#we must batten them

[todayontumblr]

Wednesday March 15.

Batten down the hatches: It's The Ides of March.

It's March 15, 44 BC. As many as 60 conspirators, led by Brutus and Cassius, await the arrival of the great Julius Caesar in the Theatre of Pompey for a meeting of the Senate. A mystical seer is among those gathered, and Caesar passes this mysterious figure on his way to the Theatre. Before the point of their meeting, the seer warned Caesar that harm would come to him on the Ides of March. On his way to Pompey, where he would be assassinated, Caesar passed the seer and joked: "Well, the Ides of March are come", with which he implied that the prophecy had not been fulfilled. "Aye, they are come, but they are not gone," the seer replied, and Caesar continued into the chamber. And the rest, as they say, is history. Well, would you look at that. Today's date is March 15, and you know what that means, Tumblrinas: it must be the #ides of march! Yay!

Naturally, as today is the big day, the #ides of march fandom has gone totally wild for March 15. And can you blame them? It's been a long year, after all. And it is right here you will find a mass of shitposts, memes, polls, and fanart all in tribute to the community's all-time favorite assassination.  

And remember, folks, trust no one. Not even Marcus Brutus x

[unforgivablenope]

-watch everyone get ready for today's event-

[darknights04]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Pairings: pirate!Eddie x mermaid!reader

Summary: The dread pirate Eddie Munson decided he wanted a mermaid. And once the captain's mind is made up, there's no changing it. When the captain meets you, however, he may just change his opinion on the beasts.

Warnings: Blood (slightly), not proof read

Masterlist

Mermaids.

That was the quest the dread pirate Munson decided to take his crew on today. Were the crew scared? Yes. But they knew better than to go against Eddie when he put his mind to it. No matter how badly they wanted to scream “HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT?! WE’LL BE KILLED!” 

But Eddie was their captain. What he says goes. Even if it may be a death sentence. 

“All hands! Batten down the hatches!” Eddie was heard calling out from his spot behind the wheel. “Watch out for those waves!” 

“It’s the mermaids,” his first mate and right hand man, Steve, had concluded. “They’re protecting the cove.” 

“Well, they’ve yet to encounter us. Gonna take more that a few splashes of water to turn us around. Right men?!” 

Small shouts of agreement came from the rest of the crew, hurriedly securing everything on the deck so it wasn’t lost to the waves. 

“Drop a rowboat!” Eddie next commanded. “We must row the rest of the way in.” 

The men followed in suit, running towards the ropes that help up their rowboats. 

“Now,” Eddie continued. “Which of you is joining me in the cove?” 

Everyone looked around at one another, none volunteering. Eddie looked at each of the men om board, each immediately looking away so as to not make any sort of eye contact. 

“I’ll join you,” Steve had sighed after more moments of silence. 

“No. No you stay behind to guard the ship. If we go down you’re next in command.” Eddie continued looked around before his eyes landed on one person in particular. “Dustin,” he grinned, an audible whine left the boy’s lips as he noticeably slumped. “And Robin.” 

“Why me?” she began to complain. 

“I dunno, you’re a girl aren’t ya?”

“So?”

“Maybe the creatures will feel more comfortable around you.” 

“I see something!” their lookout, Lucas, had called from the bow of the ship. “In the water, straight ahead!”

Everyone ran to where the boy was standing to look for what he was referring to. Sure enough, there was a head bobbing on top of the waves, long hair billowing out behind it. Half the men were in awe. The other half, scared to death. Eddie didn’t take the bait. He watched the creature with careful eyes as he lowered their row boat slowly down into the water, unbeknownst to her. He knew that if she saw them they’d be dead in an instant. The larger ship would not be as easy a target. 

While the rest of the men were entranced by the mermaid in the water, more began to pop up. One by one, the ship was surrounded. 

“Plug your ears, men!” Steve shouted at the helm. “Don’t let their songs reach them!” 

Like clockwork, as soon as the men on board plugged their ears, they started to sing. Will nearly had to catch Mike by the collar of his shirt cause he was a second too late and nearly jumped clear over board and into the sea. 

“Shouldn’t we help them?” Dustin whispered from his spot on the rowboat. “What if they attack?” 

“Steve’s got it,” Eddie assured. “Our goal is their cove. They always leave the weaker ones behind while attacking.” 

“So the rest of the crew is to act as bait then?” Robin realized. 

“Distraction,” he corrected. “As long as they stay prepared, the beasts won’t be able to sink them.”

“And if we lose some to their siren song?” 

Right as the question left Robin’s lips, the trio heard a war cry screamed from the water near the boat. As they glanced back in fear, they saw the hoard of mermaids leaping to action, hurling themselves towards the ship in formation. 

“Go,” Dustin told Eddie with his eyes wide. “Go! Row! Row! Row!” 

Eddie didn’t need and more urging to increase the speed at which he was rowing their boat towards the cove. 

“Quiet,” Eddie ordered as they pulled the boat ashore. “We don’t know how many they left behind. They should be in the heart of the cove.” 

Eddie removed his heavy coat and took his guns from their holsters, trying to limit the amount of noise he generated. Robin and Dustin followed suit, all keeping their swords in their spot on their hip just in case. 

The trio was in awe at the sights that waited for them past the beach. There were trees hanging towards the ground, leaves swaying in the wind. Waterfalls and babbling brooks could be heard running over the top of rocks in every direction. The grass seemed greener than everywhere else, the water more blue and yet also clearer. They wouldn’t have been surprised if a unicorn had emerged from the bushes at any moment. It was magical. 

While the three were marveling at the sights around them. Eddie heard it. Humming. Coming from a nearby pool in the center of the trees. He motioned to the others and put his finger to hips lips, signaling them to be quiet as he carefully drew out his sword, the others following. As they drew closer, Eddie couldn’t help but feel he knew the tune from somewhere. 

His suspicions were confirmed, however, when you began singing. 

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas…” she sung, mostly under your breath and just to yourself. “With n’er a fear of drowning.” 

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. It was the song his mother would sing to him as a child. Well before she passed. One of his few remaining memories of her. 

“And gladly ride the waves of life…” you continued, a bit louder but still slow and drawn out. “If you will marry me…” 

As you said the last line, Dustin seemed to realized you were a mermaid singing, and the fear of being bewitched made him shoot his hands up to cup his ears, dropping the sword he was holding in turn. 

“No!” Eddie whispered in protest, reaching for the droppen weapon, but was just a second too late as it clattered to the ground. 

You gasped at the sound, turning towards the group and quickly retreating away after seeing them, disappearing into the shadows. 

Eddie’s eyes went wide. He had put too much planning into this voyage to lose it all now. He had to do something and quickly. 

“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold,” he sang back. His voice far more raspy and no where near as smooth. “Would stop me on my journey.” 

Eddie motioned for Robin and Dustin to stay behind as he took a few cautious steps towards you, continuing to sing. “If you would promise me your heart… And love…” 

He stood with his hand outstreatch towards you, urging you to come forward. Everyone stood in silence for a long moment. Waiting to see how you would respond. It was evident that not even you knew the answer. Tensions were high. No one knew what would happen next. 

Eddie had nearly lost hope after a few more moments of silence. That was until you took another breath. “And love me for eternity…” you sang. Eddie let out a sigh of relief as you moved from the shadows, slowly and cautiously approaching the man. 

“My dearest one, my darling dear. Your mighty words astound me.”

As you got closer to Eddie, he approached the edge of the water, attempting to meet you in the middle. Dustin was watching with fear the whole time, afraid you would snap at any moment. No matter how you seemed on the outside, you was still a mermaid. The same breed of mermaids that were attacking their friends not a thousand feet down the coast. 

Your lips turned to a shy smile as you continued singing towards Eddie. “But I’ve no need for mightly deeds when I feel your arms around me.” 

Eddie knelt down onto he kness, trying to encourage you to be comfortable enough to approach him more. 

“My mother sang that song to me,” he said softly, smiling to himself as the memories came flooding back. 

By now, you were intrigued. You wanted to know more about the pirate in front of you. He sat in silence after mentioning his mother. You watched as his smile went from a happy smile reminiscing on the past to a sad, sorrowful one. You knew nothing about him, yet wanted to comfort him. You reached out your hand for him to take. Just a small gesture of comfort, it was all you could think to do. His sad smile became a little happier as he connected your hands. He was taught that mermaids were heartless beasts. That they could not feel and would stab you in the back any chance they got. 

That must have been the fear Robin felt as she saw her captain in such a vulnerable spot with you, as she dashed forward to protect him. Becoming afraid again, you turned around, trying to swim off as fast as you could. Before you got the chance to get far enough, Robin acted quickly, driving her sword down into the sand, catching the edge of your tail in the process. 

“You got her!” Dustin celebrated as your could no longer swim away. Eddie’s eyes went wide as he watched the blood trailing from your fin and becomming diluted in the water. You turned around to face Robin and all Eddie could see on your face… was fear. Sure it was warranted granted you were completely at the mercy of pirates… but he was taught that mermaid felt no emotion. And as far as he knew, fear was an emotion. 

“Let’s get it back to the crew,” Robin said, wasting no time in grabbing your arms to hoist you out of the water. You tried to fight her grasp. Your writhed and screamed to no avail. Robin felt as though she was trying to tame a wild cat with the way you scratched at her hands. “Dustin, come help me!” 

Dustin rushed to her aid to help and drag you from the pool of water. Despite your attempts to escape, they succeeded. 

Almost immediately after you left the water, your tail shrunk and separated into to legs. You stopped your squirming to escape and instead moved you arms to cover yourself, the lack of clothes making you feel quite vulnerable. It only took a moment of Robin and Dustin continuing to drag you across the ground that Eddie stepped in. 

“Enough!” he nearly screamed at the two. 

“Captain?” Dustin asked, confused. They were, after all, just doing as he asked.

Saying nothing, Eddie took off his coat and threw it over your shoulders, quickly fastening it in the front in order to give you some sense of dignity. Your eyes widened in shock at his kindness towards you. Considering his companions never called you more than an “it”. 

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Eddie hissed at the two. 

“She?” Robin repeated. 

“She’s scared?” Dustin gawked. “She’s the one who tried mauling us!” 

Eddie scoffed at them as he helped you to your feet. As he watched your form tremble beneath him, he was at a loss as to what to do. On the one hand, this was the purpose of the whole mission. To obtain a mermaid. He had done just that. But on the other hand, you looked to be just an innocent girl like this. Not a malicious bone in your body. 

With a small, sympathetic smile, Eddie continued to sing to you under his breath. “Through all life’s sorrows and delights,” he sang softly. “I’ll keep your laugh inside me.” And with that, he grabbed your shoulders and carefully pushed you back into the water, allowing you time to escape as he blocked Robin and Dustin from going after you.

“What are you doing?!” Dustin screetched. 

“It’ll get away!” 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie responded simply. 

You watched from the shadows as the three argued. Eddie firmly standing his ground. When the other two backed off, you resurfaced. 

“Swim and sail the savage seas,” you smiled towards Eddie. When he turned to face you, you propelled out of the water, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him to your level. Robin and Dustin both called out in fear, however, when his head reached the water you stopped. You landed a soft, gentle kiss on the pirates lips as a symbol of gratitude and watched as he pulled away with a drunken smile on his lips. 

“With n’er a fear of drowning.”

And with that, you disappeared back under the waves. 

[vickyvicarious]

There are several really good Renfield/Jonathan parallels today.

First: dreaming.

It seemed, however, that his poor injured brain had been working in the interval, for, when he was quite conscious, he looked at me piercingly with an agonised confusion which I shall never forget, and said:—

“I must not deceive myself; it was no dream, but all a grim reality.”

.

I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for I must know the truth. When I got to the doorway at the top of the stairs I found it closed. It had been so forcibly driven against the jamb that part of the woodwork was splintered. I could see that the bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the inside. I fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise.

Jonathan and Renfield both initially don't understand what has happened to them was real, or at least are doubting of it. But they both realize the truth and become determined to act accordingly. In Jonathan's case, that was when he fully understood just how deadly his situation was, and it meant he had to be even more cautious and careful and play the role Dracula wanted from him in order to survive. This also leads him towards understanding just how important keeping his accurate record and preserving his information to hopefully share with others is. But for Renfield, he understands that he's already dying, and determines to spend the time he has left sharing all the information he has, utilizing his new freedom to speak.

Second: attacking Dracula.

"I didn't know that she was here till she spoke; and she didn't look the same. I don't care for the pale people; I like them with lots of blood in them, and hers had all seemed to have run out. I didn't think of it at the time; but when she went away I began to think, and it made me mad to know that He had been taking the life out of her." I could feel that the rest quivered, as I did, but we remained otherwise still. "So when He came to-night I was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in, and I grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have unnatural strength; and as I knew I was a madman—at times anyhow—I resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to come out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight; and I thought I was going to win, for I didn't mean Him to take any more of her life, till I saw His eyes. They burned into me, and my strength became like water. He slipped through it, and when I tried to cling to Him, He raised me up and flung me down. There was a red cloud before me, and a noise like thunder, and the mist seemed to steal away under the door."

.

Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held its own in the nethermost hell.

Both Renfield and Jonathan were driven to attack Dracula on the behalf of other people. But it wasn't simply knowledge that he would harm them; they both felt responsible for aiding him to do so. The idea drove them mad, they say, and they lunge to stop him in any way they can, physically attacking him. Both of them successfully connect with him. Jonathan makes him bleed, while Renfield forces him out of his mist form and manages to slow his progress. But then Dracula looks at them with blazing eyes and their strength flees, leaving them immobilized.

Jonathan was more successful for several reasons. He had a weapon, it was daytime, the shovel falling pulled the lid down and broke eye contact. Otherwise it would probably have ended in a very similar way to Renfield's confrontation with the Count.

Third: finding their limit/dealing with the devil.

He held up his hand, and they all stopped; and I thought he seemed to be saying: 'All these lives will I give you, ay, and many more and greater, through countless ages, if you will fall down and worship me!' And then a red cloud, like the colour of blood, seemed to close over my eyes; and before I knew what I was doing, I found myself opening the sash and saying to Him: 'Come in, Lord and Master!' [...] "All day I waited to hear from him, but he did not send me anything, not even a blow-fly, and when the moon got up I was pretty angry with him."

.

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 care for nothing now," he answered hotly, "except to wipe out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!" "Oh, hush, hush, my child!" said Van Helsing. "God does not purchase souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he may purchase, does not keep faith."

First, the deal with the devil. Jonathan rashly vows he would sell his soul to the devil to achieve his ends, and van Helsing warns him the Devil doesn't keep promises. This directly echoes what happened earlier with Renfield and Dracula, where Renfield was overcome and in a rash moment agrees to let Dracula inside, only to find himself ignored as soon as the Count got what he wanted. The promises made to him are left unfulfilled.

The second part of this parallel is a little less straightforward, but... Renfield and Jonathan both find a limit to their faith in/devotion to a higher power. And for both, that limit is Mina. Renfield will not help Dracula if it means Mina is being harmed. Instead, he'll turn on him and fight even to his own death to try and prevent any further danger to her.

Jonathan's decision to 'go into that dark and terrible land' with Mina is a direct refutation of her seeming rejection by God, when the wafer burns her forehead. He will be faithful up to a point, and as long as Mina is alive perhaps that point has not yet been reached - but if she becomes a vampire he would turn his back on God and join her, even if it means his own damnation.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do ypu have HR with the hero having this animalistic MINE MINE MINEEEE!!! I know all of them have them but there are some taking it to the next level

Weeeellll lol not all of them tbh. Because we are surrounded by pearl clutchers as of late.......

ANYWAY.

I'm obviously relistening to Seduce Me at Sunrise by Lisa Kleypas, her most underrated banger imo, and when Kev finally gets with the program and sneaks into Win's bedroom all he does is cover her mouth with his hand and go "YOU'RE MINE" and she realizes it is THE FUCK. ON. And then he rails her for like 48 hours in his little fuck cottage, yay!

The Bride by Julie Garwood is the quintessentially MINE MINE MINE romance novel. Medieval border marriage book. Alec Kincaid literally drags Jamie up to a window so his people can look at her, and when someone asks him in Gaelic "what do we call her?" He goes "YOU CALL HER MINE". (He does not realize that Jamie also speaks Gaelic, which is embarrassing for him, but also beneficial because she's like "OH".)

The Dragon and The Pearl by Jeannie Lin... I forget how much the hero says "mine", but he does tattoo the heroine with his symbol (consensually!) and it's soooooo possessive and erotic and emotional. And he's a villainous hero, so he's very like "YOU BELONG TO ME NOW"

Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale has a very alpha hero who suffers a stroke at the beginning of the book. The heroine helps him as he recovers (after some big asylum trauma) and he's always calling her like "my maddgirly" (her name is Maddy) and he's SUPER territorial over her and I love it.

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale is also a very "MINE" romance, but it's mutual because Allegreto is a horrible villainous alpha who happens to like it when Elena gets rough in bed. However, he also gets his "MUAHAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE ALL MINE NOW" moment. Allegreto is crazy. *Obligatory Shadowheart's First Sex Scene is Noncon Warning*

The Wolf and The Wildflower by Stacy Reid! Wolf Duke is VERY possessive. Because he spent years in the Yukon living with wolves. (Really.) (He sniffs her crotch a lot.) (Shouldn't work but it sure does.)

Stephanie Laurens writes super possessive heroes because they have THE CONQUEROR'S BLOOD and are very alpha as a result. Scandal's Bride is my favorite I've read of hers thus far *obligatory "she drugs him for the first encounter" note* and Richard, lunatic of my heart, literally refers to Catriona as his snack (which he must have every morning or he will be very annoyed, and then he needs like a follow up snack thrice more throughout the day). But like. EVERY Cynster hero is a mine mine mine guy.

Elizabeth Hoyt knows how to write a mine mine mine. The Leopard Prince is an underrated one imo, because like Seduce Me at Sunrise it's one where the hero almost forces himself to give her up but at the last minute he's like "OH NO NO NOOOOOOOOO" and snaps and like, fucks her until she's screaming within earshot of her brothers and the guy who wanted to marry her.

Duke of Midnight proooobably has her most possessive hero, Everyone's (My) Favorite Douchecanoe Maximus Batten. I don't know that there are many romance heroes who get quite as MINE as Maximus fucking Artemis while talking about how he's gonna keep her trapped in like a special hunting lodge and kill elk for her and feed her the tastiest morsels, and it's honestly a real "oh girl it's like that huh" moment because she's a vERY rational woman and she's like "yeah tell me more about it keep going" lmao. Some of my favorite deranged dirty talk of all time.

Jennifer Ashley's Mackenzie brothers are super possessive. Like, even the "oh ho we have a fun time" ones (Mac from Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage and Cameron from The Many Sins of Lord Cameron") are still very "ALRIGHT NOW. CALM TF DOWN" if someone looks at their wives for too long lol. Ian (The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie) literally needs Beth around to feel complete and Hart from The Duke's Perfect Wife, another "Everyone Else Thinks He's Too Much But Iiiiiiiiiii Like 'Im" hero is sooooo possessive of Eleanor. Wasn't even in his own book yet and he still made time to put money down her bodice to remind her that DADDY STILL HAS CASH.

Monica McCarty's Highland Guard series is basically entire made up of "mine mine mine" heroes lol. The Chief has a MAJOR alpha hero. The Recruit is big on it too, especially since she tries to keep her accidental pregnancy from him and he feels the baby bump by accident and goes all *INFANT. DETECTED.* and is like "NO BABY OF MINE IS GONNA BE A BASTARD!!!!"

Though it's a funny moment, I still think the hero of Tessa Dare's Any Duchess Will Do making the heroine recite his courtesy titles while he bends her over his desk is both hilarious and ridic dumb possessive hot.

The Earl I Ruined by Scarlett Peckham has a very consciously dominant, "whose pussy is this?" type hero, which we love to see.

Joanna Shupe has very possessive heroes--Preston from The Bride Goes Rogue comes to mind, especially when mY BOY the Duke of Lockwood is like, vaguely making friends with Katherine, because Lockwood is so hot that every other hero in the series is like "You wouldn't fuck him??? OH PLEASE DON'T LIE TO ME I WOULD FUCK HIM" and gets very jealous lmao. Fwiw, Lockwood is possessive of Nellie in The Duke Gets Even. He's always like "I'm keeping you" and biting her tits to leave bruises and shit. Which is what Joanna Shupe is allowed to get away with in a trad historical in 2023 lmao.

Obviously. Derek Craven from Dreaming of You. McKenna from Again the Magic.

If you're up for something dark and angsty, A Rose at Midnight by Anne Stuart has a very intense YOU'RE MINE NOW YOU WENCH thing, but uhhh check your triggers. I loved it!

[woodsfae]

B5 s03e03: A Day In The Strife previous episode • table of contents

Transport Dionysius has been waiting over an hour to dock! With how much foreshadowing is done by the names of ships in this, the B5 crew are probably battening down all the hatches and hiding all the wine and sundry other intoxicants. 

Sheridan's tactic of cooling off violently angry people by freaking them out is a great tactic. I've used it myself from time to time! When it works, it's always a rush. 

Ohhhhh, dang!! Someone's here to replace G'Kar as Ambassador! I wonder if they're collaborators, or if they're pretending to be collaborators. They could be great allies or a great torment for G'Kar.

The new opening is so dramatic. I would say cheesy, except it grips me, and I like cheese anyway. I notice that all the main B5 crew, and Delenn and Lennier all look firmly into the camera and give a little nod. Then Zack Allen and Londo stare dead into the camera. But! Interestingly! Vir and G'Kar both come into frame looking away from the camera, then turning their heads to stare directly into it. The movements are so distinct and patterned, it's got to be intentional. I wonder if Vir will work with G'Kar this season. And if Zack Allen with with Londo, or they'll have related arcs in some way.

Ambassador Na'Far draws a terrifying and brutal day to day life on Narn. The resistance is active and killing Centauri regularly, and for every Centauri killed, five hundred Narn are executed. There must be just...mass slaughter. Every day. I'm sure Na'Far does want to save as many Narn lives as possible, and I'm also sure that he was instructed to request G'Kar's extradition. This meeting was a good way of serving both goals: alert the Captain to ongoing ground conditions on Narn, and officially request G'Kar's sanctuary be terminated, on behalf of the Centauri warlords. 

Happy and charmed to see Garibaldi and Franklin continue to hang out and be friendly! Having regular, quiet dinners together, as bros do. And it's good to see the senior staff hanging out! Ivanova joining them to swap gossip intel, and then actually listening to the classified information from Sheridan's file that Garibaldi hacked is too good. 

Franklin returns from the bathroom to flirt with Garibaldi before heterosexually dancing away. 

Ambassador Na'Far reporting as ordered to Londo Mollari is so horrible. What is wrooooong with him treating and talking to Na'Far this way, fuuuuck. Vir has the sense to be obviously horrified. And he's gotten quite comfortable with confronting his boss - good for him. Horrifying subject content. 

New ship! First Contact, presumably. Interesting! A fun, sci-fi moment amidst the war drama. 

Londo complaining about Delenn and everyone disapproving of him, and also calling in the favor Delenn owes him. And hah! What a favor! He wants Vir to be appointed to Minbar as Ambassador from Centauri and described him with such ringing terms as "most inoffensive," "keeps to himself," and "wouldn't even spy on your government." lmaoooooo. Londo is right that Vir is liable to get himself yoinked home in an unpleasant fashion if he opposes the Narn genocide too loudly. 

If Londo seeing his own youth in Vir is in any way accurate, then he changed dramatically and horribly over the course of his life. A good reminder that life really is all about choices, and you can make new ones anytime. If only Londo would make some new choices! He seems blind to his own opportunities, deep in the Sunk Cost Fallacy.

"Sometimes I miss that we don't talk anymore, Delenn." "We never really talked, Londo." "No, I suppose not."

wow. So darkly sad. There is something sad (although mostly pathetic) about how Londo is so desperately lonely now that no one will hang out with him anymore. He is the architect of all his own woes.

Another totally heterosexual dinner date between Garibaldi and Franklin. This time, Garibaldi cooked and had Dr Franklin over! Slash mental health intervention? Steven has a legal prescription for stims because he has to work 36 hour shifts. And Garibaldi has feelings. And Steven has very defensive feelings, so Garibaldi's probably onto something.

This is an extraordinary level of kind, gentle, thoughtful, concern between men. I love the tenderness. What an excellent plot to put in. Love seeing people try to be good to each other and build bonds and reach out. Funny that the concern is that Dr Franklin is doing too much space coke, though.

We have now seen Na'Far twice, and now his assistant. And!! I didn't realize! But he's Narn that Sheridan met while kidnapped onto the fight-to-the-death alien ship! I also love his and Sheridan's friendship. He wants to repay Sheridan for rescuing him, by being his bodyguard.  "Here is a man who will live to be a hundred and fifty." Hah!

The alien ship is indeed a probe, and it's running an intelligence test on the B5-ers. They provide correct answers, or the probe with blow up and take B5 with it. That's a high stakes first contact! And! One of the things they're offering to induce the humans to want to try to answer the questions, is another panacea. There were two or three panacea episodes so far, I was wondering if the theme would come back.

So far they seem to be saying "Panaceas are always sought after, but in reality there is no magical elixir for all medical ills."

Oh, Na'Far really did come here argue with G'Kar! no thank you!! G'Kar has been up to a lot. He is organizing a lot of resistance. He is organizing food drops -- the Centauri are not importing enough for everyone. 

Both Na'Far and G'Kar are being relatively reasonable. Except for Na'Far seemingly genuinely thinking that if G'Kar were to return to Narn, that he wouldn't be harmed. 

Dr Franklin is doing space coke! but as he said - he has to be alert on long shifts and he has to do emergency surgery. Unhealthy? Probably. Necessary to work those long hours? Definitely. Bad situation with no good choices. 

Vir, while unhappy about Londo arranging his promotion and transfer, but perks up when Londo says "In time women may even come to find you attractive." 

Oof, Na'Far is not finding the B5 Narn to be friendly. I hope G'Kar doesn't actually end up imprisoned on Narn! I'd rather hang with him on B5. 

Dang! Sheridan! Rude! Ivanova is not to be insulted, she is to be cherished. 

Garibaldi is being very decent. And rationally clear-eyed. He does not want G'Kar to return. 

"My fate is in the hands of G'Quan. What must happen, will happen. Thank you for your concern Mr Garibaldi. Good night."

Well, now I think he has some sort of plan! I don't want to think that he would be giving up, so I must believe he has a plan. 

Dr Franklin! Another round of space coke?! He's just reamed out a respected colleague on earth, and now he's got a surgery to perform. Uhhh, personally I'd rather my surgeon nap a little first. 

Huh, odd sequence of events here. I do think that it's an odd set-up for a technologically advanced species to go around threatening species and blowing them up if they aren't advanced enough. But it did blow up  like it was charging weapons to attack B5 and the data transfer made it....self-destruct instead? Anyway. peculiar! I hope there's follow-up! 

Na'Far did not persuade the B5 Narnuan people that G'Kar should be sacrificed for the faint hope that their families might not be harmed, and they want G'Kar to stay. Including the bodyguard guy! Good on them. I'm very glad G'Kar is staying. 

Garibaldi and Dr Franklin are having their third dinner date in this episode alone. Partner says "of course there's an AA episode in a 90s tv show," which I guess seems like it could be. I'll take some genuine-seeming friendships with male support networks where I can find 'em, though.

Bye, Vir! He really is leaving! I hope he'll be back more, too. Would he be in the title sequence if he was leaving the show after the third episode??

Overall, a lot happened! I wonder how Na'Far will fit into future episodes. I hope Vir comes back! And as always, I hope that Londo will get a fucking grip on himself and start making some baby steps towards doing the right thing. Because his current rational of "If I don't do the wrong thing, someone else will, and get the credit for it, while I lose out," is terrible. And he's been mired in it for awhile.

on to religious metaphor

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 62: Desperation

Opening his eyes to a dimmed area, Stiles saw that he was in the waiting area of a train station. Sitting up, he saw two women and a lawyer next to him before glancing at the Arrivals and Departures board, taking note of the names of towns that were listed as well as a ticket booth.

He felt unsettled. Why was this place so…quiet? It was eerily quiet. He would've welcomed someone having a conversation, even if it was something he wasn't interested in.

Anything but the cold silence.

Stiles sat back in his seat, frowning as he dug into his pocket, his cold hand warming up to his pocketed keys. 

He turned to the doctor. "Excuse me," he whispered, grimacing a bit as she slowly turned to him. "Sorry, where are we?"

"We're at the train station.", she said. He frowned.

"Right. Okay. Helpful.", Stiles nodded sarcastically, and cleared his throat. "Which train station exactly?"

She turned, looking at the Arrivals and Departures board. "Train station number 137."

Stiles looked at the board as well, then turned back to the lady. "Did you see me come in?", he asked.

"No.", the lady said. Weird. 

"How long have you been here?", he asked.

"Maybe an hour?", she replied, nonchalantly.

On the other side of her, the lawyer spoke up, reading his newspaper. "We got here at the same time.", he said before glancing at Stiles. "It's been at least six hours."

Stiles' eyes widened a bit. "Six hours?", he asked. The man nodded, returning to his newspaper.

Stiles frowned. Six hours…? What train takes six hours to arrive and depart?

He shook his head before talking to the woman again. "Where are you goin'?"

The lady froze, unsure of her answer before patting herself down on her white coat. "Um. I-I had a ticket with me somewhere." She frowned as she continued searching. "Um…"

"You always travel in your work clothes?", Stiles asked.

"I must have been in a rush.", she said.

Stiles frowned and looked at the ticket booth before standing and walked over to it.

He looked at the dusty, dirty desk, shocked at how dirty it was. He slid his fingers on the desk, the pads of his fingers immediately collected the dust. "Do you know if anyone works here?", he asked.

Before he could get an official answer, a speaker came on, catching the attention of the passengers. "The following stops have been canceled. Hollatine, Batten, Bay Burry, Deer Ridge, Red Oak… Trenton, Anderson, King Springs."

People started standing up from their seats, walking over to the darkened tunnel. Stiles, interested, moved over to the readying passengers. "Excuse me, where are those trains going?", he asked.

No one answered. What the hell is wrong with these people…?

What was up with the trains?

Where were those places?

He continued searching for an answer and became impatient to the people who ignored him "Does anyone know where this train's going?!", he exclaimed.

He sighed, irritated as he looked up at a sign that said, "To Trains". A little hope sparked in Stiles as he was ready to leave the place and find his way back if he had to.

Wind began to blow and leaves picked up, being carried through the air. He frowned as he heard a horse neighing from the tunnel.

People started pushing back the others behind them, making way for the Ghost Riders and their horses. They hid down by the benches in fear.

Stiles, confused and worried, only backs away. A Ghost Rider rode up, holding his whip and assaulted a man's face with a crack, making him fall down.

The Stilinski boy could only watch as two more showed up, dropping off a man and saw as the rope around his hands and feet had disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Once three more Ghost Riders arrive, Stiles finally moved away to hide before he was next, only to feel someone grab him, spun him around and pushed his back up against a pillar.

Groaning, he looked up at whoever was holding him to send a complaint, only to stop short in shock once he saw who it was.

The eldest Hale, however, couldn't return the same sentiment. "It just had to be you.", he said, annoyed.

The two watched as the horses neighed and guided their riders back down the tunnel, making each passenger sigh with relief, nonchalantly returning to their seats.

Peter followed suit, walking over to his bench with Stiles right behind him. "Peter? Peter, what are you doing here?", Stiles asked. Peter turned around to face him with a frown once he found his seat. 

"How are you here?", Stiles asked. 

"What do you mean, how am I here? I'm here. You're here. We are all here. Now, get the hell away from me, Stiles.", Peter grumbled, sitting down.

Stiles sighed and shook his head as he looked at the other passengers before looking at Peter who's expression matched the others in the room.

"Hey, Peter. Peter." He snapped his fingers. "Peter!" Peter's eyes stared up at the boy. "What are you doing?", Stiles asked.

"I'm waiting for my train.", Peter simply responded.

"Okay, did you not just see that?", Stiles asked. 

"See what?", Peter asked, making Stiles frown in confusion. What the hell was happening? Did he not just save him? 

"The horses, the hogtied businessman with the magically dissolving ropes?", Stiles listed, making Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Stiles, quickly frustrated, turns to the other passengers. "I'm sorry, did anyone just see that!?"

The others gave Stiles a weird look before returning to what they were doing, which wasn't much. It bothered him. Why was no one bothered by what just happened?

"Do you mind?", Peter asked the boy. "You're blocking the board." He nodded towards the Arrivals and Departures board. "I'd like a little warning before my train arrives."

Stiles frowned as he looked at the man. "Okay. So you're waiting for a train. How did you get here?"

"Pretty sure I took a cab.", Peter responded.

"Last time I saw, you were being locked away in Eichen House.", Stiles said. Peter frowned, blinking as he realized.

"I was in Eichen.", Peter muttered, looking up at him. "Thanks to you."

"Memory's good.", Stiles said. "Can you remember how you, uh, got out? They discharge you?"

"No, the power went out. And I ran like hell.", Peter explained.

Stiles eyebrows furrowed. "That's it? You just ran?"

"Yes, that's it. I literally just ran away from the insane asylum that was holding me hostage!", Peter said. "Until I came home with Derek and after the whole thing with Samantha's family, it was raining one day… and this horseman appeared in front of me."

The eldest Hale's eyes widened. "I got shot.", he recalled, making Stiles' eyes widen.

Peter suddenly got up, pacing back and forth. Stiles took his place on Peter's seat.

He glanced at the ticket booth, the Arrivals and Departures board, before looking at Peter again. "How long have I been here?", Peter asked him.

"We saw you three months ago.", Stiles said.

Peter nodded. "Yes, but I saw Samantha…after she and her father and brother met. She had a nosebleed and–" He suddenly gaped at Stiles. "I've been missing for three months and no one came for me?"

Stiles held his hands up in surrender. "We assumed you didn't want to be bothered with Sam's family mess.", he said, making the man frown. "But that's what the Ghost Riders do, they erase you."

"Ghost Riders?", Peter asked. "Ghost Riders of the Wild Hunt?"

"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about?", Stiles asked, eyes wide.

Peter sighed, sitting down at the bench on the opposite side of Stiles. "Of course, I know what you're talking about. They ride the lightning. They are an unstoppable force of nature, but, I promise you, they don't make pit-stops in train stations."

He glanced over at the old lady that sat on Stiles's bench, watching as she gave him her best sultry smile.

Peter grimaced and shrugged before looking at Stiles. "I've escaped one prison only to land in another one. And this looks like the underground lair of a depressed bureaucrat.", he mumbled, glancing around.

"Come on, there's gotta be a way out of this place, right?" Stiles started up. "Have you tried looking around? Have you talked to anyone who knows anything?"

"If this is the Wild Hunt, there is no escape. You and I are doomed to ride the storm...forever.", Peter said.

"Yeah, we're not in the storm," Stiles stood up, walking towards him. "We're in a train station. But we can get out of a train station."

"We can't get out of here, Stiles. Because this place isn't real.", Peter countered.

Stiles looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Peter huffed. "Beacon Hills doesn't have a train station."

Stiles frowned before looking at the doors that were locked over near the corner where the ticket booth stood.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the doors, immediately tugging at the locks. Peter got up, followed after him and watched him. "What are you doing?"

Stiles glanced back at him. "Little help, please?", he asked, frowning at the man.

Peter rolled his eyes and got up. As he moved to the door, he grabbed the lock, and yanked it, destroying the chains.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Okay."

He opened the doors, and ran through, confused as he was transported from the door that was near the tunnel.

Peter noticed him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as well. "What the hell?" Stiles mumbled to himself, running back through the door and did it again, and again.

Panting, he thought of doing it once more, frowning at Peter's slight amusement.

"No, no, no, keep going.", Peter nodded to him.

Stiles snapped at him. "I don't see you comin' up with anything."

"Stiles.", Peter frowned as he caught a sight from the corner of his eye. The entire time Stiles was running around, he'd noticed a boy staring at the two.

He whispered. "Left shoulder, against the pillar. Don't look.", Peter advised. Much to his disappointment, Stiles did the opposite, seeing a blurry boy. "I said don't look.", Peter sighed.

"Yeah.", Stiles mumbled.

Peter looked at Stiles. "He's watching us."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… every person in this station is either comatose or catatonic. He seems very interested in keeping an eye on us.", Peter informed and nodded his head in that direction.

Stiles turned his head, looking back at the boy who was still watching and stormed over to him. The boy ducked behind the pillar. "Hey!", Stiles called, going the other way.

The boy looked over to see Stiles, only to get stopped by Peter, startling Stiles. "Oh, my god!", Stiles choked, flinching and settled down knowing who it was.

"Why are you watching us?", Peter glared at the boy.

"You tried the doors.", he chuckled. "Nobody ever tries the doors."

"Sounds like you have.", Stiles said.

"The ones that I could open. I've tried everything else.", the boy replied.

"Not everything.", Peter said. "You're still here."

"Yeah, it seems like you got some kind of a plan.", Stiles said. "So why don't you tell us about it?"

The boy scoffed. "I can tell you. Doesn't mean you can do it." 

Stiles chuckled, nodding. "Oh, we can do it." He paused, hinting at Peter. "He can, he can do it…"

"Well, it's right in front of your face." The boy explained and both Peter and Stiles faced the black void on the tunnel's archway. "You didn't see it, did you?"

"I saw it.", Stiles declared.

"Then why'd you waste so much time running through the doors?", the boy asked. "I'll tell you why. Because it's all part of the illusion. You're afraid. And they want you to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid.", Peter said and headed for the tunnel. He got closer until he started to slow down, hesitant.

The boy lightly smirked. "Can't do it, can you?" He glanced up and over at Stiles. "He can't do it."

"We really should kill him.", Peter said to Stiles.

"Or you can just walk through it.", Stiles suggested, walking towards him.

Peter let out a heavy breath, readying himself. 'Push me.", he tells Stiles.

"What did you say?", Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Push me!", Peter exclaimed.

Stiles, confused, held onto Peter's back, and shoved Peter through. Peter stumbled over his feet, but stopped and glanced around.

"Now you're gettin' it.", The boy smiled widely, heading off into the tunnel.

Peter glanced back at Stiles. "Stiles. Stiles, let's go.", Peter ordered.

Stiles didn't move. Instead, he stared into the dark tunnel and sighed. Peter frowned, and grabbed Stiles by the shirt and pulled him into the darkness with him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Groaning softly, Sam woke up to the sound of loud beeping. Looking up, she sees the ceiling of a car. Her eyes widened as she sat up from the reclined seat.

She was inside the jeep? How? Aside from that, she saw a man hooking a latch onto the Jeep's bumper and she quickly pressed the horn, scaring the man.

Once he saw Sam, he let out a relieved sigh. "Christ–"

"What're you doing to the Jeep?", Sam asked. 

"Taking it to the Pound. What're you doing inside it?", he asked. Sam glared at the man, and pulled out a set of keys, hoping he'd take the hint.

Before the man could say anything, Lydia stormed up to the man. "Hey!", she called. "You can't tow this Jeep."

"Paperwork says I can.", the man said, glancing down at his clipboard. "It's reported as abandoned."

"Does it look abandoned to you?", Sam yelled, shocking Lydia.

Lydia placed her hand on the hood, turning to the man. "It's not."

He looked at her. "Oh, so this is your vehicle?"

Lydia tilted her head a bit. "Does it matter?"

He scoffed. "Sounds like a no."

Scott ran up, suddenly. He panted, walking over to the driver's side of the jeep. "It's mine. Uh, my Jeep. Thank you. I'll move it. Once I get the keys.", he glanced into the windshield at Sam with raised eyebrows.

The guy shrugged. "I'm sorry, once it's on the hook…"

"Please don't say, 'you're on the hook".", Lydia frowned, unamused.

"Well, I can't now." The man was about to leave and Sam frowned.

Scott stopped the guy. "O-Okay," He started. "Look, there's gotta be something that we can do. Sign something? Call someone?"

"Pay someone?", Lydia added, opening her purse. The man grinned. "Drop fee's a hundred and fifty. Cash."

Lydia pulled out her money and Scott's jaw dropped, sputtering in disbelief. "A hundred and fifty?"

He looked at the jeep. "This thing isn't even worth that much."

Sam frowned at the boy. "Watch it, McCall!" Scott's eyes widened at Sam. "Come on, Scott," Lydia fussed. "How much you got?"

His eyes widened at her. "Uh, how much have you got?", he asked, sticking his hand into his back pocket. 

"Just give me your money.", she hissed. Scott sighed, and took out a small wad, counting it. "All I have is $50. And when I say 'all' I mean all."

Lydia took the money with her $100, handing it to the guy and he happily took it, unhooking the Jeep and headed up into his truck lifting up the platform in the back and finally left.

Scott glanced at Sam. "How the hell did you even get in?"

"Did… Did you sleep in the Jeep?", he asked, as she opened the door, keeping one door unlocked.

"I don't remember even getting in…", Sam said. Scott placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. "Why'd you save the Jeep?", Scott asked.

"Because it's not just a Jeep.", she said. "It's Roscoe."

"Roscoe?", Lydia asked.

"Yeah.", Sam nodded. 

"Okay so, why save Roscoe the Jeep?", Scott asked.

"Because I remember it. And, I remember someone always taking care of it. Plus, it just appeared out of nowhere when I was just walking around.", Sam said.

"Made it appear? Made it appear…", Lydia whispered, her eyes widened in realization. "Like how Corey made the Library key card appear even though it was invisible?", she asked, making Scott look at her in realization as well. "And how he made the Ghost Rider at the party appear.", Scott added.

Sam looked at the jeep. "I don't know how, or what I did, but it's here.", she frowned. "I just was so upset and wanted to find Stiles. I felt like I was alone in this, so I did some pacing and found myself in front of it."

She looked at them. "I think I remember being tired, but I don't remember getting in the jeep."

"Okay, but why Roscoe?", Scott asked, finding the name weird.

"I don't know. I just know that that's what it was called.", Sam said.

She looks at them. "I think this is another relic."

However, on the underside of their world, Stiles, Peter and Trent walked further into the tunnel. It didn't make sense. If there wasn't a train for Beacon Hills, why were they there to begin with? Why them?

His thoughts paused as they came up into another part of a train station.

"Congratulations," Peter muttered. "You found another part of the phantom train station."

Stiles kept walking. "Is this the way out?"

"If it was, we would be leaving.", Peter said, annoyed. Trent stopped them. "Thanks for your input." He looked back at him.

"We're trying to get out here and go back to our home and people who need us. At least I am.", Stiles said. 

"By that, you mean back to your ridiculous friends?", Peter asked. "This would be easier if Sam were here. She could probably detect us in the dark and bring us back.", Stiles muttered. 

"Sam?", the boy asked. "Sam Wilson?", he asked, looking at Stiles who looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"So, you're Stiles.", he said. 

"How do you know about her?", Stiles asked, frowning. "She's about this tall," Trent lifts his hand a little by his head, "Puffy hair?"

Stiles nodded. "I saw her.", the passenger said. "She can see the people in here. Most of them are already called for death. I'm pretty sure I'm on my way too."

Stiles and Peter looked at each other in shock before looking at the boy. "Where'd you see her?", Stiles asked. "In a house. She was with another girl. Lydia, is it?"

Stiles' eyes widened. They were still friends…. Thank God. "What house? Who else were they with?", he asked.

Trent shrugged. "Some woman. But she's dead. How Lydia was able to see her is beyond me.", he said, moving away from the tracks.

"You might want to stay off the tracks. 'Cause that's the way in and out." He pointed down at the end of the tunnel where it's doused in darkness. Stiles and Peter nodded, getting up on the platform.

"So, what, we're dying?", Stiles asked. "That's why we're in this station?"

"Yes.", the boy said. "Okay so, how were you able to be seen by Sam? D-Did you talk to her? Anything?", Stiles asked.

"I talked to her and I was actually able to speak, but–" Stiles cut him off. "What did you say?"

"I told her that whatever that she was looking for was right in front of her face.", he said. "And before I could get anything else, I got interrupted by a woman. A dead woman."

Stiles frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "A dead — a dead woman?"

The boy nodded. "What do you mean?", Stiles asked, watching as the boy's behavior suddenly got desperate. 

"They're coming.", he says, making them aware of the horses' neighing.

Trent ran over behind a pillar to hide himself, making  Stiles and Peter do the same as they watched at the end of the tunnel burst into green smoke.

In came a Ghost Rider with two more riding behind the first. The horses galloped down the tracks into the darkness of the other end of the track.

Sighing out of relief, the three moved from behind their pillars. "That's the way out?" Peter pointed to the entrance where the riders appeared. Trent gulped, nodding. "How in the hell are we supposed to do that?", Peter asked.

"We jump.", Trent said.

"Jump?", Peter looked at him with wide eyes.

"On the back of the riders as they go through.", Trent explained, quickly.

"Is that all?"

"I've been timing it.", Trent said, looking at Peter. "Look, we can jump from here just before they go out."

"I think you're confusing your pronouns. We aren't going to do anything.", Peter said, swinging a finger between Stiles and him. "But you should absolutely give that a shot."

"Do you not wanna get out of here?", Trent asked, frustrated. "We want to get out alive, okay? How do you know this works? Seems like a lot could go wrong.", Stiles said.

"Look, I can't stay here. I'm losing my mind in this place.", Trent's voice desperate.

"I think you have an excellent grasp of the situation. I say go for it.", Peter said.

Stiles frowned at the man. "Peter." 

The horses neighed in the distance once more. Trent tapped Stiles's shoulder. "Hey, they're coming back."

Peter and Stiles got behind one pillar and Trent got behind another, waiting. 

Peter looked around the corner and Stiles nudged him. "No, we can't let him do this, right?"

"What if he's right?", Peter asked.

"Hey, we'll figure something else out.", Stiles said.

He turned to Trent, sure that there was another way. It had to be… "Hey, look, there's gotta be another way out of this place."

"But there isn't.", Trent shook his head. "I've been looking for months. Are you comin' or not?"

"It's all you.", Peter said, stepping away as the  Ghost Riders passed him and Stiles. Trent readied himself up just before Stiles tried to run for him only for Peter to stop Stiles, pulling him back. "Let him try.", Peter said.

They watched Trent take off running and jumped onto the back of the horse, struggling to stay onto the Ghost Rider as they kept on riding towards the invisible portal. "Come on, come on.", Peter whispered, nervous.

Trent was close enough until it was his and the other Ghost Rider's turn. The horse traveled through as well as the Ghost Rider did.

However, the portal reflected him off of the rider like a mountain ash barrier, throwing him on his back.

Before Peter or Stiles could say anything, Trent's pain-filled screams shocked them into silence as they watched him be swallowed by green like fire, burning his body into ash, only leaving behind a skeleton.

"Somehow I don't think that went the way that he was hoping.", Peter said letting out a soft breath.

"No, wait." Stiles shook his head, jumping off of the platform, and ran over to Trent's skeleton. "Stiles, he's dead. You see his face? Trust me, he's gone.", Peter emphasized.

Stiles said, frustrated. "You knew he'd die."

"I didn't know. I mean, I assumed.", Peter said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Stiles turned to Peter. "But you could have warned him."

"He was gonna do it anyway. Now, we know.", Peter said, exasperated.

"Know what?", Stiles asked.

"That we're stuck.", Peter declared, jumping down and walked towards Stiles. "It's over. We are trapped because that was our only way out."

"Or that's just what they want us to believe.", Stiles said, still feeling hopeful. 

Peter looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "What?", Peter growled. "What is it with you teenagers? You think that you're so special? You think the rules don't apply to you? Do you get it? We are dead and buried."

Stiles watched as Peter dug into his pocket, grabbing his wallet. Peter opened it up, grabbing the few bills Stiles had in there. "Money? It's worthless." He let them drop to the floor before Stiles could reach for them.

"Driver's license? Credit cards?", Peter took them out, tossing them onto the tracks. Stiles tried to grab his things. "Give me my damn wallet back.", Stiles said under his breath, getting upset.

"It's all meaningless.", Peter said and threw the wallet onto the ground and saw Stiles's keys to his Jeep in his pocket, grabbing those. "Keys?"

"Give me my keys.", Stiles frowned, panting. Peter tossed them up onto the platform. Stiles glared at Peter, his eyes glossing.

What was up with Peter's defeat? If he wasn't persistent, he wasn't Peter. He knew that. Peter wasn't a liar. Deceiving, yes, but dishonest?

He must really feel defeated.

"What, did you think you were gonna drive us out of here? Is that what you thought? Do you get it? We don't exist. And we are already forgotten.", Peter said.

"Somebody's gonna remember me.", Stiles determined.

Peter frowned at him, pulling out a picture of the 5 teens sitting on a bench. "This? This was already gone. It's not going to matter.", he said, throwing the picture down.

Stiles scrambled to catch the picture, holding it in a tight hand.

"Lydia, or Scott, Malia, Sam. They're gonna find me, all right? They'll come for me.", he stood, glaring at Peter. "But who would ever come for you?"

Peter slowly nodded at him. "You give me a call when your high school sweethearts conjure up a plan to get out of here.", he said before storming off. 

Stiles frowned, looking at the picture in his hand.

Looking at his forever growing adoration, his eyes glistened. He spent his last days in his jeep with her.

He had finally said 'I love you'. Not that he was in love with her, but a full on confession. Not just out of desperation and fear, but out of honesty. He wanted her to know. He always did.

He looked at his best friend. Though the two butted heads, that was his brother at the end of the day and he hoped Scott knew that. He wanted him to know that.

He looked at his previous lover, someone he'd help become docile. Human, once more. He believed in her. He wanted her to have a life outside of being a coyote and all though it took some time, it was worth it.

Though they didn't have the best ending, he still cared. He never stopped.

Lastly, his first friend. The girl that never failed to make him smile. The one that accepted all his shenanigans and even joined in them. He couldn't bear the thought of her forgetting him. Not after what she said.

She was the sister he never asked for, but welcomed all the same. She was his Mother Hen when her mom or Melissa wasn't able to be. He'd never ask for anything more if he could just hear her say how clumsy he was or how stupid he was to give up.

She'd fight to make sure everything was okay again.

And that's what he was gonna do. With or without Peter's help. He placed the picture into his plaid shirt's pocket, gathering his things before leaving the tracks.

[tomatoluvr69]

Sorry you’re experiencing sad events:(

Ah thank you, it is quite alright…I am good at grief, it’s familiar to me…the rest of this got slightly lengthy so I’m putting it beneath a cut because obviously I have no idea who reading this might not care to be reminded of loss.

I’m not lucky of course to have gone through a significant loss during adolescence…but I am very lucky that I took from that experience the epiphany that to begin to heal, you must feel it fully and let it ravage you as much as physically possible…while maintaining as much of a standard of care for yourself as possible. Maybe not “you” so much as me— that’s what I’ve found helps me. I think a lot about Victorian mourning customs, or the practice of sitting shivah, etc. (I know there are more worldwide, these are just the ones I’m most familiar with due to cultural proximity); and how much a period of battening down the hatches and hunkering down and giving yourself up as a tide of feelings beyond your control comes in to wash over you can/should be engrained within both the structures of society and within the way we think about our own emotional trajectories surrounding loss. I live with someone in death care, at an eco-burial cemetery, and something that has resonated with me from him & from other friends who have worked there is that the difference in closure journeys between people who go through a traditional American funerary process (i.e. taboo, compartmentalized, jarring…I have a lot of thoughts about funerals in this culture and the way they injure the living but that’s a long ol thang and I don’t have it in me right now) versus the families and close ones of the decedents at the green sanctuary who are getting fucking down and dirty with the process— they are digging the grave with him, they are picking out the headstones, they are watching their loved ones lowered manually in nothing but a shroud (and sometimes some garments inside it), they are picking up a shovel and placing the earth back on top, they are creating wreaths out of pine boughs and wildflowers six foot in diameter above the mound…these are the ones who come back to the sanctuary months later and speak about how being involved with their grief allowed…something to occur. All of this is secondhand for me, my friends **** and *** could say this so much better but I’m not going to tell them about tumblr lmfao.

This has gotten away from me. Point is that I have accepted long ago the need for grief, (and the concept of grief as the natural continuation of love) and I can look it square in the eye and face it head on. Does it still fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucking suck?? Yes. Is it easier for me if I transition intentionally into a languid state like a brumating lizard…also yes…which is where I’m at right now.

So I am doing alright (all things considered that is) & just must force myself at gunpoint to give myself extreme grace and allow for levels of rest and behaviors that I would not ordinarily indulge in routinely…I’m coming out of the worst of the shock & able to go about some of my normal activities. And also in this particular case I’d known it was coming for a long time, it just happened months earlier than expected, which is a whole nother feeling as well… Mostly I’m just listening to a lot of familiar and beloved comfort music, meal prepping big batches of things when I’ve got some energy so I can just eat from them when I’m feeling really rough, and pouring myself into garden prep which was the most beautiful and profound balm for me when I experienced the last death of a loved one in spring of 2020. This won’t be as difficult, I won’t get into specifics…but I anticipate a lot of garden time as like…stopgap therapy again. Anyways this sort of turned into a diary entry and I’ve done enough oversharing on my blog for the day…thanks for the kind wishes. I will be okay, but part and parcel with that for me is accepting that I won’t be okay for a while and just changing my expectations and standards for myself and my lifestyle into realistic ones, and also just straight up letting myself lie down feeling bad with generous frequency so it can have time to build and then dissipate naturally like it must if i would like to ever move on. If I feel it, then I can process it. It’s in trying to ignore it and shove it aside without confronting the truth of loss and change that the grief gets stuck and begins to morph and malinger into deep spiraling harm, in my incredibly limited (I’m super young and never lost a parent/sibling/partner/child) experience

[aita-alternia]

AITA for locking the doors when my (5.5, F, teal) moirail (5.5, F, cerulean) didn’t come back to the hive before daybreak? My moirail said she would be back before the sun came up, but she wasn’t, and we live in an area with very active undead during the day, so all hatches must be battened and reinforced thrice every day to keep them out. My moirail knows this, and she also knows it is very important that we stay safe and make sure we are sheltered during the day.

When she wasn’t back by the time the sun rose and she wasn’t answering her palmhusk, I assumed she’d found shelter elsewhere and locked up. A few hours later I heard thumping, but that is very common during the daylight hours because of the wild undead and other assorted terrifying deadly monsters. Come nighttime, I exited my hive to find my moirail hunkered down under one of the awnings, bleeding profusely from where two of her limbs used to be.

I got her to a mediculler immediately and she’s expected to make a good enough recovery to still be useful to the Empire one day! They fitted her with some nifty robotic prosthetics and the awning helped mitigate the harsh effects of the sun and prevented her from dying from its rays. I am very relieved she’s okay and I find her so pitiable now, I just want to cuddle her and take care of her more than I ever have before.

But she is very angry with me. She says I should have opened the door to let her inside. I think this is very silly of her, honestly; she knows I couldn’t do that. She didn’t let me know she was making her way back to the hive in the daylight, and I had no way of knowing it was her at the door, and it would’ve been incredibly unsafe for me to leave it unlocked. She does not seem to be able to see sense on this matter, and I fear she may break up with me over this. AITA?

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

A Grad Student’s Notes on The Well of Loneliness (1 of ?)

I started (technically re-reading) Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, the banned British Lesbian classic from 1928. I read this book once ten years ago but man, I must have been sleeping or something then because wow this slaps very hard (and I’m not even on page 50 yet). 

So far, Hall writes more like a Victorian writer than someone like Woolf or Joyce who both more closely embody modernism (the three were contemporaries which is why I compare them). 

Her heroine Stephen Gordon is said to be very close to Hall herself. She was also a rich couple’s only child and was attracted to women. The historic term which she used to describe herself was “invert” which was based on German sexology in the late 1800s and early 1900s; male inverts were thought to have female souls and female inverts were thought to have male souls. Hall’s novel featured a main character who was a female invert, like she herself was. Likely Hall would either be a butch lesbian or trans today (we can’t say which because she lived before there was a clear delineation between those two identities; the two communities have been extremely close historically). 

Stephen’s relationships to her parents and her first crush on one of the young maids is detailed in this section of the book. She’s closer to her father than her mother. She idolizes both her parents who don’t really seem to know what to do with her. She’s protective of her hyperfeminine mother and tries to copy her father and the stable master whom she comes to trust as a good friend. 

Her father is also shown secretly studying a German theory of sexology book late at night (Ulrichs) because he thinks his daughter is an invert. Hall did eventually go study in Germany as a young woman so that’s probably where she learned about these theories herself. Weimar Germany had surprisingly progressive attitudes towards LGBT people and had one of the biggest gay and trans communities in Europe in the 1910s and 1920s. Hall went there in the early 1910s before WWI and that’s where she met one of the major loves of her life, the singer, Mable Batten. 

Hall’s faith (she was a Catholic) informs this novel much more than I had expected. Young Stephen becomes obsessed with trying to cure the Maid Collin’s injured knee by praying to Jesus to take the pain instead. She also directly says she’s fine with taking punishment if she’s caught thinking about Collins when she’s supposed to be doing her school work. Hall doesn’t shy away from the intensity of Stephen’s feelings; the rawness of her characters’ emotion reminds me of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (an instant favorite for me). If you’re going to love you may as well love with a reckless abandon that borders on madness or religious devotion (take your pick). Both Hall and E. Bronte would agree on this point. 

Collins is dismissed for an affair with the footman, who is also sacked. Stephen’s next obsession is her horse that her father buys her for her birthday who- I really wish I was kidding-she also names Collins. There was known coding between women and horses in Victorian pornography so much of her audience would know what she’s doing here but even without that connection; Hall’s basically winking at us here because she made it so obvious that we know the insinuation. 

Not even fifty pages into the book and I can already see why 1920′s England lost it’s mind over this. I am a 21st century American Lesbian myself and some of my reactions at different points were also- “Did she really just say that? Oh, girl...” And yes, she did. Hall wrote extremely clearly so it’s impossible to mistake or misinterpret her message as anything else. 

This is the story of a masculine little girl who grows up to realize that she absolutely adores women (to the point of her own self-destruction, at times, which is a whole ‘nother level of ouch to read especially if you’re WLW yourself).

Hall did not shy way or back down when challenged in court over the matter at her censorship trial. Say what you want about the girls and horses, but hats off to Hall for making a valiant attempt to defend gay rights and gay love through penning this novel.

[beingapparent]

I really need to start writing concrete scenes, atm I don’t think my writing is above average. Anyway the title of this is “Curiosity Ex Nihilo”

they didn’t know what they were doing and they turned into slaves

We have the technology to do this and make things not all fall apart, we can just medicate everything away. You had your day, the night is young.

this is the fight, it never ends,

batten down the hatches, surrender all knowledge, begin again

you could be everything, the one thing you must sacrifice is the fires you light to pass the time,

and the home is the love you were born in, and the home is a place of filth, and everything on this earth hits too close to home ...

sly doesn’t see the debate he began, between the queen of hearts and the heart of man

For the worst is not, I tell you solemnly, the least, and the least is all the treasure of the best.

Ah, I think I know where you place the cause of total loss, and I take my stars from you. For I place him, just as I place the least, at the fullest outreach of my own heart, and eternally, I long for peace beyond reason.

I can probably bury my secrets and watch them grow up,

Listening all by myself to deals agreed in the dead of night between the manipulator and the saviour.

(joy is the opposite of sadness, love is the opposite of hate, the one who betrays innocence is first of all the coward)

we are the boat and the bunny rabbit stone-hearted inside, to be pulled apart from reality itself

brother to a circus without bread

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 9 - “The Empty Man Cometh”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, recording from the comms room of the USS Hephaestus Station. Welcome to day five thirty of our little camping trip to the Leo constellation.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: And, you’re just in time for today’s weather.

Hera: [over announcement system] Attention, crew members. It seems that the ion wind cluster that I’ve been monitoring for the past twelve hours is veering towards us after all.

Eiffel: [sighs in frustration] Balls.

Hera: I hoped to avoid any direct contact with this anomaly but, its path is shifting faster than I can adjust our trajectory. And it’s now in a direct intercept vector. Please take a moment to ensure that all precautionary measures we discussed earlier have been properly implemented. The interior environment of the Hephaestus should remain largely undisturbed, but brace yourselves for light turbulence and impaired functionality in some of our electrical systems for the next three and a half hours. Thank you.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: I swear to god. If it’s not a passing comet, it’s a solar flare. If it’s not a flare, it’s a geomagnetic storm. Now it’s an ion wind! Who knows there could be so much freaking weather without an atmosphere?

[door opening]

Minkowski: Eiffel. You locked down the solar panels this afternoon, right? I want to make sure that we’re ready for whatever this ion wind thing can throw our way.

Eiffel: Can we... ever really be... ready for anything, Commander?

Minkowski: I just want to know if we’re safe.

Eiffel: Define... safe.

Minkowski: Eiffel, come on. It’s a simple question.

Eiffel: Or... is it?

[pause]

Minkowski: Are you done now?

Eiffel: Yeah, I think it ran its course.

Minkowski: Did you have fun?

Eiffel: Eh... not really. Low hanging fruit. But yeah, I closed up the panels this morning, and double-checked to make sure they’re set about an hour ago. Hatches are battened down.

Minkowski: Oh. Good. Might just get through this without too much damage.

Eiffel: Riders on the storm, man. Riders on the storm.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Woah, haven’t heard that one in a while.

Minkowski: What is that?

Eiffel: Pulse beacon relay receptor. Basically, one way space fax. Looks like something’s coming down the pipeline from out friends over at Canaveral.

Minkowski: We’re getting a message from Command?

Eiffel: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Whatever happened to those weekly calls from mom and dad?

Minkowski: What’s it say?

Eiffel: Decoding trans-galactic transmissions ain’t like dustin’ crops, farm girl. Give me a moment.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Here we go, let’s see. [clears throat] “The golden rose is ready for melting. Proceed with designation alpha. Beware, five, the empty man has awoken”?

[pause]

Minkowski: What? Gimme that. Well that makes no sense. You must have transcoded it wrong.

Eiffel: Uh-uh. Well I won’t deny that’s totally something that could theoretically happen, if there’d been a transcription error, we wouldn’t be looking at words. We’d have like, I don’t know, random strings of ampersands and sevens. I don’t know what they’re playing at. This is the message Command wanted us to have.

Minkowski: But it makes no sense.

Eiffel: Uh, yeah. I’m kind of relieved we agree about that.

Minkowski: Well, can we radio them and ask for a clarification?

Eiffel: Unfortunately, the good folks at Goddard Futuristics spared every expense when they put this boat together. We only get high-speed cable vision for the incoming. We’re still on dial-up for the outgoing. We can send something, but it’ll take about two weeks to get a message back to Earth. And that’s if this ion thing doesn’t slow it down.

Minkowski: So then, what the hell are we supposed to do with this?

Eiffel: Hang on, I’ve got an idea.

[open intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Dr. Hilbert, you copy?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Loud and clear, Eiffel. What is it?

Eiffel: The words “golden rose”, or “designation alpha”, mean anything to you?

Hilbert: [over intercom] What? Why?

Eiffel: We just got a weird-ass telex from Command, we’re trying to make heads or tails of it.

Minkowski: Read him the other thing, the thing about the man.

Eiffel: Oh yeah, uh... “The empty man has awoken.” Ring any gongs?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Afraid not, Eiffel. Not entirely sure what that could be a reference to.

Eiffel: Hm, well, worth a shot.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Oh, uh, un momento, por favor, Doctor Hilberto. Looks like we’re getting another wire.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Alright, let’s see. “The Andromedas are broken. The northern light should be reversed. Alert four. The empty man approaches.” [pause] Have like a whole bunch of drugs been made legal while we’ve been up here? Am I missing out on that?

Minkowski: Alright. Hang on. Let’s look at this thing rationally. So the first two sentences of both of those messages make completely no sense, right?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Right.

Eiffel: Right.

Minkowski: Right. But then second halves followed a pattern. It’s a warning. Then something about this, “empty man”. Whatever that is.

Eiffel: Yeah. And then there’s the numbers. Five on the first one, and four on the second one.

Hilbert: [over intercom] A countdown, maybe?

Eiffel: What happens when we run out of numbers? [pause] The empty man... cometh?

[pause]

Minkowski: Look. For the time being, we have no idea what these messages mean, so let’s not get worked up about them. If Command is trying to... warn us about something, there’s not much we can do about it just from these messages. So let’s focus on what we do know is real, like this ion cloud that we’re about to go through, alright?

Eiffel: Yeah.

Hilbert: [over intercom] Indeed.

Eiffel: Good plan.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [clears throat] “The frozen pages are blank. Decide what to do with the time that is given to you. Emergency three. The empty man hungers.”

[pause]

Minkowski: On... second thought... I’m gonna inspect the armoury to make sure that all of our stores are in good working order.

Hilbert: [over intercom] And I’m going to run few security checks on our airlock perimeter.

Eiffel: Right. Yeah. Good plans. I’m just gonna... uh, hold down the fort here. I guess. Um, one second, dear listeners.

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: Hi again folks. It’s been about three hours since I turned off the recorder, and things have been pretty… quiet. Minkowski and Hilbert have been checking the station’s systems, making sure that nothing is too far out of the norm. [pause] They’ve locked up all of the airlocks, and access points, so we should be... pretty safe? Based on our… limited perception of safety.

[door opens and closes]

Minkowski: Alright, just finished our third sweep through the station, and everything is locked up tight.

Hilbert: The sensory alarm system is calibrated to its most sensitive setting. If anything other than ourselves moves throughout the station, we should know about it.

Minkowski: And, I’ve retrieved two of the handguns from the armoury, so if and when this “empty man” thing shows up, we should be ready for it.

Eiffel: Only two guns? There’s three of us.

Minkowski: Hilbert’s not a trained marksman, and I’m not putting a gun in the hand of a civilian just yet. It’s you and me, Doug.

Eiffel: Oh great. The full hoo-ah.

[ship creaks]

Eiffel: What the hell was that?

Minkowski: Easy, Eiffel. We’re hitting the worst of the ion winds. That’s our scheduled turbulence. How’re you doing, Hera?

Hera: A-Acceptable, Commander, although certain systems are beginning to show signs of strain.

Minkowski: Do your best to keep things under control. Let us know if anything goes seriously wrong.

Eiffel: Hey, on the plus side, at least we haven’t had any other messages from Command, so maybe this whole thing is just blown –

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Hilbert: You had to say something. You had to open your mouth.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [sighs] “The broken flower is in the vase. Don’t listen to your eyes. Danger. Two. The empty man sees you.” [pause] Okay, officially now, what the hell? What’s coming towards us? What – What is this apparently indescribable thing?

Minkowski: Don’t freak. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re still on a space station, eight light-years away from Earth, things can’t just show up on our doorstep.

Eiffel: You know, Commander, that would be a pretty good argument, if we didn’t have a crazy plant monster living in our air vents! Or, if we didn’t get weird whispers when we lost power! Honestly, there’s a lot of stuff that goes down around here that really shouldn’t be possible, but here we are!

Hilbert: Hera! Are there any objects or crafts on approach vector towards the Hephaestus?

Hera: ... No, Dr. Hilbert. Not... at the moment.

Minkowski: Hera? You don’t sound very confident.

Hera: Well, the ion winds are interfering with my sensory instruments, and my visibility of the airspace around the Hephaestus is down to eighty-one percent. Nothing is showing up on my sensory input, but I’m working with blind spots. [pause] However, the possibility of an object being nearby is... mathematically unlikely.

Eiffel: Mathematically unlikely? That’s the best we can do right now?

Hera: I’m sorry, I’m dealing with a rather extreme weather condition here. And a boarding party isn’t exactly something I prepped for this morning. Visibility down to fifty-six percent.

Eiffel: [sighs] This just keeps getting better and better.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: “There’s no way out. There’s no way out. But there is a way in. Danger. One. The empty man shall knock.”

[pause]

Eiffel and Minkowski, at once: Hera?

Hera: Still at zero sensory contact. Visibility down to thirty-seven percent.

Eiffel: Is there... anything we can do to get out of here? Can we... put the station in reverse and back out of this cloud, or something?

Minkowski: Hera’s already using all of her engine power to compensate for the ion winds. If we tried to change course now, we might end up in –

Hilbert: [whispered] Shh! Quiet! Don’t you hear that?

[distant sound of rhythmic creaking]

Eiffel: What was that?

Hilbert: Could just be side effect of the ion winds. We’re going through the worst of it now. It might be exerting enough energy on the ship to cause temperature fluctuation. It could just be metal in the ship’s hull expanding a bit.

Eiffel. There are a lot of “could”s in that explanation, Doctor.

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. Is anything going on with our hull?

Hera: ... Not... as far as I can tell, Commander, but visibility is down to nine percent. I’m basically flying blind for the next few minutes.

[hiss of escaping air]

Hilbert: [whispered] Just the Hephaestus compensating for the weather conditions. Atmospheric regulators, parametric stabilisers, all just doing their job. It’s all regular noises in process of keeping interior of the Hephaestus warm and stable environment.

Minkowski: [whispered] Are... you... sure about that, Doctor?

Hilbert: [whispered]...No. But I like the sound of my voice better than the sounds of what’s going on out there.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

Minkowski: [whispered] Hilbert. Thoughts?

Hilbert: [whispered] Well. That sounded like one of two things. Option one: simply the hull cooling after coming into contact with a... unusually warm pocket of gas that’s been swept up in the wake of the ion winds.

Eiffel: [whispered] What are the odds of that being the case, Doctor?

[pause]

Hilbert: [whispered] Within the realm of the possible? Barely.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

[pause]

Minkowski: [whispered] What’s the other option?

Hilbert: [whispered] Something’s walking on the outside of the Hephaestus.

Eiffel: [whispered] Oh! It’s him! It’s definitely him!

Minkowski: [whispered] Shh! Stop that! We don’t know that, Eiffel! Listen to Dr. Hilbert, it could just be the station reacting to the ion cloud. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation here.

Eiffel: [whispered] Come on, Commander. After all the crazy wabba-jabba we’ve seen on here? And with Command breaking radio silence for the first time in months to warn us? Yes. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation! And it is that the empty, hungry thing is out there right now! About to go big, bad wolf on our straw house!

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. There’s nothing moving inside the station aside from the three of us, right?

Hera: That’s correct, Commander.

Minkowski: [whispered] And all of the entrances to the station are still closed, right?

Hera: Rig- uh, ah, yes, sure! Probably?

Minkowski: [whispered] Probably?

Hera: I-I... I’m having some trouble connecting to aft deck airlock number three. I’m getting some low-level electromagnetic interference. Climate and pressure controls register as normal, but... I cannot confirm that the airlock has not been opened.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [whispered] “Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger. Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger.” That’s all it says.

[long pause]

[hiss of escaping air]

[distant tapping noise]

Hera: Not to alarm you all, but my systems indicate a power fluctuation is immin – [power cuts]

Minkowski: Right!

[crew shouting over each other frantically]

Hera: Hold on, hold on! Hold on! Lights back to nominal in exactly one second!

[sound of powering up]

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Oh god damn it!

Minkowski: What?

Eiffel: You have got to be kidding me!

Hilbert: What?

Eiffel: Those sons of bitches!

Minkowski and Hilbert, at once: What?

Eiffel: [exhales angrily] “The preceding six pulse beacon relays that you’ve received, have been part of a psychological experiment. Please disregard the content of these messages. And return to regular operational activities as soon as possible. Please record, and clearly label, any unusual crew behaviour, deviation from protocol, or undue lack of decorum that resulted on account of the transmission of these messages in your daily logs. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Hera: Well. Following that, this is going to seem a lot less sexy. But I’m happy to report that we’re finally starting to move past the ion wind cluster. Visibility is returning to normal, and systems are stabilising. I can confirm that there are no outside presences, or lifeforms with any degree of nutritional insufficiency at this time.

Minkowski: Thank you, Hera.

Eiffel: Those... bastards! How dare they put us through something like that? It’s cruel! And sick! And… other adjectives! What kind of person is deranged enough to call that an experiment?

Minkowski: Relax. We’ve all had enough excitement for one evening. Come on, let’s all just take a moment to cool off, gather ourselves, and... really reflect on how horrible what was just done to us was.

Eiffel: Commander, you’re not going to just... leave things at that, are you?

Minkowski: Oh don’t worry. I think you’ll find that – what did you say it was? Two weeks? Two weeks from tomorrow, the folks at Command are going to get a fantastically worded message from the three of us. Telling them exactly what we thought of their little test. I just wouldn’t want to spoil something like that by rushing into it. I think, gentlemen, we need a proper night’s sleep to really let our anger reach its full potential.

Hilbert: I concur wholeheartedly, Commander. If you require any sentiments beyond reach of the English language, I am happy to supply alternatives in Russian, Norwegian, German, Swedish, or Afrikaans.

Eiffel: Hey kids, I’ll log it in all six.

Minkowski: Sounds good. Goodnight, Eiffel. Doctor.

Hilbert: Goodnight all.

[door opens]

Eiffel: Goodnight.

[door closes]

Eiffel: Aw hell, speaking of logs. I guess you caught all of that, so... You might be able to pick up on the effect your twisted experiment had on us. Hint. It. Was. Awful! Sorry if things got a bit... crazy for a while there, dear listeners, but... you see the kind of things we have to deal with! And I used to complain about my boss at Pizza Hut. Anyway, from the USS Hephaestus Station, this is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight, folks.

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. The role of Minkowski was played by Emma Sherr-Ziarko. And the role of Hera was played by Michaela Swee. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. If you enjoyed tonight’s episode, please consider taking a moment to leave a review on our iTunes page. Reviews will only be used to let other people know about the show. Not as the basis for a creepy… psychological experiment! We… promise. Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcript by @saltssaumure

[dramaticsuspect]

Have you ever craved something, whether food or a feeling, and when you finally owned it on your hands, you suddenly had the urge to put it down or take a few steps backward? Most of the time, we tend to find alternatives for something we crave, just for our desires to be put at ease. Or maybe we thought we really wanted to taste and have it, but you suddenly had a change of heart when it's finally there, sitting pretty, waiting to be held and consumed.

Recently, I have been dealing with a lot of cravings in my life. At 3 a.m., when most pastries shops are closed and the food I badly want to ingest is unavailable, I tend to crave blueberry cheesecakes. During those times, I think my tastebuds missed the complementary taste of the saltness of cheese and the sweetness of blueberries; my mouth is salivating while I imagine myself indulging in it. I remember getting myself an alternative for blueberry cheesecake by eating a Lemon Square cheesecake topped with strawberry jam; it tasted good but wasn't good enough to scratch the itch. Maybe we crave something because there is a portion lacking within us; in my three a.m-blueberry cheesecake-cravings-saga, it's perhaps I'm too stressed with my daily routine, or I'm dehydrated, and I lack sleep.

I didn't know that it would be possible to feel the same cravings I have for blueberry cheesecakes to someone. I didn't realize that desire for a sensation could be much worse than badly wanting to eat a specific food. I keep on entertaining other people, hoping to find someone that could satisfy my hunger for something new that I must have been craving for ages. It doesn't matter whether I leave them after a month or two; if they are not good enough to quench my unseemingly desire for a strange sensation, I won't hesitate to drop them as I did to my barbie dolls when I finally outgrew my childhood. It doesn't matter to me who hurts who. All I can think about is giving someone a shot and seeing if they can ease my tumultuous craving.

After trying to entertain other people and finally finding a potential person who could make me feel the satisfaction I have always craved, I had the feeling of battening down the hatches. The moment he was standing and waiting for me to come over scared the living daylights out of me. It made me think, is this really the feeling I have been craving? Did I want to have company because I'm scared of being lonely or just bored?

Craving an uncertain feeling could be excruciating. It makes you insane and aware that you are hurting someone drastically. And since you know what you've done, you're ready to face the price of your crime, embracing the karma brought upon your lust.

— Craving,

words by @dramaticsuspect

[athena-endre]

Prolouge (Prologue)

During the nighttime is when it happened, my home, well let's start at square 1 and work our way to why I was gone for a decade. My “home” is not really a home like you would know it is, it is a fortified bunker of sorts that is out in the middle of the deep south away from everyone. Even more detail is needed as a retell me story based on the audio clips, pictures, videos etc. that I had collected while in my time in a different world. I am Athena Endre. I am currently on my way back from a booze run for the big celebrations going on today. The thrashing and blowing with the rain belting down just on the other side of a piece of glass was rocking my soul deep inside. To tell a little about myself before we get into where I was for a whole decade. I am fluent in Latin and Greek; I also know some other languages. I am trained in some combat skills. I am proficient in multiple different weapons. I have knowledge of both hunting and survival in many climates. I have been a prepper for a good many years and have no shame in saying this. I am all that is man, this is funnier as the story goes on. 

Back to the stormy and windy roads of rural Alabama I finally make it home all safe and sound. As I twist the big wheel on my steel door I feel safer. That is when a massive crack in the sky, my windows light up like the 4th o’ July. It happened, the exact time is 23:56, four minutes to midnight and the whole world becomes even brighter. The spinning increases as I continue to try to batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst. The world feels as if it will spin out of control soon enough here and it all crashes down, midnight.

After I quickly go through my assessment of me, making sure all my body parts are still a part of me. Once done I blast my way to the assessment of my interior home, everything besides a few missing, Ahem, magazines it is all here. My house is in good condition. I rush over and begin to untwirl my door and walk out, eyes closed. Strangely, I feel my face warmed, the air is smooth and moving. I open my eyes and look around; this is not Alabama.  I try to find my car, but it is nowhere to be seen. I enter the garage attached to my house and find my backup truck in there.

 I take it out and try to find the road. From my preliminary search of my area, I am still somewhere in the US, but all the signs are in a bastardized form of English. I take this information back to the home and begin to look through my library for any indication of what language this could be. I end up spending a whole afternoon in there and feel the grumbling of food. When the realization hits me that my fresh food supplies are weak. I do have plenty of canned goods. I sort through what fresh food I have and decide on a small salad and begin to eat it.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Is heard on the door. I quickly rush over and see what I can through my windows. It must be the feds; this day is the one we have been waiting for a while. I deftly and quickly pick up my pistol in the front junk drawer and put it in the back of my pants, I open my steel door and then open the door in front of me. The shock of what I see is awesome. Before me stand 2, what appear to be FBI agents. The first point of shock is that they are wearing really really old suits. One appears to be wearing a skirt and the other one trousers. They are both brown and accented with a white shirt. From my readings on in the fashions of yesteryear they both look straight out of the 19th century. The second striking appearance of them is that they are both women. This is not at all what I was expecting. I have been preparing for the feds since I was a teen but now, this must be some type of joke, right?

The taller one speaks; she has black hair and a darker but not dark skin tone. Her voice is rough and coarse. But her language is not English. The third most striking thing. I do my best to pick up what she is laying down.

“Whet air you?”

“Do you speak Latin?” It may be a dead language, but it is always hopeful, given the apparent time frame I have found myself in. 

“Yes, I do, does that work better for you, Miss?” Finally, I can hear myself and be able to communicate with them.” That was a 1 in a million shot, and cannot believed it worked.

“Thank God, what are you two here for? I have committed no crime.”

“Who is this god you speak of? Would you please come in for questioning?”

“Do you not know of God and his only Son? If not, then I will be explaining a lot later. What grounds do you want me to come in?”

The shorter blond pipes in

“We are with the HEF, since you are a teleport, we will have to take you in. The HEF is for scenarios like these from people literally falling out of the sky” She looks up and puts her hand on her brow.

“I can but lemme go and get into something a bit more appropriate, I will be out in just a second.”

This is strange, my digital clock has stopped working. The time is stuck at 12:00 flashing. I quickly get out of my bedtime clothing and dress up in one of my longer floral dresses and present myself back at the door.

“Ready to come with us? I promise we vill be gentle” The taller one giggles to herself as the shorter more active one chimes,

“She means nothing, we dont torture people” shaking her head viciously with a force as she tries to not sweat too much. Their vehicle is a 1920s car, it looks straight out of a silent movie, or the Great Gatsby. I enter the backseat and relax, fine rich leather just the way I like it. The other two get into the car, with the blonde being in the driver's seat. We are off and soon enough come upon that sign I first saw. It was an indication that we were not in Kansas anymore. It has a little subtitle in Latin, reading “Town of Aguafria”. The only two times I have heard of this is in the country song and the actual town of Agua Fria in New Mexico, but we are no in New Mexico. The town looks like your average rural southern town, run down shacks, oddly looking flags which resemble the confederates, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I have been taking pictures. I haven't touched it since I got home that stormy night. 

After another hour the agents start speaking in their native tongue, which I will call Anglish. I didn't catch much of what they were saying but it must be something pettier. After another hour's drive we reach a bigger city, this must be Washington. I do not see any of the sights or attractions of the nation's Capital. They just pass right on by too. After a light nap I see lights and what looks like a big city. I couldn't be that close to New York. We veer off to the side using a small towns gas station for refueling and resting we are back on the road.

 New York has never looked smaller and lower. There must only be about 2 to 3 million people in the city. There are no sights. Liberty Island has a massive building on it. Nothing about this looks right. Where am I, was the only thought going through my head as we reached the ferry to Liberty Island. At least I think it is Liberty Island, the building is adorned in gold and jewels almost like it is the palace of some American Royalty. The ferry service reads “Ferry to the Imperial Palace”, it took a second of me drooling to come to my senses. 

“Miss…? What is this? Where is the Statue of Liberty?” Dark Haired one speaks up,

“It is Agent Jane, and this is the Palace of the Empress. She is the only one who takes all the Imperial Island. The Statue of Liberty is that tiny statue in Paris.”

“Thank you, I guess the Empress must be a pretty big deal then” We go back into silence as the ferry docks off of Imperial Island. The car leaves it, and we enter the gates to the palace. It is a marvelous structure, reminiscent of the Sun King Louis the XIV. It has an air of age to it as well like this has been here a long while. The doors are of a fine southern Mahogany, the walls made of Italian marble, there are a few Greek statues too, namely of Sappho. The doors open and the cascading smell of weed, incense, and smoke pour out of the doors.

“The Empress shall see you now” We are escorted to the throne room. Her throne room still has the marble and statues and gold trimming, but it feels more like an 80s banking institution than an imperial throne room. The walls are not as ornate nor is the actual room made up of as many jewels or embellishing. The Empress was in the finest garments I have ever seen, they were definitely silk and most likely made in China. Her…. wife? I am leaving it at that because I do not know who the woman sitting next to her, usually on the consort throne, is. She is dressed just as finely but is still a woman. I was not expecting there to be a lesbian Empress but either way, I approach her and take myself some form of curtsy. She responds with a smile and speaks with a grace of feeling like the golden meadows in the autumn or the fresh snows of a fine winter night with the moon full and shining down upon it. It is liquid gold coming from her mouth and onto the floor.

“What year is it?” in the Latin language,

“Huh your Empress?” Trying my best to seem regal and formal

“You can address me as Fortuna. And you still haven't answered my question.”

“Well Fortuna, the year last time I checked was 2022, Russia has been at war with Ukraine since February and Covid was still on the loose. Joe Biden is president of the United States, and this is where the Statue of Liberty stands.” I look at her pleadingly and she looks down at me, her wife is asleep. 

“I see, you are what we call a teleport, have one about once in a decade and you are here with us for a decade. Now since you are a teleport you can only work with our HEF agents, who you already had the honor of meeting. They will be you introduction to our little world here. You may find all the secrets you are looking for and all the information to bring back to your world. Our scientists will hook up your bunker to our nearby electrical grid as well as provide you with your needed” she puts her hands up in air quotes style, “computers. We do not know where in computing your world is but in ours it is a government held secret. So do as we say, and you should be able to be ok. Any questions please speak up now.”

“Could I please get your introductory materials for your HEF. I wish to learn more about what I will be doing, and any stipulations I will have about interacting with the outside world.”

“Very good questions, as you know you are not from here, you can claim you are from South America, as no one has been there since the Andean Confederal Queendom collapsed, it has been a warzone ever since. Not many people will check this, as most are too ignorant of the region or too far up in themselves to care. Now since you speak Latin, that is how you will interact with the outside world. If you wish you could learn our local version of English, but it is not necessary. Any materials you need talk to your handlers Jane and Brunhilde. We like to call her Brunny around here since she is too damn cute. That is beside the point. You will be moved into the advanced areas, and work for any of the various organizations currently bound to our law.” With that she cuts off the speech and heads into her, and her wife’s quarters. I am left stunned in the room, the HEF? What is that. All my questions would be answered in due time with due responsibility. Little did I realize in the end how little I really know and how many times my life would be at risk of ending. 

[twotwinks]

p3 and M, I, N, A, T, O :)

this made me smile so much it's so smart i love you

M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you)

while i may not be into it, i will say the ryominas popped off with the aesthetics. everything that i've ever seen for those two absolutely fucks, even the sweet fluffy stuff that isn't meant to look cool is so chef's kiss thematically. if i were to ship them i'd be eating good

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

.....that being said, ryomina also happens to be one of the very few tags i have blacklisted on tumblr dskhld the ryominas are just too prolific. every other p3 post i see is about these bitches (affectionate) i see cool art of minato and thanatos and think ooh this fucks and then i see the tags and discover that it's also meant to be ryomina and i'm like aw man. Every Time!

also unrelated to p3 but ace attorney

N - Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

minato's hair drawn correctly (i.e. not symmetrical or so aggressively parted that you can't tell it's supposed to be hanging over his eye)

the protagonists together! i see a lot of matching art of them but i don't really see them actually being together often. i love to see them all hanging out i think they should all be bestest friends. as an extension of this, i also want to see more bankita of course. and more specifically of minato and minako together, especially as twins because that's my jam

more art of minato and thanatos that isn't meant to be ryomina akjds i don't say this to be hostile i just think thanatos's design fucks and i want to be able to interact with art of him without encroaching into a space i don't belong

A - Your current OTP(s)/OT3(s)/OTX(s)

bankita! bankita forever raaaaaah! they make me craaaaazy send help. i think i've probably already said everything i need to say about them multiple times over but i just really like them a whole lot. i've even started to drift away from souyo, which was my main ship involving yu, in favor of this one. it's also my only ship involving minato who is my favorite so i guess it gets priority dfkljhd

i'm also quite fond of akishinji, and it's even better if you throw minako in the mix! it's not an ot3 i was expecting to have, but her romance routes with both of them are really sweet and i already shipped them together, so. i was happy to find that there's at least a few other people out there who ship them too!

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

i'm not really aggressive about my headcanons dhkld they're headcanons for a reason. that being said i guess i did try to start a fight with p3re's first cutscene for making a minor change to minato's reaction to the dark hour which didn't work as well with my headcanon that he believes the dark hour to be a series of hallucinations and nightmares. he does actually have recurring nightmares too, the dark hour just doesn't happen to be one of them. i'm writing a whole fic about this, please wait warmly.

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

this one's mean. do i like put my spotify on shuffle or what.

untranslated liz triangle song...a minute-long reprise from a musical...an instrumental from a different musical...sappy country song that i could probably apply to a ship but is too generic to hit right...greensleeves...oh alright here we go

this one isn't quite as perfect as some other kairiki bear songs like heart nonsense and batten but i will say it's very baby minato core. to me. i dunno i think a lot about how none of his relatives ever wanted to keep him for very long and what that must have been like for him as a little kid. more thoughts about this will also appear in the aforementioned fic!

[the-hem]

"Construction." From the Maha Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Atman.

V-181. (Mental) construction is indeed the process of putting together (of constituents); it comes automatically into being and waxes fast unto pain, never unto delight.

V-182. ‘Indulge not in mental construction; in a state of stability, dwell not on positive existence. Persevere in stopping mental construction. Thus one never again pursues the trail of construction.

V-183. ‘By the mere absence of imagination, (the process of) mental construction dwindles automatically. (One act of) construction leads to another. Mind battens on itself, O sage !

V-184. ‘Getting (off construction) abide in the Self. Once this is done, what can prove difficult ? Just as this sky is empty, so is the entire cosmos.

Emptying the mind of the habit for story telling is requisition if one is to find the purest Self. We have already discussed how to meditate, how the darkness waiting behind the eyes, blank, terrifying is an insurmountable barrier between life and death and it cannot be explained nor willed into anything other than what it is: the mind.

When the mind adds its first comforting thought, it is, I am alive! Then come the urges to pee, to evacuate, eat, drink, masturbate, to desire the things the body longs for, then come the perceptions and opinions, anxieties, levers, buttons, pulleys and hooks the mind makes of the outer world.

The soul is the Preceptor of all of these. It becomes Self when the wool gathering in life ends and the pursuit of one's purposes become wonderfully clear. The Self cannot be found in the Scripture, in religion, practice, faith, or foundry. It must be found through ritual exception to the nonsense.

Does this mean those poor persons living in Gaza or Ukraine should sit and meditate and find the Self? And force their minds to reject the stories regarding their predicaments? These scenarios explain nothing about religion and religion has no way of explaining them because they should not be happening in the first place.

This brings us to the Utter Meaning of religion, what is ritual and what is Duty. To obey the laws of humankind and the Law of God as a matter of Duty permits the soul to sit within its body and define its luxury purposes as it purveys itself through life on earth.

All wealth, health, family and happiness attained in life without happenstance or corruption is obtained through attendance to duty first.

First the laws and the Law which prevent the deconstruction of life on earth. Then one sits and tames the mind, rids it of all of the bricabrac, and without delusion follows the course.