#why he was looking like the dead there in the end beyond the metaphor of a walking deadman and the effects of the horrors

[fuzziemutt]

The fact that Fritz's hand shakes with the gun when he comes out of the casket lives in my mind

A side effect of diazepam are tremors

But they're also a symptom of withdrawal.... Alongside sweating (pale skin), insomnia, and nausea...

And sometimes numbness

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

The Announcement

Summary: Never had (Y/N) been called to a meeting in King's Landing. And what further shocked her was to see her father there. But she never anticipated what came next...

Warnings: Swearing

******

Never in the Seven Hells did (Y/N) expect this. Even Alcatrax was surprised. "Father? What are you doing here?" she asked, beyond confused and surprised to see Maximus and his griffin land in the courtyard. Maximus chuckled, putting his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "You shall see soon, my daughter. Tis a happy day," he said with a bright smile before walking inside. She was just stunned, turning to look at her father's griffin, who raised its wings in a 'I don't know either' fashion.

"You are being oddly illusive, father," (Y/N) said, jogging to catch up with him. "I am not. Can I not be happy to see my daughter?" Maximus asked with a smile. "No, however you still have not said why you are here," she stated. He just gave her a mischievous grin, a playful glint in his eyes. "You shall see soon," he chuckled, walking off. She was just left there, beyond confused and surprised. What was her father planning? More importantly, why was he being so secretive?

Then, Rhaenyra approached (Y/N). "My lady, the king is asking for you to be in attendance to the meeting happening today," she said. What is it today with surprises? Why was she being asked to attend a meeting? Had something bad happened? Was that why her father was here? (Y/N) cleared her throat, smoothing down her skirt before heading to the council chambers, her heart pounding against her ribcage. When she entered the council chambers, she noticed her father sat at the table, smiling away. Lords Corlys Velaryon and Otto Hightower were also confused to see the King of Concordia there amongst some other lords of the council. (Y/N) stood near her father, who gave her a reassuring nod. Beside Otto stood Alicent Hightower and Rhaenyra stood off to the side. Alicent glanced at the Princess of Concordia and was praying for good news. She was a woman grown, beautiful and from what she had heard, had a good heart. If this is what she anticipated it to be, she hoped she would be staying out of it. Otto, however, was (metaphorically speaking) on the edge of his seat. Viserys stood. "I have decided to take a new wife," he said. (Y/N) froze. Oh, that. Could this have anything to do with that kiss? No, it couldn't be, right? It was a need the Seven Kingdoms had been awaiting for. But, then why was her father here?

She noticed Viserys glance and Rhaenyra who gave him a reassuring smile and subtle nod. Maximus reached back and held his daughter's hand to ease her nerves and confusion. "I intend to marry..." Viserys began. In the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw Otto smirk a little. Odd. But his eyes looked at her with a hint of distain. She held her breath, as Alicent nervously fiddled with her fingers, her breathing noticeably shallow. "Princess (Y/N) Arcane, before Spring's End," Viserys said. Many things happened in the dead silence that followed. Maximus nodded with a gentle smile, looking at his daughter. Otto and Corlys both looked shocked and even slightly angry. Alicent looked beyond relieved. Rhaenyra smiled at her father. Lords of the court all nodded in agreement and (Y/N), well, she had to take a moment to process these words. Viserys wished to marry her? Her?!

"Excuse me, my lords, your grace," she whispered, leaving briskly, walking away until she was in the gardens and sat on a bench. What the actual fuck?! Sure, she felt something for Viserys. But it all became surreal. She was to become his wife. Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms. Not only that, but bear children for him. It felt like all her future responsibilities for the throne of Concordia vanished and returned with ten times as much weight. "Apologies if I have offended you, my lady," Viserys said, walking up to her after about ten minutes.

She jumped at the sound of his voice as he took a seat beside her. "You haven't offended me, your grace. I am just rather... surprised," she whispered with a weak smile. Viserys gave a small soft smile. "I understand. But, you are the best candidate. You are beautiful, kind and caring. Not only that, you are strong," he said gently, putting a hand on her arm carefully. All (Y/N) did was nod, the news still quite a shock to her. "And, I fear I would be a fool to dismiss you. When my heart beats so fast when you are near. I cannot forget the way your lips felt upon mine," he whispered, gently stroking her jaw. She took a quick breath. She would be lying if she said she hadn't felt the same. But, could she do it? Could she be a queen and mother? It seems fate may take a different turn for our dear king and the land of Westeros. What shall we make of it? Only time will tell...

******

Sorry it took so long to post, I had a bit of writers block. But I am back and ready once again. I am still thinking of the plot as it progresses, so please bear that in mind. Now, question time: Should I or should I not write a smut? I don't know if I should or if I should just insinuate it. I hope you enjoy this. Sorry if it is a bit short.

[beanieman]

Assigning You A Liminal Space Based On Your Favorite YTTD Character

Sara Chidouin - A classroom where words appear on the chalkboard every half hour. Sometimes they tell of false hints and other times they ask why you came here. There's a knife in the middle desk.

Joe Tazuna - An endless metal tunnel where you can see light at the end. It always glows a different color and you feel like you're getting farther away the longer you walk. You can hear a dog barking beyond the "exit."

Gin Ibushi - An animal shelter that smells like wet dog. In the upper left corner there's a pile of stuffed animal that you can use as a bed. Sometimes they come to life.

Keiji Shinogi - An airport that feels just slightly too humid. Out of the corner of your eye you can see visions of the dead. It's always 3AM.

Alice Yabusame - The hallway of your childhood that's filled with family photos and the smell of something you can't quite place but fills you with nostalgia. No matter how far you walk the path things stay the same.

More Undercut

Reko Yabusame - A mall where a new store opens every hour. It's never similar to one that you've seen before. It looks like light is streaming from somewhere, but you can't see any windows or doors. The bitter smell lingers in the air.

Nao Egokoro - A train where little snacks and drinks are sat upon the table. You aren't sure where you're going, but it seems like you have a destination. It's a little too cold but there's a blanket under one of the seats.

Kazumi Mishima - The room is totally empty expect for chalk on the floor. The walls are chalkboards so you can draw or write your thoughts. Too bad you can't do anything else.

Q-taro Burgerberg - An empty stadium that's closed off from overhead. You hear cheers and boos from an audience you not see as if you're the only one invisible. There's a popcorn and slushy maker at the top bleacher.

Kai Satou - A grocery store that smells oddly like plastic and seems to restock itself. You haven't seen any employees, but you feel like they're in the vicinity.

Kanna Kizuchi - An endless hallway where flowers grow up to your knees. Sometimes it feels like they're wrapping around your ankles and trying to drag you down, but you can pull them off with enough might. Some flowers smell like pudding, and the others smell like metal.

Shin Tsukimi - A convivence store filled with neon lights where the air is thick and it feels hard to breath. Exits sometimes appear only to disappear right before you reach them.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - A doorway with a black void at both sides. No matter which way you go or how far you run you'll always end up back in the same place.

Naomichi Kurumada - An indoor pool where the smell of chlorine hits your nose and makes you dizzy. There's floats for you to lounge on if you get tired, along with dive rings if you're up for a challenge. Just don't go too far down or you might think you've found an exit and won your escape...

Anzu Kinashi - A circus tent that's one big circle. Music played by horns and trumpets ring in your ears and you can vaguely taste the flavor of cotton candy. A clown is watching you but you'll never know as he always disappears before you turn around.

Mai Tsurugi - A bakery that only has one small lamp by the counter. There's a tip jar that shows you an exit if you put in enough coins, but it vanishes just as fast as it appeared. This is a metaphor for capitalism.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - A library that makes you forget your name and where you came from. You aren't sure which books you've read and which you've forgotten. There's a papercut on your finger. You aren't sure how you got it.

Hinako Mishuku - The place is indistinguishable. You don't know where you are or how you got here. It's dark and none of your scents work properly. All you can wonder is if you're actually dead. You know it's some kind of room because every once in awhile you run into a wall. You didn't know you were in a room.

[therainscene]

Ah, the age-old question: is Vecna really the puppet master, or is all that string imagery proof that he was the puppet all along?

This question is always framed in terms of who is really manipulating whom, and even interpretations which see him and the Mind Flayer as a team tend to assume there’s going to be an inevitable betrayal in which one will rise as The Ultimate Big Bad.

But personally, I don’t see it that way; I think they have a more symbiotic relationship than that.

To see why, let’s take a look at another villain from the show:

Jason is a charismatic leader who knows how to rally groups into action, and this skill allows him to amplify his personal mistrust of outcasts like Eddie into a full-blown, town-wide witch hunt.

By the end of S4, the hysteria he whipped up has gained so much momentum that not even his nor Eddie’s death can stop it. The Hawkins Satanic Panic becomes something greater and more powerful than himself -- but crucially, it also could not have existed without him in the first place.

The Mind Flayer is much like Hawkins: not a single entity, but a collection of them. It was a formless cloud of particles before Henry got his slimy mitts on it, and the show has strongly hinted that these particles are the mechanism by which the Upside Down’s hive mind exists.

So Henry can be thought of as the charismatic leader of the hive mind. His ideas are the ones that drive the mind’s actions, but like Jason, that doesn’t necessarily make him a puppet master -- more of an inspiration. I don’t think the hive mind had any inherent agenda of its own before he came along, much as the people of Hawkins didn’t have an agenda beyond simply existing before Jason gave them a misguided cause to rally around.

This is the true horror of the Mind Flayer: it’s a reflection of how easily bigoted attitudes can become entrenched in a society of well-meaning individuals, and how overwhelmingly difficult it is to resist those attitudes when you’re targeted by them.

But conformity isn’t the only theme being reflected here. To complete our understanding of the bond between Vecna and the Mind Flayer, let’s turn our attention to one more villain:

Billy is a survivor of abuse whose anger led to a sense of entitlement to abuse others in turn. It’s classic cycle of abuse stuff, and very similar to Henry’s backstory.

But where Billy differs from Henry is that he seems to be aware that what he’s doing is wrong. Not that this helps much -- the best idea he can come up with to mitigate harm is to beg his victim for compassion, which is a great way to assuage his guilt, not such a great way to mend the damage he’s done to her.

I think it’s significant that Vecna and the Mind Flayer are used as metaphors for Billy’s urge to perpetuate the cycle of abuse, as their relationship is a very cyclical one:

Henry was abused, which led to the creation of the Mind Flayer, which led to Henry abusing Billy, which led to the creation of the fleshy Spider Monster--

Billy attempted to stop the cycle here, but as with the sauna plea, his efforts were dead in the water and the cycle continued:

--Max developed survivor’s guilt, which led to Henry abusing her, which led to her death, which led to Henry having free reign to continue abusing to his rotten little heart’s content.

This reflects not only the abuse that occurs between individuals, but also abuse on a society-wide level: bigoted societal attitudes beget internalized attitudes, which in turn lead to behaviours that perpetuate the original societal attitudes.

To me, a more interesting question than “which one is the real Big Bad?” is “how will our heroes stop the cycle?”

In real life, bigotry is defeated when outcasts and their allies band together and forge their own movements to spread messages of truth and positivity.

So I think it’s interesting that our core trio of protagonists consists of a charismatic leader who never wields his skill selfishly...

...and a powerful pair of survivors who are too full of love and kindness to perpetuate their own cycles of abuse.

[yangzhouman]

long post about batman beyond because i have feelings

batman beyond is so damn bleak in the obvious ways and yet it goes all the way thru. like it initially positions itself as a story about how “keeping it in the family” just ends up with dead family members and the only way out of being eaten by generational trauma is to abandon the family structure. what bruce and terry have at the start is loose and resistant to definition even when others try (”your keeper’s here” and “who else could take care of his affairs? he has no wife, no children.” / “me. i could do it.” / ) and when they (meaning terry and bruce) eventually label it as an employer/employee kinda thing it feels fresh. 

when you’re the best man for the job you can call your boss a bitch. and he’s not gonna be in your living room at the end of a stressful day. there’s distance. there’s employee rights. they both care deeply about their job and eventually about each other but there’s no guilt when the job gets in the way, because there’s nothing for it to get in the way of -- their relationship IS batman.

it feels un-familial EVEN WHEN the family metaphor gets pushed onto them. it’s important that bruce isn’t terry’s father; terry has a father that he loves, and bruce needs to come to terms with a more impersonal, wider guilt of being an ageing bat in a city that will never stop needing batman. when others do try to conceptualise whats going on with terry and bruce thru a family lens, it jars because that straight up isn’t the connection they have, and people can tell -- they’re just missing the context of both being batman.

it’s good! it’s really good! it turns batman on its head by looking at it as an ideological gap that people can slip into, rather than something that is handed down, man to boy, with a clear lineage and direction -- now it’s an analytical framework of vigilantism that is open to all who feel brave. widening batman up like this makes barbara’s relationship with bruce & batman a little more complex too, as she is distinctly not a wayne and does not see bruce as her father, but still stepped into a sort of shadow/partner role to the big bat (misogyny... she’s proto-terry in the context of batman beyond but why does terry get to be more? questions i know the answer to.)

imo batman beyond, when at its best, makes batman a possibility: a nebulous idea that centres around gotham and righteousness rather than an individual and his grief. it’s a way out for bruce in particular, who calls himself batman in his own head but has to come to terms with a new bat who has no debt with him in any way -- and he grows in that safe relationship. as an old man! he grows!

and then. and then. oh my god. oh my godddd dc falls to its old ways and terry becomes bruce’s biological son? he gets narutofied*? it is single-handedly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. there is no escape! batman is bruce wayne and can only be bruce wayne. it/he is a trap that absorbs anyone who comes near! batfam is a curse that infects and infects! i am putting up with it because i like batman beyond so much even with this. but god. what a letdown what a needless twist in a universe that already has MANY cloning stories and MANYYYYY biological heir stories

*this refers to uzumaki naruto from NARUTO who starts as a nameless orphan in a hostile world, but then discovers that he is actually the son of two very important people, which stands in opposition to the earlier story beats and makes him special in a way that i find very gross, as it cheapens the work that he has done as a character-in-story to carve out a place for himself in the narrative world, and shows a lack of commitment on the author’s part to challenging storytelling by relying on the tired shonen tropes of bloodline rights and inherited power as proof of character significance

[justfangirlstuffs]

Now Until Forever

@saranootnoot So, Tumblr was a jerk and ate the ask you sent, so I'm posting it this way. Merry Christmas. (Note: this y/n is different from the one in EYEM)

You x vampire!Eclipse

You were done for. There was no way you were going to survive. You could almost feel your body going into shock. You hadn't expected to get violently mugged and left for dead, but then things like this usually happen when you least expect them, don't they? Now it was all you could do just to cling desperately to life wishing you could push some kind of redo button to prevent this.

It didn't seem fair. You'd just been living your life. Just existing. You hadn't been hurting anyone. Not significantly at least. You thought yourself a good and decent person. So, why was this happening to you? Were you being punished for something? Maybe someone or something had it out for you. Or maybe it was just all random chaos and you had rolled bad on the dice of life.

Sadness and regret washed over you. So many things you wouldn't get to do so many opportunities lost. You tried not to think that your life was wasted but you wondered if there was something you could have done to spend it more wisely. What scared you most was the idea of slipping away with no one there to ease your fears. You didn't want to die alone or at least you would have killed for some company in your last moments. Any company at all.

Somewhere in the cosmos your wish must have been heard, because you suddenly got the very real sense that you weren't alone. Your body gave a shudder that had nothing to do with the fact that you were losing way too much blood.

“I thought I caught the scent of death approaching.” A deep rich voice washed over you and it was both the most beautiful and the most soul quaking voice you had ever heard.

You looked up to see a towering figure that couldn't possibly have been human. A dark, round face surrounded by sunrays, burning amber eyes, and smile that set off an internal battle of wanting to pull closer and shrink away. This wasn't exactly what you had in mind for company, but at this point you weren't about to be choosy. What more could they do to you, after all? You opened your mouth to speak, to at least ask who they were, but all that left you was a weak groan.

The glowing eyes surveyed you. “You poor thing,” the voice crooned as the figure knelt over you. You found yourself absolutely eclipsed by his size. “You're not long for this world.”

Tell me something I don't know, you thought. The closer you were dragged to the end, the more you felt your metaphorical nails dragging along the concrete, desperate to delay the inevitable. It was a chore just o keep your head up at this point.

Thankfully, your newfound company was willing to help in that regard. Fingers brushed over your skin, cool and just as inhuman as the rest of them, as your head was held steady. “Do you want me to save you?” the stranger asked.

You stared at them in disbelief. Save you? Weren't you beyond saving at this point? Maybe if they'd found you sooner... As much as you wanted to believe, there was just no way. And yet, the very fact he was offering sparked hope within you.

“I can stop you from passing through death's door,” the figure said in alluring promise. “However, my service comes with a price. Pledge to serve me and I shall grant you life anew, a fresh chapter. Or stay here and let your story come to a close.”

You weren't sure what to make of this, and the continuous loss of blood was making it harder to think. There was a split second where your mind thought perhaps this wasn't the best idea. One of those things that sounded too good to be true, and who knew what 'serving' this person meant. However, the more raw and carnal part of you wanted to cling to life. This was your last chance, the final decision. If this is what it took, then you would gladly take the deal.

Summoning all your strength, you managed to wheeze out a single word. “Please.”

The smile lengthened and you saw a flash of sharp fangs. “There's a good little bird.”

You don't remember what all came next. You only remember arms picking up your limp body and carrying you to an unknown destination.

---

You awoke disoriented and confused. You weren't in your own bed like you were supposed to be. Instead, you were in a strange bed, in a strange room. Granted, a much nicer room than what you were used to. You tried to think back on what could have possibly led you to this strange place. Flashes of violence pervaded your mind, and you distinctly remembered the pain, the fear, the very real sense of the life leaving your body. Then someone showed up with the promise of saving you. Burning eyes that seemed to sear your core from within your mind's eye. Your knees wobbled and you had to steady yourself against the bed. Looking down at yourself, your clothes were different; clean and far better tailored than your usual attire. There was no trance of blood or filth on you. None of your old possessions were on you or nearby from the looks of things.

You needed to figure where you were. Find a phone. You exited the room and only just then noticed how dark it was. Must be the dead of night, yet you were able to see perfectly fine. Weird. You also felt strangely okay for someone who'd been bleeding out what felt like only moments before. How long have you been here? Were your family and friends worried about you? Suddenly a new fear cropped up, would you ever see them again?

“You're finally awake, little bird,” a voice drifted from behind, wrapping around you and causing you to stiffen. You turned to see a very familiar and memorable pair of amber eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked.

A soft chuckle preceded his next words. “Home.”

Maybe it was just the circumstances. Maybe you were still shaken by your experiencing. Maybe you were just so confused because nothing nothing was making sense. Regardless of the reasons, you turned and ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction. Everything around blurred and the wall rushed up to meet you so fast you smacked into it. You reeled for a moment, in a daze, but you recovered and rounded the corner, still running.

It happened again, the world suddenly blurring and snapping back, and you found you had covered an impossible distance. Not that it helped you much. The place was huge, an absolute maze. You had no idea where you were going. No idea if you were getting close to an exit or if you were just running yourself deeper into whatever labyrinth you were trapped in. You only knew that your body felt strange and alien. With every burst of impossible speed, you were getting more and more woozy.

You stopped to hunker down and catch your breath, taking cover behind a pillar. You were shaking and you took deep breaths, rubbing your hands over your face. Why did your skin feel so strange? Why did your teeth feel too big for your mouth?

“Oh, little bird, there's no sense in running.” The voice called out, and you could here footsteps, the rustling of fabric.

You held your breath, keeping very still, your heart seemed to thunder in your ears, but even that couldn't drown out the darkly sweet words that called to you.

“No matter where you go, I will find you.”

An overwhelming ache bloomed within you, and the words were both a horrifying threat and a tantalizing promise. You couldn't begin to parse why you were reacting this way. But you stayed quiet, and you stayed hidden, until the sounds of movement faded. Once quiet had settled, you peeked out from your hiding place and saw nothing and no one.

You breathed out and stood, turning to leave. Only to find yourself face to face with that burning gaze. You reflexively backed away, back slamming against the wall of the pillar.

“Did you enjoy the tour of your new home?” the stranger asked pleasantly, his smile amused.

“Please,” you said, though the following words were lost when he took your chin between his fingers.

“It seems your body took to the transition well. Excellent.”

You weren't sure why, but a bubble of happiness and thrill rose inside you. Suddenly, thoughts of running seemed far away and rather silly. Though, you reflexively tensed when you were grabbed by not one, not two, but four hands. For a moment you were engulfed in darkness so complete you thought you'd be consumed and lost to it forever, but then it cleared and you were back in the room you awoke in. Before you could so much as utter a thought, you were pulled close, flush against a body that was solid and unyielding.

“I mended your broken body,” he purred. “Now it's time for your payment.” Your body quaked within his grasp unable to fight or flee. His mouth lowered to your throat. “I'll start with this.”

A small cry escaped you as pain stabbed your neck. Then your body sagged as the most beautiful feeling in the world rushed over you. Suddenly you were reliving some of the best moments of your life. Moments that, once dulled by time, now shown with bright clarity. Moments when you were at your happiest, when the dark parts of the world were washed away and there was only joy and goodness and laughter. You relived those moments, experiencing every beautiful detail, every sensation. Moments that had been buried under the hardships and mundane of day-to-day life, now unearthed specifically for your pleasure.

Distantly very distantly you were aware of hands holding you, of a pressure at your throat, and of your hands clinging desperately to soft fabric. But those sensations were only secondary to the pure happiness and contentment that you felt. As soon as it had come it was sucked away and you found yourself sobbing into a pair of arms that held you upright.

“There now, little bird. You did well for your first time.”

The words were a soothing balm and you soaked in the praise, finding yourself wanting more of it, wanting desperately to please this person who had given you such an incredible gift. The one who saved you. You barely registered the fact that your legs were jelly, barely holding you upright, and you felt faint.

“Am I... gonna die?” you asked.

“Not without my say.” Hands cradled your face as those eyes burned into yours. “Until then, you'll serve me well, won't you?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“You're mine, from now until your last breath. Don't ever forget that.”

“I won't,” you promised.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I'm yours,” you murmured. “All yours. Forever.”

“Good.” The arms picked you up and placed you down into bed. “Now rest. I'll need you nice and healthy for what I have planned for you.”

You did as you were told and sank into the bed. Your limbs languid and your eyelids heavy. But one question still burned in your mind. “Who are you?”

“My name is Eclipse.” One of the hands that had so firmly held you, now gently stroked over your head. “Though, you can just call me 'master'.”

“Master Eclipse.” The words sounded natural and right as they left your lips.

Distantly you thought about your life and how much you were possibly losing. Yet the feeling of regret was distant and you didn't mourn your old life. Instead, you welcomed your new one. After all, you had a greater purpose now.

[this-is-getting-silly]

I’m going to preface this by saying that I’m not a professional critic or reviewer, and these are just my subjective opinions. There’s no need to get upset that someone on the internet has a different opinion than you.

Now, with that out of the way- I THINK WORM SUCKS

Okay just kidding. It’s good, I like it a lot… but for the most part, I like it despite its protagonist, rather than because of her. And not just because I think the story contorts itself around her in a frustrating way, although it very much does do that. It’s just that, at the end of the day, I don’t think there’s much about her that makes for an interesting viewpoint character.

At the end of the day, what actually motivates Taylor? She starts off wanting to ‘be a hero,’ but gives up on that pretty quickly, yet never really commits to ‘being a villain’ either. It’s not saving the world, either, that’s just basic self-preservation. Her real motivation is simple- protecting her friends, and having them continue to like her. She continues being a villain explicitly for the latter reason (once Coil is dead and Dinah is free there’s no real reason for her to remain a villain other than that), and does most of what she does in service of the former.

Self-preservation and the desire to protect one’s friends are fine primary motivations for a main character… in the right context. For the former, we need only look at Blake from Pact, whose life is in constant danger through pretty much the entire book, so he never gets the chance to develop any goals beyond ‘stay alive,’ and instrumental to that, ‘get stronger.’ That’s fine- it would be weird if Blake was really preoccupied with some other goal considering all that’s happening to him during the events of that story.

Likewise, in the latter case, you have Sylvester from Twig, whose desire to protect his friends is important because their lives are considered expendable, so wanting to protect them motivates him to act proactively and pursue other goals. He even extends his definition of ‘friends’ to basically all experiments, which eventually pushes him to take on the entire Academy and Crown, because he’s got a problem with what they do to his fellow experiments and him. That’s a great motivation for a character! (Twig is the best thing Wildbow has ever written and I hope it never gets a sequel.)

On the other hand, Taylor wanting to protect her friends is a much weaker motivation, because they are almost never in any danger that they didn’t put themselves in. I can’t really cheer for her beating up on Protectorate heroes to save her pals because they chose to take over an entire city. That’s on them. Of course, Taylor is incapable of not perceiving it as unjust persecution, because she has a literal victim complex, and rightfully so, she was a victim for a long time, but not for most of the events of the story itself.

So when it comes down to it, her motivation is basically ‘me and my friends should be able to do whatever we want, and get to kill anybody who tries to stop us.’ Which isn’t an especially compelling motivation from an outside perspective! If she was really driven to be the best parahuman criminal in the city, and supplanting Coil as a crime lord was her plan all along, that would at least be interesting, but she just kind of gets dragged along into everything, and then retroactively justifies it in her mind by deciding the people opposing her are ‘bullies.’

As a consequence of this, Taylor doesn’t really stand for anything, either. She does plenty, but in many ways she’s still basically a passive protagonist, going in whichever direction the flow of the narrative takes her. It just so happens that the narrative flows very quickly, so she never ends up spinning her wheels too long (badly mixing metaphors there, I know), but if things weren’t constantly happening for her to respond to, Taylor really wouldn’t end up doing much on her own.

So- we’ve established why I think Taylor makes for a weak protagonist. Let’s take a look at who I think would make for a compelling replacement.

Number one with a bullet, it’s your boy Theo. I’ve touched on this recently elsewhere, but I want to make a more comprehensive pitch for him now. You might say ‘but isn’t Theo also largely reactive and motivated by self-preservation?’ To a degree, yeah- most of what he does in the story is motivated by not wanting to get killed by Jack Slash. But even if you take Jack out of his story completely, he would still have a more interesting motivation than Taylor. The heroic scion (heh) of a villainous legacy trying to atone for his parents’ misdeeds is a way more interesting story than whatever she has going on. The thing with Jack is just a cherry on top.

(Atonement is a great character motivation in general, which is part of why Rain would have been a far superior protagonist for Ward than Victoria, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.)

Obviously you’d have to rework the story somewhat significantly to make him work as the protagonist, but I think it’s doable. If you wanted to keep things as much the same as possible, you’d probably start with Theo already in the Chicago Wards, and tell the story of how he got there in recurring flashbacks. Taylor could also still be in the story, I actually kind of think she’d work better as a supporting character (as long as you got rid of some of the truly ridiculous shit she did like killing Alexandria). Seeing her training Theo from his perspective would be very interesting, since canon Worm skips pretty much all that stuff.

Next pick: Weld. You might think you’re detecting a theme here, but not so much, actually. Weld’s story is more about him becoming disillusioned with the Protectorate, and even with being a hero in general. But unlike Taylor, who gives up on being a hero roughly three chapters into Worm, that would be a slow arc, starting with him as a true believer, who over the course of the entire story loses his faith and quits to found his own team. It’s worth noting too that the Irregulars weren’t just an independent hero team, but mercenaries, which suggests Weld has soured on the ‘hero’ thing overall.

Plus, Weld has a very solid motivation- finding out who the hell turned him into a Case 53. That’s an actual goal he could pursue over the course of a story and get closure for! We could see his relationship with Sveta actually develop, watch him try to manage the internal tensions of the Irregulars, and go up against Cauldron, which Taylor only really interacts with incidentally until the very end of the story.

Third choice: Faultline. We know a lot less about her than any of the others I’ve named so far- her interlude is so unmemorable I actually forgot it existed before writing this. We never learn her actual name (I’d keep ‘Miss Fitts’ because I like the pun but modern wildbow is a joyless monster so he’d probably change it) or even her trigger event, but I still think she’d make a solid choice. Clearly Wildbow agrees because she was the protagonist in an earlier draft of the story.

Much like Weld, she has a strong motivation in wanting to track down Cauldron, and I think the cast of characters surrounding her is more interesting than the Irregulars, and arguably even the Undersiders themselves.

My next choice is gonna be controversial, but… Armsmaster. Yeah, he starts out as an antagonistic force in Worm, but only because Taylor perceives literally every authority figure in existence as her enemy. His actual story is really compelling, not least because I firmly believe he was framed for the armband thing. That interpretation isn’t canon, but the facts fit, and I think it makes Worm a hundred times more interesting, so I choose to believe it.

So you have a kind of autistic, extremely driven but also somewhat self-involved hero, who gets framed for something he didn’t do, loses everything, and has all the people whose respect he was hoping to earn turn on him. And he comes back from that! Tell me that isn’t a more interesting story than Taylor, who never meaningfully loses a fight or has anything taken from her.

Bonuses for him include: getting to see him fight Leviathan one on one from his perspective, getting a better look at the inner workings of the Protectorate and Guild, giving his relationship with Dragon more development, and seeing a Tinker actually do some tinkering, which is something we’ve basically been completely denied across two books.

And finally, we have the wildcard option: someone else entirely. There are vast swathes of Worm’s world left entirely unexplored, and I’m sure there are plenty of more interesting protagonists hiding somewhere in them. People with more interesting powers, histories, and motivations than the protagonist we actually got. Or Victoria. Goddamn do I wish we got someone other than Victoria for Ward. Rain was right fucking there, hoW DO YOU FUCK THAT UP AAAA

okay that’s it, post over, thanks for reading. bye

[cassatine]

I would love to know your ideas about Daemon/Rhaenyra and their deranged love!

Ongoing manifesto is [here]

that being said idk that’s a bit. too vague and open-ended a question. pls be more specific next time but for now:

They’re the same person in different bodies and they both looked at their mirror self and thought yeah I’d tap that?? And after ten years of separation, ten years of distance from the mirror self, the only one that truly understood them: I’d rather burn the world down I’d rather be feared than live without that again?? Heights of Targ psychosexual fuckery right there!!

They both subscribe to the idea that only dragon people are real people! Targaryen exceptionalism all the way for them. Why do you think even Rhaenyra’s love for Alicent did not translate to understanding or protection or anything beyond ‘love me fear me adore me’.

Not to deny the unhinged romanticism of the “meant to burn together” line but what I’m personally obsessed by is “they will fear what else we might be capable of”, like that’s their thesis statement and political program rolled into one and it’s hot as fuck. Also stupid as fuck, because that program hasn’t worked out that well for any dynasty in the long term, like, ever, but also: better burn together than keep on living a half life. Viserys called them “restless and chaotic” back when he first thought they’d shagged and really, he’d pegged them right. They tried normalcy (as much as feudal people with pet metaphorical nuclear weapons can be normal) and it turned out to suck ass — “happy enough”, says Daemon of his time with Laena (which, ouch), “droll tragedy”, says Rhaenyra of her life, of her years trying to play by the rules (also ouch). And they’d have gone back to it if not for each other — one spousal funeral reunion shag of tenderness and they were like “meant to burn together” never gonna be separated again!! No cost too dear!!

I get that the argument that they’re getting married for political reasons only get people’s hackles up, and lbr it is on the level of saying water is dry, but imo swinging the pendulum to the other extreme (nothing to do with the political at all) isn’t that much better in the end. It is a political partnership. Rhaenyra doesn’t say “with you as my husband and prince consort my claim wouldn’t be so easily challenged” for people to say that she hasn’t taken the political repercussions of a wedding into account. And whether Rhaenyra is really, really crap at maths or whether she’s fudging the numbers because she wants Daemon that bad (it’s the later, of course it’s the later), the fact is that she makes a political argument for their getting married. Sometimes people both want to climb each other and to be a political power couple steamrolling all opposition until everything explodes in their face (better have everything explode in your face than go through life like you’re already dead for one minute longer than needed).

Rhaenyra has it bad for Daemon, but she has it bad for the throne too. If she didn’t she’d cut her losses and they’d move to Pentos or wherever, and she is very much not gonna do that. They love each other insanely, but they love power too.

Laenor is a darling and we love him but by ep7 it’s kinda obvious that while Rhaenyra does like him she’s been disappointed in him as a political partner for a while (ftr it’s understandable that he’s flaky, what with the trauma of what happened re: Joffrey). He gives her the ‘ready to commit now’ speech and for ten years she’d have had to take it even with no way to know whether Laenor would follow up on it, because she had no other option, but alas for him he gives her the speech after Daemon pops up, freshly single, while the situation with Alicent and the Greens hits No Return Point, and Rhaenyra says: actually yes I deserve a husband that supports me, a political partner I can actually trust to look after my interests, one who will kill a bitch for me, and that ain’t you.

She didn’t free Laenor!! It’s not a victory for the gays!! She functionally exiled him because she chose Daemon over him. She told her husband and friend of ten years to fuck off to Essos and never come back and let his family believe him dead because her mirror self was back and it’s her mirror self she wants. Let her and Daemon be selfish on that one instead of dressing it up as a victory for us queers.

Everyone goes on about Rhaenyra having a case of gender, and she sure fucking does, but you know who else does? Fucking Daemon, that’s who. Viserys says he’s the Visenya of the family. He straights up wields Visenya’s sword. He was sent off to Runestone where his wife was in charge, and where all that would have been expected of him was to do the do and bring forth some heirs, which in Westeros is what's expected of women (also he’d obv. have resented being married to a normie and not another Targ, because only dragon people are real people), and being a cursed mix of extreme insecurity and overblown dragon pride he simply couldn’t handle any of it, hence the extremely unhappy wedding with Rhea, but also his tendency to overperform masculinity à la westorosi (violence). And yet he’s gonna fucking kneel to Rhaenyra!!

Daemon is literally going to crown her!! I am the crown (I am the realm) she told Criston and what’s the one title Daemon will take? Protector of the Realm. He’s going to die for her!! Fighting her war!! Just like Rhaenys died fighting Aegon’s war!!

Ok. Look. Wherever canon goes — at the end of the day some people see incestuous legacies fuckery and like clockwork they go, oh the latest generation has to fuck and do it in full ancestors cosplay while insistently calling each other by familial relationship terms, and they have to make it weird for everyone else, and they also have to kill a lot people to maintain their grasp on power, and by some people I mean me.

[cto10121]

R&J Clown Takes Special Edition—Juliet Is the First Dead Girl

The moment this LitHub piece on the Dead Girl Trope popped up on my dashboard, it was love at first sight…love of fresh clownery, that is. What can I say? It was meant to be. Once more onto the breach!!!

…And right away we’re off to a smashing start. Do you smell it, that sizzling meat of clownery in the air? So succulent. Let’s see where this goes.

(But seriously, why do I get the feeling this author would also be one of those R&J-is-really-about-the-feud-and-the-romance-is-secondary people? And then instantly complain about how R&J has too much icky and somehow ~secretly problematic romance?)

The verse fully begins with “Shall I believe” and the following is a romanticization is prompted by a very logical question: “~Why art thou yet so fair?” Romeo is questioning the fact that Juliet is looking very intact for a two days’ old corpse.

Also, allure…Juliet is canonically his true love. Of course he would romanticize her. His whole death is framed as yet another love encounter. This Renaissance cliché is being refashioned for a play about an erotic romance. Also, also, this is Act 5!Romeo we’re talking about, who is literally suicidal.

This author really thought they did something, did they.

So all of this argument misses a crucial component as to why Juliet is fundamentally not the best example of the Dead Girl Trope: As in, she isn’t really dead. She is alive and asleep. A Sleeping Beauty, if you will. Her attractiveness is explicitly justified by the sleeping potion she takes—stopping her heart and breath but also preserving her body in ice.

I suppose the Sleeping Beauty Trope is a close relative to the Dead Girl one, but once again, Shakespeare subverts this too—Juliet isn’t woken by Romeo’s kiss at all. Her potion takes 48 hours, at the end of which she awakens, no matter what.

The Capulets are very patriarchal in their language, of course—that is the whole point, the social commentary of the scene, as well as a meta wink-wink-nudge-nudge. As for the flower metaphor, Romeo never ever compares Juliet with such passive, fundamentally unerotic imagery like her parents and fiancé do. To Romeo Juliet is the sun, a bright angel, his lady—all with connotations of authority. Even his milder metaphors like nyas (baby falcon) and even merchandise (to adventure for) are still tinged with erotic power far beyond that of “flower.” And of course, to cement this dull conventional association, Paris brings Juliet flowers to her tomb.

While the idea of Death taking Juliet sexually is the same, it is expressed and means differently for these two characters. But then, you’ll have to actually have read the play and these lines in context instead of cherry-picking them for your basic media criticism.

[hyprunivers]

Chapter 7: Neutral comrades.

I hop down off my infinity-viewing rock and start down the hill toward the farm below. The hill is pretty steep and gravelly, and I'm trying my best to stealthily sneak down, so the going is relatively slow and deliberate. At least I can use the pointiness of my foot bones to dig in a little! They act like my own little built-in climbing crampons, cleats spiking into the tough incline to give the illusion that I'm more coordinated than I really am. Why do I know what crampons are? So specific!

With so little movement under my belt, I'm not sure how to adequately explain how I know that I'm a little clumsy, but I absolutely know that I'm a little clumsy. Maybe I'll slow down even a tad more.

"Climbin' down the hiiiiiill," sung in whisper, lest my voice carries.

I wouldn't call anything about my descent graceful, but it's effective and mostly quiet. Certainly quiet enough that I don't see any lights come on, so I'm mostly certain that I haven't woken anyone in the nearest house. To be fair, I think I'd have needed to fail pretty spectacularly on my stealth-check in order to wake anyone at about a football field's distance.

I made it! I made it down!

What do I do now?

Start a-wanderin' again, I guess. Time to check out the farm up close. I head slightly away from the nearest house, out to my left, toward what looks to be a mostly harvested cornfield. Some dry stalks remain in the field on the end nearest the house and barn, but beyond that, the field is empty besides the torn-up remnants of the crop that grew there in the preceding weeks. There isn't much to see here, not much left for any night creatures to pick over, but I feel a sort of mild compulsion to check it out nonetheless. Maybe more than a mild compulsion. There's something I'm supposed to see here.

Besides the stalks and the emptiness beyond, there's one obvious feature to the field. There's a scarecrow standing vigilant guard at the head of the corn rows. Not very effective placement if you ask me, but he honestly looks a bit more decorative than functional. He looks clean and friendly, or as clean as being kept outdoors and as friendly as his straw-filled body and cartoonish features allow.

He looks to be about 5'8" in height, actually person-sized. Worn but not ruined jeans on his legs, ending in old rubber boots for his feet, and a classic red and black checked long-sleeve flannel on top. His stuffed burlap head is emblazoned with two big Xs and a huge single-lined smile under a floppy straw hat. Happy, but dead. Could be worse.

I'm drawn to this happy fellow. I feel a kinship with him. I feel like we're wearing similar grins. Is he happy? Am I? I'm not unhappy. Do I have to be one or the other? I don't feel like those need to be default states now that I think about it. Maybe I was assuming they were? I suppose it might be a little strange, should someone ask me how I was feeling, to say "not unhappy, thanks!" But it might be equally odd to just say, "my feelings are neutral, comrade."

"How are we feeling, comrade? Do you know?"

The scarecrow doesn't answer. It's not a small question really, and I don't begrudge him his silence.

I reach out and grip the faded denim of his jeans, the cuff of his left leg in my bony right hand. I rub the fabric between my thumb and index finger, listening to the little sound created by the weave of the fabric being drawn across itself. I look up at his placid, lifeless, smiling face as I close my hand around the straw-filled fullness of his left calf.

"I feel like you and I would have a lot to talk about, comrade. I feel like you and I would be friends."

The sudden electric shock that fills my hand nearly knocks me off my feet and I feel instantly off-balance and slightly woozy.

"WOW!" I shout, unable to contain my (metaphorical) shock at the blast of energy that seems to have just willed itself into being where my hand made contact with the scarecrow's leg. I'm clearly not the only one affected, as a vibration works its way up and down the height of the scarecrow's body, starting at the calf where we touched just a second before.

"WOW!" I say again, significantly more quietly this time, very aware of the noise I just made. I am not nailing sneaking. The scarecrow continues to vibrate slightly as I take a step back. Or, that's not quite right, he's not vibrating. It's almost as if reality is rippling slightly starting from where we touched, but ending at the edges of his form. It's a very strange thing to witness as I wait for my dizziness to pass.

"WOW!!" for the third time, still quiet but equally urgent, as the ripple ends and he returns to being motionless. Motionless for two beats of the heart that I don't have before the scarecrow gives a violent wiggle and a muffled grunt!

"Holy crap, you're alive!" I hiss and hold my open hands up to to my mouth, utterly bewildered. Did I just do this? Did I just do magic?! I don't think the scarecrow was alive before?! But he's alive now?!

This is crazy! This has RAMIFICATIONS.

"Mmmff. MMff! MmmFFff!" the scarecrow quietly shouts, his mouth still only a curved line emblazoned by black permanent marker. He swings his head left and right, tied by the neck to the thick board behind him.

"It's ok, I've got you!" I tell him, as I try to pull down the cross that's holding him aloft. I can't move it in the least, so I just start working at the bonds that hold him in place. "Give me a minute, I have to untie you!"

"Uhnhie ie??" he responds, as I reach up to undo the thick twine around his neck, under his shoulders, his wrists, his waist, knees, and feet. He seems weightier than he looked before, as though there is a structure to him now that was missing only seconds before. I leave the twine around his trunk for last, as it seems like that would be the least uncomfortable way to go about this very awkward process.

As I pull the last knot free, his full weight falls to the ground, still loosely bound to the cross behind him.

"UFF," he exclaims, the air pushed out of him as he lands on his jeans-clad bottom.

"Shh! We have to be quiet, please! Sorry! Are you ok? Sorry! I don't know what to do!"

"Uff!"

He swings his head back and forth, seeming to try to look around, or maybe clear his head. Having gone through a recent spontaneous-aliving myself, I can commiserate.

"Hi! I'm sorry? Are you ok?"

"Uff. Ah hon't oh. Ah han't ee. Pfff."

"Oh! You can't see! Well. Hm. Your eyes are Xs. Can you open them? Somehow? Is that how this works?"

"EHHIS? Ah hie ah EHHIS?"

"Oh no. I'm sorry. I don't know if I did this or not. Maybe I did this wrong?" I'm feeling a little panic now. This is clearly not going nearly as smoothly for my scarecrow friend as it is did me. Hey, a new feeling! Guilt! This one sucks! I am not nailing it!

"Uhn uh. Ah. Uh. Ang awhn."

I'm not really sure if I'm translating accurately, but I'm pretty sure he just needs a minute. He gets a little physically calmer and begins to give himself a pat-down as he remains seated on the ground below his previous hanging spot.

"Huh."

The pat-down pauses and then, horrifically, he begins to rip his head off.

"OH NO!!!!!!" I shout as quietly as I can, my hands to my face, failing magnificently to block out the nightmare before me. I really, really, completely did this wrong. I am bad at magic and if there is magic prison I should be sent there. Magic skeleton prison. That is my new home and I accept that, Your Honor. I regret that I have but one life to give for fucking this up so completely. Never again shall I nail it, as I have beefed it so utterly in this moment.

After a moment more of struggle, the scarecrow finally tears off the straw-filled burlap sack of his smiling head and reveals...

A STRAW-FILLED SKULL?

"Oof. Huff. Pfft," he says, shaking his head, and blowing some straw from his mouth. "That was weird, man! I had a bag on my head! I think I'm filled with straw!"

"HOLY MOLY," I say, my hands slowly lowering from in front of my mouth. I start to stand up straight again, as I realize I had been sort of cowering away from what was before me.

"You've got that right!" he blurts, before stopping and really looking at me. He stares for a moment, and his jaw slowly descends, leaving his mouth wide with shock.

"Buddy?"

"Um," I confidently reply.

"Are you a skeleton?"

[knowlesian]

i’ve had a couple interesting talks over messages about this, so i figure what the hell. i could do with some light(er) writing today.

so: my angle at approaching legit predictions for future seasons of any given show is usually more about general story arc than ‘here’s the exact details or situation’. (if only because i think that’s easier to follow/predict when the writing is good.)

with that in mind, i’ve been trying to figure out what i think is next for ed.

given the end of the finale, picturing ed going full fuck it terrifying is easy. and to some degree, i assume that’s what ed tells himself is about to happen/what he’ll try to live out, but i also would argue this next arc will be more about his sadness and lack of desire to keep the mask up anymore than his anger.

and he is angry: reasons and debating their validity aside, the anger exists.

but we don’t end on ed’s anger, or his violence. we end on him crying and staring at the lighthouse. and given that good writers are usually fairly intentional, i think that’s meant to be a guiding light. (bad pun not apologized for and intended, etc.)

i think it’s also worth considering the horrible choices ed makes from a more galaxy brained perspective, just to see what the fuck is going on there in terms of ‘why ed, why? why’d you do it?’.

so, toe first since it’s the easiest; they set that up with ‘cutting off toes for a laugh’ in e9. ed set up a ship culture where you cut off somebody’s toe and force them to eat it not as an act of supreme punishment or anger, but for shits and giggles. (look. when i say stede comes from a culture of violence too, i’m not denying the violence of ed’s world is easier to spot. fuckin... ew???? ew, ew ew ew ew. ew.

...and his feet were probably so DIRTY okay. okay i’m done. ew, though.)

now, my subjective read on that moment has a lot to do with the way the writers set this up; absent that line from ed giving us the context we need about how he and izzy rolled before we met them, the toe moment is like ‘well obviously this is wanton cruelty and not a regular-ish joke we pirates like to play’. because duh, that’s how any normal and even VAGUELY healthy human would take such a moment happening to them. and morally it... remains that, because jesus fuck ed i know izzy was a dick but fun fact, you did not have to respond with metaphor toe sex/communion! weird! bad! again: dirty feet! that one is more aesthetics and less morality but i remain horrified by both!

‘is it better or worse to be forced to eat your own toe if it smells of roses and not stinky feet’ considerations aside, if we factor in what ed tells us about the funhouse mirror logic of a ship where you have to put down your dog and might end up eating a toe and those are things people just... accept, what he’s doing there is showing izzy (with oomph!) that okay fine, message taken. we are back to business as usual.

(i also think he’s pissed off at izzy and almost certainly that’s a factor in there since we humans are complicated and tend to have a million internal reasons all jostling for position when we make choices, but the context is there for a reason.)

why he shoves lucius is like... again a million reasons i won’t even begin to tease out since they’re all connecting dots and not as easy as just referencing the context. same with ‘why frenchie and jim?’ (though for reference my easy answer to both is: Reasons, many of them thematic and in-world emotional.) 

in terms of what that means for his arc, i think the fact that he doesn’t actually kill lucius matters. because ed’s first moment of being the kraken was very, very actively killing his father, like killing him beyond even the eensiest shadow of a doubt dead. lucius just gets a shove overboard and left to die, murder doesn’t count if you can say NOT IT before they die style like ed’s been doing for years.

which isn’t to excuse ed or mitigate the fact that no matter how we try to divine the internal character ratio on how much ed really wanted lucius to die and how much he felt like this was the only call to make (much like e6 when he was trying to tell himself to just do the fuckin’ thing and kill stede, before the crew became the kraken and it drove him into the bathtub and to confess his sins instead) it’s sort of something we can all wrangle over forever. but he could have used that giant rope dangling conspicuously nearby to do to lucius exactly what he did to his father.

a conscious choice was made there. honestly, same goes with the rest of the crew. he could have demanded izzy/ivan/fang kill them, he could have killed them all himself, and instead he leaves them on a tiny ass island with very little hope of escape.

in terms of the only good choices he makes during this part of the finale... ooof, ed. not great. many notes. all the same i think the choices made to go for his old avoiding direct killing and hiding it method with the crew and having the in-world means to recreate the first time he became the kraken with lucius and simply pushing him into the water (...yeeeeah he pushed his father’s body into the water afterwards in an attempt to hide what happened, didn’t he) indicates where ed’s headed, as well as where he’s at when he makes those bad choices.

tldr: i think we are definitely going to get ‘I DO NOT CARE, THIS IS FINE I AM NOT SLOWLY DYING INSIDE, NOW WATCH ME BURN SHIT’ angry mask-on ed, but i also think we are going to see a lot more of sad being honest about how he feels when he’s alone (at the very least) ed than his initial set of horrific choices would lead us to think. 

[meirimerens]

7 and 8 for the ask meme.... If. they have not been asked yet.....

[booming voice] welcome to my dark twisted mind

7. any ideas for how farkhad’s earlier projects could have looked like?

i think his previous body of work had a focus on architecture, on sculpture, and on paper¹ (gesture) Stuff, with quite a lot of works focusing on the physicality of paper (which feeds back into sculpture), including a lot of embossing. i know he's fond of the multi-tons printing presses, and to see how dry and wet paper react to being laid upon a printing matrix and then put through the crushing printing process (this is what he did to the twins. in a way. multiple tons of pressure and now the matrixes of them are embossed of his shape... i'm getting off-topic). architecture-wise, since his cathedral as a deep Gothic flair, i think he not only studied religious architecture (Gothic as in European 12th -16th century style) but implemented it, or parts of it, in his #designs: religious edifices are possibly historically The poster buildings for something "imbued with a soul": the soul of god and of faith itself... he used some of that. i think he knows of the history of Gothic edifices as deeply colorful, so i think he also worked and played with colors, but mostly as light(s)... kinda like. Marinella Pirelli's colorful cubes, but it was the 1910s (or the 1900s, or the 1890s, or the 1880s, of the 1700s. etc). this is how the Cathedral ended up with her deep red windows (i do not think they are simply stained glass. but something freakier. smirk emoji [cannot elaborate]). of sculpture, he began with a focus on the human body (classically trained), then the human body in relation to buildings (made basically mannequins to gauge size of his structures), then it got weirder. i think he could work with something like Louise Bourgeois' "Maman", but instead of a figurative spider, it is built shaped and experienced like a building. you just have to see it.

¹ i have this because of peter's line in the haruspex route "yeah, you're that salesman who used to sell me excellent drawing paper… You used to cut it wrong though… You started from the wrong end. I thought you were dead though? My brother killed you…" farkhad has never been a salesman. but he did have excellent drawing paper. in my mind's eye multiple characters/people have melted into a single, vaguer memory in peter's head, and the memory he has of farkhad permeates multiple instances of people he killed, got killed, didn't touch,... many such cases

8. what does the key with no lock mean to peter and andrey?

i ♥ key with no lock i ♥ thinking about key with no lock and i ♥ that i don't have any definitive answer, maybe because i don't want one, and maybe even because i don't think the twins have one. i think it is their metaphorical tell-tale heart. they know it's here. they know why it got here (a murder) (it is linked to farkhad). but they don't know how it got here. i don't think they know why a key. but they know they have to keep it. they know they have to keep it and, in the spirit of Buildings being the bond that unites all three of them (peter, andrey, farkhad), it is a key, that might unlock a Building, that binds them beyond death. it is in peter's care, unless he dies: i think it is a representation of a guilt made tangible. made prehensible. made so every lock appear like it could be the one, every door every drawer could blow the lid right off. keeping the key means you keep the secret, and the secret-keeping place or thing closed; but that means there is a lock. or is there? this makes the threat even more heady. haunting. it is guilt made tangible. when peter, he who was bearing most of it alive, dies, the guilt made tangible gets into andrey's hands, who before that lived better with it, because he's killed more, and is more used to killing. they will spend their lives wondering what the key opens, and if it opens anything, they better keep it close to themselves. the key "reflects light at odd angles" in the same was the heart beats under the floorboard: the body was dismembered to be stuffed under the boards, so it shouldn't do that. but it does.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR QUASTION 🫂

question me once more

[variousqueerthings]

cool, so did just watch heaven sent, aware that I was going in with some biases (as written out in a long post I kept in my drafts), and yeah it's a good episode, but I definitely think the biases in question stop me from being able to enjoy it Simply As at this point in time. maybe in future when I've rolled twelve's era around in my brain a bit, because I find it much more complicated to rate than eleven's on the whole

what's really good about it of course is that peter capaldi is a fantastic actor, because it all rests on peter capaldi being a fantastic actor, and the setting and energy of it is great. the melancholy, the despair, the lowkey anxiety the whole time -- and of course the music, the music is carrying so much of this episode! I also really like that it ties back into the confession dial (the clue of which is actually given to us in the episode itself, in that the doctor has to confess in order to not die)

bit of kvetching, but actually not so much I think:

I cannot help but see the various m*ffat-isms inherent in it, which in this episode if it were its own thing in another showrunner's era, wouldn't be irritating to me, because they'd balance it out with other Stuff -- the main one is that he's clearly always been much more interested in the doctor versus the companions so it's essentially a long look into various facets of the doctor's mind, after a season where I've felt like Clara might as well not be in most of the episodes for all she moves the plot or is emotionally changed throughout. Clara in some ways is doing in this episode exactly what she's been doing in any other episode and she's dead! she's a figment of the Doctor's mind as he talks to himself and imagines her asking questions!

it's also doing more prophecy, which at least has been hinted at since the beginning of the season (the Hybrid), but ohhh am I tired of m*ffat and prophecies, I wish this episode didn't - in the end - hinge on some kind of prophecy and could stand on its own

there's a lot that's quite unexplained, but I'm willing to see if that's given a bit more in the next episode. how the doctor got into the dial in the first place, what the creature was, why the confessions, why it was structured like that, etc. I'm thinking that'll still come up -- do note that if every past doctor left wet clothes on the wrack to dry, then presumably the first time this happened, that doctor just ran around nude afterwards?

I'm not really bothered one way or another by it being a billion+ years, I did vaguely remember that there was something about that and it ties in quite well on the grand metaphorical scheme of things vis a vis this era, of the doctor constantly pushing themself beyond their limit and totally disregarding their own pain, so the idea that they'd go through the same set of painful actions again and again for billions of years makes sense for this era, and there's questions in there of whether the doctor physically remembers that or just sets it aside, if those billions of years "count" for them or or or etc. is that, for example, part of what fourteen is working through on top of all the other things that lead into fifteen coming into being?

so in the end, good episode -- definitely thinking a looot more about how I feel about it because it's rated so highly, which is kind of a curse it has on it now I've realised. also because swelling m*ffat's ego like that can't be healthy for anyone, and don't think a single good episode in one good season out of five makes me think you're a good showrunner or writer (unless incredibly curbed by writing for someone else)

I'll definitely still put s9 through the rating's system I've got, but I let myself wait for a bit to see how the structure of it came together. might watch hell bent to round off this story (am also btw shocked that part one of a two-parter is rated like that, I'd never be able to see them apart from each other. two-parters belong together in my brain)

I think in the end what was interesting about this episode is noting what one can let go of and what one can't. while watching the recent rtd specials I saw people who were unable to let go of things that I quite readily accepted and worked with (bi-regeneration, fourteen looking like ten, etc), critiqued as something I hope will become deeper in future but isn't a dealbreaker for me (extrajudicial paramilitary force UNIT, will martha jones get closure (but also martha jones in a fifteen episode tho)), or -- once or twice -- simply went "not this," and moved on from ("male presenting") (actually my main hangup of the specials was that fourteen should have regenerated in thirteen's clothes)

with m*ffat I always have a much harder time doing that, because I simply haven't got a lot of faith in him as a showrunner or a writer that's going to give decent pay-off in the end because I know from experience that he frequently does not give decent pay-off in the end he is famous for sucking at that, and his recurring quirks that I don't like become really irksome as consequence

this not to say I didn't like this episode -- I really did. but I assume I'll like it a lot more when I can structure twelve's era in a way that I enjoy more than I have done parts of it, so that the emotional core lands more strongly than it could do at present time. I also would never call an episode that is solely about the doctor "the best episode of all time." that focus will always be too self-indulgent, ungrounded, and to the left of what I personally like in the show, I imagine

but, yeah, I could happily watch peter capaldi monologuing for hours of course I could

[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 24: Taken

Sam sat in Stiles' car as he took her to the school. Lydia went missing again.

"That girl can never stay in one place…", Sam muttered to her best friend.

"She ended up somewhere. What if it's a dead body?", he asked. 

They quickly arrived at the school. "Where is she?", Stiles called as they got out of the car.

"Over here.", Allison replied as the two rushed up to her. Lydia was beside her, a dazed look on her face.

"What happened?", Sam asked. "It's the same thing. Same thing as the pool. I got into the car heading somewhere totally different and ended up here. And you told me to call you if you found a dead body.", Lydia told Stiles.

"You found a dead body?", Stiles exclaimed.

"Not yet.", Lydia said. 

"What do you mean not yet?", Sam asked in confusion.

"Lydia, you're supposed to call us after you find the dead body!", Stiles fussed.

"Oh no, I'm not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on.", Lydia responded, shaking her head.

"We're not the ones finding the dead body! It's always you! We don't have special weird connections to the dead!", Stiles complained.

"Guys! I found the dead body!", Scott shut them down as they followed his gaze. Hanging over the 'Beacon Hills High School' sign was the body of the victim.

The stone of the sign was covered in the blood of the victim, who was wearing a police uniform. Stiles and Sam's eyes as they muttered simultaneously, realizing who it was. "Tara."

Hours later, the school was flooded with police. Stiles was speechless to say the least. Tara had been a family friend of Stiles.

Sam only encountered her every now and then when they were in middle school. She helped them with homework whenever things got hard. She had been Sheriff Stilinski's partner for a few years now. Now she's dead.

The school itself seemed to be a radar for death. Sam tuned in and out Ms. Blake's English lesson. Sam was suspicious of even more now. Why haven't she said anything about the recent issues? What was she gaining from this? Why she continued on as if she didn't see what she saw was beyond Sam.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors and similes. All tools the writer uses to tell their story.", Ms. Blake droned on. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents.", she complimented Lydia's drawing.

Lydia's been drawing the same exact tree every day lately. It was starting to be creepy at this point. What did the tree mean?

"You and every guy I've ever dated.", Lydia retorted. Sam snickered and Ms. Blake caught it. "Well, that was an idiom, by the way. Sam, could you give me an example of a metaphor?"

Sam glanced at her, boredly. "Raining cats and dogs, heart of snow, you're the eyelash in my eye–"

She cut Sam off. "Thank you, Samantha.", she said with a smile. "Idioms are something like a secret to the people who know the language or the culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you only know the key words. Like saying jump the gun is meaningful only if you know about the starting gun in a race. Or a phrase like seeing the whole board."

"Chess.", Stiles mumbled.

"That's right, Stiles. Do you play?", Ms. Blake wondered.

"No, my father does.", Stiles said. "Now, when does an idiom become a cliché?", Ms. Blake walked back to the front of the class.

"I think I can get to Ethan. And I'm pretty sure I can make him talk.", Scott leaned over and told Stiles and Sam.

"And how exactly are you gonna separate Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?", Sam asked.

"Wait, hold up, why do you want to talk to him?", Stiles asked Scott.

"The druids are emissaries, right? What if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?", Scott asked, making their eyebrows raise.

"Kinda makes sense, but we're going to have a huge problem getting to Ethan through Aiden. Ever since he'd been back to school, they've been stuck at the hip.", Sam says.

"Already found a way to split them up.", Scott said as he and Stiles both turned around and stared at Lydia.

Lydia caught their gaze and sighed. "What now?"

Sam smiled. "Can you do us a favor?"

After catching Ethan alone in a hallway, the trio stayed with him as Lydia was distracting Aiden.

"Why are you even talking to me? I helped kill your friend. How do you know I'm not going to kill another one?", Ethan asked Scott while looking at Stiles and Sam.

"Is he looking at me? Are you threatening me? I'm going to break off an extra-large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking—" Sam looked at Stiles in shock at his sudden outburst and pulled him away. "Okay, easy!", she says, and looked back at Ethan, apologetically.

She urned to Stiles. "Before you could even get that branch, he'd rip your head off. You want that?", Sam scolded.

"We're talking to you because I know you didn't want to kill Boyd. And I think if something like that happened now you wouldn't do it again.", Scott said.

"I think he'd do it again anyways. He's part of the Alpha pack, that's what they do.", Sam said, letting go of Stiles.

"You don't know what we owe them. Especially Deucalion. We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met them. We weren't Alphas.", Ethan explained. Sam raised her eyebrows. They wasn't expecting that much info. "So, what, you guys were betas?", she asked.

"We were Omegas. In actual wolf packs, Omegas are the scapegoat—the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack.", Ethan corrected.

"So, you and your brother were like the bitches of the pack?", Stiles asked.

"Something like that.", Ethan grumbled. 

"So, what happened?", Scott asked.

"They were killers. I mean people talk about us as monsters, but they were the ones who gave us the reputation. And our Alpha was the worst of them.", Ethan explained.

"Why didn't you guys just fight back? Form Voltron wolf, you know? Kick everyone's ass'.", Stiles asked. 

"We couldn't! We didn't know how to control it back then!", Ethan fussed.

"So, Deucalion taught you.", Sam says.

"Yes, and then we fought. We took down a whole pack, one by one. And by the time we got to our Alpha he was begging for his life! And we tore him apart. Literally.", Ethan confessed.

"What about your emissary? They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?"

"All of them except for Deucalion.", Ethan corrected.

"You mean Morrell?", Scott questioned. Before Ethan could answer, he let out a pained gasp. He clutched his chest and clenched his jaw in pain. The trio looked at each other in confusion.

"What, what's wrong? Are you hurt?", Scott asked him, concerned.

"Not me. My brother." Sam's eyes widened. She told Isaac to step back and if he's not doing anything, and Derek is still resting…

Sam shook her head. He's not gonna come here…

Cora would though.

Sam quickly ran down the stairs and into the locker room.

Lydia was screaming for Aiden to stop as the sound of metal clanking and bones crushing erupted in the room.

She found Cora on the floor in Lydia's arms. But before she could ask what happened, Aiden tackled her to the floor, wolfed out. She kept his fangs away from her neck as he snapped at her. "Get offa me! Get off!", she yelled.

Aiden was ripped off of her, stumbling back against his brother and Scott. "You can't do this!", Ethan yelled at his twin.

"She came at me!", The other twin shouted, angrily pointing at Cora. Stiles came over and kneeled down next to Lydia, Cora and Sam.

"Doesn't matter! Kali gave Derek till the next full moon. You can't touch him." Ethan pointed at Cora. "Or her. Or her!", then at Sam. 

Ethan pulled his brother away and out of the locker room. Cora was groaning in pain, her head gushing with blood.

Sam helped her up as she clutched her head. Sam sat Cora down, grabbed a paper towel, soaked it under some running water, and dabbed the blood off her forehead.

Cora hissed, yanking her head away. "I know it hurts. I know you don't like me, but let me help you anyways.", Sam scolded, and she reluctantly let her clean her up.

"You okay?", Scott asked Sam and Cora. Sam frowned. "Do I need to answer?"

"She doesn't look okay.", Lydia said.

"I'll heal.", Cora told them. She tossed the bloody paper towel into the sink and stumbled back, Scott and Stiles getting her back on her feet once more.

"I said I'm fine.", Cora growled. "Do you realize how suicidal-ly crazy that was? What were you thinking going after them?", Stiles asked.

"I did it for Boyd!", Cora yelled. "None of you were doing anything."

"We're trying.", Scott assured.

"And you're failing. You're just a bunch of stupid teenagers running around thinking you can stop people from getting killed. All you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies.", she argued.

"Cora, you're a teenager yourself and you got put on your ass by a stupid teenager.", Sam said, pointing a hand to the alpha twin. "Not only that, what you just did was a pretty stupid move back there. Had Lydia not been here, or had those twins not been linked, we wouldn't have known what the hell had happened to you. You're not out here trying to stop the sacrifices or dealing with a psycho emissary. We are. We're the ones trying to fix all the problems.", Sam says, stepping up.

"You can't just act on revenge alone. We're just as hurt about Boyd as you are, but we're trying to stop people from being victims to this so no one else will die. You can't do this alone.", Sam told her. Cora glared at her before walking out of the locker room and Sam sighed.

"She's definitely a Hale.", Stiles spoke up and left to walk out. "I'll make sure she gets home."

"I'll come with you.", Sam frowned, following him out of the locker room.

Now they were in Stiles' room as he paced in panic. He was considering telling his dad everything now that they know what the pattern is.

Healers. Warriors. Virgins. Philosophers and guardians. His dad was a potential target. Sam couldn't blame him for being nervous. She hadn't even told her mom what was going on.

But if she knew Deaton… there may be a chance. Hell, if she knew what Deaton did and was a part of it in some way, Sam wouldn't know what to do.

Now Stiles struggled to tell what was going on to his dad who stared at Sam and Cora in confusion. 

"Yes! Okay. No, ugh.", Stiles groaned.

"Stiles, words please.", Sam says. Stiles was mumbling, incoherently.

"Stiles!", Sheriff Stilinski called, impatiently.

"Dad, I'm sorry, okay? Just– I'm trying to figure out where to start from here.", Stiles fidgeted with the ends of his plaid button-down.

"Hey! I don't have this kind of time.", his dad yelled.

"Yeah, because you're working on the murders. We know. That's what we're trying to tell you.", Sam says.

"Okay, for the last year you had all the cases that you couldn't figure out, right? All the murders involving Kate Argent and then Matt killing all the people who had drowned him. And, and all these murders right now…it's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own kid and his friends.", Mr. Stilinski shook his head.

"We're not doing a review, though.", Sam says. Stiles rushed over to one of his shelves and grabbed a chessboard.

"See, that's it, dad. The reason you've been losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board." Stiles put the board down on his desk. "We need to show you the whole board." Stiles began setting up the chess pieces with post-it strips. Derek, Scott, and Peter were all black pieces with pink strips. Wolves. 

Chris, Kate, and Allison were all white pieces with purple strips. Hunters.

Jackson was identified with a yellow stripe while Deaton had a blue strip. As for Sam, she had an orange strip with a black piece.

"Last year, during the first murder of the girl that turned out to be Laura Hale, Scott got bit in the woods by an animal when we snuck out."

"You said Scott wasn't there.", Sheriff Stilinski frowned.

"We lied.", Sam says, shamefully. Stiles groaned.

"He turned into a werewolf after a few days. We tried to figure out who killed the girl. We thought that Derek Hale killed his own sister since he's also a werewolf but turns out the Alpha did it. The Alpha's Peter Hale, Derek's uncle."

"Long story short, we were trying to find out who the Alpha was all at the same time Kate Argent was here and trying to kill Derek because she's a werewolf hunter along with the whole Argent family.", Stiles explained.

"The night Peter was planning on biting me, Kate Argent kidnapped Derek and I and held us captive in a cellar. It's what hunters do; they're crazy. But when Scott got us out she shot us.", Sam explained. 

"Deaton healed her because he's some kind of Druid—", Stiles said and took a breath. "And Peter Hale killed Kate Argent because he was killing all those people who started the Hale fire. Then Derek killed Peter. Okay, um, next set of murders—", Stiles looked at the chess board. 

"Jackson wanted the bite from Derek. He gave it to him, but he rejected it. So, he turned into a lizard creature thing called a Kanima and was being controlled by Matt, who was making him kill people as revenge for drowning him. Matt died, I ended up getting powers, Gerard Argent killed him, and Gerard controlled Jackson. We defeated Gerard, then Derek and Peter, who came back from the dead by the way, killed Jackson and he came back to life as a werewolf.", Sam confessed.

"And at the same time Peter Hale was controlling Sam and making her do all this weird crap and made me think she was an Alpha which she isn't but that's done now so they just hate each other. Yeah. Now we've got an Alpha pack running around Beacon Hills and a crazy Darach, which is a Druid that went down the wrong path according to Deaton, running around killing people for sacrifices. And whoever the Darach was ended up slashed up and left for the dead by wolves.", Stiles finally finished with a heavy breath. Sheriff Stilinski blinked a few times.

"Scott and Derek are werewolves?" He raised his brows.

"Yes.", Stiles sighed, believing his father was understanding. 

"And Kate Argent was a werewolf?" He wasn't getting it.

"Hunter. That's purple…hunters.", Stiles fidgeted with the Kate Argent chess piece.

"Along with Allison and her father.", Cora added.

"Yeah. And, my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a Kanima?", his dad asked.

"No, no, no, no, no. He's a Druid. Kay? Well, we think."

"So, who's the Kanima?"

"Jackson.", Sam said.

"No, Jackson's a werewolf."

"Yeah, now. Jackson was a Kanima at first then Peter and Derek killed him, and he came back to life as a werewolf.", Sam explained.

"Since everybody finds it weird, he was dead.", Stiles pursed his lips.

"So, who's a Da-Rack?"

"Darach.", Stiles and Sam corrected. Sheriff Stillinski rubbed his forehead in growing frustration.

"We don't know yet.", Cora answered.

"But he was killed by werewolves."

"Slashed up and left for dead.", Stiles corrected.

"We think.", Cora said.

"Why was Jackson the Kanima?", he asked.

"And that's what you've missed in Beacon Hills the past year.", Sam smiled. Sheriff Stilinski leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Because sometimes the shape that you take reflects the person you are.", Sam says. 

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier by the second father take?", Sheriff Stillinski asked, annoyed. 

"Uh…that would be more of an expression. Like the one you're currently wearing.", Stiles licked his lips.

"Yeah." Sheriff Stilinski got up from the chair and began heading towards the door.

"We're telling the truth!", Sam yelled. "I have powers!", Sam told him, and he turned around, fixing her with a look.

"Dad, dad, dad! I can prove it, okay? She's one of them," Stiles pointed to Cora, "a werewolf!"

"Stiles, Stiles! That's enough!", Sheriff yelled.

"Dad can you please just hold on.", Stiles pleaded. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

 She stood up hesitantly.

"Trust us, please.", Sam pleaded to the older man.

"Alright dad, just watch this. Okay?" His dad's eyes widened as they heard a thud on the floor behind them. Sheriff Stilinski ran past Stiles and Sam, and they turned around to see him crouched over Cora who fainted. 

Cora laid unconscious, the cut on her head bleeding black blood.

Shit.

"Call an ambulance.", Sheriff Stilinski demanded. Sam took out her phone and immediately dialed 911. After Sam explained, Stiles dragged her into the hallway, leaving Sheriff Stilinski to take care of Cora.

"We can't take her to the hospital! She's going to heal and then we'll have more questions to answer.", Stiles whispered, panicked.

"Stiles, she's bleeding black. Something bad's happening. As far as I know, Melissa is the closest person we can trust and rely on. We'll take her to her.", Sam reassured.

She took her notebook as she sat in Cora's hospital room. Cora looked sick, pale and almost lifeless. Just like Lydia.

Sam looked down at her open pages. Five words were written down on it: healers, warriors, guardians, virgins, and philosophers.

As far as she knew, Deaton's a healer, and he was almost sacrificed so that was crossed off the list. Stiles' dad was a potential target, so he was on guardian.

Either she or Stiles had to be on virgins…

Would the warriors be Scott?

Who's the philosopher? 

"What happened?", Derek's voice snapped her out of her thoughts as he rushed into the room. He looked panicked as he caught the sight of his sister.

His shoulders immediately slumped as he went to her side, checking her bandages. He could hear her heartbeat, but it was slow. Why?

"She got in a fight with Aiden at school. Stiles and I took her back to his house and she passed out. She's not healing.", Sam said.

"Why isn't she healing?", Derek asked.

"I don't know. But it can't be because of her fight with Aiden, she should have healed already. Something else is going on.", Sam says, frustrated.

Derek took a seat in the chair next to the bed and took his baby sister's cold, lifeless hand in his.

He squeezed it, pressing his forehead to his clasped hands. watching his baby sister cling to life.

Sam sighed, looking at the notes again. Something's missing. "What's wrong?", Derek asked, noticing Sam's frustration.

"Something doesn't add up. It's confusing…", Sam says, looking over her notes again.

"What is?", he asked.

"The sacrifice pattern.", she says as she tried to piece everything together. "You know the pattern?", Derek sat up.

"Yeah, Allison found it out today and told us–" Sam's eyes widened as she looked back down at her notes. Allison. Hunter. Warrior.

"Sam?", Derek urged.

"It's related to us. The pattern's getting close to us.", Sam says, getting up.

"How?", Derek asked.

"Stiles and I have to be the virgins. Allison's the warrior since she's a hunter. Stiles' dad might be the guardian. Deaton's gone so he has to be the healer. I can't find out who's the philosopher….", she trailed on.

"Lydia.", Sam realized. 

"How is Lydia a philosopher?"

"Philosopher, another word for scholar or thinker. She's always brought up some facts every now and then when it helped us. I just— What if there's something more going on than we know about? What if the Darach's closer to us than we thought? The darach is someone we know.", Sam says. 

"I kinda doubt it. I'm still suspicious as to why people are dying just because she gets a feeling. For all we know, it could be Lydia.", Derek said, bluntly.

Sam shook her head. "Lydia finds the bodies, she doesn't cause the deaths.", she said, and pulled out her phone as she got a call from Stiles.

"Where are you?", Sam asked. 

"I'm with Scott.", Stiles said and Scott cuts in. "The school but that's not important. It's not guardians, not law enforcement. It's philosophers, as in teachers! Allison and her father just found Mr. Westover.", Scott informed.

"That makes sense. Tara wasn't always a cop. She used to teach middle school.", Stiles said over the phone.

"Then the last one's going to be another teacher."

"There's dozens of them, Scott. And they're all headed home.", Stiles said. Sam shook her head. "No, Stiles."

"They're all going to the recital!", Scott exclaimed in realization. 

"So, the three of us are going to go protect three dozen teachers?", Sam asked in disbelief. 

"Sounds like a plan.", Stiles mumbled.

Sam sighed and hung up the phone as Derek's eyes never left her. "The Philosophers are the teachers. Looks like I'm going to your girlfriend's recital.", Sam says, taking her things. Derek frowned. "I have to stay here.", Derek said. 

"I know. We'll be back.", Sam says before leaving. Derek stops her, though. "Sam," Derek called. Sam turned around to face him. "Be careful.", he warned. She gave him a smile and nodded before leaving.

After arriving at the school, Sam and Stiles' jumped out of Stiles' Jeep and rushed inside to where the concert had already started.

Stiles and Sam pushed right through the auditorium doors and found Scott watching the concert.

"Hey.", they whispered, catching his attention.

"Why is Lydia not with you?", Sam asked.

"She was, she went to go talk to Aiden, I think. She's somewhere in here.", Scott said, continuing to watch the performance.

Sam looked around and saw the twins. Lydia wasn't with Aiden and Aiden was with his brother.

Something's wrong. Sam quietly left the auditorium and searched for the redhead.

"Lydia?", Sam whispered, looking around the moonlit hallways. She continued walking until she could hear shuffling coming from a classroom to her right. She turned and looked into the classroom with widened eyes. Sitting, bound to a chair, was an unconscious Lydia. Sam ran in, taking in the sight of her as she tried to pry the girl's restraints apart.

"Lydia, wake up.", Sam tapped her cheeks before trying her restraints again.

"She's not going to wake up." A female voice startled Sam. Sam turned around and saw Ms. Blake standing before her.

"You knew all along, didn't you?", she asked as Sam glared at her. Her eyebrows furrowed as Sam came to the realization.

"You're the darach.", Sam muttered. The prissy, snobby teacher who pretended to be innocent. The woman who pretended to cry over Derek's wounds. She was behind everything.

"How does it feel to be out-powered by your enemy?", she smiled. "You were going to kill her.", Sam growled.

"She's just an inconvenience. Just like you.", Ms. Blake sneered before rushing at Sam and knocking her back against stacked desks and Sam groaned as she fell to the floor.

Through her blurry vision, she could see the woman walk over to Lydia before passing out once more.

Last month

"You knew about him this whole time? That's why you asked me if I was okay?", Lydia asked Sam. The girl nodded. "A little after the beginning of the school year.", Sam confessed as they talked about Jackson.

Her eyes widened. "You've known for that long?"

"We've just been trying to keep people safe…", Sam looked down at her hands. 

"From what?", she asked. Sam looked up at her. "Jackson hasn't said anything to you?"

"He's explained to me what Derek's taught him—about the full moons, the hunger, the claws and all. He told me about how he didn't know he was doing the killings, and he didn't know how he got turned into that lizard thing.", Lydia said.

"Kanima.", Sam corrected.

Lydia gave her a sad smile. "You guys have been through a lot."

Sam nodded and explained everything. From Scott's bite to Kate, to Peter's bite, and Allison's mom trying to kill her and Scott, to the whole thing with Jackson's werewolf transformation.

"She tried killing you.", Lydia frowned at the news of Allison's behavior.

"Yep, so we're not talking at the moment.", Sam says.

Sam even told her about the sudden voices she was hearing after talking about Peter's bite. "Deaton told me I was dying. Throwing up black blood and constantly being weak, that was the bite's doing."

"I didn't go through any of that…", Lydia muttered. 

Sam nodded. "The most they told me was that you were just having an allergic reaction but that was it."

Sam groaned as she woke up to see Lydia was whimpering as Ms. Blake was threatening her.

She smiled at Sam. "We're bite buddies.", she said. Sam chuckled. "Bite buddies. I like that.", she grins.

"It's too bad though, and too late." Ms. Blake started to duct tape Lydia's wrist to the chair. Lydia started crying, and pleading no.

She tried yanking her wrists free but to no avail. Sam got up and used Ms. Blake's shadow to push her away from Lydia, slamming her into the blackboard of the classroom before rushing to free Lydia.

The woman groaned and got up, glaring at Sam behind her long dark hair.

She jumped over the desk, ready to run at her with a knife.

"Drop it!" The voice of Sheriff Stilinski yelled from behind Sam. The girl's eyes widened as she turned to him, but Ms. Blake took that as an opportunity to stab the knife into Sam's side, making her drop in pain.

Before the sheriff could react, a loud roar erupted from the back of the classroom. Scott stood there fully wolfed out, threatening Ms. Blake with a growl. He jumped over desks and started clawing at Ms. Blake, who dodged his attacks. She finally knocked him in the chest and sent him flying back into rows of stacked up chairs.

Stiles came running up to the front door of the classroom and looked in with wide eyes. In a swift motion, Ms. Blake shoved a desk in front of the door with ease, blocking his entrance. 

Sam placed her hand on the floor, pulling at Ms. Blake's shadow as she fell to the floor. Looking back at Sam, she kicked her chest and Sam groaned with a cough as the woman got up. 

"There was a girl…there was a girl. We found her in the woods, her face and body slashed apart. That was you, wasn't it?", he asked, angry.

"Maybe I should have started with philosophers—with knowledge and strategy.", she says. Sam's ears rang as she heard the sheriff's gun pop. He shot the woman's leg and she stumbled but soon steadied.

"Healers…" Ms. Blake lunged for the Sheriff and stabbed the knife in his chest. He cried out in pain as she backed him up against a stack of chairs. "Warriors.", she growled. She snatched the badge on his uniform. "Guardians." She crushed the badge with her bare hands. It dropped to the floor with a quiet clank. "Virgins.", she finished, leaning in for a kiss with the Sheriff.

Stiles pushed the desk away from blocking the door and finally entered the room. He helped Sam up and they ran over to where Ms. Blake and his father were previously standing.

It only took a second to blink as they all saw an ugly, disfigured, pale monster in place of Ms. Blake. She let out a screech before leaving with the sheriff.

Scott made it back to his feet as well, but they were too late. All they were staring at was the sight of broken glass.

"Dad?", Stiles called.

As the trio got settled in Stiles' Jeep, her phone rang. Sam winced as she pulled it out of her pocket and saw my mom's face on the screen. She answered it in a rush, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Hi, mom.", Sam greeted. "Are you with Stiles and Scott? You've been gone all day.", her mother said. Sam nodded, though she couldn't see her. "Y-Yeah, yeah! We went to a recital at school, yeah, we're leaving now.", Sam says, and bit her lip from the pain in her side.

"Okay, just let me know if you're staying at their house–", she heard before she stopped. Sam's eyes widened a bit at the silence.

"Mom?", Sam called. "Hold on, someone's at the door.", she told her. Sam looked at Scott and Stiles as they glanced at her.

Sam heard a crash in her phone's speaker and jumped at the sound. "Mom!? Mom!", Sam exclaimed, calling her mother.

The phone hung up.

Sam could hear the blood pounding through her ears as swallowed, looking at the ended call. Her hand trembled as Stiles looked at her in shock.

The boys quickly took their friend to Derek's loft, rushing in. "Derek! Derek!", Scott called as they entered the loft. "What happened?", Derek rushed into the room.

The boys laid her down on the floor as Sam silently cried. They all looked down at her as Derek examined Sam's wound.

"Ms. Blake.", Sam rasped, groaning. "She's the Darach."

"What?", Derek looked at her in disbelief. Stiles went to go get paper towels.

"She's the Darach. She attacked Lydia, she tried to sacrifice her.", Scott explained.

Stiles came back and pressed the paper towels on her wound. Sam let out a cry of pain, gripping his wrist as he looked at her apologetically. Her body started to hurt all over.

"Then how did she get into it?", Derek asked Scott, gesturing to Sam as he took the paper towels away from Stiles shaky hands, putting pressure on Sam himself.

"I went to look for Lydia. She wasn't with Aiden.", Sam swallowed as Scott looked at her in panic. "Why didn't you say anything!?", he exclaimed, worriedly.

"We don't know! One second, she was at the concert with us the next she was gone. We found her in there.", Scott told him.

Before Sam could explain, she screamed in pain as her head felt like it was gonna explode. Her body felt like it was on fire and felt too sore with every touch. The boys instantly flinched, fidgeting around as they were unsure of what to do.

"What's going on?", Scott yelled.

"I-I don't know!", Derek replied, taking Sam in his arms as she thrashed at his touch. It was too much. Everything burned and hurt. He held her arms in his hands, his veins instantly turning black, but the pain didn't subside.

"Derek, do something! Make it stop!", Scott yelled, covering his ears. "I'm trying!", Derek yelled back, wincing in pain. It was stab wound. It shouldn't have hurt this bad.

The pain started to fade as well as Sam's crying. Her whimpers turned into soft pants as she laid her head into Derek's chest, shutting her eyes.

The boys sighed, but silenced as the werewolves listened for her heartbeat. It was slow. Steady, but worryingly slow.

Derek quickly went to find supplies to clean Sam's wound and dress it. Scott and Stiles couldn't help but sit in silence, feeling the despair of what would come for the sacrifices.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

First Bite

my latest Daniel/Armand fic. Set in the Devil's Minion era. Read it below or here

Daniel flicks on the lights in his hotel room and nearly screams. Sitting on the small chair by the bed is Armand, dressed immaculately and fingers steepled together. “Hello Daniel.”

“Jesus Christ, you trying to give a guy a heart attack?” Daniel says and tosses his keys on the dresser. This isn't the first time Armand has visited, but Daniel can never get used to it. Probably has something to do with Armand chasing him to eventually kill him.

“Your heartbeat is only slightly elevated.”

Daniel grins at Armand and winks at him. “You have that effect, babe.”

It's stupid really, to tease an apex predator. But Daniel is a man of both incredible wit and harrowing stupidity.

“You enjoy flirting with danger.” Armand says it like a statement of fact.

“Yeah, well, you enjoy playing with your food a little too much.” Daniel moves further in the room and glances toward the window. It's the third floor, so he could probably survive the fall. It's hurt like hell though. Still, a viable option if Armand decides to kill him tonight.

“Is that what I'm doing?” Armand says. He seems amused.

“Yeah, man. If you're going to do it, just get it over with.” Daniel doesn't know why he says it. False bravado? Exhaustion? If this is how it ends, he's going down swinging. Metaphorically. He's shit in a fight, but he has one hell of a mouth on him.

The next thing Daniel knows, Armand is pressed along his back and his chin is in his hand. The sharp nails bite into his skin. Armand's mouth is only a breath from his ear. “Is this what you want?” Armand says lowly.

Daniel shivers; he's dreamed of that voice. Dreamed of those teeth in his neck. Only about half of them are nightmares. The others are something else entirely.

He notices that Armand and he are standing in front of the cheap mirror mounted to the wall. He looks at Armand behind him and tries to keep it together. He's never been so scared or so turned out. He's fighting to keep his dick from getting hard, at the same time wondering how he can talk himself out of this.

“I don't want to die,” Daniel confesses. Then, because he's a fool “Does it always hurt?”

Armand laughs. “Would you like to find out?”

Daniel shudders. He feels like he could swoon. “Promise not to kill me?”

“If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already,” Armand says simply. Wait, what? Before Daniel can reply, Armand buries fangs in his neck.

Daniel's entire body jerks. It does hurt, but it also feels fucking brilliant. It burns in a good way, like a shot of good liqueur. His body feels like it's buzzing. The pain fades completely and it's just jolts of pleasure as Armand takes tiny pulls from his throat. Daniel groans, low and dirty and gasps in mortification. He looks up at Armand's face in the mirror, and Armand is looking back at him intensely.

Armand's free hand goes to his pants and unbuttons and unzips his fly. His hand reaches inside and rubs over Daniel's hardened cock through his underwear. Daniel wants to thrust up into the pressure, but the way Armand is holding him, he can't move.

“Touch me, touch me, please. I need to feel you.” Daniel is wanton thing, beyond shame. He is a creature of want and desperation. He's on fire and he can't remember how long he's been burning.

Armand pulls his cock free and begins to jerk him as he drinks deeper. Daniel feels like his legs could give out. It's good, it's so good. Armand's hand is warm and perfect around him. Warm, because of his blood, Daniel realizes. His eyes fall closed and he pants. Daniel moans and tries to thrust his hips. Armand doesn't let him move, but he quickens his pace.

Look at yourself, beautiful boy.

The voice is Armand's, but it comes from inside his head. Daniel obeys without question, as long as Armand keeps doing what he's doing, Daniel will do anything he says. He looks at their reflections is the mirror, Armand's fangs buried in his neck and his hand stripping over his cock. Daniel is flushed and sweating and looks wrecked, while Armand is perfectly composed. Not fair, really.

Daniel meets Armand's eyes in the mirror and Armand twists his wrist, slides a thumb over the head of Daniel's cock and takes a hard pull from his neck. Daniel comes over his hand with a shout, knees caving on him. Only Armand's arms keep him up. Armand removes his fangs from Daniel's neck and tucks him back in his pants.

Daniel collapses back against him and tilts his head against his shoulder. “Holy fuck, that was good. It always like that?”

Armand smiles and presses a kiss to his temple. “It can be.”

Oh. Oh. “Do you mean-”

“You're mine, Daniel. No harm will come to you.”

Daniel's starting to feel drowsy and a little dizzy. The blood loss, he supposes. It's not bad; no worse than the last time he donated blood to get a few bucks. “Thought you wanted to kill me?”

“Not for some time now. I'm surprised you didn't know.”

Daniel's heart surges. “Because you like me?”

“Because I love you, beautiful boy.”

Daniel grins. “Yeah? I love you too.”

[richincolor]

Title: The Undead Truth of Us Author: Britney S. Lewis Genres: Contemporary, Fantasy, Horror (kind of), Romance Pages: 368 Publisher: Disney-Hyperion Review Copy: Electronic provided by publisher via NetGalley Availability: 9 August 2022

Summary: Death was everywhere. They all stared at me, bumping into one another and slowly coming forward.

Sixteen-year-old Zharie Young is absolutely certain her mother morphed into a zombie before her untimely death, but she can't seem to figure out why. Why her mother died, why her aunt doesn't want her around, why all her dreams seem suddenly, hopelessly out of reach. And why, ever since that day, she's been seeing zombies everywhere.

Then Bo moves into her apartment building―tall, skateboard in hand, freckles like stars, and an undeniable charm. Z wants nothing to do with him, but when he transforms into a half zombie right before her eyes, something feels different. He contradicts everything she thought she knew about monsters, and she can't help but wonder if getting to know him might unlock the answers to her mother's death.

As Zharie sifts through what's real and what's magic, she discovers a new truth about the world: Love can literally change you―for good or for dead.

In this surrealist journey of grief, fear, and hope, Britney S. Lewis's debut novel explores love, zombies, and everything in between in an intoxicating amalgam of the real and the fantastic.

Review: [Content warnings: Body horror (multiple and detailed descriptions of rotting zombies).]

If you’re looking for a standard zombie story, THE UNDEAD TRUTH OF US will not be it. If, however, you’re looking for a blending of the mundane and the surreal, consider giving author Britney S. Lewis’s debut a chance. Lewis blurs the borders of Zharie’s reality in more ways than just the undead, from references to Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night to the appearance of speech bubbles to the hyper-detailed descriptions of zombies rotting. The way Lewis describes what Zharie is seeing/experiencing can be mesmerizing, whether that’s someone shift into a zombie, getting swept up in a dance, or experiencing overwhelming grief.

The zombies are Zharie’s metaphor, and she spends most of the novel trying to figure out what they are supposed to mean and why it all started with her mother and her mother’s death. I won’t spoil those revelations, but I will say that I deeply empathized with Zharie trying to make the world make sense. One of the things that THE UNDEAD TRUTH OF US did very well was how Zharie’s grief for her mother rippled out into all facets of her life. It colored her perceptions beyond the zombies, and there are a couple of moments where Zharie is angry that really stuck with me, along with the underlying sense of loss that permeated most of the book. I loved how Lewis portrayed Zharie as she handled (or didn’t handle) the loss of her mother.

Zharie’s developing relationship with Bo was fun to read. I appreciate romances where I really get why the people are becoming interested in each other (occasional slide into zombie-ness notwithstanding). Bo easily could have felt like a grief rebound, but Lewis gave their many scenes together enough depth that I was hopeful about the course their relationship would take, even if the romance didn’t work out in the end.

Recommendation: Get it now, if you’re in the mood for a surreal exploration of grief. Britney S. Lewis’s debut, THE UNDEAD TRUTH OF US, is a thoughtful look at a teenager trying to come to terms with the death of her mother and how to figure out her future. The prose is lovely, and the captivating narration creates depth to the world and the blossoming relationship between Zharie and Bo.

Extras:

Zombie Books Reimagined: Sunflowers, Grief, and the Undead Truth of Us

TOUR SCHEDULE: The Undead Truth of Us