#it’s more like she’s fulfilling an expectation (self imposed? imposed by others? maybe the latter at one point and then the former?)

[moviebunny]

I think Ragatha has an eldest sibling vibe about her but I might be projecting lmao

[lov3nerdstuff]

I Found {Part 2}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 2/8

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream

A.N.: So... This might get a little longer than expected 😅 already have written four parts and there's still more to come. But it's gonna be a ride for sure 😁💗

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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With the panting guards trailing vaguely behind him, Loki strode into the throne room without awaiting as much as an announcement. He wanted to stay on the king's good side, but he was done pretending to enjoy it.

"My king, I bring you your selected girl." He spoke loudly, with determination but without smiles. Doing this was difficult, even for someone as practiced in ignoring his own conscience as Loki was.

"You return sooner than expected, my friend!" The king laughed and heaved himself out of his jeweled throne to take the few steps down towards Loki. Once both men stood facing each other, with your unconscious form still resting securely in Loki's arms, the king gazed down at you with a vicious smirk.

"Oh, how I have longed for this one…" He sighed almost affectionately and reached one podgy finger out towards your bruised cheek. Loki's stomach flipped almost violently and he had to bite down the prominent sickness arising from the very bottom of it.

"My king…" He spoke quickly, before the man would lay his hands upon you. Somehow he found the thought impossibly hard to bear. Indeed the king withdrew his hand and glared at Loki instead. "...what am I to do with her now?"

"Hand her over to the guards and you're free to go." The king sighed heavily, moving back towards his throne with one last disgustingly hungry gaze at your small form in Loki's arms.

"I… Eh, your highness, I think the guards have exhausted themselves quite enough for the day and I would feel most miserable imposing this task on them. Let me take her where she needs to be, let me see this done. Correctly. To… to prove to you my unyielding loyalty." Loki practically disgorged the words, bowing a little just to emphasize his point.

"You really are serious about completing your task to my fullest contentment, aren't you, little god?" The king chuckled and Loki had to smile to keep his jaw from clenching in anger. He didn't know where this protectiveness over you was coming from so suddenly, so maddeningly intense, but he was not ready to surrender you to these people just yet. The faint warmth of your body had started seeping through the thick fabric of his garments a good while back, mingling with your sweet scent to wrap around his senses, and it had something so incredibly calming, so alluring…

"Absolutely, your majesty." Loki replied with a dashing smile, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly. Obviously his entire being was working against his reason now, lovely… He had agreed with himself that he needed to get rid of you, and yet here he was begging to keep you a little while longer if only to make sure you weren't violated. Things weren't going well for either of you.

"So it be, then. You may take her there yourself, as you have thus far not disappoint me. To the baths in the East wing. Someone will meet you there to see things through."

"Thank you, your majesty." Loki replied politely, but as soon as he turned to leave, he was kept from leaving yet again.

"I assume you understand what happens to those who try to take what is mine? Who lay hand on what it not for them to touch?" The croaky tenor voice made the hairs in Loki's neck stand up in an instant.

"Yes, your majesty." He replied ever so calmly, even though it cost him quite a lot to keep his calm indeed, to keep his voice from dropping an octave in grave severity. With every word and every action he got himself deeper into this mess, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't hand you over, couldn't bring himself to be this cruel even if it would be to his own advantage. But he could shut up for now, and that's what he did.

Without another word Loki made his way out of the hall and down the tunnels towards the baths. This time it was only two guards following him with every step he took, and Loki almost laughed at their faces for seriously believing that they could keep him from doing as he pleased. He didn't feel like laughing though, not even like lifting the corner of his lips out of the grim line they were presently forming.

After a few sharp turns and almost getting lost once, he finally reached the medium sized hall that served as a bath for the inhabitants of the palace. A few natural pools lined the room, along with a couple hot springs and a very cold and very shallow lake. Loki had never liked the place, he prefered not to be exposed to the eyes of others. Maybe his physique being compared to Thor's more often than not in their youth had made him rather self-conscious when it came to nudity. The people of Underworld didn't seem to mind naked skin though, and Loki constantly had to remind himself not to wrinkle his nose in mild disgust.

Now, as he walked into the hall with your additional weight making his footsteps more audible than he was used to, his eyes scanned the room for whoever should be waiting for him here. He almost believed the cavern to be empty, until his gaze fell upon an elderly woman, stout and red-faced, but less vile looking than most other inhabitants of the palace.

She approached Loki with slightly skipping steps.

"My goodness, did you carry her all the way here?" She shrieked as she motioned for Loki to put you down on a flat surface laid out with various furs of a size that had Loki wondering which animals would be large enough to have called this skin their own. After a second of hesitation he obliged, and gently put you down, soft furs brushing against the freezing skin on his knuckles while his fingertips fanned across your soft skin. He shouldn't touch you, and even less enjoy doing it.

"I did indeed." He replied quietly, looking down at your crouched form being illuminated by the many torches attached to the walls. The caverns were brighter than the tunnels at least, making him feel less in touch with the darkness within him.

"Such a lucky girl… The guards usually aren't that gentle with them." The woman sighed as she dug out a bottle with a deep red liquid from her bag, before she looked straight at Loki. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Hm? Oh, no…" He mused, offering her a half smile and taking a few steps backwards. Behind him the guards turned to leave as well, he heard them retreating without even bothering to look. He couldn't tear his eyes off you, couldn't bring himself to leave. Leaving would've felt like a betrayal, for he knew that if he left now, a little piece of his morality would wilt and die alongside you in these crude caves. Maybe even a huge part. Being here still gave him the illusion that he hadn't completed the evil that had been asked of him, that he still could redeem himself. That you weren't lost just yet.

"Isn't she a pretty one indeed?" The old woman asked suddenly, sensing Loki's presence even though he had retreated all the way into the shadows on the other end of the empty cave.

"Maybe. I haven't noticed." Loki lied easy enough, in a more sincere calm. Being alone with only you and the old woman somehow made him feel more secure than with the guards around.

"You shouldn't lie to an old woman. We elderly folks hear enough lies from our friends, don't need any more from our fiends." She chuckled as she moved about your motionless body, making you drink the red liquid carefully. Loki found himself sauntering closer again before he could bring up the will to stop himself.

"I'm not your enemy." He replied in honest interested to make her believe his words. The way she cared for you made him certain that she might be the closest thing to an actual decent person in this godforsaken place. Well, not godforsaken enough, as the one god who currently resided here was trying to escape. But that wasn't the point.

"You brought another innocent soul for our king to devour, didn't you?" She asked calmly, looking at Loki only long enough for him to see that she didn't judge him. Not really.

"I did." He replied more quietly than he wanted to. But the weight of admitting it out loud added another boulder to his heart, another arrow to his back. "And it makes me no better than the devourer of souls himself."

"But you are still here, aren't you?" She smiled, making you drink the last of the red liquid.

"Was that the antidote?" He asked curiously, coming to stand almost directly next to you once more.

"It was indeed. Should be very few minutes until she wakes up, now." She turned around to Loki with the kindest expression he had been given in a long time. "What's your name, dear?"

For a moment Loki debated with his reason if he really should stay here, and if he should be talking to the old woman. People back at home would have considered her a witch most likely, and that alone made Loki like her a little more already. "My name is Loki of Asgard."

"Well, Loki of Asgard, since you are not going to leave anyway, you may as well help me with her." She said easily, sitting down on a large rock with a small groan, and Loki found himself inclined to agree. He hadn't left when he was supposed to, so now he was certain that he wouldn't leave at all. Before long, the woman continued. "They usually either cry once they realize what is happening or they go for the run. And in the latter case I'm not of much use. Usually the guards will bring them back here within minutes, but therefore with more bruised skin than I could possibly heal. Yet, I am under the impression that you might not want said harm to come to this girl, so it would be quite lovely if you could keep her from running when she wakes up. Do you know her name?"

"Y/n." He replied while his eyes were fixed on your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Somehow, the sight had something deeply calming. "What will happen to her now, after she's awake?"

"She will be kept in confinement until her spirits are broken, so she won't try to flee anymore or hurt herself or other. And she will be trained until she has mastered her art." The elder sighed sadly, following Loki's gaze to your fluttering lashes.

"Her art?"

"She needs to learn how to please a man, how to please the king before she may be of service to him."

Loki's jaw clenched and his brows furrowed into a deep frown, but he didn't word his disgust nor his refusal to see this plan put into action. He should be working on his plan to escape… not on a plan to save you. If he kept on thinking like this, if he kept on actually seeing all the horrible things happening around him currently, he would really lose his mind.

Ignorance and denial had kept him wrapped in a blissful fog, but then you had literally fallen into his arms… and you had become his focal point to navigate through the haze, so he wouldn't lose sight of what he truly wanted. To escape from this living hell.

Short moments later you stirred, breath hitching as your eyes flew open with a start. You gasped, then turned your head to stare at Loki and the old lady with a shocked gaze.

And Loki almost would've gasped as well, for he had never seen eyes quite like yours, so deep and full of the universe's greatest mysteries. Of joys and tragedies unfathomable to anyone but you. He was drawn in immediately, immensely, impossibly…

"Hello Y/n, dear…" The old woman said with a soft smile.

"No…" You breathed, eyes widening even more as you looked around in the cave. "No no no…"

And with a start, you jumped to your feet and bolted towards the exit so quickly that your movements became blurred to the eye. Yet, Loki was quicker both in reaction and running and caught up with you after half the distance, wrapping his arms around your small form tightly.

"Let me go!" You screamed and thrashed wildly into the open air, actually managing to get one or two decent hits against Loki. He was impressed, but not surprised.

"We won't harm you, dear, please stop fighting." The older woman spoke calmly as Loki carried you back towards her. He couldn't help but feel even more intrigued by you now that you were awake, even if you were currently struggling against him with every power possible. Still, holding you with your back pressed to his chest and your arms pinned to your sides was not even close to a real challenge. But he was fairly certain though that you would pose a serious threat to anyone who didn't possess godly strength.

"Who are you? Where am I?" You asked defensively as Loki dropped you off on the thick furs yet again.

"Calm down, dear… You are safe with us. You're in the palace. The king chose you as his newest companion." The old woman stated calmly, sitting up a little straighter on her rock. She also seemed to have done this more than a couple times… And she didn't need to say any more, for you understood the situation you were in as if it was the most familiar idea to wrap your mind around.

"I'm his newest plaything? That means I'll be dead in a couple weeks, doesn't it?" You asked gravely as you hugged your arms to your chest in an attempt to keep in the little warmth left in your body.

"Of course not!" The old woman said with risen eyebrows.

"Yes it does." Loki replied a second later, opting for honesty at least once and earning himself a side glance from the lady on the rock.

"Let me guess, if I try to run, you'll catch me before I ever reach that exit?" You asked sadly, looking directly at Loki and causing his heart to skip a beat. He cursed his body for betraying him, but at least it didn't show.

"Unfortunately, yes." He replied as stoically as possible, averting his gaze after a moment, for he couldn't bear the sadness in your eyes, the knowledge that you were doomed. And that he was the reason for it.

"Running has no use, and neither has fighting. I'm sorry, dear, that this had to happen to you." The old lady spoke in a sigh as she rose to her feet and walked the two steps over to you to pat your shoulder in what probably should've been a comforting gesture. Loki didn't think it comforted you at all, and thus he decided to stay back where he was, silent.

"Can I at least know your names?" You requested quite calmly for someone who had just learned that their life had basically found a very stretched out ending. But an ending nonetheless. "You seem to know that my name is Y/n… And I would like to know the names of the people who greeted me here with kindness."

Yet again Loki frowned, wondering why you would say such thing, without sarcasm. He wasn't being kind, he was helping a tyrant get his way for the mere skimpy promise of freedom. No, Loki didn't feel kind at all, he only felt cold.

"I'm Agatha, your lady's maid and keeper. And that tall fellow is Loki. He brought you here." The old lady said easily and Loki immediately wished she hadn't, for your eyes snapped to his in an instant, filled with irritation and confused anger.

"YOU brought me here?!" You asked incredulously, frowning at him deeply but luckily without trying to fight this time. "But… why are you still here then? You must be one of the king's friends if he assigned you a task like this, or rather a chess piece he's not sacrificed yet, and that means you most likely were promised a reward for bringing me here. Won't you go and collect it already? Turn your back to the misery that you caused, like everyone else living in the palace? Let me ask… what is your reward? Gems? A girl for yourself? Or power maybe? I hope it's at least something that weighs up to my life's value."

Loki's words died on his lips as they dropped open a little, until his mind caught up with the questions and he had found the capability to suppress the emotions your words had stirred up within him. He shouldn't let himself get dragged into this… he should just leave and forget indeed. But he couldn't. "You know my name, that's more than enough power you hold over me. You needn't know my reasons in addition." Yes, that surely was the most imprecise answer he could've given, and Loki felt relieved. He didn't want you to know about his immense internal turmoil, hoping that things would just untangle themselves eventually if he kept ignoring them long enough.

"Don't be so hard on him, dear… He kept you safe for all the long way here, and that's more than the girls before you had. They arrived here in the worst conditions, believe me… Loki is a decent man." The old woman, Agatha, said gently as she kept patting your arm.

"You know nothing about me." Loki snapped defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at her. She couldn't possibly know anything about him, right? But he had kept you safe indeed, and he intended to continue to do so as long as he could.

"Yeah, he's lovely." You snorted sarcastically, looking at Loki with a risen eyebrow and then turning to Agatha. "But I must agree, I would not have expected to arrive here unharmed."

"I would hardly call those bruises on your face and shoulders 'unharmed'..." Loki commented, cringing at his utter inability to keep his mouth shut for once.

"But you didn't cause them, did you?" You asked in a surprisingly steady voice as a violent shiver made your entire form shake.

"Of course not." He replied in an instant, frowning deeply. Maybe he was a horrid person by character, but never one to cause harm to the innocent.

Agatha ordered you to wash yourself then, in that freezing shallow puddle in the middle of the cave, while she herself went to retrieve some garments for you. She also spoke the carefully worded reminder to you not to come close to the natural pools, for it was forbidden for anyone of the servant status to take a bath in those. Loki only frowned at that yet again, for he saw absolutely no reason behind such a silly rule. He didn't see much sense behind most rules, actually, and that's precisely why he usually didn't follow them.

"You shouldn't listen to her." He said to you out of impulse as you rose to your feet and made your way over to the edge of the water. Small ice crystals floated on the surface of the deep blackness, dancing slowly in the small waves your movements caused. Loki continued before he became completely mesmerized by the sight. "You're freezing anyway, and this water will make it far worse. Then you will fall ill, and as I was informed prior to this instance, the king does not hesitate to get rid of… broken toys."

"Well, all the better for me." You shrugged easily as you turned your back towards him and started peeling your clothes off, upon which Loki averted his gaze immediately, focusing very intently on a spot on the opposite wall. "I'll die in these caverns anyway, sooner rather than later. And if I freeze to death now, at least I won't have to bear the king's hands on my body. I'd rather die, honestly."

And for once, Loki didn't know what to respond as his eloquence was finally lost on him.

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[liquidstar]

You know, I talk A LOT about “heirship” as a theme with my OCs, but never fully broke it down. And…... I want to!!! Fuck it! No one asked, but I’m going to anyway. Maybe for my own indulgence, but hopefully this will interest at least a couple of people! Note: I’m gonna say “heirship” a lot, it’s gonna start sounding like a fake word, and honestly in this context it’s more of an abstract concept. Also this is going to be long so I’m sticking it under the cut.

First of all, what is heirship? In the story it boils down to becoming what you are expected to become or live up to, but it’s different for every person. The topic of being an heir is a neutral thing, it can be both a positive and toxic aspect of a characters life, but mostly the latter. Aspiring to be something or someone you look up to is not an inherently bad thing, and it’s a good motivator and pure cause. However there are ways in which that can be twisted, when heirship is forced onto you in one way or another. It becomes suffocating, toxic, and even abusive at times. When you’re forced (Sometimes by yourself) into a roll regardless of what you want (or think you want) heirship becomes a prison, and no one is really free from this. From being an heir. It’s the most prominent theme and motif in the story, and there’s a reason so many of the characters are literally heirs to thrones or companies. So I’m going to dive into what exactly each of my main characters are “heirs” to, but I do want to note that this affects EVERY character in the story, every single one of them in one way or another (Some more than others) so if you ever wanted to know about a specific one feel free to ask me!

Amary is the main character, so it’s obviously the most fitting for her to be THE heir, the heir to the entire kingdom, she’s it. Amary is a princess, she was designed to have the most frilly “princess” design I could give her without looking to snooty. Her literal heirship is in becoming a queen, that’s what a princess does! But her mother is dead, and she left behind a life for Amary to follow in the footsteps in, always wondering if this is what people would want out of her mother. On the other hand though, her “prison” of heirship is one defined by traditional femininity, one where she’s expected to be a perfect princess and a perfect puppet, submissive and quiet and always listening to what the king says. 

Rue is a bit hard to get into because a lot of her deal isn’t explicitly revealed to other characters until later on. She’s the mysterious goth type, what’re you gonna do? But I still can say that her mother is a big reason she is who she is, in a weird sort of reverse-heirship. One where she denounces everything and rebels, one where she wants to be NOTHING like what she’s supposed to be, so she becomes the exact opposite in a sense. And in trying so hard to be free of this concept, she re-traps herself in it through her own expectations. Her own fears become a self-fulfilling prophecy, because rather than being her true self she just became the opposite of what was expected. In a way… It ends up being the same thing.

Aloe is a good example of heirship, a healthy example. He idolizes his mother, he looks up to her and wants to be like her, and she encourages his goals and helps him no matter what they are. There’s really not all that much to say on that, it’s pretty cut and dry! But I wouldn’t say it’s PERFECT, because he still does struggle with placing a certain ideal of what he should be onto himself, which can sometimes make him feel like he’s not living up to what he should be. He’s got time though, he’ll be ok. 

Sorrel, on the other hand, is an example of extremely toxic and abusive heirship. One where he’s forced into a roll and has to abide by what he should be strictly, or he’s going to get in trouble, and trouble in this case is more than just a time-out. His father’s abuse of him and his siblings is to mold them into perfect wizards to carry on the family legacy, perfect heirs required to do whatever he says. This affected all four of them in different ways, but that’s another post for another time. 

Carnation’s sense of heirship is self-imposed, but still toxic. She has to be the perfect smart girl, because she’s always been, but also because she knows that’s what her mother could have been if she didn’t have her. Carnation has complicated feelings about her mother that I should also probably get into in another post. But the bottom line is she feels like she has to justify her own existence by being perfect, or she feels worthless. She doesn’t understand that at a surface level though, consciously she only knows she has to be smart and perfect because that’s what she should be. Never less than 100%.

Pine’s heirship is COMPLETELY self-imposed, not relent on any parental figure in the slightest, but still perpetuated by them. They’ve always been gifted and talented and an amazing inventor, they’re praised for being a technical wonder-child! So obviously this lead into “Gifted Child Syndrome” where by highschool they’ve completely shut down in almost all categories outside of inventing stuff. Their grades suffer, they don’t eat well, they BARELY get any sleep, all because they started to slip on what they were expected to be. 

Geran is the heir to the sea region, there’s the obvious literal heirship angle to him but that also feeds back into his metaphorical heirship, one where he’s expected to play out a certain role of masculinity and strength. His idea of strength is one directly tied to emotions, where he has to stay stoic, but that’s not really true to who he is, even in his design the water drops in his eyes are meant to look like tear drops. It’s just a roll he felt he had to take on, as an heir, he just has to be “strong”. Him and Amary were always intended to be inverses of each other in this way, even with a subplot where they’re supposed to be fake-engaged, as a literal performance. You know, like how they’re performing heterosexuality, all the time, always. It’s all fake, that’s not who they are, that’s not who he is. 

Fennel has a more unique type of heirship, one not related to a parent’s or his own expectations of himself, but a younger sibling. Fennel’s little brother looked up to him a lot, what little sibling doesn’t? He was his brother’s hero! Notice the past tense though? His brother died while they were still young, and it wasn’t even all that long ago for him. Fennel feels like he’s obligated to live up to that perception of himself through his little brothers eyes, it’s really why he wanted to be a wizard to support his family, of all things. Wizards are heroes after all.

Protea is another example of healthy heirship, and like Aloe’s, hers is a lot simpler. Her moms own a potion shop together, it’s a cute little shop where she grew up and even worked at as a kid (Not WORK work though, it was like chores), and Protea loves her moms a lot and wants to take over the shop one day. She was like their student, learned all the potion making she could from them! It’s fully her choice to do this, she always looked up at them as an example of a happy life, and she wants that too. The downside is waiting to get there though, sometimes that can be so hard. 

Daisy’s form of heirship goes beyond parental figures, she aims to be her village’s new wizard. But she not only has to live up to the old one, she needs to surpass him. The old village wizard was unable to protect them against a monster and died trying, the village needs someone stronger to protect them. Daisy wants to do this because she never wants anyone to ever live through a tragedy like that again. She also has an interesting arc when it comes to heirship, one about progressing from childhood to motherhood because of the symbolism associated with daisies. (I don’t mean literal motherhood, she’s still only 18 by the end and I don’t plan to tackle teen pregnancy with her, for clarification). In her village she was seen as the babysitter for all the children post-monster attack while everyone was rebuilding, even though she was still so young, it’s another reason she feels like village wizard is a position for her.

Gallica and Musk are twins, but Musk was the prodigy, he was the perfect boy when it comes to academics, he always got so much praise for being so successful and gifted. Meanwhile Gallica was lacking in those categories, though she excelled socially and creatively. Their parents always made sure to reward them both for the things they were good at, but they were also busy, and sometimes it would seem unbalanced. For Musk that meant he clung to his sister even harder, but for Gallica it meant envying her brother. Though she doesn’t recognize it at first, she sits on those feelings for a while. Musk feels a lot of pressure to fit into that heirship possession, but Gallica just wants to feel like she’s the favorite, she wants to be that heir without knowing what that really means. 

Maggie is similar to Gallica, she’s an heir to the forest region, but she isn’t the heir apparent. That title goes to her older sister, while Maggie is left as the second in line. In life she’s always compared to the “real” heir, always made out to be second best. She just can’t measure up, but instead of wishing for that position, she gave up. The pain of being “second best” never really went away for her, but she doesn’t want to be the heir, she just wants to be herself. That’s even represented in her design, the rest of her family is green (Like her mother, currently in charge of that region), but she’s yellow (Like her father, who chose his own path that just happened to be marrying into it).

Tam is a bit unique given that what they have to look up to is… dragons. However, it's actually a very healthy example of heirship, because her dragon family took them in when they were a baby, and treated them just like all the other dragons. In a since Tam is an heir to them because their dragon-mom was their leader, but that doesn’t mean they don’t doubt themselves. And it doesn’t mean they don’t sometimes feel like an outsider when it comes to humans AND dragons. But they can do it, they’re just as dragon as the rest of them and they all know it, no need to be nervous. 

Holly was a doll to her parents. When I say that I don’t mean she was sweet to them, I mean they treated her like a doll. It’s not that they didn’t love her, but they were important people that needed to make an important impression, that means using their kid for it. You know, dragging her to big parties, dressing her up all cute (whether she wants to dress that way or not) and forcing her to sit still and behave and act cute. This sort of lead into her needing attention from people to feel validation. Not to mention she’s also literally an heir to their company. But after everything, does she really want that job? Or does she just want approval? Probably the latter, but it’s okay because eventually she’ll be able to live for herself.

Hyacinth’s love for books and reading is because of bedtime stories their mom would read to them when they were little, and although you can say their mother is the source of this heirship, she isn’t the focus of it. No, what Hyacinth looks up to and wants to become is the classic adventurer storybook hero. That’s all they want to be, they want to be like someone from a book. Someone confident, strong, brave, and… Not at all like they are now. They don’t like themselves much. Mostly because they can’t live up to their own ideal, a fictional ideal made up in their own escapist world. This is represented in their magic too, transformation magic. They literally become other people. One day though, being themselves will make them happier than anything. 

Aster is last, I was gonna do just the main students but I felt like I should mention at least one adult, and she’s the main one after all! Aster was her adoptive father’s protege, he taught her everything she knows. She went down the same path he did, becoming a student, then a wizard, then a knight, and eventually a teacher and surrogate mother figure, but she chose it because she wanted to. She may have gone down the same path but she made it her own, and her dad is proud of her for it because he’s an incredibly doting moron. However Aster’s path was still influenced by Ambrosia, and vice versa.

ANYWAY I rush-wrote this all at 7AM with no sleep on impulse so... I’m sorry if there are typos and it’s not the best written but I just wanted to ramble about my own OCs so... :)

[ticklikeabomb]

Headcanon : Convincing Loki to help you out

Pairing : Avengers x PS Reader ( Gender Neutral)

Warning : Language

Word Count : 1.6k

You didn't know how you managed to keep yourself off the Avengers radar but you did. Well if you had to name one way it would probably be the fact that your powers allowed you to travel through time and space. Not even Fury was aware of your presence among the common mortals. But that was before. Before it escalated and Thanos fulfilled his final plan : wipe out half of the universe. Now you were facing a choice : stay in your corner and living like nothing ever happened or step up and help out. You being your generous and kindhearted self, chose the latter. Who were you kidding, you chose to help out because living in reclusion and alone was getting boring. So here you were, in front of the so righteous (remaining) Avengers.

You sneaked up in the compound and found odd the facility being so easy to access and landed behind Steve Rogers. They were in a deep conversation, calculating the universes lost, that they didn't even noticed you. "Ehm hello", you said. They turned around, some of them armed and confusion written all over their features. "Who are you and how did you enter without being seen?", asked Rogers. You smiled at him and replied, "Oh I'm sorry but it seems that no one was guarding the place. What happened? Do you guys are in lack of staff?" Seeing their teeth clench and not happy faces you added "Too soon?". Natasha stepped forward her gun pointed at you and renewed Rogers' question, "Who are you?" "I'm Y/N. You haven't heard of me. It's normal, I don't usually stay so long in one period but yeah, since I'm here I popped out and figured you needed a hand but if you don't I'm happy to go back. I don't know, I kinda miss the 90's."

"The 90's?", asked Bruce perplexed. You turned around to leave but knew damn well they would be too intrigued and fools to let you go. You mentally counted to 3 and at the last number, Thor stood up and blocked your exit. You looked at him not even phased by his huge figure and heard a faint wheezing. He summoned what was his new weapon but you didn't let it finish its course, by picking it mid-air. The Strombreaker in your hand, you took a good look before looking back at a dumbfounded God of Thunder. "Nice artefact", you commented and handed it to him. "You said you wanna help, how?", asked James Rhodes. "I have certain skills if you wish, like travel back in time for example." They all looked at each other before your ears wheezed. "Oh I think you have a visit", you exclaimed. Bruce checked the cameras and saw a yellowish glow in front of the compound. They all stepped outside and you decided to stay back.

20 minutes later, they entered the room again with none other than Tony Stark in a terrible shape alongside Carol Danvers. The Avengers found you laying on the couch going through a lost magazine, ready to be drawn like one of their french girls. "You cosy there? Maybe you want a sandwich while you're at it?", exclaimed Rhodes sarcastically. "Hmm that actually sounds tempting, I haven't eating in 72 hours", you replied with a shit-eating grin. He frowned and was about to argument when Stark pointed at you, "Who are they?" "They claim their name is Y/N", replied Bruce and you nodded. You walked at Carol and presented you hand, "Nice to meet you. The way you punched that grandma in the train was iconic." They all turned to her and she smiled at you. "Thanks I guess", she replied. "So what's your plan?", you finally asked them. They spent half an hour explaining their terrible plan while you tried to keep your eyelids open. "Are you even listening?", asked Steve annoyed. "No sorry, I actually died 25 minutes ago." They sighed in annoyance and you stood up. "Alright how about this : I go back in time, infiltrate the helicopter and try to get Loki to cooperate?" "You wanna go back to 2012?", said Natasha. "Yeah nothing more easy. I try to make him comply because well he wouldn't resist my charms now would he and then on the way out I get the scepter and destroy the first stone. From there on I keep on going until the stones that remain on Earth are out." They thought about the plan in question and found that it wasn't bad. "When do we leave?", asked Rogers. You look at him before starting to laugh your ass off. "Yo - you must be kidding right? You're not coming with me" "Yes we are", he spat. "No can do, see the thing with time travelling is that I never actually traveled with someone so it could go wrong really fast."

"I guess you have an hour to come up with a backup because we're coming with you." Your jaw clenched for the first time since you arrived and sat down on the couch. You began thinking how and if you were able to transport so many people with you and after a long reflexion came to the conclusion that you only could take 6 people with you and not one more. "Ok losers, I can only bring 6 of you with me and that's already a lot. Shit could go down and we could fall into some kind of abysm." Once again they looked at each other, being all dramatic and you rolled your eyes. "Me, Rocket and Nebula will stay behind. You should go", Rhodes pointed at the first Avengers. "You shouldn't come, you're too weak", you said at Tony to which he shook his head in disagreement.

"If shit goes down, you will have to deal with the consequences !", you said seriously. They nodded, willing to do whatever it took. "Hands", you motioned and they complied. You closed your eyes and focused on the period and location you were aiming for. You felt your body tense and your bones contract painfully. You began to groan through greeted teeth and felt a surge taking you all off. The next second you were at the helicopter. As predicted, Tony emptied his stomach. You felt a pain on the left part of your body and bit on your lip. The Avengers were slowly recovering from the merge when you felt fluid run down your lip. You turned around and wiped out the blood best you could. "Everyone ok?", you asked. They groaned and weekly said they were.

"Let's go", you mumbled. "We'll take care of the scepter while you go talk with Loki", exclaimed Steve. "We?", you breathed out. Natasha smirked at you and you rolled your eyes. "Fine." She opened the door where Loki was kept and smiled mischievously seeing her approach. "To what do I own your presence Agent Romanoff?", he asked. She wasn't phased at all and replied, "We already got this conversation Loki." He seemed taken aback but quickly collected himself. He was about to start his little monologue when you fake coughed. "I won't be the one interrogating you but they will", pointed Natasha your way. You stepped out of the shadows and she eclipsed to the far end of the room. "So what's up?", you started. "I beg your pardon?", he replied. "Oh you shouldn't beg me for pardon but if you insist, why not."

"Do you want the long version or the short?", you continued. You didn't really gave him time to reply and started right away. "So the fast version. Here we go. Well your little project in invading New York semi worked. The Avengers got the upper hand on that so restrain yourself. What happened then?", you asked out loud. "Oh yeah, your mother got killed partially because of you, Thor and Jane broke up but that's not really important here just figured you would like to know. You faked your own death. AGAIN and took Odin's place on the throne. After that Odin died and guess who came back? Yep your sister. Well if you didn't know you had one, now you know. She pretty much tried to kill all of you, you ended up in Sakaar and came back to Asgard for it to burn. You and Thor decided to join Earth but got intercepted by Thanos and his ugly ass children." At the mention of Thanos you saw him tense profoundly and knew you had him. "He killed almost all of your people and Heimdall. You being you decided to provide your services but Thanos kindly chocked you to death. The ship exploded and he managed to collect the stones on Earth. Snapped his finger leaving half of the universe to dust away. I humbly imposed my presence to the Avengers and convinced them of my awesomeness and here we are again. Back in time, me facing you. Do you have any questions?", you finished with a fake smile.

He looked at you wide-eyes before collecting himself and cleared his throat. "I have a question. Why do you talk so much?" You weren't expecting that but still answered, "I'm not used to company so I guess I got carried away." You saw the wires turn on his pretty little head and smirked. "So Mischief what's your plan now : you gonna go all Goth on me or do you actually wanna help us this time?", you asked him straightforward. He chuckled before a large smirk playing on his features. "When do we start?" You looked back at Natasha who nodded and opened the cage. He stepped outside and marched at you, scanning you up and down. "Follow me, the others are waiting", you told him. He stepped closer and whispered in your ear, "Your ribs are broken." "Yeah about that it would be kind of you to not mention it." He chuckled again and followed you to the meeting point.

You arrived in front of the others, Natasha at one side and Loki at the other and declared, "Showtime baby".  

* gifs and photos not mine, credit to owners*

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[werdegasts]

Okay, hit me with a dream cast for a classic horror movie! Any horror movie, pre-existing or not, hit me with those casting choices!

skfnshndb ok, mandatory disclaimer though that i’m a fool in a man’s shoes. nevertheless! here are some things sorta resembling dreamcasts

doctor x: but with glenda farrell in lee tracy’s role. IDEALLY ideally still with the romance subplot but i’d so take a version where they power-of-friendship thru it all too. also, if i was recasting the xavier institute doctors, john carradine and oskar homolka in there somewhere

dracula: you know what. we need a round table discussion on who should’ve played lucy’s suitors if they’d stayed in

frankenstein: george e. stone as “'victor moritz”’ (that name choice remains baffling). justification: i really like his scenes with mae clarke in ‘the front page’ (as earl and molly; >> their hgf actors imo!) in ‘the front page’, also he’s great (and almost unrecognisable) in ‘the vampire bat’. maybe, instead of an ersatz-clerval & spare love interest for elizabeth, 'victor’ could be an ernest/william(/justine) composite younger relative chara, probably meeting the latters’ fates.

kathleen burke in a 40s noir-horror. she could & should have played fab leads; 'murders in the zoo’ is more than proof of that!! as for actual dreamcasting, maybe as thea in ‘isle of the dead’ (my favourite of the less-praised rko-lewton movies, at least atm). i think if the ensemble cast were a little better balanced, the horror of thea’s situation should have been a centerpiece. her experience and pherides’ compliment and comment on one another. she’s threatened by the weight of others’ suspicions of her, a hostile micro-society; his standing & standards for himself create a trap of his own making, literalised when he imposes the quarantine in which they’re then forced together. you can see the same thread elsewhere, fulfilled to varying extents. stone and merriam in ‘the ghost ship’, and sims and nell bowen in ‘bedlam’ are prob the strongest examples, but i find thea most interesting because like irina (in cat people, not curse)/jacqueline/clo-clo, she too is classified as threat, mired in death, source or contaminant of ancestral supernatural destruction. and she…survives? (wow, tangent. i should’ve made a diff post for this)

son of frankenstein: of all the almost-happened castings to choose from, i really wonder about peter lorre’s version of wolf von frankenstein. & then if they’d had basil rathbone for gof, instead of inventing ludwig. vaguely related: basil rathbone should’ve played a lead in one of the corman/poe movies - he’s great in the 'the facts in the case of m valdemar’ section of 'tales of terror’

dracula’s daughter: feat. a flashback prologue & bela! probably made a few years earlier. as for dreamcasting; lil dagover, in a world where she stayed in hollywood after 'the woman from monte carlo’ in '32, as marya’s mother/mentor/ ❔ ❔

non-preexisting

here’s my galaxy brain take: universal DOCTOR FAUSTUS adaptation, as a bela lugosi and boris karloff collab (lbr, secretly this dwells in the hearts of all ‘the black cat’ (and ‘the raven’) stans). leaning towards boris as faustus and bela as mephistopheles but the reverse would also SLAP. since time and audience expectations are a flat circle the play already has the exact kind of irrelevant comic relief characters you would expect - so like. wallace ford as wagner. zita johann (hedy lamarr??) is there as helen of troy for all of 5 seconds and she glares at everyone then leaves. ideal

hashtag premake: VAL LEWTON’S CORALINE

i have one whole suggestion for a Modern Remake, naturally feat 0 casting ideas: 'the black room’, but gregor and anton are women. possibly gregor has a whole elizabeth bathory thing going on - if so, both of them eventually die by drowning instead of stabbing. lots about Doubles Fear + performance and violence of beauty + mirror images (true/false/same/different/self/voyeur) + treatment of disability etc

[pomegranate-salad]

Seeds of thought : Wicdiv #29

It’s a tale of pain and misery. It rekindles you with the worst human nature has to offer. It takes a bite of your soul and runs with it. It’s the APARTMENT HUNT IN JULY !!

*lightning strikes*

So life is more than a little chaotic right now, meaning I’m mightily glad I have this piece to help me take my mind off things. Did I ever say how great it was to have to look forward to writing these every month ? No ? Well starting this series is one of the best and most time-consuming ideas I’ve ever had. In that order.

Anyway, thoughts and opinions under the cut, not spoiler-free.

LET’S TALK ABOUT TEXT, BABY

 Wicdiv is so rich in themes and intersected motives that, really, everyone comes to it for different reasons. But if there’s one core I keep coming back to, it’s the inner workings - and dysfunctions – of the relationship between identity, communication and social life. It’s been a bit of a running theme in these blogposts : in SOT #25 we talked about the construction of morality in a given society, in SOT #26 the stakes of getting to know someone, and two months ago in SOT #28 the vulnerability inherent to forming a bond.

But this time I want to push the lens closer, and instead of looking at the purpose or the consequences surrounding the characters’ relationships, focus solely on the instrument : Language.

This is the perfect time to do it as not only does this issue walk us through the status quo of the new arc, it’s also the first in quite some time in which every god (with one meaningful exception) gets almost equal speaking time. The gods have known and interacted with each other for over a year ; the way they talk, communicate and generally express themselves has cemented itself to the point of forming patterns and codes. In that grand game of identity and relationships, language is more than a simple tool of communication : it has autonomous meaning, and power.

 This is true of Language in general, but in the Wicdiv world it’s also literal : visually, speech bubbles themselves reflect the powers of the gods, and the Morrigan is summoned by the use of her name.

And in the eternal blur Wicdiv is cultivating between fantasy and its metaphorical exploitation, the simple act of calling someone is never neutral, but imbued with and intent and revealing of the multiplicity of identity. Persephone, the perspective character of this issue, goes here by so many names. Persephone. Laura Wilson. Persy. Not Marlboro shite. The Destroyer slut. You. Depending on the way they’re used, all of these terms posits their user relatively to Persephone, or perhaps more accurately posits Persephone relatively to them. Take the act of nicknaming. In the Morrigan’s speech, “The Destroyer slut” casts Persephone aside as someone unwanted in her territory. Meanwhile Baal’s nicknames, as egregious as they may be for their receivers, are accepted by the group as an act of recognition : Baal’s acknowledges you by showing he knows you enough and has thought of you enough to find a witty name for you. In this context, not nicknaming Persephone serves as an act of excommunication ; he had a name ready for her, he’s just not going to use it. In one case, the nickname is used to impose distance ; in the other, it’s the absence of nickname that has the same purpose.

 But beyond this pointed use of names, every word here is potent even when devoid of any intent. Words succeed or not in carrying across an identity : on the first page, a decent quip confuses Persephone into thinking Lucifer is somehow with her. But on the next page, the illusion is shattered as much by visuals as it is with words : Lucifer “wouldn’t say that” and therefore she cannot be here.

Interestingly, it’s in fact the words that appear the most empty that seem the heaviest in and of themselves. During the clubbing sequence, Persephone gets subjected to the expected litany of banalities people offer in dire circumstances : “I’m sorry”, “it must be terrible”. Those words, most of the time, exist purely on a social scale : the point isn’t to be actually sorry or empathetic, it’s to fulfil a social duty that dictates such words be used in that context. They do not impart meaning, do not carry any kind of identity marker, their sole virtue is to be considered better than saying nothing. And yet they seem to rile up Persephone harder than Baal’s or the Morrigan hurtful words. Despite seemingly empty, they still hold constraining power on the receiver. After all, if Persephone “must” feel terrible, then if she does not actually feel that terrible, or is simply confused about how she feels, then she must be a bad person. Through these purely social words, there is social enforcing of the self and its demanded emotions.

 Words loaded with intent can gain in meaning, but words that only seem to exist for and by themselves in social interaction can carry meaning independently from the concept they supposedly exist to signify. Recuperating linguistics theories from Ferdinand de Saussure, Lacan theorizes a separation within every word between a Signified (the concept of what we’re designating) and its Signifier (the acoustic entity we associate to this concept and designate as “the word”). But whereas classic linguistics theory sees the Signifier as a reduction of the Signified (the world “horse” not ever being able to contain the concept of a horse in its entirety), Lacan posits that the most significant element of the speech is not the Signified but the Signifier : when put in connexion with other Signifiers (thus forming a speech) it carries the subject’s unconscious meaning and intent through metaphors and substitutions. Simply put, the words we use and how we use them are more important to decrypt our speech than what these words supposedly mean on their own.

 I find Lacan’s postulate to be particularly interesting to apply to Gillen’s writing. I have yet to dedicate a full piece to his writing style, but I’ve described it as “disjointed” and “artificial” in previous pieces – neither time in a negative way. The writing in comics has to be both to some degree, to make do with the scattered nature of the written text and its scarcity. Speech in comics is typically way more in-depth and polished than normal talk : in a limited space both plot and characters must move forward with the support of an image and a few lines of text. Therefore, the typical comic text will consist of heavy, meaningful phrases and witty clapbacks organized in a succession that wouldn’t make any sense without the art to go with it.

But in Wicdiv, Gillen’s “classical comic writing style” gets pushed to the extreme. The preciosity of his other works reaches a comical degree : by piling up metaphors, a sentence become unintelligible – like in issue #10 when Baal crammed in so many nicknames he had to translate himself. Likewise, the disjointedness of his writing, which sometimes made you question the succession of ideas, becomes a feature : in a same bubble of speech, characters go from sentence to sentence seemingly without any internal logic. In the end, speech in Wicdiv is like a coloured candy necklace of perfectly shaped, beautiful expressions aligned randomly that, despite their appealing appearance, do not actually have any taste.

Persephone gives us two successive examples in this issue : when she describes her relation with Sakhmet as “having an angel of death as a girlfriend” and then when she says “they got to be doomed together”. Both expressions supposedly answer a very practical, straightforward question, and yet none of them come logically from the sentence before them, and when you strip away the fancy words, none of them really mean anything. Sure, we can discuss to no end about what “doomed together” entails, but if there’s actually a core idea in there, it’s probably a very simple one that got inflated to the point it stopped being about that idea and became all about how it would sound on its own. What does “we got to be doomed together” mean ? Who knows. But it sounds great, doesn’t it ? Sounds exciting, doesn’t it ?

The characters in Wicdiv are so in love with words, so in love with the beauty of speech, they will flaunt that beauty as much as they can until any connexion between word and meaning is broken. The unsurpassable barrier between Signifier and Signified has been hermetically sealed. There is no truth or reality to words because speech exists for itself and is its own referential. In that context, characters communicate only in impressions of concepts, in the vague imprint they have left on a word. When Sakhmet straight up tells Persephone she killed and ate her dad, there is no reaction from the latter because this is only the best or worst thing after all, and if it was the best thing then maybe it helped. Words send back to themselves, the meaning they carry is only the one given by previous speech. Signifiers interact with each other to form a language removed from the Signified. There is no reality, there is only how we talk about it.

 But just like satire is not satire without intent, all of this would be dangerously close to a failure in writing if the author didn’t do anything with it. And while I have my reservations with Cass as “the call-out character” consistently used to excuse the medium tools the comic still delights in, she is excellent when it comes to counterbalancing this aspect of the characters. Cass’ speech is not that much simpler than other characters’ but it’s decidedly more meaningful and articulate. She does not deal in metaphors of impressions of concepts ; to her, words mean something. That’s why, despite not relishing in the banalities Persephone hears throughout the issue, her compassion is more visible and sincere than anyone else ; because when Persephone throws around “angels of death as girlfriends”, Cass hears something very real, and potentially painful for Persephone. And in return, gets her to pause and actually consider her own words. Reconnect them with reality.

Cass actually does it twice in a row, and this is simultaneously where her weakness as a speaking subject appears. Right after that, Persephone makes her “doomed together” remark and Cass immediately adopts a more reprimanding tone to criticize the use of such an expression in that context. There is, arguably, a hyperreality of language to Cass : at every moment, words have to be connected to their precise meaning, which means she has trouble playing with language the way other characters do. This is visible in her difficulty to pick up social signals, but also in her vulnerability to the weaponizing of language. In this issue, it is demonstrated in its use by an abuser, the Morrigan : while Cass is happy to flaunt her Psych 101 knowledge about the use of a possessive, the first ad hominem argument gets her to lose focus immediately. The Morrigan compared two things that aren’t the same, and therefore Cass must rectify in the middle of the argument, even turning her back on the Morrigan. Compare this with Dio, who has his eyes on the prize and understands that nothing the Morrigan says matter because she uses language to push them away and not to communicate, even less so to debate.

 The danger of such a world in which language gradually loses meaning is that it enables abusers like the Morrigan, who will use this loss of meaning to cut their victim from reality. When words get disconnected from their intended meaning, then they become free vehicles to be imbued with another meaning, one that will serve personal interests. I’ve touched on this when I talked about perversity in media and totalitarianism, but this issue gives us our most textual example yet : Cameron is the only god in this issue who doesn’t get any speaking time or even screentime ; unlike in previous issues, he is not talked for but about. This is where we see the Morrigan’s efforts to limit his access to another form of speech and thus potentially different meanings from the ones that have been enforced on him. The Morrigan will not have him “confused”, that’s to say she’ll not have him reconnect with non-abusive forms of communication and relationships. As long as no one says otherwise, a beating can still be just a squabble, because this is what the Morrigan called it and in his world there is only the Morrigan.

[Also on a personal note and as a personal favour, if you like anything I’ve written and all you have to say about the Morrigan in this issue is “oh my god her outfit”… Please. Please. There are abuse victims reading you. You are reading one right now. Consider what they see when they open Tumblr. Consider what the very intent of displaying her like that might be. Don’t be that person who just proves the point.]

 The Wicdiv characters, and Persephone in particular, have come to what could be called a breaking point when it comes to language : we have reached a level of speech so removed from reality that any confrontation of a word with its actual meaning will cause speech to collapse on itself and the character to have to acknowledge its total inadequacy. From here, either the characters will retreat into a world as physically removed from the real one as their language aspires to be so they will be no more confrontation – as the Morrigan and Cameron have – either they’ll have to painfully reconnect with the meaning and the weight of their words. “Taking a shot” will mean murder again, “rule the underground alone” will mean abuse, and “doomed together” will mean nothing because it never did. It will not be pleasant, just like it is never pleasant to have to carry the consequences of anything. In a way, the gods have always vied with language, the sheer potency and danger of it, its seduction and its failures. After all, we don’t know much about the gods’ performances, but we don’t it’s not just sounds. It’s words. They mean everything. This may be why no one understands them.

   WHAT I THOUGHT OF THE ISSUE

 Let me start by saying that for the life of me, I do not get how Imperial Phase I and II are supposed to be structured as a whole. I hope that once this arc is over some kind of mirroring or dented rhythm will emerge that will make sense of the whole thing, but for now the way high and low tension moments are aligned is frankly puzzling and in my opinion detrimental to the read. Anyway.

This issue is a strange one not because it does anything strange in it in terms of storytelling, but on the contrary because of how deeply seated in the Wicdiv trench line it is. There is nothing surprising about its progression, the use of its characters, and its role in the main plot. And in a way, that’s what makes it so odd in its own context. As I’ve said in the past, Wicdiv has cemented a tradition of beginning its arcs by establishing the new status quo in a non-contentious kind of way to make way for more action-packed issues. But in the past arcs, they’ve always made care to find a twist on the classic “establishing shot” : issue #6 would wrap up the new situation in personal trauma, issue #12 would use the point of view of minor characters to walk us through it, issue #18 would forego the expected revelations and issue #23 went high-concept with the magazine. But issue #29 is an establishing issue in the purest of senses : Persephone is quite literally walking us from character to character, all of them having an occasion to clarify where they stand regarding the new situation. Even issue #24, its closest double, wasn’t as thorough when it came to diagramming the new world order. The main plot to the issue is entirely devoid of surprise, as you can predict the final scene pretty much from the opening pages. The characters themselves don’t have any U-turns for us, most of them remaining cemented in their ways.

And all of this is in itself kind of surprising so far into the comic : given how well we’re acquainted with the Wicdiv world, its characters and the logic of its storytelling, such a “basic” issue should really be unnecessary and hard to conceive of. This is old-school Wicdiv if I’ve ever seen it : this kind of issue would fit perfectly within Fandemonium ; after all, it’s all about Laura/Persephone looking for something while being half-willing and interacting with the gods who are more or less helpful. But after the string of arc that have definitely changed the Wicdiv course, finding such an issue as an introduction to the new arc feels bizarre.

And as a result, it’s not very involving or exciting : as I’ve said, the plot and characters are predictable, there aren’t any emotional moments that take you by surprise – the way the touching  pizza cutter scene between Persephone and Cass did in the middle of issue #24 – and visually there aren’t any clear scene-stealer that make you go “ooooooooooh”. In the end, this issue doesn’t do much for me.

 Is all this intentional ? Given the issue has been described as “a hangover”, it’s definitely there. Indeed, the whole issue is heavy, unresponsive on its feet, it seems to crawl from scene to scene and make any interaction as drudgy and unnatural as possible. You people out there who actually drink will have to confirm that for me, but it sounds like a hangover alright. Even the lines are slightly blurry and the colours slightly muted, as if this issue has been out too long in the sun. Compared to issue #24, which also takes place after a night of partying, issue #29 is less about lack of direction than it is about lack of will : Persephone drifts around in apparently the same way, but while #24 had her looking for what to do, #29 gives her something clear to do ; she simply doesn’t have the strength to carry it through. Given all that, this issue is not nearly as frustrating as it could have been, as there is nothing more egregious than knowing what the goal is and witness someone failing to achieve it. But it’s still quite a drag. I couldn’t wait for it to end, not necessarily because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because it felt like trying to shake up a muscle numbness : you just have to do it and it’s taking too damn long.

 However, if this issue is not exciting for itself, it is certainly for what it portends : eventually, someone is going to wake up. The hangover is going to end. And for me, this issue was riddled with signs that Laura Wilson is finally ready to get out of hell and take over Persephone. There were the multiple allusions to Lucifer, the flashbacks to happier times, but most importantly, for the first time since Fandemonium, we are back inside Laura’s head. The first line of the arc is internal narration, and it’s all about waking up. Of course, she’s not awake yet, and this issue is still much of a godhood-induced stupor ; but she’s stirring.

So while as an issue, #29 feels derivative and doesn’t have much going for itself, it still gets the job done as an introduction : gets me anxious to see the rest and hopeful at least a little bit of the old magic of the first arcs it’s voluntarily failing to recreate will get to be found again by our damaged characters. But then again, I was told not to believe in miracles.

 (And by the way, yes I’m aware my title pun would justify cutting me from all and every communication device, but on the other hand this issue literally ended on a “Netflix and kill” title card so fight the real enemy)