#i was so psyched to be chosen god i was so happy

[belmeran]

i can post this now !! i was chosen to be the back cover illustrator for the Four Seasons Huntlow Zine, and i’m very happy with the result ☺️ thank you so much @fourseasonszine ! this meant a lot to me.

everyone did so well, go check it out!

[sinsmockingbird]

Because I've seen people asking for it, here's all the information I have (and have made) for the PTN Goddess!AU. Keep in mind it's still in development, meaning I'm happy to hear people's ideas and input and I'll probably change things up from them.

CW: PTN Goddess!AU under the cut.

For this AU I'm using Greek Gods & Goddesses specifically. Mainly because I know about them the most and plus this was inspired by Chameleon, Chelsea, & Cabernet's Greek inspired attires.

Before I go into information on the PTN women, here's stuff to know about the Reader; They are a human who devotes their life to worshipping the Gods. So much so that's caught the attention of a few. They are devout and loyal to their Goddesses, worshipping not just at their shrines, but worshipping them in the bedroom as well.

Next, here's the women I don't have anything set up for yet (have chosen a Greek God they could be). So, would love to hear opinions on these women; Eleven, K.K., Macchiato, McQueen, Pricilla, Shalom, Stargazer, & Uni.

Now, here's a list of the other women and the Gods they represent in this AU;

✧ ADELA: Hades, God of the Underworld, the dead and riches.

✧ ANNE: Asclepius, God of healing and medicine.

✧ BAI YI: Hermes, God of travel, speed, thieves, trade and invention.

✧ CABERNET: Dionysus, God of grape-harvest, wine, orchards, madness and parties.

✧ CASSIA: Aglaia, Goddess of beauty, splendor, glory and adornment.

✧ CHAMELEON: Hypnos, God of sleep.

✧ CHELSEA: Aphrodite, Goddess of beauty, love, desire, passion and pleasure.

✧ CINNABAR: Soteria, Goddess of safety, salvation, deliverance and preservation from harm.

✧ COQUELIC: Demeter, Goddess of harvest, grain and fertility.

✧ CORSO: Lyssa, Goddess of mad rage, frenzy and rabies.

✧ DEREN: Pheme, Goddess of fame and renown.

✧ DREYA: Nyx, Goddess of the night.

✧ EIRENE: Plutus, God of abundance and wealth.

✧ ENFER: Hephaestus, God of technology, craftsman, sculptures and blacksmiths.

✧ GAROFANO: Hera, Goddess of women, marriage, childbirth and familial love.

✧ HAMEL: Terpsichore, Goddess of lyric poetry and dancing.

✧ IGNIS: Hestia, Goddess of hearth, home and family.

✧ IRON: Paean, God of healing and physicians.

✧ KELVIN: Khoine, Goddess of snow.

✧ LAMIA: Poseidon, God of the sea, storms, earthquakes and floods.

✧ LANGLEY: Athena, Goddess of wisdom, strategy, crafts and the arts.

✧ LISA: Apollo, God of the sun, light, plague, music, art, poetry, knowledge and truth.

✧ MANTIS: Pan, God of the wild.

✧ NOX: Psyche, Goddess of the human soul.

✧ NINETY-NINE: Kratos, God of strength.

✧ OAK CASKET: Thanatos, God of peaceful death.

✧ RAHU: Nemesis, Goddess of balance, retribution and vengeance.

✧ RAVEN: Calliope, Goddess of epic poetry.

✧ SERPENT: Morpheus, God of dreams.

✧ SUMIRE: Persephone, Goddess of the springtime and vegetation.

✧ TETRA: Peitho, God of persuasion.

✧ ZOYA: Ares, God of war and courage.

[pagannatural]

1.16 Shadow

-This is going to be long-winded

-Sam snaps at Dean for talking about a woman rather than focusing on him the case. Like REALLY snaps.

-he gives Dean attitude again for flirting at the bar and looks hurt and tired

-Sam sees Meg and thinks That’s suspicious maybe this is a lead. Dean sees Sam talking to Meg and thinks Oh god oh no oh fuck shit shit he’s leaving me fuck it’s me or her oh jesus god no

-Sam is very focused on Meg during their initial conversation because she’s a lead. Dean misreads the fuck out of this and stares between them uneasily, clearing his throat, until Meg says Sam told her about him.

He’s psyched to hear this. He’s so happy Sam talked about him. Sam, however, is nervous about getting caught emotionally cheating on Dean by talking to Meg about their relationship issues when they were fighting.

-Dean starts in the second they leave the bar with “who the hell was she” which is exactly what a cheated-on wife would say. Dean is mad that Sam talked shit about him to someone else but mostly he’s scared that there’s “truth to what she was saying” and asks “am I keeping you against your will?” They’re both so desperate to be chosen by each other.

Sam reacts with genuine indignation and says “no, of course not.” He asks Dean to listen to what he’s saying and Dean finally does.

-Then of course Dean makes a series of dirty jokes about Sam being interested in her, at one point glancing openly at Sam’s dick which

like, I-

???

He pushes his jokes farther than he needs to because this thing with Meg really got to him. It’s different this episode than his usual teasing because there’s anger behind it. He’s fixating on Sam’s sex life and making himself a part of it as much as possible. If Dean is in Sam’s head about it it’s like he’s part of it too. There’s also an element of passive aggression, like Hey if I’m keeping you and you want to be with her go right ahead.

-This is his face at the end of their phone call later, when Sam says “bite me” and Dean says “No, bite her” which is all kinds of psychosexual and jealous and Sam hangs up on him.

He is not having a fun lighthearted time. He’s trying to act flippant about Meg but Sam really hurt his feelings.

-He shoots Sam this jealous look while teasing him yet again in a way neither of them enjoys

Dean you are the bad girl. You’re the sharpshooting fuck-the-police real-tough-cookie-with-the-whiskey-breath killer-and-a-thriller bad bitch in his life.

-They have their most intense fight yet this episode because Sam tells Dean that when this is over he will go back to school.

-For context, this conversation comes right after Dean tries to call John and gets his voicemail yet again. It comes a few episodes after Sam told John that Dean was dying, also over voicemail, and he never called. Sam still needs to rebel against their dad, and Dean is proposing that they all three work together. Sam is in this when it’s just him and Dean but he’s been working hard to keep some distance from Dean so that he can leave when they’ve finished their mission.

Sam really can’t join Dean and John without smothering the side of himself that needs to belong and be respected. And he and Dean can’t really belong to each other with their dad around. The three of them hunting together doesn’t work and Sam knows that. Part of that is because Dean always follows John’s orders. And maybe part of that is Sam’s too-strong feelings for Dean.

-Sam says “there’s gotta be something you want for yourself” and Dean says “I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over.”

Just to rephrase this exchange is

Sam: what do you want for your life

Dean: I want you to stay

and they look like they’re in another rom com

Dean asks him why he thinks he wanted Sam with him in the first place. Sam doesn’t understand. He really thinks Dean just wanted his help to complete the mission of finding John and killing the demon.

Dean says yeah, “But it’s more than that, man.” And Sam looks at him sooo intensely. It seems like Dean is going to confess, and I wonder what Sam thought in this moment. The inclusion of John makes it seem less like they’re desperately in love, and is often the only thing making it seem like anything other than desperate yearning for each other.

Dean says he wants the three of them to be a family again. Sam says “We are a family, I’d do anything for you.” Dean reacts with this miserable look of hope only when Sam says “I’d do anything for you.” Anything?

“but things will never be the way they were before.” Sam says “when this is all over you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.”

This is Dean’s worst fear, and for the rest of the season at least he is operating on the belief that Sam wants to leave him.

-Sam saves himself, Dean, and John from the shadow demons. Dean and John help each other out of the building with Sam trailing close behind them. This is probably what Sam has felt like his whole life- like he’s trying to catch up to Dean and John, who are ahead of him, helping each other, and just out of reach.

Sam tells John “I’ve got to be a part of this fight,” begging not be left behind yet again.

-It’s revealed in this episode that Dean cares about his family, and especially Sam, more than he cares about anything else, and that Sam didn’t know that. This is the first time Dean’s actually said it. It changes things for Sam because he starts to see Dean more clearly. He’s still clinging for dear life to the possibility of going back to college. Even though he never really fit in and he needs Dean like water.

-Dean doesn’t get any resolution here, and he won’t for a while.

[tacticalhimbo]

PALE STATIC EXCHANGE... 2! Posting this a bit early, but I'm very excited to have been able to dip my toes into @palestaticexchange this time around! It's very cool to see how alive the Disco Elysium fandom is.

That said, this piece is for @glitch-critter , who asked for "stuff relating to HDB's experience/psyche, especially with regards to electrochemistry/addiction".

WORDS: 2.3K

I really liked the prompts provided, and I thought it would be cool to kind of explore how relapse and recovery can manifest in forms different than the baseline addiction. As such, it would seem Harry has found himself over-correcting himself in regard to his work...

I hope you do enjoy it <3

Also, let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Coastal winds were much tamer as they rolled through the densely packed buildings of Central Jamrock, only just able to sustain themselves as they lapped around the perimeter of Precinct 41. Harry wouldn't be here, if not for Kim. It was he who'd defended him to Vicquemare. He who'd attested to the idea that Harry could get better, with a little guidance and a lot of patience. He who'd truly believed in him, despite everything they faced. Creeping along his senses was the smell of blood shed by belief and held together by vengeance. Remnants of a decades' long war, and its lasting effects on the human psyche—both those that were in tact, and those that were already fragmented—as the world evolved around them. The stillness of the air was dry, just as was the mouth of the disco detective who'd found himself falling into familiar habit. Eat, sleep, work, party—

[LOGIC] No, not anymore. You've given that up now.

[VOLITION] You are a changed man. Or so you would like to have others believe.

Harry is a changed man, or so he would like others to believe. He would like to believe it.

Yet the familiar dryness that consumed Harry did not feel changed. Nor did the aching that settled into his musculature, drawing the thickened fibers back like that of a bowstring, arming them—arming him—to snap at a moment's notice. His stomach felt a familiar sickness. One that had consumed him during the infancy stages of the Martinaise investigation. A horrific hangover, but this one was different. It was dry. He was dry. And that irritated him. Thick brows knitted as his psyche wandered to the idea, briefly leaning into the comforting embrace of familiarity of outrage. It was easier, after all, to be mad at the circumstance than to navigate it. But… It didn't feel right. No, he wasn't angry about it. Perhaps a part of him was. But Harry? Him? He was uncertain. Afraid. Every time he wet his lips in consideration, he knew he would not be able to stop himself. Not when—

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] It's a miracle you even lasted this long. It's like something has snapped in you—a nerve ending. You've lost yourself, Harry. Truly, lost yourself. And god knows how long it will take you to come back this time.

The subtle emphasis makes his skin crawl as his head shakes, hands pausing to linger under the chilled water pouring forth into the sink basin. He sighed, looking to the dingy mirror before him.

Through the speckles of old debris and matted dust, and past the droplets of dew that form with the arterial spray of the sink's faucet (a sign that the mechanism, much like the rest of the restroom, is in need of repair; it has been for as long as one can remember), the visage that greets Harry is… healthier. It invokes a sense of pride not too dissimilar to when he'd first whispered his name—the one he had chosen, not the one he was given—and truly seen himself for the first time. Like the waves, it swelled briefly before crashing down. Fell upon the invariable signs of his past habits. Like looking through the bottom of a liquor-filled glass, it was hazy; a deluge of desperation and need encapsulated by bloatedness and swollenness. Sat neatly among the discolored planes. Pallid skin darkened and reddened as the blood vessels beneath the skin remained agape, prepared for consumption.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Telangiectasia. Small blood vessels sat near the skin's surface. It is natural for them to sit so high, but normally they remain unseen until there is an increase in blood flow.

[INLAND EMPIRE] Recall how one's features become rosy when hearts begin to flutter, or how the sun's warmth seems to sit upon the apples of one's cheeks like a comforting blanket.

[DRAMA] There is an art to this.

[LOGIC] There is not. This is a different sort of happenstance. The events that have led to your flushed appearance are not a simple point of life, nor something to be proud of.

But it is, a simple point of life. Accentuation of Harry's simple existence. It is not something he can change, especially as that nausea begins to grow in his gut. His mouth feels full of cotton; his body so writhe with tension that he begins to tremble and grow dizzy. His nose feels like a small balloon in the middle of his face. His tongue feels swollen and snail-like, floundering about amidst tainted teeth as trembling hands cusp beneath the faucet and draw splashes of water toward his lips.

[ELECTROCHEMISTRY] Drink, but it will not replace what you need. No, this is nothing, brother. The best cure for a disease like this is indulgence. Morphine, cigarettes, rum… You need them again. You will not survive without them. This? This is—

[COMPOSURE] Embarrassing.

[AUTHORITY] Weak. How do you expect anybody to take you seriously? Nobody would listen to someone so pathetic.

The taunts were met with the sound of the door slamming; a minute signal in the grand scheme of things. It went unnoticed by those in the wing's hallway. To them, it was business as usual. If not Harry, then Satellite-Officer Vicquemare. If not Vicquemare, then Captain Pryce.

[RHETORIC] The police aren't there to mess up; the police are there to preserve the mess.

[ENCYCLOPEDIA] Says the professor of Ecole Normale de Revachol. Someone has been reading in his spare time.

[LOGIC] Or simply observing with a clear mind.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] This is a dangerous line of thinking to be falling down. Your past airing of grievances with the RCM has earned you several stern talkings to. In his office, Captain Pryce grimaces at the clutched papers in his aging hands.

[RHETORIC] It was addiction that saved you. Easier to blame the abstract than to examine the system.

A shiver. Harry wasn't the only one struggling. He knew that, even before his days of total sobriety. This sort of culture was normalized; expected of its officers. Many of his habits he fell into through the hands of his coworkers, even if they were not his introduction to the idea. Of course, things were different now. After his outburst, and the disaster in Martinaise, the RCM began cracking down on the use of substances among its officers. Many, like Harry, suddenly found themselves thrust into the true responsibility of duty. Conscious and aware to the severity of their workloads. Many quit. Many more fell into old habits and were systemically demoted until the work no longer supported their needs. And those, like Harry, leaned into the work. Buried themselves in mountains of paperwork chasing that adrenaline-fueled high by doing something—anything—to feel alive.

Yet they never did. Harry never did.

Time blurred past and he was, effectively, the same old corpse he always was. A puppet of the RCM's agenda. The failed Dick Mullen. The swaying body strung from the rafters, dancing along to the fluttering shimmer of the disco ball.

Then, there is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness. An inordinate amount of time passes, not even measurable by the distant, rhythmic technological beeps.

[PERCEPTION] Hospital monitors? No. Alarms. An alarm.

[LOGIC] It must be morning. We should get up.

[VOLITION] We shouldn't. We can't. It's much too difficult.

The soft rustling of sheets.

[PAIN THRESHOLD] Easy…

Muscles ache and the silence is inevitably broken by a low groan. Sunlight filters in through dusted curtains, particles coming to fill the air as a heavy hand finds itself upon the alarm clock beside him. Equally heavy feet find the floor, though remain unable to hold the body above them. In a quick sequence, Harry finds himself on the floor, slumped and slouched in an all too familiar position. The aches stop, albeit briefly. Like a fly to the ointment, his conscience sticks to it. Chases it as the limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering awakens itself once more. He is on his feet again, cotton cloth sliding across the floor as his body wills itself to the bathroom.

A mirror hangs above a bent, not broken, sink. Languid hands find themselves upon the faucet, though are gentler in the way they manipulate it. Hot water sprays from the stem and steam covers the mirror. Harry cannot see himself, just the outline of a man.

[CONCEPTUALIZATION] There is an irony in seeing the image. It was not always like this.

[VOLITION] Those days are long gone, now.

Cloth falls from the man's frame, though it remains obscured by the apparatus before him. He slowly reaches his hand toward the surface of the mirror…

[INLAND EMPIRE] You're certain you wish to do this? You may not like what you see there.

[HARRY] I don't care.

A deft motion. The condensation on the reflective surface gives under the palm that wipes it, leaving in its path a clear view to the tired visage that stares back. To the naked, pallid flesh that rolls from a slumped frame. Hair highlights various pathways, traveling down between taped and tucked mounds and rolling along the rumbling stomach, and continuing through the fog and beyond the sink's barrier. It traverses the adhesive edges of Harry's binding (he's still thankful he has learned this alternative; not only does it keep his natural form, but it allows him to wear his shirts open with pride) and over his shoulders. Down thick arms to the bruised knuckles that hold the porcelain lip of the sink. It flutters out, then reappears upon his rounded jaw, mutton chops growing thickened around his lips. He's due for a shave, but a part of him enjoys this rugged look. It's… different. He's different.

He's happy.

[COMPOSURE] You're exhausted.

[SAVOIR FAIRE] You've dropped the toothbrush. Again. Your hands feel foreign to your own body.

His eyes follow dirt-stained grout lines down to the floor, only to find that sad little toothbrush dried beside the trash bin. He's exhausted. Creaking and groaning, Harry bends to discard the brush; opts to simply swish some mouthwash and try not to think of the burning sensation that draws his nose to scrunch and his eyes to water. He does it twice. Perhaps to mask the fact he has not properly brushed and will have to save that act for after his shift. Perhaps because he feels he deserves the ache; it invigorates him. Begins to bring him back to life and pull him from the vice grip weariness holds on him.

But it isn't enough.

Not as he washes himself in the shower, nearly tripping over the tub's lip as he climbs out afterward. Nor as he finds himself slumped against the wardrobe door, idly flipping through his clothing options and looking for his RCM jacket.

[PERCEPTION] It… should be here. Why isn't it here? Don't tell me we've lost it again.

[LOGIC] Nonsense. We brought it home. It is here, just not put away.

It's not enough as he waits for the toast to pop from its apparatus, where the sudden click and ding nearly makes him crawl out of his skin. Coffee spills on his shirt, bringing him back to the wardrobe once more, digging around for a new shirt and tie. Back to the kitchen. New coffee in his cup. Butter and jam on cooling bread. Crumbs dust his facial hair, only unsettled from their rest when he reaches to scratch a persistent itch. It is then when the realization clicks.

He's exhausted. He is unmoving. Those early morning aches have not been shaken, and have in fact only worsened with his moving through the morning routine. His mind has been quieter; nearly absent. He can barely recall what he's done and what he hasn't, with the only clues being the visible changes in his appearance that signify—at the very least—that he's done the basics and cleaned himself. But that's just it. If he can't even recall this, how in the world could he find himself responsible for the safety of others. How could he find himself amidst the greater world around him, with dozens of eyes on him—some pleading, some scrutinizing?

He'd done it before, under worse circumstances… but he wasn't that kind of animal anymore. He didn't want to be that kind of animal anymore.

Which is why, with a swaying physique and a hoarseness in his voice, he found himself on the phone with whichever unfortunate soul would find themselves on the other end of the line. Unfortunate, not for taking in his call-in, but for having to present it to Vicquemare and Pryce.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Early morning ire. Slender knuckles knock on the door to ask permission to enter; it is granted. From his throne, Pryce sneers at the individual before him. His brow twitches, his posture stiffens.

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] What the hell do you mean he called out?

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] A pregnant pause. The avoidance of eye contact.

[UNKNOWN] He just did… Said something about feeling under the weather.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] The response was faint. Nearly whispered as the other end of the reigning duo entered with a stack of papers.

[JEAN VICQUEMARE] Who called out?

[CAPTAIN PRYCE] Your star pupil.

[ESPIRIT DE CORPS] Jean's posture slackens and he sneers. It's evident the sarcastic jab was more than enough to clue him in. Yet there is a subtleness in his eyes that almost suggests concern. He sets the papers on Pryce's desk then walks out without another word.

Shoulders slump and a ragged sigh escapes as Harry undoes his tie and discards it, absentmindedly tossing it to the coffee table. His shirt follows as he sinks into the comfortable contour of the couch. Tired eyes slip shut, coaxing the surrounding musculature to relax and begin a rippling effect. He melts, and for once he can feel the day passing.

And for once, he does not care. He deserves this rest, and nothing can convince him otherwise.

[opertabry]

| notes; prologue

[ synopsis; there’s a cute girl that always sleeps in your intro pysch class. she just so happens to be ginger AND your dorm neighbor ]

PROLOGUE;

I watched as she plopped herself on the chair again. Everyday for the past two semesters this girl, without fail, would sit right next to the window, two seats down from where I sat. She always looked tired, dark bags under her eyes, she would always walk into the lecture hall and sit down on that window seat and rest her head on her arms and sleep. I mean, come on, who pays this much for tuition and just walks into class to what? Rest your eyes? It's literally 2 in the afternoon.

No one took notice to her or seemed to care, honestly I don't think anyone cared about the class either (to be fair, it was intro psychology). I did though, even with the dark bags, the baggy hoodie, she was cute. As cute as a college student, who wanted nothing but to die, can be I guess. She never took notes in class, I figured she would be fine failing the class, so who cares right? Now, tell me why in the world am I feeling slightly bad for her as I write my notes down?

I watched as (I'm not creepy, trust me) her hood rode up slightly, exposing her newly dyed ginger hair to me. Ginger? Really? All the colors in the world, all the dyes that you could have chosen and this cute girl that I don't even know the name of, chose ginger? Like, come on cute girl, I liked you more when you were dirty blonde.

"Alright, guys, I can tell you're all very tired. You did a good job, let's pack it up."

A few relieved groans and a rushed stuffing my stuff in my bag later, I was out of the lecture hall and breathing in the fresh air as I walked towards my dorm. I froze as I saw cute girl punching in her code to her dorm. Okay pause, first off, how in the world did this girl get to her dorm faster than me? I was quite literally the first person to get out of that godforsaken lecture hall. And two, cute girl is my dorm neighbor? What in the literal fuck?

I put in my dorm code, swung the door wide open and slammed it shut with my eyes looking like saucers. My dorm mate, Hanni, was laying on the couch with TV remote in hand, while looking at me amused.

"Hanni FUCKING PHAM."

"WHAT? DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG?"

"Cute girl. Cute girl from intro psych. Next door. Ginger. WHAT THE FUCK."

"y/n calm your ASS down and tell me, with sentences, minimum 5th grade level. Can you do that for me, sweetie?" Hanni mockingly said, while sitting up.

"Okay I hate you, but remember cute girl I told you about? Always sleeps, hood on? From my intro psych class?"

"Mhm."

"She dyed her hair ginger AND she lives in dorm next to us? It's been literally TWO semesters, how have I not seen her?" I said, shock evident in my voice.

"Wait, wait. Does she look or act like the epitome of happiness, sunshine and rainbows?"

"What the fuck, no? She sleeps in class."

"Oh my god. Cute girl is Kang Haerin?"

"..Who?"

Hanni was about to open her mouth when we heard a knock on the door. We rolled our eyes as we assumed it was those frat boys who were playing ding dong ditch like little kids. We ignored it as I told Hanni to continue, and we heard another knock. I groaned as I pushed myself away from the couch and went to open the door.

"Hi! You must be my dorm neighbor, sorry, my name is Danielle!" She greeted with a weirdly happy, too happy look on her face for a broke college student that is most likely in debt.

"Oh Danielle! Hi, what brings you over here?" Hanni smiled as she walked up behind me.

"Nothing much, I just heard some yelling over here and wanted to check in on you guys. You're both alright, right?" She asked a worried expression plaguing her face.

"Yep, we were just really excited." I breathed out with a (not so) genuine smile.

"Alright, well. y/n right? Hanni told me and Haerin about you, it's nice to finally meet you! I'll get going now, Haerin wanted me to grab some things from the convenience store for her." Danielle waved as she left, not forgetting to smile (so hard I thought her face was about to combust. How does someone smile so much in college? Respect to her though).

I closed the door as I turned to Hanni with the fakest smile I could muster.

"You weren't kidding, huh?"

"Yep, sunshine and rainbows and fucking everything in between."

I mean at least I can put a name to a face now. Haerin. Kang Haerin. Cute name for a cute girl.

I guess.

[ previous | masterlist | next ]

[scoutpologist]

you asked for religious hcs. personally I am average and sane about catholic quackity and jewish wilbur. yet another reason they are So Fucked Up i think.

YOU UNDERSTAND ME MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD OH MY GOD

cquackity is so catholic like he's so so so catholic he's catholicism core embodied. he gives the vibes of a character who doesn't actually like catholicism and would have never chosen it of his own volition but it's what he was raised with and it sort of ingrained itself in his psyche in some weird way and now he's just. inherently catholic about some things and has a complex about being happy lol. i don't think he practices much besides some traditions that he just can't let go of.

and i am NOT normal about jewish cwilbur oh my god it's one of my favorite headcanons but i'm shy about it bc it's so personal to me ksjdhgksjdf. did you know that he died two days before rosh hashanah 2020 did you know that. something about that drives me insane like he didn't stay to see the sunrise of the new year. he didn't STAY. if only he had stayed. he closed the year out terrified and alone and miserable. was that his way of atoning for the wrongdoings of the year? was that his fucked up way of making teshuvah??? with his death was he begging people to leave him in the past?

and there's a lesson there for cwilbur at least about what teshuvah and forgiveness and repentance actually ARE and it's not about hurting yourself. it's about making the world better, it's about being a better person, it's not about guilt but about moving forward and how you can move forward.

when he was revived it was right before lag b'omer might i fucking ADD. he was alive to see a day, albeit a minor holiday, so built around victory and celebration and FIRE. his fire was reignited. he was alive to see hope in the middle of a period of mourning. I'M GOING CRAZY.

i just cannot stop thinking about jewish cwilbur it drives me crazy he's so. he's SO. i love him so much i never want to shut up about him in my entire life he's everything to me

(also this goes really well with my ctommy catholic headcanon as well because they very obviously care for and love each other but there's very much a Disparity between them and the way they view the world that would be really interesting to explore on a religious level)

(also this would either make wilbur's mom (and/or dad in some communities) jewish or mean he converted. and i love both of those. i'm partial to conversion headcanon tbh particularly <3)

(if no one stops me i will make them all jewish do not test me)

[vitanithepure]

The question about god!Gale has compelled me to ask --

What is Vitani's approach to faith? And how would they react if Gale became a deity?

Oof, what a combo of questions. There is no easy or short way to answer this, not with what’s going on in my head about it, so… grab onto something - we are diving deep into Vitani’s psyche :)

Vitani is a very devoted Lathanderite. If they thought more of themselves, they would certainly join the Morninglord’s priesthood a long time ago. They are as close as people in this setting can be to being henotheistic, they may invoke other gods from time to time, but at the end of the day (or, rather, at the beginning of each) they only hold Lathander in their heart and prayers. Faith is something they consider being an integral part of themselves, who are they without a deity guiding them?

Now, armed with the knowledge of how Vitani feels about faith…

Vitani went into the relationship with Gale very... well, not intimidated, but certainly unsure. They would never dream of Lathander even bothering to show himself to them, and this guy was intimate with Mystra? Vitani recognizes Gale as a man of deep faith, very much as they are, but this is another level of devotion altogether for them - making him so much more than a simple mortal or even more than a Chosen of a deity. They do a lot of comparing themselves to others, so this relationship all kind of rides on him becoming more human in their eyes over the time they are together.

So if he did decide to claim godhood at the end (and we assume he survives, of course)? Well, Vitani’s love for him at this point would certainly not just disappear, but become a lot more complicated. There is already a god they devoted their heart to, and Vitani doesn’t do things halfway, so one has to go.

I see it going two ways:

In both of them, Lathander is gone from Vitani’s life. That alone makes them miserable even if they don’t recognize it. In this path Vitani devotes themselves to Gale completely, but they lose themselves in the process. You can’t be the sunshine in everyone’s life if you are a Chosen of the god of ambition. Their love becomes more of a fanatical worship than anything else.

The other way I see this going is, tragically, Gale’s history repeating itself. Vitani does something really stupid and destructive to prove they are capable and worthy of the trust Gale puts in them. Because Vitani will never be sure if they are enough with a partner that is this much out of their league.

They want Gale Dekarios, they could handle Gale of Waterdeep, but Gale the God is just too much.

So…I guess this is a long way to say I don’t see it working out for them this way, not in a happy way 😭

[summerwritesfics]

🖤For Warmth You’ll Be Longing, Nightingale, Chapter 1 - For Of Sugar And Ice I Am Made

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 7694 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Cult AU, Past Torture, Flower growing in peoples skin, Body Horror, Mental Health Issues, NSFK (Not Safe For Kuai)

For Warmth You’ll Be Longing, Nightingale Masterlist

Notes: Omg, I finally have a bit of a “AO3 authors post under any and all circumstance” story for these notes, as I edited and posted this with half of my face swollen :D My cheek is so swollen I can actually see it from the corner of my eye lmao. Also I have been having toothache on and off since yesterday. I know those things together prob sound really bad but I don’t believe they are actually related (I have episodes of swelling, this feel very much like that and as such does feel like it’s on it’s way to actually going down, plus the toothache is slowly getting better.) If my editing if a bit off that is probably why, but I said I’d try post stuff over the weekend and I’m gonna do it dammit lmao. Anyway enjoy this chapter where Kuai basically becomes a manic pixie nightmare girl. Some cracks in his psyche show a little and it’s only gonna get worse from here, so buckle up. Chapter title is from “Love Like Winter” by AFI.

Things could change so much in just a year.

Kuai’s ascension was greatly contested by the Elder’s for weeks after it had happened. Calls to try and reason with Lady Cetrion to change her chosen one. Some Elder’s outright refused to acknowledge Kuai for what he was now. The Grandmaster was, oddly enough, on Kuai’s side in this, trying to argue that Lady Cetrion had chosen Kuai for a reason, so they should trust her judgement and that she had a plan. Still, it took some time for the Elder’s to come around.

Kuai freezing the entire compound for a few days did seem to get the majority in line however.

The general consensus of the regular members of the Lin Kuei were a lot more positive thankfully. Surprised, given Kuai’s reputation as the rebel of the compound, but seemingly happy for him. Really, it appeared people were just happy their devotion had been noticed by a God in some way. Lady Cetrion had blessed Kuai Liang, and by extension them, when she bestowed this gift to him.

Sure, he still got the odd death glare from some Elder’s, but none had yet dared to try and take him down. He could walk around the compound with his head held high, all that he crossed bowing to him. All his pain and suffering had finally been repaid with respect and adoration.

So… Why did he feel like he was still completely without any power?

Sure, The Lin Kuei followed him without question now, but somehow he got the feeling that Cetrion’s plans for him were beyond the scope of just the compound. There were so many problems in the world, hunger, war, pollution. He felt like Cetrion wanted him to be the one to put an end to all that. That he could in some way be doing more to save the world from itself.

The problem was, he had no idea where to even begin with that.

Even he had been unable to contact Lady Cetrion for guidance, and all the Grandmaster could suggest was taking it a day at a time. But he was growing impatient, and what he saw of the world beyond the compound, he wasn’t sure he had that much time left to act.

“You wish to do too much too fast, My Lord,” the Grandmaster told him, standing just to the side of Kuai’s throne. “We must first convert others to our cause, then when we have the manpower, you can do what you wish.”

Kuai crossed his arms and slumped in his seat, but he supposed the Grandmaster had a point. If more people believed he truly was the messiah, the easier it would be to command the changes he needed. It was just getting a world that hardly believed the old gods even existed to trust what they were saying was proving difficult.

“The good news is, we’ve managed to recruit a lot of new members from across the globe,” the Grandmaster continued, ignoring Kuai’s mini temper tantrum. “I just got word that they’ve arrived. They’ll be brought before you for initiation, and then shown to their accommodations.”

“Do we have enough room?” Kuai asked with an eyebrow raised. “I hadn’t believed they’d finished the new lodgings yet.”

“They’ve finished enough to welcome at least some new members,” the Grandmaster informed him and Kuai couldn’t help but frown. How come I haven’t been told about this? Given he was the one who’d ordered the new buildings, it seemed logical he would be the one to be told first. “I believe the other elder’s assigned Elder Fang to oversee the project, that may be why you have not been informed.”

Kuai rolled his eyes. Elder Fang had always hated Kuai Liang, and Lady Cetrion’s gift had just seemed to make that hatred amplify.

“He would not be a problem if you’d just let me freeze him,” Kuai grumbled, stopping himself from sliding even further in his chair.

The Grandmaster just chuckled, “unfortunately he is a little too important for me to allow you to do that, My Lord.”

Important, my ass.

Kuai didn’t get a chance to continue that line of thought when the doors to the throne room opened. Cyrax stepped through, guiding in a surprisingly large group of people in civilian clothing. Kuai immediately pushed himself to sit up, so he at least looked somewhat more professional than he actually was.

The group was diverse. Young and Old, single people and families, all races. He found it curious how their message had united people who likely had such different life stories. It gave him hope for being able to reach more over time. Overall though, no one really stood out to him. They all just looked like regular people hoping for a new start.

That was, until he found his eyes landing on one particular man towards the back of the crowd.

He was tall, but seemed to be ducking slightly to try and make himself seem smaller. He had long hair tied into a bun, a trim beard and a yellow hoodie. But it wasn’t any of that which had caught Kuai’s attention. It was the fact he appeared to be trying to not draw any attention to himself. He was seemingly hiding amongst the crowd, not wanting anyone to notice him.

Kuai appreciated the irony that the mans attempt to remain incognito had drawn his attention.

“Welcome to The Lin Kuei,” the Grandmaster began, and Kuai tried to look like he was paying attention to everyone and not just this strange man at the back. “I am Grandmaster Oniro, and this-” he gestured to Kuai, “is Lord Song Kuai Liang, Lady Cetrion’s chosen one.”

There was a chorus of whispers from the crowd. Kuai couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, but he could imagine it was questions on how this man could be the chosen one. What made him so special, after all? Kuai smirked, he couldn’t wait to start casually using his powers around them and seeing realisation slowly sink in.

The man at the back didn’t really react. He just lifted his head enough to get a good look at Kuai Liang. Kuai debated waving at him, but decided that’d probably just be mean.

Grandmaster Oniro was droning on and on about the compound, their rituals, the daily schedule, how everyone would be given a job to do. Kuai knew it all already, so he could just shut it out for now.

The man seemed to be paying attention, although he was frowning rather intensely. Clearly he had heard something that he had either taken exception to or was unsure about. Kuai supposed that in the outside world, they probably didn’t have quite as many strict rules as The Lin Kuei did. He should just be thankful I outlawed physical punishments. It was pretty much Kuai’s first order as the chosen one. No one, no matter how disobedient they were, would ever suffer like he had.

While he suspected it was his suffering that had drawn Lady Cetrion to him, that still didn’t mean it had been a good thing or worth the pain.

“Cyrax will show you to your accommodation,” the Grandmaster concluded. “We will give you time to settle in and then we can begin your spiritual journey.”

Cyrax jumped to action, bowing towards Kuai and the Grandmaster, before beginning to usher out the crowd. Kuai’s gaze was still on that same man, who once more tried his best to blend into the crowd. Curious. Was he just shy? Or was he trying to hide something?

Only one way to find out.

“Would I be okay to observe the new recruits?” Kuai questioned, trying to make the request as casual as he could. “I would like to get a feeling on the type of people they are.”

“Of course,” the Grandmaster replied, “you may do whatever you like, My Lord.”

“Correct answer,” Kuai snarked as he jumped up onto his feet. “In that case, I will bid you adieu.”

The Grandmaster bowed to him as he confidently strode out of the throne room. He wasn’t sure what was going on with the man he’d taken such an interest in. Hell, there might have been nothing at all. But Kuai needed to know what the guy's deal was.

Hanzo glared at his own reflection in the mirror. This uniform he’d been made to wear was simple, dyed yellow, and made of an itchy fabric. Worse still, it didn’t have any pockets, so he wouldn’t have anywhere to put his contraband phone. He needed to figure out a way to carry it around, he required it to be able to record conversations and take photographs of the conditions here.

This closed off cult in the middle of the Chinese wilderness had always had people wondering about the conditions inside. Until recently, it had been impossible to get in from the outside, the only new members having been born within. Rumours of the group's cruelty were widespread but somewhat unfounded. Truth was no one knew what happened behind the walls of the compound, and no one had ever left to tell the truth.

Then, suddenly, that all changed.

Of course, claims that the Elder God’s had blessed the group with the messiah were obviously fake. It was obvious it was a bid to attract attention and gain new members. The question was why? Why did they need new blood? Were their bloodlines becoming too intertwined? Did they just decide they wanted to expand?

Did they genuinely believe that fraud with a flower glued to his chest was really the Messiah?

Hanzo didn’t know, but that’s why he was here. He was going to document everything that went on within these walls, and then once he’d gotten what he needed, write an article exposing them. Hopefully then the Chinese government couldn’t continue to turn a blind eye to their dangerous practices.

He looked down at the robe again. The sleeves were long and quite baggy, so for now he could possibly tie the phone to his arm. He grabbed a strip of rope, pulling the sleeve up enough to place the phone against his forearm and wrapped the rope around it, being careful not to strap it too tightly and cut off his own circulation.

He let the clothing drop back down, hiding the phone from view. This was as good as any time to start exploring and seeing what he could find out. It seemed they were being given time to get used to their surroundings before their first meal and proper initiation. Hanzo didn’t know what that would entail, but he had a bad feeling about it.

He turned to leave the room. It was annoying he’d be sharing with a lot of other people, it would make hiding his true intentions a lot harder, but he was used to this sort of undercover work. He was the journalist who’d blown the lid on the Shujinko scandal after all. He could do this. And at least this time he wasn’t alone. Thankfully it seemed other factions were interested in exposes the cults inner workings, and in the interest of getting all information possible, the factions had agreed to work together rather than against each other.

As he walked down the corridor, he pondered that this building looked extremely new. Clearly they had been planning to open up their walls for a while now if they’d managed to build this cabin. Still, it didn’t really reveal too much. For a shack it was actually quite nice. No, he had a feeling the things he’d be looking for would be in other parts of the commune.

As he approached the door’s to the outside world, he could hear two voices talking. He recognised one as Cyrax, the man who’d guided them in, but the second was new. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the door, sticking his head around just enough that he could make out Cyrax and his partner in conversation.

Hanzo’s eyes widened when he realised it was the so-called messiah himself.

“So, everyone is settling in then? No complaints about the cabin?” The messiah asked, his tone so strange that Hanzo could not tell what he was thinking. “Given Fang’s involvement in building them I would not be surprised if there was.”

“No complaints,” Cyrax assured him, leaning to one side and smirking. “Fang may have contempt for you, but he wouldn’t risk pissing off the Grandmaster.”

The messiah, Hanzo believed his name was Kuai Liang, tilted his head side to side like he was considering that.

“Yes. You are probably right,” he finally admitted with a frustrated sigh. “If you do hear anything though, please let me know.”

Cyrax hummed, raising an eyebrow before saying “alright, spill.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What’s gained your attention this time?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kuai said innocently enough, looking at Cyrax with a pout and puppy dog eyes, far more suited to a child than a religious leader.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about Kuai Liang,” Cyrax fired back and Hanzo couldn’t help but hold his breath. It was such an informal way of speaking to someone who was technically his superior, Hanzo almost considered grabbing his phone to catch the aftermath that would surely follow. “I know you, and I know how nosey you are. Something, or someone, has caught your eye, and you’ve come to investigate.”

“I’m not nosey, I’m inquisitive, thank you very much,” Kuai replied, brushing down his outfit like it was dirty. It was now Hanzo was closer that he could tell just how much nicer the man’s clothes were than anyone else’s. His robe looked silky and comfortable, while also being extremely ornate. It was clear that his supposed status earned him luxuries the rest of the group did not get. “And maybe I’m just interested in the new people, we’ve never accepted new members during my lifetime.”

Cyrax didn’t reply, just continued to stare at Kuai. Weirdly Hanzo could sense Kuai squirming internally from the gaze.

“Alright, fine, yes there is someone who caught my attention,” Kuai admitted, brushing his hand through his hair. “There was a man near the back, wearing a yellow hoodie and hair in a bun.”

Hanzo felt all air leave his body. That was definitely him that Kuai was talking about. Why he’d taken notice, Hanzo had no idea, but it was the last thing he wanted. He needed to blend in and not stand out, definitely not immediately attract the attention of The Lin Kuei’s most important individual. What the hell did I even do to make him notice me?

“Oh, yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” Cyrax replied, rubbing his chin. “What about him though? He didn’t exactly stand out to me, if I’m being honest.”

“It is probably nothing,” Kuai said, shrugging as he did. “He was just trying a little too hard to not be noticed.”

Hanzo bared his teeth in a grimace. Was his attempt to hide that obvious?

“Weird,” Cyrax drawled, “he could just be shy.”

“Or he’s hiding something,” Kuai retorted and Hanzo held his breath. He’d honestly counted on just falling into the background. He hadn’t accounted for the possibility that any of the cult members would be that observant.

Let alone their so-called messiah.

Hanzo took a step backwards, and cursed when the floorboard creaked extremely loudly from his weight. Both Kuai and Cyrax stopped their conversation, and he knew they had to be looking towards the doorway. Maybe if he styled it out enough, he could make it look like he was just coming through.

He stepped outside, trying to look indifferent, and like he hadn’t been listening in to their conversation.

“Uh, sorry,” he muttered, attempting to continue walking past them.

“Wait!”

Hanzo froze at the sound of Kuai’s voice, seconds later an unnaturally cold hand was taking his and spinning him to face him. Hanzo was certain he must have looked like a deer in headlights as Kuai smiled up at him.

“You’re a new recruit right?” Kuai said in an innocent tone, like he hadn’t been talking about Hanzo just seconds ago. It was actually unnerving how sincere he sounded. Someone who could lie so well and so casually could only mean trouble.

“Um. Yes. Hanzo Hasashi, Your… Grace…” Hanzo wasn’t sure how he should be addressing Kuai Liang, but clearly that way in particular amused him greatly as he began to giggle.

“So formal!” Kuai lightly patted his chest. “There is no need.” He grimaced slightly. “Well, actually you might want to refer to me as My Lord in front of the Grandmaster and Elders, but otherwise Kuai Liang is fine!”

“I… See…” Hanzo wasn’t sure if Kuai was just trying to seem more personable to ease the nerves of newcomers or if he was trying to get something from Hanzo.

“No need to be so shy, Hanzo. I don’t bite.” Kuai pulled back ever so slightly, making a very obvious point to look him up and down. A wicked grin came over his face as he added on “I mean, not unless you want me to~”

Kuai winked at him, and all Hanzo could do was splutter in response. All Hanzo knew at that moment was that his entire face was hot, and that his flustered reaction was clearly delighting Kuai.

“Alright, easy boy,” Cyrax finally chimed in, putting a hand on Kuai’s shoulder. “You are a menace, stop teasing our new recruits.”

“I’m just being friendly,” Kuai insisted, practically giving Cyrax puppy dog eyes again.

“Yeah. Too friendly. Go be a pain in the ass somewhere else,” Cyrax shot back, it was clear from his tone he was teasing, yet Hanzo still couldn’t help but freeze slightly. How the hell Cyrax could be so comfortable being so rude to Kuai, even in jest, he didn’t know.

“Fine, spoil sport.” Kuai stuck his tongue out at Cyrax, before turning his attention back to Hanzo. “I’ll see you around, hope you settle in well.”

Kuai finally let go of Hanzo’s hand, before turning on the spot and walking off, lazily waving over his shoulder with one hand. Hanzo waited until he’d rounded a corner and disappeared before turning to look at Cyrax again, who was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about that. Kuai Liang can seem a little full on when you first meet him,” he explained with a fond chuckle. It was starting to become clear to Hanzo that they were legitimately close, and not just in the form of a religious leader and a worshipper. “He’s still getting used to his role too. I promise he means well.”

Well. You probably would think that. Hanzo chose not to voice that thought, instead asking “about the whole messiah thing. How exactly did that happen?”

“I don’t know, really. They’ve been very quiet about it.” Cyrax rubbed the back of his head. “The Grandmaster and Elder’s were witness to it, but it’s like they’re all sworn to secrecy.”

“Right.” That just confirmed the whole thing was bullshit in Hanzo’s mind. It was all just very convenient for everyone involved to not be able to talk about it. “Um. Anyway, I’m going to go look around, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing.” Cyrax patted Hanzo’s shoulder a couple of times. “If you need anything, please come find me.”

“Will do.” He bit his lip, and watched as Cyrax walked away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he went to reach into his sleeve to retrieve his phone. He needed to see if the others were ready to meet, and write some notes about his close encounter with the messiah.

Only when he felt where it should have been, it wasn’t there.

He felt a pang of panic wash over him, clawing at the place it should have been. He glanced around the ground, wondering if he'd dropped it somehow. But he couldn’t have. He would have felt it, surely. Probably would have heard it too. Yet it was nowhere to be seen.

Icy fingers clinging to his hand came back to mind.

“Oh no,” he whispered to himself, the horrified realisation at what potentially happened hitting him at once. “But how the hell could he have…”

That didn’t matter. He could figure that out later. Right now, he needed to find Kuai Liang, and make sure his operation wasn’t squashed before it had even begun.

“Tch, what an idiot,” Kuai giggled to himself as he walked along the rooftop, holding his prize, Hanzo’s phone, up in the air triumphantly. A sleeve was such a shitty hiding place. He’d have done better putting it into his underwear than tied to his arm. “Then again, I am the king of contraband. Rookie didn’t stand a chance.”

He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Himself, most likely. Maybe Cetrion. She was probably listening and watching over him, right? Maybe? He didn’t know.

He tilted his head as he looked at the device. He’d seen phones before when looking through the latest confiscations, but this one seemed particularly fancy. As he sat down, he pressed a button on the side, the screen lighting up and showing a picture of a pretty woman.

“Ooh, wonder who she is.” Kuai wasn’t really into women, despite the Grandmaster’s attempts to set him up with a wife. If he had to choose a woman to settle down with though, he could see himself being at least comfortable with one like her.

He had played with a few of the confiscated phones in the past, enough to know he had to make a swiping motion with his thumb to get to the main meat of the device. As he did so, a number pad popped up on the screen with the word “passcode” written above it.

“Drat,” Kuai hissed, noticing a button that said “hint”. He clicked it, hoping it would be something he’d understand, only to huff as he read aloud “Harumi’s birthday? Who the heck is Harumi?”

The thought occurred that was the name of the woman set as the phone’s background. His frustration diminished slightly, as he cancelled the passcode request. He stared at the woman, now dubbed Harumi until he found evidence to the contrary. Clearly she was someone close to Hanzo, if he held her photo so close to him, and made her Birthday his password. She looked too young to be his Mother, but too old to be a daughter, so a sister or wife then?

He idly swiped his finger across the screen, not entirely sure what it would accomplish, until a new screen came up. It took him a few seconds to realise it was a camera.

He gasped slightly. “Awesome!”

He held the phone up, trying to figure out the best shot of the compound. He assumed the big circle on the screen was what he needed to take the photo. He clicked a couple of times, getting different shots of the landscape. For as isolated as this compound was, it was at least surrounded by quite beautiful scenery.

Not that most got the chance to see it. Kuai only had because he was the only person unafraid to clamber onto the rooftops.

“Hmm, what does this button do?” He wondered aloud as he clicked a small button shaped like a more traditional camera, with circular arrows inside it. As soon as he clicked it, he was met with his own face staring back at him. “Oh!” He squealed in excitement, holding out his arm as far as he could to try and get as much of himself in the frame as possible. He began indiscriminately hitting the shutter button, taking photos of himself with all sorts of facial expressions. “Oh, this is such fun! No wonder the outsiders love these things, they’re fantastic!”

He was about to take another couple of photos of himself, when he noticed a strange little pop up at the top of the screen. When he brought it close enough to see, he realised it was a message of some kind.

[JC said: Hey man. We’re gonna meet at the big apple tree.]

Kuai frowned, clicking on the notification, only to be met with the passcode screen again.

“Damn it all!” He let himself flop backwards, looking up at the sky. How could he find out the passcode for this stupid thing? There had to be some way other than just brute forcing it. He could see the blurred picture of the woman in the background and his eyes widened. “If she’s that precious to him, maybe he has some other keepsakes of her.” He shot back upright and exclaimed “Kuai Liang, you are a genius!”

He slipped the phone into his pocket, scrambling to his feet and running as carefully as he could across the roof. Careful, was the keyword. The last time he was a little too heavy footed he wound up falling through to the floor below. The Grandmaster was less than impressed. And given it was before Lady Cetrion’s gift, he had paid dearly for his mistake.

His back stung just thinking about it.

“No, not thinking about that right now.” Really, he never wanted to think about that ever again. Yet his mind always seemed to wander back to it. He knew the torture room was still there, lying untouched in a layer of dust. He’d been in a few times, staring at the implements that just months ago had been frequently used on him.

Sometimes, he held the whip in his hand, almost longing for the sting of it against his skin once more.

Punishment was all he knew. Punishment was all he craved.

“No. Not now. Maybe later,” he hissed to himself as he came to a halt at the edge of the roof.

He held out a hand, concentrating until a bridge of ice began to form. He stepped onto it, before sharply forcing the ice down, and he slid along it until finally he hit the floor.

He brushed himself down. Taking a deep breath and then making his way towards the dorm buildings. As he entered the door he paused for a second, trying to listen and see if anyone else was inside. It sounded empty, but he knew that didn’t always mean it was. Still he walked over towards a bulletin board, quickly glancing down the list of names.

“Ah, there. Hasashi. H.” He pointed at the name and traced across to the room number. “Room 5. Got it.”

Making his way down the corridors, he was careful to peer into every room and make sure they were empty. So far, they seemed to be. It didn’t hurt to be cautious though. He continued, until finally getting to room five. He poked his head around the doorframe, checking if the coast was clear. He let out a sigh of relief when it was.

He quickly entered, glancing around and snorting. The problem with these extremely barebones and unpersonalised quarter’s is that he couldn’t tell which bunk and chest was Hanzo’s. He clicked his tongue. Just standing staring wouldn’t help him, he needed to start digging through the chests to see if he could find a clue.

He went to the first, opening the heavy wood and being thankful the elders insisted on no locks outside of important functions. This chest had very little in it, a few fiction books and that was about it. Granted one looked very interesting, and as he skimmed the writing on the book cover it implied the book was very heavy on the sexual content. He half debated pinching it, but quickly decided against it. If he could figure out whose chest this was, he might be able to slickly persuade them to give it up as a recommendation.

He put everything back, going to the next chest. It was also devoid of anything of interest. It was very much the same for the next 2 chests. He was beginning to wonder if he was hoping for too much, until he opened the 5th chest and a photograph taped to the inside immediately caught his eye.

A photograph of the same woman as the phone’s background.

“Hello,” he drawled, reaching for the small piece of paper and taking a better look at it. It was definitely her, Harumi. In fact, he was almost certain it was the exact same photo, or at least she’d been in a very similar pose. “That’s sad though, does he only have one photograph of her? I have more with Bi-Han, and we’re from an anti-technology society.”

He glanced inside the chest, and it really had nothing all that interesting in it. Just some clothes, a few hair ties and a small notebook. He opened it, but it was completely empty.

Kuai sighed, holding the photo up and staring at it. He almost wished Miss Harumi, whoever she was, could be here to tell him her stupid birthday. It’d make his life so much easier. Suddenly, he got the urge to flip over the photograph, to see if there was anything useful on the back. There, scribbled in pen, was a simple note.

Harumi’s 30th Birthday. 15th April 2020.

“Got it!” Kuai couldn’t help but consider how idiotic it was to have a bit of paper lying around that had your passcode written on it, but that dumb decision had made his life 100 times easier.

So, there were now a couple of choices for what the code was. Given it indicated it was six numbers long, it could either be day month year, or month day year, depending on which way Hanzo wrote it. He supposed year month day was also a possibility. If Miss Harumi was 30 in 2020, that meant she was born in 1990.

To start with, he put in 150590, to no success. Then 051590, and once again it was not accepted.

After he typed in 900515, he found the phone opened to a new screen, with a lot of buttons and options. Got it! Now he just needed to remember that number, 900515.

“I am so smart,” he giggled, as he put the photo back in its place. “No wonder Lady Cetrion chose me if the rest of the world is this dumb.”

Ironic, really, considering he’d spent his entire life being told he was stupid.

Either way, with everything back in place, he didn’t stick around the dorm. He didn’t really feel like explaining to any random recruit why he was snooping around. Hurrying out of the building, he rushed over to the building he’d been sitting atop earlier. He found the gutter that he generally climbed up, making swift work of scaling the building. Once he was on the roof, he sat at the edge, pulling the phone out again.

“9-0-0-5-1-5,” he whispered to himself as he put it into the phone again.

The menu popped up again, and while Kuai wanted to investigate and see what all these buttons did, he first wanted to find out what that message had been about. He clicked the corresponding button, finding that there was only one conversation on it. When he clicked it, he quickly realised there were multiple participants. He scrolled up to the top, but there wasn’t really much.

[S said: Remember to stick to the plan.] [S said: I will attempt to get hold of any sorts of paper work or files they have.] [S said: JX will try to get into any locked rooms, see what they’re hiding in those.] [S said: JC is gonna make good with the members, try to get as much as possible out of them.] [S said: H will document everything, either via photographs, audio or video.] [S said: K is joining us in a couple of weeks, hopefully bringing some supplies depending on what we need.] [S said: We need as much evidence as we can get if we have any hopes of taking these sons of bitches down.] [JC said: Thanks for reminding us of what we talked about 5 seconds before coming here.] [JX said: Also remember to delete all messages at the end of every day. Preferably every hour, to be honest.] [JX said: If any of them manage to get one of our phones, we need as little evidence of a co-ordinated procedure on them as possible.]

“Well, Hanzo screwed that for you already JX.” Kuai rolled his eyes. For all the effort these people went to, you’d think they’d have done a little better at keeping a low profile. Regardless, he continued reading the messages.

[H said: What we really need to try and lean into is the cruelty angle. There have been rumours for years of extreme cases of abuse, we need to expose that first and foremost. Their belief system being a fraud is also important.]

“Fraud? Who are you calling a fraud you bastard?” Kuai hissed between his teeth. He was a lot of things, but a fraud was absolutely not one of them. “And as for the cruelty, I hate to break it to you but you’re about a year too late for that one, dumbass.”

The next message was the one that had popped up earlier, and Kuai was tempted to send his own message. The question was, did he want to play pretend as Hanzo for a while and lead them on or did he want to scare the shit out of them right off the bat by revealing himself. Both options sounded like they could be entertaining to be honest.

He stared across towards the apple tree, spotting three figures standing around underneath it. Kuai smirked to himself, doing a few gestures on the phone until he’d brought up the camera again. He held it up, pointing towards the tree and snapping a picture. He returned to the message thread, selecting a button that looked like a picture and finding all the photos he’d taken came up. It seemed Hanzo had not yet taken any photographs, as only the ones Kuai had taken were there. Regardless he clicked the one he’d just taken, and without typing anything, hit the little arrow button.

[H has sent a photo] [JC said: Uh… Dude? You alright? What’s going on?]

Kuai smirked to himself, clicking on the picture button again. Scrolling through to find his favourite photo of himself. Once he’d found one he liked, one where he was winking and sticking his tongue out, he clicked it and then the send button, excited for the reception he was going to get.

[H has sent a photo] [JC said: What. The. Fuck?] [JC said: What is going on? Dude? H? If you’re there, say something.]

Kuai began kicking his feet as he excitedly chuckled to himself.

This was going to be so much fun.

Hanzo felt like he’d searched the entire compound, short of the private quarters of the cult's elders. He could not find the messiah for the life of him. His gut twisted, terrified he’d been found out already, only hours into arriving. If they found some of what was on there, they’d know he was here to be a whistleblower. At best, he’d be ejected from the compound, and at worst?

Well, he’d likely find out first hand just how cruel the cult could be.

He reached the end of a particularly large building, pulling on his hair as he breathed heavily. He had no idea what to expect. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. How on earth had the messiah managed to grab the phone without him noticing anyway? Regardless of if the messiah stuff was bullshit, Kuai Liang was clearly sneakier than Hanzo gave him credit.

“Looking for something?” A sing-song voice called out to him. Hanzo frowned, it sounded somehow like it had come from above him.

He looked towards the top of the building, where over the edge of the roof, Kuai was sitting with his legs dangling down. He held up one of his hands, and dangling precariously between his fingertips was Hanzo’s phone. Kuai wore a huge grin on his face, clearly aware of the position he had Hanzo in.

“I must say these mobile telephones are fantastic aren’t they? The camera is a lot of fun, I don’t understand why we don’t have them,” Kuai continued like nothing was off about this situation. Like he didn’t hold the power to completely destroy everything Hanzo was working for. “Your messages were very interesting though.” Shit, shit, shit, how the hell has he managed to get in to read the messages? I had a passcode on it. “Oh, by the way, your little entourage is waiting for you over by the big apple tree. They seemed very confused by the photos of myself I sent them from your phone.”

Hanzo didn’t reply, the entire group was potentially rumbled because he’d been careless with his phone. He still did not understand how Kuai could have gotten through the passcode. It was Harumi’s birthday, there was no way Kuai could have known that, or even brute forced it. Outside of going through Hanzo’s belongings, that is.

A photograph he stuck to the inside of his trunk came to mind. A photograph of Harumi, Satoshi and himself celebrating Harumi’s birthday. And he would have written the date on the back.

His face dropped. How the fuck could I have been that stupid? Hanzo had done a lot of foolish things before, but this was beyond the pale. He really had just fucked up their entire investigation.

As he looked up to Kuai Liang, a triumphant grin on the messiah’s face.

“Ah, did it just dawn on you how I figured out your passcode?” Kuai taunted, as despite how light and carefree he sounded, there was a very dark undertone to his voice. “You aren’t very bright, are you?”

“What do you want?” Hanzo snarled. He didn’t understand what Kuai Liang was getting out of this. Surely it’d be more advantageous to him to immediately report this to his elders. Was he really so cruel as to want to taunt someone beforehand?

Kuai actually giggled at Hanzo’s response, leaning over the edge to sneer at him. “I’d be a little more polite if I were you. I might be quite enamoured by this technology, but I’m sure the Grandmaster won’t be quite as thrilled, especially if he reads through your messages.”

“You-“ Hanzo bit his tongue, what the hell was the messiah’s game here? “What are you going to do?”

Kuai tilted his head back and forth, like he was pretending to think really hard about it. The childish taunting action was enough to make Hanzo’s blood boil. He had to remain calm though, remember who he was dealing with. It was well within Kuai Liang’s power to make this 100 times worse for him.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Kuai offered, leaning over the edge just a little further. “You let me keep this fancy bit of technology and I won’t tell the Grandmaster about the little investigation you and your friends are supposedly doing.”

“What? No!” He couldn’t let Kuai Liang keep the phone. He needed it to keep track of his investigation, document and contact the others. He couldn’t just give it to someone else. “I can’t do that.”

“Oh. A shame.” Kuai pouted slightly. “Seems the Grandmaster is going to learn about your little operation here and-“

“Please don’t.” Hanzo had no idea what he was hoping to accomplish by begging. He was just desperate to not get caught.

“Then, let me keep the phone,” Kuai demanded, his voice the most serious Hanzo had heard since he got here. As they stared at each other, Kuai narrowed his eyes. “Let me put it this way, I am going to get this phone either way. It’s just that with one of the choices, I won’t put you and your little friends on the Grandmaster’s shit list.”

Hanzo felt his resolve falter. While he needed the phone, he needed to stay undiscovered more. If giving up the phone would give them a bit more time, then he’d have to do it. They’d be able to come up with another plan for gathering evidence.

“If I agree, you won’t tell anyone?” He questioned, biting back his embarrassment.

“You have my word,” Kuai softly told him, placing a hand over his heart.

“Why though? What will you get out of this?” He just could not understand Kuai’s motives. What he basically had was the ultimate blackmail material. Why was a shiny toy all he wanted in exchange?

“Well, I get this nifty thing for a start,” Kuai replied, holding up the phone triumphantly. He looked genuinely excited to have it. Hanzo supposed for someone who’d been cut off from technology for most of his life, this would be a novelty. “But, I suppose I’m also interested to see what you uncover.” Kuai tilted his head. “And your reactions when you realise I’m not the fraud you think I am.”

Ah. Kuai had definitely looked through all the messages then. Weird that he seemed particularly offended by that word. It did seem to imply that Kuai Liang genuinely believed he was the messiah, and that just made him a lot more dangerous. That thinking was the sort that got people killed. Hanzo only hoped they could figure a way to shut this down before that happened.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, you can have the phone, just, please do not tell anyone why we’re here.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Hanzo.” Kuai pushed himself so he stood up on the edge. “I would go and meet with your friends if I were you, they were quite concerned for your wellbeing.”

Before Hanzo could reply, Kuai turned and disappeared from view as he walked back across the roof. Hanzo just placed his head in his hands, groaning loudly. He wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice, or if he should have ever believed Kuai was telling the truth. But he guessed he’d find out soon enough.

He didn’t wait around, he needed to find the others and explain what had happened. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too angry with him for almost fucking everything up. As he made his way from between the buildings, he saw the tree in question, where Jax, Johnny and Sonya stood under. When they spotted him, all three came over in a half-walk half-jog.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ man,” Johnny exclaimed as he reached them. “We were getting worried about you. Thought they’d got you already.”

“Might as well have,” Hanzo muttered, rubbing his temple. “Somehow, their so-called messiah managed to get my phone off me.”

“That… explains the selfies,” Johnny mumbled, and Hanzo almost did a double take. The idea that Kuai’s first instinct on getting access to the phone was to take photos of himself was inconceivable. Then again he did say he’d sent pictures of himself.

“Did you get the phone back?” Jax asked hopefully.

“No. The best I could do was get him to agree not to tell anyone about it, in exchange for him keeping the phone.” And he realised saying it out loud how dumb it was for him to do that.

“Do you think he’ll keep his end of that bargain?” Jax shifted on his feet, clearly anxious about this turn of events.

“Hard to say. He’s so fucking manic, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.” Hanzo looked over his shoulder, in the distance he could see Kuai Liang still standing on the roof. “I mean, he seemed genuinely enamoured with the phone, so. Maybe.”

He looked back at the three of them, Johnny and Jax seemed a little more relaxed, but Sonya was looking unconvinced.

“Sonya, I’m so sorry,” he started shaking his head. “I just… Fuck, I didn’t know what to do.”

“No, it’s okay. I think given the circumstances you did the best thing,” she admitted, straightening herself out and placing her hands on her hips. “We’re going to need to have a change of plans though. Jax, given you and I are sticking together for most of the time, you might need to give your phone to Hanzo for now. I’ll make sure Kenshi knows that he’ll need to bring an extra when he gets here.”

“Fair enough.” Jax reached into his pocket, passing the phone to Hanzo. “The passcode is 100892.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo breathed out a sigh of relief. Slipping the new phone into his sleeve, he needed to find a way to make sure this one wouldn’t be found. Although maybe Kuai would be sated with just the one. Who knew with him being the way he was.

“As for messaging, we’ll make a new group chat for our plans, but keep the old one open,” Sonya continued and Hanzo couldn’t help but frown at her with that. “It’s a long shot, but maybe Kuai Liang will make some incriminating statements in it.”

Hanzo nodded, that actually made sense. Kuai seemed a little all over the place, and in his excitement over the technology, might very well leave very hard evidence of the cults wrong-doings. He felt the phone vibrate as if on cue. Given Johnny had his phone out, Hanzo didn’t bother to get his. Johnny stared at the phone with an incredulous look on his face.

“Yeah, not sure about that,” Johnny claimed. “He’s just messaged asking if any of us are the owner of the chest with the pornographic novel in it?”

There was silence between the four of them for a few seconds. Sonya eventually sighed.

“Lord give me strength to get through this mission,” she grumbled and Hanzo couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

Whatever God was out there, he could only hope they’d help them get through this in one piece.

[kiteblue42]

Part 5 of - what the heck is going on with Mobius anyway?

S2e6- the one I can’t bear to rewatch

This was a great ending for Loki and appropriately bittersweet - hearing Mobius on the timeline missing him (and all his friends) but knowing they are safe because of what he is doing 😭😢😭. Although I hoped we might get a cute happy ending - this was no where near as terribly bleak as I thought we might be headed at one point.

Though there were quite a few lose ends including some of the themes that did not pay off … Apparently marvel vetoed the original scrip for episode 5 which might explain those (I do wonder why?) I’m sure the internet can speculate 🧐.

I can’t face a rewatch at the moment so from memory….

There are only 2 really important Mobius passages in Ep 6 (which was rightly Loki focussed).

- the historic interrogation room scene

- The final Mobius section

Interrogation room scene

Loki returns to his first conversation with Mobius essentially to get his advice. Mobius is his moral compass he wants to know what he should do.

The upshot is Mobius fundamentally thinks doing the right thing is to accept a burden - it’s not necessarily what you want to do, it’s not what will make you happy but if you don’t do the right thing in Mobius view that is not something he’d be able to bear.

This is important for his ultimate fate because he is not expecting a happily ever after.

Goodbye TVA

All the Mobius content back in the TVA “after” just speaks of someone grieving. Loki is clearly haunting every shot and Mobius can’t move on if he stays there. “You’ll find no comfort at the TVA” from the interrogation scene appears prophetic. He literally sits frozen at his desk when we first see him. His decision to go and look at the timeline is not really because he thinks the others won’t miss him (B15 makes it clear) but it’s also obvious he’s not essential either. It’s because he misses Loki too much and this is one of the last pieces of advice Loki gave him.

The timeline

Back on the timeline he has gone to see what could have been. It’s the good life he predicted, but in the end it’s not as painful as he thought because he can say that’s something he helped to protect. (describing the house as the “best on the block.”) . This reminds me of the end of Dr Strange (mom) where Strange and Wong discuss their alternatives being happy and how that’s a comfort in a way.

Loki’s absence is still felt & not just because Sylvie raises it, but also because of Mobius quoting “never look never know”. It seems to be a positive thing that Loki’s words inspired action here where in the TVA Mobius seemed completely locked in stasis.

“Let time pass”

Well thanks Mobius - what the heck does this mean!?

So in previous posts particularly running up to s2e2 Mobius seemed to be in a bad way. In fact lots of us spotted that Mobius seemed to have a death wish / was primed for some sort of sacrifice. (Falling for a god if you’re a mortal generally goes pretty badly after all).

I read “let time pass” as positive as we can expect - it’s a decision not to stop which I think was a thought lurking in the back of Mobius psyche through both seasons. It’s not yet a positive get out there and live (which Sylvie has chosen). Not yet anyway.

This is consistent with Mobius character- someone who deals with what is put in front of him, accepts it’s not all about happiness or comfort, will accept a burden and ultimately would be proud of Loki’s own sacrifice (and would not want to undermine that).

The writers say it was not a cliffhanger ending (and in general that’s right) but this *did* feel like a cliff hanger - Mobius seems to have chosen not to die but he’s not yet chosen life. He is still “no where man”.

I really really hope we check in on Mobius again in future and see him making some steps back into life.

Thanks to all the bloggers and artists out there for a really fun Loki season 2 - I’ve enjoyed the chaos - hope no one is feeling too despondent!

[princelylove]

Good evening, Your Highness;

If it doesn’t bother you at all (feel free to delete this if it does), may I ask what prompted (motivated even) you to go by such a title? This is merely a curious and honest question rather than one of ill intent. Regardless if you answer or not, I hope your night or day is splendid.

- Sincerely, a curious passerby.

Well. It’s a bit of a long winded answer, since you’d have to take a little looksie into my psyche. 

I’ve always had a particular fascination with names, honorifics, titles, and things just in that category. I’ve also had a big interest in language in general, not just English’s little details, but many others. Many others. Why do I know so much language trivia? When I was a little girl, I’d spend my free time trying to teach myself other languages. Some stuck, some didn’t. That’s just life. And, I’m sure you know, but language has this funny little tool that’s referred to as proper nouns. 

Names have always been a little odd to me. My identity is chosen for me at birth and it makes a sound? What? When I make certain sounds, people will look at me and expect something? What a strange phenomenon, a sound is a piece of my identity and can make me happy or unhappy upon hearing it.

Identity is a very funny thing. Humans are meant to go through phases, of course, to live is to change and to change is to live, but I’ve always had a discomfort with mine. It wasn’t fair. Other girls my age had cute nicknames and wrote their name without hesitation, I just sort of sat there and tried to make it as pretty as I could. I’ve gone through many names before, and I’m still figuring out which one I will call my forever name, but why does Prince feel good? Not as a title, but as a name? Why can't I go by a title, as a name? Some people even take regular words as names, it's so adorable.

Well, of course, there’s the easy answer, which is simply that I have a fetish for being ‘above’ people. Why not go for “God” or “Goddess” instead, though? Well. That just isn’t a name to me, I can’t introduce myself as God without feeling a bit ridiculous. I see that ‘man’ on Sundays, I’m not going to sit in the pews directly in front of a jealous god with the same ‘name.’ Being called one is always fun, I do enjoy being called divine, but it just doesn’t feel like my name. 

The long answer is as follows. 

What is a birthright? If you were like me, you probably learned the word from being heavily obsessed with a certain tactical role-playing game series known as Fire Emblem in 2015. It didn’t really hit me at the time, when I see a word I don’t know, I normally would just pull out this thick dictionary I received when I was tiny. It’s probably outdated, but it told me the understanding I have of the word now: birthright is what an individual acquires through nothing else but being born. It can be a possession, a certain privilege, it can even be a right to citizenship in certain contexts. Why bring it up when I’m talking about names, though? 

My birthright is what sets a prince apart from her peons. Do the divine have such a concept? Not at all. Divinity has no possessions. I do, and I love them very dearly. Hi, possession reading this. 

I feel a lot of identity in being a prince, in having a natural place. I’m not claiming to have an actual birthright to anything, but it’s nice to think about something being mine simply because I came into life one day two decades ago. But why Prince, specifically? 

Well! It’s about feelings. Vibes. The emotion it inflicts. When I say Princess, what do you think of? A damsel in a tower? Someone who has the misfortune of being married off for political gain? Big, poofy dresses and talking to animals? 

I suppose I have mixed feelings about it. I don’t consider myself to be very masculine, but I’ve been told I act like it- subconscious associations with authority being masculine, perhaps. But I’ve never felt masculine, despite being told it over and over again. I don’t reject my masculinity, it’s just that… It doesn’t exactly feel like me. By that logic, Princess should be my name and I should’ve gone with that, but I didn’t. 

Did you know that in Arabic, ‘he’ is thought of as gender neutral? Most masculine English words are just gender neutral to me. They’re not truly masculine, they’re just a different role, a different position. Princesses don’t do the same thing Princes do, and that isn’t a gender association “women be pretty and men work” thing, that’s just a role thing. Both of those titles are merely jobs to me. Women can be kings and princes and men can be princesses and queens, because all four of those titles are jobs. 

What do you think of when you think of something as being “princely”? 

I tend to think of duty before anything else. Chivalry, politics, it’s all lesser than duty. You are meant to do simply one thing as a prince, and that is prepare to rule. It is just one thing, and to state the obvious, I love the idea. 

Why not “King” then? Well, I’m too young. My vessel is merely two decades old. It would be sad if I were king at such an age, if you’ll forgive my childish wording. Certainly not “Queen” for the same reason, with an added distaste for being called the word. 

I’ve always felt a bit of a pull towards princely things. Characters, roles, etc. I want to say I had this pivotal moment in my life where “Prince” just stuck to me, but it’s really just a pile of things over the course of my life. But there has been one quote that’s really been stuck in my head.

“This spoiled little prince loves to play around with (her) toys.” From Nintendogs. Yes, yes, I know. Of all things. It’s a personality type that pops up when looking at dogs you could possibly have. The words we use to describe things… sometimes we use words that are seemingly unrelated but when strung together, make perfect sense- because it’s just a feeling. As a writer, I’m meant to be able to work with such silly things. This spoiled prince loves his toys. What does that mean about a dog? What does that mean about a person?

To be entirely honest with you, I'm still a bit childish. I’m young, I have an excuse. This spoiled prince loves his toys- what does that even mean, as a person? I love toys? I love dolls, I love stuffed animals? I suppose I do, but it’s not what I think of. 

I am spoiled in the sense that I know no other way of life. I am a prince in the sense of how I act, how I look, how I think. I whine when I must brush my hair and I loathe doing my own nails, but I’m able to make big decisions quickly and efficiently. I will not bend when you push me, but I am not meant to hold a sword or do housework. I’m meant to be pampered, meant to be doted on, but I am not in need of anyone else to think for me. Such is the life of a spoiled prince that loves her toys, and merely wants to play as much as she can. 

I’ve always hated being forced to take up a certain role in relationships- I’m not protective, I’m not strong, I’m not the type of individual that will always hold the door for you. I may grab an extra glass for you, or give you a blanket, but I’m not the type of person who lives for someone else. I’m no knight, I am no squire. I am a spoiled, pampered prince, who is happiest with her toys and other playthings, sometimes called knights or lucky peons. You, as an anon, are my toy of the hour.

So why Prince, when princes are normally associated with such things? A “princely” woman is normally an attractive, masculine woman- think Haruka Tenou or Utena Tenjou. I’m nothing like them, yet I chose “Prince” over “Princess.” Why do I have identity in the word if the feeling simply isn’t there, why do I feel a pull towards "princely" things if I don't feel like I act like the traditional sense of the word?

“Prince” just doesn’t mean that to me. My duty isn’t to protect anyone, it isn’t to play lowly knight and serve. It isn’t in my nature to be chivalrous, I’m rather cold and uninviting- as charming as I find myself, I'm just not the type that pulls out chairs. You do that for me. I’m ambitious, I want what I want and it'll be mine one way or- no, the one way. I enjoy exploring different strategies and mind games- my curiosity kills me, I'll spend hour after hour figuring out what works and what doesn't. Why not become king one day, and fulfill my duty as prince, when I know I'll flourish in such a position? A position that demands my cutthroat nature, that begs for my calculations?

But I digress. I suppose I just like it, specifically. This spoiled, pampered prince just loves to play with her toys, and loves the indulgence from her peons.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Do you think Kevin would be mad that the people in Night Vale are only worshipping a metaphorical smiling God?

Hi! Good question! Well, first (and this could be your phrasing, so excuse me!) the Congregation in NV /does/ worship a literal Smiling God, it's the 'devouring' part they've chosen to interpret as non-literal. And the religion itself? It's kind of weird. I've ranted a lot about Kevin and the fact he likely invented this whole thing and then Strex got hold of it too and made it worse so I won't go too much into that. I just want to say a couple of things - for Kevin it's clearly a profound and very real spiritual belief. It was probably also this to those in DB and the few citizens of NV who worshipped a Smiling God too. For Strex it was more of a way to make a cult around themselves and restrict people's lives to being all about them and their views even more. We know the Congregation seems unsure about what a Smiling God really is and this is because Kevin himself was pretty vague about it too (if that is, he was the founder anyway and not just somebody who added a lot to it). His 'holy book' is just notes on a giant centipede that he's choosing to call a Smiling God but he's also worshipped the genuine Smiling God which was a light in the Desert Otherworld and spoken of a Smiling God which had a long fleshy tongue and teeth. It's this version (tongue and teeth version) which gives us a clue as to what Kevin sees a 'devouring' as useful for. He speaks with relish and happiness about the idea that a Smiling God will devour a person's 'imperfect self' leaving only the perfect self behind. Now, this is all very vague and up to interpretation. If he wants the perfect self to be left behind, he could mean it non-literally (as in, if you worship a Smiling God, you will become perfect), or he could believe that there is a way for a Smiling God to simply but literally 'devour' a part of a persons psyche whilst leaving the rest. Or he could mean that your perfect self can only exist elsewhere once all of your physical self is devoured. Again, he speaks of it so broadly it's difficult to tell. He certainly wants some kind of devouring. Or did. The thing about Kevin now is that he's with Charles. Charles is a theologist. It's kind of his job to question things about any religion (well, not just that or specifically that but I don't want to ramble on) which is good for Kevin because if Charles starts to question his religion, /Kevin will listen/. Kevin, who has already had doubts, will be encouraged to properly fine tune this weird and kind of non-specific dogma he's invented. This might include any number of interpretations of the 'devouring' part of his beliefs. Sidenote: Considering only Pastor Munn(+simp) believed in a literal devouring, based on the book they didn't share with anyone being about a literal beast which is probably not a Smiling God, I kind of lean towards them having a unique and unintended interpretation. So long as people continue to worship a Smiling God, and to believe in the specific things he considers to be important virtues (family, community etc), and to believe in a kind of Devouring, I think he'd be fine. Or at the very least, just view them as their own 'branch' of his religion which I think Kevin would find pretty neat. He's got a bit of an ego it turns out, so I think he'd be happy to have further inspired a wider interpretation of his beliefs so long as they don't deviate too much further.

[handsomeamoeba]

here’s an ask: i know nothing about dragon age outside of what i glean from the context of your posts and what i know from the two friends i have who religiously cosplay two gay dudes from it (Iron Bull and Dorian I think? i am assuming this is the same dragon age but again i know nothing about this except what i have jigsawed for myself). here’s the thing though. i don’t want to actually understand dragon age or be told the plot, i just want to know how you would explain it to me if you were only giving me the most unhinged, no-questions-asked, speed summary possible. preferably raising more questions than it answers.

Okay here's a rundown of all three games from start to finish:

there's an ambiguously possibly undead horde threatening the safety of the world. the common myth is that they're like that because god hates them. only one group of people knows how to kill them, they're an ancient noble apolitical paramilitary society. the cartoon supervillain of this game lets the undead horde win a battle so he can become king despite the fact that his of-age daughter was already the queen consort. anyway, the last survivors of that battle gotta run around convincing a bunch of people to fight alongside them while the cartoon supervillain tries to have you killed. you solve a bunch of political disputes you have absolutely no business resolving because nobody's pressed about the advancing *possibly* undead army until their personal shit is resolved because by sheer coincidence at the exact moment you need political support nobody has their shit together. in the end you kill a big fuckoff dragon who is also possibly undead who is also a god depending on who you ask, and then you either die or you don't die because you fucked a witch or convinced your ally to fuck a witch.

at the same time this is happening, a family flees the advancing undead horde and goes to a city state across the sea founded on slavery that has absolutely no decorum whatsoever about just... not being shy about that past. for some ungodly reason they think this city is the key to a happy fresh start. psych! cue one guy (or gal) having just the worst 6-7 years of their life surrounded by a group of the most dysfunctional bisexuals (and one heterosexual you have to spend $7 extra dollars on) you have ever met in your life. you make frequent trips to the brothel. often to solve murders. no less than two of your friends literally live at the bar. despite being just a wreck of a person who keeps the shiftiest company people keep coming to you for sociopolitical advice until oops! one of your friends starts a fucking war.

a war which you basically resolve in the first act of the next game. you are now some poor unlucky fuck who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now everybody thinks god sent you to save them, despite the fact that 3 out of 4 of your protagonist options comes from a culture that traditionally does not believe in that god at all. you are given very little room to voice the discrepancy of this. anyway, as the chosen of a god who may or may not exist you are pitted against a new cartoon supervillain, and this guy is one of the guys who caused god to hate the possibly undead horde in the first place, MAYBE. he says that god isn't real but also who fucking knows. you have to run around using the fucking hole in spacetime he ripped open in your hand to close holes in spacetime everywhere else. you also have to fucking... end the French civil war, save the aforementioned apolitical military force from themselves... and then the real villain was the friends we made along the way.

and also, for a game called dragon age, in 2/3 of the games, the dragons are completely optional.

[thwip--thwip]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @yes-i-am-happyaspie !

How many works do you have on AO3?

In total, 24; 15 on my Irondad pseud, 9 on my legacy pseud.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

128, 654

What fandoms do you write for?

At present, I’m only really active in the MCU/Irondad fandom; but I’ve written in the past for Marvel, Sherlock, Deadpool, TASM, Supernatural, Glee, Doctor Who, & Psych.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Peter Parker’s Night Clinic for Kinda Crappy, Accidental Superheroes (3,149)

2. the world is not kind (2,013)

3. chosen family (1,200)

4. MTBI (977)

5. every day, every hour (turn that pain into power) (908)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! For the most part. At a certain point I fall behind in responding and always feel a little awkward responding to older comments (a pleasant shyness); but I read all of them and deeply appreciate every single one.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think my answer to that might be different than other people’s answers! I’d probably say count to ten; it’s a fill I wrote for the Whumptober 2019 prompt ‘shaky hands’, primarily from Tony’s perspective, post-Snap.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happy in tone, or in what happened? I like to think all of my fics end on the happiest note possible; I can’t stomach bad endings. Put em through hell, but make it worth it at the end.

I’d still have to say the world is not kind. It’s the way I choose to believe Endgame ended (until I get around to writing that giant fix-it).

Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I’ve noticed. Occasionally people will get a little pointed, but I try not to take anything personally; I’m just glad they got to the end and were moved by it enough, in whatever way they were moved, to comment.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have written smut, primarily M/M, but only rarely in my published fics.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I’ve written crossovers; I’d like to write more of them eventually. The craziest one was The Adventures of Dean Winchester & Friends, for the SuperWho Big Bang 2012. It was ridiculous, self-indulgent crack. We’ve all been there.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Surprisingly yes! I was honored and pleasantly bewildered. Peter Parker’s Night Clinic for Kinda Crappy, Accidental Superheroes was translated into Suomi (Finnish).

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not had the pleasure! I’d really love to, I think that would be a unique experience and I love collaborative art.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

Oh god all time?? I presume romantic and not platonic ships, but I’ll give both. Romantic has to be Sterek, once a Teen Wolf girlie, always a Teen Wolf girlie. Platonic is Irondad, bar none.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It’s a threeway tie between the sequel to the world is not kind, my Pepper Potts character study piece, and the Infinity War / Endgame rewrite. Of the three, that last one has the least words put to page; but never say die, I still chip away at them all.

What are your writing strengths?

I can write a good emotional through-line. I like to call it emotions porn. Description has never been my issue, and commas love me.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing action, or solid plot. I’m not much of a mastermind, so I have a hard time with penning longer works.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it before when necessary; I’m forced to use Google Translate but if anyone ever wants to correct me I know it’s probably wrong! 🤣

First fandom you wrote for?

Since the site is gone from the face of the earth, I’ll tell you. Jonas Brothers RPF.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

the world is not kind would have to be my pick ❤️

Tagging: @blondsak @euphoric-melancholyy @fourdaysofrain @reachingforaspark

[nausikaaa]

15 questions, 15 people

rules: answer these 15 questions then tag 15 people

thanks for tagging me @asocialpessimist!

1. Are you named after anyone?

not exactly, but my initials were chosen to be the same as my dad’s and my grandad’s.

2. When was the last time you cried?

oh man i cry all the time, movies and books and music can all make me cry. but the last time i cried was a tiny bit at work when i thought too hard about the goddess Psyche.

3. Do you have kids?

no, maybe one day.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

i wouldn’t say a lot. i do sometimes, mostly either joking around with my friends or when people are being dicks at work. my boss finds it hilarious when i argue back with customers.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

i’m not really sure, but i guess i do always notice if someone smells particularly bad. especially if they stink of weed, god i hate that. i have nothing against people smoking it but don’t walk into a small building if you smell that strongly of it, you ruin it for everyone. i will instantly dislike you for that.

6. What's your eye color?

dark grey-blue.

7. Scary movies or happy ending?

happy endings!

8. Any special talents?

not sure if it’s really a talent but i can make my eyeballs vibrate. you have to look close to see it but it always freaks people out 😂

9. Where were you born?

in a hospital not too far from where i live, so you’ll forgive me for not sharing specifics.

10. What are your hobbies?

reading, writing, and making candles/wax melts.

11. Do you have any pets?

2 dogs and 4 goats!

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

i go swimming fairly often in the summer but that’s about it. i used to really enjoy dodgeball at school though!

13. How tall are you?

five foot one 😭

14. Favorite subject at school?

either history or english. When i got to sixth form and could take classics i was over the moon, it’s like the best of both!

15. Dream job?

a successful author. failing that, a mortician. not exactly similar…

tag @martsonmars @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ileadacharmedlife @otherpeoplesheartachept1 @dreamingkc @confused-bi-queer @forabeatofadrum @bazzybelle @raenestee @upuntil6am @facewithoutheart @sunshinesalmon @theearlgreymage @nonbaznary and @shrekgogurt!

[number63liveblogs]

Nona the Ninth: 30

For some reason this tower scared Nona’s top and bottom thoughts so terribly that her heart went ker-CHUNK in her chest[.]

There has always been some fracture in Nona’s psyche, what with the knowledge she has and all, but I think this is the first time we’ve had attention drawn to it so explicitly. And considering that both options of what the top and bottom thoughts could be (Harrow and Gideon, or Harrow-and-Gideon and Alecto) have bad associations with the Ninth House I don’t know which one it is.

“Nona,” they said, “Noodle’s in the back.”

The middle thoughts surged. The slit widened all the way.

“Oh my God,” she said, in a panic. “I forgot about Noodle.”

And then the only reason Nona didn’t kill herself and everyone else in the truck was because it would have killed a dog too. Although I am absolutely certain that she wouldn’t have done it if Paul had told her they didn’t want to die, out of her love for Camilla and Palamedes.

It’s also such a good parallel with what happened with them. Camilla and Palamedes could have chosen to die as their separate people, but instead they made the choice to create Paul. But Paul clearly likes being alive, and I bet that Camilla and Palamedes would have endorsed the creation of Paul if they had the choice.

But I don’t think Alecto is happy to be Alecto, and Nona doesn’t endorse what Alecto is going to do. Because it’s very likely that Alecto is going to hurt people that Nona loves, to get to John.

[agallimaufryofoddments]

Hypothetically Heckling Hyperbolically

Scene: If Huey had been a couple years younger and able to overhear Ronny and Elmer’s peri-drowning conversation...

⁂

(TL;DR)

Ronny: Magic mirror of the sea, who is the unlikeliest to smile besides me?

Huey: Me.

Elmer: True that. Psyche! It’s me.

Ronny: Shit.

Elmer: Cope. I do. Anyway, you’re going to make Maiza smile, and you’re gonna like it. You’ll like it till you drop dead from smiling!

⁂

Ronny: Mortal, I can grant you power beyond your wildest dreams. Perfect immortality. Freezing time. Extreme farsightedness. Command over the human race. Money go brr. Anything. Anything! Think big. Bigger. BIGGER. Think deep.

“After thinking for a little while...”

Elmer: s m i l e

Ronny: Elaborate.

Elmer: Laugh from the bottom of your heart, at the top of your lungs, like you’re having fun, like you’re overjoyed. Woo me like one of your French girls, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, lips parted just so in the latest fashion of joie de vivre. Tell me how you smile, you who are called a demon, and what makes you really and truly happy.

Ronny: What? No. Who are you.

Huey: Addict. Smile Junkie. Joyster.

Ronny: Listen. Before you are two buttons. The red one can get you permanently clean on the spot. The blue one gets you a one-time BSOD except the :( is a :). Choose wisely.

Elmer: :)

Ronny:

Ronny: This is the most difficult, most challenging, most unfeasible wish ever asked of me. You ask for what is impossible now, nigh impossible in the near future, and forever the unlikeliest of the unlikely to occur.

Huey: Oh, God, don’t encourage him.

Elmer: so what I’m hearing is that there’s a chance

Huey: Elmer, remember when I asked you “would a man who had no personal experience with happy smiles be able to give them to others?” and you went ‘point taken?’ Think carefully.

Elmer: So, what you want to do, Ron, what you do in this sort of situations is you attach yourself to someone else in similar smileless straits, straits sans smiles to quote your French girls, and you make them your pet—pet project, yeah, and you just, you know, do what it takes until they give you a laugh right from the gut. Ron, I betcha anything you’ll be able to smile after that, I mean, we’re talking my tried and true methods here. And partner, if we reunite, smile then, because you owe me—I love ya, Ron, but I’ll find you, and you’d better be glad that you met me again. ‘I can smile now! How d’ya like them apples?!’ …I’ll even take a reason like that, so please, show me your smile.

Ronny: Methods?

Huey: His only one.

Ronny: Has it ever worked?

Huey: No.

Elmer: It worked on you.

Huey: You know which party he meant.

Elmer: Look, I was going to suggest that Ronny stick close to Maiza, what with the dead brother and other dead so-and-sos being a real bummer and all, but... I guess I could wish for Ronny to tag alone with me until I smile for real instead...

Ronny: Wait. Hold on. Wait, demon, there’s still time to change my wish—I hadn’t pressed it y—Maiza! I wish for Maiza! My mind is made up.

Elmer: Ah, you’ve chosen the blue button after all. I figured you would. 

Huey: Dare I ask why you didn’t wish for my smile?

Elmer: Well... When weighing my options, I like to choose the one that has the highest chance of succeeding.

Huey: So that’s why you didn’t wish for a genuine smile to call your own, Mr. Empty Ending?!

Elmer: Words can’t hurt me :). Not if I’m empty, right? You should try it sometime oh wait you are. What was that about failed methods, again? Cheer up! You know you want to you. You’ll never best me in the sans émotions racket, so you may as well give up and smile. Come on. Give up. Embrace failure. It’s futile to grieve the dead, but to be so delusional as to try and Lazarus-Frankenstein your wife when not even Ronny can? Move on. Smile for me like your French mother.

Ronny: Mortal, heed me as I literally drown out your words via an ocean of hurt.

Elmer: Huey’s mom :) would know  :) a thing or two about that :). Hey, Huey, look to your right, I think I can see Monica from here! Smile and wave!

Huey: The line is breaking up—sounds—gargling?—can’t hear—

Elmer: Remember, demon, that with but a smile you summon meeeee!