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twiststreet · 3 years

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As a fan of manga (mostly everything Tezuka), I'm intrigued by your comments about One Piece, but my assumption is it HAS to be at least PRETTY GOOD to be as popular as it is and to have run as long as it has. I'd be interested in more detailed posts about it, as well as how you recommend reading it, if you do. On a somewhat related note, today I started reading all of Batman. Planning to go from 1939 to 1999, when I first picked up the comics.

Whoops I wrote a lot; sorry:

I’m 615 chapters in out of 1000 (and in the middle of the Fish-Man Island saga which I think fans rank as either the worst or second-worst arc)(the other worst one, this bad tournament arc, I’ve already gotten past)... so I guess I have a lot to say, but you know, nothing especially original, just...

There’s a stretch (namely, the Water 7 arc all the way through Marineford) that is a hall of fame stretch. He drops like 5-6 arcs that just land perfect right in row (though it’s hard to imagine it ever reaching the heights of the second arc in that series, Ennies Lobby ever again). But that being said, it’s a little funny to tell anyone “Oh it takes 150 chapters to get really good” (that’s at least 2000+ pages of comics) let alone, that the A+ stuff starts 300 chapters in. A chapter of One Piece only takes a minutes or so to read, if that, but it’s still a big ask. People used to get angry if you told them that Deadwood only gets good after 3-4 hours, so...

But that stretch is ... not “life-affirming” but... it touches a very old part of my brain in a very satisfying way.

I had a whole long post I deleted because I thought it was boring, but... when I was into classical American superhero comics, the thing I’d constantly be nerdiest about is that there was this Great Possibility, to do something truly epic in that space which I didn’t think had been done. There’s been a few novels (Watchmen, the Enigma) but not that many. And American superhero comics don’t really have a Lord of the Rings or a Star Wars or, an example for me as a kid even though I hadn’t read all the books was the Gunslinger books (or sure, The Stand if The Stand had maybe a different ending? I don’t know-- I’m not watching the TV show but I don’t really remember that ending fondly). The epic driven by a creator who is creating his own personal mythology, basically. Most of the genre is tied to pre-existing universes which foreclose that as a possibility and people who work outside those universes tend to just make shit like that Peter Cannon thing or Supreme or whatever that comments back on those universes...

Maybe you could argue the Hickman X-Men thing but for me, everyone after Claremont on X-Men is just inheriting so much from Claremont that... It means very little to me. It’s not a personal mythology. Same with Crisis. The closest to me comics came was Kirby with the 4th World, but... Carmine Infantino shut that down. And the Claremont run itself is ... an interesting discussion, but again, Bob Harras. But back before Watchmen 2, back when I thought comics could be this thing that improve over time (haha), I’d look for that (or for any ambition! any!) and just gave up as time went on. The careerist generation came in; the ambitions shrank even further; etc., to where I’m at now where my attitude generally with comics is “that’s nice; who care; so, is your wife dating anyone right now, what’s her story?”

But then One Piece ... One Piece, of all things, becomes this epic thing! And it’s great! I was right that it would be great!!! I was right! (My favorite thing to be!).

Not at first-- at first the formula is “Wacky Pirates go to an Island, they find out something sad is going on in the Island, a character acting extremely emotional causes the biggest fight possible which goes on for 50 chapters, and then they leave the island and maybe take someone with them.” And that’s a lot of big arcs... until little by little, tiny bit by tiny bit, Oda’s built up this world. And then that world starts to become the story. And that’s still kind of the formula but... but then they’re stakes.

The archetypal shonen cliche story is “a boy wants to be the best in the world at something”, right, but what One Piece does (and I haven’t read as much as other people so I don’t know how common this is, I haven’t read Naruto or Bleach, neither of which I’m too excited to check out, though i think david brothers vouches for Bleach heavy so I’ll probably give that one a shot), what One Piece does is sees how that would necessarily become a political struggle eventually. Because what does it mean to be the best in the world at something when there’s an entire world out there already in operation, and built around you not being the best in the world, built around someone else being that...

And then there’s just this amount of worldbuilding that goes on, that is so slowly fed out over those first 300 episodes that you don’t even notice it... Until suddenly around Water 7, these bigger forces have now noticed our wacky pirates, and are shifting around them and getting upset about them. Culminating in this arc called Marineford that ... again not as good as Ennies Lobby but... I don’t think there’s a comparable arc in American comics to Marineford. The scale of that one... The fact he managed to draw that on a weekly basis!

While still being a goofy kid’s pirate comic. It’s funny. The power sets are all really silly, but in a way that reminds of how kids play more than a Dragonball thing. (He takes like 400-500 chapters to even get to a Dragonball-style levelling up concept, which I thought was pretty patient of him). But within that, I’m enjoying it now in a very Claremont way of... there now not just being these scrappy outcast heroes I’m rooting for, but an entire universe of people around them, with their own agendas, that I have varying levels of investment in.

There’s this saying that the Golden Age of science fiction is 12 years old, the idea being that’s the age where stuff lands with you the hardest because it’s all NEW for you. But the thing is if you’re really immature (lifts hand)... I think part of things is you run out of the Good Stuff. I go back and look at old Chris Claremont X-Mens and if I somehow find one I’ve never read before (and this was the lesson of Dazzler in Hollywood for me), I’m still right there, it still lands with me, there just aren’t that many people who can actually land that plane. Once Scorcese is gone, what gangster movies are people going to be watching? Blow? Savages? Kubrick only made the movies he made. People add a little every year, but the really good stuff is rare.

And so when I’m looking at One Piece and I’m enjoying it the way I’d enjoy a Claremont X-men comic (even if aesthetically it’s a VERY different thing-- sexless and not as weirdo-operatic and less violent and more childish and definitely younger-skewing)... but that I’m getting that same thrill of “oh this comic is a portal to this entire fictional universe this guy made up and that kind of exists now thanks to this (kinda disturbing I guess it turns out) guy” to me is... Not “life affirming” that’s not the right word but... It feels good on my brain to know. Because then being sour and grouchy isn’t just me getting older and the inevitability of age-- then it’s just... People need to make better shit!!! Or I need to do a better job not wasting my time on, you know, an industry that’s not built to deliver what I need as a reader...

I mean, I’ve been saying for more than 10 years, I should just quit American comics and just be one of those guys to switch to manga. And I’m not 100% there because... I mean, because of Copra and because of like an extremely small list of things that aren’t Copra. (I just signed for Kate Beaton’s Patreon). But... I’m 95% there, and it’s been great, and I just feel dumb for not having done it earlier.

One Piece has big problems, too. (There’s a whole “Sanji meets drag queens” thing that’s very much not landing with me right now). I don’t think you can ever top Ennies Lobby because Ennies Lobby is about convincing a suicidal person whose been betrayed their whole life that life’s worth fighting for-- there’s never going to be an emotional engine to the story that’s as good as that one. It’s trying to work its way back to a “normal One Piece story” in this Fish arc and it’s... I want to see it level up again! The core cast is just a little too big (it really didn’t need Bones). I think the shonen model generally creates a sort of “power arms race” where it’s like constantly “oh you learned how to crush mountains with your dick in the last arc? Well, too bad our mountains are made of diamonds now” escalations that ... feel a little like a treadmill as opposed to a story. I feel like it needs to kick into a Second Act, after the big ending of that first Act at Marineford. And just... I don’t know how it can keep topping some of these fights, and think it’d get to be diminishing returns to find out. But...

A “team of buddies versus the world” is already a great thing for a story to be about, and it’s just really satisfying having One Piece having the “the world” part of that equation being so complicated and varied and colorful. It’s like if the Ocean’s 11 gang had to rob an overwhelming-more-powerful global crime syndicate, with multiple competing factions, while still convincing Julia Roberts to love them-- they just robbed Andy Garcia and I watch that movie like once a year.

(And thematically, the comic-- it’s not deep, but it’s basically got an anti-authoritarian streak to it, which I think is important for a kid comic to have. It’s a pirate comic and you can’t really do a pirate comic without being like “fuck the cops” at least a little bit. The pirate thing is interesting because it basically means that there’s always a discussion going on about what it means to be free, though I think sometimes the comic doesn’t really reckon with that-- it sometimes falls back into “well if there was a good monarch though” thinking... but there being good pirates and bad pirates and good government characters and bad ones, I like that... and the very worst characters just being rich assholes... yeah, good lessons in One Piece for the kids!!).

That and I just like how that dude draws. He’s not doing some dreary realism thing-- the layouts are fun without being showy or confusing-- he really improves as the series goes on (though some of the recent stuff I’ve seen hasn’t looked as good, but I’m not sure if I’m seeing low-quality scans or he’s been thrown a loop cause of COVID or what). I’ll always put up with a boring stretch in a comic if someone, like, crosshatches an arm in a way that I find interesting, so that probably distorts how I read One Piece too...

I could go on and on, basically because ... goddamn, what else do I have to talk about, ughhh. But yeah: that’s why I think it’s popular-- it’s the worldbuilding. It’s 100% the worldbuilding. (By which I’d include that it has this massive cast, that i can keep kinda clear in my head, not all of whom want the same things, etc.)(though also geographically-- there are maps and everything)... But recommend it? I don’t know-- I mean... It’s a little kid’s pirate comic. There’s a THOUSAND of them. It’s more modern than a Tezuka thing-- it’s jumping off more from Toriyama than Tezuka, and that’s a different vibe. It’s like not something you can just “recommend”-- it’s a major time sink. I’d recommend Chainsaw Man first to someone with my age and background because even though it has its own flaws, it’s more “age appropriate” and there are only 90 chapters, and it’s got that rad stretch about 20 chapters in so you see the “good part” faster...

#one piece #Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

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mimi-cee-hq · 4 years

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Anonymous Text - Futakuchi x Reader

(I blame @/starlity’s blog for this story because it made me want to write for a Dateko character. 😊 )

Summary:

From Nametsu’s suggestion, Y/n starts taking requests to practise her makeup skills. Futakuchi starts texting her for fun without telling her who he is. But there’s a reason why he wants to stay anonymous.

I have a Futakuchi character summary post if you forgot who he is. I reference some of the scenes in that post for this story so I recommend taking a look at it. I also took a different approach to Futakuchi’s character, but it’s still based on canon events. Also, Nametsu Mai is Dateko’s manager, Koganegawa is their huge baby setter, and Onagawa is the season 4 dude with the big hair they nicknamed Pantalons.

Request from @rynn-lee:

hi, hi!! could i ask for a matchup? 🤓 well, i’m 18 and 5’4. i’m curvy and a bit chubby, and i have straight strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes (also glasses uwu). my style is something in between 80s and rocker, i always wear black, RED, animal prints, leather… and my makeup has to be always on point lol (i’m studying makeup). about my personalityyy… i’m a very calm and patient person, i think i tend to be kind and very open minded. i can be shy sometimes, but i’m usually outgoing. i also love having fun, and i’m always teasing my friends. i may be a bit sarcastic too… 👀 but i always try to help and do all i can for them my passions are music (mostly hard rock and 80s), art, drawing, reading, cinema… (useless fact: i LOVE jurassic park omg) i also love very very much the beach, i could be there forever. and, although being calm, i have anxiety issues :( i’m a big nerd and i live for memes lmao i hope this works! thank you in advance! ❤️

Anonymous Text - Futakuchi x Reader

Words: 2,245

“You’re right. That looks pretty bad.” laughed Y/n.

“I told you. It looks worse than it actually is though. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Nametsu continued to explain to Y/n that she had gotten the bruise on her cheek during the boys’ volleyball practice. Futakuchi had accidentally hit her when he turned around while carrying the volleyball pole.

“But seriously, I don’t know what to do with him. Futakuchi is supposed to be the captain, but he’s not exactly the best role model. Some days I feel like Aone would have been the better choice.”

“So is he the guy you have a crush on?”

“Futakuchi?” asked Nametsu. Y/n nodded. "Ew. No. You wouldn’t want to date him. He takes things too lightly. He was always causing trouble for our senpais.“

Y/n was in the same class as Futakuchi, but they had never really talked to each other. She’d hear about him at times from Nametsu, usually complaining about him. But Y/n was the kind of person who’d want to get to know someone herself instead of basing her opinion on what someone else had told her. She wondered if Futakuchi really was as bad as Nametsu had said.

“Okay,” said Y/n as she took a closer look at Nametsu’s bruise. "I might be able to help you out with this.“

It was Y/n’s dream to become a makeup artist, so she had recently went to a makeup camp for high schoolers. One of the things they had learned was to create a bruised look. She had also learned how to cover up bruises. So she was happy to help Nametsu with what she had learned.

“Thanks so much, Y/n,” said Nametsu. “I didn’t want people at school commenting on it all day.”

“It’s no problem,” Y/n smiled.

When she was done, Nametsu was amazed at her work. “It’s like it’s not even there anymore!”

“This is good practice for me too,” Y/n replied with a smile. “I could do this every day for you until your bruise disappears, if you’d like.”

Nametsu’s eyes sparkled, delighted at Y/n’s offer. “I’d love that! You’re the best!” she exclaimed as she hugged her. As Y/n packed up her makeup tool box, Nametsu asked, "Have you ever thought about taking requests? I bet other girls at school would love to have their makeup done by you.“

Y/n thought for a moment. She had never considered it before. "That sounds like it would be fun!” she replied with a grin.

A few weeks later, Nametsu’s bruise healed so Y/n wasn’t as busy with her make-up anymore. It was tiring for her to wake up so early every day, but she’d do anything for her friends. Nametsu helped Y/n create some posters to place around the school with information about this new undertaking of hers. It wasn’t too long before she got some make-up requests. But she also got an interesting one.

Unknown number: You do make-up right?

Y/n: I do. Is there a certain style you want?

Unknown number: Could you make my lips look plump? Extra plump? And really red? Could you also make my eyelashes 10 inches long?

Y/n smirked at the request. It seemed like she attracted a troll. But being the calm and patient person she was, she replied with sarcasm.

Y/n: Sure. I can definitely do that. Red is a nice colour. I’ll need $400 to cover the cost of the 10 inch false eyelashes.

Unknown number: What? They exist?

Y/n: Sorry, I forgot to add “/sarcasm”

“What are you doing?” asked Nametsu in class, noticing Y/n smiling at her phone.

“Just having fun with a troll,” she laughed. When she got another notification on her phone, she saw there was a reply.

Unknown number: I deserved that. How are you doing? Are you getting any requests?

Y/n didn’t expect that those first few texts to be the start of an interesting friendship. The two of them continued to text each other over the next few weeks. It was kind of weird, but also fun. She didn’t learn much about him. She knew he was a guy that went to her school. He had apparently seen the posters which is where he got her number. He told her that he wanted to keep his identity a secret for fun. She didn’t mind.

At first the texts were just silly. He’d share a picture making fun of one of the teachers. She’d share a meme in response. But after a few weeks of texting back and forth, they started sharing more with each other.

That guy: Have you ever dealt with people who say they understood what you said, but it looks like they didn’t understand at all?

Y/n: Lol. Are you having a hard time teaching someone?

That guy: I guess you could say that.

Another day, Y/n decided to share her worries with him as well.

Y/n: I’m starting to get anxious about my next request. The last one didn’t go so well. She didn’t like it.

That guy: What? You worked so hard! Who do I need to hunt down?

Y/n: Ummm… No. Please don’t. It’s not like you’d get away with it.

That guy: Don’t worry. I won’t get caught. I’ve had lots of practice!

Y/n just stared at that last text and laughed. “Who is this guy?”

“Who?” asked Nametsu, who was sitting beside her in class.

“Just ‘that guy’,” she replied.

“You’re still texting him?” asked Nametsu. Y/n nodded with a smirk. “Anyway, how are your make-up requests going?”

“They’re alright. I’m starting to run out of make-up though, so I’ll need to get more supplies.”

Y/n didn’t expect to see her tall and large classmate in front of her the next day. Aone handed her an envelope. When she asked what it was for, he just gestured to the note that was on it.

“This is for the eyelashes. I expect them to look awesome,” said the handwritten note on the envelope.

She read the note with a snicker. When she looked at the other side to open the envelope, there was an additional note.

“Actually, I don’t think they’ll suit me. Just use this to buy other make-up supplies.”

If this envelope contained what she thought, she couldn’t believe how generous he was being to her. He was really starting to spoil her and she couldn’t help but wonder who he was. He had told her that he still wanted stay anonymous. She didn’t know why, but she decided to respect his boundaries if he had a good reason to not reveal himself.

She opened the envelope and stared at the contents before she laughed her head off. “He’s such a dork!” she said, knowing that he likely didn’t mean to do that.

*****

Futakuchi felt his phone vibrate. He smiled when he saw that he got a text from Y/n.

Y/n: So what are your interests and hobbies? Besides texting me of course.

Futakuchi: They’re a secret. :P Are you still trying to find out who I am?

Y/n: Nope, just curious.

Futakuchi: Well, I’m not telling you. But what other things do you like?

Y/n: That’s hardly fair.

She decided to tell him her other interests anyway. She wished that their school didn’t have uniforms. She liked her own style: a mix of 80s and rocker. Futakuchi didn’t know what she meant by 80s style. She didn’t know if Japan had an equivalent style, so he ended up searching pictures for the fashion style during that decade. He laughed when he replied her.

Futakuchi: LOL! Their hair looks like Pantalon’s!

But it wasn’t until her reply that he realized that he let out a slip.

Y/n: Are you on the volleyball team?

Futakuchi panicked. He didn’t want her to know who he was. Now she was one step closer.

*****

A couple of months back, Futakuchi sighed as he walked back to his classroom. He had left his knee pads there the other day, so he had to get them before their morning practice had started. “I should apologize to Nametsu again,” he thought to himself. “I actually feel bad about giving her that bruise.”

When he arrived at the classroom, it was empty except for the one girl who had her head down at her desk. When he took a closer look, he saw that she was actually sleeping. He recalled Nametsu mentioning that Y/n had been helping her with make-up everyday. “She must have gotten here even earlier than us to do Nametsu’s makeup,” he thought.

He sighed, remembering that there was a time when he used to be like that.

In junior high, he had been best friends with a girl he had known for years. They had basically grown up together. He had liked her - a lot. She had decided to try to date him, but she had gotten overwhelmed with how much he would do for her. She had felt bad that she hadn’t been doing as much for him. He had told her that he didn’t care. But it had taken a toll on their relationship.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Kenji. You’re too serious,” she had told him.

It had hurt. So he had decided that he wouldn’t be so serious the next time he dated a girl. But as he looked at Y/n sleeping at her desk, he wondered if it would be different with her. “She works so hard for her friends,” he thought to himself. “Would she be the same for a boyfriend?”

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, until he saw her posters. When he saw her number right in front of him, he decided to text her on a whim. He saw her smile at his ridiculous request. After she gave her sarcastic reply, he knew they’d get along. But as they texted, he didn’t notice that his feelings for Y/n had grown so much to the point where he was worried about her finding out who he was. Since he had given her money for her make-up supplies, he was especially worried that Y/n would feel burdened by it. At least he could still hide behind the anonymous label. Or so he thought.

Y/n: Thanks for the money!

Y/n: BTW, I know who you are now. You’re on the volleyball team.

Futakuchi started to panic. “She knows it’s me?” He started to worry about what her opinion was of him. But then she next text gave him a different dilemma.

Y/n: I’ve been helping you too. :)

He was confused because she hadn’t been helping him with anything. They barely even talked in person. But during their next volleyball practice, he saw that she was a lot closer with Koganegawa.

“Thanks so much for helping me Y/n-senpai!’ said Koganegawa.

"You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile. “I was happy to help.” Koganegawa was moved to tears from how grateful he was and gave her a hug.

Futakuchi found himself stepping between the two of them and pushing them apart. “Futakuchi?” asked Y/n, confused. “What’s wrong?”

For Futakuchi, this whole thing was wrong. She had been helping the wrong person this whole time. He knew he could set it right if he just revealed himself to her. He started to grow frustrated at this situation. He had to decide. Was better to stay behind an unknown phone number and to be mistaken for Koganegawa? Or should he reveal himself to her at the risk of Y/n potentially being put off by him?

Futakuchi told her.

Y/n blinked a few times and had to do a double take. “I think you were supposed to say something else first?”

That was when that he actually confessed to her instead. “I like you.” He wasn’t supposed to say that. But his thoughts were such a mess that he ended up confessing to her instead.

Y/n just giggled at him. “Well, I already knew it was you who was texting me. I was just waiting to see if you’d tell me yourself.”

Futakuchi blushed, not knowing if it was from the embarrassment of accidentally confessing or from how cute her laugh was. “But didn’t you say that you were helping me?” he asked.

“I have been,” she replied. “I’ve been helping Koganegawa with setting practice. Didn’t you say you were having a hard time teaching him?”

Futakuchi couldn’t believe that he had misunderstood the whole thing. Koganegawa started to excitedly ramble about how much his practices with Y/n had helped. She had scolded him every time his sets were too high, knowing that Futakuchi wasn’t good with those ones. He was shocked that she had done all of that for him.

With determination, Futakuchi suddenly grabbed her wrists and told her, “Go out with me.” He stared at her eyes intently, waiting for her answer.

“I think you’re supposed to ask,” she teased.

Futakuchi smirked at her. “Fine,” he complied. “Could you be my girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” she said as she started to walk away. But Futakuchi didn’t let her get away and hugged her from behind. “Okay,” she said with a smirk as she turned around to hug his waist.

“Hold on a moment,” said Futakuchi. “How did you know it was me?”

“Pro tip: use cash instead of a check if you want to stay anonymous.”

*****

Extras

The Dateko volleyball club was very confused at the whole scene because they never saw the two interact before. Nametsu knew they were texting each other but didn’t think they’d like each other.

Nametsu didn’t approve of Futakuchi at first until she saw how serious he was about her.

He offered to take her to any movie she wanted. Y/n just wanted to watch Jurassic Park all the time to the point where he got sick of it.

@rynn-lee was actually a setter, but because she didn’t put it in the request, I was vague about how Y/n helped Koganegawa. 😊

I hope you liked it. This story ended up being so meta with me answering my request with a story about Y/n answering her request. 😅 It was actually unintentional.

Check out my other stories. I have a completed long fic and some other short stories too. 😊

Matchup tag list: @nagichi-deku, @nxlx96 (let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list) And tagging @haikoo because you usually like these stories.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

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Pluralistic: 06 Mar 2020 (Stunning RPG dice, Shell funded climate denial, Church sends US predator priests to Mexico, South Korea is beating covid-19)

Today's links

The most beautiful RPG dice I've ever seen: And you can also make your own.

The king of Dutch climate denial was secretly in Shell's pay: Frits Böttcher was a packrat, and his papers detail exactly how he was paid to sow climate doubt. He was very good at it.

American Catholic officials helped priests who preyed on children escape to Mexico: At least 51 "credibly accused" priests left the US and took up positions abroad.

A grifty AI company conned the state of Utah into giving access to everything: Banjo claims it will predict and head off terrorist attacks, mass shootings, and child abductions without invading anyone's privacy.

Clearview AI says it only lets cops use its facial recognition tool but it's lying: Investors, cronies and pals got to literally use it as a party trick.

South Korea's beating covid-19 with free testing: Testing is part of the free national health system, and 140,000 tests have been administered.

The web is unusably beshitted with terrible ad-tech: "No, I don't want great articles."

For $3, a robolawyer will automatically force data brokers to delete you and sue the ones who don't: Donotpay meets the CCPA, it's like peanut butter and chocolate.

This day in history: 2005, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

The most beautiful RPG dice I've ever seen (permalink)

Sasha is a spectacularly talented RPG dice-maker, whose online store features the most beautiful dice I've ever seen – and as if that wasn't enough, she also sells dice-making kits to use at home.

https://www.sunshadeauarts.com/sunshadeauarts-academy/

Last month, ahead of the C2E2 con, she posted a series of new, not-for-sale (argh) dice that embed a variety of materials inside large D20s to form nebulas, clouds, alien landscapes, menacing eyeballs, and eldritch scenes. Check them out for yourself!

https://twitter.com/sunshadeauarts/status/1232722877008490497 https://twitter.com/sunshadeauarts/status/1229445585717035010 https://twitter.com/sunshadeauarts/status/1232795390916911104 https://twitter.com/sunshadeauarts/status/1233370655216881664 https://twitter.com/sunshadeauarts/status/1233380666810806274

It's hard to say what these will cost; comparable dice on her site sell for $400. They're handmade, beautiful sculptures, after all.

https://www.sunshadeauarts.com/product/less-than-perfect-midnight-aurora-handmade-resin-inkless-titan-d20/

At that price, they're maybe too expensive for a gift for yourself, but as a graduation present, maybe? And that said, it's exactly the kind of thing I sometimes buy to celebrate selling a new novel, and that's on my roadmap for THE LOST CAUSE, my post-GND, truth-and-reconciliation novel, so I'm definitely putting a reminder in my calendar.

The king of Dutch climate denial was secretly in Shell's pay (permalink)

Club of Rome founder Frits Böttcher was the Netherlands' leading climate denier. He died in 2008. Investigative journalists combing through his papers, discovered that he was paid €500K by Shell and others to sow doubt about climate change.

https://www.ftm.nl/dutch-multinationals-funded-climate-sceptic

His network pushed out scientific frauds like the idea that excess atmospheric CO2 would be "good for plants" through books, lectures and reports.

He was good at it. His work was crucial to stalling action on climate change in the 1990s. Despite this, his 24 sponsors dumped him in 1998 after the signing of the Kyoto Protocol, worried that outright climate denial had lost credibility.

No wonder! This was the guy who'd called climate science "a witch-hunt on CO2" and declared "Our planet is not a greenhouse."

In his papers, Böttcher notes that after he published these frauds, Shell contacted him and offered him giant sums to keep it up and amplify it. The work was personally commissioned by Shell managing director Huub Van Engelshoven. Böttcher was a packrat. His papers in the Noord-Hollands Archief in Haarlem stack 15.9m tall. Inside of them is an eye-wateringly detailed account of how wealthy, planet-wrecking firms deliberately and maliciously paid for climate denial.

That means that we now can name names. We think of climate denial as a kind of emergent property with no human agent, but as the world drowns, roasts, and writhes with pandemic, we have the names and addresses of the people who engineered that situation for their own gain. We know who his political allies were: the VVD party. When the Netherlands' dikes fail and the country begins to drown, these politicians might still be running for office.

It's tempting to think of the climate crisis as something we all bear responsibility for, because we didn't sort our recycling or because we didn't use the underfunded, anemic public transit options available to us. But efforts like this – from Platform Authentieke Journalistiek and Follow the Money – show we were corralled into our complicity by a network of super-rich plutes for their own gain, who knew they were wrecking the world and dooming our children but did not care.

American Catholic officials helped priests who preyed on children escape to Mexico (permalink)

A new instalment in Propublica's outstanding coverage of the Catholic Church's complicity in sexual abuse by priests shows that dozens of American priests who raped children were relocated to Mexico, where they continued to rape children

https://www.propublica.org/article/dozens-of-catholic-priests-credibly-accused-of-abuse-found-work-abroad-some-with-the-churchs-blessing#178005

These priests found new postings thanks to glowing letters of recommendation from church officials who knew that they had been accused – or, in some cases convicted – of raping children in their parishes. Some fled to Mexico to avoid prison, resisting extradition for years.

Not just Mexico: Propublica found 51 "credibly accused" US priests who are currently working in Mexico, Ireland, Nigeria, and the Philippines. Some of them continued to draw pay from their US parishes while they settled in abroad. Parishoners' donations paid for the predators who victimized their children to escape justice.

One priest, Jose Antonio Pinal, wrote letters to Church officials blaming the boy he raped, saying, "that he is not innocent of the situation he wants to blame me for completely." Pinal is still ministering in Cuernavaca. He claims his longrunning rapes of a 15-year-old were consensual, but "he was a minor; so, legally, I am screwed."

When he moved to Mexico, Sacramento church officials wrote to him promising to support him, so long as the new diocese promised to "protect the diocese of Sacramento against any financial liability for any acts committed by you while working in that diocese."

Some of these priests are listed as "inactive" in Church websites, but are still ministering in Mexico. Rev. Jeffrey David Newell, admitted to sexually abusing another 15 year old, and called it a "mistake." He currently serves in Tijuana. Newell says it was a single slip up. Other survivors of his abuse have filed lawsuits against his old US archdiocese. Newell calls their claims "totally absurd." His name has been removed from Church lists of "credibly accused" sexual predators in the clergy.

These predators' survivors are alive and deeply traumatized. And thanks to the inaction, complicity and even encouragement of US Catholic church officials, these priests are ruining the lives of new children all over the world.

A grifty AI company conned the state of Utah into giving access to everything (permalink)

The State of Utah has secretly contracted with "Banjo," a grifty "AI" company, to analyze all the surveillance and internal data generated by all the state's agencies.

https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20200305/13422544042/ai-company-has-access-to-pretty-much-every-piece-surveillance-tech-state-utah-owns.shtml

Banjo gets all the 911 calls, CCTV camera feeds, license plate readers, and internal state databases, and its proprietary, secret algorithm will comb through all that to direct law enforcement.

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/k7exem/banjo-ai-company-utah-surveillance-panopticon

The company claims there are no privacy concerns because it has a patented system for anonymizing data. The patents do not disclose their anonymization method, and every other attempt at this kind of anonymization has fallen prey to "re-identification" attacks.

Banjo gets to locate a facility inside the Utah DOT HQ, and will operate in all 29 counties, state university campuses and 23 cities (including Utah's 10 largest cities). The company's making $20.7m on this contract over five years.

Using FOIA requests, Motherboard retrieved records showing how Banjo got Utah officials to help it sell its services ot the state. When Motherboard questioned the officials about this, they flat-out lied and denied it. The Banjo pitch claims that they'll head off terrorist attacks, mass shootings and child abductions in realtime. The company provides zero evidence that they have ever done such a thing, or that they ever could.

But that lack of evidence didn't deter Utah AG Ric Cantrell:

"They do have case studies. I'm waiting for case studies from Banjo. I'm still waiting for information from them."

Uh, maybe you should have seen the studies before putting Banjo's servers behind your firewall?

Clearview AI says it only lets cops use its facial recognition tool but it's lying (permalink)

Clearview AI is another grifty "AI" company cutting secret deals with law enforcement to use its facial recognition tech, which relies on a database of nonconsensually scraped social media photos.

They claim only cops get to use this. It's a lie.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/05/technology/clearview-investors.html

Clearview investors, clients and cronies all have logins to the system. Long before it was selling to cops, these people were literally using it as a party trick, getting people at parties to give them photos to subject to Clearview analysis, just for shits and giggles.

For example, billionaire John Catsimatidis used it to freak out his daughter, sneaking a pic of her data while she was at a restaurant and then IDing the guy and texting her with the guy's bio while she was still eating with him.

An investor named David Scalzo gave the app to his children: "They like to use it on themselves and their friends to see who they look like in the world. It's kind of fun for people."

It sure seems like Ashton Kutcher also got to run around and use it without limit or accountability. Last time I checked, he was also not a police officer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNhYqLbsAGk&feature=youtu.be

One tech expert, Nicholas Cassimatis, uses the app as "a hobby."

Your 21st Century panopticon, folks, brought to you by compulsive liars who ask us to trust them not to get it wrong.

South Korea's beating covid-19 with free testing (permalink)

South Korea has tested 140,000 people for Covid-19. The tests are free for all as part of the nation's public health program. Testing has led to world-leading containment of the disease.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-03-04/south-korea-tests-hundreds-of-thousands-to-fight-virus-outbreak

President Moon Jae-in calls it a "war" and has put the country on the kind of footing that you'd expect of any existential threat, sidelining the interests of industry in favor of national survival. They're testing 10,000 people/day. Results are available in hours. You can get tested at drive-through testing centers. The kits are 90% accurate and were developed by a domestic producer, Seegene Inc.

America is learning that offshoring high-tech manufacturing to save on labor costs and allowing its private sector to dominate its healthcare resulted in a brittle situation where it can't produce reliable tests, and the unreliable tests are only available to the wealthy.

The fate of uninsured, untested, untreated Americans is not theirs alone. They're the ones preparing wealthy Americans' food and cleaning their homes.

We have a shared microbial destiny that no amount of neoliberal doctrine can handwave away.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/01/shared-microbial-destiny/#covidclasswar

The web is unusably beshitted with terrible ad-tech (permalink)

The web is unusably beshitted and encrufted with popups, interstitials, rolldowns, nagware, paywalls, autoplaying video, ads that scroll with the page, and worse. I haven't looked at the web without an adblocker in years and it's still barely usable.

https://www.cjr.org/first_person/the-infinite-scroll.php

The modern web's equilibrium is "as terrible as possible, without being so terrible that you stop reading," or, worse, "as terrible as is necessary to get you pay to bypass the paywall."

In the CJR, David Roth publishes one of the most pitiless, accurate, evocative descriptions of using the modern internet of cruft.

"The page loads, and a little video ad box rises from the bottom left of the screen and begins buffering. Then a big box pops up over the small one with an offer to subscribe to the paper at a special promotional rate… As you contemplate it, the video begins to play in a muted spasm. This throws a scrim of gray over the rest of the page, making it impossible to read…While you've been triaging a second small video player has floated up into the middle left of the screen. You manage to close these various boxes, and now you can scroll. For a few seconds, anyway, until another ad creeps down from the banner ad above the headline."

But Roth isn't merely complaining here. He's also digging into the underlying reality: dwindling margins, short-term thinking, monopolization of the ad-market, and a buyer's market for ads that lets advertisers demand worse and worse of publishers. Publishers are staffed with people who are "perpetually maxed-out and stressed and scrabbling for a dwindling and finite amount of money." They're choosing chumboxes and other garbage because they want to keep the lights on.

This happened before, of course. It's an HTML5, CSS-enabled reprise of the pop-up wars, where exploding inventory and finite advertising allowed advertisers to play publishers off against each other with increasingly obnoxious, intrusive pop-ups.

These were unbelievably terrible, even by modern standards. Pop-ups would spawn at 1px X 1px, making them invisible, autoplaying audio. Others would sense your mouse heading for the close box and move themselves away from your pointer. They'd spawn 3 more pop-ups for every one you closed, or 300, until your computer ran out of RAM and crashed, taking all your work with it.

These pop-ups didn't go away because publishers won the battle. They went away because of pop-up blocking.

When Opera, and then Mozilla, turned pop-up blocking on by default, users finally had a meaningful reason to prefer one browser to the others. One browser was usable. The other one let pop-up ads crash your computer and eat your unsaved docs. As users switched en masse to blocking browsers, publishers could tell advertisers, "Look, we'll run any garbage ad you tell us to because we need your money. But if it's a pop-up it will be blocked by the majority of our users. They just won't see it."

The pop-up wars were won because technologists helped users exercise technological self-determination. But increasingly, browser vendors are ad-tech companies. Even when they're not, browsers are being designed to serve publishers (who are under advertisers' thumbs), not users.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

We should address monopolies in ad-tech and browsers, we should create meaningful privacy protections via a federal privacy law with a private right of action. But all of that needs to be accompanied with legal cover for users who assert the right to unshittify their web sessions.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

This won't just protect users, it will protect publishers. It's one thing to prohibit publishers from intrusive advertising. But it's another altogether to make that kind of advertising literally technically impossible.

For $3, a robolawyer will automatically force data brokers to delete you and sue the ones who don't (permalink)

The always-amazing Donotpay has a new robot-lawyer service: as part of your $3/month, they'll serve every data-broker with a demand to purge your records under the CCPA, and sue the ones who don't.

https://fortune.com/2020/03/05/delete-location-data-privacy-personal-information-donotpay/

Data-brokers don't just drive nuisance calls, they also expose you to risks like being doxed and swatted, or having your identity stolen, including by stalkers and bounty hunters who exploit mobile phone tracking to get your realtime location. Every single person should purge their data from every single data-broker, period. Donotpay targets the top 20 brokers and facial recognition companies, including Clearview AI.

Donotpay automates opt-outs for these companies. It also automates suing companies that don't comply or those that make illegal demands like requiring you to send a scan of your driver's license before they'll purge your records. Once you're signed up, you can opt out your whole family, and even your friends. If you don't want a $3/month sub (which gets you tons of other awesome robolawyering), you can just sign up once, pay $3, purge your records and cancel.

Fulfilling deletion requests costs companies about $10. You can use them punitively. Any time a company pisses you off, you can just file a data-deletion demand under CCPA.

When Donot pay started, it was Ios only and I couldn't use it. Somewhere along the way, they got a web interface, too. I just signed up. I'm gonna pay for the wifi on my flight this afternoon just so I can explore all its options.

This day in history (permalink)

#15yrsago Bram Cohen's Stanford talk on BitTorrent https://web.archive.org/web/20051124040524/http://stanford-online.stanford.edu/courses/ee380/050216-ee380-100.asx

#5yrsago DMCA abuser ordered to pay $25K to WordPress https://torrentfreak.com/wordpress-wins-25000-from-dmca-takedown-abuser-150305/

#5yrsago Albuquerque PD encrypts videos before releasing them in records request https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20150221/17074630102/albuquerque-police-dept-complies-with-records-request-releasing-password-protected-videos-not-password.shtml

#5yrsago Judge who invented Ferguson's debtor's prisons owes $170K in tax https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/mar/06/ferguson-judge-owes-unpaid-taxes-ronald-brockmeyer

#5yrsago Hartford, CT says friends can't room together unless some of them are servants https://www.courant.com/news/connecticut/hc-hartford-scarborough-street-house-0218-20150217-story.html

#5yrsago Finnish millionaire gets EUR54K speeding ticket https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-news-from-elsewhere-31709454

#1yrago Zuckerberg announces a comprehensive plan for a new, privacy-focused Facebook, but fails to mention data sharing and ad targeting https://www.wired.com/story/facebook-zuckerberg-privacy-pivot/

#1yrago Ruminations on decades spent writing stories that run more than 1,000,000 words https://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2019/03/lessons-learned-writing-really.html

#1yrago A thorough defense of Modern Monetary Theory https://www.forbes.com/sites/johntharvey/2019/03/05/mmt-sense-or-nonsense/#62e9ed235852

#1yrago GOP lawmaker driven mad by bill that would decriminalize children who take naked photos of themselves, delivers a frenzied rant about anal sex on legislature's floor https://www.thestranger.com/slog/2019/03/05/39511377/a-bill-decriminalizing-teen-sexting-passes-the-house-causing-republican-to-scream-about-anal-sex-on-the-floor

#1yrago Bounty hunters and stalkers are able to track you in realtime by lying to your phone company and pretending to be cops https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/panvkz/stalkers-debt-collectors-bounty-hunters-impersonate-cops-phone-location-data

#1yrago From prisons to factories to offices: the spread of workplace surveillance and monitoring tech https://datasociety.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/DandS_WorkplaceMonitoringandSurveillance-.pdf

#1yrago NH GOP lawmakers mocked gun violence survivors by wearing clutchable pearl necklaces to gun control hearing https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2019/03/06/gop-lawmakers-wore-pearls-while-gun-violence-victims-testified-activists-were-outraged/?utm_term=.addd1b7a24f8

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Emptywheel (https://www.emptywheel.net/), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org), Naked Capitalism (https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/), Super Punch (https://superpunch.net/, Bas van Beek (http://www.basvanbeek.com/).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Museums and the Web: March 31-April 4 2020, Los Angeles. https://mw20.museweb.net/

LA Times Festival of Books: 18 April 2020, Los Angeles. https://events.latimes.com/festivalofbooks/

Currently writing: I'm rewriting a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm also working on "Baby Twitter," a piece of design fiction also set in The Lost Cause's prehistory, for a British think-tank. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel afterwards.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopias: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

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wrotetheaboveoftoday · 4 years

Text

1831 Weds. 26 January

6 55/.. 12 5/..

F35º at 7 35/.. and hard frost and fine morning - left my note for ‘monsieur monsieur Monod, Faubourg Saint Martin no. 83’ and out at 7 55/.. to the Muette gate reading as I went along (beyond the bannière) Le Temps - back at 10 - breakfast - M. Pelletier at 10 35/.. 2nd lesson - was going very well with at 11 35/.. my lesson when very small note from Mrs. Hamilton dated last night - ‘would you like call with me on Lady Granville? She wishes to make the acquaintance - and if you would come for me tomorrow at 1/2 past one, we should be sure to find her - yours sincerely’ - sent her back 1/2 her own paper to say I was very much engaged at the moment and could only

In Margin: Began with P- Pelletier at page 57 Brard and should have done to page 82, if not interrupted

send her back 1/2 her own paper to say thank you, I will be with you in an hour that is, at half past one’ - inadvertence - it should have been I would be with her in 1 3/4 hour i.e. at 1 1/2 - however I was in the midst of my lesson and a solution of arragonite in nitric acid, and was obliged to send away Pelletier and think of ordering carriage and dressing - note some time ago from one of the Miss Monod’s for her father to say that young Waterhouse had been seized some days ago with fièvre scarlatine assez forte mais qui Dieu merci n'a point été assez grave pour occasionner des inquiétudes serieuses; il entre maintenant en convalescence, and ne tardera pas, nous L'esperons, à recouvrer sa sante, and son entrain ordinaire’ - thought I should have known all about it from Mr. John Waterhouse ‘qui a soigné son frère avec une tendresse presque maternelle’ or would have let me know -

Wrote the above of today till 12 25/.. - then dressed - off at 1 1/4 en passant put into the post my letter written last night to ‘Monsieur Antoine, Clavet, chef [Quviner] de marbre, à Saint Béat, Haute Garonne’ - at Mrs. Hamilton’s at 1 1/2 - she ready and we drove immediately to the embassy - Lady Granville - not well - bad cold - not up - left my card with Mrs. Hamilton’s name written on in pencil - then to Lady S- de R- [Stuart de Rothesay] found Lord S- [Stuart] and Mr. Hamilton with her - shook hands with the latter talked to and very good friends with the former who staid longer than usual before leaving the room Lady S. de R- [Stuart de Rothesay] still looks ill - asked if I had got my book (meaning Knight on the phallic worship) no! - not time yet - Lord S- [Stuart] said there was a very indecent print plain to the meanest capacity he would commission Wharry to get the book if I liked - said thanks - had I known this sooner might have been glad to accept the offer - but it was now too late, and I had contrived about the thing - did not quite but did almost hint that I should buy it myself - said nothing about its being to be sold tonight - Lord S- [Stuart] paid 150/. for his copy Wharry said 3 ladies (booksellers) had bid against him - one of them a Melle. Charpentier - I was foolish ever to have named the thing at all but said not a word of this of course Observed that I should not have named it to anyone but Lady S [Stuart] but that I did not care about Lord S [Stuart] knowing and that I knew she told him everything -

It seems Mr. Gregory is getting anti-christian - says Christianity is worn out etc. etc. was on the point of saying nothing nothing astonished me and what Mr. Frisell had insinuated about our 2 proprietors (Mrs. Hamilton had gone in to the children’s dinner and left us tête à tête) when Lady Collin came in (I had met her coming away from Mrs. Hamilton’s), and staid some time, and the subject was not resumed - Lady C- [Collin] an elderly rather tiresome person what Mrs. Hamilton called a twaddle and Lady S [Stuart] tho very civil to her seemed to think the same I see I really must learn to be always poli[t]e lapolitesse francaise and that of English high life -

Left Mrs. H- [Hamilton] with Lady S- de R- [Stuart de Rothesay] at 4 and drove to the de Noés - sat 1/2 hour with them all - the Baron de N- [Noé] there - and Comte de N- [Noé] came in just before I came away - all very civil and glad to see me - then called and sat 10 minutes with Mme. de Bourke - I think she hoped I was going to take her apartment and when I said I would come to inquire after her health perhaps it was some disappointment - but she was very civil - came to the drawing room door with me tho’ still very gouty and confined to the house - home at 5 - changed my dress Had put on white frilled handkerchief and moire watered silk gown first time since Miss MacL [MacLean]’s death that I was out of mourning - dinner at 5 20/.. skimmed over the paper -

Off at 6 1/2 and at the book sale (it had just begun) in 1/4 hour - our clocks 10 minutes too soon - bought 22 volumes great and small - Knight on the phallic worship numero 753 was almost at the end of the sale - De Bure who sells this library du feu M. Gosselin bid against me that I soon saw I should not get the work for nothing - there was a pause on 150/. de B- [Bure] saying to a gentleman behind him for whom I think he was bidding? that they had once sold the work for 150/. and it was rare, but he had not heard of its being sold for more - the gentleman said it was a work the author had given it to his friends and it was not published - on which de B- [Bure] bid again, and it was knocked down to me at 199/25. - the fact was, I was determined to have it, but had hesitated once or twice, purposely, as if to let him have the book, so that perhaps he durst not run greater risk in running the thing up to a higher price - numero. 722 up at 600/., only 400/ being bid was withdrawn till next Friday week end of the sale - M. de Bure saying the work was published at 4000/. they had sold a copy (some time since) to the duc de Richelieu for 3000/. and he would have this present copy advertised in the papers - it should be made more known in the hope of getting nearer the value of it -

Home at 9 1/4 - my aunt inquired eagerly if I had got the book but was probably surprised at the price paid - Shewed her all the prints - She never found out the indecency and asked to have the book to read when my newfangledness had gone off on which I foolishly said it was not a book to be left about or perhaps for her to read however I afterwards plastered this off as well as I could and read aloud to her (leaving out and altering a little as I went along) nearly the first hundred pages I read of the god Priapus with perfect ease well knowing she would understand nothing about it and turned off the exception ability on the reflections touching religion and talked of hearing today at the Stuarts that some Englishmen read bad books and got to think and say Christianity was worn out -

Came to my room at 11 10/.. F35 1/2º at 11 20/.. p.m. very fine frosty night and fine frosty day - tho’ it had been snowing between 7 and 9 and the streets where whitish when I returned from the sale - and we had a few little flakes of snow in returning from the de Noés - found they had left 5 cards while I was out - ‘Mme. la Comtesse de Noé 5 rue de L’université’ ‘Le Comte de Noé Pair de France’ same address ‘Mme. la Vicomtesse de Noé and underneath in pencil la Vicomte de Noé’ and another card ‘Le Vicomte de Noé with in pencil above La Vicomtesse de Noé rue de L’université no. 5’ and ‘Le baron de Noé Lieutenant aux Hussards de Chartres’ with written in pencil above ‘Messrs de Noé’ - cards enough at all rates -

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #1831 #paris winter 1831

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jq37 · 5 years

Text

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 3

Thanks, I Hate It!

This week, we move forward by first jumping backwards. Last episode, the Bad Kids found that Riz and Fig were missing. Now, we get to see what happened in the meantime. Riz was in his office, trying to put together anything new on the Nightmare King. We’re reminded that his sword--the Sword of Shadows which he got from the arcade and lets him misty step (also, which he used to kill Kalvaxus)--was made by Tabaxi ninjas (seemingly relevant considering the whole Shadowcat thing). He notices that, in his photo, Kalina’s image doesn’t look as time-worn as the rest of it, as if only the part where she appears was protected. He hears a noise and goes to investigate. What he finds, is a creepy-ass nightmare skeleton person in the mirror claiming to be Baron, from the Baronees (the person he on the fly lied--poorly--that he was dating in ep 1). Respecting the fact that Murph never clarified whether Baron was a guy or a girl, Brennan has Baron exclusively refer to themselves as Riz’s R̵̪̹̄o̸̱͝m̸͔͔̂̽a̴͕̾̈́n̵͙̬͒c̸̣̏͠ḙ̸̃̓ ̶̞̇̕P̸̞͚̈́a̸͉͒͝r̴̛͈͈t̷͓͇̋͒n̸̬͛̈́e̴̮̒r̴̝̃̓ in this mega-cursed, fake Swedish(?) accent.

Thanks, I hate it.

Riz, faced with his lie brought to life, is pretty freaked and tries to shoot it but he’s quickly subdued and dragged into the mirror. Luckily, he’s able to leave the photo for his friends to find.

Meanwhile, Fig spent the night in a weird fugue state--almost like an enjoyable nightmare. Most of her focus is on this feeling of isolation, fame, and power--but in a good way. In the background, she’s doing some unimportant stuff. You know, packing her stuff, stealing a gem, trapping Gorthalax in it, and going to Bastion City. No big deal. Anyway, that brings us back to the present with the rest of our party.

They make it to Bastion City and, more importantly, the hotel where Fig is supposed to be. On the way, Adaine tries to detect magic on Sandra-Lynn to try and figure out why she can see the photograph but nothing comes up. At the hotel, they unsuccessfully try to get the concierge to tell them where Fig’s room is. Adaine detects that the receptionist has some kind of transmutation on them and her first thought is, “Magic plastic surgery.” She dispels it. Not magic plastic surgery. The concierge is a demon--which is different and worse than devils who are at least lawful and, like, part of the bureaucracy of punishing people who deserve it.

Anyway, fight time! A lot happens during this fight so I’m going to try and highlight the most important parts:

All the employees in the immediate area turn into various demons to fight the party.

Adaine and Kristen catch sight of Fig’s room number (downstairs penthouse) right before the fight starts and, at the top of the initiative, Adaine goes invisible and runs for the elevator.

Fabian vaults of Gilear’s face--unnecessarily--and rolls a nat 20.

Gilear (who has FIVE hit points) ducks and covers because of course he does. That doesn’t stop him from being completely obliterated by one punch from one of the huge gorilla demons. He freaking DIES. Thanks, I hate it.

Downstairs, Adaine finds a bunch more demons who are with Fig who is clearly being mind controlled. They have Riz strapped to a table and Fig’s about to stab him with a ritualistic knife. Adaine goes for a dispel magic and gets advantage because of Boggy which leads to her rolling *two nat 20s* and snapping her out of it immediately.

In a very boss move, Fig immediately grabs Riz and dimension doors him out of his restraints and them both to the coat check where she left the ruby with Gorthalax. Before they poof out, Riz sees yellow eyes in the shadows. Familiar tabaxi eyes. Seemed like she was calling shots.

Riz gets in a very cool kill with the line, “Tell Daybreak I said hi.”

Fig finds out Gilear is dead and grabs his soul. Kristen heals him up.

Fabian vaults off of Gilear a second time and rolls a nat 1, sending him back into death saves.

Kristen tosses a spare the dying at Gilear and then kisses full wolfed out Tracker because time isn’t of the essence or anything.

Fig grabs the ruby Gorthalax is in and sees that it’s cloudy--cursed somehow to keep them from breaking him out. Not good. She also finds a bunch of other gems which she also grabs.

We meet Kristen’s new spirit guardians which are now hipster Post-Grad philosophy students in a full spectral coffee shop. She finds them insufferable but is also kind of into it.

They clean up the rest of the demons and then Fabian does donuts on the Hangman. And we are out of combat.

Fig is a little distraught about having almost killed Riz and brought them all into this dangerous situation which literally killed Gilear--even though no one else blames her even a little. Gilear has a bit of a breakdown which is fair. The man died. They try to send him home--Fig wants to give him 10k gold and send him on vacation--but he is determined to stay and experience things and be useful. Also, Fabian has it in his (and Gorgug’s) head that Gilear must be some kind of chosen one since one of the demons in the fight chose to attack Gilear over him.

Fig looks through the other gems she got and only one--a Celestial Sapphire--is similar to size to Gorthalax’s. When they bring it out, a slot in Gorgug’s van pops open. They slot the Sapphire in and, through the radio, an Angelic voice speaks to them. He sounds like Owen Wilson and he doesn’t remember his name. The Hangman hates him immediately. Fig pretends to be a cop to get info from the cops that arrive on the scene, doesn’t find out anything useful, but does roll a nat 20 on her deception (come on) and briefly turns the game into the sister, cop-drama show set in the same universe as the Grey’s Anatomy sham-life she’s living, kissing another full adult man. Incredible.

They regroup at a posh restaurant/cafe called The Swan’s Little Parade. Sklonda calls and, after she and Sandra-Lynn do the mom-catch up thing, she has a quick talk with Riz where we find out a few things about Kalina:

She only worked with Pok on missions between Falinel and Solace.

She was great at going invisible and other infiltration things.

(Note: We actually learned this earlier but I wanted to keep this info together)She looks more like a traditional housecat than a big cat like some other tabaxi.

It’s extremely hard to scry on her.

She didn’t attend Pok’s funeral.

The last time Sklonda heard from her was 12ish years ago.

Riz only encountered her a few times as a kid.

Last Sklonda remembers, she reached out to Pok it was something to do with the ship the Oracle sank on.

They pass around the picture to see who can see it and not only does it appear that Ragh can see her (oh, kinda implied this before but Riz can too) he also seemed really bugged out. Tracker says she can use her cleric mojo to put up some wards to (1) keep them from getting mind whammied like Fig did overnight and (2) maybe make Ragh feel safe enough to talk. She also suggests they all sleep in a huge dog pile for safety which I think is great and someone should draw that.

Gorgug gets a text. It’s Zelda. She can’t believe he left without saying goodbye.

Thanks, I hate it.

Detention

Fabian for Using Gilear as a Launch Pad Two (2) Times

This was a top contender for this spot, even before Fabian did this a second time and screwed up so bad (nat 1!) that Gilear dropped to zero again and had to make death saving throws.

Honor Roll

Adaine for Freeing Fig

Listen, I will freely admit that I have a clear bias towards Adaine. You got me. She’s my favorite. HOWEVER, you cannot tell me that going invisible, rushing straight to the elevator, then rolling double nat 20s (a 1/400 chance) to release Fig from domination right before she plunged a knife into Riz’s heart wasn’t the sickest series of events that happened during this ep. What could possibly compete?

Random Thoughts

I’ve been trying to figure out the rhyme or reason to who can see the full photo but I haven’t figured out a pattern yet. It’s not that only people who have seen her before can see her because Sandra-Lynn can see it and she said she’s never met her--although I guess it’s possible that she has and she didn’t recognize her since she’s a super spy. And it’s not a blanket thing on the Bad Kids specifically because Riz can see her. I was hoping they’d show it to more people so we could get a better idea of the rules. Maybe it’s based entirely on if she wants to be seen by that specific person? But then why wouldn’t it default to the blank image. It seems (from our limited POV) that most people can see her. Maybe for most people a blank space would be more suspicious than a random tabaxi? Idk.

Riz forcibly installing himself as Fabian’s best friend and it working is low key the funniest relationship development in FH. I’m so glad Murph and Lou ran with that. Also, the fact that he’s basically accepted that Riz is his best friend but the Hangman hasn’t at all is so good.

Brennan really just shot Zac in the head at point blank range at the end of the episode, huh? He really just did that to our boy. What’s also funny is that, unlike--say--CR where there’s usually at least a good minute of decompression and goodbyes, Brennan just goes for the kill shot and then peaces out immediately. What a power move.

Also, poor Zelda! She’s already so insecure, this isn’t gonna be good for her self esteem. Arguably, there were extenuating circumstances Gorgug can claim but you know that’s only gonna help so much since he def could have at least called/texted her to let her know he had to leave in a hurry because Fig/Riz were missing. I wonder if there’s a section of the binder on this.

For reference, the demons they fight in the hotel lobby are a Cambion, and then several barlgura and skeksis.

“He’s just a guy!” He certainly is. Check out his stats. Hilarious but also, I can’t act like my stats would look that much different.

I truly, truly cannot believe that Emily pulled the exact same hospital stunt again and it resolved in exactly the same way. This is like when I played blackjack with my brother when I was a teenager to teach him that the house always wins and he hit 21 twice in a row.

Also on the topic of Fig, her coming down from her mind control was my favorite part of this episode, for a couple of reasons. I love how sincerely Emily played the immediate shock and horror at what she almost did (closed book my ass). I love how every other person was so happy to get her back. I love that none of them even entertained the thought that she might be dangerous or untrustworthy now. Relationships at the intersection of constant bullying and ride or die are my favorite.

While we’re on the topic of emotional scenes, Gilear full breaking down in the van post-fight was very funny but you also genuinely felt for the guy. It’s been a really long day for the guy and he died like one and a half times. His, “I haven’t experienced anything before this moment,” line really hit me hard. And I think it’s very wild that Brennan set the DC for convincing him to go home at 25 (which Fig did not pass with a 21). It’s very interesting that Gilear’s reaction to this series of events was to double down and be like, I *need* to be here. Seems like this could be a set up for some interesting Gilear development.

The amount of times I have almost typed Balnor is unreal. My brain stores all the middle aged men hanging out with people too young for him to be hanging out with in the same folder.

I can’t believe Adaine just went for that dispel except that I can because she did the exact thing with Iris’ wig at the NY live show and I couldn’t believe that either! I really did not think (1) that was a good move or (2) gonna lead to combat (except for the kind that gets you banned from a hotel). I completely misread that situation. Like, it’s a world full of magic. It’s not that weird that a random person would have a spell on them. Anyway, this is why she’s the oracle and I’m not.

The Barlgura needed a 3 or higher to hit Gilear. He got a 19. Yikes.

“I had to ask.”/ “No you didn’t.” (The crew explodes into laughter.)

Riz tells the whole gang about the Baron thing and tells everyone that they need to stop lying in case all their lies are gonna pop out and attack them. Gorgug admits that he’s kissed the Hangman. Kristen confesses to a group of her closest friends and girlfriend that she is gay. Tracker is like, “Babe, what?” Tracker (and the Bad Kids but in a different way) must really love Kristen because she is just so much all the time.

Fabian: Who are you seeing then?/Riz:...................No one.

Ally Middle Name Beardsly wtf is a paranoia check?

The comedic rhythm of Fabian vaulting off of Gilear’s face with a nat 20, him dying, being resurrected, and the Fabian trying to do it again with a nat 1 and knocking him near death is so perfect that it’s wild that it was totally random. This is the kind of thing that makes you get superstitious about dice.

We’re introduced to Boggy’s second mood this ep which is Boggy’s mood which is a slightly squinted, “Hmm...I don’t know about this.” Thanks, I love it.

In addition to considering Gilear might be the chosen one (by who? Of what? They don’t know and neither do I) the half of the group entertaining this theory also considers Gilear might be the Nightmare King (”If you are you have to tell me. I’m your daughter.”). I don’t know if the NK does possession but please have the NK possess Gilear at some point. If the theme of this season is carefully filing away random off the cuff gags and making them plot relevant, please let this be one of them. Also, lol at Murph trying to roll high enough so that Riz has the knowledge to stop the shenanigans before it derails the whole campaign.

The group bestows upon Gilear the positions of Tour Manager, Social Media Manager, and Honorary Bad Kid (listed last of course).

Fig grabbed a lanyard of out Adaine’s jacket and I remembered, oh yeah, she has a very magical jacket that is only ever used for shenanigans, if at all. Imagine being so magic that you have a magic jacket that you’re always wearing that can summon anything (w/i reason) and you just kinda...forget about it most of the time.

Curious about why Fig specifically was called in to do the sacrifice and why Riz was the one who had to be sacrificed.

I hope Adaine just continues to loan out Boggy to anyone having a bad day. I love that.

“Maybe this is one of those massages that hurt.”

Really wanted Hilariel to Skype in and ask about Gilear. Her take on everything is always so funny. She is as crazy as everyone else in her family but in such a low key way.

Lol at the party being like, “Yeah, Tracker healed me just fine without any 69-ing,” which is truly an incomprehensible sentence without context and still mostly incomprehensible with context.

Don’t wanna overlook the coolness of Fig rolling double 17s (disadvantaged) to command the barlguras. Not magically, just convincing them she was still in charge of them. Very clutch.

Fabian is so much chiller about letting people on his motorbike these days. He let Gilear ride it. He let Riz ride it. He gave a blanket invitation for anyone in the area to hop on before he did donuts. I love Sophomore Fabian.

Gilear gets a nat 20 for his first roll! Riz and Kristen got two nat 20s. Fig got one, Gorgug got one (he rolled a second one that was lost with disadvantage), and Adaine rolled two but they really only count as one since it was with advantage. Fabian rolled one of each. That’s a lot of 20s for one ep!

#fantasy high #fantasy high live #dimension 20 #fantasy high spoilers #report card

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the-woman-in-the-writing · 5 years

Text

“When the Moon Walked Among Us” a short fiction

Rating: PG Word Count: 3,164

Author’s note: I’ve always been good at remembering my dreams, and that seemed like a useless talent until I dreamed the world ended. I wrote this story as a way of preserving how vivid and realistic (yet a bit weird) my dream was, though please take note that I am not the narrator (in my stories, the narrator is never me). I didn’t revise, add, or deleted any scene or part in this dream-story. Everything you’re about to read was purely dreamed by yours truly.

Maybe it was the end of the world. Maybe it wasn’t. They never knew for sure what it was and why it happened. Only one thing was clear: nothing was ever the same again. Not after everything…

No.

People came together all over the world to watch the Super Moon. They packed their tents and barbecues, set up camp in wherever there was a clear field and open sky, turned off their lights, and waited. Families, friends, lovers, and strangers. We all came to watch the Super Moon that was said to last for a whole day. People chatted with one another, talking about their families or whoever they came with, over burgers and beer. The children made new friends and played by the sunset with their flashlights and food wrapper paper planes.

Everyone waited for the Super Moon.

They said it will be the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. And it was. Despite everything that happened after, it really was.

When the evening came and everyone had piled up beside their tents and prepared their telescopes or binoculars, the Super Moon came into view: beautiful, big, round, and luminous, tinged and glowing with a creamy orange light that everyone marveled at. We were wolves staring at the moon, waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. It was so close that you could almost see every spot and crater in great detail even without a telescope or binoculars.

Then we went home, talked about it on the drive, posted pictures of it on the internet with stupid captions and hashtags, and showed it on the news. But as the world spun around this captivating piece of heaven, we all took turns, the people of the world. Of viewing. Of taking photos. Of making art. Of writing poetry. At one point you could say everyone was looking at the same thing as you could never miss it, this beautiful thing.

Later, people will believe that the Super Moon brought the world together for one tiny yet impactful moment in history. Not everyone will think so, but most will.

But we would all agree that this was the beginning.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” - Romans 8:18

II.

No one could sleep.

When it started, no one knew why. Everyone in the world shifted in their beds and wondered why it was 2am and they couldn’t sleep. Though we all woke up on time, in sync with our 7am alarm, the atmosphere felt like noon: hot and awake. At work or at school we all exchanged, I couldn’t sleep last night’s and me too’s, and two hours after we all ate our lunches the sun was already setting. We were all confused. That night, no one got a good night’s sleep.

We asked the scientists, but some of them kept silent. Some of them said it was normal. We didn’t know what to think; we just wanted to sleep.

After a while, people started getting sick or getting into accidents. Most of us developed insomnia and loss of appetite. Those who started falling asleep again began while they were driving on their way to work. By the end of the month, most of the headlines yelled CRASH, DEAD, and INJURED. Children cried out of fear, wondering why they couldn’t avoid the darkness of the night by sleeping. Their parents grumbled, tired and sleepless as well.

Our days shortened. Life felt fast with our 16-hour days, but we’re humans. Of course, we found a way to adjust to it eventually. We stayed up all night partying, reading, drinking, texting, praying, and wandering; we opened and closed our stores much later; we extended our Late, Late Shows; and we made clocks that had shorter hours.

That didn’t mean we slept well and regularly again. Sometimes we would still shift in our beds and turn our pillows over and under our heads. The digits of 8 midnight would seem to blink endlessly by our bedside table. And if sleep was hopeless, we all stared at the moon, which was closer than it was three months ago.

“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed…” - 1 Corinthians 15:51

III.

It was all over the news: a lion with a school of dead fish washed up ashore on a beach in India. No one knew where the lion came from or how it made it all the way there, but people were speculating it had something to do with the moon and how it traveled a hundred thousand kilometers closer to us in just five months.

Again, we asked the scientists. And again, they either kept silent or said it was normal.

It’s part of the earth’s natural process.

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

It’s nothing to worry about.

From 384, 400 kilometers to 274, 575, we knew that was something to worry about, but we didn’t know everything. The how’s and the why’s. So, we relied on the scientists, because in science we trust and in God we doubt.

No one lived by the beaches anymore, even fishermen. By day, beaches would get so dry that you could walk for three hours and see nothing but land still. You’d step on a dead baby crab once in a while and by the time you’re looking back to where you came from, your legs would be gift-wrapped with seaweed and glittered with sand. At first, we couldn’t figure out the best way to fish and go on cruises because by night the water would get so high that it would swallow up any structure within fifty kilometers. In Ireland they say you’d be able to climb half of a sea cliff during the night.

After a while, the ecosystem went crazy and we went hungry. Partly because we’d just been adjusting to the 16-hour days, but mainly because the animals had a harder time getting used to it. Most of the fishes we caught were dead, and no one dared to fish in the middle of the night as weather became more unpredictable. Crops were no exception. Half of them died along with the marine life.

But then again, we were humans. We found a way to survive.

Almost everything we ate were manufactured in a shape of a cylinder or cube. We wrote recipe books that said, “101 Ways to Cook Canned Food” or “Canned You Cook This?” And we hid almost every vegetable we had left in fear of someone stealing it. Then by moonlight, if we felt having something that reminded us of how the world used to be, we would eat our roasted genetically modified chickens and our children would say, “Daddy, daddy, the moon is the size of my fist!”

“But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty.” - 2 Timothy 3:1

IV.

Our days shortened to 14 hours and depending on which part of the world you lived in, you either bathed in the sun or crept in the dark for more than half a day. The lands were cracked eggshells in Southern Asia and Africa, just like their skin. News reporters, missionaries, and tourists who travelled from the cold, dark North cried at swimming pools and parks because they missed the heat, and sometimes children would mistake them for ghosts or banshees.

Earth’s tilt was at 45-degrees and up in the North, where it almost snowed all year-round with only a month to melt almost half of the ice. People who didn’t die to lack of sleep or hunger died in the cold; in the South, they dried up like beef jerky. And before even Christmas arrived there were already no feeding programs or charity cases anymore, because all the beggars were dead and buried under our snow.

One time, a friend said, “My daughter came home from school and gave me her drawing. Their teacher had asked them to draw and color different kinds of people from all over the world and you know what? Even the Asian is black now!” We laughed for a second or so, but we stopped for a lot of reasons.

“You know, you could draw the moon and the sky and still use the same crayons.”

He replied, “The moon will take half of the paper though”

“And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short.” - Mark 13:20

Big, bold letters sprawled across every outlet store, every shopping center, and every thrift shop, and they all spelled the same thing: WINTER CLOTHES FOR SALE. We scavenged the last of our animals that could provide us warmth and security because nothing says, “We will survive this deadly winter” like wool jackets made from our frozen sheep and a pair of leather gloves, freshly skinned from our endangered cows.

Then the world figured out how to get what it wants. The North began to ask the South for animals: chickens, pigs, cows – every farm animal you can find in a children’s story book. Because no animal we could eat could survive the winter that long and we don’t know where the fishes went. On the other hand, the South asked for vegetables and lots of ice. And finally, we were able to travel conveniently again when we’ve figured out where to put all the ice, and the people of the South were happy as long as they got fresh vegetables on their plates and ice to keep them hydrated and cool. It didn’t matter that their forests and crops burned up and that their rivers were nothing but empty veins, because it was enough that they ate and drank.

It wasn’t easy, of course. We all complained. We all asked the scientists.

“How do we survive?”

We no longer asked if we were going to be okay or if they were lying about half of the world being frozen and the other half burning as something normal, and that we will be finishing the year earlier than expected. The scientists said there was nothing to worry about. We had to take their word for it, because what could we do if even they can’t do something about it?

So, no one just talked about the moon that watched over us, except maybe for the Internet that made jokes and funny pictures about it.

What’s important was that we made it out of this alive.

So, our scientists – all kinds – genetically modified our animals and manipulated our crops; they reproduced fishes in their laboratories; they made special facilities for storing water; they invented brand new foods with whatever was left to help get us all the nutrients we need; and they gave us technology and guides to help us do all of this at home.

If the sky was clear, we would find ourselves looking at the moon and its craters and spots, with our faces painted with moonlight. We were still wolves waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. Something that could survive all this.

We prayed.

Even though in science we trust and in God we doubt.

“Pray that it may not happen in winter. For in those days there will be such tribulations as has not been from the beginning of the creation that God created until now, and never will be.” - Mark 13:19

VI.

What follows is a series of tragedies: tragedies we know of; tragedies we named; tragedies that weren’t 14-hour days, mass animal endangerment, world famine, or a half-frozen, half melting world – tragedies that we were used to.

Earthquakes and the tsunamis that followed sunk islands as we welcomed a new year. All the small countries that lived on islands no longer resurfaced; their people would’ve been declared extinct if it weren’t for migration. If somebody were to make a world map at that time, you’ll no longer find Singapore, Malaysia, Brunei, Fiji, Cuba, or any of the islands as small as them on the map. Half of Japan and Indonesia sunk, and only a quarter of the Philippines resurfaced.

We lost seven percent of the world population. That’s half a billion people crushed by debris and drowned with the resources they traded all over the world. All their memories of their childhoods, first loves, and heartbreaks were reduced to nothing but rocks in the ocean to be covered by algae or barnacles. They were Atlantis, and a story come true have never felt so tragic.

People were devastated, of course. But we were all very hungry too. Those who weren’t affected by the earthquakes refused to help. There were incoming hurricanes and we all thought,

The dead will remain dead.

Half a billion people don’t need food, shelter, or medicine anymore.

There was no use in sharing resources with the few hundreds of survivors when more than a billion need it to stay alive.

Some people thought it was cruel and selfish, but by then we weren’t humans anymore. We were savages scraping what was left of the world we destroyed. And as much as we hate to eat and drink what should’ve been shared to the survivors of the Great Sink, we still did. We were all so hungry. God, we were hungry.

Then the hurricanes came along with their floods, landslides, and tornadoes, and they killed us and our animals. Homes were destroyed. Families were separated. Children were orphaned. There were about five billion people left in the world.

This must be a bad dream, we thought.

A sick joke.

That’s what this is.

“There will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and pestilences. And there will be terrors and great signs from heaven.” - Luke 21:11

VII.

People found evidence of advanced technology being developed and used by scientists, the same ones who told us that the world was not ending. (Or so we believed.)

There was a mass production of high-tech projectors and weather instruments that were launched into space to control what we saw on the horizon and what we didn’t. (Or so they say.)

The media was accused and persecuted for false news and being paid of hush-money to keep the so-called truth a secret. (Or so we wanted.)

Hundreds of data was discovered to contain information about a world-wide human experiment determining the effects of a global catastrophe and series of disasters on human behavior. (Or so they say.)

We imprisoned CEOs, scientists, and news reporters. We raided their homes, stole their food and clothes, and hurt their loved ones. We killed them in our dreams every night and ripped them limb by limb in the sleepless ones as we lay on the floors of our wrecked home, covered in snow or in sweat, and still staring at the moon that isn’t back to its rightful, safe distance. (And so we did.)

Everything will be back to normal once we shut down all those projectors and controllers. We will learn to live again and be humans.

And the world was not ending after all.

(And that’s what we wanted to believe.)

“And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.” - Matthew 24:10-12

VIII.

People came together all over the world to watch the world end. They held their children or whoever they had left, gathered food and shared them with others as a last act of kindness, set up camp in wherever there was a field with no debris or remnant of a human being, and waited. Families, friends, lovers, and strangers. We all came to witness The Day that was said to last a lifetime. People chatted with one another, talking about their families or whoever they lost, over empty stomachs and chapped lips. The children stayed with the adults and clung onto them with unending fear and the memory of a lost childhood.

Everyone waited for The Day.

They said it will be the most dreadful thing you’ll ever see. And it was. Despite everything that happened before, it really was.

When the hour came and everyone had piled up beside the broken homes or fallen trees, the moon stared right us as always: terrifying, big, round, luminous, and waiting to collide with our fallen earth. We were wolves staring at the moon, waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. It was so close that you could almost see every calamity and loss you’ve endured the past year in great detail even without a telescope, binoculars, or a washed-up family album or baby shoes.

We stayed and faced our inevitable fate. Some still managed to post pictures of it on the internet with stupid captions and hashtags. There were even people who showed it on the news. But as the world spun around this frightening piece of heaven, we all took turns, the people of the world. Of viewing. Of taking photos. Of crying. Of hugging and kissing one last time. Everyone was living the Day as you could never miss it, even if you wanted to.

And we all believed that the moon will crash into us and wipe us out for old times’ sake, but it wasn’t much later that we heard the most chilling, bone shattering sound we ever got to hear: the sound of the moon cracking, like a breaking iceberg, echoing into our souls, and resonating as weeping and almost hushed screams.

Some people swore they saw Christ come out of the moon, accompanied by angels. Not everyone believes so.

But we all agreed that when we saw pieces of the moon falling down on us in slow motion, helpless and blazing, that it was disturbingly beautiful.

It was then that I kissed my wife for the last time.

“But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven; and the powers of heaven will be shaken.” - Mark 13:24-25

E P I L O G U E

There were survivors and they were less than a hundred. They spent the last days on earth, freezing, weeping, and gnashing their teeth in the dark. The sun died. The moon is gone. There is only but loneliness living and walking among the few humans who had gathered up the will to keep on breathing.

They couldn’t accept that that was the end of the world. If it was, there shouldn’t have been anyone left. But there was, and it was them.

Soon, they realized there was nothing left to do but wait.

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wordssometimesfail · 5 years

Text

Textual Reddie & Queer!Eddie: A Masterpost

So I’ve been planning on doing something like this for a while, but it had fallen to the wayside until @skinks and I started talking about Reddie again, and my weak little heart was rekindled.

Speaking of reKINDLEd (ehh? Ehhhhh?), my Kindle copy of IT is full of highlighted textual support of unresolved Reddie feelings, and a queer reading of Eddie specifically. And lo, a disjointed essay-type meta was birthed. This fucker’s about to get long, so if you’re interested, dive on under the cut – but be forewarned, there are massive spoilers for the book and (probably) Chapter 2 below!

(Seriously, cannot emphasize the MASSIVE SPOILERS enough. If you don’t know what happens and you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read this.)

As a very general disclaimer, I am not going to be including everything that I highlighted. There is a fuckton, including a lot of small moments of Richie and Eddie interacting that don’t showcase anything other than their closeness. I’ll be paring it down here to moments that prove a larger theme, and some standout cuteness. With that said, IT is a 1,300-page behemoth, and it’s definitely possible that I skipped over something. If you know of anything significant that I missed, feel free to reblog with additions.

Note: I will be using terrible, half-assed MLA citations for this. Pagination is from my Kindle copy of the novel. All quotes will be italicized to help differentiate them visually from my points (if something was italicized in the original text, it’ll be unitalicized here). Unless otherwise stated, all bolded emphasis is mine. “--” will be used in place of em-dashes, “/” will be used to denote paragraph breaks.

PART I – ASTHMA

“When Eddie’s nervous he reaches for his aspirator.” (King 372)

It doesn’t get much more explicit than this. We’re told in no uncertain terms that Eddie’s psychosomatic asthma is rooted in nervousness, in things that make him scared and uncomfortable. The trigger for this particular explanation is being overwhelmed by the age and significance of Boston, but in an earlier scene:

“These shoes no longer looked just right... but he supposed they would do for where he was going. And for whatever he might have to do when he got there. Maybe Richie Tozier would-- / But then the blackness threatened and he felt his throat beginning to close up.” (King 112)

This is Eddie’s first on-page asthma attack. It hits him the first time we see him as an adult, having just received his call from Mike to return to Derry. And yet it’s the thought of Richie, not It or Derry, that makes Eddie nervous enough to need his aspirator. Notably, the thought goes unfinished. We don’t know, nor do we ever find out in explicit terms, what Eddie thought Richie Tozier would.

Of course, asthma is the most prominent symptom of Eddie’s hypochondria, so the attacks crop up often in the text. The most interesting of these attacks for our purposes (other than Eddie becoming nervous at the thought of Richie) is the following:

“‘The first of the ‘new murders’ [...] began on the Main Street Bridge and ended underneath it. The victim was a gay and rather childlike man named Adrian Mellon. He had a bad case of asthma.’ / Eddie’s hand stole out and touched the side of his aspirator.” (King 646)

Mike (speaking) tells the gang about the death of Adrian Mellon, and takes care to note three things about him: he was gay, he was childlike, and he had asthma. The connection between Eddie and Adrian is drawn quickly and obviously as Eddie reaches for his aspirator, seemingly out of reflex - but what we can also infer here is that this is making Eddie nervous. He could be nervous because a man with asthma was just killed by It, and he, too, is a man with asthma. He could also be nervous because the parallel that Mike and the prose have none-too-subtly drawn between Eddie and Adrian implies that they have more in common than a respiratory problem. But what?

PART II – EDDIE/ADRIAN

“[The other Losers] are being called--I know that much. Each murder in this new cycle has been a call.” (King 1116)

Mike writes this in the fourth interlude, referring to the way that It’s murders 27 years later all seem to be calling out to the Losers’ Club. By drawing a parallel between Eddie and Adrian through their asthma, King leads us to believe that Adrian’s murder specifically called to Eddie. He also leads us to consider how else they might be linked.

Adrian is virtually Eddie’s opposite. He’s out and proud and in a loving, unstrained relationship. He flirts openly with other men, teases his aggressors, and, to contrast with the neurotic and nervous Eddie:

“‘He didn’t have much in the way of protective coloration. He was one of those fools who think things really are going to turn out all right.’” (King 27)

His openness, however, is what gets him killed. While being harassed by some homophobes, Adrian teases and antagonizes them, and the next time they see him they assault him and unwittingly gift him, half-dead, to Pennywise.

It especially kills me that Adrian’s asthma is not significantly mentioned in his chapter. He makes a comment to his boyfriend that the “air’s better” (King 36) in Derry, which could imply that he has had less problems since he moved there, but the word “asthma” is never used. It’s not relevant to his story, and it’s not brought up until King has to draw a parallel between Adrian and Eddie. Because it’s not relevant to Adrian’s story, the connection that King draws between them feels almost half-assed and weak, until one considers their contrasting personalities and contrasting happinesses in their respective relationships. Along that same line of thinking, the implications of having Eddie directly paralleled by a gay man killed for being gay cast a suspicious light on Eddie’s presumed straightness.

If we accept that Eddie and Adrian are linked, that Adrian’s murder was a specific call to Eddie, then it goes without saying that there is a strong implication here that Eddie is closeted. He is being contrasted with an out gay man who fears no consequence for being out in a small, violent, hateful town. Eddie’s neuroses and fixation on his psychosomatic asthma are contrasted with a man who hadn’t a care in the world - not even his (presumably) real physical condition. The fear and self-hate that dogged Eddie his whole life never bothered Adrian Mellon, until it killed him.

If we accept that Eddie and Adrian are linked, and what that implies, then we can infer that Adrian is what Eddie could have been, were he happy, open, and out - and what happens to Adrian is the exact kind of thing that may have kept poor, terrified Eddie in the closet.

PART III – SEX, QUEERNESS, AND SELF-LOATHING

So, I think we all remember the leper scene--creepy in the 2017 movie, even creepier in the novel. One notable book-only detail is that the leper “[offers] to give Eddie a blowjob for a quarter” (King 400) in addition to chasing him around and being generally disgusting.

“Come back here, kid, the hoarse voice whispered. I’ll blow you for free. Come back here! / No, Eddie moaned at it. Please, go away, I don’t want to think about that.” (King 394)

Eddie is immediately terrified by the mere thought of getting a blowjob, of being touched by someone diseased, of being touched by a man. He doesn’t even want to think about it... and then the question becomes, does he not want to think about sex with the leper, or sex at all? Regardless, it seems pretty normal for an eleven-year-old boy to be scared of a blowjob from a strange adult with open sores on his face. But there is, of course, more to unpack here.

Another difference between book and film comes when Eddie recounts the tale to Richie and Bill...:

“‘He didn’t have leprosy, you dummy,’ Richie said. “He had [syphilis].’ / […] / ‘It’s a disease you get from fucking,’ Richie said. ‘You know about fucking, don’t you, Eds?’ / ‘Sure,’ Eddie said. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.” (King 400)

All of a sudden Eddie isn’t just afraid of disease, but of a sexually transmitted disease. Pennywise’s angle on Eddie is a big fuck-off combo of decay and sex--specifically gay sex. Not only is the “leper” a man offering him sexual favours, but Bill is quick to point out that men can get syphilis from “another g-g-guy if they’re kwuh-kwuh-queer" (King 402). Queerness and gay sex are therefore lumped in with Eddie’s fear of the “leper” from word go.

Since he’s a pre-pubescent child (in that same scene, Eddie recalls trying to masturbate and nothing happening), Eddie’s disinterest in and general apprehension towards sex makes sense without bringing the element of internalized homophobia into the mix. But this is my post, I can do what I want, and Stephen King already brought it into the mix for me.

Eddie is frightened by the thought of queer sex at another notable point in the novel as well, when he recalls a vignette from his and the Losers’ past:

“Patrick Hockstetter was down [in the Barrens]. Before It took him Beverly saw him doing something bad. It made her laugh but she knew it was bad. Something to do with Henry Bowers, wasn’t it? Yes, I think so. And-- / [Eddie] turned away suddenly and started back toward the abandoned depot, not wanting to look down into the Barrens anymore, not liking the thoughts they conjured up. He wanted to be home with Myra.” (King 720)

Myra, for those who haven’t read the novel, is Eddie’s wife. If you’re one of those people (or even if you haven’t read it in a while), you might also be wondering what exactly Patrick Hockstetter did to Henry Bowers in the Barrens that made Eddie balk and suddenly crave his wife’s company. Well, my friends, Patrick tried to give Henry Bowers a blowjob. Eddie has to turn away from the mere thought of two men (well, boys) engaging in a sex act. He has to return to his wife, the implication here being that she is there to shield him from queerness, from queer sex.

And the scene between Patrick and Henry, which we do see later from Bev’s point of view, is extremely telling as to why Eddie has to turn away. Henry gets violent and angry when Patrick propositions him, just like Adrian Mellon’s assailants got violent and angry, just like Eddie’s own mother gets defensive and cruel at the thought of a pair of (unconfirmed) gay men in their town with a nicer house than hers:

“‘Any two men who bother keeping a house so nice must be queers,’ Eddie’s mother had once said in a disgruntled sort of way, and Eddie hadn’t dared ask for clarification.” (King 712)

Eddie here is afraid to even question the root of his mother’s assumptions, or the very fact of her prejudice. Questioning, experimentation, being openly anything other than straight in Derry only earns you bile and violence from the rest of the town, and Eddie knows this. Why would anyone come out? How could they? Isn’t it better to just turn away and leave the thought unfinished?

And it is explicit that Eddie feels somehow wrong and incomplete, in addition to his general aversion to all things queer and sexual. At one point, compounding himself and the homeless “leper”, Eddie has an internal monologue that ends as follows:

“I got me a disease that’s eating me up. My skin’s cracking open, my teeth are falling out, and you know what? I can feel myself turning bad like an apple that’s going soft. I can feel it happening, eating from the inside to the out, eating, eating, eating me.” (King 405)

By conflating himself with the “leper”, Eddie makes the disease his own. He makes his fear of the “leper” falling apart a fear he has about himself. He fears something within himself, something rotten, turning him “bad” - bad like offering a blowjob to Henry Bowers in the Barrens. It’s a literal fear of disease, to be sure, but that sense of being rotten to the core, being bad on the inside in a way you cannot change, also feels like an apt metaphor for internalized homophobia in light of the subtextual queerness of the rest of Eddie’s fear. And especially in light of another scene in which he feels inferior, rotten, wrong:

“Simply reaching for the cubes of bread [at communion] became an act which required courage, and he always feared an electrical shock... or worse, that the bread would suddenly change color in his hand, become a blood-clot, and a disembodied Voice would begin to thunder in the church: Not worthy! Not worthy! Damned to Hell! Damned to Hell!” (King 1247)

We will absolutely come back to the fact that Eddie uses Voice with a capital V, but for now let’s focus on the rest of the scene. Eddie’s fear of being damned and unworthy is rooted in a story his Sunday School teacher told him, about a boy who blasphemed. Even as a small child, he has anxiety about his existence or behaviour cursing him – making him diseased, or turning bread into blood. And, of course, for the purposes of this reading, we can’t ignore the fact that queerness and American Christianity don’t typically go hand-in-hand. This compounded with the suggestion that he is rotten from the inside out suggests that Eddie has some reason to think he has blasphemed – and his persistent association with queerness suggests that this reason may be the knowledge or suspicion that he isn’t straight.

Eddie’s worries even follow him into adulthood:

“Get off it, Eds, Richie’s voice seemed to whisper. You ain’t solid at all […].” (King 715)

I included this quote because it reinforces my point about Eddie not feeling whole or right within himself. It’s not quite time for the Reddie part of this meta, but I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that Richie is nowhere in this scene and has absolutely nothing to do with it, and still it’s his voice that voices Eddie’s subconscious fears about not being “solid”. Again, I will be going into this in more detail later. First, there’s one more element of this queer reading of Eddie that needs to be tackled.

PART IV – THIS ONE QUOTE GETS TO BE ITS OWN PART BECAUSE MY GOD

Most of you are probably familiar with Anthony Perkins, even if you don’t know you are – if you’ve ever been exposed to Psycho, either by watching it or through pop-cultural osmosis, you'll know him as Norman Bates. You also may or may not know that he was famously closeted. He reportedly only had relationships with men until he met and married Berinthia Berenson in his early 40s, and never came out during his lifetime. (Obviously one’s sexual history doesn’t necessarily determine one’s sexuality, but most sources I can find suggest that he was gay, not bisexual.)

Now, if you read Eddie Kaspbrak as gay, this may sound somewhat familiar. Married a woman, never came out, horror icon, it’s all there. But why do I bring it up? Well, because of this:

“Eddie--it was weird but true--had grown up to look quite a little bit like Anthony Perkins.” (King 628)

On its own, it’s a seemingly innocuous, if oddly specific, pop-cultural reference. Nothing to write home about. Compounded with everything else we know about Eddie, and everything else I’ve covered above? It’s telling as balls. King could have simply described Eddie, as he does immediately after this line, but he takes the time to compare a character repeatedly associated with queerness and sexual repression to a closeted gay man who eventually married a woman.

(Note: admittedly, IT would’ve been written in the early-mid 80s, at which point Perkins was not officially known to be gay, but according to my father there were plenty of rumours. He was, additionally, known as a repressed, shy “mama’s boy” who was made nervous by female attention. Sound like anyone else we know?)

PART V – REDDIE

And now for the main event.

If I unpack every individual piece of Reddie goodness to the degree that I’ve unpacked Eddie himself, we’ll be here for another 2,500 words. So, I’m only going to hit three major points:

PART VA – CLOSENESS

Richie is all over Eddie. He frequently pinches Eddie’s cheeks, calls him cute, and is all-around physically and verbally affectionate with him. Some notable examples:

“Richie […] pinched Eddie’s cheek. / ‘Don’t do that! I hate it when you do that, Richie.’ / ‘Ah, you love it, Eds,’ Richie said, and beamed at him.” (King 384-85)

This is their first on-page interaction, mind you. This moment sets the stage for the rest of their relationship.

“Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. ‘Cute, cute, cute!’ Richie exclaimed.” (King 390)

“‘[My aunts] all pinch my cheek and tell me how much I’ve grown,’ Eddie said. / ‘That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds--just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.’” (King 446-47)

Listen. Do you think I’ll ever get over this? Do you think I can move on, knowing that this exists? Richie teases everyone, but he only ever uses “cute” for Eddie.

“‘Take it easy, Eds,’ Richie soothed, and leaned toward him. / ‘Don’t call me Eds and don’t you dare pinch my cheek!’ [Eddie] cried, rounding on Richie. ‘You know I hate that! I always hated it!’ / Richie recoiled, blinking.” (King 668)

This scene takes place when they’re adults, and I love it for a number of reasons – the easy return to form for both of them, Richie genuinely trying to comfort Eddie, and Richie’s surprise at being snapped at. My heart goes out to the man.

“‘I hate it when you call me Eds.’ / ‘I know,’ Richie said, hugging him tightly, ‘but somebody has to toughen you up, Eds. When you stop leading the sheltered igs-zistence of a child and grow up, you gonna, Ah say, Ah say you gonna find out life ain’t always this easy, boy!’ / Eddie began to shriek with laughter.” (King 1334)

There are quite a few scenes where they make each other laugh, but this one is my personal favourite.

And the cherry on top:

“[Richie] slapped Eddie’s can.” (King 1322)

The context of this is less than shippy (they’re squeezing through a tight passageway, Richie is behind Eddie and needs him to move forward), but there are few ships that can say that party A has canonically smacked party B’s ass, and I think we should appreciate that more as a fandom.

There’s also a strong element of protectiveness – Richie is very protective of Eddie in a way that Eddie’s mother isn’t. He genuinely pays attention to Eddie’s needs and tries to do right by him:

“It was Richie and Bev who went to Eddie. […] Richie dug his aspirator out of his pocket. ‘Bite on this, Eddie,’ he said, and Eddie took a hitching, gasping breath as Richie pulled the trigger.” (King 903)

“Richie heard Eddie cough twice […] and then fall silent again. He shouldn’t be down here, he thought […].” (King 968)

“...Eddie [agreed to follow Bill into the sewers] last. / ‘I don’t think so, Eddie,’ Richie said. ‘Your arm’s not, you know, looking too cool.’” (King 1251)

“Richie turned Bill toward him, looked at him as you would look at a man who is hopelessly raving. ‘Bill, we have to take care of Eddie. We have to get a tourniquet on him, get him out of here.’” (King 1396)

Hey fun fact? Fun fucking fact, Eddie’s already dead in this scene and Richie knows that.

On a cheerier note, and to add one last dimension to Eddie and Richie’s closeness, Richie is the only person with whom we see Eddie intentionally swapping spit/germs (outside of ritualistic bloodletting). Not only does Richie use Eddie’s aspirator at one point, but there’s also this scene:

“‘I can carry [the Parcheesi board],’ Eddie said, a little out of breath. ‘How about a lick on your Rocket?’ / ‘Your mom wouldn’t approve, Eddie,’ Richie said sadly. […] ‘[…] Ah say you kin get germs eatin after someone else!’ / ‘I’ll chance it,’ Eddie said. / Reluctantly, Richie held his Rocket up to Eddie’s mouth... and snatched it away quickly as soon as Eddie had gotten in a couple of moderately serious licks.” (King 1243)

The obvious humour of this scene aside (poor Richie, having to share), the fact that hypochondriac Mama’s boy Eddie doesn’t mind Richie’s germs in particular is both sweet and interesting. The imagery here, of Eddie licking Richie’s Rocket despite his mother’s disapproval (compounded with the pre-established association between Eddie and blowjobs) is just... interesting, to say the least. As is the fact that I totally stole this scene and reversed the roles for the sake of a fic that I would like to pimp as a reward for making it this far into this monstrosity. It has a happy ending, don’t worry.

What does all of this put together signify? Richie and Eddie are close. They clearly love each other as friends, and the almost flirtatious touching, cute-calling, teasing, protectiveness, and Rocket-licking can also all signify the beginnings of something else as well. If nothing else, it’s fun, sweet fic fodder.

PART VB – THE VOICE (WITH A CAPITAL V)

This is one of my favourite details. Eddie thinks of all the Losers from time to time, but Richie is straight-up one of the voices in his head. Richie refers to his impressions and characters as Voices with a capital V, and Very often, Eddie will think in them. He’ll hear jokes in them, Pennywise will taunt him with them, he’ll hear the very criticism and hate that he fears hurled back at him in Voices. Right from the start:

“‘Had any good chucks lately, Eds?’ [Eddie] says out loud, and laughs again.” (King 374)

As he drives to Derry, Eddie is already laughing and delighting in the thought of his friends (specifically Bill and Richie) and the way they used to be. Later in the same scene:

“‘Sure, kid, EV-ery day,’ he says in a Richie Tozier Voice, and laughs again.” (King 376)

King quickly establishes that Richie’s Voices are a source of joy for Eddie, and that Richie himself is one of the Losers that Eddie is most looking forward to seeing. Indeed, in several scenes (including one of the ones quoted above), we see Eddie laughing at or with Richie when he does his Voices, both in the present and the past. But Eddie’s love of the Voices gets twisted by his own subconscious fears – I mentioned earlier that it is a Voice with a capital V that tells Eddie that he’s damned to Hell during his imaginary blood-communion. And it’s Richie’s voice that reminds Eddie that he’s not “solid”, to cap off a scene where he literally runs away from thoughts of queerness and sex. Eddie’s fear of himself becomes conflated with the Voices in a way that suggests his fear is of Richie, of Richie’s hatred, contempt, and dismissal. He is afraid that Richie sees him as unworthy, damned, unsolid. He is afraid that Richie sees the thing that’s eating him from the inside out.

Eddie wants to be home with Myra. It’s easier to keep Richie and his Voices in his head than to risk what they would (--) do if they saw all of Eddie clearly.

PART VC – EDS & EDDIE’S DEATH

Yes, we all know and love “Eds”. We love Richie being a little shit, we love Eddie being his tsundere self, and we love that Eddie canonically has a soft spot for the nickname:

“Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds... but he had sort of liked it, too.” (King 374)

We also love (or hate) that “Eds” factors into Eddie and Richie’s final exchange in the novel:

“But there was something else [Eddie] had to say [before he died]. / ‘Richie,’ he whispered. / ‘What?’ Richie was down on his hands and knees, staring at him desperately. / ‘Don’t call me Eds,’ he said, and smiled. He raised his left hand slowly and touched Richie’s cheek. Richie was crying. ‘You know I... I...’ Eddie closed his eyes, thinking how to finish, and while he was still thinking it over he died.” (King 1386)

(A.k.a. the scene that nearly made me throw my Kindle across the room.)

This ties into a broader theme with Eddie that I only began noticing when I started compiling my notes for this meta – his thoughts, when connected to other men, queerness, or sex, often go unfinished. He cuts them off before they stray somewhere that makes him nervous (the thought of Richie giving him an asthma attack), before they stray anywhere at all (the memory of Patrick and Henry making him yearn for Myra, not wanting to think about blowjobs), or before they even become thoughts (not daring to question his mother’s homophobic comments). And here, when he has to say one thing before he dies, when he’s finally allowing himself to conclude a sentimental, intimate thought that he doesn’t even know how to word... he’s cut off one last time.

And we don’t know what he was going to say. We can speculate, we can infer, but we don’t know, just as we will never know what “Richie Tozier would”.

Richie Tozier seems to know, though. When he realizes they’ll have to leave Eddie’s body behind, he kisses Eddie’s cheek (just as Eddie touched his in his final moments, and in contrast to the way he used to pinch them) and...:

“Richie got up and turned toward the door. ‘Fuck you, Bitch!’ he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched. / ‘Why’d you do that?’ Beverly asked. / ‘I don’t know,’ Richie said, but he knew well enough.” (King 1427)

Richie’s shutting the door on Pennywise and the sewers and the whole horrible tragedy of it all, yes. But he’s also furious with the grief of losing Eddie, and shutting the door that will now forever separate Eddie’s final resting place from the hole where he died. Bev’s question allows Richie to do just what Eddie did, too – keep it quiet, cut it off, not acknowledge what he’s avoiding or what he’s just lost. Still, he knows well enough.

PART VI – CONCLUSION

I don’t know for sure that King intended for Eddie to be closeted, but I think he did. He’s gone on the record that he believes in leaving stuff like this for the reader to figure out. There are a lot of scenes, a lot of small moments, that suggest that Eddie is gay, and while many of them make sense without that reading, the entirety of the picture they paint does not. I’m partial to Reddie, and as I’ve demonstrated above, I believe there is a lot of textual evidence to support the theory that they had feelings for each other. Eddie’s death alone, and the fact that the last thing he had to say needed to be addressed to Richie while Eddie held his face in his hands, is... a LOT. But I’ll be honest – my loyalty is to queer!Eddie on its own.

If Eddie Kaspbrak is gay, then his story is ten times more heartbreaking. It’s a story of fear, not just of the supernatural but of the very real hatred and pain he would have faced being openly gay in Derry. It’s a story of fearing that something inside of him was rotten and sick and sinful, and that one of his closest friends in the world thought so too. It’s a story of self-loathing. And it’s a story without an end, because Eddie could never let himself think of how to finish admitting what he needed to admit to himself. The truth was lost in asthma attacks, in Myra, in death. In that sense, it’s fitting that King never explicitly stated that Eddie was gay, if that was indeed his intent – it's one more thing we’ll never know for sure, because Eddie couldn’t bring himself to tell us.

THAT BEING SAID. My loyalty is to queer!Eddie. Which means that my loyalty is to making this shit better, exploring and dissecting the hell out of it, and fixing it. Give Eddie Kaspbrak the ending he deserved! Let him finish his thoughts! Take these quotes, draw inspiration from them, and let’s all cling to each other in preparation for Chapter 2.

#it stephen king #stephen king's it #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #gay eddie kaspbrak #it meta #reddie meta #Aaliya writes #I have been working on this... for a long time #please tell me what you think and what I've missed #unless what you think is that eddie isn't gay because why are you here then #why did you read this #who are you

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thelastarchangelaskblog · 5 years

Text

Session 5

With all my schoolwork and internship I wasn’t able to put together a highlights reel of our last session, but I have some time now so I’m doing the thing!

This time all seven of us were present and it heralded some truly fantastic moments.

We opened up after an RP Zira ( @heliocentricgeometric) and Tony (me) had, where DJ (doxblogsstuff) woke up and took a look at his hand:

Dox: I was just going to say that DJ woke up, looked at his hand, and started swearing.

Bob ( @thechaoticwave) is still looking for our group and we spent some time chatting and eating breakfast while waiting for our bird friend to join us and also speculating how Bob was going to find us.

thechaoticwave: My name begins with a t today and that's all you get to know.

We’re eating breakfast and DJ is putting together elixirs so he doesn’t have to mess around for 2 turns in combat.

Dox: DJ comes very close to using the wrong hand to eat the wrong thing but then he stops himself.

For some reason Zira ends up telling the party she’s descended from celestials!

Zira: I'm descended from celestials.

Everyone else: [is basically the gif set of John Mulaney going “This might as well happen? Adult life is already so goddamn weird.”]

Tony already knew the thing and so just patted Zira on the head.

We move on to discussing how we’re supposed to make ourselves obvious enough for Bob to find us.

Rhodey ( @rebaobsessions): We could sing?

Zira: You people are all CRAZY

Zira goes off on how singing would draw basically every enemy to us because that is not subtle.

Zira: THERE ARE ALWAYS MORE UNDEAD

Also featuring:

Zira: Why would you make soldiers sing? That's not their job!

We’re wondering just how soldiers even got to singing.

Luna ( @imagine1117): So you didn't have to audition.

DJ insists he’s not singing because he’s a terrible singer but Tony’s insisting that he should sing.

DJ: Rhodey said i didn't have to sing!

Tony: Well, I guess we just want Bob to be flying around forever then.

There is singing and it’s done by @the-grey-hunt who has a lovely voice!

It was decided the party’s sole brain cell is currently being held by Rhodey.

Someone: Does Bob have any brain cells?

thechaoticwave: Bob has absolutely 0 brain cells, despite needing intelligence.

This interaction came to life for some reason:

Zira: DJ, how are you not dead?

DJ: Explosions.

Zira: I am traveling with a bunch of idiots.

Luna: it took you this long to notice?

Zira: I thought you had at least some self-preservation, but I guess not.

Tony: I have a very well developed sense of self-preservation! I’m still here, aren’t I?

Zira: We have what appears to be a 100% survival rate, but that could change at any moment.

We were rolling for something?

Dox: DJ rolled a 1. Wait, I can reroll that, never mind!

Rhodey checks the tower out where we defeated two specter a few days ago and notes it’s still desecrated. This is news to Zira.

Zira: It’s DESECRATED?!

In the area there are also suspicious tracks indicating someone was staying in the area for a while but we have no clue who other than that they’re not stalking us despite Zira’s doubts.

Bob joins us! Tony immediately asks him about his four shoulders.

Zira: Does that mean you're distantly related to dragons?

Bob: (genuinely distressed) I don't know I'm a bird!

Tony: You missed us fighting two undead and Rhodey sweet-talking a banshee into giving up her underwear.

Bob: You're a PALADIN, Rhodey, what the heck?

We get to talking about necromancers because of the undead.

Bob: Is there a necromancer nearby?

Zira: There might be! You never know!

it’s totally Zira because she keeps talking about death

The previous night Tony and Zira had a heavy conversation about the Horned Crown and their associations with it, which I have to post here because damn did some plot developments happen!

But Tony’s bringing the rest of the group up-to-date on everything and how Zira and he are totally going to go after this group and bring them down.

DJ: What about this As--

Zira: Do not. Say his name! Are you CRAZY?!

DJ: What if you think it?

We’re all a measly level 2 so Zira is rather alarmed at the notion of going after this group immediately.

Zira: While I am full of rage, i would rather not die. You're all crazy and super killable right now.

Tony: We’re just going to gather information first!

Why did we start talking about this?

Zira (probably): You can't confine yourself to one method of murder. There's just so many. With the number of weapons around, the chances of our getting stabbed in the back? Increasing. I'm not making any specific accusations. I have no evidence....yet.

Luna: Hands up if you're going to betray us, stab us in the back, and then kill us.

(No one responds)

Luna: I think we're good.

We’re talking about nerds now!

Zira: Luna...you're also a nerd, for nature.

Luna: Yes.

Zira: Ted...I don't know what you're a nerd for yet.

Tony: If Rhodey ever tries to tell you he’s not a nerd he’s lying.

Zira: Nerds group together. They're like really nervous birds.

thechaoticwave: Ted waves.

DJ gives Tony healing potions and I have an epic goof-up.

Me: So we have five bottles of healing - I mean healing potions.

We’re back in Briarbane, and Tony’s off to talk to the townmaster regarding some orcs!

Helio: Zira trails behind Tony like a duckling.

The townmaster is enjoying a nice cup of coffee when Tony asks him some nice questions about the orcs he’s concerned about.

Tony: So have these orcs been stealing, pillaging, or murdering anyone?

DM ( @the-grey-hunt): He’s looking increasingly sweaty as you keep talking.

Townmaster: They’re there?

This guy is an epic racist and per the party members who were not present for this convo but listening in over the mic Tony (and thus me) dragged this guy through the mud.

Tony: Well, I suppose I’ll see about getting them moved because they’re clearly unsafe here next to you. What kind of proof will you need?

Townmaster: Oh, just anything...

Tony: I'll be back with a letter.

Townmaster: A letter?

Tony: A letter. Because they know their letters. They're not uncivilized beings.

Zira takes a moment for a final potshot at this guy.

Zira: So would you say I’m dangerous? (she doesn’t look human at all, baring sharp teeth)

Townmaster (rolls a Nat 1): No.

Zira: Hey, Mr. Townmaster, sir. You're a bitchass liar.

We finally meet up with Clint again and the first thing Zira tells him is that the townmaster is a bitchass liar and every other citizen in the vicinity doesn’t disagree.

While we’re discussing the Redbrands, Clint goes:

Clint: I don't know why this town has two pubs when it only has, like, 400 people.

On further discussion of this group and what to do...

DJ: Glasstaff?

Clint: ...okay, very funny. I know who Glasstaff is.

Tony: Yeah, he has a glass staff.

Clint: So I've heard.

Bob: WAIT, DOES HE REALLY?

We’re talking murder!

Zira: (singing) Murder time!

Clint: Don't say that out loud.

Tony: (stares him in the eyes and says in a flat tone) Murder time.

Clint does not come with us as we head to the Redbrands because he has very few arrows and a whole lot of bolts from Bob.

We’re in a dungeon now! An actual dungeon while we deal with the Redbrands!

Luna locates a cool bag and because there’s something suspiciously magic in there she up-ends it per Tony’s advice. A bunch of gold hits the floor along with two bottles that proceed to break. One was a healing potion and the other an unknown poison.

We’re all very sad at the loss of a healing potion.

We find a bedroom and per Zira’s instructions proceed to defile it because that’s going to spook our enemies.

Bob does smiley face graffiti everywhere.

And that’s where we left off! In the middle of a dungeon and the next session is TOMORROW at 1:00 CST!

#d&d campaign #heliocentricgeometric #doxblogsstuff #rebaobsessions #the-grey-hunt #thechaoticwave #imagine1117

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theofficersacademy · 5 years

Photo

Morfis is the name of a metropolis of magic to the south of Fódlan, as well as the boundless desert that surrounds it. In the distant past, it was called the City of Illusion. Thanks to an intricate web of trading routes, rumors of its profound and mysterious magi continue to spread.

DESTINATION: Morfis

CARDINAL BEAST TARGET: Leto, Serpent of the South

Leto, a small, draconic Demonic beast with one large, cyclops-like eye. It flees at the first sight of danger, and those who have encountered it claim that its cries are like a wailing human’s. Apparently it possesses great magical power, the ability to heal itself as well as seal all magic that isn’t its own within 10 meters of itself. The Mage Society of Morfis plans to test its combat prowess once it’s captured.

TEAM POST GOAL: 100

TEAM TAG: #ArcadiaLeto2019 is to be used on all event-related IC posts

Places of Interest

Morfis Proper: Once you set your eyes on his sprawling metropolis, you realize that even the most fanciful descriptions of Morfis fail to fully describe the splendor of this city of magic. The local mage society have agreed to assist you and provide whatever you need, whether it be weapons or new magic techniques, but on the condition that the monster be captured alive so that they can keep it for experimentation. If they can’t have Leto, well, perhaps the souls of fresh, young Fódlaners will be good enough for what they have in mind...

Ruins of Serret: The Morfisians are rather tight-lipped about what these ruins are, exactly. Nestled in the heart of the desert that surrounds their oasis city, the ancient stone seems to ebb and flicker, one moment solid, the next little more than an illusion. But there seems to be some tie between them and Yevaud, who can often be seen traversing the skies above it.

The Tower: An enormous structure that dominates the skyline of Morfis. Though the native people don’t seem bothered, you find that you can’t look at it for long, lest a gripping feeling of bone-deep dread paralyse you with panic. You find that the ‘master’ of the tower is a man named Estarriol, apparently descended from the Mage-King. The most you can glean about the place is that maybe it’s used for divination of some kind...?

NPCs of Note

Maiherpri: Leader of the Mage Society? Or just the member of theirs that’s been designated as liaison. Either way, she seems happy enough to help. She insists on coming on every expedition and being involved in each step of the plan. Her enthusiasm appears innocent enough, even if her obstinance about catching Leto alive can get a little grating... but sometimes, you get the feeling that she’s watching you a little too closely.

Yevaud: At first, you can’t believe your eyes. A talking... dragon? But Yevaud appears as human and intelligent as any of you, even if he doesn’t seem surprised by the Fodlaners’ shock. The other Morfisians treat him with respect and fondness, almost like an old friend or family member. He doesn’t claim to have any interest in this hunt, but doesn’t mind answering your questions.

Estarriol: Questions about who he exactly is and what his role is in Morfis, as well as what the Tower is for, are all answered indirectly, sometimes conflicting, until you’re not sure how much is truth or what to believe, if anything at all. But he’s shown you his magic, and it’s beyond anything you’ve ever seen. So the rumors about Morfis are true after all... If anyone has the answer to getting past Leto’s defenses, it’s probably him.

Mission Task Board

Preparation at Garreg Mach

Before setting out to Morfis, it might be a good chance to learn a little more about where you’re going. Stories of the place abound, but if you’re going there, it’s best to be prepared. The library would be a good start, or maybe you can ask around. There’s got to be something someone knows, somewhere, more than just dazzling stories...

It’s only been a couple days since the address by the academy heads, but already new chaos has gripped the monastery. The envoy from the Sreng outpost was found dead early in the morning, his body heavily mutilated by what seems to be dark magic and left at the monastery gates. Who would do this?

The Hunt for Leto

Estarriol insists that the key to defeating Leto lies in the Caedaein Catacombs far beneath the city outskirts. The Lich King’s coffin is said to contain a weapon of incredible, inconceivable power, but nothing of incredible, inconceivable power is ever easy to get. You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of test... or worse.

Your pursuit of Leto leads you to the shore of the island. The screech of dragons draw your eyes upward and indeed there they are: Yevaud and the serpent Leto are fighting in the sky. Drops of green blood fall to the ground – Yevaud seems to have the upper hand. Less work for you, right? Until you realize that your ticket out of Morfis is dependent on Leto being captured alive.

There have already been several stories of people wandering off, drawn by the sound of Leto’s cries, indiscernible from those of a human in terrible suffering. They’ve never returned. The Mage Society’s theory is that something about the Beast’s cries mesmerizes the mind and ensnares one’s willpower. So in order to even approach it, you need to learn a warding spell to protect your psyche. [Grants Reason +1]

Weeks and weeks of dead ends, false leads, and narrow escapes have led to this. Finally, you have the Cardinal Beast cornered. The final showdown is here, except you realize that Leto has one last defense: her nature is that of a magic suppressant, meaning physical weapons are the only way to subdue her. Will you capture her for Morfis in the end, or kill her? [Grants Any Skill +1]

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I only thread with my teammates?

‘The Hunt for Leto’ tasks, as well as any threads taking place en route to or within Morfis, can only be written with your teammates. ‘Preparation at Garreg Mach’ tasks, or any threads taking place pre-departure at the monastery, can be written with anyone.

These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?

Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads.

How do I claim the skill points?

In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed. You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.

Can I only do one task?

Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim any skill points once.

What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?

If the dropped thread has at least 5 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.

My muse has ties to this location. Will this affect any of my headcanons?

All worldbuilding has been written to have little to any relation to playable muses. However, we understand that there are certain muses that have ties to these locations. Anything written by the mods is only for the enjoyment of the event and the benefit of our participants. Embrace, refute, or ignore what you’d like! It’s your city regardless of what team you end up being on or whether or not you choose to participate.

#toa mission #toaarcadia2019

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the-marvel-imagines-blog · 5 years

Text

Madness | Chpt. 13

Requests are Open

Chapter Title: “Once Upon the 40′s”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,850

Warnings: ???

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

Summary: Eva recalls her past with Loki and runs into some very familiar faces along the way, faces she’s never been able to forget.

A/N: Like I’ve stated previously, I’m taking a lot of creative liberties with this fic, and I hope you understand. I’m definitely taking more within the following chapters. Thank you all for being so patient. Once again, I’ve heard a lot of really good theories about what might happen next, so I’m definitely excited to hear what you guys think of the story going forward. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this fic, and all I can do is hope that it shows. You’re all so phenomenal. I love all of you so, so, so much. PLEASE NOTE: this will likely be my final time posting an update for this fic before Endgame is released. I have a few other oneshots that I will release throughout the week before Endgame. I know everyone has said it at this point, but PLEASE if you see the movie, do not spoil it for anyone. I heard about the recent leak, and I refuse to scroll through any forms of social media at this point. I got on here just to post, and I’ll be getting right off. If you do have spoilers already, I ask that you please not share them here <3 -Ellie

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny @xletmetaste-yoursmilex @itsknife2meetu @mynameisyara @j-j-ehlby-writes @jillilama-blog (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

“We’re still going dancing after this, right?” I asked, gazing up into his blue eyes that matched the color of the sky. Midgard was beautiful as it was, but he made the world around him that much more beautiful in my eyes. My dress-a material that matched the color of his eyes-swung around my knees as we walked toward the expo that Loki had been speaking of for weeks since our last trip to Midgard. He smiled down at me, his eyes still glistening with a hint of excitement that he always tried to hide whilst in the midst of his father. Odin never treated him fairly and always scrutinized when Loki was happy “for no reason.” He knew that he never had to hide any piece of himself from me, though, and that he need not even try. We had known each other for nearly a thousand years, ever since I could remember, and I knew everything there was to know about the young prince of Asgard.

He snickered, “would it be a trip to Midgard without a little dancing?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. Dancing was something we always did when we made any trips to Midgard, regardless of what our trip was for in the first place. Loki was born with a grace and talent for dancing, and it showed in the way he moved. He walked with the same purpose and grace as he did when he danced, and that paled in comparison to the way he held me when we danced. The only thing it could be compared to was the way he held me at night after we spent hours rediscovering one another in the most intimate ways. Those were some of my favorite moments with him, when we were both so vulnerable to each other, but we were comfortable with it because we knew that our insecurities, our fears, our needs would never be exploited by the other. We trusted each other implicitly, and that would never change.

I smirked, remembering the one time that we didn’t go dancing. Loki had been so tired after the full day of mingling and running about the garden with me that we cancelled our plans to be at the wedding and celebrations of Mary, who I had taken a liking to for her fiery attitude, and Francis. Mary was beautiful and gentle, but she was also regal with a sharp-tongue, which was something I admired her for greatly, especially as she grew older. I visited her often with Loki, looking after her as if she were my own. Loki often admired her for being powerful in the face of adversity. People were reluctant to seeing a woman upon the throne, but Loki and I had seen too much to hold prejudice against someone simply because she was a woman. It was a terrible shame when we discovered what happened to her. Still, she had never let us forget that we missed her wedding, often bringing it up lightly to tease Loki and I, “do you remember the 50’s?” I asked, reminding him of a time that didn’t seem that long ago, a time that felt simpler in a way. We could spend hours running through the courtyard of the tudor style home Loki had built for us. It was our place to escape to when we left Asgard.

“Almost 400 years, and you still bring up that one time,” he reminisced, a smile breaking out across his face. I watched the memories dance across his mind, gazing up at him as I longed to revisit our old life. We had always been happy, but the days seemed to move slower then. We could just exist together. He drew himself closer to me, his face growing closer and closer to my ear. I could feel his warm breath cascade across my neck, “perhaps I can make it up to you later tonight?” he whispered, his voice low and smooth as velvet.

“Loki!” I gasped, pushing his chest in a playful manner. He began laughing, and the sound was like music to my ears. There had never been another song more beautiful than the laughter of my love. I stifled my own laughter, not wanting to draw attention from the passersby, but I couldn’t help the smile which tugged at my lips. I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing that he wanted to get that reaction out of me, “you won’t have any of your fun unless you take me dancing. If you back out, you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” I teased him, accepting the challenge to see which one of us would back down first. He rarely brought it up if he wasn’t fairly confident that he would win, but I knew how to beat him, how to make him tick. I loved winning for the simple fact that I loved watching Loki blush.

“I know what to do to get you to sleep on that couch with me, darling. I know how to make you quiver,” he murmured, his voice resembling a growl, causing my most primal urges to bubble up to the surface. I gripped his arm tighter as we continued to walk. He traced a slender finger of his free hand along the skin of mine, and I shivered beneath his touch. I found his eyes once more to see that he looked hungry, as if he were eyeing his prey, “you should enjoy that pretty blue dress because I’m going to have fun tearing it off of you later,” he remarked as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

“Watch what happens to you if you tear my dress,” I challenged him, cocking my eyebrow at him.

“You should watch your tongue, my love,” he chuckled, thinking that he won the unspoken challenge, that I had somehow run out of ways to make him blush.

I didn’t.

Without missing a beat, I veered off into an alleyway that left us barely visible to the passersby. No one would take notice of the two of us, especially since we knew how to blend in with the general public for the time period we found ourselves in when we travelled to Midgard. I pressed Loki against the stone wall, taking care not to hurt him as I held him against the cool surface. I leaned in close to him, allowing him to shiver with anticipation. I brought our faces as close together as they could be without partaking in a kiss that would relieve so much of the tension we were both feeling. I leaned into his ear, my breath hitting his neck. I grew close enough so that my lips brushed ever so lightly against his ear, and I felt him tremble beneath me, “you want me to watch my tongue? Make me,” I whispered before removing myself completely from his space just in time to see the color rise to his cheeks.

I won.

The moment he lunged for me, ready to admit defeat and ravage me with kisses, I pulled away from him and walked back out toward the street. That was part of the fun. We knew each other well enough to know what made the other tick. I knew how to get under his skin, and he knew how to get under mine. I knew that not allowing him to kiss me was my way of building up that tension. The lust within him would continue burning until we were alone that night, until I was able to lose myself in him and him in me. Before I could walk along the sidewalk alone, he resumed his place by my side, and I looped my arm through his once he offered it to me. We walked along, falling in perfect stride with one another, as if nothing had happened, but we would remember it later. The tension never died, but it just became like a smoldering fire, which would continue to burn until we extinguished it.

As we walked, we passed by a man and woman, and I noticed the rings on their fingers, symbolizing their eternal love, which was something Loki and I had talked about from time to time. The woman was pushing a baby carriage, and within it, there was a baby who looked no older than 3 months. He was dressed in a little blue outfit that matched his blue eyes. His hair was light, and his skin was fair, much like Thor’s. I smiled into the carriage, feeling my heart flip within my chest as my sudden urges came to light once more. I could feel Loki tense up next to me, and I knew why. It was something we had only talked about briefly, but I knew he wanted that life just as much as I did. His grip on me tightened, and I could feel his eyes lingering on me, so I turned my gaze up to meet his. He smiled down at me so sweetly, just like he used to when we first fell in love. The thoughts crossed his mind, and he didn’t even need to say a single word because I could always read him like an open book, “You know what my answer would be,” I stated, grasping his arm with my free hand. We had already been in the stage of our relationship where we wanted to get married, but we were also coming to the stage where we were both thinking about what would come next: a family.

He sighed, gazing once more at the baby in the carriage before gazing back down at me, “father has always treated me poorly, and he’s never been particularly kind to you. I can’t imagine what he would think of our…” he trailed off, his eyes beginning to water as soon as he even thought of the word. It was a difficult thing for either of us to think about. I was abandoned by my parents, and Odin never treated Loki as one of his own from the very beginning.

“Children, Loki,” I finished for him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze to regain his attention. Once his mind wandered, so did his eyes. Once our eyes locked, I knew that he was focused on me, “they would be our children and ours alone,” I reminded him, wanting him to understand what I had already accepted. I didn’t have to follow in my mother’s footsteps, and I wouldn’t. I would love my children endlessly, and I would never abandon them, not like my parents did to me. Loki’s fears and insecurities were justified because he was terrified of being the father to our children that his father was to him. As upsetting as it was to think that he was self-conscious about failing our future children, I always silenced his doubts about everything as soon as they arose, “you would be the most incredible father, in spite of how you were treated by your own father.”

Once I said my piece, he fell absolutely silent. I gazed up at him, trying desperately to decipher him. There were moments when he was an open book to me, but there were others where he was like a puzzle with dozens of pieces missing, and I became more and more stressed because I couldn’t figure it out. There was the alternative method of reading his mind, his thoughts, but that was something I saved for only the most dire circumstances. He was my lover, my soulmate, my best friend, not my experiment. I couldn’t just pull apart his mind whenever I felt like it to get answers to a question I didn’t want to bother him with. It was my job to read him as any woman would read her love, the way I had read Loki all along. When our eyes met, I knew exactly what he was thinking, as if it were painted across his blue eyes. He was picturing them. A wide smile spread across my face, “the first one would be a little girl, a little princess. I imagine her with your hair, wild and unruly and black as a shadow at night,” I murmured, my eyes flickering between his.

He snickered, “my hair is not unruly!” he defended himself, acting as if he had been terribly offended at my comments about his wild and unruly hair, which it was.

I cocked an eyebrow, ready to challenge him, “have I simply imagined the times when you struggle to brush it out and keep it in place in the morning?” I asked, a sly grin taking over the smile on my lips, “have I imagined the dozens of times when you beg me to brush it because only I can undo the tangled mess that you manage to get it into throughout the night? You always go to sleep with perfect, silky, beautiful hair-and I know because I brush it and look after it-but you wake up the next morning as if you fought four wars all on your own in the middle of the night,” I teased him, grinning up at the man who owned every piece of my heart. We hadn’t lost that spark between us. Sure, we argued with each other and had our fair share of disagreements, but we had been together for hundreds of years, so we knew how to make it work through all of that. Still, no matter what, I always looked at him as the boy I fell in love with. I still got butterflies when I talked to him. I still blushed when he paid me a compliment or looked at me for a prolonged period of time. I still giggled when he called me beautiful.

“That’s only because of you!” he argued, raising his voice only slightly. He wouldn’t yell at me, but he was clearly trying to defend his wild and messy hair. Whenever I closed my eyes and imagined our future children, though, they always had his hair. My hair was dark, but his was exceptionally dark. His hair was darker than the forest on a dark night when the stars didn’t even shine through the trees. The darkness would envelope me, and I wouldn’t be able to see my hands had they been directly in front of my face. Each of our future children, as I saw them, had his wild hair. It would fall in curls, and they would all wear it the way he did: long. His light chuckle pulled me from my daydream, “you keep me up far too late, or have I simply imagined the times I’ve nearly fallen asleep at the breakfast table with my mother?”

My mouth hung agape as I recalled one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, “that-!” I stammered, trying to find a way to defend myself. It was true that it was my doing which left him embarrassed at the breakfast table with Frigga, and it was the moment she understood how deep our relationship was, how serious we were about each other, “that happened one time, and it was only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me the way you are right now!” I blamed him with a smirk as our eyes met once more. Mine danced along his face before I lost myself in the oceans of blue that pooled up against the dark pupils of his eyes, like land masses that felt like home.

His eyes flickered between mine, and his smile fell. The solemnity that overcame his feature worried me for a moment as I wondered if I had gone too far; however, when I saw the tears well up in his eyes, I knew that he was thinking about them. He thought about them just as often as I did, even though he didn’t like to admit it, “they would have your eyes,” he murmured, pulling me closer to him, “a green that matched the colors of spring when the land is reborn after the cold winter, a green that feels like the warm breeze in the middle of the forest when it ripples through the leaves, a green that feels like home. They would wear that same look in their eyes, too. They would have that determination and ferocity but also the love and appreciation of life and all living things. They would have your nose, your cheekbones...your laugh because Gods know there is nothing sweeter or more poetic and beautiful than the sound of your laugh,” he said, tearing up at the thought of our future children. I knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he would be the best father to our children, and I knew because he loved them already, just like I did.

I stopped completely, not wanting him to focus on anything but me. I reached up and grasped his chin in my hand before turning his head until our eyes met, “I have told you for hundreds of years that all you have to do is ask me, and I’ll be yours for the rest of eternity, Loki,” I reminded him, knowing that all he would have to do is ask for my hand, and I would accept his offer in a heartbeat. He didn’t have to write a speech or plan an elaborate proposal because he was the only thing that mattered.

“I’m just worried that I could never be able to offer you all that you want in life,” he murmured, his eyes acting as windows into his very soul. I knew that he always felt unworthy of me, of the love I gave to him, like he didn’t deserve me. It was the same way I felt at certain times in our relationship, when I wondered why someone who could have anyone or anything he wanted would choose me. He always silenced those doubts, and I did the same with him.

I shook my head, “all I want is you,” I insisted once more, grasping his hand in my own as I gazed up into those uncertain blue eyes, “I want to marry you and start a family. I want to see you with our baby, to watch you hold him or her, to watch you fall in love with the way they laugh, the way they dance, the way they look at you. I want to raise children with you, however many we decide. I want to get up early in the morning and rock our baby to sleep and be reminded that they are the product of the two of us, that we created something that was bigger than ourselves, that our love created life,” I reminded him, my eyes stinging with the hot tears as I thought of a life we had yet to begin. I watched as his eyes brimmed with tears, and I gave his hand a gentle squeeze “we’ve been together for hundreds of years, and you have given me all that I could ever want and all I could ever need, but that is the one thing that’s missing. I want that life with you and no one else,” I finished, stepping closer to him.

“That’s what you want?” he asked, his focus becoming firm, and I knew that he would be focusing on picking out any hints that I was being dishonest, as if I would even try to with him after so long together.

I nodded, “it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

He nodded once, continuing to gaze down at me. Upon seeing that I wasn’t trying to mislead him, his gaze lightened, and he gathered me in his arms in one swift motion. I gasped at the sudden and unexpected action, but before I could speak, his lips crushed mine, silencing whatever words I was about to utter. He kept my body pressed to his firmly but not aggressively. His hold on me was all encompassing as his right arm snaked around my waist, arching my body into his. The fingers of his left hand caressed my cheek and jaw, holding me steady as we kissed. The moment he pulled his lips from mine, it was as if my very breath left with him. Luckily, he didn’t let go of me, or I was sure I would have fallen to the ground. He pulled his head back only slightly to take in my reaction to what just happened, but I had no words, no emotion to give. He took my breath away with that kiss, and it felt like we were at the very beginning of our courtship once more, like we were still naive lovers who saw nothing but one another.

Without warning, he began laughing lightly at what had just transpired. Had we put our love on full display in the streets of Asgard, Odin would have forced the two of us away from each other. It would have been improper for him and unladylike for me. However, on Midgard, people seemed to pass by without taking much notice. Of course, I could still feel eyes on us because it was still a rarity, but we would not be punished for a kiss. I saw, once more, the boy I fell in love with, my Loki. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to contain my laughter once he began laughing. Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heel and pulled him along, “come on, love. We don’t want to miss the expo. It’s the whole reason we came here,” I reminded him as we walked toward the crowds of people.

Upon reaching the large groups of people, we began making our way to the front of the stage in the pavillion where we saw the most commotion. Everyone was talking, and the buzzing of life around me left me with a euphoric feeling in my chest. Warmth spread from the depths of my chest all throughout my body, leaving me gasping for the sweet air to fill my needy lungs. I loved the sensation of life, the vibrations of the energy around me. Loki’s hand found mine, and he intertwined our finger, his fear of large groups becoming more and more clear. Whenever he needed to find his footing once more, he reached out to me, and I was always there. His grip on my hand tightened whenever the noise in the pavillion increased, and I accommodated it by pulling the two of us closer together. I knew where his fear and anxiety stemmed from, and I would always comfort him when that was what he needed.

Once we reached the front of the stage, we watched as young women in matching outfits lined up in front of a car. Shortly after Loki and I took our place, another man with two young women at his side broke through the crowd and stood beside Loki and I. The man in the group was tall and built like a warrior. I took note of the uniform that seemed to hang from his broad shoulders and knew that he was one of Midgard’s soldiers. He smiled up at the stage as the two girls beside him began conversing amongst themselves in their excitement for what was to unfold. Trailing behind them was a smaller man, but I could feel the vibrations within me begin to grow stronger and stronger the closer he grew to me, and I just knew there was something about him, something I couldn’t place my finger on. Our souls were connected somehow, similarly to how mine was connected to the souls of Loki, Ephinea, Hjalmar, and my father. I didn’t even know his name, but I knew his soul.

The taller of the two men glanced over at me, a playfulness in his eyes that matched Loki’s, and I knew that it was a light the world so desperately needed. He smiled down at me, though I was only slightly shorter than him, “good evening, ma’am,” he greeted me with a tip of his hat before turning his attention to Loki and doing the same, “sir,” he greeted politely, causing the God of Mischief to bow his head in a friendly greeting.

I stepped closer to the young man, breaking away from Loki’s side and feeling a chill run through my body at the sudden lack of warmth he brought me, “you can call me Eva, and this is Loki. He’s not much of a talker until you mention literature,” I laughed, gesturing over to Loki before offering my hand.

The soldier took it and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. I knew it was what was considered respectful and courteous at the time. Loki still did it to me when we were in the company of others. The soldier lifted his head and released my hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Eva,” he stated before turning his attention over to Loki once more and sticking out his hand for him to take, “Loki...that’s not a common name,” he noted, trying out the name on his tongue.

Loki chuckled, “I’m not a common man,” he replied as he took the soldier’s hand and shook it.

“The name’s James, but most people just call me Bucky,” the soldier finally introduced himself before turning to the shorter man beside him, “and this is Steve, he’s like my unruly, rebellious sidekick who likes to look for trouble,” he teased his friend with a wide smile.

I smiled and stepped closer to the newly introduced stranger, “it’s nice to meet you, Steve,” I replied, reaching my hand out. Instead of taking it and kissing it, he just gave it a quick shake, and I could tell that he was nervous about the sudden introductions. The moment our hands touched, an electric current surged through my body, as if a piece of his very essence was transferred to me and a piece of mine was transferred to him. It was a strange occurrence, an event that had only happened a small handful of times in the past, but it always forged a powerful connection to the person it happened with. The energy surged through me as I felt his essence intertwine with mine, pieces of our souls coming together to form one. I wondered, for a moment, if he felt the same thing or something similar, and the sudden wonder in his eyes told me that he had experienced it as well.

He tried to shake off the awkward silence between us, his cheeks becoming flushed, “So, where are you two from? Your accents sound...foreign,” he asked, trying to propel the conversation forward after a powerful experience we both shared.

“Smooth,” Bucky teased him as he gazed up at the stage that was continuing to be prepared.

I smiled, “it’s alright. We’re from Westminster in England,” I lied, recalling a place Loki and I had visited dozens of times in the past. It’s not like I could tell him the truth, that Loki and I were from a completely different realm altogether, that there was life beyond Midgard. They would discover our existence at some point during the course of humanity, but it didn’t need to be today, “what about you? Where are you from?”

“Brooklyn,” he answered with a kind smile. It was clear that not many people gave him the time of day, but I wanted to. I wanted to learn everything about him because I was certain he would play a large part in my life. He gestured between Loki and I, “and you two are...married?” he asked, and I could sense the boyish bashfulness rising within him.

Bucky snickered, “wow, how subtle,” he teased Steve again.

“Not yet,” Loki answered before I had the chance to speak.

I furrowed my eyebrows at his confession, taken aback by his answer. Steve and Bucky raised their eyebrows as well, but I knew that their surprise came from the forwardness of it. They didn’t know Loki like I did. I knew that he was rather bold, but I just never expected that answer because I didn’t know if he truly wanted to marry me the same way I did him. We had been together for hundreds of years, the better part of a millenia, and he still hadn’t asked me to marry him. I cocked an eyebrow, “should I be expecting a question soon, or will I be waiting another thousand years?” I asked, teasing him about how long it had already taken him.

Bucky and Steve both laughed in unison, thinking that I was exaggerating the length of time I had been waiting. It was only slightly exaggerated, since our thousand year milestone wouldn’t happen for another 67 years. Loki’s grin at me caused my heart to flutter as I thought of how and when he would do it. After a short amount of banter between the four of us, Loki and Bucky began having their own conversation, leaving Steve and I with a comfortable silence that fell between the two of us. As we gazed up at the stage together in anticipation for the upcoming show that was sure to be put on, I could feel his eyes on me. Loki made a habit of doing the same thing early in our childhood, before he even began courting me, but it remained something he did even after so long together. He would always watch me. It was never in a way that made me uncomfortable, but it was the same reason I watched him, to memorize every little piece of him, how the rays of the sun sat so delicately upon his eyelashes, how his slender fingers would swim through his raven black hair when he pushed it back into place, how every smile started at one corner of his mouth, how the tears rimmed his perfect blue eyes whenever he read something I wrote for him, or how his eyebrows pulled together in fascination whenever he looked at me. I committed every piece of him to memory just in case there was a day when he wasn’t mine, when his body returned home. Though I wished for us to meet our end together, I knew that one of us would outlive the other, and my selfish dream was that he would be the one to do so. I couldn’t bear a life without him, so even if he went before me, I wouldn’t be far behind.

As I felt Steve’s eyes on me, I also felt the familiar warmth of Loki’s gaze as well. His conversation with Bucky had become a conversation about me, and my suspicions were confirmed when I felt the unfamiliar eyes of the soldier on me again. I glanced over at Steve in an attempt to keep myself from blushing at the attention that I was getting. As soon as I turned my head to interact with Steve, our eyes connected, and a blush rose to his cheeks almost immediately. It was exactly what happened when Loki and I first began our relationship. He would be caught in the act of studying me, and his cheeks would flush with color in his bashfulness. It became less of an occurrence the longer we were together, but there were times when it presented itself once more. Steve glanced down at the ground, trying to seem like he wasn’t watching me only seconds prior. I smiled to myself, thinking about how endearing it was, but what he did next was even more shocking and endearing. He extended his hand with the paper bag filled with popcorn in an attempt to offer some to me.

That was the moment I knew.

That was the single moment I figured out exactly who Steve was, almost as if I could see straight into his very soul. It was one of the purest, most beautiful things I had ever seen in all my life. The innocence and innate goodness he had within him made me want to cry. There were only a handful of moments in my life that left me so emotionally overwhelmed, whether by the sheer beauty I witnessed or sorrow I felt, that left me unable to contain my tears. That was one of those moments. It felt like Steve and I were just made to find our way to one another, like we were created for the soul purpose to run into each other at some point, but the reason was unclear. With Loki, our bond with each other was clear, but with Steve, I didn’t understand it. Why us? Why him? As I tried to sort through it, he maintained his outstretched hand. I gave a polite nod and collected a few of the pieces of popcorn, maintaining eye contact with him and trying to suppress the smile that only continued to grow on my face.

Knowing that the only way to silence the parade of questions through my mind was to talk to him, I ate the popcorn in my hand and spoke, “what are you doing out here on a night like tonight? What brings you to the expo?” I asked, looking for any way to stop falling into a platonic type of love with him. It was the strangest, most unexpected feeling, but I could feel the love within me growing for him with every passing second. It was as if my soul recognized his, and I couldn’t help it.

He shrugged his shoulders, “well, it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man before he ships out. You know, he’s my best friend in the world, so when he wanted me to come out, how could I say no?” he asked, trying to minimize his act of kindness toward his friend. He forced himself to be uncomfortable just to make his friend happy. That was love, pure and untainted love. I smiled as he continued, “it’s not really my cup of tea, though. I’m not really into crowds, but I know it’ll make Bucky happy.”

Nodding my head, I reached out and grasped his arm, “everyone needs someone like that in their lives. He’s lucky to have you.”

He shook his head, not fully convinced by my words, “I think it’s the other way around. I’d be nowhere without Bucky. He’s the only family I have left after my mom died. He’s like a brother to me. I owe him everything. The least I could do was come out with him tonight,” he spoke, his voice soft and full of sincerity. Suddenly, a wide smile formed on his lips and he cast his gaze to the ground once more as a blush overcame his cheeks, “I mean, I got to meet you out of the deal, so it wasn’t all bad,” he complimented me with a quivering voice before trying to laugh off his clear embarrassment. I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I realized just how genuine the compliment was, and I couldn’t help but step closer to him. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, and I didn’t take his compliment as a flirtatious one; all I wanted was to feel closer to the warmth his very essence provided. He was like the light of the sun-all encompassing, bright, and warm.

Before I could respond to Steve’s remark, the voice of a female announcer silenced the crowd, “ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!” she announced, her voice leaving the audience even more lively than before. As the crowd began to cheer and applaud, the man who I presumed to be Howard Stark, the man of the hour, sauntered onto the stage wearing a tuxedo, a top hat, and a grin. The women on the stage all presented him, holding their arms out as he passed by them. One of the brunette girls stepped out of line to take his hat and trade off the microphone she had in her hand. As he took it, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close before pressing his lips to hers in a quick, suggestive kiss. Once he wiped the lipstick from his lips, he spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing throughout the calming crowd, “ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The two girls Bucky and Steve arrived with were two of the many people in the audience who covered their mouths and gasped. Loki and I shot a knowing glance at one another that this was no new technology to us, as Asgardians had perfected similar technology so long ago. However, it was a remarkable achievement for Midgardians to be making. I turned my gaze back at Howard Stark as the women who once stood in front of the car pulled the wheels off of it and walked away with them. He glanced out at the audience, holding the microphone up to his lips, “with Stark gravitic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that,” he promised before stepping aside and allowing everyone in the audience a clear view of the spectacle that was about to take place. With the flip of a switch and the press of a button, the car began hovering above the stage with a gentle hum. I glanced around at the small group I was with to see that everyone wore looks of pure astonishment at the idea of flying cars. No matter how advanced our technology was, Loki was still impressed by the humans, just as I was. They showed great promise, and that was one of the many reasons why we swore to protect them.

Howard’s eyes scanned the crowd as he looked truly proud of what he had accomplished. I watched him intently as everyone else watched the car. All I could do was study how his pride grew more and more as he witnessed what kind of reactions he could elicit with his own genius. Suddenly, without warning, his eyes connected with mind, and his scanning of the audience stopped as those brown orbs focused on me. They felt familiar, like we had met before, like I knew him from another lifetime. I sensed something within these humans that felt surreal, like I could have been dreaming it. I had such an intense connection already to Steve, and I knew Bucky on a level that should have been impossible, given that we had only spoken a handful of words to one another. Then, there was Howard. All we shared was a prolonged moment of eye contact, but something within me came to life in that moment, and I knew that this would be the beginning of something. What that something was, though, I had no clue. All I knew was that Howard and I-like Steve and I, or like Bucky and I-would be bound by a silken cord that was strong as a chain of steel that would never break.

The one thing that pulled our gaze from each other was the sudden crash that came from behind him, and my eyes found the car now on the floor where it had once been hovering over. The crowd gasped but slowly started to clap, and I did the same. It was a true accomplishment, regardless of how long the car managed to hover. He was the first Midgardian to discover that technology, and while there was no way he would be the last to tamper with it, he made waves on that night. He chuckled into the microphone, laughing off his “failure” before speaking, “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” he asked, his eyes flickering to mine again before winking at me.

As the expo continued, Howard showed off more impressive technology that he was working on, but nothing was more impressive than his persistence, considering he didn’t even know who I was. Every chance he got, it seemed like he caught my gaze, and the playfulness would sneak into his brown orbs. I could sense a childlike wonder about him, something I hadn’t experienced much, especially not with the Midgardians. However, Howard seemed to exude those playful, childlike qualities just as much as his confidence and self-assured attitude. Once Howard’s portion of the expo was finished and the crowd applauded him, I felt the sudden absence of Steve’s warmth as he broke away from the group without a word. I wondered to myself if something had happened that upset him, or if he just needed to be alone. Bucky smiled to himself, “hey, Steve, what do you say we treat these girls to…” his voice trailed off as he turned around to see that Steve was no longer present. He sighed to himself, and I could sense his distress. I knew that he only wanted a night with his friend, especially considering the hell he was about to walk into.

Then, there were screams.

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authoressskr · 6 years

Text

Slightly

Characters: Supernatural!Reader, Gabriel, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Annie (Female Demon), 5 Nameless Unintelligent Demon Dudes :: Warnings: NSFW (Just A Smidge), Language, Sarcasm :: Word Count: 2535

This was written for my 400+ Celebration!! Request your own here!!

This was written for @nobodys-baby-now, who requested Gabriel x Reader, Enemies to Lovers trope <3 This one is all yours, sweetie!

Note: Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

With a silent raise of your eyebrow, you glower at the four men tied up below you before sighing.

Demons. You scoff mentally. But they aren’t totally stupid. Prepared for Gabriel after all.

A small sigh escapes, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Fuck. Seven demons re-enter the room, spreading out to cover all exits in twos.

The designated demon douche leader steps forward, waving an angel blade at Dean as he began his meaningless rant.

“Monologuing is so outdated.” You mutter, flashing down behind the demon, letting him turn around with a snarl before shoving the angel blade in your grip deep into his side and angling up, watching the flash of his eyes before he slumped to the floor. The other six move almost in sync, a step towards you as their eyes go black. “That’s cute.”

Turning, you glance back at Gabriel. “You owe me big time, you asshole.” Gabriel’s face is a controlled mix of smug and rage, eyes nearly molten gold and you can feel them boring into you even as you turn to address the encroaching demons.

“We don’t know who you are, bitch -”

“That’s the point, dumbass.” You snap out, dropping to one knee as two demons lunged, throwing off their attack as you swung your leg out in a wide sweep, knocking them to their knees before pulling a second angel blade from your jacket and shoving them into the two demons. The one closest to the warehouse’s old loading dock turned tail, prompting you to withdraw your gun and shoot the man with a roll of your eyes. “Seriously? You can’t all really be that stupid.” Another demon takes off running towards the front door, your finger squeezing the trigger to take him down as well.

Turning on your heel, you face the last two demons, two angel blades in one hand and the gun held loosely at your side. “Now, sir, madam… let’s hope you are smarter than the others.” The man nodded eagerly while the woman tried to muster up a glare. You tuck the gun into the back of your jeans, then put one blade into your inner jacket pocket, repeating the motion with the other blade in the opposite pocket.

“Okie dokie.” You turn towards the Winchesters, wrapped in chains beside the small ring of holy fire that held Gabriel and Castiel. You free the Winchesters with a wave of your hand, taking Sam’s now empty chair and dragging it forward. “Don’t move.” You advise the brothers over your shoulder, settling into the hard metal chair to stare at the demons.

“Weeeellllll, I came here for some information. Information I know your little group was privy to.” Crossing your legs and relaxing in the chair, you offer them a smile. “So, spill.” The demons exchange a look.

“We want an assurance we leave this building alive.” The female demon states, straightening her spine.

“Of course! I am nothing if not fair.”

“Your word.” She pushes.

“I give you two my word. You will leave this building alive.”

“Alright. What information do you want?”

“I’d like to know what demons are doing en masse in California and Oregon.”

“We got word from the higher-ups that there were several magical artifacts buried in the forests in and around California, Oregon, and Washington.”

“And?” You draw out, leaning forward a tad as you raise an eyebrow.

“And?” The male finally speaks up, mild confusion dancing through his eyes.

“I think it’s better if you stay quiet since you don’t seem to be the brightest bulb of this outfit, alright sweetie. Good.” You shift your gaze subtly back to the woman. “Did. You. Find. Them?”

“No.” She shakes her head, frowning. “No. The forests in Washington were too thick, and the ones in California were semi-warded, so we shifted our focus to the Oregon forests by the border of each adjoining state.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Annie?” The demon seems startled, her eyes flashing black quickly.

“No, uh, no.”

“Coming into someone’s areas, unannounced and unwelcome, is often frowned upon, Annie.” You uncross your legs and stand. “Those forests are mine. My father gifted them to me. You uprooted my trees, broke my wards, and interfered into things that slimy little demons don’t need to stick their noses into.” You raise your hand as the man barked out, “NO!”

“You said you would let us leave alive!” Dropping your hand, you smile.

“I did. I gave my word.” Heaving a sigh, you move back towards the Winchesters and the angels. “Go on, then.” The two take off running, the Winchesters moving along beside you, staring towards where the demons had disappeared.

“What did you do that for?” Dean snaps, turning his glare onto you.

“I gave my word.” You say simply, shrugging as you break the ring of holy fire and unchain Castiel from where he was. Castiel moves to stand beside the Winchesters before you bend down and pulling a match from your pocket, reignite the ring around Gabriel.

“I hope they destroyed a shit load of your precious trees, Y/N.” He snarls from his bindings, once molten eyes now hardened.

“The forest regrows.”

“How could you let them go?!” Dean snarls again, grabbing your upper arm and turning you from where you’d been facing Gabriel towards himself.

“Don’t worry, the man is dead, and the woman is trapped. They both escaped the building safely like I told them they would. Once free of the warehouse, anything is possible.”

“What are you?” Sam questioned, peering into your eyes.

“Half-Avalonian, half-faerie,” Gabriel reveals with a too-cheery smile, knowing Dean’s hatred of faerie.

“Dammit,” Dean mutters, releasing his hold on your arm. Smoothing out the jacket before pushing your hair over your shoulder, you smile brightly at all the three men in front of you.

“You’re welcome,” Your voice echoes in the room, disappearing just seconds later, staying hidden back in your original spot upstairs.

“I say we leave him here.” Dean begins decidedly, staring at Gabriel still bound in the ring.

“Dean.” Sam chastises.

“What? He’s the one who said the demons here were up to something. Led us right into a trap. AND he obviously knows that woman.” Cas’s gaze shifts from Dean to Gabriel.

“Do we need to follow after her, Gabriel?”

“Nah.” Gabriel shifts in his bindings, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifts subtly downward to his bonds. “Y/N keeps mostly to herself. Unless you really piss her off. She tends to actually be the most level-headed of her moronic family.” Glaring down at Gabriel at his words about your family. You don’t talk shit about his fucked-up family, now do you?

“Have you “really” pissed her off lately?” Castiel asks, air quotes nearly making you giggle.

“No.” You scoff. He’d been the one to come raid your forest a good week before the damn demons. All three freed men stare at Gabriel who, after a long pause. “Alright. I may have been the one whom the demons followed into her forest.”

“Jesus,” Sam mutters, swiping a hand over his mouth and down his chin followed by a heavy sigh. Dean and Sam exchange a look of concentration, eyes conveying a silent conversation that you found fascinating. “Okay, Gabe, you gotta tell us if she’s your enemy or not.”

“Nooo, what we need to know is if she’s going to come after us because you’re a dumbass of epic proportions.” Dean’s waving his hand as he talks, lips slightly pursed as he locks eyes with Gabriel.

“Slightly,” Gabriel says finally, with a slight purse of his own lips.

Sam and Dean exchange a look.

“Slightly isn’t an answer, Gabriel.” Castiel huffs out, eyeing the ring of fire.

“We’re slightly discordant. I wouldn’t say enemy.”

“She freed me then reignited the holy fire. And called you an asshole.” Castiel argues.

Dean scoffs, “Who wouldn’t?” Gabriel shoots him a dirty look. “Well, as far as ex’s go, she seems a lot nicer than Kali.”

“I never dated Y/N.”

“Ahh.” Sam nods, his lips turning up at Gabriel’s admission.

“I could have if I wanted,” Your eyes widen as Gabriel shrugs, a hint of a knowing smile gracing his lips. That bastard. “She’s not really my type.” Alright. That’s it.

Popping back into the ring of holy fire, you punch Gabriel directly in the throat, sending the archangel toppling backward in the old metal chair.

“As if you would be so lucky, you golden douche feathered jackass.” You snap out before disappearing completely, missing the wide smile stretched out on Gabriel’s face and the satisfied smiled on Dean’s.

:: - :: - ::

A flutter of wings draws your attention from your book, cuddled up in your nook as the gray clouds move slowly by.

“I knew you were there, ya know.” Gabriel begins, picking up a snow globe off a small table and giving it a shake, watching the white and gold flakes float through the liquid and lay on the miniature forest scene.

“Mmhmm.” You voice, returning to your book, tucking your feet more securely against your rear.

“Soo....how’ve you been?”

“Really, Gabriel? Small talk?” You sense his movements more than hear them, the archangel leaning against the wall adjoining the nook, never looking up from your tome.

“The boys were impressed with the restraint used to not stab me.”

“Humm.”

“Still pissed about the warehouse thing last month?” Silence. A light shuffling before a wand is dropped into your book, your eyebrow raising as you turn to face Gabriel. “How’d you know?”

“Know what?”

“Who I was. You’ve always looked at me differently, scoffed or rolled your eyes when people call me Trickster or Loki.”

“Why’d you take my aunt’s wand?” You counter, fingers brushing over the rowan wand with an almost imperceptible sigh.

“Needed it.”

“Yes. I suppose asking is something your entire pantheon isn’t too aware of.” Gabriel says nothing, just stares back at you with fathomless goldenrod eyes.

“Why haven’t we ever dated?” The question catches you off kilter, eyebrows shooting up.

“I know what you are, what you’ve done and what your family has done.” You stare down into those gilded depths, letting him see the truth to your statement. “Plus, you just want to play. Unlike most of my family, those sorts of games are tiring to me. Double words and hidden meanings aren’t something I want to constantly be involved in. You’re just more of the same.”

“Ouch, cupcake.” His hand flutters to his chest in mock hurt, wincing a little to sell it further.

A raise and drop of your shoulder is your only reply, pulling your eyes away with a tad of difficulty. A business card flutters down into your book, right atop the wand.

“The boys want to know if you’ll help if they need it.” He sits, well, drops onto the cushion beside you. “I told them your kind have rules about helping humans. Plus, as I’m sure you’re aware, they like that you punched me in the throat.”

“I know a lot of people who would like that,” Gabriel smirks and leans in, watching you like he’s searching for something.

“What can I say? I’m a popular guy.” He leans in as if to kiss you, invading your space before he freezes, wand tip pressed underneath his jaw. “I can give you a hell of a ride, sweetness.”

“I thought I was your enemy, angel.”

“Mmhmm. Slightly.”

“Then I suppose, since you’ve returned my property, I could slightly give in.” His eyebrows shoot up as you pull the wand away, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“Consider my interest piqued.” You tuck the wand into your book, carefully setting them onto a shelf behind you before moving into Gabriel’s lap. “Very piqued, sugar cube.” He mutters as you slide one hand up his chest, over his shoulder, and into his locks, feeling his chest expand under your other hand as his own hands settle on your waist.

Leaning in slowly, you pause just before your lips were to meet, golden eyes dancing with a question as to why you stopped.

“Then again…” You begin with a wicked smile. “You mentioned I wasn’t your type.” You disappear from his embrace, looking out the French doors just a half dozen feet away. “Besides, wouldn’t want you to believe I would want someone who thinks they can just have me.”

There isn’t any flutter of wings when he appears behind you, pressed fully against you, one arm strongly wrapped around your middle as his huff of breath moves your hair at the nape of your neck before he nuzzles against your throat through a curtain of hair.

“I love a challenge.” His voice is rougher than you expected, letting your head loll back against his shoulder as you meet his gaze.

“Sorry. I’m not Kali. I’m not a human fling. I won’t be giving in so easily.”

“That’s what is going to make it worth it.”

“Fuck you.” Gabriel waves away both of your clothes, his hands busy cupping your breasts as his Grace begins to buzz over your skin.

“Don’t mind if I do, sweetness.” He manages, a tendril of Grace shoving aside your hair so his mouth can ravage your neck and shoulder. Strangling a noise that nearly escapes as he ruts himself against your ass, all movement suddenly stopping from him. “Tell me you want this.” Gabriel turns you to face him, something lurking on the edge of those normally dancing gilded orbs.

A whisper escapes just after you see the uncertainty in his request, one you’d held inside for centuries. “I want you, Gabriel.” His eyes light up again, his shoulders minutely relaxing at your statement before one corner of his mouth tugs upward and you sigh at the cockiness. “Take it down a couple notches, buddy.”

“All these centuries of angry glares and friendly hatred -”

“Friendly hatred?” You repeat.

“And now, damn honey,” He licks his lips, letting his eyes take you in. “Every dirty thought I’ve had of you just came rushing back.”

“You have so many issues.” You cup his face in your hands and kiss him soundly, moving the short distance to press yourself against him, making him groan into your mouth. “What is it,” You whimper - not that you’ll admit to it later - as his Grace buzzes over your skin before it tugs and suckles at your nipples. “With you and women who don’t care for you from the get-go?” You gasp out before his mouth claims yours.

“Better sex.” He grunts, his right hand slipping down between your legs, enjoying the fact he pulled another gasp from you. “So. Much. Better. Sex. Honeysuckle.”

“There will be - uh - some conditions about this - fuck - relationship.” Gabriel moves his attention from stealing your breath with long kisses to bites and open-mouth kisses along your neck as his fingers pump into you.

“I’d love to hear them.” He groans against your skin, mouthing his way to your breasts, the Grace moving to find new places to attack. “But later. Much later.”

“Yeah.” You’re fighting for coherency as your legs tense, feeling him smile. “Later, fire feathers.”

Tagging: @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @sumara62 @clockworkmorningglory @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @whinywingedwinchester @chelsea072498 @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit

#Gabriel x reader #Gabriel x reader smut #authoressskr writes #authoressskr 400+ Celebration #supernatural reader insert #boom chica wow wow #enemies to lovers #nobodys-baby-now #gabe the babe #wanna hit him #then hit it #hit it real good #i'm not good with the smut #I tried tho #hope you enjoy it #400+ celebration

119 notes · View notes

waiting-for-my-hogwarts-letter · 2 years

Text

I posted 185 times in 2021

44 posts created (24%)

141 posts reblogged (76%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.2 posts.

I added 396 tags in 2021

#fanfiction - 89 posts

#ao3 - 62 posts

#julie and the phantoms - 49 posts

#original character - 38 posts

#jukebox - 31 posts

#my works - 30 posts

#obx - 27 posts

#outer banks - 24 posts

#fic: some are not meant to belong - 23 posts

#fic: mrs harrison’s coffee - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#and then gave them at least three chapters fully centered around their wedding and wedding related things

My Top Posts in 2021

Some Are Not Meant To Belong

Kiara x fem OC, mostly canon compliant

After almost a year of lawyers and hell, Becca “Beck” Chase is emancipated just in time to have a summer full of actual freedom. But just as it’s drawing to a close and there’s barely a month left before school, Beck and the other Pogues are running headlong into a high stakes, guns blazing treasure hunt.

Well, even if they don’t end up finding the gold from the Royal Merchant, at least she’s got her best friend JJ, and her barely concealed crush on Kie to keep her steady.

And if they do find the loot… well, that’s just a 400 million dollar bonus. Isn’t it?

Sure, there might be a couple of brushes with death along the way… but stupid things have good outcomes all the time, right?

OBX Season 1 Rewrite with OC Rebecca “Beck” Chase.

(link in reblog)

25 notes • Posted 2021-09-06 16:03:51 GMT

JATP Big Bang 2021: Let Them Find Us

Rose Molina’s funeral was a small affair. Only close family and the small remaining number of witches and wizards from the original Order. Julie was sixteen, sixteen when she made the decision.

Next year, she was going to join the Order of the Phoenix, like her parents. She was going to join the Order so that when it came time to fight, she would make the man responsible for her mother’s death wish he’d never made it out of his days at Hogwarts.

Caleb Covington was going to pay.

A Jukebox Wizarding War AU inspired by Paint Me In Trust by @pawprinterfanfic

(link in reblog)

29 notes • Posted 2021-07-11 23:12:11 GMT

Time To Come Out Of The Dark

JATP The Mortal Instruments AU (except there’s no weird incest plot like the clace one)

A year after Rose’s death, Julie turns sixteen, but when she runs into a boy named Luke Patterson and is hurled head first into an unfamiliar world unlike her own known as the Downworld, she fights to find the key to her mother’s demon-hunting past as she uncovers secret after secret, only ending up with more questions.

Did she even know her mother at all?

(link in reblog)

39 notes • Posted 2021-02-23 21:13:11 GMT

You’ve Got A Pizza My Heart

LukeReggie Oneshot based on this post

Oh no.

He froze.

He just told the pizza guy he loved him.

And he said it back?

(link in reblog)

67 notes • Posted 2021-04-12 19:33:01 GMT

Mrs Harrison’s

Jukebox au with minor Willex & Flarrie

Love isn’t always kisses, proposals, and big romantic gestures. Sometimes? It comes in the form of free coffee, just when you need it.

When Julie’s boyfriend breaks things off unexpectedly, she finds herself outside the coffee shop where her friend works. Only, Flynn is nowhere to be found, but her friendly coworker is more than happy to let her inside to shelter from the rain and order a cab.

She had no idea how much Mrs Harrison’s coffee shop would impact her life. But... here we are.

(link in reblog)

83 notes • Posted 2021-01-05 16:22:47 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #year in review #year in review: 2021

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Saturday 30 April 1836: SH:7/ML/E/19/0034

8 55

2 am

- fine frosty morning - downstairs in ½ hour - Mawson had been waiting ½ hour - gave him check for £100 (Messrs. Illingworth and his partner Spencer) - mentioned having seen Mrs. Sutherland’s letter of June 1833 - thought Captain S- would therefore make no claim of acreage of A-‘s name being included (she not knowing enough about it) should advise not to claim anything for the coal already got but A- had written down and I myself thought £20 per acre a fair thing for what remained to be got of Charnock’s coal - I- said about 6 acres in the whole and about 2 or more got - he talked of expense - I said well! then I would ask if A- would take £15 - with respect to the 2nd pit I had advised A- only to claim for the 5 years = £250 since she and her sister came into possession - let the administra lux of the late Mr. Walker claim the rest if she liked - smiled and said Illingworth might tell her if he liked - a good deal of talk - J. and S- much pleased - said I might send for I- myself only hoped he would do his best for me if I did send for him - ‘yes! that I will promise you that’ said he - then had Husband and Barstow - the latter came to say Mr. Wainhouse objected to the Foundry - I thought he would object - said Mr. Husband had best ask him quietly - if W- would not consent there was only one way for it - (meaning a notice to quit) - but the engine might be put up - B- had heard of a 2nd hand one -he

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had best bestir himself and inquire and if it was worth anything take Mr. Husband and view it the 1st thing on Monday let me have an answer before I went away - had Charles Howarth and paid him (under Mr. Husband) for store-room and larder - then had Joseph Mann who brought his notes =£68.6.6 ½ - to get the money at the bank and pay him in the afternoon - then had Ingham about the upper Hagstocks walling - all these people kept me till 11 50 - breakfast at 12 and Marian came and sat with me the whole time - read me the prospectus of the Messrs. Briggs etc from the Halifax Guardian - fair straightforward prospectus - well done - appearing to great advantage after the humbug of the Messrs. Rawson - saw a carriage at the door (did not know till evening it was Mrs. Henry Priestleys’) - Marian said I was gone to H-x - off down the old bank at 1 ½ - long while at the office of Messrs. P- and A- they had heard I had turned them off and got a new attorney had heard of the letter from Messrs. Gray to Mr. Rawson - explained - did A-‘s business as well as my own - explained about Illingworth (they approved) but Adam said A- had a right to the whole £250; for the additional £50 a year for the 2nd pit went in part of payment of the sum total for the coal SW- had valued the coal after this price fixed upon it - A- had bought at this price and was therefore entitled to the £250 as a part and parcel of the whole - very true - said I would explain this to her - they seemed amused and pleased at the proposed letter reminding Capitan S- A- had taken a colliery for better and worse, and if he shared the bet, he ought to risk the worst - explained about Wainhouse’s objections to the Foundry - said I thought Mr. Parker had better see him on the subject - Gave A-‘s order on Messrs. Briggs for £400, and said I would on Monday morning give an order on the Yorkshire District Bank for the remainder of the £925 for the purchase from Patchett - for Bland and c° ready to pay the £90 deposit on the Bouldshaw coal, and this money if paid had best go towards A-‘s purchase - then explained my own business - appoint Mr. P- steward to receive and pay all indoors and out and call to see my aunt about once a month – Mr. Wainhouse’s £4000 ready anytine but at 4 ¼ p.c. on bond - 4p.c. landed security - asked P- and A-‘s advice - to go on to the end at the bank or take the money of W- P- advised the latter - very well, said I, then I will take the £4000 or £5,000 let it be - and I will come over for a few hours next week (probably Thursday or Friday thought to leave A- at Tadcaster or Leeds) and sign the bond and put the money into the bank - signed a notice to quit to George Robinson as usual - Desired Messrs. P- and A- to consult the magistrates and about the Northgate hotel - whether they would wait patiently till it was finished, or oblige me to open the [tavern] and sell ale in the meantime - said with respect to going abroad A- wished it I had told her the expense and said if we did go she must pay - had I not best advise her to order SW- to pay a certain sum to Messrs. P- and A- and then instruct them to pay the same to Hammersleys to be placed to my account - yes! this the most regular and best plan - from P- and A-‘s to the bank - got £200 of which fifty in Bank of England the rest in their notes - asked for letter of credit for £2000 to remain in force one year and be renewed if necessary - not a word against it - said I would send them a regular order to honour Mr. Parker’s checks on my account to the amount of £2000 - then to Whitley’s - paid my bill from 1 January up to today inclusive - then to Greenwood’s - mentioned about the garden and damage whatever was reasonable for Walker pit stead etc Mr. P- to pay G- for the licence and settle whether any ale to be sold or not at present - would be best to avoid it if possible - then to the Northgate hotel, looking about - gets on very well - then had Husband - he shew his plan for the new Dispensary - very fair indeed - Mr. Harper had told him he had just as good a chance of getting the job as Harper himself had - in which I agreed - returned up the new bank and by the Lodge - saw Booth - with fine weather he will nearly complete his job in a fortnight - Mark Hepworth in the stable - come to bid for Ruthin - offered £10 - no! could see the horse for £12 but would give him 10/. back and for the scare crow of a new gin horse he brought this morning price 6 guineas would give him 10/. for his trouble of buying - at last agreed but said if he did not take the horse home with him tonight I would be off the bargain in the morning - (our hay is all but done - shall have to buy in a few days) - then had Joseph Mann - paid him - kept his bills to enter tomorrow in his book and mine - it seems he has already received £3.17.0 for coal at 8d a load or corve - this to be regularly placed to my credit by Mr. Parker - then wrote 3 pp. and ends (hurried) to A- York in answer to her 2 ½ pp. I got at the post office this afternoon together with Briggs’s prospectus directed to A- sent my letter to A- and a note to ‘A. Jubb Esquire Lord Street’ saying I should be glad to see him before I went and should if he could come in the course of tomorrow - dinner at 8 and coffee and Marian sat with me the whole time and till 9 ¾ when went to my aunt for ½ hour -had John Booth in the drawing room - settled with him and gave him orders - and read the newspaper (my aunt went at 10 ¼) till 11 55 then came upstairs and till 11 55 wrote all the above of today - Had William Green yesterday just before dinner and Joseph Smith’s wife about 7 this evening - mentioned about the possibility of William G-‘s wanting the cottage she lived in, but said if he left his daughter, the daughter should not stay where she is - Smiths’ wife very quietly told the tale of her husband’s being still poorly and not well off - had sold something (a bobbin frame or something of no great use to them) to help to pay ½ year’s rent due she laid next Sunday week - so I gave it her and said she would hear from Mr. Parker when to pay it the next time - several showers morning and afternoon but I escaped them all - F35 ½° and dampish now at midnight - had Mrs. Hutchinson the schoolmistress between 6 and 7 this evening - she wants more flannel - told her always to advise with Mrs. Ann Lee about these matters, and said I would tell A- of her wanting 11 yards more - hoped all would go on well - they have 10 boys and 6 girls (2 of the latter ill) - particularly charged to bring forward Ann Booth and her brother John to go to them by and by.

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then wrote as follows to ‘Mrs. Walker Cliff Hill’ to go by little John Booth in the morning - ‘Shibden Hall - Saturday evening 30 April 1836 - my dear madam - I arrived very early on Thursday morning and promised myself the pleasure of seeing you before my return to York on Monday morning - I begin to fear this will not be in my power, I have been, and am likely to be so incessantly engaged - I do assure you, I regret seeing you - we hope to get off from York before the end of next week, and shall reach Paris as soon as we can, from which place Miss Walker will write immediately on our arrival - we shall make some little excursions from there but where is quite unfixed - our absence must depend entirely upon circumstances, but we shall be glad to be able to amuse ourselves during the summer months - my aunt is surprisingly well, and my having Mrs. James Briggs to keep house for her, will, I feel assured, make her very comfortable - we all unite in kind regards to yourself - Believe me, my dear madam, very truly yours A. Lister’ - wrote note to ‘Mr. S. Washington, Crownest’ with the plan of yew trees quarry to have the last measurement added to it, and be sent back by early on Monday morning and with the account of what I may be indebted to Mr. SW- and what he has paid Ingham in a/c of Hagstocks walling and if has thought it right to pay the last ½ years Water Lane rate for the poor - and send him copy of A-‘s directions about the stockings to be knitted - 12 ½ when I had written all the above.

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