#maybe arthur the giant killer?

[katabay]

long ago, in a land of heroes and gods and monsters—

or, bedwyr and cei listen to arthur tell a story

Caitlin R. Green, Concepts of Arthur

[cryptidcr3ature]

Girlie edition of dogs I’d recommend the Van Der Linde gang:

Abigail: Pit Bull. She would love a big goofy dog. It’d remind of her of John too. Overall it’s a good fit.

Sadie: Doberman. I have no reason I just think it’s very her. Its name would be “killer” and it would be the sweetest dog ever.

Mary-Beth: Yorkie. Purse dog owner. It would have a bow in the hair and the prettiest silky fur. Comparable to Lenny’s poodle in terms of spoilage.

Tilly: German Shepherd. I feel like she would have a giant dog and no one would expect it. Its name would be like “princess” and it would be extremely protective of Tilly.

Susan: Jack Russel Terrier. She needs a yappy, rugged little dog. She has terrier energy anyway. It’d bite Arthur’s ankles if he was too lazy.

Molly: Italian greyhound. She needs a Velcro dog. She has a lot of love to give, and she needs a dog to feed her desire for attention. She’d probably get it some cute sweaters.

Karen: Mastiff. She would do amazing with a lazy dog. They’d take a good nap and then it would be a great drinking buddy. She also seems like the type that wouldn’t mind the drool.

Mary Linton: Golden Retriever. She needs something loyal and stable to manage her crazy life. It would most definitely help her in her turmoils with her father and brother.

Bonus NPCS:

Nigel: Bloodhound. Maybe he could find Gavin.

Albert Mason: Beagle. Just a little friend to traverse through the woods with.

Charles Chatenay: Chinese crested. A crime against society, so it would fit his vibe.

[hinotorihime]

so chapter 3/the may 16th entry of dracula is actually one of the pillars of my argument that Dracula Is A Love Story.

the central point of dracula is that humans loving each other matters; that ordinary people can stand against darkness and evil simply by the strength of their connections to each other. dracula is old and powerful, but he is, fundamentally, alone.

dracula cannot love. this is what defeats him in the end.

spoiler-laden and very long discussion under the cut.

we learn some interesting and important things from the scene of dracula and the vampire women. first, dracula’s own peers don’t even like him. the relationship between them is overtly hostile, with the women disobeying dracula’s orders and being restrained only by his superior strength:

I saw his strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and with giant's power draw it back, the blue eyes transformed with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. ... With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurled the woman from him, and then motioned to the others, as though he were beating them back; it was the same imperious gesture that I had seen used to the wolves.

the vampires are equated explicitly with wolves-- not as the family structure we now know wolf packs to be, but rather as a group of vicious and naturally solitary killers who are forced to band together under the power of the strongest one for the sake of acquiring food.

then we get this exchange:

"How dare you touch him, any of you? How dare you cast eyes on him when I had forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me! Beware how you meddle with him, or you'll have to deal with me." The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him:—

"You yourself never loved; you never love!"

more evidence of the disdain, hatred, and perhaps fear that the other vampires hold for the count; it hints at a history that we never actually get, but can perhaps guess at, especially in the immediate context of the scene (the women attempting to prey on jonathan), which frames a vampiric attack, very very obviously, as a sexual assault. and it expresses, flat-out, in so many words, a core theme of the novel: dracula cannot love as humans do.

dracula tries to refute this claim, in a very unconvincing way:

Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper:—

"Yes, I too can love; you yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so? Well, now I promise you that when I am done with him you shall kiss him at your will.”

yes, tumblr, this is the homoerotic cherry on top of the homoerotic ice cream, but like...

consider the parallels between the implications of this statement and this passage from jonathan in chapter XXII, which is incidentally my favorite line in this entire book and has lived in my brain rent-free for ten years:

To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks.

like. okay! okay then!! jesus christ. hang on a second i need a moment.

fundamentally what stoker is doing in chapter III is drawing a distinction between the selfless, self-sacrificing love that the human characters will later demonstrate for each other (jonathan’s for mina, or lucy’s suitors for her--

What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for her." ... "If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would understand——" [chapter X]

)

and the “love” that dracula expresses for jonathan in this scene, which is no more in the end than a malicious possessiveness over his food. maybe when the count was a mortal man he was capable of loving in a mortal way-- his words to the vampire women seem almost wistful or nostalgic to me. but look at the contrast between lucy’s deep love and playful affection for her boys when she was alive and, well, this:

Lucy's eyes in form and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew. ... With a careless motion, she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace, said:—

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!"

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones—something of the tingling of glass when struck—which rang through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. [chapter XVI]

the revenant that was lucy retains her memories, but none of her human feeling; arthur’s love for her becomes no more than a tool to manipulate him into being her next meal.

vampires are incapable of love.

they are incapable of true community, too; fundamentally outcasts, fundamentally loners, who only group together under duress for the sake of hunger or the threat of violence. and it is due, in the end, to this incapability that they are defeated. for all his power, dracula dies unceremoniously at the hands of a bunch of young men who care deeply for each other and would do anything for jonathan harker’s wife. there’s a hope in that, and a comfort. as samuel vimes once said: it’s better to light a flamethrower than to curse the darkness.

or, in terms stoker would have been more familiar with: the light shines in darkness, and the darkness cannot comprehend it.

a final note: it would be remiss of me to ignore the unfortunate implications of the very queer framing of this assault scene-- other people have talked about the way that the homoeroticism of dracula’s claiming of jonathan, and the implicit feminization of jonathan-as-gothic-ingenue, was in context intended to increase the horror factor, and about the way it probably reflects stoker’s complex feelings about his own sexuality. the idea that homosexuality is “not really love” or, worse, is inherently assault, is still prevalent in today’s society, and my interpretation of this scene unfortunately cannot escape those undercurrents. the incorporation of these themes in the novel is masterful writing, and would also be rightly considered abhorrent if it were published today. ah, the art of literary criticism!

[jingerhead]

Bro bro can you imagine the foxes showing Neil Monty Python The Holy Grail and Neil going, “Tis but a scratch” every time he gets hurt or “just a flesh wound”. Like he would so copy the black knight

It's the only thing he takes in from the movie JSJSJS oh I had to write this one, I hope you enjoy this little drabble lovely! Thanks so much!

Send me a prompt or something :)

~*~

Neil wasn't into movies. He always figured he could find a better way to spend two hours than sitting on a couch watching a fake story, but the foxes tended to use movie nights as a way to hang out easily, so he often found himself coerced into sitting on the couch bored out of his mind. When he admitted he didn't watch movies the upperclassmen tried showing him Disney classics and other big hit series, and while they loved those ones, Neil couldn't get himself interested. He couldn't even lie about it.

Still, the others seemed determined to find something that Neil would like, declaring another movie night and all staying tight-lipped about which one it was going to be. Neil showed up at Matt's dorm, this time with Andrew in tow, and they all settled down with giant bowls of popcorn and drinks. Neil decided to leave his usual spot in the corner open for Andrew and settled on the floor instead, grabbing a pillow to sit on for the next two hours.

"I'm not even going to ask if you've seen this one," Nicky said as he fiddled with the blu-ray player. "But just so you know: we're watching Monty Python and The Holy Grail."

"Okay," Neil said, glancing back at Andrew before leaning against his legs.

"It's so funny," Nicky continued as he sat back down, the screen beginning to play the movie. "The coconuts, the witch trial, the knights who say ni..."

"The black knight," Matt added.

"The killer bunny," Dan said.

"The holy hand - "

"You're giving away the movie," Neil interrupted. If there was anything worse than having to sit through a long movie, it was everyone else having a conversation while the movie was playing. What was the point of watching it, then?

As usual, the movie was fine. Just fine. The others were laughing at certain parts and the movie was clearly meant to be humorous, but it was...well, it was a movie. Most of the time Neil spent thinking about all the other things he could be doing as King Arthur led another one of his knights to death. He kept note of the parts the others had mentioned incase they asked him questions later, but other than that, he ran through exy drills in his head and enjoyed leaning against Andrew's legs.

"So!" Nicky said when the movie ended, and as usual, everyone turned to face Neil. "How was it?"

"It was a movie," Neil replied, like he usually did. "It was funny," he decided to add, hoping that would be enough to satisfy them for now.

It seemed to work, because he was able to leave the dorm earlier than usual - or maybe that was because Andrew led him back to theirs and nobody wanted to get in the way - and even had enough time to watch a match before he went to sleep that night. Like the rest of the movies the upperclassmen had gotten him to watch, he couldn't completely forget it, but after two days nobody asked him his opinion anymore. Things were as they always were.

Until a week later, when the Foxes had a game. It had been going in the Foxes favor so far, which is probably why the other team started to play a bit dirty. At one point Neil was hit hard enough to make him fall over, and in a last minute attempt to prevent that he tripped over his own feet, right ankle rolling painfully as he went down. That pain didn't go away, getting worse by the second, enough that Neil knew he wouldn't be able to get up and run anytime soon. A brief fight between players was broken up by the refs and Neil found himself surrounded by his teammates quickly.

There was a flurry of questions Neil could barely keep up with when he was doing his best to keep from wincing as he moved his right leg, trying to look down and assess the damage. Someone gagged and said, "Oh God, I can see it swelling," but it could've been worse. It probably wasn't broken, fractured at the very worst, just enough to take Neil out of the rest of the game. It frustrated him, and the concern from his teammates only amplified that frustration, and they wouldn't stop asking him if he was okay.

'I'm fine' would've gotten him disappointed looks. So instead, without thinking, Neil said under his breath, "Tis but a scratch."

The others went quiet immediately. "Was that a joke?" Matt asked, his lips lifting in a smile before falling neutral again, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or not.

"Oh no, better check for a head injury too," Allison said through her own laughter. Soon just about everyone else laughed along with her, and the air became more relaxed.

After a few seconds Neil was hauled to his feet, allowed to lean heavily on Andrew who walked him towards the sidelines. Neil could limp, so he figured the damage couldn't be as bad as he thought, but he appreciated the help anyway. Andrew stuck around as Abby helped Neil take off his shoe and sock, putting ice on it for now as she dug for more supplies to wrap it with.

"Just a flesh wound," Neil said to Andrew. He was almost surprised to see a bit of amusement flash through Andrew's eyes. Neil wondered if he liked that one movie.

"You would lose an arm and say that," Andrew said.

"Probably not," Neil grumbled, hissing when Abby started to wrap his ankle up. "That was unrealistic."

Andrew didn't say anything else, and he stuck at the sidelines long enough to make sure Neil kept the ice on his ankle before heading back onto the field. The Foxes pulled through that game, loading onto the bus to head back to Palmetto late that night. It was only then that Neil realized he'd made a terrible mistake.

"If you liked that one, we could watch some other Monty Python movies," Nicky was saying. "Who knew Neil would be into comedy?"

[clappingdemoncheeks]

｡o°✥✤✣ How the Brothers react to GN!MC telling a bad joke✣✤✥°o｡

◕Lucifer◕ 

Lucifer has a very bad habit of sitting at his desk for hours which is largely due to his inability to stop anything once he started it, and despite your attempts of getting him away from there, it still hasn’t changed much. So, you changed your game plan: if you can’t get him away from his desk, at least make him laugh, right?! New challenge, same level of impossible. “Hey Luci…~” That nickname alone earned you a frown. “Which Knight invented King Arthur’s Round Table?” With a sigh, he put his pen down and crossed his arms over his chest, “MC, I really don’t have time for this.” “SIR CUMFERENCE!” Although you were laughing, Lucifer sure wasn’t. As a matter of fact, he looked only annoyed, and you won’t hear the end of it for a loooonngggg time. But don’t think you’ve lost! Because in private? He definitely gave a soft chuckle thinking back on that joke. 

☆Mammon☆

Mammon is someone who makes bad jokes unintentionally. He doesn’t even know he’s making them until everyone around him is laughing and that’s what you find most adoring about him. He’s a little clueless, you know? But cutely so. You wanted to make him laugh just as much as he has made you laugh and what better way than to give him a taste of his own medicine? That’s right, you found one of the stupidest jokes in history. “Hey Mammon, what do you call a belt made out of watches?” The second born started grinning, leaning in closer, “depends on, MC! What kinda watches we talkin’?” You rolled your eyes at that but it didn’t stop you from finishing the joke with a grin of your own, “a waist of time!” Mammon blinked for a few seconds before letting out a long breath of air, laughing softly, “pppffffttt…! That’s so stupid, MC.” “Yeah, but you liked it.”

⁰Leviathan⁰

Leviathan takes his sweet time gaming and thus also takes his sweet time to reply to your messages, which you don’t always appreciate. Levi is also relatively easy to distract, though, and if there’s one thing he loves more than anything, besides Ruri-chan, it’s stupid jokes. The amounts of times he’s uttered stupid jokes with his gaming friends or even around the house is more than anyone can count. Not everyone understands his humor, or his love for those jokes, but it’s very clear he likes them. “Hey, Hey, Hey Levi! Guess what a computer calls his father?!” You scared him, in all honesty, and he almost fell out of his chair hearing your voice all of a sudden, “MC? W-Wha---.. I uhm… I don’t know?” You grinned at him before jumping up into the air, making it extra silly, “DATA!” It took him a few moments of just blinking at you, processing what just left your lips, but once he did, “bwhahahahahaHAHAHA!” Bingo. 

☼Satan☼

Satan was a little on the tricky end. He can be very funny, when he wants to be, but most of the time, he prefers to keep up that serious front. OR! He shows the type of humor that makes you wonder if he’s not actually a serial killer, or a psychopath, or runs his own cannibalism factory. “Hey Satan, what do you call a person with a briefcase in a tree?” Just get straight at it; don’t waste his time. He doesn’t even glance up, though, completely unimpressed. “A branch manager.” You gasped; how could he know that one? No way! “H-How did you already know that?! Satan!” A soft chuckle did escape him, although it’s more so because your want to make him laugh amuses him, “I read books, MC. If you think I don’t have at least one on terrible jokes, you’re mistaken.” 

♥Asmodeus♥

Asmodeus was a sweetheart and definitely the kind of person you want around when you’re planning to have fun, but that doesn’t mean he has the best jokes in tow. He’s just naturally funny, you know? The kind that makes you feel at ease and like you can let go, not the Levi kind that comes at you with the ‘what do you call…’ jokes. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t! “Hey, Asmo~ Why did the coffee call the police?” Confusion rushed over his face for a moment before he gasped and pointed softly at you, “because it got mugged!” A soft pout spread across your features at him knowing the joke but… he’s still laughing so it’s worth the miss, right?

§Beelzebub§

Beel… oh the sweet baby. Not really. He could easily break someone if he really wanted to, but he’s also the one with the softest side so thus he's baby. Problem is, babies don’t always have the brightest brains, do they? Beel is funny in the sense that he never realizes that things he does or says are funny. He’s the clueless funny, which makes things funny to you. So easy to get him confused. “Hey Beel… do you know how many tickles an octopus can take?” The giant shook his head, holding his stomach at the mention of octopus, “no but now I want an octopus…” That in turn made you laugh a bit, “TENTACLES!” Beel just looked at you confused before his pout of hunger sets in, “... do you think I can get ten octopuses, MC?”

▽Belphegor▽

Belphegor has such a bad sense of humor, he rivals Lucifer. It’s not even that he can’t laugh; it’s that Beel is usually the one to make him laugh OR it comes down to something bad happening to someone else. That’s what makes him laugh, although you’re trying to prove that that’s not the only thing that can make him laugh. You shook him awake one morning, whisper-yelling, “Hey. Hey Belphie! Have you heard the joke about the bed?” A groan erupted from the demon, who turned around to try and get away from you, “no, MC. I don’t care…” But you pulled him back toward you before taking his pillow and throwing it, “that’s because it hasn’t been made yet!” Terrible? Yes. Fitting for the situation? Yes. Will you need to run for throwing his pillow? Maybe…

[sepublic]

Belos and the Holy Grail AU

           But consider- An AU based on Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but it’s just Belos and his Emperor’s Coven trying to install order on behalf of the Titan, and sort of halfway succeeding and failing, mostly failing. They’re both about self-righteous jerks with alleged claims of divinity to the throne, going on ‘noble’ crusades only to cause trouble and murder, and are generally much more idiotic and incompetent than they let on to be, utter posers, and their minions aren’t much better.

           Belos is of course King Arthur… As Emperor, he was christened at a lake and given his sacred staff- A story which Eda (or the librarian whom is accompanied by Gary) immediately doubts and laughs at, before making a point about how we can see the violence inherent in the system. Accompanying Belos is his faithful servant, Steve! Owl Mask is Sir Bedevere; They both wear armor and are extremely devoted to their rulers… Kikimora is Lancelot, because they’re also generally more competent, but also likely bloodthirsty- The Season 2 intro seems to indicate this of Kikimora at least. Warden Wrath is Sir Robin, they’re both big chickens and cowards, and Lilith is Sir Galahad, who is trying not to get laid and then changes her mind, only for Kiki to ruin that for her.

           They briefly consider going to Belos’ castle, with a whole montage of the Emperor’s Coven and Guard doing a song and dance routine, before Belos dismisses it as a ‘silly place’. He gets a personal message from a disgruntled Titan to seek the Portal, and visits the Owl House, only to be taunted by Luz, Willow, and Gus. Hooty may or may not be what scares off Belos and the others in the end.

           Warden Wrath is accompanied by the head of the Bard Coven, who is his minstrel that’s constantly roasting him. Lilith thinks she finds the portal, but no it’s just a conveniently-shaped light and she tries to remain chaste, with Kikimora coming in at the last second; Lilith accuses her of being straight. Odalia has to explain over and over to Emira and Edric that they must guard Amity; Amity sends out a letter and Kikimora thinks it’s from an adult, so she goes through a whole rampage in Blight Manor, only to realize Amity is a child; Things are of course awkward. Because I love Emira and Edric, they survive Kiki’s assault. Odalia tries to use Kikimora as a substitute for Amity’s marriage to Boscha, but Kiki is having none of it and escapes while Amity does a song number. Before that, Alador is called in to kill Boscha’s mother so Odalia can claim guardianship.

           I’m not sure who the Knights of Ni are; The Demon Hunters, perhaps? Belos and Owl Mask get their shrubbery from either the Plant Coven Leader… or it’s Willow’s dads, but the joke is that every time they cut back to him, it’s always the other dad; So you have Willow’s bearded father talking, the camera cuts to Belos, and then it cuts back to Willow’s father with the glasses, and back and forth, and nobody ever comments on or notices this. They are “Mr. Park the Shrubber.”

           Tim the Enchanter is… I dunno, Adegast in his wizard guise perhaps? And the old man from Scene 24, AKA the bridge-keeper, could be the dude who scammed with the Bloom of Eternal Youth, or Principal Bump. I don’t want Lilith dying because of the former option, so I might stick with Bump; Wrath doesn’t know what the capital of the human world is, and Belos asks the bridge-keeper what type of griffin’s air speed velocity he’s looking for.

           The Killer Rabbit could be King… or Hooty. The Black Beast of Caerbannog is the Slither Beast, and their animator is either Dana Terrace or Spencer Wan. Jerbo questions how Belos has coconuts and Viney brings up different types of griffins as candidates. The story ends with Belos and Owl Mask confronting Luz and co. at their destination… With the Emperor’s Coven and Guard behind him, Belos charges forth to seize the portal, only to be arrested by regular human cops, because Principal Hal was killed and Camila identifies them. End film!

           There are roles that I’m not too sure about, and aren’t so specific that I’m not very stressed about it; Like the old lady that gets accosted for a shrubbery, the three-headed giant, the Black Knight, etc. I’ll figure it out another day. I’m sure Tibbles and Piniet will fit in here somewhere. Maybe the three-headed giant is the petrification statue, with each of the three statues speaking, and the warning signs of their attack isn’t a bunch of knights staked to a tree with a lance, but multiple petrified witches.

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.II

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A second chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

_________________

When Geralt wakes up in the morning, the sun is already high in the sky.

The bed is wide and comfortable, probably the most comfortable out of all the ones he'd ever slept in. The soft furs are a pleasant warmth against his bare skin and when he opens his eyes, he feels the most rested he'd been in a very long time.

It's long past breakfast and he feels a stab of guilt somewhere in his gut, seeing that he'd promised Julian he was going to join him but as it turned out, he was much more tired than he thought. The long weeks on the Path, the hunt the day before and the wounds on his shoulder have all worn him out, and it's only now that his body had finally caught on.

Geralt stretches with a soft moan, careful not to disturb his shoulder, and turns to his other side, looking around the room with heavy-lidded eyes.

In the warm light of the summer sun, it doesn't feel strange anymore.

The golds and reds of the interior make the room feel comfortable, even though it's a little too much for Geralt's taste. The room feels luxurious and Geralt can't even phantom the cost of the heavy velvet curtains or the paintings in golden frames but yet, it doesn't feel like too much .

It doesn't feel like a bedroom in a castle, where its only real purpose is showing the guests just how rich the host is. It feels like a bedroom of a home that someone loves and decorates accordingly. It just so happened that said home is an enormous mansion.

Geralt counts twelve pillows and cushions on the bed, all of them a deep ruby colour and varying in sizes, and, against his own better judgement, burrows himself deeper into them, his entire body melting into the soft silk sheets.

It's the exact opposite of what he should do, he knows it. He knows that this is not meant for him, that he's not supposed to pass the time in beds like this, burrowed in what probably are the best furs in the entire region, but somewhere deep in his bones, his body still aches with exhaustion and stress, and if he can have this, just once in his life, he's going to take it.

He just doesn't have it in him to deny himself this opportunity.

And Roach, he tells himself, needs a little more rest, too.

The forest behind the giant arc-shaped windows is tranquil, the wind a soft, calming whisper through the treetops, and Geralt doesn't even notice when he falls asleep again, warm and comfortable.

***

The second time he wakes, the sun is at its zenith, so it must be around midday.

Cursing under his breath, Geralt makes himself sit up on the bed and then get out of it completely, though very reluctantly. He'd never really had problems with getting out of bed, even when he was still an adept in Kaer Morhen and had to get up before sunrise every morning, and now this unfamiliar gravity feels strange but not unpleasant.

As he dresses, there is a knock on the door, and when he opens it, there is a tall man waiting in the hallway. Geralt can tell that he is in his fifties but the formal suit and perfect posture make him look younger.

"Master Witcher," he greets. "I hope I have not disturbed you. Master Julian asked me to take you into the dining room once you have woken up."

The majordomo, Geralt thinks.

He nods, saying that he needs a few minutes, and goes back to his armour, tightening all the straps and clasping the buckles, once again feeling a little twist of guilt for not having joined Julian in the morning, as he'd promised. It was plain rude of him, really, and though there weren't a lot of things that Geralt hated more than apologising, he knew he'd going to have to.

After all, there was only so much he could do.

He fixes the swords behind his back and looks around the room just one more time before stepping out of it and closing the door. It's almost upsetting that he'd only got to spend one night in a bed like that.

The majordomo takes him through the corridors and with the warm light streaming through the windows, they don't look ominous anymore, though the witcher still finds them absolutely endless. There are paintings, sculptures and potted plants along the walls, and though Geralt tries not to, he still finds himself looking around a little more than he should.

When they do finally reach the dining room with a big oil painting hung on one of the walls right across from the table, Julian isn't there.

"He must be outside," the butler says, turning around. "If you would follow me, master Witcher."

When the man walks past him, Geralt can feel his medallion hum against his chest but it stops just as abruptly, so he frowns but doesn't pay it much mind.

They take one of what Geralt assumes are many doors to the garden and it's only now that he realises how big it is. What he'd seen last night was but a fraction.

The trees and neatly shaped bushes surround the mansion from all sides, keeping it separated from the forest behind the gates, and it almost feels like a world of its own, independent from the one outside.

Geralt's senses immediately fill with the scent of blooming flowers and ripe fruit, the sound of bird songs and running water somewhere in the distance. A fountain, he decides.

And then, among those sounds, there's Julian's voice.

"Geralt," he smiles, appearing from somewhere behind the corner, a hand over his eyes to protect them from the sun. "I see you've already met Arthur."

"I have," the witcher nods, realising belatedly that he should've asked the majordomo's name himself.

Fuck, he thinks, I am not made for this kind of life.

"I hope you can forgive me for not having joined you for breakfast," he adds and he feels ridiculous , talking this way, but in a place like this, he can't help but feel like he's at court. "As it turns out, fighting off monsters is easier than the gravity of a bed like that."

Julian's smile shines brighter and he laughs, narrowing his eyes at the sun.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "I'm glad you've had some proper rest. But I’m afraid I cannot let you go with an empty stomach.”

It’s already past midday and Geralt knows that he should get going if he wants to get to the town he came from with no rush, get his coin and leave for the next one but he also knows that he can’t refuse.

“Come,” Julian says, brushing his hand over Geralt's arm and beckoning him deeper into the garden towards an arbour. “I’ll ask the stableman to get your horse ready while we eat.”

***

Without really realising, Geralt stays for a couple more hours.

Julian asks him about what’s led him to these regions - aside from the contract - and Geralt just… talks.

It’s easy, somehow - talking to him.

It almost feels natural and in the warm light of the day, Geralt doesn’t feel overwhelmed anymore.

He tells Julian about how he was headed to Oxenfurt when he’d heard about the contract that had led him here and then hums in agreement when, after a moment or two, Julian asks if he’s from the School of the Wolf.

“You seem to know the Schools much better than the majority of people I come across on the Path,” Geralt says, very dimly aware of how much time had passed.

Julian just shrugs with one shoulder, a smile on his lips, and gestures towards the library windows with a move of his wrist.

“I’ve read quite a lot about witchers, ever since the Academy,” he explains. “I’ve been friends with a medical student and one of her professors was rather… passionate about mutagens and the Trials. He would tell his students his thoughts on the matter every now and then, and she would then tell them to me, because we used to tell each other everything. I got interested and, before I really knew it, I’ve read everything the library could provide on the subject.”

An academic interest, Geralt thinks, watching the way Julian’s cornflower-blue eyes flick to the medallion on his chest and then back to one of the rose bushes that he’d been using as a distraction point during the entire conversation. When his gaze would linger for a little too long and he would notice, it would immediately snap to the rosebush.

It was almost… pleasant, the way he looked at Geralt with a glint in his eyes.

“And, well,” Julian goes on after a moment, meeting Geralt’s eyes again with an easy, relaxed smile. “My previous witcher guest was rather talkative. He stayed here for a couple of days and, once he learned about my interest, proposed that as a gratitude for my hospitality, he shall answer any questions that I might have about witchers. I took on the opportunity and, somehow, we stayed up until the early hours of the morning, just talking, every day that he was here.”

Geralt chuckles, reluctantly admitting to himself that maybe, if he was to stay for another day or two, they could also stay up and talk well into the night.

But, of course, that is not an option. Roach is well-rested, and his shoulder is bandaged, there are no more reasons for him to stay. After all, he was an uninvited guest, to begin with.

But even so, he almost feels sorry that he has to leave, because Julian just… talks to him.

Like they’re equals, like Geralt isn’t a result of Trials and mutations - a monster hunter, yes - but also a killer. He doubts that there is anyone in the North that has not heard of The Butcher of Blaviken, the white-haired witcher that had caused carnage in the middle of the town.

But Julian doesn’t smell of fear, doesn’t smell of hatred. He talks to him not like Blaviken had never happened, he talks to him like he knows why it happened. Like he knows he had to choose between two wrong options and not choosing at all was more than he could bear.

Don’t get lost in your illusions, Geralt has to tell himself quickly, cutting his train of thought short, He’s just abiding by the rules of hospitality, he doesn't even know about Blaviken.

“What did you say his name was?” he asks, just to drown out his own voice in his head. “Aiden?”

Julian hums an affirmative and it almost feels like that name is familiar to Geralt, but he can’t remember, how. Must’ve heard it somewhere, he decides.

“I’ve seen him a couple more times after that, actually,” Julian says. “Whenever he’s nearby, he comes to visit.”

When Geralt bites his tongue, it’s too late and the question had already been spoken:

“Just a friend?”

Fuck, he thinks, immediately.

Julian’s eyes snap to meet his, slightly widened with surprise and Geralt half-expects anger but the younger man just laughs, open and sweet, like a birdsong.

“Yes, for better or for worse,” he says. “There is another that owns his heart. Or, at least, so I’m told.”

Geralt has no idea on what he’s supposed to say to that so, instead, he chooses to stand up promptly.

“Well,” he says, controlling his voice carefully. “I’m afraid, I must leave now. The alderman must be expecting me.”

Julian stands up, as well, and, thankfully, doesn’t comment on the much more obvious reason for the witcher’s sudden desire to leave. And if he does take Geralt up and down once before stepping out of the arbour and leading his back towards the stables, Geralt admits that he deserves it.

***

“I hope the alderman pays you what he’d promised,” Julian says when they reach the gates, Geralt leading Roach by the reins.

He’s usually good at reading people’s emotions - either by smell or by the look in their eyes - but the shadow that slithers across the blue of Julian’s eyes when he looks at the forest beyond the gates is not something he can identify. His scent changes, too, an undertone of something that Geralt can’t describe in any way other than longing mixing into Julian’s own smell - something warm and almost familiar, like vanilla and dried herbs.  

This time Geralt stops himself in time and doesn’t ask.

“Thank you,” he says instead, pulling himself up into the saddle. “For everything. Last night would’ve been a hard one if it wasn’t for you.”  

Julian smiles at him, running his hand up and down Roach’s neck which, strangely, she seems to enjoy.

“My pleasure,” he replies and when he takes his hand away, Geralt has to tell himself that the way the tips of his fingers brush over his knee is accidental.

Julian opens the gates and steps aside to let Geralt and Roach through, Lucio and Asra at his side like they have always been there, even though the witcher is sure that they were absent back in the arbour.

“Travel safe,” Julian says when Geralt turns around to look at him and the mansion one last time.

It’s strange, hearing it from anyone other than his brothers or Vesemir, and though he replies with only a carefully guarded nod, it turns something over deep inside his chest.

[prairiedust]

The Further Folklore of Supernatural

Here’s a little more folklore meta in light of how season 15 has been playing out if anyone is game. I genuinely thought that Moriah would be the end of the folklore stuff and tossed out “Folk the Author” as an “epilogue,” so this is probably less of an addendum than it is a waymarker as I try to continue to parse these themes into the last seven episodes.

Welp. *waves hands at everything* THIS is not how anyone expected 2020 to go. Things got a little bit big and I stopped thinking about Spn in light of needing that energy elsewhere. But I also don’t want this crapfest to ruin how I fan my favorite show, so here I go again. I will attempt a TL;DR, too!

If you’ve read my old “folklore” analysis here about how I think fairy tales and all their baggage fit into Supernatural season 14, you know that I believe Castiel has stepped into a Sleeping Beauty type story, and that coincidentally a few themes and symbolism from Snow White kept popping up around Dean. (I hold Sam to be a Protagonist in the modern “literary fiction” sense of the word, but emotionally, thematically, and narratively he’s always been a little inaccessible to me. I finally understood him when the death-of-the-author plot surfaced, and I’ll get to Sam eventually here. And Jack, there’s a little Jack in here, too.) 

If you would rather have the TL;DR than read several thousands of words about how folklore and myth *might* be abstractly connected to an American genre show, all I can say is that I tried. The textual support is all in the folklore posts. This is as succinct a summary as I could fabricate. At least I’m not gonna talk about Sam and bricolage and freeplay! This is an almost completely theory-free post! If you don’t want to read or don’t need a refresher and just want to know how this has been working in 15, you can scroll down to “END OF TL;DR”.

So, to catch up, I’m not talking about the folklore and mythology that this show has always relied on for plot and MOTWs. I wasn’t drilling down into urban legends like Hook Man or world folk monsters like shtrigas or pishtacos. By “folklore” I mean the study of storytelling tropes and tale types that have been with us for ages. One of the many subtexts of the end of the series. I’ve been tracking this because I think it’s fun to see how fairy tale imagery and mythology might layer preconscious suggestions into the text of the show. I personally think it was loud enough to be seen easily, but more than likely viewers felt unsettled, felt cheered, or felt like they knew what was coming? I’m curious to know. Anyway.

When we found out that Kelly Kline was going to name her baby “Jack” waaaaay back in season 12, things started chiming. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack the Giant Killer. Jack Tales. Jack is a powerful Western character, sort of a cross between a noble hero and a trickster, featuring in stories that often blur lines and boundaries. He is both the poor man’s youngest son and the equal to King Arthur’s heir. Jack is both everyman and extraordinary. Jack is so cool, I wish I had more time to parse that but his qualities are not subtle in the text/subtext, anyway.

But back to my half-crack reading of seasons 14 and 15. 

Once upon a time in Supernatural, there were two fairy tales being told. Both fairy tales are found all over the world and in many forms, but they all can be grouped together because they all contain shared elements of the same basic plot or shared themes, and these two in particular are sister stories. So when I mention “Sleeping Beauty,” I’m talking about lots of different versions of the folk tale, and the same for “Snow White,” which can be found in one form or another in storytelling traditions all over the place. It is both helpful and irritating that these are both Disney movies, too.

Jack makes an allusion to Sleeping Beauty in 14x03 The Scar while talking to Castiel-- it’s the kind of subtextual flash that in and of itself means little and proves nothing, but then beginning with The Scar we got three stories in a row that dealt with “sleepers” of some sort-- Lora in 14x03 doomed to die because of a witch’s spell, Stuart in 14x04 Mint Condition in a coma because of a ghost attack, and Sasha’s father in 14x05 Nightmare Logic under the spell of a clever djinn. It’s powerful subtext, like a soft light that bathes these episodes in the color of fairy tale and makes Jack’s Dramatic Swoon at the end of Optimism all the more Dramatic-- subtext amplifying the plot. Jack goes to Heaven, but is eventually cornered by the Shadow, who wants him in the Empty where he will sleep forever-- the Shadow being an entity who has claimed the husks of dead angels since their inception and thus implies a “curse” laid on Jack from the moment he came into being-- but Castiel, who is ever a thief in oh so many ways, makes a bargain with the Shadow and essentially takes over the consequences of Jack’s Sleeping Beauty story (hence my rarely used but hilarious tag “Castiel Thief of Endings.”)

Now that we know from 14x20 Moriah that the Shadow and Billie the Reaper are, if not allies, at least working together when Jack is awakened in the Empty, does that mean that Castiel’s deal is still on the table, or has that fate been thwarted? *pounds table* Was Jack’s death and Chuck’s rise as a “greater threat” in 14x20 enough to shift Castiel’s ending? It’s the kind of subtextual question that lends tension to the narrative and it’s what I am here for. 

Well, speaking of thwarted expectations, Dean’s arc was being shadowed by a Snow White tale type. We all know Snow White but why don’t I sum it up anyway, since Disney messed up the folktale ending lol. Snow White is cast out of her home by her jealous stepmother (and echoes of the stepmother’s magic mirror show up in 15x02 Gods and Monsters) who sends her huntsman to kill her; the dude can’t do it and turns the girl loose in the forest instead. Snow White joins a band of outsiders who live in the forest-- in the Disney movie and the Grimms’ tale they are dwarfs, in some versions she happens upon a band of robbers-- and they love her very much and we presume she’s safe for the rest of her life; Michael mysteriously turns Dean loose to join Sam’s gathering of hunters, however we know, like Stepmom, Michael is still out there. The stepmother finds out that Snow White is actually alive and contrives to kill her herself. Eventually succeeding, Snow White appears to die and is usually laid to rest in a crystal casket/glass coffin. Her stepmother’s machinations have _stolen her agency_ (further paralleling Dean’s possession by AU!Michael.) A Handsome Prince stumbles upon Snow White, is besmitten with her, and he asks her protectors if he can have her, as one does. Leaving the Disney adaptation aside, Snow White awakens when whatever item that has caused her death-like state is dislodged (piece of apple in her throat) or removed (magic corset) or withdrawn (poisoned hairpin) by her protectors. Snow White is a story about the community of the dwarves of band of robbers or adopted family caring deeply for her, and when Dean starts making his own crystal casket, the ma’lak box, in which he will ride out eternity in tormented symbiosis with Apocalypse Michael, he has to rely on his family to help him see the plan through. However, here’s where Jack-- who is as much a chaos engine as his surrogate father Castiel if not more so-- steps in and ruins the ending. Jack smites Michael. Dean Winchester is saved. Again. To put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, Jack later destroys the ma’lek box entirely. 

That was quite the surprise ending… for one of the stories.

Was the end of season 14 the end of the Sleeping Beauty theme, also?

END OF TL;DR

I quit writing about “folklore” for a while, but that doesn’t mean it stopped being a theme. It just stopped being fun to write about as the story got more and more dark, and when it transmuted into two parallel themes of “folklore” or storytelling by the people versus Death of the Author--or storytelling by a lauded authority-- and there was so much angst about the boundaries of Chuck’s powers, I just wanted to sit back and enjoy that. I did distill my thoughts about Sam’s new arc in the DotA plot, which I thought would subsume the folktale themes but hey, we still have folktales around, too. I mean, we have Sam and we have Dean, and we have two “literary” subtexts, or maybe rather two subjects about the nature of story, something that I thought was a little bit of a surprise.

Storytelling was a Feature of 15x07 Last Call, both in the sense that Lee and Dean swap new stories and tell old tales of their adventures together as they catch up, but also in the sense that we got additional “text”-- hints of a backstory where John and Dean hunted with Lee in that swampy long-ago “Stanford era,” and again we get storytelling when _Lee recounts how he ended up keeping a marid in his basement_. There is also an allusion to the Thousand and One Arabian Nights in that episode that I yelled about in a meta that I never put on the interwebs, but the “marid” is in a specific tale in many editions of that collection, and thus calls in not only a different folktale tradition but the concept of a framed/nested narrative, which I believe will be important to understanding the last episodes of the series, but that’s an aside. In 15x08 Our Father Who Aren’t In Heaven, Castiel _tells Michael the story_ of how everyone ended up where they are now to convince him to help. And Michael and Adam’s allyship, if not friendship, was probably the best subversion of any “storytelling” expectation we’ve ever had on this show. Belphagor set us up for “room full of crazy” or something, but, no. We got symbiosis. 

That almost sums up how I’ve been viewing the last “era” of spn. This wasn’t in the master post, but I shouted a lot about underworlds before 15x09 Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory, and then stopped shouting because I had to ferment for a while. Also, as has been mentioned, the world turned to crap. But talking to other meta writers during the ramp up to the resumption of the season helped me realize just why this reading of myth to folktales to literature feels so right.

Underworlds and Otherworlds…. Everybody has crossed into an “underworld” or three in Supernatural, it’s really nbd. It was actually surface-level plot in season 13. By the time 15x09 rolled around, our heroes are just, like, strolling in and out of “sealed off” Hell after doing a level one spell and chilling with Billie in the Empty and even that Purgatory trip didn’t have the same feeling of danger that, say, crossing into the AU did. But also, we’re at the point where subtext is leading us to a _satisfactory_ ending. Where before we had serial text, like a cumulative tale type-- “The House that Jack Built”-- which just kept adding more and more plot, we’re hurtling o’er the apex of Freytag’s pyramid now and things are getting loud.

But they’re also getting very shifty.

I wrote a little bit about Sam Winchester successfully reviving Eileen in 15x06 Golden Time and the “Orpheus and Eurydice” symbolism of him keeping his back to her. (I’m not linking it because it’s so, so rough.) But because Sam is not an underworld hero, not completely-- I see him as a modern Protagonist coming to terms in a psychoanalytical model with things like mortality, fallibility, and mastery-- maybe bildungsroman, even -- he was able to subvert the tragic ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice because it is not “his” story. But if I were pressed to find a mythic or folk tale type to measure Sam against, I could. I would probably sideye “the sorcerer’s apprentice” trope (ATU 325-The Magician and his Pupil :D ) which began as a poem that entered European folklore on different fronts. (and weirdly, that story was also Disnified in Fantasia. That’s probably more my own limitation as a gen x american lol than anything coming from the writer’s room.)

Dean got his moment in Purgatory where he was able to finally come to grips with his anger and heal the rift between himself and Castiel because Purgatory is a different kind of underworld. Dean is a successful threshold-crosser, having crossed that boundary out of Purgatory before, but in 15x09, his prayer to Castiel is all a subtextual evocation of doing the emotional and mental work of therapy, which Sam, as a modern protagonist, is usually caught up in. The mythic hero also deals with mortality, failibilty, and mastery, but in different terms. I hope I’m doing an okay job peeling apart these nuances that I’m seeing.

Since Castiel accompanied Dean to Purgatory, and in the past made his own wildly successful incursion into and out of Hell with Dean’s soul, and was the one in The Trap who actually retrieved the Leviathan blossom, Castiel counts as an underworld hero, too, but you can pull the lever and send the tumblers spinning again and make him a fairy tale character in that he has made this Bargain with the Empty which is both in the “modern” tradition of subverting a fairy tale, and the tale type “deal with the devil.” Or he could be seen as a modern protagonist in that he’s lowkey grappling with questions of selfhood and identification. “I am an angel of the lord.” “I am no one.” “It’s Steve, now.” “You are nothing.” “I am an angel.”

We even got an episode that playfully explored the concept of “hero” by subverting our expectations (Sam and Dean were rescued by, of all people, an upgraded Garth.) It was called The Hero’s Journey, after the Joseph Campbell book about mythic heroes.... !!! Like, what??? !!!! I didn’t even have anything to say about that episode, it just rocked. The “meta” was just all out there in plot, like the olives and boiled eggs in a 1950’s gelatin recipe. 

Some of this slipperiness in the subtext points right at the study of folklore and the (admittedly Eurocentric at first) efforts to transform a “soft science” into something approaching scientific rigor. The Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale index is today a codifying or cataloguing tool, with which anthropologists and literature scholars can line up stories based on the motifs found within them-- it is useful for cataloguing tales, making comparative studies, and for trying to trace these stories back through human history to find the One First Story of that type, for instance the ur-story that led to Snow White. When did people first start telling that tale, where, how did it spread, and why are we still telling it today? The danger in using the ATU index is that by stripping a story down to it’s bones, we lose the story, if that makes sense. The beauty of using the ATU index is that you find many, many more interconnected stories. It’s sort of a paradox. Some scholars criticize the ATU, claiming that one could take a random selection of these motifs and shuffle them to create a story and, you sort of could? That’s the beauty of the system. 

So that brings us to Jack. I feel like Jack, as in Jack of all Trades, is anything that the narrative needs him to be. As far as I can find, “Jack” is not a “tale type.” He shows up alongside any number of them-- sometimes as a trickster, sometimes as a hero, almost always as a kind of slippery character. In the first folklore post, I invested many words in exploring Dabb’s obsession with threes-- AU Michael asks three beings what they desire, asks his human victim to guess his name three times, then we follow three sleeper stories, and so on. The original TFW was three people. But Jack makes four. 

What is Jack’s story going to be?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And speaking for a sec about the origins of myth and folklore-- what about ALL OF THE OTHER PEOPLE in the world? Are they lowkey churning the matrix of reality on their own and generating their own content, like Becky and her AO3 stories and mackettes? 

*¯\_(ツ)_/¯ intensifies*

It all just feels so good at this point, even the peril that I feel surrounding Castiel.

I *think* this will be the last of the longform metas before the end of the series. I mean, I can only hope so. I’ll drop some stuff about individual episodes that might be applicable as I rewatch, and I might clean up my post about Last Call and drop it on here, but I just wanted to kind of hold this up as a mile marker before the Final Seven air.

[harmonymurphy]

And just for my records, I think I had the most profoundly disturbing dream of my life last night, about the sun failing. One of those dreams that wouldn’t be that disturbing to anyone I describe it to, and the physics was laughably illogical, but I’ve never experienced such a deep sense of existential dread inside a dream before. Probably one of those “you had to be there” experiences.

I’ve had dreams about serial killers after watching Forensic Files. I’ve had dreams of hauntings and demonic possessions after reading too many supposedly true ghost stories. But last night’s dream was the product of my fascination with astronomy. And that’s not something I’m willing to take a break from.

In my dream, I walked outside and noticed the lighting was wrong. It was like during an eclipse where everything is too dim but your shadow is still normal. I looked up at the sun, and it looked like Hoag’s Object. It was much bigger than it should have been, with the central part being a little bigger than a full moon, but it was dim enough that I could look right at it.

After a few minutes of panic, an emergency message was broadcast on all channels announcing that scientists at NASA had come up with a hypothetical way to study the sun’s core. They had discovered some sort of energy beam that would cause convective currents to dissipate. In my dream, the entire sun down to the edge of the core was convective. They thought if they zapped it at the sun, it would interfere with the convective layers and allow then to view the core directly. So they tried it without clearing it with the rest of the scientific community, and the beam completely shut down the sun’s convection. Not just the little spot they planned on, but the entire sun. What I could see up in the sky was the sun’s exposed core, the surrounding gas was now clear since it wasn’t producing light anymore, and the ring around the sun was the remnants of the sun’s corona. (Clearly my subconscious got really confused and squished together aspects of the sun, red dwarfs and white dwarfs, and the Trappist-1 system and how close those planets are to their sun.  I’m actually a little embarrassed at how wrong the science was.)

So everyone started demanding they come up with a solution to fix the sun, and all they could come up with was maybe they could hit the sun with a nuke to restart the nuclear reactions, but it would take years for them to design and implement that plan, and they didn’t think they could produce an explosion big enough. And in the meantime, Earth was rapidly cooling. It was already feeling like late autumn outside and they expected the planet to go full Snowball Earth within twenty years. The dim light the sun’s core was putting out somehow couldn’t be used for photosynthesis by plankton, so the oceans were going to collapse by next year, and crops were going to start failing.

I went back outside and looked up at the sun again and started screaming for someone to please wake me up because this couldn’t be real. Then I had this epiphany that this was the solution to the Fermi Paradox: Every alien civilization eventually reached a point where they turned their sun off and their planet froze.

People started going crazy since everyone was going to die soon anyway. A big mob attacked our town and my sister and I were surrounded. Then this guy ran up to us and brandished this three-foot-tall sculpture made of metal plates and said it was an idol of a new god he had just discovered, and since science had betrayed us, the supernatural was our only hope. The mob attacked, and he started praying to his new god, and the sculpture zapped all the people trying to attack us. I started praying with him and briefly was able to shoot electricity out of my hands like the Emperor. After the mob fled, we got the rest of the town to form a circle and all started calling on the god, and up above us the sun’s core brightened for a few seconds, then dimmed again. The guy declared that the gods had forsaken us and all hope was truly lost, and he took his idol and left.

After that, the dream alternated between me discussing options with my sister, and going outside and begging someone to wake me up. We talked about finding the guy with the idol and getting the biggest group we could together to call on his god, but  I eventually just sat down in the middle of a road and decided it was hopeless. There was no point in doing anything if we’d all be dead in twenty years. I was thinking about the books I want to write and how there was no point in that now. Every time I looked at the sun, I felt the same way I felt in the days after my father died, when I’d be kept up most of the night by panic attacks at the thought that he was gone forever. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that level of despair in a dream.

Eventually I started discussing suicide with my sister. We didn’t want to starve or freeze. Someone was handing out syringes of poison, and we each took one. But then I realized I’d have to put my chihuahua Rocky to sleep first because I refused to leave him by himself, and I just couldn’t do that. So we agreed we’d stay alive until Rocky died and then we’d end it. And then I realized I couldn’t find Rocky, and I was worried someone might try to eat him since there would be a food shortage soon, so my dream became one of those where you keep running and running but you never make any progress, and I kept looking up at the sun, consumed with the thought that everything was about to come to an end and all of human history was for nothing, and I just couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me.

And then my sister woke me up, and I have never been that happy to wake up in my life. I almost thanked her for waking me up, but then I realized I didn’t want to tell her about my dream. I just sat there and kept telling myself it was just a dream over and over, because no matter how bad and illogical the science was, no matter how backwards my mind got the details of how stars work, it had felt so real. I was going to sit with my sister while we ate supper, but I still felt so disturbed by the dream that I kept zoning out and staring off into space at nothing, so I decided to eat in my room alone.

I can point to a dozen little things from the past week that inspired the dream. Primarily it was based off my real fear of the future red giant phase of the sun - watching videos about it actually scares me. This week I had been thinking about a game called Outer Wilds that involves a time loop that always ends with their sun exploding, and while I think it looks interesting, the premise also stirs up my sense of existential dread. Other things were inspired by a song I had been listening to the previous night containing the line “I don’t want the sun to burn without you,” the Hadron Collider, stellar lifting (and probably several other things I learned about from Isaac Arthur that I’ll remember in the next few days), videos I’ve watched recently that discussed Snowball Earth and the evolution of plankton, the Chicxulub impact, that ongoing attempt to get a space probe to touch the sun with gravitational help from Venus that will take several years to complete, memories of my brother telling me scientists thought there might be a chance hydrogen bombs would ignite the atmosphere or the Van Allen belts but they blew them up anyway (never fact-checked that so don’t quote me), the concept of strange matter and how it could “infect” anything it touched, the danger of astrophysical jets from a supernova,  and wondering if the sun could have habitable planets if it was fully convective like a red dwarf since the sun spins so slowly and a lot of those dangerous flares are a result of how fast red dwarfs spin. The weird supernatural elements were inspired by some stories I’ve been wanting to write lately, as well as my recent replay of the game Blue Fire with its very bleak setting and mythology. And a Youtuber I follow had recently read a creepypasta with a title that referenced solving the Fermi Paradox,

All in all, I would rather have a dozen nightmares about demons chasing me through the woods than one more nightmare based on science. I can still make myself shiver by focusing on how I felt when I looked up at the sun and realized the world was dying.

[eagesoldartblog]

@nemesis-is-my-middle-name

Congrats you set me off time to RAMBLE about this fucking au Bc I adore it

So small Cw: this is heavily based /inspired by madoka Magica, also demons! Idk, just felt like y’all should know that real quick- also, this has.. a sadder end :,)

So let’s start off!

Lewis pepper died in the cave, but rose soon after. Not because of him wanting to stay, nor wanting revenge. Infact, if he was left alone, he would have maybe returned as a ghost or simply passed on. But no, he’s awoken a few days later by a red spirit that resembles a cat, with hearts and a blank smile. Their name is Dellila! It explains that as Lewis died, he made a wish- to live again, to survive. So they granted it!

But, everything is at a cost, and Lewis is aware of this, he’s terrified at the thought because he can’t remember his wish. But Dellila reassures him, and explains the process of wish making.

Because of his wish, he was granted magical powers, and he now has one task to fulfill in order to have his wish fully granted. In order for his life to be returned to him, and be allowed to walk to earth as a human again, he must make use of his new power...

And get revenge.

Lewis is horrified by this, because they explain clearly. He has to confront his killer, take his life in order to regain his. And immediately, Lewis makes a plan that he keeps to himself. He doesn’t want revenge, if he can, he wants to find Arthur and learn why. Surely there’s a reason..! It must have been an accident! ... Arthur wasnt lying this whole time... was he?

Dellila doesn’t give him time to think about it, instead, they make him get up and explain why they grant these wishes. While yes- it is to fulfill a certain wish- the world is full of evil spirits and malicious specters that harm humans and spread evil. Lewis’s job for now, is to deal with any spirit that comes close, and obliterate them.

They help him transform for the first time, and show him how he can utilize his abilities to their full extent. How to summon weapons, how to create a pocket dimension around him (referred to as a  labyrinth and FULL of symbolism just wait), and how to transform into his magical form. Lewis goes through with it-

And he discovers very quickly how painful it is. Having strands of gold silk wrap around his limbs and burst into roses and gold flecks. His hair begins to resemble a rose, he takes on a uniform that is beautiful and elegant. And Lewis can’t stop himself from crying while doing so. It hurts. It feels wrong. But it doesn’t stop, and he forms his first labrynth. It’s an oddly shamed dome of stained glass, filled and layered with rose bushes, piano keys, violin strings. Giant knives and spikes and pillars that you would find in a temple rather than in this surreal place. To make it all the more creepy, the dome itself seems to resemble a rib cage, with stage curtains draping from it, and in the very center? A golden chandelier that one could only assume is the heart.

Last but not least, Dellila helps him form his special anchor. Something that contains his soul, a link to keep him grounded and help him control his powers. Under no circumstances should it be destroyed, nor should any spirit touch it- lest the damage it takes on will be inflicted on him.

He gets used to it though, and he sets off on dealing with any spirit he comes across- fighting against the empathy he feels because he doesn’t believe that the spirits are truly evil. Most of them run from him, and the few who do fight only do so when he provoked them. But time and time again, Lewis attacks, he fights, he wins...

And Dellila eats the remnants of those spirits. Encouraging him to keep going. He’s cleansing the world with every fight.

They wouldn’t lie to you, Lewis, remember that.

But on the other hand, some others are noticing what’s happening. Mystery and Vivi - Vivi who is herself a powerful yokai, made of ice- recognize the labrynth, they see the magical spirit fighting, and they know what’s happened. The demon of the cave captured another.

Because you see- there wasn’t just one demon in the cave they explored, the two knew this, and the wanted Arthur and Lewis to stay away and let them handle it. But they were foolish and tagged along anyway.

Now Arthur has no arm, and Lewis is dead. The green demon, who takes the form of fog and crawls onto the recesses of your mind to torment and torture you until you give in. And the red demon, who claims lives by feeding hope to their collective victim.

This isn’t the first time that the two yokai dealt with them, no... Vivi’s old friend was named Dellila, and she knows just how twisted it is for the bastard to take her friends name.

Lewis is in danger, and they have to save him, but they have to do it alone. Arthur can’t come. They tell him. Vivi makes sure he knows.

But Arthur doesn’t want them going on their own, he wants to save Lewis too! :)

Meanwhile, Vivi and Mystery are hunting the labrynth down. It isn’t hard, since Lewis’s attacks are near brutal and dramtic, and it’s easy to infiltrate. Instead of facing Lewis head on though? They try to sneak past him, to find his anchor. To find whats linking him to Dellila.

And Arthur is following behind, getting lost in the labrynth, but pushing through the curtains and bushes and searching for his friends-

And Arthur, the unluckiest man in the world, finds Lewis. At first Lewis doesn’t even notice him, exhausted after battling a wraith, but when Arthur calls out, Lewis is shocked, relieved! And for a moment, Lewis smiles and tries to leap down from the heart of the labrynth to hug his friend-

But before he could even mutter Arthurs name. Something changes. The gold and purples suddenly shift. The rose bushes become thorns, the giant knives sticking high above the ground become spikes- stalagmites! Fire begins to grow, and he’s trapped in the arena. Lewis’s smile is gone. His eyes, a deep, unforgiving red.

Dellila never told him, but Lewis never had a choice in how he would confront his killer.

Arthur gets to watch as the labrynth shifts and turns all on him, as weapons appear in Lewis’s hand, drawn and aimed directly at him-

But before Lewis could try to strike- he’s stopped by the love of his life, and her dog. And a battle breaks out. Lewis exploding with fire and sending out deadbeat minions to wound and harm them, only for Vivi and mystery to deflect the attacks expertly.

Of course, Lewis is still powerful, and he can’t control the anger he feels as he tries to slash into Vivi- who is betraying him-!

Only for a sharp set of teeth to snap down on his anchor- and forcing Lewis to the ground. Mystery didn’t want to, but he has Lewis’s anchor tightly clenched in his jaw, and the resulting wounds cover Lewis entirely until he’s screaming and crying. It’s unbearable.

Meanwhile, Arthur can only watch. Watch as his friends tear themselves apart... watches as frost bites at the golden anchor and Lewis’s body freezes from shock- before his body seems to disintergrate into rose petals, and mystery lets him go. Sorrowful. Vivi and him have yet to noticed Arthur, but they know he’s there. That’s not what’s important right now-! They have to get the anchor with the dormant Lewis and leave-!

But sooner or later, Dellila has to come out. With smiles and hearts and a cheery, happy grin.

And their expression doesn’t change as they snatch the anchor before Vivi or msytery could stop them,

And they smash it. Swallowing the soul that seeps out. Thanking and condemning Arthur aloud for his contributions- his friend is now really gone! And it’s all his fault~

Now the question is, what happens from here?

Because when mystery and Vivi turn to grab Arthur and get out, Arthur has vanished. They don’t know where he is.

They can only fear the worst. And hope that those horrible demons don’t take on a new face

[katabay]

L'APPEL DU VIDE

okay so. jack! jack. what a collection of guys. the overlap between jack and the beanstalk and jack the giant killer, though. that sure is something! sometimes king arthur is there, which always takes me by surprise.

this. specifically. is an idea I've been kicking around. jack and the beanstalk is not a story I've ever enjoyed, as a kid it was probably my least favorite to read. as an adult, I was INTENSELY fascinated by reading j.g. ballard's the drowned giant. I think about it frequently, and somewhere during a re read of it, I ended up revisiting jack.

combining different versions of jack into one character is not a new concept, but it IS a fun one! the version I've been assembling together plays less with the fun elements of a jack story (and adjacent folklore stories), and focuses more on the potential for tragic elements with the addition of the usual grim and jagged narrative edges that I personally enjoy.

jack with the backstory of the devil and the three golden hairs, only jack doesn't find love, he's TIRED, all he wants to do is go home, but there isn't a home to go back to. what is the point of being born lucky if this is what it gets you? jack the giant killer, only he doesn't want to kill giants, jack who saw a body of a giant when he was a small child and cannot bring himself to do as a king commands. jack, who climbs up the beanstalk and stops halfway to look down. etc.

to go back to the drowned giant real quick, both to set the tone about jack seeing the body of a giant as a youth, and also because I've been haunted and obsessed with this excerpt of it ever since I read it:

J. G. Ballard, The Drowned Giant

anyway! this was originally like, a two illustration concept to get out of my system. however. I'm halfway through outlining a narrative. so. maybe it will also be several illustrations and also comic.

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[kob131]

The Lostbelts: Explicitly a story arc with grey and grey morality. Chaldea: Decides to commit global scale genocide with no hesitation and never even considers trying to find another option. Galahad: well if Chaldea represents that timeline's version of humanity I see no raeson why I should be helping them over any of the other timelines. Fate fandom: REEEEEEEEEE!!!

A. The other timelines explictedly fuck over their residents. As in, LB1 is all about survival of the fittest which fucks over it’s residents. LB2 forces humanity (specifically young women) to be sacrificed to man eating giants. LB3 people are forced into being ignorant. LB4 routinely purges those that the King views as “evil” in a hellish cycle of reincarnation. LB5 has humanity become mindless slaves to uncaring gods. And LB6? We haven’t been there yet and we already know it’s even worse than LB5, with humanity being on the verge of extinction and implied that the king there is fucking VORTIGERN.

All six we know about are worse than the original.

Literally the only thing that is even remotely grey is that destroying the Lostbelts will erase the inhabitants.

B. Speaking of-CHALDEA DOES HESITATE. In fact, if you played or even looked up LB1, you’d know that Ritsuka almost commits suicide by cop only to be saved by a resident of the Lostbelt all but explictedly telling him that the Lostbelt doesn’t deserve to stand if it means his world is gone.

And C. Galahad knows fuck all of the Lostbelts. He fucks off before they even SEE one. He fucks off because ‘It’s Ritsuka’s fault that the Alien God destroyed everything by killing Goetia because at least there would be something left BTW I’mma gonna take back the powers I gave the girl who MADE GOETIA’S DEFEAT POSSIBLE so she can’t fight properly and, say, FIX THIS SITUATION THAT BY MY LOGIC I CAUSED.’

Galahad isn’t supporting anyone, he’s being a child and blaming everyone else for a situation that no one is at fault for or, by his logic, HE’S at fault for.

No shit Galahad’s getting shat on. Look at the other Round Table members. Arturia may have been foolish but she never stopped trying to protect humanity even at her own expense. Lancelot may have stuck his dick in the queen but he defected in Camelot and helped protect humanity. Gawain maybe overly emotional and blindly loyal but he still acts for the sake of humanity. Agravain maybe cruel but he still tries his best for his king and his kingdom. Fucking MORDRED, The Knight or Treachery, the killer of King Arthur, the destroyer of Camelot has worked in the better interest of humanity TWICE now (Apocrypha and Grand Order).

In fact, the second and last examples really shows how little of an excuse Galahad has. Galahad has had everything Mordred didn’t, up to and including a childhood with loving parents (as shown by Lancelot) and not say a missing dad and what is implied to be a MASSIVELY abusive mother, a favorable upbringing as Lancelot’s recognized kid unlike Mordred being seen as a bastard (despite the fact that in Arthurian Myth he’s a rape baby too), seen as the best knight while Mordred is seen as a monster and yet she’s still being a better knight than him.

And Lancelot? The man who he decries to the point that literally the only thing Mash knew was ‘Lancelot was totes a bad dad’? He’s lived his life trying to right his wrongs (and his wrongs in hindsight aren’t even that bad) to the point he’s driven mad by it. The man he pins all the blame on and bashes is by far one of the better knights of the Round Table even with the ‘fucking Guinievere’ thing while the best thing Galahad has to his name is...what exactly? Saving Mash that one time? Which he is currently trying to undo?

Galahad is not only a shitty knight, he’s THE shittiest knight of Fate’s Round Table. And again, that includes a torturer (Agravain) and a killer (Mordred). All while pretending he’s somehow better than one of the better ones.

[humanmoodring-retired]

Let’s End a Mime or Nadia (LEMON) || POTW Solo

Summary: I hope no one here thought I’d let Nadia get away with no mime clone shenanigans.

Warnings: Gore

Having only been home from the hospital for about an hour, Nadia was washing her face when she heard Rhiannon give a low growl and jump off the bed. “I’m not fucking feeding you this late,” Nadia called after the cat as she dried off. “You’re already, like, a giant. I don’t want you to get obese, too.” The kitten had been growing a lot in the months since Nadia found her, but she didn’t want her to become unhealthy. Nadia had never had a pet before; she wasn’t gonna fuck it up on the first go around, even if Rhi was a brat.

“Hey, come on,” Nadia called, walking into the living room, “I at least want to lay down for a few…” her voice trailed off as she saw Rhiannon, tail puffed up, hissing. Across from the cat, leaning down and making kissy faces to try and get her attention, was a mime.

A mime that looked far, far too similar to Nadia. As Nadia stood, completely still and with held breath, the mime looked up at her, smiled. She stood tall, her striped sweater as loose and comfy looking as the one Nadia herself was wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” Nadia said.

“Oh fuck,” the mime mouthed back, no sound coming out as she tilted back her head and laughed.

This was the last thing Nadia needed. The salt, the mime lady, Dario, Arthur in the hospital, Regan disappearing to who knows where and showing back up, this was icing on top of the fucking cake. God, she hated this town.

There was no sound at all in the apartment, except for Rhiannon’s soft growls. Nadia wanted to scoop the cat up and run, but the mime blocked the path to the door. Maybe she could get them in her bedroom. Maybe mimes couldn’t cross salt lines.

The mime was back to making kissy faces at the cat, as if the cat didn’t sense the inherent evil coming from it. Nadia herself sensed nothing, nothing. Like the mime wasn’t even alive. Or real. But she wasn’t going nuts. She wasn’t. People were talking about mime clones running around, trying to kill them, so it was real. It just… wasn’t trying to kill her. It was trying to woo over her cat.

Thankfully, Rhiannon seemed to like the mime version of her even less than the actual version of her. The thought warmed her heart, just a bit.

Striding over to the cat and picking her up, Nadia and the mime leaned up at the same time. When Nadia blinked, the mime blinked, and when Nadia clutched the cat tighter to her chest, the claws digging themselves into her shirt and skin, the mime acted as if there was a cat in her arms as well. Nadia took a step back. So did the mime. Carefully, she worked her way to her bedroom door, eye never leaving the mimes, the bronze-and-green that she so often saw in the mirror the only color on the mime. Even her hair was darker. Nadia managed to make her way to the bedroom and threw Rhiannon in, much to her displeasure. The cat yowled as Nadia slammed the door, and the mime pouted.

But it was just the two of them, now.

“Get out of my house,” Nadia said lowly, reminded, just a bit, of when she’d first moved in and there had been another unwanted intruder in her midst. She wasn’t scared this time, just pissed off. She’d have to find a way to mime proof the place, too, now.

The mime soundlessly snapped and pointed to the door, as if saying, No, bitch, you get out. Then she walked over to the couch, sat down, and began thumbing through Nadia’s copy of King Harald’s Saga.

It was like another possession. The mime wasn’t trying to kill her, just take over her life, just like the last invader had. Take her cat, her books-- Nadia was surprised she hadn’t gone to the kitchen and fixed herself a bowl of cereal.

This was ridiculous. Nadia walked over to the kitchen table, where she’d left her revolver earlier after removing it from her previous-criminal-paraphernalia bag, just to look at it. It scared her, more than she’d care to admit, but it was handy to have around in a situation like this. Marching back over to the mime, Nadia leveled the gun at her mimey self.

“I said to get out of my house,” she told the mime, coolly.

The mime met her gaze. One eyebrow raised, the mime set the book down and stood. She mimed loading a revolver chamber and pointed a nonexistent gun at Nadia.

Nadia just laughed.

“You dumb bitch,” she said. “There’s nothing in you--”

The sound of a gunshot cut her off, followed by blinding pain in her right arm. Nadia screamed, dropping her own gun and raising her hand up to where she’d been shot. There was an actual bullet in her arm. She’d really been shot. Through tears in her eyes, she could see the mime smiling at her. The mime mimed blowing smoke from a gun barrel. Then, she mimed dropping the weapon and leapt at Nadia.

Still bleeding and not expecting a follow up attack so soon, Nadia was knocked onto her back instantly. The mime went for her neck, probably intending to choke Nadia out. Nadia kneed her, first in the groin and again in the stomach, before she managed to take her left hand and scratch at the mime’s face. The combined blows knocked the mime off kilter a bit, and Nadia, full of pain and adrenaline, managed to get the mime off of her. She scrambled to her feet and stumbled to the door, grabbing her fire poker as she left. Out she went, attempting to put as much space between her and her striped assailant.

The mime, inclined to mimic, pursed her slowly down three flights of stairs.

Even if she didn’t know what the hell she was going to do when she got outside, Nadia knew she needed to get them out of her apartment. Her blood was already going to be hard to clean up, and she didn’t need the kind of negativity of either dying in or killing a mime in the space. Best to do it outside.

Maybe she was losing it from the pain and the slow, steady ooze of blood from her wound.

Nadia burst through the door, gulping the fresh night air as if that’d save her. Pivoting on her heels, she turned around, watching as the mime slowly came down the steps, not in a hurry in any way. Sauntering through the door with a confidence Nadia’s never actually had, the mime grinned at her as she loaded her imaginary gun. An imaginary gun that wasn’t so imaginary, actually.

Not wanting to get shot again, Nadia lurched forward, crying out, “No!” Dropping the poker, she grabbed the mime’s gun hand with her only good one, pointing it in the air. Three rounds fired off into the night. Thankfully, none of them hit Nadia. Then, instinctively, Nadia, used her leg to knock the mimes feet out from under her. Hopefully, the imaginary gun was tossed away.

“Kill her,” a voice whispered in Nadia’s ear. And that was the only option, wasn’t it? Kill the mime or die herself. And Nadia really didn’t want to die. She really, really didn’t.

She got on top of the mime, attempting to pull the same chokehold that the mime had pulled on her, but with more success, pressing down as hard as she could with her left side. The mime reached out, digging her fingers into Nadia’s gunshot wound, causing Nadia’s vision to spot up. Triumphantly and savagely, the mime pulled the bullet out, Nadia’s red blood coating her fingers as the bullet turned to tar-like ooze.

They rolled around on the grass. The mime decked Nadia. Nadia scratched at its eyes, greasepaint collecting under her fingers. Then the mime attempted to get up and Nadia wrapped an arm around her neck from behind, leaning all of her weight back and forcing her hand over the mime’s nose and mouth.

The mime went slack, and Nadia rolled it off of her. She staggered over to where she’d thrown the fire poker. Back to the mime, then, kneeling beside its black and white body. Right arm numb, blood oozing from a split lip and a bullet wound, the hairs on the back of her neck standing as something whispered “kill her kill her killher killer” in her ear like a fly that wouldn’t go away, Nadia raised the fire poker as high as she could. The mime’s eyes snapped open as she dug the fire poker into the mime’s chest.

There was no sound as it died, though its mouth was open in a silent scream. Nadia watched her mime self die under her, and the only sound was her own gurgled yell as the creature turned to black goo.

Nadia used the poker to pull herself to her feet, head spinning from the pain. She felt almost like someone was petting her hair, but she turned and no one was there. Applying pressure to her arm and feeling like she was going to be sick, Nadia made her way up three flights of stairs to her apartment. She didn’t start crying until she closed the door. She leaned back against it, sobbing quietly and feeling dulled around the edges. She just needed a break, just for a moment. Then she’d see about fixing herself up. She just needed to rest her eyes for a bit.

[modreduscycle]

Green Knight Pt. 1

Arthur clapped his hands, momentarily bringing a halt to the racket emanating throughout the hall. “The king has an announcement!” Kay yelled, which made even the lingering quiet conversations fall silent.

“Alright, I didn’t think I’d need to say this, and I’m not naming any names…” Despite saying that, Arthur cast a glare at his nephews, specifically Mordred, who took a sip of wine, “But enchanted mistletoe, of any kind, is not allowed. I appreciate the person or people in question obeying by the original rule of not having mistletoe enchanted to make people kiss under it, but making them non-fatally duel each other isn’t a great alternative.”

Kay didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he glanced over at Lancelot, who still had a red mark on his jaw. “It’s a great alternative when you realize what’s going on before the other person.”

“Kay, no.” Arthur was clearly trying to give his brother a death glare but failing miserably. The king sighed and repeated, “Just don’t put any more of them up, whoever it was.” He looked at his nephews again and Gaheris laughed, giving away his involvement in the scheme as well. The others managed to keep it together a little better, although Gareth looked a little abashed at being basically scolded by their king.

“So, as much as I absolutely love the violence this has caused, are there any kissing mistletoes?” Agravaine whispered to Mordred.

The magic knight shook his head, grinning. “That was specifically against the rules.”

“Pity, there are so many people here who need some romance in their lives.” Agravaine not-so-subtly pointed at Gawain and rolled his eyes.

“I saw that!”

“You were supposed to,” Agravaine deadpanned. “Seriously, Father’s getting worried. You know how awkward it is to get a letter asking you to get your older brother married and/or laid?”

“Is Christmas really the time to bring this up?” Gawain asked.

“Apparently Father thinks so,” Agravaine retorted.

“You are his heir,” Gareth reminded.

“A prince?” Gaheris prompted.

“Supposed to make more heirs?” Mordred added.

Gawain groaned and put his head on the table. “Any of you want to switch places with me?”

“Yeah, no. Have fun, crown prince,” Agravaine teased.

“It’s a vassal kingdom!” Gawain complained. “Why is it a big deal?”

“The key word there is, ‘kingdom,” Mordred reminded.

Gawain ran his hand down his face. “Here’s a game we can play: no one mention romance, inheritance, or family duties until the new year.”

His brothers all muttered their agreement with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Arthur wasn’t eating yet, wanting either something exciting to happen or someone to tell a good enough story before he started with the feast. Some of the knights were attempting to regale him with various tales, but most of them were just things they had done, which Arthur already knew about.

Gawain started to reach for the wine when the door burst open, bringing the chill air with it in a flash of cold. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at the newcomer.

The man was tall, really tall, to the point where between him and Galehaut, the literal half giant, it would be hard to tell at a glance who was taller. His hair was a deep vibrant green, with his skin an only slightly lighter emerald hue. His clothes, his eyes, his axe, everything about this man was green. It was like someone poured dye all over him. Even his horse was green, dappled in varying shades of the color. A bushy green beard covered the lower half of his face, looking insanely fluffy and soft. He half-wondered what it would feel like kissing him with it. That thought caught Gawain by surprise and he looked away, blushing, just as the green knight started to speak.

“I really hope this is the court of King Arthur. The last guy I visited wasn’t so happy about the mistake,” the Green Knight commented, brushing flakes of snow off his cloak. His voice was deep and melodious, flowing like honey into Gawain’s ears.

Arthur nodded and gestured to one of the tables. “Go ahead and take a seat. I can call for a servant to lead your horse to the stables.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to stay long,” the Green Knight explained. “I’m just here to issue a challenge, a game of sorts, to anyone who wants to play.”

This being the round table, everyone’s ears perked up at the word challenge. Arthur looked a little surprised, but smiled and nodded. “Alright, what’s the challenge? And are you sure you don’t want any food?”

The Green Knight hesitated and Gawain, without thinking, scooted over and patted the empty spot he had just made. The Green Knight’s gaze moved over to him and he froze for a few seconds before recovering. “Maybe something for the road just before I leave, if you still want me to. As for my challenge… you see this axe?” He twirled it the huge weapon around for emphasis.

“Hard to miss,” Kay deadpanned, somehow remaining thoroughly unimpressed by the whole thing.

The Green Knight smiled. “Well, here’s the game. One of you can take this axe and hit me in any part of my body. Then, in one year, I get to hit that person in the same place. I’ll even give you the axe to keep! How does that sound?”

Somehow, not even Lancelot looked thrilled at that game, and that was saying something. “Can we hit with the handle?” Bedivere asked.

“No, sharp part of the blade only,” the Green Knight corrected. “So who wants to play?” No one spoke for a very long time. The Green Knight looked disappointed, pouting a little. “Come on! Isn’t this supposed to be the greatest court in the land? Bravest of knights? Where’s your spirit?”

No one volunteered. Arthur looked around at his knights, then took a deep breath and stood up. “Alright, if no one else will, I guess I’ll play this game.”

“Are you crazy?” Kay snapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. “You’re the king! The technically heirless king, I might add.”

“Arthur, be reasonable,” Guinevere begged.

Gawain stood up. “I’ll go in your place!” He turned to the knight and, swallowing his fear and reluctance, walked toward the large man. “I’ll play your game.”

The Green Knight’s eyes brightened. “Excellent! Here, take this axe and cut anywhere, but remember, I’m going to hit you in the same place if I’m still alive so you should probably make it count.” He tossed the axe to Gawain, who almost dropped it from the sheer weight of the thing. It was night, so he didn’t have super strength even though he really, really wished he did right now. Hefting the axe up, he realized it was all or nothing. He didn’t have enough control with the weapon to make a small cut on the back of the knight’s hand, or enough precision to just take off a finger. If he wanted to live, he’d have to go for something more fatal. His eyes strayed up to the knight’s neck and before he could feel the guilt, swung.

The axe cut like butter and the knight’s head flew off, blood spurting everywhere. Gawain dropped the axe and stumbled back, waiting for the body to hit the ground. Time seemed to slow down as the decapitated corpse just stood there, until he realized everything else was moving at a normal speed. After a few more seconds, the body raised one hand and gave him a thumb’s up.

He felt like he might faint as the body turned around and picked up its severed head, putting the usually hugely important body part under its(his?) arm. He could hear Kay softly muttering, “What the sard?” over and over again with growing intensity. Every other knight seemed just as freaked out, but no one knew what to do so they just stood there, waiting.

The Green Knight grinned. “Well, won’t lie, that was pretty interesting. Come to the Green Chapel this time next year. Enjoy the axe, maybe put it up on the mantle or something. It’s more decorative than functional, after all.”

“Wait, you’re just… leaving?” Gawain asked finding his voice. The Green Knight looked surprised.

“You want me to stay after all that?” he asked.

“I mean… yes?” Gawain stuttered. “It’s got to be a long journey for you and you could use a meal— wait, can you eat while your head’s…?”

“No, but I appreciate the sentiment,” the Green Knight replied. He fell silent, then opened his travelling bag. “I might take something for the road, if you would be so generous.”

Gawain, still reeling a little bit from what just happened, took a turkey leg, a couple apples, and a loaf of bread from the table and tossed it in the bag. “Anything else you’d like?” he asked.

“No, no, really, this is too much already,” the Green Knight protested. “But thank you, Sir…?”

“Gawain, Sir Gawain of Orkney,” Gawain introduced himself. The Green Knight grabbed his hand and lifted it up with one hand and with the other brought his head down to kiss it.

“Well, Sir Gawain of Orkney, may we meet again in a year.” Gawain’s face turned bright red as the Green Knight mounted his horse again and road off into the night, lighter one axe, which had fallen to the floor in all the excitement.

Gawain stared at the door he left through, then sat back down and went back to eating without a word. Eventually, most of the other knights stopped staring at him. After a few minutes, Mordred prodded him. “Gawain?”

“Yes?”

“Did you just sentence yourself to death in a year?”

“Looks like it.”

“And did you, immediately after learning that, proceed to try and make friends with your to-be killer?”

“I may have done that too.”

“Then, and I need to make sure I have this right, did your future killer just flirt with you?”

“Also yes.”

“Okay, and did you enjoy it as much as you looked like you were?”

Gawain glanced away and took a long sip of wine to delay answering. “...maybe.”

Mordred pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gawain, we both know I would never judge you for liking men, considering I’m about as into women as Patroclus was, but do you think maybe you could not fall in love with the guy who wants to kill you for five seconds?”

“Look, he’s hot, okay?” Gawain argued.

“Don’t you like women, though?” Agravaine asked. “You had a pretty big crush on that noble girl when we were growing up, what was her name again… Muire?”

“Yeah, I like them too, but he was also really, really attractive,” Gawain argued.

Agravaine rolled his eyes. “So are you planning on proposing before or after he cuts your head off?”

“I know it’s not going to work, okay?” retorted Gawain. He sighed. “How about we don’t talk about my impending death until tomorrow. Then we can put together a list of things I should do before I die.” The mood among the siblings turned sour and they all looked back at their meals.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep10 pt 1: Yugioh Predicted the California Drought

Ah, my break is officially over, and it’s a new year, and so far, this year kind of sucks so lets get distracted and watch some TV. IF ONLY we could solve the world’s issues with a bunch of lost children from Japan carrying magical paper cards, amiright?

Anyway, Seto reflects on these cards that he came alllll the way to California to learn about, only to learn about them, and then decide “Yeah I didn’t really want to know that, Yugi.”

I just want to remind everyone that last episode I said “and now Kaiba has joined the party” and it lasted like less than one conversation with Yugi before Seto was like “oh hell no” and just walked out in that purple ball gown, trailing behind him like a complete diva.

Yugi needs to curse his friends to like him more often, is what I’m saying.

(read more under the cut)

So, staring at the fallout of their rekindled friendship with Kaiba that lasted less than a minute, Joey makes an observation.

And then Yugi just wonders “the hell is this plot supposed to go if a Kaiba isn’t here to abduct my family/tell me what to do/get abducted themselves?”

So they decide to reach out to the only other person on this show with a degree than Seto Kaiba.

(And TBH, Seto probably just decided to buy a new degree in graphic design from Devry so he wouldn’t have to finish public school and spend another millisecond in the same room as Joey Wheeler.)

And I have to give Yugi credit for finally deciding to visit the only adult he knows in America. Way to finally find an adult, Yugi. Took 4 season’s but you’ve finally done it. Gonna go visit Arthur Hawkins and dance awkwardly around this Rebecca situation that I guess Tea is fine with now. She used to be jealous, but I think Tea genuinely enjoys spending time with Rebecca now. The jealousy kind of disappeared once the plot picked up.

And Kaiba just takes off in the most wasteful plane ever invented, off to destroy precious fossil fuels on some other side of the planet.

Kind of weird that Tea would rather fly in that asshole dragon plane than Duke Devlin’s sweet retro car, but youknow...I’ve mentioned before that Tea is secretly just a Kaiba-lite without the cards. Of course she’d prefer an asshole dragon jet.

And Yugi would be able to fit in the suit-case compartment of the dragon jet. Just put the suitcase on Mokuba’s lap, and then stuff Yugi into that little slot, he’d be fine.

And honestly Kaiba made the correct choice, because what these guys had to go through is absolutely ridiculous. First off, Duke is like “Oh, this is really close to here” (remember they are in the Financial District of SF) and he just turns directly off of 101 and blows through some bird sanctuary somewhere.

Like y’all, everywhere that doesn’t have a house or a cow field on it in the Bay Area is a protected bird sanctuary, weird fact about the Bay Area, and Duke killed so many birds this episode. The South Bay is SO DEVELOPED.

Course, that is again assuming that the art staff knew that they were drawing the Bay Area, which they SUPER DID NOT.

Now this rock structure, I’m sure, is there to mimic the next shot with the giant ass building--it helps make pleasing screen transitions. But...at what cost?

AT WHAT COST?

Just....

Like I am starting to think the landscapers only knew how to draw one type of mountain and that was it. Square mesas only. They were just unprepared for hills. And like...we only have wild grass that is green like this for like...2 months of the year. That’s it. That’s what my Winter looks like, it’s when the grass is alive.

How did this happen?

Anyway, Mai is alive, and really upset about it. Will she at all reflect on her behavior, and realize that if the main mini-bosses are telling you to knock it the hell off, then maybe there is something wrong with you? Like these are two people who I assume harvested a ton of souls off screen like actual serial killers and they’re like “Girl. You’re like being hella mean right now and need to tone it down.”

I mean, if Mai gets better, than that basically gives Joey absolutely nothing to do in this season so, gotta keep Mai completely bonkers. There she goes. On a motorcycle.

And if you thought Yugioh was done throwing recreational and vintage vehicles in your face, well don’t worry, they even got the OG vintage vehicle, check this one out:

A freakin horse.

And I have to tell you...horses are hard to draw and animate and Yugioh doesn’t do a great job and it is wonderful. I love seeing this horse kind of awkwardly stumble around. It’s very good stuff. Like clearly these artists do not love horses as much as they love one of these:

Of course, get allllll the vehicles in this episode, Yugioh, bring back Marik on his yacht, I dare you.

And then...this very bizarre set of things happen in succession. I’ll just show you.

NICE.

WOW.

That entire house just exploded.

Not just a part of it--but the entire freakin house.

They were there for like less than 30 seconds, and just demolished that entire house like it was Independence Day the movie.

And like that whole house situation was pretty bonkers anyway, not sure why they need a planetarium when they research undersea structures, but youknow what? Arthur Hawkins would. 

And don’t you dare do the math and think about how much a house with a planetarium and a horse stable in it would cost in Silicon Valley. It’s way too depressing, trust me.

And yes, that probably exists. Lots of horse people in Los Altos, and it makes me wonder if maybe they based Rebecca’s home on Stanford University? Maybe? I feel like these animators think Stanford is in San Fransisco. That one seems likely to me.

Also, kudos to the horse that it got blasted 50 ft away by an explosion and not only is the horse completely OK, but so is all of her groceries. That is one power horse, right here. I mean the groceries are still covered in so much horse ass smell, but youknow, Rebecca’s 12 so it’s not the horse’s or Rebecca’s fault that she has no idea how groceries work. We should just be glad that she bought vegetables when she went to the store and not just 8 cartons of pop tarts.

So, hours pass, no police show up, and Yugi and co walk into this bleak situation.

Fortunately, the massive explosion did not explode the truck-led RV outside.

A truck that...could’ve been used to go and get the damn groceries, may I add. If Arthur Hawkins used the TRUCK and done his own job without sending his granddaughter into a modern town on a horse, then he would have been at the grocery store and his house would never have exploded. This one is on Arthur, honestly. Then again, he seems like he kinda has the parenting skills of Yugi’s family, who just kinda...delivered him to San Fransisco un-aided and was like “have fun storming the castle”

This ship is kind of hilarious in action, not gonna lie. Yugi’s here with a grandpa who came back from the dead and is like “They don’t really need your grandpa, so he’s probably fine” and it’s like wtf. That’s terrible advice, Yugi.

Anyway, they apparently needed the Oricalchos necklace that Yugi handed off to Arthur back in like the first episode. So Yugi didn’t exactly mean for this to happen, but yet again, because Yugi and Pharaoh can’t be bothered to keep track of their own magical items themselves, someone else goes off with them and gets super screwed. Again. At least Arthur isn’t totally evil (although he still might and go rogue like Marik, and we all know that would be a very funny hairstyle if it happened)

So Rebecca happens to have this necklace just on your person (WTF, ARTHUR THAT’S YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER) and she gives it back to Yugi, where it should have stayed in the first place since he’s haunted by powerful ghost powers and is the only one here that can handle all these haunted Mordor rings. (just remembered he left Bakura’s ring in Japan. I’m sure that’s not going to be a problem later.)

So, that’s all for Part One. As you can see, I’m a little behind schedule, but youknow, I got lazy over the break, and then I drew Joey Wheeler a bunch when I planned to be typing, and it was overall a really great use of my time. No regrets.

And if you just got here this is a link to read the Yugioh recaps from the start. One of these days I’ll put the link into seasons but that does mean I have to retag stuff.