgardian himself doesn’t. “There is no transgression to apologize for. And you’re allowed free transit in our domains, fellow Thunderer.” –Zeus declares, amiably enough. “Though grateful for the All-Father’s offer, we do not hold you to our service. You’ve decided to shoulder enoughresponsibilities to humanity already.”

“Your brother, I assume he is no longer a threat?” –Athena asks, narrowing her stormy grey eyes.

Thor’s smile falters. “No, he isn’t. I come fresh off his sentencing – he will live out his many, many days in our dungeons. This, I feel, does require an apology.”

“Family is a difficult matter at the best of times, Thor.” –Lady Demeter says, glaring coldly at the King of Olympus. “You have our condolences for Loki’s turn to madness.”

“Thank you, Lady Demeter.” –Thor bows. Stephen worries, despite himself, at the hint of pain in his voice.

“Madness or not, I envied your ability to challenge it alongside the mortal champions, unbound by our ancient laws as you are. Will you go join them now, in the bloodshed about to unfurl?” –Ares wonders, blood-red irises keen to see the Asgardian in action.

Thor nods curtly, his jaw set. “Indeed, Lord Ares. I do not mean to cut our meeting short, but I must aid my brothers and sisters in battle.”

“Oh, how boring.” –Aphrodite laments. Hers is the most eye-turning makeover of all – if only because she’s fully nude, pink-skinned as the day she rose from Ouranos’...remains. Only her flowing, rosy Godiva hair allows her any modesty – and even then, it’s tremendously inconsistent. Intentionally, Strange must assume. “It’s all doing battle with you warrior types. Here I thought you’d come back to see that pretty little mortal you fancied.”

Thor clears his throat. “That, uh...that is a bonus, yes.” –he admits. “But protecting the world takes priority.”

Zeus nods, approvingly – a little bit hypocritically, Strange feels, considering how hands-off the Olympians can be. “So it does, Odinson. Go with our blessing – and do join us for a spot of Nectar and Ambrosia soon. We have a few thousand years of history to catch up on, after all.”

[goattypegirl]

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides 

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 

So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...

[wrathofthewind]

xii. Burning

“Don’t worry, I already annihilated that creature.” While he spoke, Marius calmly stirred mint leaves into water, along with something that looked like salt crystals and gave a cup of the mixture to Arnalt. Because Arnalt was used to having Marius handle these kinds of ministrations whenever they went on overnight hunts, he unconsciously followed each step; first taking the solution in his mouth and washing out his teeth and tongue before spitting the foamy residue into the nearby metal tray, which Marius helpfully held up. 

“Not even her ashes remain.” Marius continued. Now wiping his face with a towel again and quickly unwrapping a treat--feeding him a tiny apple candy, one of Arnalt’s favorites, pressing it quickly on his tongue and automatically tilting his jaw to close his mouth before Arnalt could think too much. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll answer them myself, but you need to hold my hand now.”

Marius extended his hand.

Arnalt, candy still rolling in his mouth; Fucking! Turned! To! Run!

A demon couldn’t have scared him more than the sight of Marius casually coming to get him. He might as well carry a scythe and declare himself death itself! 

But he’d forgotten his legs were still numb with the effects of the dream world and fell heavily forward about to crash and crack his skull. 

A single arm braced him and kept him up, half-restraining and half-holding him.

“Alright, alright, you don’t need to hold anything you don’t want to.”

Arnalt was unceremoniously picked up in Marius’s carry. And he should’ve felt frightened but his first thought was that this was a little bit ridiculous. Marius was slightly taller than him, sure, and fairly strong… sure… like... impressively so, his body already built like forged iron, accentuated by supple and slightly tanned skin--but he was so much younger! This was not how you treated an elder! This was an insult to his royal lineage! And insult to his seniority! Marius was still an adolescent! 

Wasn’t he?

“Pft, don’t look at me like that.” Marius smirked.

A gong rang inside of Arnalt’s head. He almost lost it.

The nerve! The… The audacity!

“Careful, if you scream I’ll have to gag you.”

Ah!

If Marius could paint a picture of Arnalt right now, it would be a cool but sensitive beauty, reluctantly pressing her hands against a willful bandit who’d offended her family name. His soul’s painting would look more like a tiny frantic bird irrationally screaming.

But before he could say a single word they were already engulfed in darkness. The room faded and then… showed up again? But this time everything was in black, white and shades of grey. Marius walked straight through the walls, ignoring the still unconscious bodies of the two guards, Arnalt firmly secured in his arms.

“Tyssen! Pallax!” He practically stuttered the names out.

“Oh they’re useless, they’ll only hold us back.”

“But—!” 

It wasn’t so much a matter of concern, though of course there was, but how could Arnalt possibly trust to leave them behind after everything he’d witnessed? His mind went a mile per minute with scenarios.

“Arnalt...” The voice that interrupted his whirlwind was suddenly soft. Apology and fondness intermixed. 

It made Arnalt glance up, misty eyes blinking. 

Marius smiled with the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

Well that did it. That shut him up. Arnalt would never answer such a thing. The sheer impropriety had his ears glowing red. If his legs weren’t numb and his shoulder wasn’t wrecked he would kick him straight up. He could punch him. He still had one good arm. He could definitely punch him.

“You’ve been working very hard for my sake. I’m very happy.”

Where was the respectful “Sire” and “My Lord” and “Your Highness”! Where was the meek little thing that drank his soup, ate his rice like a good little farm animal, and then obediently followed master’s orders! What the hell, who was this boy!?

“Insolent!” Arnalt may be failing as the master of this cheeky little mongrel but he was fast becoming triumphant as the master of monosyllabic retorts. 

At least.

“Yell at me all you want when we’re out of here, I’ll gladly bare your disciplines.” Marius didn’t look at him this time, concentrating on an escape route in this watered down grey world, but his eyes betrayed a twinkle and his voice held a coquettishness that made the tip of Arnalt’s fingers itch.

Marius moved like a panther, stealthy and assured, then fast as a bolt of lightning. He wore black garbs that made him seem like a hired assassin, but Arnalt knew these were also the clothes given to criminals once they’d been issued a sentence of execution. Black as night, black as emptiness, black as the nothing they would become.

It didn’t feel good to see him dressed like this. 

Arnalt had so many questions. As if reading his mind, or just knowing the motions of what made the creature called Arnalt tick, Marius started speaking leisurely and answering questions without prompting. 

“Once they open the medical room it’ll look like someone took you. Trust me, it’s better that way, otherwise Pallax and Tyssen will face the brunt of treason, you can’t just come to the Winterlands to save me willy nilly, how foolish have you gotten lately? Shh, don’t speak, my voice is cloaked but yours is not, if anyone heard you and turned to see us, even if they found nothing, they could corner us and bump into our physical bodies. That would be awkward, I don’t like slamming into bodies if I can avoid it.”

He light-speed stepped his way towards the courtyard.

“If they find you with me, it’s fine, they’ve already sentenced me to exile... which, you know, execution, exile, what’s the difference at this point.” Marius was grinning, wildly unaware of his own words? How could he be so laid back about this? 

“Even if they sentence me to something worse, I can escape them. As you can see it’s actually very easy for me to escape things with this little trick. Again, don’t talk back, I know what you want to ask.”

This time, they were in a grassy area of the courtyard and there were twigs strewn about, so Marius carefully side-stepped them. “You want to ask me, how my arms aren’t tired when you’ve clearly gained some weight—ok! Ok! Haha, I won’t provoke you don’t pinch me so hard, ow, that’s going to bruise.” Marius laughed easily, as if he wasn’t currently making some kind of daring escape, as if this was just a a playful dance. As if there weren’t a bevy of guards and an entire council of monks, scholars and warriors, possibly a prince or two with aerial rings waiting in the wings... seriously what was this madness!

“This ability I have is simply a shadow veil, I’ve had it since I was in the jungles, it’s probably the only reason I survived. Is it part of the curse? I don’t know, I haven’t met someone else who can do it and I’ve never met anyone like you who is actively trying to figure out what I’m made of but—-hey! Wait! Don’t look so wronged, I’ve always wanted to share it with you, I know how important Kurian research is to you, but… I was having a lot of fun, and honestly I felt this would make you feel too uneasy, and you’re always so busy and never let me talk, I have my own grievances you know… just…” he cleared his throat, now making his way to the outer roads. A few guards were walking so he leaned against a stone wall for a bit to let them pass.

“That woman, she also had the ability to do this, and it’s not the first time I’ve met someone like her. Other… Kurians. There’s a lot I’ve wanted to talk to you about for some time now.”

“Then why didn’t you—!”

“Shh!”

“Explain yourself right now do not forget your place in my--!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

The guards were walking right past them and heard a strange muffled sound. They turned towards the wall but saw nothing. They circled the area, looking for a source but couldn’t for the life of them make out what they heard. The tall grass was swaying in the wind and created a shuffle like sound, the leaves rustled, and an errant rock or two moved as they stepped on the grounds. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet something felt out of place. The wind itself felt a little warmer, and the space felt a little dense, and there was a strange darkness near the wall, but with the canopy of leaves nearby it was hard to tell if it was just a trick of the light.

For a minute, they thought they heard a distressed breath.

Impossible. Was there a ghost?

Was this a haunting.

They kept on their way but made a note to come check later at night, when ghouls usually roamed in their original shapes and could be approached and questioned.

Arnalt bit Marius’s lip and that warm abrasive presence finally separated a few inches.

“Ow! You’re ferocious aren’t you? It’s your own fault, my hands are busy and I told you to be quiet.”

Arnalt couldn’t even conceive what had just happened. His face was on fire. Actual fire. His cells burned. His lashes burned. One moment he was being told wildly important information that had been withheld, his blood practically boiling, and the next moment a pair of warm soft lips had descended over him and silenced him sweetly. The softest melting touch, covering him like a warm candy-apple, the pressure of a soft toffee wrapped in the most delicate and translucent rice paper, a sensation so sudden and so smooth it shot straight to his lower abdomen as an arrow dripping with honey, gathering into a pool of sticky sweetness that made his body feel slow, heavy, and malleable. Marius’s hands firmly gripped him in place, pressing them together and slowly tightening as if possessed. As if... possessive. The action twisted Arnalt’s mind into a knot, his entire soul crackling like a recently lit ember. 

It was chaste, but it wasn’t brief, and the sustained contact made his skin practically vibrate. The guards walking around them were a kind of torture. Even when it stopped, that sensation left an echo of skin, like a film of liquor or the brush of a petal. He was sure his very pores were about to bleed. He couldn’t even summon his words, eyes so wide they felt like thick coins: Indecent! Shameless! Beast! Brute! Indecorous wanton CHILD!

There weren’t enough insults in the world to fling at that young man who suddenly, very boldly, licked his lips and timidly peeked at him from beneath a thick curtain of lashes, a fine blush painting his exquisitely carved face. 

Arnalt’s ability to speak quickly drowned in the hot spring of his brain, a hissing sound popping between his ears, like a kettle with tea at the ready. He wanted to serve it to himself and choke on it to death. 

Marius didn’t say anything more and resumed his walk, not the slightest sign of fatigue showing on his shoulders from carrying Arnalt all this way, but when he spoke, his voice was a few decibels lower, even slightly hoarse. “Let’s leave first and then I’ll tell you everything. There’s a carriage waiting.”

It didn’t take long to arrive at this carriage, which was hidden between mounds of hay and a thicket of leafy trees. Marius hopped on the back, using his shoulders to move the curtain aside. With Arnalt still tightly secured in his arms, he then gently, as if setting down an exquisite treasure, placed him on one of the cushioned seats.

He checked his temperature.

“You’re burning up.” His brows furrowed.

“I am quite fine!” Arnalt snapped, his voice much louder than he intended.

“Alright, alright, if you say so, but we’ll stop as soon as we can and I’ll sneak in somewhere and get you a nice cool drink alright?”

Arnalt’s shoulder was injured, his legs were numb, he was dizzy, his spirit had taken more shock than he could handle in the span of a few short hours, and he was tired from days with lack of sleep, vexed… but he was a Prince of Aegeria, the Eagle of Azuria, and like a bird circling a nest of fat rats after starving for days, all the anxiety gathering between his eyes, the restraint, the concern, and the plethora of unfathomable emotions he’d been carrying since Marius’s sentencing, all of it fused into a single target. A pair of claws had finally sensed blood. His hand, purchasing an opening, quickly descended towards its intended prey.

Pah!

A solid, brutal slap landed on Marius’s face.

[prince-everhard]

No 6. PLEASE…. “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

Title: Like Dogs Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Tabris, Shianni, Soris, Nelaros Rating: M Warning(s): implied/offscreen rape, violence against women, blood Wordcount: 1640 Summary: It was supposed to be a good thing, getting married. It wasn’t. [this is really just a love letter to the origin that fucking shooketh me]

cross-posted to ao3 [eventually] @whumptober2020

Natalia woke on the stone floor of some unfamiliar place. Shianni was immediately beside her, firm hands helping her sit up. “Oh, thank the Maker,” she said softly, embracing her cousin. “When you didn’t come to… I was so worried.”

Natalia glanced around. It seemed like all the women at today’s wedding- her own wedding- were there. Even the Chantry sister was huddled in a corner, muttering prayers under her breath and crying. “Is everyone alright?” 

“We’re scared but unharmed,” Valora answered. She looked down for just a moment. “So far.” When she looked up, her eyes held a surprising amount of fire in them. Maybe Soris’ drowned mouse wasn’t so hopeless after all. “They locked us in here until that bastard is… ‘ready’ for us.”

Natalia swallowed down the trickle of fear that would be a torrent if she allowed it. She thought of her mother instead, and felt along her boot to see if the shems had taken her knife. They hadn’t, and she drew it with a grin that bordered on feral. “We’ll kill anyone who walks through that door.”

“No, we can’t!” One of the other girls- Natalia couldn’t remember her name, but she was Valora’s bridesmaid- looked like she might burst into tears. “We should just let them do what they want, go home, and forget any of this happened. It’ll be worse for us if we fight.”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t.” Shianni met Natalia’s eyes with a grim determination. She hadn’t forgotten her aunt any more than Natalia had. 

Valora jerked her head toward the door. “Someone’s coming!”

All the women watched with trepidation as the sound of armored footsteps drew closer. Natalia hid her knife behind her back. The door swung open, and no fewer than six armored humans walked in, their swords drawn. “Hello, wenches. We’re your escorts to Lord Vaughan’s little party.”

The chantry sister stood, stepping in between the soldiers and the women. “You’ll not touch these girls, Maker damn you!”

The soldier who had spoken snorted and slashed through the sister like it was nothing. Her body hit the floor with a wet thump.

“You killed her!”

His smirk was disgusting. Natalia wanted nothing more than to cut it off his slimy face. “I guess that’s what happens when you try teaching whores some respect.” He glanced back at two of the soldiers behind him. “Now, you grab the little flower cowering in the corner. Horace and I’ll take the homely bride and the drunk. You two, bind the last one.” His eyes met Natalia’s and she scowled. “She’s the scrapper.”

It happened so quickly that there was no time to react. Two of them grabbed Valora’s bridesmaid, Horace grabbed Valora, and the speaker grabbed Shianni. They were nearly dragged from the room while the remaining two marched toward Natalia, pinning her against the back wall. “Don’t worry, we’ll be perfect gentlemen,” said the one with a hideous mustache, waggling his sword.

“Right,” said the other. “Be a good little wench or you’ll end up like the sister, there.”

Natalia bared her teeth at them. “Try it and see what parts you lose first!” 

The mustached man laughed. “Davies was right. She is a scrapper!”

Natalia wasted no time, darting forward and driving her knife into the gap in the other man’s armor, slipping right between his ribs. He let out a gasp and dropped to his knees, ripping the knife away and causing the wound to bleed profusely.

“You bitch!” The mustached man swung wildly at her, his eyes wide. Natalia ducked under it and came up directly in front of him. It was so, so easy to slash the knife across his throat. His sword clattered to the ground and he fell seconds later.

The man she’d stabbed was attempting to get up, his blood trickling freely through his fingers clamped over the wound. She kicked him over and picked up his friend’s sword to drive straight through his neck.

“Natalia!” She swung around, dagger held before her, but it was just her cousin Soris. His eyes went wide at the sight of her and she looked down. Her front was splattered with the mustached man’s slit throat. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

She shook her head. “The others. They took the others to Vaughan.”

Soris’ face went paler. “We’ll have to hurry, then. Nelaros is guarding the hall for us.”

Nelaros wasn’t guarding the end of the hall for them. His corpse, however, laid just outside the door. Natalia felt an odd numbness steal over her as she knelt by his body. She’d only just met him, sure, but she’d been expecting to have the rest of their lives together getting to know him. Now, she didn’t even have that. His hand was tightly clenched around something. After a few seconds of working his fingers open, a ring- her wedding ring- fell out and into her palm.

“Oh, Nat…” 

She didn’t respond to Soris’ soft words or his hand on her shoulder. She reached down and closed Nelaros’ eyes. As she stood, she slipped the ring onto her finger.

They would pay.

They burst into the kitchen. The cook had no more than taken two steps, already yelling about bandits and dirty knife-ears, when Natalia simply stepped forward and slit his throat. Soris stared at her as she turned toward the other elf in the room- likely just an assistant. “Run,” was all she said.

He did.

The next room had a handful of guards playing cards together. One turned and started barking drink orders at them. She drew his own sword from his scabbard and slammed him down onto its point before anyone could react. The other two jumped up and moved toward them. Natalia threw her knife at the closest one; it sank into his chest and he stumbled backward a step before falling over. She drew the first’s sword and advanced on the last man. He looked cautious, not willing to move closer to the blood-soaked, silent elf. She lunged forward, right over the tabletop, and slashed at his sword-arm. He yelped and dropped his weapon, and when he moved for it she slashed at his throat.

Soria followed in silence as she knelt by the man on the floor. He grasped weakly at her knife, trying to pull it out. Natalia did so for him and his face fell slack in seconds. She wiped her knife on his shirt and turned back toward Soris. 

He said nothing, following her toward the hall.

The next three in the hall were facing the other way and didn’t even stand a chance. Like a ghost, white wedding dress trailing behind her, Natalia sprinted up to them and cut their necks from behind. From behind the door they were watching, she could hear someone sobbing. 

She turned toward Soris and he looked at her like… like she was a stranger. “Wait here,” she said, voice rasping. Maybe it was exertion. Maybe it was unshed tears. Either way, he nodded his assent and turned his back toward her, guarding the hall.

She stepped through into an antechamber. To the left, the sobbing was louder. It was also familiar. Natalia knew without a doubt that it was Shianni. The numbness that had clung to her for so long fell away, eaten away in a flash of white-hot anger. She ran forward and threw the door open.

Vaughan and two of his friends stood in the room. Between them, lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, her body shaking with tears and her clothes in tatters, was Shianni. Vaughan’s grin grew monstrous as he turned toward the door. “My, my… what have w-”

Natalia lunged toward him and shoved the hilt of her knife into his throat. His face spasmed as his words and his airflow were cut off. He dropped to his knees. Natalia stepped around him to cut the throat of one of the other humans before either could react to her presence. The last one drew a knife of his own. She turned toward him. The blood from the last human’s throat had splattered on her cheek, and she wiped it carelessly with the sleeve of her dress.

“Wh- what do you want for my life?” The man’s hand trembled as he dropped the knife. He took a step backward. “Gold? I’ll give you gold. A house? I have houses, plenty, right here in Dene-” He took another step backward and tripped over the edge of the bed. Natalia stalked forward, snatching his knife off the floor. “Please, I’ll give you anything!”

Natalia took his knife and shoved it up under his ribs, right at his heart.

Vaughan looked up at her as she walked over to him. Whatever he wanted to say to her couldn’t come out; he wheezed around what she’d done to his throat. His eyes conveyed it all- how much he hated her, how little he thought of elves, how terrified he was to die. Natalia grinned at him, teeth bared and feral. An elf standing over him was the last thing he saw before she cut his throat.

Natalia knelt next to Shianni, hands gentle as she turned her cousin over. As soon as Shianni saw who it was her tears doubled. “Please, don’t- don’t leave me alone. Please. I… I just want to go home.” Natalia held her hand out for her cousin to help her up. “So much blood… it’s everywhere…” Shianni grabbed her hand like it was a rope in a storm and she were cast out to sea. Her grip was crushing. “You killed them, didn’t you? You killed them all.”

It was nothing to lay a hand over her cousin’s, to bend her head so that their foreheads touched. “Like dogs, Shianni.”

[hiddendreamer67]

The Sanders Games- Part 2 (Welcome to the Capitol)

(Find a link to previous parts in my reblog. Also, it looks like according to the poll updates to this story will be posted on Fridays!)

Summary: In the 75th Hunger Games, only one male* tribute is chosen from each of the twelve districts. Watch as they survive the opening ceremonies and head to the first day of training.

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

Deceit idly flicked through the channels on the screen, watching the recordings of the other reapings throughout the nation. He wanted to get a read on his opponents, scope out the competition before meeting them in person.

“Oh, good lord.” Deceit groaned, stopping to watch the reaping of District 1 where the princely figure flaunted in front of the crowd. “Did he really just declare himself the victor? What an arrogant capital lapdog.” Clearly just another poser from the luxury district who cared more about how his weapon made him look than how to hold it properly.

The career from District 2 was not much better. A tall, muscular fellow that was the epitome of brawn over brains. Deceit merely rolled his eyes, unimpressed as the tribute tried to intimidate the audience. Could this tribute tear Deceit apart with his bare hands? Oh, absolutely. But Deceit would never let him get the chance.

The non-career districts were hardly worth watching. Most of them appeared as nothing more than little lambs, ripe for the slaughter. District 8, the youngest, was sure to gain sympathy votes, but would be picked off soon enough. District 7 had some muscle on his bones, but no more than District 2. The tribute from the coal mines honestly looked like some sort of feral rat, more equivalent to vermin than a worthy opponent.

No, the only one who truly caught Deceit’s attention was the boy from district 3. Logan Ward, the glasses-clad fellow who had volunteered. Why had he volunteered? Was it to spare a friend’s life? But no, Logan hardly acknowledged the original individual who was chosen as he walked up onto the steps.

Deceit rewound the tape, watching again to analyze his every move. At first glance Logan appeared not to be out of the ordinary, but something about him gave Deceit pause. Underestimating an opponent was the deadliest mistake in the games, and the gleam in Logan’s eye made Deceit wonder if his victory would not be as easily won as he thought. This was going to be more than just a battle royale; this was chess, and Deceit had never lost a match.

“We’re nearing the capital.” His male mentor informed him, glancing out the window. The female mentor from District 4 was there as well, looking quite irate at the lack of female tributes. Still, both mentors seemed competent enough, in their own way. Deceit found himself wondering which underhanded strategy they had used to gain their titles of victor. After all, no one came out of the games with a clean conscious. Thankfully Deceit wasn’t going into the games with one, either.

“You’ll need to establish your rank quickly.” The female mentor spoke up. “The career pack is vital, but district four is often underestimated. If you falter, you’ll quickly be tossed aside.”

Every year the career districts were known to form a pack, and use their superior skill sets to wipe out the competition before inevitably turning on each other. Deceit intended to keep to this tradition, as he had no problems stabbing a career in the back when it came down to the final days. In fact, Deceit reveled in the idea, knowing it would make good coverage in the eyes of a gamekeeper.

“I can handle myself.” Deceit assured her, sitting up straight. Deceit had learned quickly that, lacking muscle of his own, manipulation was his key to success. It would only be a matter of hours before Deceit had every tribute wrapped around his little finger.

He gazed out the window, watching the gleaming city coming rapidly into view. The glittering skyscrapers were probably meant to bestow a feeling of awe and nationalism, but Deceit merely found the architecture distasteful.

“First we’ll be heading to meet your stylist.” The male mentor glanced at the itinerary. “You’ll need to be prepped for the opening ceremonies.”

Deceit nearly groaned at the reminder, having almost forgotten all the pageantry associated with being a tribute. The ceremonies, the training, the interviews… all of it was so bland. Deceit knew how to weasel his way through a conversation, but the trivial minds of the Capital merely bored him. No matter, Deceit would just have to grin and bear whatever ridiculous contraption his stylist found fitting for his district. The games would be here soon enough.

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

“Oooh, yes, you’ll do nicely.” The stylist circled Magenta, looking over his various features. “You’ve got a young face, but decent bone structure. You might even stand a chance.”

Magenta stood perfectly still, his eyes following the stylist. He felt as though he was being encircled by sharks. What sort of getup would they throw him in before waltzing him around onstage? District 8 was famous for having ridiculous outfits, a nod to the textile industry. Magenta had seen older tributes look more like a pile of quilts than a stone blooded killer.

“Now now, don’t look so timid!” The stylist laughed, putting his hand beneath Magenta’s chin so the twelve-year-old was forced to meet his gaze. “I’ve spent plenty of time in the capitol, I know what makes those crowds go nuts. We’re going to doll you up, make you look fabulous.”

“You’re going to make me into a prop.” Magenta corrected.

“It’s better to be a prop than a corpse.” The stylist reminded him, causing him to shudder. “I’m here to help you, kid. Sponsorships make the victor. You need to stand out in the crowd or none of the viewers will care about you.”

“And how do I do that?” Magenta asked, rubbing at his chin as it was finally released. “Act small and meek? Try not to look like prey?”

“Please, that’s been there, done that.” The stylist scoffed. “Booooo-ring. No, you need a name for yourself, a brand if you will. It’s right there in your name: Magenta. We’ll capitalize on it. From now on, everything from the tips of your shoes to the tips of your hair will be in that magnificent hue.”

“…great.” Magenta winced. He was going to die as a crayon.

It ended up looking just as ridiculous as he thought. While the stylists cooed over him in the mirror, Magenta could only grimace. He didn’t recognize himself at all. They had put some sort of Botox in his cheeks to make them more visible, and now Magenta hesitantly touched at it, trying to find something familiar in his reflection.

The other tributes seemed to find his new regalia just as humorous, all pointing and snickering behind his back. Some even gave him looks of pity. Of course, as soon as his chariot rounded the gates, he soon realized his stylist might have been right. The crowd went wild, all screaming with glee at his new hair color.

“He’s so cute!” “Look at his hair!” “HA- Magenta, that’s marvelous!”

Magenta grinned, basking in the glory. He put his hands to his mouth, blowing kisses at the ones who made the comments. The women nearly fainted, fanning their faces. It seemed out here Magenta was not out of place, as several of the citizens liked to embellish themselves in ridiculous hues. They got a kick out of Magenta’s outfit, seeing it as a nod to their rainbow culture.

“Ooooh, looks like someone’s a crowd favorite!” The announcer’s voice echoed through the bleachers.

Magenta stood taller, giving a dazzling smile. Perhaps he stood a chance in these games after all, if so many people were cheering his name. He could feel several of the more handsome tributes glaring daggers into his back, but Magenta knew that his focus had to be on entertaining his newfound fans.

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

Patton walked into the first day of training, taking a deep breath. It felt a bit like the first day of school, but with more murderous intent. He tried to smile and wave at the other tributes, but many of them either scowled or cowered.

Okay...so much for killing them with kindness.

Patton liked to believe everyone was a good person. When he looked out on the wave of faces, he didn’t see murderers; he just saw a bunch of scared little kids, just like him. Even the careers had to have mercy somewhere in their hearts, even if it was deeply, deeply buried.

It really wasn’t any of the tributes fault, though. Whatever happened in the games, Patton couldn’t blame someone for just doing what it took to try to get home. He knew if he died and came back as a ghost he wouldn’t haunt them, either.

But Patton, unlike many of the poorer district tributes, hadn’t accepted the fact that he was going to die yet. He didn’t want to think about that possibility, of one of these kids skewering him like a kabob. Patton wanted to survive, but he also didn’t want to kill anybody, so his only hope was surviving until his peers died of natural causes, which wasn’t a very nice thing to hope for at all so Patton tried not to think about that either.

Instead, Patton thought about knots. He focused at his station, tying knot after knot and feeling his stomach twisting in much the same way. The loneliness was really the worst part. With a friend, maybe this would be bearable.

“Other way.”

“Huh?” Patton looked up, having heard the kid next to him speak. The kid shrunk back a bit but pointed at Patton’s rope.

“You’re twisting it the wrong way.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” Patton gave him a large grin, fixing his rope.

The boy blushed. “Yeah, no problem.”

“What’s your name? My name’s Patton.” Patton set down his rope, sticking out his hand.

“I’m Emile.” Emile shook it tentatively. “You’re the boy from eleven, right?”

“Yup! And you’re ten?” Patton guessed, getting a nod in response. “Hey, that’s awesome! We’re like the food district twins.”

“I mean, I guess so.” Emile shrugged.

“Do you like food?” Patton asked earnestly.

Emile gave him a strange look. “...yes?”

“That’s great!” Patton cheered. “I love food! We have so much in common.” Emile chuckled at his silly enthusiasm, and Patton knew his strategy was working. “Say, if we both love food so much, maybe we should eat lunch together. What do ya say?”

“...works for me.” Emile agreed. Internally, Patton was throwing a party, pleased to have made his first Ally. With any luck, Emile would be far from the last.

Taglist: @revalisidepiece, @why-should-i-tell-youu2,

[tessatechaitea]

Review of The Twilight Zone, S1, E9, "To Be or Not To Be"

In this episode, "Perchance to Dream," a man barges into a psychiatrist's office, lies down, and dies. That's it! That's everything that happens! At least to the people who are not Edward Hall, the man who dies. He manages to have a minor Jacob's Ladder episode before he dies. Or, more aptly I should say he has "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" moment. The majority of the episode is just the man's last dream before he dies from "a romantic heart." I think that means syphilis. I would love to say this fits perfectly in the "Rod Serling just made a list of ideas to turn into stories" theory that I mentioned in an earlier review except this is the first episode that wasn't either an original work by Rod Serling or a teleplay by Rod Serling from another person's story. This story was written by Charles Beaumont who is not the actor who played Beaver's dad. That was Hugh! But this story idea is so simple I could see Rod jotting down "dying in your sleep ain't as cool as people seem to think it is" for his list of The Twilight Zone story ideas. Stupid reality not making my theory perfect. I really enjoyed this episode because there was a sexy lady in it named Maya the Cat Lady. She even does a 1959 striptease which isn't as sexy as a 1960 striptease although they're probably pretty close. I don't think stripteases got really sexy until around 1973. I mean stripteases put to film for mass consumption! Real stripteases in 1959 were probably disgusting and humiliating and ended with loads of semen stained Dacron or wool flannel pants. Edward Hall, the main character, explains to the psychiatrist what's been happening to him and why he won't let himself fall asleep. Remember though, that explanation is just given in the dream before he dies. We never really know the real reason why he went to see this psychiatrist! Sure, Edward explains it in the dream but why should the audience take dream Edward at his word? If he were speaking the truth about how his dreams continue a linear story from night to night then this dream is an aberration that disproves his theory! His next dream is supposed to be jumping from a roller coaster but instead he jumps from the window of a skyscraper. Anyway, Edward explains that if he goes to sleep, he knows he'll die because the dream story is getting really scary and less sexy than when it started. And since his dreams keep telling the same story, the next chapter was going to be so scary that his "romantic heart" couldn't take the strain. Of course, staying up for four days straight is also putting a strain on his heart so, basically, he's a dead man either way. Or is he? Did he die in the psychiatrist's office because he strained his heart by staying awake for four days even though he probably would have been fine if he just got some fucking sleep? Who knows?! We don't even really know if he'd been awake for four days straight when he entered the office because that was just information from Dream Edward! Maybe he just had really bad gas pains when we see him stumbling into the office at the beginning of the episode. I love the conceit of this episode because I've thought about this for decades. People always seem consoled by the idea of peacefully dying in their sleep. But I've always thought, "Have you forgotten about dreams?! I bet the dream you have when you die in your sleep is fucking terrifying!" Apparently Charles Beaumont thought so too! Fifteen years ago, I worked at a place called Academic Book Center. We had a new employee named Kara Zander whom I was training. She was working out really well (which was the opposite of what usually happened with new hires there) until she suddenly didn't show up for work the day before Thanksgiving. My manager, who was mostly a selfish narcissist, was getting pretty upset (because, remember, most new employees turned out to suck and suddenly it seemed maybe Kara sucked (spoiler: she didn't. She was just dead)). And then, suddenly, my manager was super fucking upset because she found out Kara had died overnight from carbon monoxide poisoning. Mostly she was upset that she was being such a fucking jerk judging Kara and then realized she was judging a poor dead woman who never gave my manager any reason to suspect she wasn't anything but a bright and caring and upbeat and competent employee. Right up until she died and didn't phone in to tell my manager, "Hey! I'm dead! Won't be coming in today!" Fucking Barb. I mean, fucking anonymous Academic Book Center manager! Being that I've always had this thought in my head about how fucking terrifying dying in your sleep probably actually is, I couldn't get Kara out of my head. People said the comforting things about her death and how she probably drifted off and I held my tongue because nobody wants to hear somebody, at that moment, say, "Can you imagine what it must have been like? As the carbon monoxide filled her system, she probably began dreaming she was drowning, unable to breathe. Gasping and struggling to claw her way back to the surface but sinking ever downward, choking with fear. Until finally, just as she was thinking, 'It's all a dream! It must be a dream! I'll wake up any second now!', she simply winked out of existence." Then, jaws agape and tears frozen on their faces, half of the people I'd just spoken to would wander off to kill themselves while the others simply began their new hobby of cutting. Since Thanksgiving was yesterday, and I watched this episode a few days before that, I suppose I couldn't help but think of Kara. I quit the job fairly soon after that, partly because the whole incident just made me lose any lasting respect I had of my manager (which wasn't much seeing as how she treated some of her work "friends" so shittily while at work and also because she cried during one of my performance reviews because I wasn't "being her friend" and then denied me a raise. I could have complained to HR but her sister was head of HR so why the fuck would I even bother?!) and partly because I couldn't stop thinking, "I don't want to fucking die at this job." Kara, at least, seemed to have an upbeat and joyous attitude about life (while also comforted by her religion), so she probably wouldn't have minded dying at that job. That sounds like I'm being critical but it's a compliment! I'm saying, "I'm a miserable and cynical beast who can't fucking cope with life or death or work," and Kara was somebody who seemed to look on the bright side of everything. Hell, maybe her dying dream was of her running joyously down a dark tunnel to the light of Jesus and his open arms! Man, maybe I need to suck it up and just force myself to believe in all that religious bullshit! Kara has a fancy grave with one of her journal entries carved into the back of her gravestone (I know this because I looked her up online and found her grave at FindaGrave.com which isn't morbid at all). The quote is this (and I promise not to make fun of it because she's being earnest and vulnerable and young and religious and I should be so lucky to be any of those things): "Knocking on doors before entering is always a smart thing to do. This is not just for the privacy of the owner of the room, but also for the person who wants to enter. What if someone was creating a surprise for another person and 'hid' in a room to prepare it, and the other one barged in? The surprise and fun would be ruined. God is preparing a room for me up in heaven. The door is shut now, but when it is time for my soul to move, I will knock and discover a glorious surprise beyond description. Lord, thank you for surprises and the fun associated with them. I am faithfully sure that yours will be awesome beyond words...like they always are. Amen." If there is a fucking God, fuck Him. Did you think he read this entry and chuckled and rubbed his hands together and muttered, "Oh, have I got an awesome beyond words surprise for you, Kara. Do I! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" God's maniacal laugh then rings throughout eternity, both ways, forever. What a prick.

[momestuck]

Epilogues: Meat ch 1-8 [Epilogue 1]

I’m eating so you get one more of these before I try to salvage a bit of work from today.

We’ve read through the whole of the ‘Candy’ branch of the story. It went places! Spoilers for it below.

Somehow Jane turned into a fascist dictator, Karkat became a heroic resistance leader, a whole lot of ships were made and broken, Dirk killed himself but somehow it was fake (???), John went through multiple existential crises and a failed marriage, Jade destroyed Dave and Karkat’s relationship but ultimately got with Dave, Gamzee was brought back to perform a ‘redemption arc’ and was generally awful but ultimately ended up getting sexually assaulted and then murdered by Vriska, let’s not forget that the cast had three entire fucking babies and one of them ran into her own namesake... and Obama was there. And that’s not even covering all of it...

But that was all in a universe that was ‘inconsequential’; it was in a bubble disconnected from ‘canon’, spread out on the event horizon.

Now we wind the clock back, and consider what happens if John chooses on that day to go forth, recruit a group of other selves from elsewhere in Paradox Space, and fight Lord English, as ‘canon’ dictates he eventually must...

Chapter 1

This one is in second person, and features narrative prompts, which was also true of the first chapter of Candy.

This time, John eats the meat in a really gross way, manages to not puke everywhere, says awkward goodbyes, writes a bunch of letters, and fucks off back into Canon(TM).

Not a lot to say about that! P much what we expected. Wonder where he’s gonna end up?

Chapter 2

I pretty much expected them to dive straight into Canon, but no, in fact similar plots as the first one seem to be abrew. We meet Dave and Karkat - no Jade here, this time - as Dave breaks the news of Jane’s presidential bid.

So, Dave proposes, Karkat should run against her. Which was a possibility floated in the other story... it does feel rather like, at this point, whatever V said, I might have read them in the wrong order.

Dave brings up Obama as a reason he’d want to see a good president - Obama who, in Dave’s timeline, got killed by meteors before he could ‘fix the economy’. Which I guess makes his appearance in the other branch a little less of a non-sequitur, though still fucking weird don’t get me wrong!

DAVE: or maybe not... maybe there was like an escape hatch in the white house that led to his own secret presidential session of sburb

DAVE: what if hes just chillin there now

KARKAT: DAVE, I THINK WE’VE COVERED YOUR “OBAMA’S SECRET SESSION OF SBURB” THEORY WELL ENOUGH ALREADY.

So the Obama chapter was all payoff for a very long term brick joke? This is not the revelation I expected to be having in Meat.

Anyway, Dave basically explains how scary it is to have the human government in charge of troll reproduction, echoing Karkat’s words back at him. Apparently the way the whole weird eugenic system got put in place was that, before Kanaya arrived with the Mother Grub, the government reproduced trolls exclusively ectobiologically.

The other issue is... The Economy. We get a little note that, indeed, this is an alchemy-based post-scarcity economy:

DAVE: ok if shit goes sideways i guess we arent gonna see like raggedy turtles and pauper chess men standing in bread lines or anything

DAVE: thats just the nature of alchemy-based post-scarcity economies the depressions tend to be pretty mild

DAVE: but it will still be bad

DAVE: a healthy economy is fuckin IMPORTANT

DAVE: if for no other reason than it protects the societal context for what it means to be fucking rich, like us

So uh what do they spend money on... I guess there’s services, those can’t be alchemised (except for the fact that ludicrously advanced robotics exists?). someone actually has to work the alchemizer...

Anyway most of this chapter is... electoral strategy.

DAVE: consorts overwhelm the other kingdoms in sheer numbers but due to unscrupulous gerrymandering, all kinds of fucked up voter suppression policies and some electoral “counterbalancing” measures to account for their ridiculous population growth rate their voting power per capita is kind of pathetic

DAVE: also its hard to drive turnout

DAVE: this may come as a shock but legions of easily distracted low information amphibians primarily concerned with eating bugs and farming god damned mushrooms arent the most politically motivated demographic

The chapter ends with Dirk calling Dave... to... cut off his head. Yeah. That joke again.

OK, this sure is a direction. Welcome to Homestuck Electoralism Edition I guess. They probably won’t have quite as many kids?

Chapter 3

John apparently has a specific list of retcon interventions, apopros of Rose. The first is to appear on the battleship during the three year journey in the non-canon, pre-retcon timeline, open a fridge containing Aradia and Gamzee (god I’ve forgotten so much), and take the ring that Aradia is holding (which ring is that again?). Then, John decides to shove Gamzee back in the fridge.

> Do everyone a favor and put an end to his preposterous narrative relevance.

You wisely decide that this clown will lend nothing valuable to the narrative whatsoever if he is allowed to remain outside of your childhood refrigerator. You put both hands on his chest and shove him into the fridge where he belongs. He goes easily, issuing only a pair of weak honks in protest. You slam the fridge shut and resolve to never think about Gamzee Makara again.

So... we’re going with that, huh.

I’ve said enough about the Gamzee Issue already perhaps. But I guess I thought they were going to do more than to bring Gamzee back mostly to mock the idea of ‘redemption arcs’, and ‘punish’ him some more for being a bad character.

Chapter 4

John interrupts two other retcon-Johns, one trying to cancel out the other, a Dave, and a grimbark Jade during some of the shit that happened when Jade got mind controlled or whatever... it’s been a long time...

Dave’s the first recruit, along with Jade. John gives him a rather half-assed explanation about why, after several years of ‘boring adult lives’, they need to go and fight Lord English now.

Chapter 5

Back to the real story: Dave and Karkat’s electoral bid.

Dirk has apparently been... playing the heel in televised rap battles to Jake’s face so that Jake’s endorsement of Jane’s political candidacy would be more effective. Yeah.

Also he disagrees with Dave on fiscal policy. The cad.

He has a rather weird conversation of alternately discouraging and encouraging Dave and Karkat’s opposition. Then, to round out the chapter, V and Cephied deliver... an entire stanza of Jake’s rap. Oh boy.

At the end, Dirk... tranquilizes Jake (????????) to take another call from Rose.

This is the ‘real’, ‘canon’ storyline now? Oh Homestuck.

Chapter 6

John’s assembled a group of god tier kids in his back garden. The alpha and beta kids are present, but there are no trolls.

There’s a rather uncomfortable moment (for the reader, as well as John) when young Roxy hits on adult John.

You weren’t prepared to get passively hit on by the Definitely Not Legal version of a girl you used to have a crush on at the age she was when you first met her, only a few hours after you watched the Actually Legal version of her engage in passionate hand-holding with her possibly aromantic skeleton alien monster girlfriend.

‘Legal’, really!

Anyway, John feels rather strained watching this rather rushed rehash of the reunion scenes from the original comic. He wonders about the ethics of all this...

You wonder. Do you see these teen versions of your friends as “real”? Are you treating them, at Rose’s behest, as simple puppets? Doing your part to insist they fill friend-shaped recesses in an essential plan to stabilize all else that can be considered important, a distinction no longer applying to them? Do you care at all about whatever fate it may be that you are sentencing these children to? Are you becoming as complicit in the fatalistic evils of Paradox Space as Lord English himself? Are you becoming a monster, John Egbert?

foooof i mean he’s not wrong! let’s call them the ‘child soldiers’ from here on out...

Chapter 7

Time to catch up with Rose. We finally learn what’s wrong with her: she’s ‘ascending’, taking on the full burden of the ‘ultimate self’.

The same is also happening to Dirk, but he is somehow more resilient to it. So that’s what Obama did to Dave, huh.

Also this puts the prompt ‘Dirk: Ascend’ before his suicide in a rather different light.

The pieces are thus falling into place: this is why Dirk was building a Rosebot. Quite possibly the Dirk and Rose who were flying away from Earth C in the Candy timeline actually entered it out of this timeline, which would explain how Dirk was alive.

Chapter 8

Time to see the full events of Caliborn’s ‘Masterpiece’.

This is all Caliborn dropping an extremely corny buildup:

CALIBORN: BUT NOW. THE TIME HAS COME.

CALIBORN: FOR EVERYONE TO SHUT UP ABOUT HOW GREAT MY MASTERPIECE WAS.

CALIBORN: AND THE TIME IS NOW AT HAND...

His laughter turns into a low, cracked gurgle. It spikes towards you in waves, distorts and pitches low. He is beyond pleased with himself, and with the line he is about to deliver.

CALIBORN: FOR YOU ALL TO *BECOME* MY MASTERPIECE!

We need more organs to give that the proper level of scare chord...

End of Epilogue 1

Well that explained at least some of the wild horseshit we experienced in Candy, I guess.

So somehow this is all according to keikaku, which is to say Dirk’s design - he fancies himself as an engineer, putting each piece in its proper place. Rose isn’t entirely in on it, but she will be. We still don’t know why Dirk’s doing this, why he needs Jane to be president, why he’s ultimately going to need a new SBurb session...

As for themes and stuff... this just felt like ‘setting the board’. Rather hastily, even though it’s a full eight chapters. Compared to the emotional heft of some of the stuff that happened in Candy, anyway... this is all plot.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Bubbles The Blue”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written and Storyboarded by: Caitlin Vanarsdale, Angela Zhang

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

No Eiffel 65 jokes here. Or Lord of the Rings.

This episode deals with a serious topic. While I had this interpretation since I first watched this episode, one of the head writers outright said it on their Twitter.

But anyway, here's a dolphin running into a wall. It is not that indicative of the rest of the episode.

Blossom: (with no sarcasm) Dolphins are sooo smart!

The joke is that animals are stupid. Buttercup gets into an argument with Blossom over whether or not dolphins can speak Spanish. Blossom and Buttercup decide to go to the animal expert: Bubbles. This may be a reference to Bubbles' ability to talk to animals, which I can appreciate. Also forgotten: this scene.

Just like the title says, Bubbles is blue. Not just in a "crying a lot" kind of way, but in a "lying in bed, circles under eyes, permanent frown" kind of way. Buttercup makes the assumption that she must be having a staring contest with the ceiling, but Bubbles corrects her and says that she's just sad today. The very thought of any emotion that isn't considered "bubbly" makes them shocked.

As in, "make another silly face inspired by those silly storyboards" shocked. At this point, it's just the show's style to have these faces. It does give PPG 2016 a style not a lot of cartoons have, but I would say there is a reason for that. They ask Bubbles various questions to why she's so sad. Is she tired? No. Is she bored? No. Is she hungry? No.

To be more specific, Buttercup pulls out a living chicken and a blowtorch. See, since Bubbles is too busy moping throughout the entirety of this episode, Buttercup gets to take over the job of doing the "so random" jokes. I didn't think this one was that bad, but I prefer the line that comes right after this.

Blossom: Are you sad because you keep thinking about your place in society, as the eyes of everyone looking to you for guidance begins to weigh heavily on your young soul, only to realize you were just one of the many leaves bending to the will of the wind in a never-ending race with the cruel mistress that is time, an illusionistic prison created by man, shackling us all to the dream we call life?

If you needed a signature quote for some social media site that still uses them, here's the best attempt at one I've seen out of this show. Bubbles just answers no to this, while Buttercup's jaw is dropped. One of the few subtle jokes with Buttercup, as I can now appreciate. Eventually, they get scared. Not because Bubbles has a serious medical condition I did not think this show was capable of portraying...

...but because the Professor randomly pops up out of nowhere. He's here to show off his "soundless slippers". The episode grinds to a halt so they can show an informerical. Does it have anything to do with the plot? Will it actually amount to anything? Is it even funny? Much like the Powerpuff Girls' questions, the answer is no.

Before the Professor can contribute to the actual plot, the hotline-cellphone rings. I am glad to say this season uses the cellphone often enough that I can count episodes that actually use it on two hands rather than one.

We cut to what should have been the opening scene for this episode: a giant armadillo having anger issues threatening Townsville. This comes complete with helicopters trying to stop him; I'm actually kind of surprised Townsville even bothers with funding for that. Well, maybe they have some reason now considering the Powerpuff Girls' success rate with monster punches, but still. Blossom and Buttercup show up to give him the old punch that needs to be covered up with a hit flash. The Harmadillo rolls up into a ball, and they get an idea seemingly pulled straight out of the original.

They then play catch with the rolled up armadillo. The original would have had them use a telephone pole and a baseball mitt sign, which would be more creative, but they have aura powers now. Buttercup uses a baseball bat aura, because you can use that as a weapon. Blossom uses a pillow aura, because they still have to stick with Blossom's theme of "things you can find at HomeGoods and/or Office Depot".

They call out to Bubbles to join in on the fun, but she’s still on the ground, still sad. Blossom and Buttercup wonder why she can still be not bubbly if Bubbles is her name, because how dare she have any other emotions! To be fair to them, this is no ordinary sadness, as we'll soon see.

We go into a musical segment, where Blossom and Buttercup try to woo that “sadness” with her favorite things. Blossom shows her Octi, a tea party, and other cute things…

...while Buttercup shows gross things like lint from a laundromat. I'll give them credit for the use of stock images this time; it enhances the contrast between the sensible items and the one from the new wacky girl.

This also plays into a theme with the episode. Both of them don't understand Bubbles' sadness, and try to use their own ways to try to "cure" it. What they do is not too far off from examples of what not to do when trying to help someone with depression. This doesn't seem out of character to me, because this could show their inexperience. I mean, they are just little kids, after all.

With the mindset of a little kid, their next assumption is that someone did this to her. Buttercup goes to Discount Jojo's place, and punches him right out of the shower. This scene reminds me that I could be watching Telephonies instead. Jojo does interrupt his lines to remind the viewer that while it's not his fault, he does think it would be a great idea. There's no foreshadowing here, it's just for the viewer to know that Jojo is still a villain, despite everything else.

Blossom also uses the idea that someone did this to Bubbles, but does it in a different way. She falls a little more into the example that these symptoms must be the result of something personal, which it is not.

Specifically, Blossom thinks it is her own fault as she gives her apology letter after apology letter, despite Bubbles outright telling her that she didn't do anything. This "I'm sorry for remaking the bed" one is the only one we actually see; either that one was the only idea they could think of, or they wasted all of their talent on the wacky Buttercup jokes.

Speaking of which, Buttercup then shows up with a happy ray gun. Thankfully, it doesn't work like the happy rays from the dancing lobsters from Painbow, it just puts a silly costume on whoever it shoots. Essentially, it's an attempt to try to hide the problem, and it doesn't work.

In an unrelated note, Blossom asks her where she got the ray gun in the first place, and we cutaway to a scene where Buttercup threatens Discount Jojo with a knuckle sandwich. This is far beyond "rascal" and more into "Him possession". In fact, how come Discount Jojo was the first villain they thought of when it comes to playing with people's emotions? It could have been Him, or Alle...yeah, maybe it was Jojo.

The Puffs in the wrong continue to ramble to Bubbles until they get interrupted by that running gag of the soundless slippers. We finally get to see the payoff to that, and it is just as great as the gag was.

Buttercup: (zaps the slippers) No.

Professor: Aww! My slippers!

Annoying thing happens constantly, Buttercup makes it go bye bye, joke over. It is better than nothing, which is how most of the running gags seem to end in this show, so at least I could give it that.

Blossom starts complaining to the Professor about her sad sister, and even pulls out the “she’s only doing this for attention” line. Unlike Buttercup's antics, Blossom's terrible reasoning of someone suffering from depression is realistic. Honestly, it shows that she is just as terrible as the new wacky girl when dealing with this. Who can possibly do something good with this?

Ultimately, it's the older and wiser that ends up being the voice of reason in this. This episode features a sadly rare occurence that the Professor actually acting like the respectful father figure he should be, being the voice of reason to his children. Even the soundless slippers gag plays into the "inventor" angle they have been, which is far closer to his character in the original than the "out of touch Sitcom Dad" I am far too familiar with.

Unfortunately, Blossom and Buttercup aren't there to witness this, as they are too busy with the Harmadillo again. Having been fed up about his constant whining, they decide that the best way to deal with him is to have Blossom tie him up in an aura net. Maybe it's a hammock, I don't know. They then make a combined aura of a stapler with a knife attached to the end. Considering we can't even show someone getting punched in this series unless its the girls getting punched, someone has to stop them.

It just so happens to be Bubbles, having her spirits slightly lifted from "not doing anything" by what is implied to be a speech from the father figure. Because the Harmadillo is having some emotional issues of his own, they are able to bond with each other. It may seem like this was a missed opportunity for the "talking to animals" power, but it would have done more harm than good.

Because Buttercup can't let a touching scene be, she starts to panic over the disease spreading. She then makes a chainsaw aura, persumably to cut both the armadillo and her own sister into little bits. I stand corrected: there is a worse way to deal with depression than telling them they're only doing it for attention. Blossom stops her, and tells her that maybe the real problem is that they decided not to listen to her. What an understatement.

This episode almost ends with this shot, which is a very good way to end an episode about feelings. It’s a quiet moment of them looking at the ocean. Before this episode, PPG 2016 seemingly had no clue on how to end an episode with a calm moment. Unfortunately, this episode does not disprove that.

Buttercup: I’m bored, what are we looking at?

(Blossom punches Buttercup into the water)

A deserved punishment, sure, but it was completely unnecessary. We can only hope the oceans also acts as holy water.

Does the title fit?

The title works as a pun; Bubbles happens to be the blue one, and she’s feeling blue.

How does it stack up?

I knew we were going to get some sort of "special episode" on a serious topic, and even the original can fail at such episodes. In the case of this episode, Bubbles The Blue actually handles the topic rather well, far better than I would ever expect out of this show.

There are problems that prevent this from being among the absolute least worst episodes; the episode had a tendency to repeat itself, the soundless slippers gag never amounted to anything, and Buttercup's antics are disturbing at worst and unnecessary at best.

Despite that, this episode goes in directions few reboot episodes do, and I have to commend it for that.

Next, I don't think Mary Poppins could fix this reboot's problems.

← Derby Dollies ☆ Deb O’Nair →

[padfootagain]

My favorite films are "The Shawshank redemption", "Casablanca", "12 angry men" and the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy (which I count as a 9 hour movie). Although it is fair to say that the common denominator between these movies is the general lack of female characters with agency (except for Eowyn and Ilsa during like the first half of the movie), to me the thing that they have in common is hope. (1/2)

All of those stories present an imperfect (sometimes straight up shitty) world, and all of those stories end with the message "it might be crap, but it can also be made better if we try". That's a message that's very important for me, one that even guides the way I live my life. What I'm trying to ask with this extremely long rant is: what are your favorite movies, what thing(s) do they have in common and what do you believe they say about you as a person? (2/2)

Hello anon!!! Thank you so much for stopping by!!!

I have to admit that I have not watched the shawshank redemption nor 12 angry men. I did watch Casablanca (a long time ago, like... I'd say 5 years ago) so my memories of it are a bit blur. I do remember that I didn't like it though 😅. I remember ending the movie with the thought 'okay, all this for just that'. But perhaps it's just because the movie was so hyped by critics and I was expecting something very different. I don't remember the ending being hopeful though... so if you'd like we can talk more about that.

Concerning LotR... well... I'll be answering your question now, cause this is my favourite movie (I also consider the three like just one very long movie 😅). I think it's also because I had a few rough years through high school and these movies (and books) helped me get through it, so I have a personal attachment to them. And the world building is just ***chef's kiss***. It's so complex... and I don't know if you've read the Silmarillon but the lore in this universe is just insane. Also, I love how layered the whole story is. Because you can indeed, as you said, see a message of hope, which is I reckon the main message with the idea that the world doesn't need one big hero to be saved but the quieter daily kindness of regular people. And I love that trope so much. But with a little bit of digging, it's actually quite easy to see other themes developed like ecology, ptsd and trauma, industrialisation, feminism, and all in all a critic of warfare, that most people don't really spot at the first watch or in the first read.

My love for tolkien's work is endless, and... I mean... I did learn English just to be able to watch the movies in their original language and read the books in Tolkien's tongue so... yeah, I love these so much and no movie or book will ever top them for me 😅

There are many other movies that I adore, but lotr is just... so much above everything else, it wouldn't be fair to add any other to this answer 😂 I think it tells that... I like complex stories and I have a wide imagination. I also like my happy ending. And all the movies I really love have that in common. I don't like sad endings. Of all the movies I like most, lotr probably has the saddest one, when it's still a happy ending, when you think about it. Frodo finds his peace by leaving. The rest of the Fellowship, at the bitter exception of Boromir, are all alive and well and live to have long and happy lives. I firmly believe that if this story had been written today, many of the characters we follow in the book would have died. Because it seems trendy almost, these days, to end a story bitterly, or to kill the lead character's best friend because 'it makes it more realistic'. But Tolkien didn't write it like that, because he believed in happy endings. I've forgotten the term he invented for the idea that after hitting rock-bottom, a story should always show that there is a brighter future ahead.

We have a similar message in the end, anon. We both want the stories that will give us hope. I often much prefer to watch a movie that will show me that the world can be better than it is rather than the opposite.

[awkwardshanandagins]

Well, shit, there goes my vision...

One step forward and two steps back.  If you were to ask me to sum up my fertility journey in one sentence, that’s what how I would describe it.  At least

up until this point.  Every time we take a step in the right direction, the universe shoves me backwards.  This past week it feels more like 300 steps backwards.

In May of this year, I had my second laparoscopy on my baby maker.  I also had a procedure done called “ovarian drilling.” Sounds terrible, right?  I figured while they were in there they might as well fuck shit up as much as possible.  No but really, it’s about as bad it sounds.   It’s a procedure in which they burn little holes into your ovaries.   From what our fertility doc told us, this isn’t a commonly used practice but has been shown to help lower testosterone production and help with fertility but only temporarily.  My understanding from the little bit I read about it is that us ladies with PCOS develop a hard outer shell around our ovaries in which burning the holes helps break that up.   Somehow that hard outer shell makes it even more difficult for women with PCOS to get pregnant.  Don’t quote me on this, I’m not a doctor, obviously.  Well hopefully my hard outer shell is nice and shattered.   I’ll stop using that term now, it’s only making me think of those little easter egg candies that are solid chocolate and have the hard outer shell.  My favorite!!!  Anyways, not the point.

Now that I’ve probably turned you off those easter egg candies forever, or at least gave you the gift of envisioning my ovaries while eating them, I’ll get back to my what I was saying.

Our plan was to have that surgery and attempt IUI, which is insemination (practically the turkey-baster method), once my doctor gave me the okay, unless we changed our minds to IVF which was quickly happening.  My OBGYN is a kind older gentleman who takes his sweet, sweet time doing absolutely everything but I deal with the slowness because he’s the only one I’ve found who listens.  As I’m sure so many already know, finding the right doctors is essential but usually super complicated.  He told me I’d be good to start trying IUI at six weeks out from surgery.  He suggested that once he “does his thing,” the fertility doc quickly start his part of this lovely process.

Depending on who you talk to you’ll get different information on whether laparoscopy actually improves fertility.  My OBGYN is certain it will help my chances while my fertility doctor said it will have absolutely no effect whatsoever.  My fertility doc actually suggested I don’t have the surgery at all and just go straight to IVF.  He said the only reason to get a laparoscopy these days is for pain.  Honestly, that was my main concern at this point anyways.  I couldn’t go through the next several months of fertility treatments with the pain the endo has caused so I was going ahead with the surgery no matter what he said.   This is when he suggested the ovarian drilling.  He told me it was an easy procedure and I might as well have it done while my OBGYN is already in there burning the crap out of my insides (my words, not his).  He said doing the drilling might give me better success with IUI if that was the route I was choosing.

So flash forward a few weeks and here we are.  I see my OBGYN in two days to make sure everything is healed okay.  If so, I’d be able to start the process for IUI or IVF.  We were getting SO excited thinking within the next couple months we could finally be pregnant after 5+ years of trying.  Of course, we know our chances with IUI are about that of a person with no fertility problems getting pregnant any given month but hey that’s a better chance than we’ve ever had before!  Plus, we’re not ready to jump straight to IVF.  I mean, dear lord have you seen how much that costs?!?!?! I f you aren’t to that point yet, I don’t mean to scare you but holy hell our babies are going to be expensive, ladies!! Also, what if we skip right to IVF and it doesn’t work?  That’s our last resort.  We have no other option at that point.  If IVF doesn’t work, I won’t be carrying our child and that scares the shit out of me. So, we just aren’t there yet.  We’ll take our chances on IUI and pray God will come through.

It’s funny how fast things can change.  Here we are looking forward to FINALLY starting the process of HOPEFULLY getting pregnant and whammy, life kicks us in the balls.

I was at work last Wednesday, June 21st, just doing my thing, looking forward to a new promotion coming my way (a story for another day) when my vision changed suddenly.  You know when you look at the sun for too long and you lose vision and see bright spots?  That’s what happened, kind of. I started seeing funny out of my left eye, out of nowhere.  One second I could see and the next second I couldn’t.  I could see with both eyes open but when I closed my right eye whatever I looked at with my left eye disappeared.  I was just missing a chunk of my vision.  I could kind of make out things in my peripherals but anytime I would move my focus the dark orb would follow and envelop anything I was trying to look at.

I thought maybe I just looked out my window at the brightness a little too long so I gave it a few minutes to see if it would come back.  I don’t even know if that’s a thing, but that was my first thought.  It didn’t come back.  I spoke to a coworker who told me about her ocular migraines and how what I was experiencing sounded similar to what she experiences.  I took some advil thinking it would help this ocular migraine I was probably having and decided to wait it out.  She told me for the 20 years she’s had them, they never last more than an hour.  Great! I was already over an hour of not seeing but everyone’s different so I assumed it would pass quickly.

I’m a worrier.  I make situations in my mind worse than they usually are. Probably from my fear of death which stems from losing my brother at such a young age, but we can psychoanalyze me later.  First thought, tumor!  I don’t know why, but tumor is my go-to.  Weird ringing in my ear?  Tumor.  Headache?   Tumor.  Pinky toe hurts?  Tumor!!! You see where I’m going with this.  My other coworker, who was familiar with my tumor paranoia, assured me it was not a tumor and just a migraine.  Deep down, I knew it was only a migraine, but who doesn’t like to be dramatic to spice things up in a boring office job?

It had been at least two hours with no vision so I thought I should make an appointment just in case.  I’d rather know for sure it is an ocular migraine to bring my crazy brain some peace of mind.  They could fit me in at 3:15 that day. It was only 11:00.  Cool, four more hours I could sit around and panic.  Just what a Wednesday needs!  I sent my boss an email letting her know what was going on.  At this point, I was certain she was sick of my shit. I had only been back a week and a half from my two week leave for surgery which I had not planned.  Another story for a different time. I missed a lot of work with PCOS and endo (and always feeling like crap but never knowing why) and as understanding as she was, I knew she was probably thinking “dear lord Shanda, what is it this time?”

In talking to my coworker about my almost definite tumor, I remembered my mom had lost her vision in one eye quite a few years back, due to a blood clot.  Oh cool, even better, now I have a blood clot on top of my tumor.  I called my mom and she told me she had Central Retinal Artery Occlusion.  Basically, she had a blood clot that burst and took her vision with it.  This happened when she was 40 and she was now 65. Her doctor told her she was incredibly young to have that happen to her as it usually only occurs in people who are 60 or older.  The good part, she had no pain.  The bad part?  Vision loss is permanent.   That same coworker heard me on the phone talking (probably closer to shrieking) about a blood clot and IM’d me saying “you’re good.”  Thank goodness for her. She keeps me grounded when I spiral out about all my tumors.  She was overly confident it was just a migraine.

I got to the eye doctor and they immediately dilated my left eye so I’d be ready for the doctor by the time he was ready for me.  My pupils are already huge, which every eye doctor always comments on like it’s some sort of weird compliment.  Thank you, I grew them myself!  So, when my eyes are dilated, they get enormous. I look like some sort of weird anime character.  This time I looked like a weird anime character on drugs since it was only one pupil.  It was fun staring at people in the waiting room, winking at them, making them uncomfortable.

When I met with the doctor, he said he originally thought from my symptoms that it was an ocular migraine.  Ocular migraines do not last more than two hours usually so he was concerned it was something else.   My retinas were still attached which was great news!  That was actually my real fear since I’ve always been told I’m at high risk for retinal detachment which can cause permanent vision loss.

After all the tests, he mentioned it was apparent I was missing a big chunk of my vision in my left eye.  Thank you, Dr. Obvious.  He couldn’t see behind my eye to figure out the problem but expected it to be a Central Retinal Artery Occlusion.  I had already forgotten the term from my mom telling it to me earlier.  He explained it’s a blood clot and can cause permanent damage.  He was referring me to a retina specialist.  He told me before I left that if I wake up the next morning and could see, he would assume it was a retinal migraine.  Still, he said, retinal migraines normally don’t last over 2 hours but anything is possible.  I had hope!  I was sure I’d see that next morning.

I tried so hard not to cry in front of him.  I’m sure he saw the tears welting up in my eyes so I hurried out.  While paying, I realized this was not covered by my eye “insurance” because it was considered medical and I should have gone to Kaiser.  Wish they would tell you this shit up front!  I had them fax my paperwork to Kaiser which led to a whole other mess of problems.

As soon as I got in the car, I lost it.  The thought of permanently losing vision in one eye is awful.  I realize things could be so much worse, but still, it felt like a huge loss.  I called my husband on the way home and told him through my ugly crying that it might be permanent.  In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have been driving with one eye, crying and talking on the phone.  Have no fear!  I am an excellent driver and hurt no one that day.

I talked to my mom later that night and asked her again what she had happen to her eye since I couldn’t remember all these damn words.  I told her what they thought it was and that I was supposed to see a specialist the following day.  She insisted on driving me.  Probably a good call.

I wanted to try to go to work that next day so I didn’t piss off my boss but I woke up around 1:45 a.m. and my heart jumped because I remembered the doctor said if I “wake up and can see” it was just a migraine.  I shot open my eyes like a creepy horror flick scene and realized I still could not see.  I had a total meltdown.  My poor husband, trying to sleep, and there I am shaking the whole bed from my convulsion like crying.  I didn’t go back to sleep that night.  I laid there feeling sorry for myself and grieving my vision loss as I was sure it was never coming back.  I called and left a message for my boss that I wouldn’t be in. I didn’t care anymore at that point.  I was sad and scared, mostly exhausted, but I just didn’t care if she was mad.

I impatiently waited for 8:30 when the optometrist’s office opened at Kaiser.  They said they’d call me first thing in the morning after the eye doctor faxed the paperwork.  They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.   Why would they?  I hate medical offices.  They just dilly dally around as if nothing is ever a big deal.  This is a big deal!  This is a huge fucking deal to me!  This affects the rest of my life.  I called at 8:40.  They didn’t have the paperwork.  I immediately called the other doctor who said they already faxed it the night before but would do it again.  Why do all doctor’s offices have to function this way?  I have not met one person who has ever thought “easy breezy” is a good way to explain their experience with doctor’s offices.

About 30 minutes later I get a call from Kaiser.  It was a young woman on the other end.  She sounded sweet and innocent almost like a child, but boy did I want to punch that child once we hung up.  She said the person who needed to review my file before letting me see a doctor would be in the next day and would contact me.  She assured me she was quick and would call me early.  Oh thank you, you little asshole!  I’ll just sit here another day, without vision, possibly dying from a tumor, and wait for the “fast” lady to review my file. “NO.”  I think I shocked her.  How did this seem okay in her child like brain?  Sudden loss or change of vision is considered an emergency and now they want to make me wait another day.  How fucking dare they!  They don’t know who they’re messing with, I will scream cry in all their stupid faces.  She said there was someone else who could review my file.  Why she didn’t just do that in the first place baffles me but it must be that child-like brain of hers that hasn’t fully developed.  She calls me back and says I have to get all the same tests I already had done the night before since that doctor’s notes were “vague.”  She wouldn’t let me see a specialist because “that’s the doctor’s recommendation ma’am.”  I swear to God if it was possible, I would have reached through that phone and throat chopped the shit out of her.  Fine.  It’s better to see someone than no one at all.  The appointment wasn’t until that afternoon.  Fun!  Another full day of sitting around obsessing about the tumor that was most assuredly taking over my brain.

I called my mom, ugly crying yet again.  As you can tell, I was dealing with things very well.  She told me she’d still pick me up and take me to that appointment and suggested for me to try to get some rest.  Yeah right.  A little later, my sister-in-law called me.  She’s been a nurse for that past 7+ years.  She validated my concerns.  She told me this was an emergency and if Kaiser wouldn’t let me see a specialist, she was taking me to the ER.  I HATE the ER!  They make you sit and wait forever with people coughing and snotting all over themselves and then they just tell you to follow up with your doctor anyways.  I told her I would have my mom take me to urgent care.

My mom called me a little later and told me she got in touch with my uncle who is pretty high up in Kaiser.  He was angry they were not treating this as an emergency and told her to take me to urgent care.   He also got me in touch with the head of the whole damn department who finally ended up getting me in with a specialist.  It’s all about who you know.  This whole ordeal took hours and I had to call the freaking head of the department in Washington D.C. just to get a damn appointment! Fuck you very much Kaiser.

I saw Dr. Miller that afternoon who, right off the bat, assured me it was very unlikely I had a Central Retinal Artery Occlusion.  After all of the testing he informed me he thought I had what is called Optic Neuritis which is where the optic nerve connecting your eye to your brain becomes inflamed and obstructs your vision.  Good news is, it’s likely my vision will return in 6-8 weeks.  He said he could also treat me with a heavy dose of steroids which would help my vision come back sooner, but the steroids come with a lot of side effects.  The last thing my moody-self needs is roid-rage.  I felt a heavy weight lifted from my chest.  I would get my vision back!!!!!  He told me he wanted me to get a MRI just to be sure.  The appointment was about over but I figured I’d throw one last question into the mix.  How does optic neuritis happen?  Does the nerve just randomly inflame?  It’s almost as if he was trying to avoid giving me this information.  He told me not to worry right up front.  Smart!  Every time you start a sentence with “don’t worry…BUT,” you know the person is going into full blown panic.   Optic neuritis is the first sign of Multiple Sclerosis.  The MRI would be able to show if I have lesions on my brain which would indicate MS.   He said there’s a chance I don’t have MS but could develop it over time or I could already have it.  “Try not to worry.”  Sure.  You just told a person who always resorts to worst case scenario that she has MS, but I’m sure worry is the last thing she’ll do.  Pffft.

My family was all relieved until I threw in the fun news about possible MS.  My sister and mom both tried to make me promise not to Google anything until I had the MRI and got the results. Ha! Yeah okay, like that’s going to work.  I am a professional Web-MD’er.  My mom took me home and I ugly cried one more time.

I waited maybe an hour before I was on Google frantically looking up MS.  I’ve always heard the term but never really knew much about the disease.  Going through the symptoms was like looking at a description of me the past few years.  Everything was making sense.  This was me! I already diagnosed myself with MS.  I looked over at my husband who had been intently staring at his phone for awhile.  He looked up and said “this is you.”  I texted my sister to let her know I had in fact Googled the shit out of MS only to find out, she did too.  She texted back and said “I think you’ve had this for years.”   Eventually, my mom texted and agreed, this all sounded like what I had been dealing with for years.

It feels like in a matter of seconds, my life changed.  I know I had no diagnosis yet and there was a very real chance I didn’t have MS, but I was convinced I did. I had to schedule my MRI for the following week on Tuesday.  It was only Thursday.  What a fun weekend I was going to have!  There is no way I wouldn’t worry about something like this even though my doctor told me not to.  I thought about it all weekend.  I called in Friday as well and cried and Googled all day.  Like I said, I was really dealing with this well.  I wanted to prepare myself for what I was certain was coming my way.

The good news about MS is it’s completely manageable.  I got to a point over the weekend where I was at peace with the idea of having it. At least I would finally have an answer to why I’ve felt like shit for so long.  It would assure me that I have not been crazy this whole time and I’m not just a hypochondriac as my family would always joke about.   Going to the doctor and constantly being told nothing is wrong with you really has a way of making you look and feel like a crazy person.  MS would take that away.  I wasn’t a crazy person, I was a person with MS. Not only am I a person with MS, I’m also a person with PCOS and endometriosis.  Sheesh, that’s a lot on a body.  No wonder I felt like crap all the time.  There was nothing for me to do at this point but sit and wait.

I have been an emotional wreck since last Wednesday night.  My moods are crazier than ever and I’ve cried so much I really don’t know how there is any fluid left in my body.  Tuesday, my husband took me to get the MRI.  Thank God I had my doctor prescribe me some anxiety meds.   MRIs are really not that much fun.  The first ten minutes were the worst.  I had the most irrational fear while I was in there.  I’m back to thinking I’m a crazy person.  I was worried some sort of disaster was occurring while I was in the machine and the lady doing my MRI was no longer there.  She left me in this machine which would never stop running and I would be stuck in forever!  I thought my head was strapped down and I was certain there was no way for me to escape.  She had put a wash cloth over my eyes so I wouldn’t be able to look around and panic, which was helpful, but I also now could not plan my escape route, if in fact the zombie apocalypse was occurring at that exact moment.   Luckily, she pulled me out to put dye in my IV.  I told her I was worried about being stuck and she informed me I could just wiggle my way out of the machine.  I’m so dumb sometimes.  Where do I come up with these crazy scenarios?  The second half of the MRI was fine.  I actually relaxed and let the vibrations soothe me a bit.

Now comes the worst part, waiting.  She said my doctor would get the results in 3-5 days! It feels like an eternity and I’m now only on day two. I’m trying to keep my mind and body busy while I wait but have I told you how amazing I am at multitasking?  I can be busy and STILL think about all this crap.  As of yesterday afternoon, I have even more time on my hands to obsess.  My boss sat me down yesterday morning and convinced me to take some time off.  She’s seen me around work, tripping, running into walls, crying and just looking like complete death.  She knows I’ve been struggling and that I feel terrible both physically and mentally, it’s really not that hard to see.  My eyes are sunken and almost always filled with tears and I just stumble around like a drunk person bashing into things and knocking everything over.   It’s actually a little complicated to get used to only one eye.  I was a clumsy disaster before losing my vision, it has only intensified.

I am thankful she talked me into taking time off.  It was something I knew I needed but I wasn’t willing to admit.  I’ve always worked really hard at my job and I take pride in my accomplishments.  Admitting that I wasn’t up to the task was almost physically painful for me.  I know God had a role in this.  He saw I needed a break and that I wouldn’t do it myself so he forced me into it.  My boss would not have taken no for an answer.  Back to FMLA, hopefully.  I’m still waiting to hear if it’s approved and I just recently applied for short term disability.  This is all very surreal.  This is not how I saw my 30th birthday going.  Oh did I mention, my birthday was a month and half ago?  It’s been awesome.  So far I’ve gone to the ER in New Orleans, had surgery, was forced into taking more time off than I expected to, lost my vision in my right eye and now might have MS.  Solid start to my thirties.

I have to say, through all of this, I have been extremely blessed.  I have the absolute best support system anyone could wish for.  My family is amazing.  My husband, my parents, my sister…they’ve all been there for me every step of the way.  They’ll let me cry on the phone and bitch for as long as I need.  They reassure me and lift my spirits consistently.  My sister-in-law has been so supportive as well as my close friends.  We all need support at certain times in our lives.  This is that time in my life.

Needless to say, IUI/IVF has been put on hold.  As devastating as it is, there is no way my body can carry a baby right now.  So many things are still unknown.  We will get there someday.  We are determined to have a child and I cannot wait to hold my baby in my arms.  Until then, we will wait as patiently as possible and continue to pray.

[semi-imaginary-place]

More on the earlier topic. Tropes and the modern fantasy genre: Tracking the evolution of genres is a bit of a hobby of mine. The development of the fantasy genre was heavily influences by Tolkien and The Lord of the Ring especially. Tolkien's works popularized high fantasy and brought Fantasy back into the realm of what is respectable for an adult to read. That said Tolkien did not originate many of Fantasy's tropes, and if we were to look at the Legedarium as a modern work, it would be quite subversive as the tropes in Tolkien's work predate the whole Fantasy genre. In the current meta D&D has the most influence, some direct but mostly indirect. But let's track some of the influences from Tolkien through D&D into more modern fantasy. (Please note this is all extremely reductive, like I'm cutting out all the conan the barbarian).

Perspectives on the past:Tolkien was a philologist, someone who studies the stories and histories hidden in words, (That's how the Silmarillion happened.) and he was deeply influenced by his work materials such as Germanic and Anglo Saxon epics. Let us look at Beowulf in particular. Beowulf as many other old stories were when the documentation/nationalism craze took over Europe recorded at a later date than it originates, or to put it another it was a heroic(in the old sense) epic as told by a Christian scholar than analyzed centuries later by the Brits. As much as it is about the warrior culture of the time, the final lines are a mourning for the end of that culture. A grieving goodbye for the end of an age. Sound familiar? Tolkien's Legedarium too is about the inevitable march of time, regardless of what happens next, the past will never be again. I should note here that Tolkien was a Catholic traditionalist (with all that implies) in the early 1900's. Thus (along with other inlfuences) established the trend of Fantasy looking back. Later fantasy works drop the inevitable change part (especially TTRPGs I'm looking at you 40k) and often end up in a static world that romanticizes the past. FE games often feel like that, nothing ever really changes. If we look at the world in Echoes compared to Awakening, what has really changed?

War: For all of Tolkien was immersed in heroic epics, his attitudes on war can better be traced to his experiences being deployed to the front lines in WW1 and losing all his friends but 1 to that war. Tolkien is a WW1 author though he is not often thought of that way. Tolkien's thesis is essentially that war is a terrible thing that humans have made and should be avoided. Hey hey have you guys read the fanfiction Tolkien wrote for "The Battle of Maldon"???? Its called "The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son" and its great. It is also the work that most succinctly (hahahahahahha) states his anti war sentiments. And of course its in the style of a dialectic. Its a good read. He is highly critical of the idea that war is in any way glorious. An idea that a lot of later fantasy flat out drops. There is no glory in war, only loss.

Heroes: despite everything Tolkien still believed in heroes (In a way Jackson and the movies didn't really). But in response to the great warrior heroes of legend, Tolkien believed in the everyday hero, that every ordinary person has the potential to rise to the occasion and help. Fighting capability and violence does not make a hero, but character and spirit, and doing what needs to be done. The best example is Sam. Tolkien also spent a lot of time playing with and subverting the traditional tropes of heroes. For example Turn who is set up as a archtypal hero but who keeps  messing up and making things worse. Maedhros whose traditionally heroic qualities box him in and also make things worse. This stance on heroes also tends to be dropped with many Fantasy heroes destined or special in some way.

Lastly, above I often referred to Fantasy and in doing so mostly meant the image of fantasy that many have in their minds. This image is primarily derived from books publish in the 80's and 90's. In the last decade I have seen Fantasy have a rebirth, reincarnating into something new and fresh. In other words the archtypal Fantasy in many ways no longer exists. Current fantasy is influenced by urban fantasy, videogames, and the re-imagining of old mythology. Its also much more diverse. I was getting tired of the vaguely european coded straight cis male teenageer that grew up on a farm. I am excited for this future.

I forgot the eurocentrism!!!!

Tolkien as a white Englsih dude living in England in traditional academia and essentially being a European lit major was eurocentric af. I doubt it was intentional, just like I doubt Tolkien was aware of the extent of his racism and misogyny. Most people are to a degree, and if you are never challenged on it a person can go their whole life without realizing that they have assimilated a lot of bigotry.  The 1800's and 1900's saw the rise of nationalism all over Europe, its how WW1 started. Every nation was having a big dick contest competing "Hey look! my culture/history/literature is better than yours". That's why philology was so popular, its about a langauge's history and tied to national identity. Its also why philology fell out of fashion because the Nazi's were really into that stuff. That's another influence on the Legedarium "A Mythology for England" Finland had the Kalevala but what did England have? Also. British Exceptionalism was totally a thing back then. The glorious British Empire~~ So all of that ended up in Fantasy. You can see it really well in D&D's Forgotten Realms. The Sword Coast (europe coded) is presented as the baseline and everywhere else is oooo~ so exotic and foreign. Now tracking this into JRPGs is where is gets real interesting because japanese society has this weird fetish for "The West", and white people. So you end up with this old romanticization of a kinda european-ish looking setting that's really disconnected from reality. Bloodlines: The belief that X group of people is inherently different from Y group, feeds ideas of racism. As does the belief that because X group is different from Y group, descendants of X group have certain traits (moral, behavioral, political, etc) that make them different from Y group, that lineage means something. And Tolkien was caught up in these old ideas (these have been debunked).  He did make progress when people wrote in about anti-semitic implications for the dwarves, including rewriting the Silmarillion (again), but I don't know if her ever fully dropped the idea. Consciously he was very much against racism and everything the Nazi's stood for, but subconsciously like most other white people at the time he held within him the seeds of racism.

[kismet-at-the-library]

A-Z BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS

I’ve seen a few of these lists floating around as per @macrolit‘s idea (you can find their original post here) and obviously I had to spend the past few hours compiling a list of my own. It’s definitely harder than it looks! I was trying to go for some less obvious choices while also paying homage to all the books that have struck a chord with me, but I must admit I had to cheat a little by including a few titles from my TBR pile. In my defense, I have an excellent feeling about all of these – plus, what better motivation to finally get started on reading them? (If only grad school weren’t in the way... but a girl can still dream.)

A - Atonement by Ian McEwan (2001)

A superbly well-written and incredibly touching novel, featuring one of the children characters I’ve related to the most in my reading life. (Yes, I relate to Briony! Not for what she does, of course, but the way she experiences and describes the world is just so so familiar to me.)

B - The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz (2007)

I think I’m still a little heartbroken over this one. It wasn’t always perfect, but it’s stayed with me in a way that other books I’ve read in the past few years haven’t. Plus, I still can’t get over a narrator using footnotes to explain historical details about the Dominican Republic. If you’ve read Díaz before, you’ll definitely fall for Yunior’s voice all over again. And if you haven’t, what are you waiting for?

C - La casa de los espíritus (The House of the Spirits) by Isabel Allende (1982)

I already got one for H (this list was not compiled in alphabetical order) so I’m “cheating” by using the title in the original language (which is also the one I read it in).

D - Du côté de chez Swann (The Way by Swann’s) by Marcel Proust (1913)

...because lately I’ve been mildly (she says) obsessed with Proust and you should be too <3 This is the first volume in the monumental In Search of Lost Time. I went in knowing hardly anything about it other than ~Proust~ and was incredibly surprised by how accessible it was. (If you’re still feeling intimidated, I definitely recommend reading Alain de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life to help break the ice!)

E - Emplumada by Lorna Dee Cervantes (1981)

A poetry collection by the author on whom I wrote my bachelor’s thesis. Lorna Dee Cervantes writes about growing up as a working-class Chicana in the U.S. Southwest. In her poems as in her life, gender, race, and class intersect to make up the experience of a powerful woman and gifted poet who uses incredibly lyrical language.

F - Free Enterprise: A Novel of Mary Ellen Pleasant by Michelle Cliff (1993)

Now, if you want some good, kickass, well-researched alternative historiography featuring Black historical lady figures, then this is the book for you. It’s an account (fictional, yes, but in no way less significant than the ‘authorized’ history) of John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry and the women that took part in it (for non-U.S. readers, John Brown was a white abolitionist who tried to start an armed slave revolt). One of those women was Mary Ellen Pleasant, a black woman and entrepreneur who helped fund John Brown’s raid. So, yep, you should definitely get to this one straight away. It’s not the most accessible kind of writing because it moves across time, space, and characters, but if you pay enough attention you’ll have no problem following it until the end, and you’ll be immensely enriched because of it. <3

G - The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford (1915)

This is the saddest story I have ever heard. That’s the first line of the book, by the way. If you like unreliable narrators and morally-dubious characters, you’ll definitely enjoy this one.

H - Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2006)

Adichie is very well known right now because of her booklet We Should All Be Feminists (and with good reason), but this is the one that made me fall in love with her. I don’t even remember what led me to buying this book when I basically knew nothing about her, but I’m so glad I did. I love historical fiction and this novel about the Biafran War just broke my heart in all the right places. One of my best on-a-whim purchases.

I - If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (2017)

This is one of the latest books I’ve read but more importantly one I’ve been excited to read for at least two years. The stakes were high but wow, did it deliver. It’s been marketed as a mystery/literary thriller but I get the feeling that this kind of description could turn away readers who are not into mysteries but who would have plenty of other reasons to enjoy this novel. Yes, there is a mystery (and the pacing is excellent!) but the story is really about the characters, who are really well-developed. Rio ( @m-l-rio) has the incredible ability to set a scene with great economy of words and make each of them count. And, oh, that ending was absolutely perfect.

(Special mention: If This Is a Man by Primo Levi.)

J - Jacques the Fatalist and his Master by Denis Diderot (1796)

A novel about subverting the reader’s expectations (and I mean that). I read this one some 6 years ago but I still think about it as one of the funniest novels (or non-novels?) I’ve ever read and I can’t wait to read it again one day. It gets very, very meta and I remember lots of (subtle or not-so-subtle) criticism on the art of the novel as practised by Diderot’s contemporaries.

(Special mention: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. Because, do I even need to explain? <3)

K - To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (1960)

Well, this one is a bit obvious. Didn’t have a lot of K-titles to choose from... But also, this was one of the first books I read in English, at a time when my love of literature fully-blossomed, and that makes it even more special.

L - The Lonely Londoners by Sam Selvon (1956)

I loved the writing in this novel about the life of West Indian immigrants in London in the 1950s. Such a strong narrative voice. Its only flaw is that it only focuses on the male immigrant experience, but that’s no reason not to love it anyway.

M - Manual of the Warrior of the Light by Paulo Coelho (1997)

The book that made me get into Paulo Coelho quite a few years ago. I’m less into him now, but this is still among my favourites <3 A book one can turn to in times of hardship, always ready to offer much-needed words of wisdom.

N - North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (1855)

I think @dukeofbookingham once described this as “Pride and Prejudice with a social conscience” and I don’t think I can top that description. If you’re still unsure about this, why not watch the 2004 BBC adaptation with Richard Armitage?

O - Orlando by Virginia Woolf (1928)

Sometimes a bit difficult to get through, but so beautifully written that it makes it totally worth it. Also, such an imaginative read!

P - Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw (1913)

Maaaaan I love this play. My inner linguistic nerd can’t resist Higgins’s endavours to train Eliza to speak like a “proper lady”, and the feminist in me is ever in awe of Eliza’s strength of character. (Don’t trust the ending they gave her in My Fair Lady. Shaw was much smarter than that.)

Q - Regina di fiori e di perle (Queen of Flowers and Pearls) by Gabriella Ghermandi (2011)

Now this is a double cheat because 1) I’m using the translation to make it work, and 2) I took it from my TBR pile, but this is one I’m really excited about, and it’s by an Italo-Ethiopian author, so... <3

R - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard (1966)

There were plenty of more obvious choices for this one and I’ve actually only ever seen the film adaptation, but I love the idea for this play so much I couldn’t resist. Plus, I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a copy since forever...

S - Sillabari (Abecedary) by Goffredo Parise (1972-1982)

Going again by the title in the original language. Honestly, I keep trying to recommend this wonderful book to my English-speaking friends but it’s so frustrating because only the first part of this (...novel? collection?) has been translated into English. “Collection” doesn’t seem like the right word because there is such a strong thematic unity to this book, but it is certainly made up of vignettes, each of which is meant to describe a human feeling, something that is achieved with great economy of words and often in unexpected and unpredictable ways. Incidentally, this is a particularly fitting title for this list because the vignettes are organized in alphabetical order (Abecedary, anyone?) –the first one is “Amore”, love. If you can read Italian, I cannot recommend this enough!

(Special mention: Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches by Audre Lorde.)

T - The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien (1954)

This doesn’t look like cheating but it feels like cheating. :P There were plenty of other titles to choose from but none that was giving me as strong a feeling. Plus, it feels good to pay homage to one of the books that started it all for me <3 (and I actually first discovered Tumblr by looking for LOTR-related content, so it's even more appropriate.)

U - Chasing Utopia: A Hybrid by Nikki Giovanni (2013)

I was trying to go for something that wasn’t Ulysses (which I haven’t read yet, by the way). Now, I haven’t read this whole collection, but I remember reading some of Nikki Giovanni’s poetry in one of my American literature classes and I definitely liked her work. Plus, I love that title! I had kind of forgotten about this one, so now might be the right time to go and actually check it out from the library.

V - Il visconte dimezzato (The Cloven Viscount) by Italo Calvino (1951)

Wow, was it difficult to find a worthy V-title! (Or one that is not in my TBR pile.) I haven’t read the books in this unconventional ‘trilogy’ in so long, but I still remember liking them a lot (although my favourite was always The Nonexistent Knight).

W - Waiting in the Twilight by Joan Riley (1987)

This is a more obscure title and probably not as easy to get a hold of (AbeBooks would be your best option) but this immigrant story about a Jamaican woman and her dream of building a better life for herself told from the perspective of her disenchanted old self is incredibly powerful and just... my heart breaks for Adella.

X/Y - I got nothing. :(

Z - Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde (1982)

Another one that I haven’t read (yet), but this is Audre Lorde, so. <3

[garden-ghoul]

fellowship of the bloggening, part 1

I’m reading it here. I look at the table of contents and go “oh for fuck’s sake” because the prologue is “concerning hobbits... concerning pipeweed.” I’m. not reading the prologue. No I’m reading “concerning hobbits” because I really want to know how and when they happened.

This is really cute, hobbits are basically like... brownies, according to Johnald. And some of them are only two feet tall??? LITTLE

The beginning of Hobbits lies far back in the Elder Days that are now lost and forgotten. Only the Elves still preserve any records of that vanished time, and their traditions are concerned almost entirely with their own history, in which Men appear seldom and Hobbits are not mentioned at all. Yet it is clear that Hobbits had, in fact, lived quietly in Middle-earth for many long years before other folk became even aware of them.

nooooooo why must elves be so

like that

Anyway, we also learn that there are still Dunedain settlements in Eriador, including one notable one that’s actually at Bree! I love the. weird mismatch of naming seriousness here. You have your very olde Numenorean and elvish names like Eriador, and then most of the settlements in Eriador have names like Hobbiton and Bree and Brandywine. It’s very charming, like a hermit crab that has moved into an extremely fancy looking conch shell. An adorable transplant. It is here mentioned that the first hobbits appearing in historical record politely asked the high king of Arnor if they could move in, in exchange for road maintenance. Too cute!

To the last battle at Fornost with the Witch-lord of Angmar they sent some bowmen to the aid of the king, or so they maintained, though no tales of Men record it.

::3

And with that it’s time for

A LONG-EXPECTED PARTY

We begin with an accounting of what everyone thinks about Bilbo Baggins! Everyone is kind of dubious about him because of his eternal youth thing, but he’s very free with his riches and consequently the less well-off hobbits love him. It says he didn’t have many friends until some of his young cousins grew up. He and Frodo share a birthday, so on Frodo’s coming of age birthday Bilbo will be 111 and they’re having a huge party! 

Holy shit. Sam’s dad is named Ham Gamgee. I’m so tickled. This next bit is a bunch of gossip and baseless speculation on Frodo’s family history by Gaffer & co. They keep calling everything and everyone queer, which is great, because it confirms Frodo is 100% not straight. I think he might be a bit old for Sam but I suppose we shall see.

Dwarves and a fire wizard have showed up a bit early for the party, and Hobbiton is getting stoked. Bilbo mails out invitations to everybody individually instead of just saying “everyone can come to the party,” and with that plus their replies (also by post) the post office is completely swamped for a week. He’s having fun with everyone. I do have to wonder how he got word to the dwarves, though. What kind of mail is there between Eriador and Erebor?

Oh here’s a cute tidbit about hobbit culture: at a party, both the hosts and guests give gifts, and so:

Actually in Hobbiton and Bywater every day in the year it was somebody’s birthday, so that every hobbit in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present at least once a week. But they never got tired of them.

I also like to imagine that Gandalf had a lot of fun designing firecrackers. Like, he does have serious wizard business to do. But also he has the firegays from his ring, and so. Anyway there is a Special Dinner that only 144 people are invited to. Good grief, how can Bilbo possibly still be rich enough to put on a party for like 1000 people? Bilbo makes a speech, with which everyone quickly gets very bored because they are all drunk, but the real point was to be an asshole and vanish mysteriously to make a point (Gandalf adds some pyrotechnics for effect, bless him). Frodo appreciates his joke, but is sad that he’s going to be leaving, and just can’t party any more.

Bilbo and Gandalf argue over leaving the ring to Frodo, Bilbo runs off with some dwarves (we never find out who!) and then people show up at Bag End to get presents Bilbo has left them with passive-aggressive notes on. Then everyone thinks it’s just a free-for-all take-Bilbo’s-stuff party and they swarm the house and poor Frodo has to lie down, leaving Merry in charge. The Sackville-Bagginses come to insult him by saying he’s a Brandybuck, not a Baggins!!

‘Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,’ said Frodo as he shut the door on her.

‘It was a compliment,’ said Merry Brandybuck, ‘and so, of course, not true.’

Cute. I like Merry’s sass. Frodo kicks out a bunch of people who are trying to dig up his cellar and collapses, just in time for Gandalf to come and say he is fleeing like a 

SHADOW OF THE PAST

Do you like my transitions? I’m polishing them.

Frodo continues to throw Bilbo a birthday party every year, instead of mourning as would be proper. I think he’s too embarrassed to throw a birthday party for himself but still wants to have a party, bless his heart.

he was sometimes seen far from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight. Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done.

Where are these elves? There are elves in the Shire? What?

WELL. Around Frodo’s 50th birthday, a lot of elves start passing through on the way to the Gray Havens, as well as the usual dwarves going to and from the Blue Mountains. Elves are leaving Middle Earth in rapidly increasing numbers because of some very troubling rumors about Sauron. Gandalf turns up to discuss this with Frodo, and during an awkward silence they hear “the sound of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn.” Sorry, what?? This poor boy is cutting Frodo’s lawn by hand?? With like, a scythe?? WHY? Does Frodo really seem like the type of person who cares how well-shorn his lawn is? I fucking hate lawn culture.

Leaving that aside there’s some ring history I guess. Here’s a very interesting thing, though: Gandalf says the inscription on the ring is in “the language of Mordor.” Why does Sauron have his own language? ...what language did they speak before, in Angband? I can’t believe Mr Jolkien has been SO REMISS as to let us stay ignorant of an entire language and its cultural origins!! Anyway if I had to guess I would say the old language of Morgoth’s holdings would end up being some kind of odd Sindarin-Beorian-Quenya creole, given who lived and worked (in slavery) there. But the higher-ups would surely speak whatever language they were already speaking... Quenya? Is Quenya a language invented by the Ainur and then handed down to the Eldar? No it’s not, it has common roots with Sindarin. I have to assume there’s an Ainur language that Morgoth and Sauron knew, but they probably wouldn’t use it with their orc lieutenants and such... and thus I feel better saying that Angband Creole is the historical basis for the language of Mordor, although obviously it will have evolved a lot and mixed with the languages of goblins and such that Sauron ended up recruiting.

Listen. If there’s not an actual note in the appendix about this I’m going to be pisséd. Oh, I’m sure someone’s written a paper on it, though.

Oh! We also get to know about the seven rings--he managed to recover three of them, but the other four were eaten by dragons. Just the way they would have wanted to go. Gandalf also gives a... troublingly detailed account of how Smeagol came to possess the one ring? He adds that Smeagol’s friend came up from the river with weeds and mud in his hair. Which like, I guess you can extrapolate that from him being in a river but why add it?? He even comes up with specific terms of endearment... Smeagol calls Deagol ‘my love,’ which I can ONLY take to mean they were dating. This makes Smeagol’s imminent murder of Deagol all the more tragic.

Also we learn that Gandalf hunted down Smeagol and questioned him to find a lot of this out! Smeagol had been sneaking around basically everywhere, eating people’s children and the like (!!), and only failed to actually get into the shire because wood-elves were protecting the borders. Eventually years later when Aragon helped find him again, they realized he had been to Mordor and been tortured for information there.

Frodo is very frightened at this point, and almost makes himself try to destroy the ring, but instead realizes he has put it back in his pocket. This is terrifying!! Holy shit I would lose my mind with fear if this happened to me. Also I enjoy the ridiculously high specific heat of magic rings. So Frodo decides to keep the ring safe for now, and to go away from the Shire:

‘I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don’t feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.’

It’s That Feel, back once again. This was something I was thinking a lot about wrt to the Lay of Leithian and Children of Hurin; how different Beren and Luthien’s outlooks are based on “feeling that you have a homeland” or not; how profoundly affected Turin is by feeling he has no place to go back to. I wonder if this is something Johnald thought a lot about during the war. It’s terrible here, so terrible, but there is somewhere peaceful to come home to. I haven’t felt that in so long, and I very much wish to again some day.

[kimbisaurus]

My first almost D&D but Not DND session!

Soo way back when, my dad gave me a book - a AD&D DMG from a market stall. And it was soo intriguing - but completely almost incomprehensible. A DMG made some sense - but all the numbers & mechanics were weird alien concepts that followed no simple path (some went up, others went down - and there was all these weird changes to add or subtract everywhere! AD&D was a chaotic book to say the least). Later, I’d discover my school had an original D&D players guide (ok, it was actually just the D&D book. There was only meant to be one. It was the very first book every made & meant to be a all in one concept). Suddenly things made sense - and we even had 2 modules. D&D could be had! Sooo I went to a friends house & he loved the concept. He also loved elves - no really, you have to understand he worshipped elves soooo much his ears gear almost 2 inches longer & pointy when he was leaving highschool. it was OMG scary. No surgery, no fakes - just straight up brain power misspent to reshape his body after his favorite image. He was already kinda tall & thin. And a pale skinned gaming geek naturally... So all he needed was to grow out his hair & grow pointy ears. Sooo he did... Kinda freaky... Kinda explains a lot about being human - and yeah, ‘Worshipped tolkieen type elves’ is the best description I have. But otherwise a nerdy nice guy. Annyyywayyy, I went over (pre-elf state) & asked about D&D. And he produced a rulebook - for Lord of the Rings. I didn’t care, we’re doing this. So we rolled up some characters. He had a Warrior or a Paladin I think. And I had a rogue - were-tiger. The LOTR RPG was a point buy system similar to white wolf games. You buy advantages and flaws to gain talents/powers/magic/skills & flaws. I found some for balance, jumping & damage resistance. And something like claws/teeth. Add in some rogue skills & movement skills & I was set! Now my friend was the by the book type - which I thankfully cured immediately by suggesting we do a ‘By the seat of our story pants’ session - we just started. Soon we were running atop rooves of the city doing a chase scene - totally awesome for a thief. And the paladin was running below trying hard to keep up. Rogues are totally awesome! Ooohhh yes! Anyway - we dived into this brave new RPG world. We had lots of fun. At some point we decided our setting was Faerun’s Waterdeep - we’d read a D&D novel about it & that was all the inspiration we needed. We also grew our party to like 3-4 people, maybe 5? And we were working for the political movers & shakers of Waterdeep. But we started with 2 characters chasing a thief across rooftops... Using a completely alien system that had almost no magic what so ever - improvising everything from rules to dice. We knew D&D needed d20s, so we rolled d20s plus our skills. That worked well. Damage was a d6 or 2d6 for something big. Life was soo simple - then we got loot! And we had a DMG for that! OMG, but my mate surpassed me here. Suddenly we had a gnomish inventor with a self moving carriage. It was steam powered.. ish... Magic steam I think... And we ended up with a self shooting crossbow on top at somepoint. That was actually scary - it shoot anyone & everyone, sometimes even us! I remember leaping from the rooftop of our carriage as it steamed it’s way over snowtopped fields, leaping for our opponent’s horses & chariots. I had to make so many agility checks (or was it balance?) - and aced them all. I was a were-cat & I knew where to specialise. Movement skills! Later our paladin died - and we wanted him back. So we planehopped over to the elvish heavens to steal his soul back (we’re adventurers after all! We know we’re here to loot the place!) So the GM distracted us with various scenes of heaven. I was really tempted to try and open this ornate obsidian door that seemed to glow with red runes everywhere. It was chained up with heavy mithril chains & magic locks - and omg it was so tempting... But the party managed to guess it might actually be a portal to the Nine Hells & dragged their curious kitty away... Then the GM tried to distract another player with a beautiful glade. However it was the Kitty who ended up wandering inside & being all curious. There was an elf there & we talked a lot. We kinda got into a debate about religion - and realized we had the same goals, but completely opposite perspectives on how to achieve it. We laughed a lot as everyone else realized the GM & I we’re arguing the same points from the opposite side of the lens. After that, I decided I liked this god - and well our campaign was slowly getting a VS Evil Hell Demons vibe. So believing in a particular god was appropriate. We did a lot of the ‘I pay homage to each different deity when I do something related to their portfolio’ type of prayers - partly as jokes & partly just to be characterful. So having one God was kinda cool. Anyway this elf asked if I wanted to start on the path as a cleric. Sure I said - now the other players had noticed when the GM said this god was forgotten on our world (it was a grey hawk god I think? Some other setting besides Faerun either way). And we’re pretty powerful folk now. We dance with the city’s politicians, royalty & gentry. We go to fancy parties & hang out with the royal poisoner, do work for the head Assassin sometimes & we even helped out the temple of helm so much we have a writ from the High Priest of Helm - allowing us shelter, food, aid & even a few coins from any temple of Helm. Amazing right? Well imagine my surprise when someone introduced me as a cleric of ‘Long Forgotten God’ when we finally retrieved our Paladin’s soul, avoided accidentally opening the door to hell a second time (It glowed and everything! I mean spoilt sports!) and we went to a royal ball to our success & our Paladin’s resurrection! Cleric’s were kinda a rare thing - we had lots of priests. But they could do no more than light healing (cure wounds & disease, produce food & water kinda magic. Very limited- because the system was also kinda limited in regards to magic) but clerics could open portals, summon angels & do real magics. Of course, I had 1 spell (*cough I had just enough exp to buy 1 ability cough*) - and slightly elfin features. There was the promise of an elven lifespan if I was a dutiful cleric though. So almost immortality was a pretty cool boon for a were-kitty... Now you’re wondering what the catch was - because there was one. I was just a cleric of this god. The only cleric actually. I’d been charged with spreading the word & given a cool title. Cleric! And then someone finally completed the sentence - we walked into the Royal Ball - and I was announced as the High Priest of ‘Long forgotten Elven God’... High priest... Yeah... The GM saddled me with ‘promote my faith’ & ‘High Priest’ in a political campaign... Now the GM was cool - the royal folk gave me a plot of land to cultivate into a druid glave with an underground cave/temple space. Which was cool. I even got a gold grant to help transplant soil & plants to the space. And it was near the Temple of Helm. The High Grand Temple of Helm... Where we have that lovely writ of aid... Soooo I maybe started preaching on the steps to the Temple of Helm... About my new god. And that made the High Priest of Helm just a little mad... Then we summoned a angel. The GM read about this spell where you could trade goods & gold to gain the service of angels. And they were anime angels that could build cities in days instead of months. Or nuke cities filled with undead and such... Sooo we traded some stuff from our stash & roll a d100 like all good gamers asking for a miracle. Got a 99 or was it a 100? That called forth some angels, saved our city in a big climatic battle & then sponsored a massive party - and our Angels turned DJs & Dancers and we jammed all night long! I mean we literally had them in our service for 2 days, so we just jammed & partied, then cleaned up the city some the next morning.  Amazingly, given how rare Clerics with real magic were, this had an impact on the populace... Preventing the Devil Apocalypse, Summoning Angels & Jamming with the rarest of planar beings after kicking all the BBEG’s collective butts! Yes we made an impression... Now prior to this I had established a kitty theme for loving high places. I always liked to sleep atop these massive columns that adorned the Temple of Helm. 20 to 30m tall columns that were under an even taller roof - so I could nap up there or watch the city flow below me like ants... it was awesome! Which meant I was now awoken by crowds of faithful, flocking to the temple of helm, to wake my charrie up with shouts for wisdom & sermons. I’d tell stories on the front steps (just so I was taller than the crowds. They had a bunch of statues to climb over and leap atop too!) & it was sooo fun! Anddd the GM was secretly making rolls to see if the High Priest would finally snap & do something evil against me... Even turn to the devils just to ‘silence’ this menace to their god... I totally stole so many of their followers... I mean the GM saddled me with being a High Priest... So I lied, tricked & teased my way into becoming the most popular cleric in the city. You let the rogue make a faith after all. This is totally before we ever read Terry Pratchett btw - So you can’t think I’d ever read Going Postal or Making Money. All original madness I’m afraid :) - And yeah... I nearly broke apart the campaign world in my childish teasing of Helm’s chosen... Heeh... Still almost no remorse there :P Sooo that was my role in our first campaign. I mean, we fought wars, assassinated assassins trying to kill us in our supposed sleep, raced steam chariots & besieged armies! We stole artifacts, invented flawed intelligent items like repeating crossbows (we had a sciencey type player who got on well with the mad gnomish inventors guild) and ended up nearly killing the party 3 times with our own repeating crossbow (twice we luckily ran out of arrows, the third time we had to throw a boulder onto our carriage - and boy was that expensive to fix...)  And don’t get me started on the politics... It literally flew over my teenage head... I was so clueless then. I even was tricked into being a high priest... Seriously, our party laughed me out of the room when I realized my easy-street lazy rogue was now saddled with actually working & promoting something, raising funds & even having to preach to get followers... And then people worked out I was actually a really good talker & on state debate teams... I just really enjoyed being lazy, stealing & leaping my way through problems... Anyway... long rambling stories... Probably not that interesting - but OMG my fondest memory is just that beginning - we rolled up characters & started playing before we read the mechanics. We invented everything we needed in 5 minutes & learnt some real rules later - which we half ignored as we tried to recreate the spirit of DND with d20s & Lord of the Rings Character Sheets. Still have that sheet too! If you ever want to start a game - just take whatever books you have and go for it. Don’t stress about the rules, make stuff up. Borrow the Advantage/Disadvantage system from fifth Ed - and just go with the flow. If it feels like success, tell the player. If it doesn’t, describe the player's misfortune...