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steddielations · 6 months

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Flight of Icarus Character List

Lore Part 1 | Part 2

- Eddie Munson: Our boy is 18 years old, lives alone in his dad's house with Wayne checking in on him. By 1984, he's the lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin and the DM for Hellfire. He's known as Freak King at school, and Munson Junior around town, he hates both. His grades are bad, but the only trouble he gets in at school is getting blamed for fights with jocks that he doesn't start or win. He works as a barback at the Hideout where his band plays sometimes. His status as town pariah due to his dad's criminal reputation and being an outcast deeply affects him. He wants nothing more than to escape that image, even if he's trading it for a different image. The story kicks off when he gets a chance to chase a record deal in California and teams up with his dad to get the money to move.

- Al Munson: Eddie’s dad, he comes in and out of Eddie's life. He's been abandoning Eddie alone/with Wayne for long stretches since Eddie was a child. Al's very charismatic and has even made Jim Hopper laugh. He uses that "Munson Magic" to manipulate everyone around him, he's a conman and career criminal. He taught Eddie guitar, but also taught Eddie to jack cars at age 10 and only sees Eddie as his little minion. He comes back to town, claiming he's fresh out of a prison stint in Colorado with a debt he needs to repay, and enlists Eddie into helping him rob a truck carrying drugs from his former boss. He leaves details out of the story that blow up in their faces. In the end, he leaves again when Eddie needs him most.

- Wayne Munson: Eddie’s uncle, factory job guy and the best caregiver as we all predicted. Wayne’s a quiet guy, very emotionally reserved too. Eddie says he’s never even heard Wayne yell, he’s non-confrontational. He doesn’t like Al, says nothing even when Al tries to instigate an argument. He deeply cares for Eddie. Eddie is very stubbornly independent, so used to being on his own because of Al, and Wayne tries to respect his boundaries while also being concerned, as Eddie gets very prickly about it. He tries his best to keep Eddie from getting roped in with Al, but overall he lets Eddie make his own decisions. He seems like he wants to just bundle Eddie in a hug at times, but they're not to that point yet in the book. In the end, Al's scheme gets their house burned down, so Wayne permanently takes Eddie in. He shapes Eddie by telling him he’s not his dad and to stop caring what people think and not to put himself in a box. Some nice tidbits: Wayne has a green thumb, reads Gardener’s Weekly magazine and goes to a bar called the Attic on Fridays.

- Ronnie Ecker: Eddie’s childhood best friend. She lives with her grandma in the trailer park. Her father passed away and her mother is implied mentally unstable. She meets Eddie when they’re 8. She’s described as tall, taller than Eddie since they were kids, always wearing a corduroy hat, and people mistake them for siblings. She’s the first drummer of cc. Ronnie and Eddie formed the band specifically because they had to do the middle school talent show. Then Gareth becomes the drummer when she graduates. She’s also in Hellfire, wants to go to law school and has a full ride scholarship to NYU. She’s sort of implied aro/ace after Eddie tries to kiss her when they’re 13, she says it’s not just Eddie, she doesn’t think she’ll ever have a crush on anyone. Ronnie is perceptive and smart and she teases Eddie a lot but they’re very protective of each other. Eddie gets blackmailed by Principal Higgins into dropping out when he threatens to jeopardize Ronnie's scholarship. Eddie never tells Ronnie this, even when they have a fight about him choosing to end Hellfire because Higgins convinced him his friends would be better off. This causes them to leave off on vague terms when she goes to NYU.

- Dougie Teague: This could possibly be unnamed freak from the show, but there’s an age discrepancy because he’s the same age as Ronnie and Eddie in the books and it says he graduates. So he would have to fail senior year twice along with Eddie to still be in high school in the show as unnamed freak. Dougie is the backup cc guitar player, whereas unnamed freak played bass in the show. Dougie is brash and blurts things out. He lives where Eddie calls the nice side of town and they rehearse in his garage. Dougie’s mom is not fond of Eddie but lets them practice there. Dougie’s dad is an HVAC truck guy.

- Jeff (no last name): Jeff is a sophomore and the bass player for CC, whereas in the show he plays guitar. Jeff comes across as reserved compared to Eddie and Ronnie. He played D&D with his older brothers before joining Hellfire. Eddie says Jeff knows more about bass than him. Jeff is ‘the nice one’ and generally nervous and anxious. He’s reasonable but he looks up to Eddie and buys into what Eddie says about the band getting a deal even if it’s unrealistic. Jeff is awkward around girls, wants to do good in school and he’s afraid of getting in trouble. The owner of the Hideout bar lets the band split a beer and Jeff is nervous the whole time. Also, when Eddie screws up, Jeff is the first to forgive him.

- Gareth (no last name): Gareth takes on the role of Eddie’s first sheep, whereas everyone else are Eddie’s friends, Gareth is like the little kid he’s fond of. Gareth is a freshman, there’s a whole scene of Eddie helping him create a D&D character. He’s hotheaded and a target for bullies. Eddie sticks up for him a couple times, and once, Gareth barrels in shrieking and throwing windmill punches to stop Eddie from getting jumped by Tommy H and crew, which results in Gareth going to the hospital with a fractured wrist.

- Rick Lipton (Reefer Rick): Rick is a very typical laid back stoner character. He's around 35, described as a giant soft guy with big smiling eyes and friendly face, wearing a Smokey the Bear shirt, and not what Eddie expected from a drug dealer. His house is also not what Eddie expected, being pretty clean compared to Eddie's teenage inhabited space. Eddie meets Rick through his dad, who has screwed Rick over in the past and this makes Rick unwilling to be the buyer of what they're going to steal off the drug truck. Eddie however puts on his best "Munson Magic" and convinces Rick. Rick is impressed and calls him Munson Junior, which Eddie hates. He goes back to Rick at the end of the book, needing money and a job. Rick gets him started dealing.

- Elizabeth Munson (maiden name Franklin): Eddie’s mom, he's a certified mama's boy. She doesn't appear in the book, Eddie says she got sick and passed away when he was around 6. She's originally from Memphis, Tennessee, where she met Al and they moved to Hawkins when she was 19, they got married March 12th, 1966. She loved Eddie's dad but Eddie says Al was always leaving her to go off on schemes. She passed her love of music onto Eddie. Her favorite was Chicago blues, Eddie didn't understand why until she passed and he started to feel it in his bones too. Eddie remembers dancing with her to Muddy Waters' "Rollin' Stone" and when the song comes on in the truck while he's doing business with Al, it makes him tear up. He recalls this memory several times, it seems like it’s his happiest memory. He says "When Elizabeth Munson was happy, the whole entire world was happy." His biggest connection to his mom was through her music. Then when Al's scheme goes wrong, the people he screwed over show up and burn down their house in an act of revenge. Eddie almost gets killed trying to save his mom's records, but they burn.

- Paige Warner: Paige is a junior scout at WR Music. She's not described beyond having freckles, chin-length dark hair and dark eyes. She has a younger brother on the Hawkins baseball team. At the Hideout, she sees Eddie's band playing and he chalks up the courage to talk to her. (He's squeaky and blushy, no game) Paige is in town for her grandmother's funeral, she remembers Eddie from the middle school talent show, though she is two years older. She likes his band because they're "real". She returns another night and Eddie (after some bad news that makes him desperate to chase his future) propositions her to get them a record deal. She's insulted, having told Eddie that guys use her for that reason, but they agree to work together. Paige pays for the studio time for cc to record the demo tape. In the meantime, Paige meets Al and Eddie is beside himself the entire time, not wanting her to find out the dirty work they're doing to fund his future. Then, Paige's boss only likes Eddie, and when she delivers this news, Eddie expresses that he doesn't want to ditch his band, but she says this will benefit both of them. So he agrees and it's implied they start hooking up, never making things official. She leaves for California and he's supposed to go later for his audition and stay with her. This doesn't happen, Eddie's heist with Al lands him temporarily in jail, and over a heated phone call, things end between them. It's implied that Paige pays his bail but never speaks to him again.

- Tommy Hayes: It's debatable whether this is supposed to be Tommy H from the show, whether his last name was always Hagan or if that was a fanon thing. Given his proximity to the jocks and being bitter that Steve has changed since dating Nancy, it's supposed to be Tommy H from the show. He's extremely violent in the book, which doesn't track so much with Tommy in the show, who's more of a shit-talker lackey. This Tommy bullies Eddie for being poor, a freak, and the son of a criminal. He bullies the whole Hellfire club and beats Eddie up on two occasions, punches Ronnie (accidentally?) when she tries to protect Gareth, and puts Gareth in the hospital. He faces no repercussions because the Principal is on his side, as Tommy's family is influential and rich.

- Principal Higgins: The principal of Hawkins High. Eddie is justified for wanting to flip him off in the show. Higgins has a ton of favoritism toward the kids from well off influential families, like jocks and preppy students, and always takes their side even when Eddie (and friends) are the ones bruised and beaten. He's a Bible thumper and hates Hellfire and also hates Eddie because he's a Munson, considers him a rotten apple that poisons the bunch. He wants Eddie to drop out to rid the school of the Hellfire club. After the brawl between the jocks and Hellfire, Higgins convinces Eddie that it's his fault his friends are considered freaks and get bullied. He blackmails Eddie into dropping out by threatening to jeopardize Ronnie's scholarship to NYU. Eddie eventually comes to his senses and finds his fire again when everything falls through. He gets re-enrolled in school and turns things around by blackmailing Higgins. At this point, he knows Higgins buys drugs from Reefer Rick, and uses that information to force Higgins to let Hellfire continue and leave him and his friends alone.

- Officer Moore: A Hawkins cop who has it out for Eddie. He's described as having a blond buzz cut, a square jaw, Superman level All-American looks. He has a growing mid-forties beer gut. He pulls Eddie and Ronnie over in Eddie's van, Eddie sasses the shit out of him since apparently he pulls Eddie over a lot trying to find reasons to arrest him, just because he's a Munson. But he has to let them go.

- CJ and Toby: These are two goons that worked with Al under the same boss, Charlie Greene, one of the biggest drug kingpins in Oregon. They are transporting the truck with the drugs that Al enlists Eddie to help him rob. Eddie and Al successfully rob the truck, but CJ and Toby show up to their house days later. While holding Eddie and Al at gunpoint looking for the drugs, It's revealed that Al didn't owe money because he borrowed it, he stole it because he got greedy. Eddie was under the impression that he was saving his dad from enforcers that would come to collect the debt eventually, not helping him steal more from them. Al wasn't in prison like he told Eddie, he was living large as Charlie Greene's right hand man, never sending Eddie a dime. At this point, Eddie and Al have already sold the stolen drugs to Reefer Rick, so Al turns over the 15 grand of money to CJ and Toby. They think it's settled, but CJ decides to set the house on fire too, since Al embarrassed them with the boss. The only reason they don't kill Eddie and Al is because Officer Moore shows up, having been following Eddie. Instead, CJ shoots Officer Moore in the leg and then he and Toby flee. Eddie immediately goes to help the officer (despite hating Moore) while Al is telling Eddie to come on so they can run. Eddie feels like its their fault Moore was shot and won't leave him, Al says he didn't realize Eddie was this much of a fool. Eddie tries to get him to stay because he needs him, but Al leaves him anyway and Eddie is devastated and numb. He's arrested when cops show up.

- Jim Hopper: Hopper brings Eddie a cup of water and talks to him while he's in lockup for the night. He calls Eddie "Junior" but Eddie's too numb at that point to care. He says they know that Eddie tried to help Moore, but he's being held for arson because of the house, until he makes bail. Hopper is really trying to give Eddie a break, knowing he helped Moore, and talks a bit about Eddie's dad. He says something cryptic about knowing Al in school and how every time something went down, Al was usually at the center. Hopper does Eddie a favor and lets him use the phone in his office, where Eddie calls Paige. Hours later, Hopper tells him he made bail and that Wayne is there to get him.

- Chrissy Cunningham: Eddie remembers Chrissy from the talent show. Eddie's dad was supposed to be there, but didn't show up, meanwhile Chrissy is disappointed that her mom did show up. A lot like the show, it's minimal but Chrissy is sweet with troubled undertones. Eddie's surprised she even talks to him, but she's nice and says she'd cheer for him if his dad didn't show. Fast forward to high school, when the jocks are giving Eddie flack, Chrissy tries to get them to stop. Then they try to lie to the principal and say Eddie was bothering Chrissy. Chrissy says it's a lie but Jason quickly silences her.

- Bev: The owner of the Hideout bar. She's a very no nonsense drill sergeant kind of lady. She keeps Eddie humble, calls him Junior despite him asking her not to, always tells him to get a haircut and doesn't like his band at all, though she lets them play there as part of the exchange for Eddie working there. The stage is just some rickety wood that her late husband built. It's implied she had something to do with his death. She's strict and doesn't give anything out for free, only Al is able to charm her out of a free pitcher of beer when he's celebrating Eddie (temporarily) dropping out of school, which stuns Eddie. When Eddie quits the job chasing his California dream, she admits she'll miss their band and that's that.

- Janice: Principal Higgins secretary who equally hates Eddie and favors jocks and preppy students. She wears coke bottle glasses that magnify her eyes and has a fanatical obsession with purple.

- Stan: A junior member of Hellfire who had to sneak around his parents to go to meetings by pretending to be at algebra tutoring, as they consider D&D to be Satanic. When his parents find out, they write a letter to the school, condemning Hellfire club and saying they sent Stan to a church program to cleanse him. Higgins shows Eddie this letter to make him feel guilty and responsible.

-Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan: These girlies are mentioned in one sentence but I don't know where else to put this info. Eddie implies these are the two other hookups he had before Paige, once in grade ten and once senior year, saying that he could tell they were only doing it for the dare of getting with the freak. Though, he wasn't looking to be anybody's boyfriend. He compares them to Paige, who he feels like genuinely likes him

- Steve Harrington: He doesn't actually appear in the book but his balls get a mention so he's going on the list. The only thing to note is that Steve doesn't approve of any freshman getting beat up, to the point where the jocks do it behind his back and Jason Carver is worried about him finding out. Tommy says Steve doesn't have any balls since dating Nancy Wheeler. Eddie defends Steve's balls, saying Tommy can't talk about someone else having no balls when he gets his kicks beating up freshman.

- Will and Jonathan Byers: At the end of the book, in a record shop, Will and Jonathan walk in. Eddie recognizes Will from his missing posters and recalls the events where Will had a funeral yet somehow was found alive. Jonathan goes to the back for a certain record, and while Will is alone, Eddie watches as a few younger jocks come into the store and start hounding him, calling him zombie boy. Eddie takes up for him, goads the jocks and gets them to take it out on him, takes a baseball to the chest and they leave. Eddie tells Will that Zombie Boy is metal as shit and Jonathan thanks Eddie when he comes back. Eddie offers Jonathan weed and says Jonathan is way too offended by the question for someone with his haircut. This whole interaction solidifies Eddie's new sense of purpose, collecting and protecting sheep.

- Granny Ecker: Ronnie's grandmother. She's not a big part of the story at all but she lives in the trailer park too. She's a wooden spoon wielding grandma character. Eddie calls her Granny too and she worries about Wayne and makes Eddie bring him casseroles and stuff. it's just cute so I'm including it.

#characters and their parts in the story technically #i tried to make this where reading to the end gives you all the plot too #eddie munson #flight of icarus #steddie #< for the one steve mention hehe #steve harrington #stranger things #wayne munson #al munson #will byers #jonathan byers #jim hopper #ronnie ecker #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #mp

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p1nkshield · 1 year

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Welcome esteemed guests to chapter four of my still unnamed fanfic! Please place your suggestions on a name in the comments if you feel so inclined. :)

Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose as he turned on the coms, hopefully one of his family members would have one in right now.

“Team, Constantine will be here in five to visit our guest. Either be in gear and in the bat cave or make yourselves scarce.”

“Understood Father.”

“Why is Constantine coming here?”

“You got it, b!”

Bruce did his best to answer Tim’s question as he surveyed the confiscated items from the self proclaimed guys in white, eyeing the vials of bright green liquid he had yet to finish analyzing.

“The infinite realms sounded familiar to me so I posed some inquiries about it to Constantine. This apparently set off the alarms for him as I attempted to elaborate. Now he’s on his way.”

Bruce made no efforts to hide his exasperation as he headed towards the zeta tube entrance of the bat cave.

Jason sat in a large ornate chair vigilantly as the boy he was tasked to watch slept in the plush guest bed. He looked no older then seven. Who could hurt such a small kid? The thought made Jason sick.

Dick entered the room after knocking gently. “Hey little wing, did you hear Bruce earlier? Constantine is really gunning it over here. We need to either get lost or put on our dominos at least.”

Jason scoffed at the cutesy nickname and made a move to get up until Danny stirred in his sleep. Jason stopped in his tracks.

“Can’t” Jason uttered

“What?” Dick said inquisitively

“Can’t leave him.”

Jason really couldn’t. It was like he was glued to the chair at the bedside of this kid.

Dick looked with concern at his younger brother. “I see… how about this! I will go get your gear and keep an eye on him while you change in the en-suite. That way you aren’t far!”

Jason squinted his eyes at the proposition.

“Jason, I promise Danny is safe here. You don’t have to worry.”

It ended up working out perfectly.

“Hey Disco boy”

“hm?”

“I don’t know what came over me, thanks for not giving me a hard time.”

“Aww you’re welcome mama bird!”

Jason met this teasing with a myriad of expletives that were whisper-yelled at his brother.

“Try not to be a helicopter parent!” Dick laughed as he retreated from the room.

Danny stirred once again as his eyes flitted open. He sat up groggily and surveyed his surroundings. Jason could tell panic was seeping into his veins as he saw his unfamiliar environment.

“Hey, it’s okay”

Danny’s head snapped towards the source of the voice.

“You’re safe” Jason continued “ someone named CW sent you here to heal”

Jason’s soothings seemed to reach him as he relaxed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Where is he?!? Bats,this could be the catalyst of an inter dimensional war! A war against a people who’s base power set is comparable to Martian Manhunter do you understand?”

“Constantine”

“This literal child usurped Pariah Dark Batman.”

Batman blinked as that name held no weight for him.

“Pariah Dark was a ruler so cruel and powerful that he was banished by his own subjects. The only way for power to change hands is via single combat but no one could do it.”

“Constantine?”

“Until the new king broke him out of his sarcophagus and promptly handed his ass to him! Rumors are that he’s not even full grown yet!”

“Constantine!”

The magic user paused, snapped out of his hasty exposition.

“The boy is still resting and hasn’t woken up yet. In the letter we received we were told that this is the safest place for him to recover. I’m sure that whoever is in charge is doing everything they can to keep the child safe.”

Just as Batman was about to continue to explain how he managed to get in this situation Jason exited the elevator to the bat cave.

“Yes I promise he’s nice. No, he dresses like a bat to scare bad guys.”

Danny who was holding tightly to Jason’s continued to rattle out questions.

“Who is that?” Danny asked as he pointed towards Constantine who looked thoroughly confused.

“This tiny tyke is the Ghost King? Oh come on you’re pulling my leg or something spooks.”

Constantine then addressed the boy

“You defeated Pariah Dark single handedly?”

Danny replied to his questioning with a crinkled look of confusion.

“… Ghost King? …Pariah Dark?”

Realization dawned on Constantine.

“Was he reduced to his core?”

Jason replied with another question.

“Is that why he looked like a fancy rock?”

A beat of silence filled the room.

“I can’t help you with this. Let me know when he remembers enough for me to grovel for the sake of this dimension.”

Constantine made his way towards the zeta tube and swiftly left.

Danny blinked a few times, processing the strange man and his strange questions before letting go of Jason’s hand.

“Where are you headed kid?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“There’s not much in terms of refreshments down here how about we- hey woah don’t drink that!”

It was far too late Danny had phased his hand through the container holding several large ampules of a glowing green liquid. He snapped off the top at the scored break point and began to drink it.

“Danny! Danny spit that out right now!” Jason hurriedly approached.

“Why? It’s good! See?”

Before Jason could protest Danny offered some of his drink to Jason.

Despite his best efforts he smelled some of the unidentified liquid. It smelled … really good. Before he himself or Bruce could stop him, he took a small sip. It was sweet, citrusy and effervescent. He took another sip before finishing the whole thing. It lessened a headache he forgot he had.

“Heeeey! That was mine!”

Jason regarded the boy who looked at him with intense betrayal.

He reached into the containment unit and uncorked another ampule with some effort and handed it to him absently, still confused as to what just happened.

This is the second time this week Bruce has been genuinely shocked by something. He did not like this feeling at all. He looked forlornly at his samples that had just been raided like a fridge. He let out a long sigh.

@boo-ghosties @skulld3mort-1fan @addie-lover-of-stories @isaactheautobot @krzys2000 @ectoradiation @worthlesswall @mewzaque @mnemovoid @phantom-dc @justwannabecat @kitty-page @cutelittlebeanie @meira-3919 @amyheart19 @scarlette-foxx @thegatorsgoose @farmercale

#dc x dp fic #dc x dp #fanfic #Bruce is just looking at the ampules he made like :(#At the Core fic

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pendragonsclotpole · 3 months

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merlin reboot idea except this time the main character is arthur and the show is called arthur

jk not that arthur, lol. anyway the pilot opens with an asmr inducing first scene of an unnamed protagonist emerging from a morning workout in the pool. as we see him get ready for the day, we hear faint whispers of a name, one we can’t quite understand, but he seems to recognize. he turns around but no one is there, only the audience sees a brief glimpse of a pale face with dark hair spread out around it in the reflection of the water. we follow him as he gets ready, but we never get a glimpse of his face. the seconds and music build up as he finishes his routine and heads to the university he teaches at. the keychain in his hands shines like the blade of a sword, and the hat he wears rests on his hair like a crown. we see his students greet him and learn he’s a bit of a favorite professor. the big reveal comes when he’s about to enter his office. the camera pans to the placard on the wall, which reads

penn drake, associate professor of medieval english and arthurian literature

the camera follows him inside, rises, and there surrounded by books and iconography of legends from long ago, the face of arthur pendragon in modern garb stares back to the shock of the audience. this story is not about a young boy discovering magic in a kingdom that persecutes it, but of a man plagued by dreams of the legends he studies, haunted by the face of a man he has never met, and sent on a quest to restore magic to the world

we’ve always assumed that merlin would be at arthur’s side at the time of his return, that he would find him, but what if arthur is reborn and spends the next 40 years of his life searching for a purpose? what if the purpose arrives when albion’s need is greatest—when merlin has all but given up, unaware that somewhere out there resides the king of legend, the king he swore himself to, the king he’s been searching for all this time.

call the show pendragon.

#merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merthur #king arthur #merlin emrys #bbc merthur

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underdark-dreams · 7 months

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I'm a slut for hurt/comfort and I'm obsessed with this trope tbh: Can we get Rolan/Tav where Tav gets downed in battle? (Obvs they can be brought back bc scrolls and revivify and what have you, I just want that sweet sweet angst.)

Rolan x Unnamed Fem!Tav: she/her

Whoo boy, we may have angst'ed too close to the sun with this one. Can't say much else without getting choked up--just love Rolan even when he's in pain. Thank you for this request!

Life, Death, Resurrection

During the ambush at Last Light Inn, the young wizard stares down the very real possibility of his dear one's death. A bittersweet night seen through Rolan's eyes.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Angst, Major Injury, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,430 [Read on AO3]

It was like the very skies above had cracked open to let the hells stream through.

Everything roared around Rolan all at once—nightmares on wings descended in ambush through the roof of Last Light Inn, the din of screams and ripping flesh and thudding bodies against the floor overwhelming his senses before he could gather them.

Only reflex saved him as a winged horror stretched its claws high above to strike—then was pushed backwards by the thunderous force from both his hands. An arrow from Lia’s bow whistled past his ear, close enough that he felt the rush of air against his cheek.

“Fuck is happening—!” She yelled aloud to no one, another arrow already notched against her bowstring. Lakrissa sprinted in to form a line with her despite the bleeding gash on her bow arm.

Jaheira burst through the fray with eyes like steel. “Harpers, to the cleric!” The druid hit the ground on four paws—powerful teeth tore through one hellish creature’s translucent wing like it was parchment, its shrieking figure hurled against the back wall by the panther’s jaws—

Rolan wasted a precious second glancing to Isobel’s quarters above. He saw the flashes of rapid-fire spellcasting, heard the vicious scrape of metal against metal, and grasped Jaheira’s meaning in an instant. All the chaos on the lower floor was just a diversion to occupy their forces—the cleric’s room was the true focus of the ambush. And she was up there somewhere.

“Die and I’ll kill you both,” Rolan shouted to his siblings as he broke for the stairs. The blunt end of Cal’s spear swung past him in response, landing a killing blow on the ghoul Jaheira had just flung past their heads.

Supportive forces from outside the inn walls were rapidly gathering. Harper Skywin's crossbow bolt sang true through the wide front doors, piercing one monster's throat a moment too late, its claws already dripping with the warm blood of the disemboweled Harper on the floorboards.

Dammon rushed across the threshold just as Rolan's boots reached the first step. Their eyes met for only an instant as Rolan dashed upward. Behind him he heard the sharp sizzle of flesh as the smith’s blade, still glowing from the fires of his furnace, seared through the belly of the creature standing over its kill.

Rolan reached the balcony just as yet another winged ghoul touched down outside the cleric's room. He threw handful after handful of icy shards through its chest, overcome with impatient fury. Finally its impaled body fell back over the railing with a death rattle. He wheeled round in the doorway to face the scene within.

The colossal Flaming Fist's greatsword swung outward in a reckless circle—his face was disfigured by necrotic energy, dark unnatural wings sprouting from between his shoulders.

She and her companions flanked him on all sides—Rolan watched her face reflect the radiant magic of her own sword as it slashed for Marcus's shoulder. Shadowheart's arms guided a blinding bolt into the Fist's back, while from the corner Isobel called down healing energy upon her allies as rapidly as she could. The fight was nearly theirs.

Rolan joined to aim a spell through the fray, channeling every bit of the Weave he could reach to bind and weaken the monster. Marcus roared in frustration as he felt their numbers rapidly turning the tide against him.

Several things happened all at once. With a raging strike, Karlach swung her battleaxe down upon the Fist’s neck to cleave at the exposed gap in his armor, landing the death blow that would bring him to his knees.

And in the same instant—maybe because his savior was closest, or just the last face Marcus glimpsed in death—Rolan saw the Fist's hand raise toward her too late to intervene. A final burst of necrotic magic pushed out from his collapsing body, rushed through her chest, exited like black smoke from between her shoulder blades.

Her mouth formed a soft “oh!” of surprise. In the next moment, Rolan watched her figure crumple and fold over itself on its way to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“No—” The hoarse word barely escaped his throat. The Gods couldn’t be so fucking cruel to take her now, not after she’d just given him back the only family he’d ever known—

Rolan scrambled toward her through pools of cooling blood, kneeled where she lay. An iron fist gripped around him. "Wake up," he ordered her limp and unresponsive body, even as he gathered it in his arms. "Damn it, wake up!"

All the rest of them standing around him were forgotten. Somehow he was stumbling down the stairs with her, rushing into the barracks that had rapidly begun filling with the other wounded and bleeding. The rest of them could wait; she must be the first.

He laid her body out on the nearest empty bed. Not body—he corrected his mind in a wild panic—her eyes would open and she would live. Right now, her features lay so still it filled him with dread.

Why was no one descending instantaneously to heal her? He would’ve shouted if he could find his voice. Isobel was practically on death's door herself—Rolan watched her slump against the wall and wipe dark blood from her mouth. He turned away, unable to bear the fucking sight of her anyway, not after what her life may have just cost him. He cast around desperately for the Sharran.

Shadowheart was beside him in a second, already peeling off her bloodied gloves.

"Please," he begged. "Tell me she's not—"

Shadowheart's hands gripped his shoulders, vice-like. "If you want her to live, go. I need to concentrate." Her words broke through, and Rolan stumbled backwards in mute obedience.

Only his other fears for Cal and Lia could have drawn him from the room. He found them gathered around the central hall with the rest of the able-bodied, wiping the infernal blood from their weapons and taking stock of the casualties in a daze. The three of them all held each other wordlessly. Through the heat rising from the open hearth, Rolan glimpsed Alfira and Lakrissa doing the same.

With that concern eased, his mind was consumed with the one that remained. He paced across the hall in an effort to follow her companion's warning to stay away for as long as he could stand.

Once he couldn't, Rolan returned to the makeshift infirmary to stand helpless at the foot of her bed. Shadowheart took no notice of him; her eyes glowed blank as her hands directed a powerful flow of magic into her patient's chest. In this wan light, Rolan found her features more fragile and delicate than he’d ever seen them.

As the ritual came to an end, Shadowheart leaned across the unconscious figure to check the pulse at her wrist.

"How is she?" Rolan asked, terrified of the answer.

“She’ll be all right,” the cleric told him as she rose to take her leave. “But that was powerful magic; her body needs time. She probably won’t wake for hours.” He ignored the note of suggestion in her voice.

"I'll stay with her," Rolan said, final. Shadowheart didn’t question him as she moved away toward the next injured.

Rolan slumped cross-legged on the floor near her shoulder. From this angle, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under her tunic. Her bloodied half-plate lay against the wall behind him; no doubt Shadowheart had removed it to heal her wounds. Her breaths were shallow but steady.

Rolan found his own chest rising and falling in tandem, as if he might lend her some of his strength by doing so.

At the long table near the center of the room, he heard Jaheira's Harpers grouping around her in deep conversation about their next move. Marcus had been with them since the beginning, Rolan was aware—which meant that Ketheric Thorm had been one step ahead of their strategy this whole time. Rolan heard her name brought up several times in urgent excitement. She was their secret weapon. She could infiltrate Moonrise Towers this very night, and she still wouldn't be expected.

Rolan closed his eyes against the incessant discussion. He couldn’t care less about Marcus, or Thorm, or Isobel, or the entire Shadow Curse itself for that matter. There they all stood alive and well, plotting the next bloody feat she was meant to undertake, as if her spent body wasn't fighting for life in the bed a few steps away. Angry disbelief rose in his throat.

"For fuck's sake," Rolan interjected through them, "can't you all just let her rest for one fucking night?"

Surprised faces turned toward him. He didn't care if it branded him a traitor to their cause, didn't care what they thought of him at all, as long as she was left in peace for once.

It seemed Jaheira was the only one wise enough to understand. "The cub's right," she decided. "We regroup at dawn. Tonight, we rest."

Once the Harpers had filed out of the room on her orders, Jaheira turned back to him from the doorway. “Look after her,” she said, almost with gentleness. Rolan didn’t need the druid or anyone else to tell him that. But he said nothing as she left the room.

Rolan was finally left alone with his thoughts as the fire in the stone hearth behind him burned down to coals. Before long all the other infirmary occupants were sound asleep, drifting away to join the one beside him. From across the dark room Art Cullough whispered the same snatches of his halting song.

Rolan’s weary back ached despite his resolve to keep watch over her. He’d only rest his head for a little while, he told himself. He folded his arms on the edge of her mattress and lay his cheek across them so he could still face her, one hand brushing against hers. He took it without thought.

Her hands were cold. It didn’t worry him; he knew by now that they usually were. Many times in the past she’d laughed with embarrassment whenever her hands met his skin for one reason or another. Nevertheless, he wrapped her fingers under the warmth of his palm.

Rolan closed his eyes as he listened to her soft breath rise and fall.

He awoke some hours later to the sensation of something tickling his hand. Rolan raised his head groggily, realizing through the dark that it was her thumb brushing across his knuckles.

“Rolan?” Her voice whispered.

“I’m here—” He straightened up, trying to see her face through the dim light. His bent legs had gone painfully numb under him.

“What time s’it.”

He had no clue, just having awakened himself. “Past midnight,” he guessed, judging by the spare red glow of the coals in the hearth.

“Where’s Isobel?” She croaked out.

Rolan’s relief at hearing her voice again was colored with disbelief that she was already asking after others. “She’s fine, asleep upstairs. How do you feel?”

“It was Ketheric’s orders,” she explained, ignoring his question. “Taken alive…why he sent Marcus.”

To Rolan’s mind that didn’t begin to explain the attack, but he couldn’t care about all that now.

“It’s over,” he assured her. “Your companions are all safe. Everyone’s sleeping off the fight. You should too.”

He heard her sigh in relief, and then the sound worked itself into a pained cough. “Feel like Karlach clocked me in the ribs,” she winced.

“Should I get Shadowheart?” Rolan was ready to wake her friend without delay. He had half-risen before her fingers clenched against his to keep him where he knelt.

“Stay,” she requested, then added almost shyly, “please.”

Rolan was back beside her in an instant. Wherever she wanted him, that’s where he’d be. He settled himself against the edge of her bed once more, their hands still connected.

She was quiet for a long moment. “I suppose now we take the fight to Moonrise Towers.”

“By all the Hells,” Rolan muttered. He wasn’t upset at her—just at every other circumstance that weighed and pressed down on her shoulders. “Don’t you think you can take one night for yourself before you have to rush off and save us all again?”

She shifted against the bedding. “The element of surprise won’t last forever, Rolan. You know that as well as I do. The sooner we dispatch Ketheric, the sooner we can finally make our way to Baldur’s Gate, all of us.”

Rolan knew she was appealing to his personal motives, but he resisted. “Think about yourself for once,” he instructed her. “Just rest for now. Sleep. Gods know you deserve it.”

She fell silent for a while. Rolan tried to make out her expression in the dim light; he wondered if he’d been too harsh.

“Oh, just come here,” she said suddenly. “My back hurts just looking at you.” With a soft grunt of effort she scooted to the far side of the bed; Rolan realized she was making a spot for him.

He hesitated only for a moment before climbing up beside her. The mattress was firm and lumpy, but after the unyielding wood floor, it felt soft as a cloud against his stiff limbs. She settled on her side to examine him up close.

“Your face is all bloody,” she said. Her eyes reflected just enough firelight that he could make out their expression of concern.

Rolan glanced down at himself, realizing his skin and clothing were still flecked and stained head to toe from the night’s battle. His face must be in a similar state. “I don’t think it’s mine,” he answered honestly.

“Goodness,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “What a dashing hero.” Rolan couldn’t make out if she was teasing or serious, and wasn’t sure which possibility made his heart thump faster. He deflected by bringing her knuckles up to his lips.

Rolan felt her sigh again in reaction, more relaxed this time.

“Rolan?”

“Mm.”

“Hold me for a while?” She asked quietly.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Rolan’s arms slid under and over her, drawing her frame near to him. Her head bent to his chest as he held her close. Her brave, reckless, kind, vulnerable self.

Before very long, her breathing reached the heavy cadence of sleep. Rolan drifted toward unconsciousness not far behind her. It was dreamless; his arms held all he could want.

#rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 fic #angst #hurt/comfort #injury #fem unnamed tav #underdark-dreams #soitbe-soitis #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

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triflesandparsnips · 6 months

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Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

#will it be the content or the length that causes the unfollows?#WHO CAN SAY #but every day is Unfollowing Amnesty Day #farewell and be free #our flag means death #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death seasons 3 rampant speculation #izzy hands #engaging with stories #and curating your own experience #(but for real - I had to stop myself at just the few possibilities I gave for a resurrection)#(real talk if you ask me for more I can just-- come up with more)#(it's my party trick)#(for very certain kinds of very nerdy parties)

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morverenmaybewrites · 3 months

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Imagine Dark Fantasy!Gotham

Inspired by this post.

Imagine dark fantasy!Gotham. A Gotham City that sits between the border of magic and the mundane. A Gotham City that may or not may not be there, depending on the day. And the person searching for it.

A city made of both magic and the cold iron that once nearly brought it to extinction, nearly splitting at the seams at the weight of its own existence.

The only city left where you are never quite sure if the person you pass on the street is human or the personification of a myth so ancient that the outside world had all but forgotten its name.

Glamour is woven and worn like a second skin; it is said that the most powerful ones can bend even the hardest of wills to the wearer’s whims. Politicians drink charisma from gleaming silver cups just before they make their speeches to the adoring public.

Laughter is sold in bright green bottles and sold in dark corners–to a twisted clown who leaves grinning bodies in his wake.

A scientist, half-mad with his own discoveries, learns how to brew fear. And conjures hallucinations so real that his victims would carve furrows into their own skin, screaming about the things that haunt them.

Imagine the Lazarus Pits and the stories they would inspire. It is said that they were once a phenomenon seen around the world: the strange, glowing pools that hold the power over life and death. But that was before the iron, and the rise of man, and before the magic had been all but bled from the world.

Now, the only place where a Lazarus Pit could exist in was Gotham City.

If it even exists at all.

No books mention it, no maps lead to it.

And yet, the rumors persist. Whispered in dark corners, in quiet bars where the alcohol served gleams as if distilled from moonlight.

A friend of a friend had been brought back to life, a lover suffering grievous injuries stepping out of a pool, gleaming with health, a small group of humans who have somehow lived for centuries.

Imagine Bruce Wayne, half-mad with grief and hollowed out by loss. A despair so great that it threatened to blot out the stars.

If it had been another time, another place, perhaps death would have been the end of it. Perhaps the small frame he held in his arms would have been buried underneath the rich dark earth of Wayne gardens, beside Bruce’s parents. Perhaps the boy and his father would have found some measure of peace.

But this was Gotham City, the last place on earth where one could find magic.

And, perhaps just this once, death was not the end.

Imagine Jason Todd, dead.

Then, alive. A heart silent and still, begins to beat, faster and faster as if it means to break, screaming from his ribcage.

A miracle, but not without price. Never without price.

Imagine Jason Todd, silent and still and dead, until he is not. Until the cave that contains those famed pools echoes with his screams. Whatever memory of heaven or hell or the Afterlife blasted out of him by the pain of a soul being slammed, forcefully, back into its body.

Oh how living hurts.

How death hounds his every step.

It is there, in the way, he feels he does not belong anymore. After all, he was brought back to the world of the living, and he is no longer supposed to be alive. It is there, in the way his skin runs a little too cold, in the way he would sometimes forget to feel the warmth.

Once, Alfred walked in on him, holding his hand over an open fire, face utterly devoid of expression.

It is there, in the way human food feels ever so slightly bland. As if something unnameable, something crucial had been stripped from it.

It is there, in the color of his eyes. Once blue, they are the same shade of green as the smoke of the pools. They glow preternaturally bright, even in complete darkness.

Imagine his hate and resentment, growing day by day, at being forced to live in a world that now rejects him.

And so Jason leaves.

Leaves his father, leaves Gotham. Immerses himself in the mundanity of the modern world, and hopes that it’s enough to make him forget.

But every time he takes a bite of food that he can barely taste, every time he looks up at the sky to realize that he doesn’t feel the cold, every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Jason remembers.

He is not supposed to be here.

I'll be writing this as either a one shot or a two-part story. But tell me if anyone wants a part 2 where I'll discuss the plot and Jason's relationship with a changeling!reader!

#jason todd x reader #batman #gotham city #dark fantasy gotham #dark fantasy au #i wrote this in like under an hour while making my dinner #the inspiration it will not leave me alone #i must put words to paper or i will eat my fcking laptop #thinking about dark fantasy gotham and ready to make it everyone else's problem

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shortguyswag · 2 years

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[ID: A traditional drawing of Logan, an OC. He is wearing a green short sleeved tunic and brown pants with gray knee high boots. His hair is brown, and his bangs are dyed teal. he is splashing in a puddle and holding an umbrella. End ID]

Meet Logan, the blue magical boy.

#era does art #logan cooper #unnamed magical boy story #the only explanation i have for the outfit is that he does ren faires

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cloudselkie · 1 year

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First Character sheet!

Nate Preston Age: 16

DOB: 10/16/1988 Sign: Libra

Hair: Sandy Brown Eyes: Green

Nate is a trumpet player from Jackie's school's rival, the Marching Dragon Band. He's nerdy and a bit shy, and hoped playing the trumpet would help him become more confident. He loves math and science, but also has an artsy side that loves storytelling.

Nate chose to become a Purifier because he was attracted to the grandiose stories and drama of the job. His abilities reflect his burning drive to chase his dreams - the power to control fire. His weapon is a trumpet charm on his keychain that transforms into a saber.

In a fight, he is cool and collected, always calculating his next move, but he loves the finishing blow and tends to make it as dramatic as possible. He is a hero, after all, and every hero has a signature move!

#magical girl #magical boy #art #Shay's art #shay's ocs #the unnamed marching band comic #I come from the Yu-Gi-Oh and Fruits Basket school of drawing profile views 💀#and the CLAMP school of everything else

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hugsandchaos · 3 months

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Danny Phantom Related Masterlist

DP x Linked Universe

•Short headcanon list

•Memes, anyone?

•More memes

•He jumped?!

•Uhh not sure what to call this

•Okay, this is probably the last string of memes

•I lied, here’s a few more

•It’s just one meme

•Another idea

•Cooking

•Incorrect quote that I just tossed out there (we appreciate you trying to help, Hyrule)

•Late night thoughts

•Sneak Peak!

•Studying and Manatees

•No caffeine?! Criminal!

•Introducing Vlad

•Another Incorrect Quote

•”Danny, get out of the closet!”

•Lord Of The Dark Birds

•A couple more incorrect quotes

•Soup Time

•LBM!

•”He’s in the walls...”

•April 3rd Special! :D

Story Chapters: Eudaemon (Now on Ao3 too! :D)

•The Beginning

•Proper Introductions

•Dawn Of The Second Day

•Magical Meal

•Day 3

•Astrophilia

Ao3 Link!

Beautiful art by @nerdypear4 here!

•Quick vote

DP x Marvel Universe

•”Hey, Ron.” “Hey, Billy.”

DC x DP Prompts

•Accidentally Blessed

•Phantom Forest

•A Ghost Boy and His Wolf

•Tired Haunt

•Early Hero Gets The Adoptee

•Family Reunion

•More Wulf!

•Watchtower Ghost

DC x DP Headcanons

•Reasons to not trust the Justice League

•”Really? This guy?”

Seeing Double

Young Justice x Danny Phantom

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Friendship is Haunting

Mlp x Danny Phantom AU

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

DP Unnamed AU

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mochinomnoms · 2 months

Note

plot twist the nurse is mother gothel

🇫🇷

OKAY SO ACTUALLY—

I'll drop some fun facts about the Nurse here since all the other ocs have been introduced. And I like to refer to her in my writings even outside PTM.

Amara Goethel

“Doubling as the school nurse and a professor at Night Raven College, she teaches the health and wellness curriculum. She is a bit vain, insistent on maintaining a strict skincare routine, and refuses to tell anyone her age.”

Quick Facts:

Age: Unknown Height: 167 cm (5'5" ft) Homeland: Shaftlands Other Names(s): Ms. Orca (Floyd) Curriculum: Health and Wellness (Sexual Education, Nutrition, etc) Hobbies: Skincare Favorite Food: Hazelnut soup

Appearance

Amara has the appearance of a beautiful young woman with long curly brown hair, dark, narrow brown eyes, and fair skin. She has poliosis, which appears as a white patch of hair on her bangs, She often describes herself as “looking younger than her age,” implying she is much older than she visibly appears. She wears small diamond shaped earrings; a black and gold stethoscope around her neck, and a ruby jeweled magic pen in her breast pocket.

She wears a short crimson-colored military nurse dress with a golden flower covered by a white cross stitched on the left breast pocket; the collar and cuffs are colored amber, as well as her name tag; the floral cross is also stitched as a patch on her left arm. Her pants are slim fitting black scrubs, while her shoes are crimson nurse clogs. She also wears white gloves.

She is often seen carrying a clipboard and pen when tending to students in the infirmary.

Personality

Amara is often regarded motherly to the freshmen students, who are required to take a sexual health and education class as part of their curriculum. She has a particular shine to the MC, who she takes under her care after being placed in the Ramshackle Dorm by Crowley.

Trivia

Amara is married to an unnamed wife, and has two children, named Cassia and Rampion.

Amara has stated that she previously wanted more children, but that the students at Night Raven College have dissuaded her from having any more than the two she already has.

Amara has displayed distaste for the college being an “all-boys” school, believing that the lack of interaction with women prevents the young men of the campus from “knowing the proper way to interact with a young lady their age”

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #🇫🇷 anon

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historicity-was-already-taken · 4 months

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I want to echo all the nice things people have said about your work, and add one more: I appreciate that your blog offers space to mourn the Holocaust. Not the Holocaust as a metaphor, not the Holocaust as a rhetorical invocation, but the Holocaust in and of itself. It provides a sobering kind of relief. When I was a kid learning about the Holocaust, my classes always showed me Life is Beautiful and The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (UGH) and one teacher insisted that she wanted me to understand "how the Jews kicked Hitler's ass!" Which... no. On so many levels. So I admire how your work holds the dialectical truths of mass tragedy and brave resistance. Your scholarship matters, your mental health matters, and I can't wait to read your book next year!

This message is so lovely I was too verklempt to even answer it last night. Thank you, so much, for taking the time to write and send this.

And yes I totally get what you mean. It's not some, as you put it, rhetorical invocation populated by faceless martyrs, but the very real murders of millions of real, flawed, living, breathing humans. I think the rhetorical version, with its ideologies and hagiographies, is easier to swallow.

I hate most Holocaust movies. At least, American ones. They just want so badly for there to be a happy ending and...the Holocaust doesn't have one. [Unnamed legendary Jewish director] optioned the rights to [book similar in scope to mine which came out in the last 4 years] and I'm not even upset, because I don't enjoy that director's gentile-focused quasi-uplifting attempts to depict said events. Hitler said he was going to destroy the majority of European Jewry, and he did. In the space of 12 years he destroyed civilizations, cultures, and languages spanning 1000+ years; more, if you hold him responsible for the ethnic cleansing of MENA Jewish communities post-1948. Nothing uplifting there.

That's why I think I like weird, post-modern, magical realist approaches to Holocaust fiction [see: my boyfriend recently convinced me to watch Jojo Rabbit and Inglorious Basterds]. Telling any of these stories doesn't fit into Western narrative conventions. So make it weird; have the characters dance to David Bowie; make it a Western with subtitles; make the audience wonder if magic or just mundane in the specific context of the story. That's, imo, the only way to capture the sheer unreality of these very real events in fiction. I would LOVE a work of magical realist Holocaust fiction that involves the golem of Prague (if it exists omg tell me!) or something similar. Keeping in mind, of course, that I'm neither a film not a literary scholar. Just, as a historian who took one cultural criticism course in undergrad, those feels the most...right.

And oy your teacher. I feel for her; this is a difficult subject to teach. But...the Jews didn't kick Hitler's ass. That's the opposite of what happened. The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising is the most famous instance of organized Jewish resistance to the Holocaust, and those fighters only kicked ass until the Nazis (quickly) realized that they needed reinforcements and flamethrowers because oops these Jews came prepared. And even the fighters themselves knew that they weren't going to "win" anything. They were making a symbolic historical gesture/statement and fully expected to die. To the point that survivors almost uniformly express in their memoirs and testimonies that the ones who died fighting were the only real heroes and they rest of them are nbd, and this isn't something that should be talked about (which, is something that I'm trying to respect in my book! Like the fact that Zivia Lubetkin utterly rejected any attempt to describe her as a hero matters, even though that's how I personally view her).

Anyway I've rambled enough. Thank you again for the message!

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