#he went by ulysses since he was a kid i think

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 20 of Nona the Ninth

I suspect Hot Sauce will be back. I don't think her only contribution to the plot will be to headshot Nona. We also haven't learned why she's called Hot Sauce yet, which I feel is still a loose string

Ok, so they just thought that Nona was going to chill unconsciously for a while and I guess them shooting at her was just a reaction to hearing her beat down the door? And obviously they shackled Camilla and Palamedes because Palamedes did observable necromancy on Nona earlier

Is that the secret she told Hot Sauce? Hot Sauce thought it could be solved with organ transplants, but maybe she was just speculating. Palamedes thinks the problem is that her body is rejecting her soul, so not actually a physical problem. But wouldn't Pyrrha also have been having the same problem? Or is her situation special because G1deon became a Lyctor and she was just tagging along for 10,000 years? And Harrow went half of her life with Alecto haunting her, but maybe she didn't get kicked out because she wasn't the primary person in control of her body, sort of like how Palamedes isn't getting kicked out of Camilla? And Wake was stuck in a sword for 18 years, but maybe inanimate objects aren't opinionated about what soul they're being possessed by

And also... Ulysses and Titania were already dead before John ever knew them, and it sounds like we don't actually know whether or not John found their original souls when bringing them back to life, or if it was two random other souls - wouldn't their bodies have rejected the new souls if they weren't the actual original souls, if what Palamedes is saying in this chapter is true? If I remember the timeline right, they didn't become Lyctors for like hundreds of years after the Resurrection

This is a great point that I don't think has been explained yet - Lyctors' bodies are invisible to other necromancers, even to other Lyctors, but Palamedes did something to Cytherea's body back in Gideon the Ninth that helped kill her. So how did he do that? Even Harrow as a Lyctor wasn't able to do anything to G1deon's body without getting him to eat her own bone marrow

Ugh. I don't get like ~~feelings~~ about the whole Palamedes/Dulcinea thing because I feel like it was kind of awful and not a fun way, but still

So this obviously isn't going to happen now that he's spelled it out, but that honestly is exactly what I'd expect out of this story at this point

Is "water bottle" a reference to something?

I mean, we already have several examples of Lyctorhood that can't be described as "half-dead cannibals" or "a mutual death" - we have G1deon and Pyrrha who were both alive in the same body, and they were supposedly an actual Lyctor and not like Harrow was, and then there was John and Alecto, who both survived in different bodies and may have conditional immortality supported by the other person. But Palamedes thinks that "true Lyctorhood" is when both people die? Or does he think that all the existing Lyctors are just at an incomplete stage of a longer process that results in the death of both people? Did John and Alecto both die during whatever happened to them? I mean, obviously Alecto died at some point, but I'm very muddy still on what are the exact conditions that cause a planet to die other than it being flipped with necromancy

I hope Camilla/Palamedes and Nona do go to visit Gideon soon, since that seems to be where most of the other interesting characters have wound up as of the end of this chapter

So in addition to being the Angel, and also "Aim", which is probably the first word of a BOE name, they're also "the Messenger". "The Angel" was the name the kids gave them, and angels are messengers in Christian theology, but it's really not clear to what extent Christianity or Christian theology has survived in any population in this book, and if John imported the idea of angels into Nine Houses theology, that hasn't been mentioned anywhere in any book yet, so it's not clear what "angel" actually means to either the Nine Houses characters or the New Rho characters or the BOE characters. If we go with the idea that people are still speaking Modern English somehow, then I guess it's possible that "angel" survived as a word meaning "messenger" in House/English, although that seems unlikely to me since in most vernacular contexts it just means something along the lines of "being of supreme goodness" these days. But are we meant to conclude that the kids heard someone call the Angel "the Messenger" in some language and translated that into "The Angel" in House/English? And again we have they/them pronouns, and no explanation of why they are important or the reason for all the special rules around them

Also I do love that We Suffer's reaction to chapter 19 was "you're the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. Lots of blood and guts, very impressive, 10/10"

I guess the "key" is Gideon's body, because it open the Tomb? I'm curious as to what exactly We Suffer knows about that

Hmm, I guess from Corona's perspective, it would have made sense for Harrow to tell people about meeting them, Camilla extracted her promise to not tell anyone when Corona couldn't see or hear them

Funny that this is the version of this they play. I love how Corona has been trash-talking Judith for ages, but I honestly think this is just how the twins express affection for people? When we're first introduced to Ianthe she's trash-talking Corona, and they both trash-talk Babs despite the fact that I think Corona at least liked him, but for some reason Ianthe assumed that when Corona was trash-talking Judith it was because she didn't like her

It's pretty funny that Judith described Corona as having been "radicalized" in As Yet Unsent, but now it's Corona who takes the risk to rescue Judith from BOE and bring her back to the Nine Houses. I don't think Corona is actually loyal to any side at this point, she just wants to save Judith, and possibly be with Ianthe, although I'm not sure about that, either - if Ianthe keeps insisting that the best thing to do with Judith is mercy-kill her, I think Corona may switch sides again in the future. She seemed genuinely swayed by what BOE told her in As Yet Unsent, but I think she's ultimately more like Pyrrha where she thinks it's all fucked and just wants to protect her loved ones, rather than being like Palamedes who wanted to go be a big damn hero and find a way to save all the people in the cages and all the people in the barracks. Or maybe Corona is still loyal to BOE, and just thought she could deliver Judith to safety and continue relaying information back? But she had to know that stealing Judith would be considered a betrayal regardless

Who is John's "real" enemy if it isn't BOE? There are the resurrection beasts, for sure, but I'm not sure they actually have the ability to keep fighting them now that it's just Ianthe and John

I'm not sure why Camilla seems to telling We Suffer not to kill (presumably) Ianthe (or, I guess, Naberius's body)? I don't think Camilla has any love for Ianthe and probably Babs getting headshot at this point would be at least a little inconvenient for her

It sounds like John is not in a good place right now, between "mid-dismyriad crisis" and "I've been on-call as Teacher's whipping girl"

I'm curious what exactly Pyrrha told them. It definitely wasn't everything, because Ianthe is referring to "Harrow" and not "Nona", and also Ianthe didn't know anything about Judith being alive and a prisoner, and Judith was a major tactical element since they were using her to work the stele on their ship

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth

[worldwithinworld]

Cassius Should Have Lived for More (of the story).

I was very upset that Cassius died in Light Bringer because he's been my favorite character since the first book. However, I was careful not to rush to call it a bad choice to kill him off. I was worried that I might be biased because he was my fave, so I sat with it for a while and reflected on Cassius's role in the book and the series. I did like that we got so much of him in LB. Ultimately, though, I do think better choices could have been made with how to use him.

It felt like we went over a lot of old ground that we didn't need to. Cassisus and Sevro's conflict and resolution in LB was okay, but not nearly as good as in MS. I'd have rather seen them at a new point in their relationship, especially after a decade of life experience. For example, how interesting would it have been to have Cassius expect to have Sevro say, "I told you we should have killed Lysander as a kid!" only for Sevro instead to tell him he's changed his mind because he's a father now? That could have led to meaningful connection between them. Instead, we got Sevro & Cassius using Lysander and Ulysses to hurt each other.

There was also a lot of emphasis on Cassius's redemption, but I felt he'd proven himself well in MS & IG, especially in Darrow's eyes. We already knew that Cassius believed in the ideals of the Rising. He didn't need to rescue all those kids from the Obsidians to show that (sweet and brave as it was). Darrow already put his faith in him at the end of MS and asked him to stay and help build the Republic. Why does he show so much doubt in Cassius in LB? Even at the end, he's thinking how he wished Cassius had come around to their side sooner, as if Cassius hadn't spent over a decade helping out people of all colors whenever he found them in need. Sure, you can always grow more as a person, and redemption can be complicated, but I didn't like how redemption was treated as such a big thing in Cassius's story at this point in the story. I felt like it was time to move on to something new in his journey.

Finally, Cassius's death felt so much like Alexandar's that it seemed like Brown really wanted Lysander to have a scene like that to lead into the final book. So when he decided to add an extra book, he basically repeated the scene, but with an even bigger character to hit the audience harder.

It would have been more interesting to have Cassius return to the Core publicly and face everyone who had all these preconceived ideas of who he was. He talked about not wanting to return to that because he was afraid, so let us see him do it! Also, we could have seen Cassius choose his place in this new society, no longer burdened and chained by the expectations of his family and caste.(Though, of course, he'd have an excellent confrontation scene with Julia). That would have been a more interesting and fresher character arc for him.

#red rising #light bringer #morning star #iron gold #light bringer spoilers #cassius au bellona #sevro au barca #lysander au lune #Ulysses au barca #darrow #Julia au bellona #pierce brown #opinion and analysis

[leechiourdes]

Ticciwork headcanons because I adore them together (also; rant about Clockwork after the hcs)

Since its pretty hard for them to go out on "normal" dates (because of the whole...serial killer thing) their ideal date is going out on little trips through the Forest. They'll set up picnics by lakes, stargaze during the earliest of mornings or the latest of nights, sit together by rivers and watch the water rush by, simple little things like that. Of course, they'll also have the occasional going out to kill an innocent family of five "dates" together.

Clockwork still draws for fun, and she always shows her drawings to Toby. When they first started dating, she was pretty scared of showing them to him (considering how she lost her last boyfriend) but Toby loved them. Seeing how he's also well acquainted with blood, guts, gore, and the smell of rotting flesh, Nat's gore art isn't repulsive or shocking to him.

They aren't too big on pda. Toby's got ADHD and all the sensory issues that come with it, so he doesn't really like being touched in any way. Nat doesn't like being touched because it reminds her of her brother. Instead, they give copious amounts of sweet talk to one another, get each other nice gifts, help each other out when they're having trouble with something, and comfort each other if they're feeling sad or scared.

They don't usually sleep in the same bed, but occasionally will, especially if either of them are going through an episode.

They like to watch movies at home. They will fr kick everyone else out of the Mansion's living room so they can be alone and watch their Adam Sandler movies together

If they were to ever have a child together, they would probably name the kid Quincy because they're both terrible at naming things. (If not Quincy, then Ulysses, Dakota or Morgan)

Before they were dating, it was Toby who caught feelings for Nat first. He thought she was really cool, but that she was way out of his league and wouldn't even think about doing so much as holding his hand. He would endlessly talk about his crush on her to EJ, since he knew that he was the only one who would keep it a secret.

It got so bad EJ eventually said "Just tell her how you feel and be yourself." Toby was so inspired by these words he went up to Nat and said "Hey girl, your ass makes me forget about my dead family." Suffice to say, Nat fell in love instantly.

I really don't like how the fandom portrays Clockwork. I see her being depicted as this stone-cold, tough as nails, ass-kicking, emotionless girlboss who either hates a person or tolerates them, no inbetween. I don't like that characterization at all. Seeing as she was or is canonically dating Toby, and Toby's general personality is pretty much agreed to be "angsty, really odd pyromaniac-adjacent guy who probably watched Spiderverse once and it became his whole personality for like a week," I feel like Natalie should be like, more similar to him, you know?? Like, I feel with the type of person Toby is, he wouldn't like dating someone like the current fanon Clockwork. She seems like the type of be a sarcastic, easygoing person who loves watching those documentaries about how popular bands broke up late at night, not as cold and distant as people portray her as. Idk, that's just me, but I get really frustrated when I see her characterized like this. I NEED her to loosen up! I NEED her to stop being such a hardass! I NEED the fandom's characterization of her to CHANGE!!

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #clockwork #natalie ouellette #toby rogers #ticciwork

[caesarsaladinn]

One of my favorite facts is that the S in “Ulysses S. Grant” stands for absolutely nothing.

He was born Hiram Ulysses Grant, but the congressman who wrote his West Point recommendation messed it up on the paperwork and despite his protests the Army was unable to correct it, so it just kinda stuck.

#he went by ulysses since he was a kid i think #but the s is completely manufactured #history

[junkworldusa]

belated book asks, thank you for indulging me!

1- What book are you currently reading? bros karamazov, 2/3s through atm.

i hate that i’m thinking about pathologic (video game) the entire time but i can't help it. the way characters are constantly bursting into people's houses & going "you’re an angel, you're the best person i've ever met, you're a saint" to someone they just met 5 minutes ago is so. distinct. i joked on twitter that the first half of the book is just alyosha running around completing sidequests, which i still think is true, but once i got to the grand inquisitor part i was like "Okay mr dostoevsky, you’ve got me."

2- What book did you recently finish? "selections from science & sanity" by alfred korzybski, recently featured in the gumby quotes. a while back i listened to a 6 hour long interview with robert anton wilson where he talks about korzybski & general semantics so i gave it a shot. it's an abridged version of a 900 page book & i definitely plan on reading the full work at some point, it's wild. if you’re interested in language, consciousness, the gap between words & meaning, and/or hacking your brain i would recommend it. he repeats himself a lot but that's a side effect of his pedagogy, the goal of which is the eventual re-wiring of your entire nervous system in order to achieve a more rational worldview/healthier reactions to things. (so repetition via words/sounds/actions is necessary 2 engage the organism-as-a-whole.) the most important takeaway for me is that everything & everyone you interact with is a completely unique object, and this necessarily extends to temporality-- Bob in 1999 is NOT the same person as Bob in 2010, and treating them as though they were is a harmful mistake. interestingly enough, im taking a class with J.F. martel (weird studies podcast, author of "reclaiming art in the age of artifice") & last night he said what amounts to exactly the same thing, except he was arguing for like, a soft animism (i-thou vs. i- it) & korzybski was arguing for a more "rational" & secular world. so fascinating.

3- What’s a book that’s been on your to-read list for a long time? ulysses. i know. i know. i have a copy but keep bouncing off of it. idk why, i liked portrait of the artist as a young man. i think i’m worried i’ll turn into this person:

4- What’s the next book you’re hoping to read? i just got "speech play: research & resources for the study of linguistic creativity" in the mail so probably that. i'm on a childlore kick rn & this is like... horizontally related 5- Is there a book you own, but aren’t planning on reading?

around 2 years ago i was walking home after a show high on E & i ran into a guy i had met at work a couple times. went over to his apartment because MDMA is like, "everything is SO meaningful and SO much fun." i barely remember our conversation but he ended up being like "you would like this book, here take it, i have 3 copies." so i now own a copy of "the eater of darkness" by robert m coates. i still haven't read it. the moral of this story is [???]

6- What was your favorite series as a kid? Would you still read it now? so many of you asked this question :P

THE TRUTH: i was obsessed with lotr from age 8 to 13 with a level of dedication that i've never known since. yes, i would still read it now. i reread the silmarillion last year & it was naturally a way more rewarding experience than when i was a kid! 8- Fantasy or sci-fi? i like & have read a lot of older sf/f (le guin asimov pkd etc etc) but im not actively into either nowadays. i read whatever reaches me from the queer sf/f twitter pipeline (like whatever's on wizards vs lesbians) but otherwise dont pay much attention. so the answer is "idk!!!”

12- Have you ever read a celebrity memoir? If so, whose was it? the only memoir i've read in recent years has been "memories, dreams, reflections" so if jung counts as a celebrity, there you go 14- Fiction or non-fiction? non-fiction in both quantity of books owned & what i prefer reading. i almost view them as 2 separate activities bc the motivation for & experience of reading them are so wildly different 15- Favorite fiction genre? i know i said im not "actively into" sci fi but 16- Favorite non-fiction genre? "philosophy" i guess. i also really love any phenomenological/experience-based studies of paranormal stuff, like "the terror that comes in the night" by david hufford or anything by jacques vallée. basically books that both a) take strange experiences seriously & b) examine/catalogue them scientifically (to whatever degree). 

22- How do you organize your books? “poorly” 26- What’s your favorite book? fav non-fiction book: “time loops” by eric wargo. what if freud's career-making "irma dream" was a premonitory dream about the oral cancer that would severely impede his quality of life in his old age? (fantastic blog entry by the author, serves as a kind of intro to this topic: http://thenightshirt.com/?p=4326 )

when i read “time loops” it felt like everything i had ever read (& will ever read future tense) was for the sole purpose of understanding it. “time loops” picks up where J.W. dunne's 1927 "an experiment with time" left off. i won't say too much more about it but everyone should read it. it's so smart & engaging & will totally blow your miiiind, maaaan speaking of "an experiment with time," in 1964 a guy named vladimir nabokov began an experiment of his own following the directions dunne laid out in his book. dunne encouraged readers to write down their dreams in order to test the theory that a later event could generate an earlier dream.

nabokov’s experiment with dreams & time strongly influenced “ada or ardor: a family chronicle” which happens to be my favorite novel. i first read it when i was 18, and i've reread it 3 times since then (with the help of ada online, my beloved http://www.ada.auckland.ac.nz/ ) i would not recommend this book to anyone who doesn’t already like nabokov & know what he’s about. it’s fucked up & self indulgent & i love it so much

30- What character do you connect with the most? when jung said he was bad at math? i felt that

#asks

[acquariusgb]

The Clinton Tapes extracts of Bill as a father

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day in the US, here are some cute extracts from the book the Clinton Tapes by Taylor Branch about Bill being a wonderful father to Chelsea.  

-  Chelsea stopped by, neat as a pin, talking about an exam on Spanish verbs. She said good night and a preliminary goodbye for his long trip. When she was gone, Clinton said former president Bush had been encouraging him to spend more time at Camp David. Bush was hearing of low morale in its vast, attentive support staff, which remained isolated and idle because the Clintons almost never visited. The president said that while he appreciated such concerns, he saw few opportunities to change soon. Chelsea was fourteen years old. The last thing she wished for was a weekend at Camp David, which to her was the middle of nowhere. She stayed home, and her parents wanted to be apart from her as little as possible. So Camp David must wait. May 1994

- When Chelsea stopped by, the president tried to set a time to play cards, or just to talk. He said he had not seen her for a while, but she excused herself to get up early. Clinton looked a bit forlorn, telling me she had a summer job at the National Institutes of Health. July 1994

- Chelsea came in fretting about homework. In an exercise to hone succinct composition, she was writing an essay of no more than one page on the best and worst qualities in the legendary character Dr. Frankenstein, with illustrative passages from the Mary Shelley novel. Chelsea said her draft spilled stubbornly onto a second page, which was unacceptable, and she expressed doubt about her choice of quotations. The president paused to give counsel, and I left the recorders on as he read most of her essay out loud. He liked its cited images of Frankenstein’s passion for learning, enthralled in his lab, cheeks sallow with intense discovery, but he thought Chelsea was slightly ambiguous about whether his best quality was curiosity or ambition. On the negative side, where she wisely pinpointed an overbearing pride as the chief fault, he said she might find shorter, more precise quotes. We both complimented her language about the progressive blindness of Frankenstein’s zeal. Instead of creating life, Chelsea concluded, the mad doctor faced a “monster who had become his bane.” She went off to make revisions, and Clinton promised to consult her again before saying good night. May 1995

-   A festering wound could damage sensitive U.S.-Japanese relations for years, Gore warned. Clinton must visit Japan quickly to make amends. Just today, the president told me, he and Gore had tramped back and forth over a crowded calendar. December was out because of nightly Christmas parties, and so on, until Clinton circled dates next April. Horrified, Gore said that would be months too late, especially since the White House was announcing a peace trip to Europe for next week. Why not substitute Japan for Northern Ireland? Alternatively, Gore zeroed in on three lightly committed January days, but the president pronounced them vital to Chelsea’s schoolwork. Gore blinked. So what? He stared through Clinton’s halting explanation why this would be a bad time—because Hillary must join him in Japan, and junior-year midterms are the most pressure-packed events in all of high school. Mutual exasperation spiked. “Al,” Clinton told him, “I am not going to Japan and leave Chelsea by herself to take these exams.” Gore erupted. He thought Clinton had lost his bearings. They had a big fight, said the president, and were still wrangling about dates for Japan. November 1995

- During this preview of the campaign, Chelsea popped in the doorway to say she was sorry she may have disturbed us. She had been singing to herself in the hall, and did not realize we were here. Before he could reply, she vanished, and while I was rewinding the tapes shortly afterward, the president rummaged around the big Ulysses Grant desk. A decade ago, when she was about six, he said Chelsea had skipped into a ceremony at the governor’s office with a briefcase, which he was obliged to open in front of everyone. He showed me a photograph of little Chelsea doubled over in laughter as Clinton squeamishly displayed a boa constrictor inside. His daughter was cheerful and courteous, he said, but she was mischievous, too. May 1996

-  His voice surprised me again on Sunday, July 7. He had just finished testifying by videotape for one of the Whitewater criminal trials, in which Ken Starr’s deputy prosecutors were trying to tar him with far-fetched charges against Arkansas bankers. The president was tired, and really needed to spend time with Chelsea. So we must cancel our session tonight. He vowed to catch up soon. Of course, I replied. His staff always handled such logistics, but for some reason he delivered this notice himself. July 1996

-   Clinton told stories about Chelsea on our way down the hall. He and Hillary had just returned from her ballet recital. “She’s not an ideal body for a ballerina,” he reflected. “Far from it.” Chelsea was bigger than most of the other girls, who were flat-chested and tiny. She had big bones. Her feet had bled after practice ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, she pursued ballet above other arts or sports for which she was more naturally suited. “I’ve always admired that,” he said. “I’ve wondered whether I could ever stick with something for its own sake.” He was inclined to obsess about competitive standing and talent, he said, whereas Chelsea, though smartly aware of her limits, loved everything about ballet including the hard work. August 1996

-  Then he lingered on Chelsea’s seventeenth birthday. Because Hillary had been late to dinner at Washington’s Bombay Club, Clinton found himself the delighted sole host to a dozen high school girls in raucous discussions of love and the world. [...] The president glided into stories wholly off my list. Chelsea’s Sidwell Friends School had welcomed seniors to make two-minute spontaneous remarks at a gathering of fathers. On a theme of candid revelation, one girl told the assembly why she and her dad communicated by letter in the same house. Chelsea almost knocked Clinton over, he said, with raw eloquence cutting through the inhibitions of youth and the public eye. She confessed setting her heart all year on tryouts for a part in The Nutcracker, which she did not get. Life’s first major disappointment, as she called it, left her depressed and sleepless, consumed by failure. She could think of nothing but wasted sacrifice. Both parents talked with her late many nights, but she was inconsolable until she woke up fitfully to a letter only an hour old, headed “3am” on her father’s White House stationery. It said he could not sleep, either, being upset because she was upset. He loved her, was proud of her, and believed one day she would find new value in her years of ballet. Somehow these words dispelled a cloud of absorption, she told Sidwell. She still read the note every day. As for his work, she admired what he did in the face of so much invective, but it had not always been so. In preschool, she had cringed as the other children stood proudly to declare their parents’ jobs—doctor, fireman, teacher. Not even she had a clue about governor, and so Chelsea in turn said her mom was a lawyer and her dad cooked the French fries at McDonald’s. She became an instant hit, with by far the coolest dad, but of course the grownups made her promise not to tell lies. Apologizing later to the class, she thought her father just talked on the phone and made speeches, which got the kids briefly excited again because they thought she said he made peaches. February 1997

#the clintons #bill clinton #chelsea clinton #father and daughter

[quicksiluers]

For the ship prompt list, 15 and Grant/Sherman

so 15 was the "meeting in the E.R/A&E au"! I'll put it under the cut cause it's over 1,000 words lol

Pain shot up his arm again, Grant gritting hit teeth to bite back a hiss. The room around him was bustling with activity, parents comforting children, nurses running back and forth. He had picked a bad night to get injured and end up in the ER.

Just his luck.

Cradling his arm gently in his lap, the brunette shifted around in his chair. He had been waiting for almost thirty minutes. A nurse had come by a few moments ago, saying that they would call for him soon, and Grant had given her a small smile with a nod. The apologetic look on her face told him it was going to be longer.

Normally, he would be fine waiting. He counted himself as a patient person. But the pain was starting the claw at that patience. And to make matters worse, he could already tell a headache was starting to form. The screaming kids didn’t help. The sterile smell of the room made it worse.

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand, Grant closed his eyes and tried to block out all the sound. If he could just have a quiet moment…

“Is anyone sitting there?”

Grant looked up, squinting his eyes at the bright room lights. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A tall, lanky, redhead man stared down at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Uhhh…no.” he replied.

“Great.” The redhead sat down, slumping down into the seat. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

Grant looked over him quickly, looking for an injury, but didn’t see anything. He frowned, confused, but turned away. It was none of his business. Though he was puzzled why the other man hadn’t picked any other around the room. There was plenty of empty spaces.

“What are you here for?”

The voice surprised him again. He turned back and was met with amber eyes looking over him. Grant felt his face flush slightly.

“My arm,” he waved his other hand over it. He flexed the fingers of the hurt hand, trying to rid himself of the tingling feeling that was building up, “I was riding with a friend of mine. And I was…thrown off.”

“Riding?”

“Sorry, horse riding…,” he clarified, scratching the side of his cheek.

“Really?” The other man sat up, seemingly more interested then before. “I didn’t take you for that type.”

That made Grant raise an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yeah, you just seemed like…maybe a hockey player or something. What with the beard and the intense stare.”

Even people who knew him for less then five minutes commented on the stare. He’d have to keep that from Longstreet. His friend never stopped teasing him about it.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint…” Grant mumbled, rubbing his bruised wrist lightly. It was starting to swell as well, which made him groan. Tomorrow was going to be a rough day.

“Hey, I didn’t say it disappointed me,” the redhead countered, catching his gaze, “I was just shocked is all. I mean it’s great, I love riding horses too. I’m new to the area and I didn’t realize that there was anything like that around here. It’s been years since I did it but I remember the feeling and the power behind in and…“

Grant’s head felt like it was spinning with how fast the other man was talking. But he seemed so excited. He watched and listened to him talk about his adventures out on his farm fields back in Ohio, riding with his brother and others in their small town. The other man became extremely animated, his hands acting like a horse when he was trying to demonstrate the jumping they used to do.

“But you said your horse threw you off?”

Grant blinked, taken aback by the focus coming back to him. The redhead was looking at him a concerned expression, his eyes glancing down to his injured arm. The brunette felt his face flush at the attention.

“Um, yes…, it’s really not too bad. The horse…he got a bit spooked,” Grant laughed lightly, shaking his head, “My friend had warned me against it but…well…”

The other man stared at him expectedly, seemingly hanging on his words. The attention made Grant squirm slightly. It was different when he was in a competition. People were focused on his horse more then him. That was how he preferred it.

Plus the situation was embarrassing. Longstreet had warned him against it, told him that the horse, York, had been skittish most of the day. But Grant had waved him aside, appreciating the concern but fully confident that he could ride York. There wasn’t a horse he hadn’t been able to tame.

The pain in his arm and headache plaguing him seemingly laughed at that arrogance.

“I should have listened to my friend,” he conceded. Grant didn’t need to spill out his whole life to a stranger, “And now I’m here.”

“And how long have you been here?”

“Uh…,” Grant glanced down at his watch, “I guess 45 minutes now.”

The red head frowned, “No, that won’t do,” standing up, the man crossed the room toward the main counter. A nurse turned toward him, but Grant wasn’t able to see her expression.

Grant watched, groaning inwardly. He hated being a bother, especially when a place like this was busy. It really wasn’t that bad. The pain had ebbed away, though the tingling feeling had become more of nuisance. But there was probably someone who needed more attention then him.

“Hey!”

The redhead was waving his hand, a triumph smile on his face. A wave of embarrassment came over Grant. It really wasn’t necessary for him to do this.

Carefully he rose from his chair, hissing when he moved his arm slightly to cradle it against his chest. As he walked closer, he noticed that there was another man beside the nurse who looked like the redhead. He seemed slightly younger, his hair not as red but styled in a similar fashion. Grant’s eyes darted back and forth between the two.

“My brother will take a look at you,” the redhead explained, his smile growing, “I was here to get him cause his car’s in the shop…”

“Because you crashed it Cump…”

The stranger waved him off, his gaze not leaving Grant, “Don’t listen to him. But I guess do listen to him because he’ll take care of you. Though if he’s saying anything bad about me…” Grant smiled, “I think I got it. You didn’t really need to…but thank you…?” he paused, shaking his head, “I didn’t catch your name. I should have asked, I’m sorry.”

“That’s Cump for you,” his brother laughed, leaning over the counter, looking between the two of them, “He probably just talked your ear off without even trying to introduce himself.”

The smile on Grant’s face spread, “That sounds about right.”

“Hey now, don’t gang up on me with him,” ‘Cump’ grumbled, handing sitting on his hips. He was glaring at his brother, who raised any eyebrow at look, which made Grant laugh lightly.

“Well, do your little introduction to,” his brother glanced down at the clipboard the nurse had handed him, “Ulysses S. Grant?”

“Just ‘Grant’ is fine.”

“William T. Sherman,” the redhead held out his hand, then switched it to the other hand, “sorry, almost forgot you can’t…”

“It’s fine,” Grant teased, grabbing his hand. The shake was firm, a odd feeling going through his arm as their hands stayed together. It was unfamiliar.

Sherman’s brother came through the door and motioned him to follow. Grant followed him before turning back slightly, looking over the mysterious redhead. The smile was still on his face, watching him. Something lingered in his eyes that the brunette couldn’t place but an odd feeling fluttered in the pit of his stomach. He felt a flush of heat go to his face before he waved and went through the doors.

It was probably just the pain from his arm. Nothing more then that.

#replies #writing prompt ask #i was at first thinking sherman would come in with a super dumb injury but then was like how about we make this easier for me lol #i didn't mention it but...i made his brother john a doctor cause why the fuck not #thanks for asking! #also i feel like grant is the type of guy who would try to keep an injury to himself #so i'm sure he told longstreet that he was totally fine...after being thrown off a horse lol #longstreet is like i swear to god sam

[morticious-delicious]

So, when I was little my cousin and then my brother got into DnD and then, before our parents heard it was satanic and tried to make them stop, I read through all their books and lore and manuals and saw unicorns and dragons and wizards and coveted their shiny gem-like die and was like HEARTEYES MOTHERFUCKR

I immediately made 18 characters and drew them like, constantly. I drew creatures. I drew monsters. I drew heroes and villains and wizards and druids and everything. And of course, I asked to be included in my brothers game (he was trying to get the neighborhood kids to play and ... iiiii don’t think they were as into it as he wanted). Then he let me play but then killed off my character right quick. Good thing I had more! 

Yeah it was a massacre They all died and he threw me out of his room with my spent character sheets and broken dreams.

(I dont think I've drawn that much since u_u).

Anyway!!! Enough of my sad backstory..

So my kid mentions wanting to do a campaign like, with my family on one of our weekly family days (Ambitchous!). And as we were discussing character creation, I found myself kinda inspired by everyones creativity and enthusiasm? I reached impulsively for my sketch book and: 

My baby sisters Eagle-person ranger (I went more secretary bird from Aggretsuko)

My middle sisters Dragonborn rogue (though she admitted later she thought she was gonna be a full blown dragon and wants to change it)

And my new daughters Tabaxi thief (early and then after seeing her character in heroforge)

And like, after the discovery of Heroforge... it was easy to make everyone but like... they aren’y quiiiite perfect. 

SO I STARTED DRAWING?!?! AND FINISHED A THING!??!?! 

AND I LOVE THEM!??!?!

Anyway, I’m kinda surprised at how much I love them (my gender fluid Half Orc Barbarian whose a Leo, self proclaimed “Folk Hero” and chaotic dumbass who can communicate with animals but misinterprets fucking EVERYTHING they say). I went with something completely off brand for me (I’m a magic user usually and MOSTLY A SELF INSERT and don’t even LIKE half-orcs?!?)

So yeah thanks DND and my kid for giving me my juice back. 

And you’ll prob be seeing more of Ulysses

#Dungeons and Dragons #Also I told my brothers son that he used to kill all my characters and I'm back for revenge and #honestly I think he's on my side with that

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 4 - CHAPTER 2

Well, that definitely wasn’t planned...

XANTHOS

Xanthos grumbled for the third time in the space of ten minutes. “I should be out there helping - I feel useless being forced to stay in here.”

Wren smiled weakly at his left - he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was sick of his complaining by now. “If it makes you feel any better, think of yourself as mine and Cala’s protector in case anything goes wrong, rather than being cooped up in here due to not being hundred percent yet.”

Xanthos didn’t want to repeat that he felt fine, so smiled back. After his run-in with Belleza and Miho three days prior, Zelde had been the one to insist he stay with Calantha and Wren instead of patrolling for Belleza like the rest. Though he had protested, Zelde understandably wanted to be cautious after being caught out by the eldest Rossi again, and claimed he was not yet fighting fit. 

“Thanks, Wren. But I’ve seen what you did to that Karkadan, I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself with or without me.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Ravi,” Wren assured him. “I’ve seen a marked improvement in you and the rest of your team since you joined us; those lessons are really paying off. I’m sure James will be glad to see how much you’ve all improved in person when you return to Atlas Academy.”

Xanthos smiled back appreciatively. Whilst he knew Wren was partly saying that to reassure him and make him feel better, Xanthos knew they were getting better. He had seen it in the way he and the rest of his teammates were fighting, how they all used their weapons and semblances more effectively, and how they all communicated better in and out of battle. 

Wren turned away from him, responding to a report from Cherry through her earpiece. Though he nor any of his teammates - nor Helia - had been given an ear piece they had all been split off into small teams to ensure there was still something of a clear line of communication. Parson was with Zelde and Cordovan, Cherry with Helia, Elio was by himself, and Morgan was paired with Neela.

To avoid eavesdropping, Xanthos stepped towards Calantha who was seated in an old plastic chair. Though her expression appeared neutral, her juddering leg betrayed her.

"You good?" He asked, resting a hand upon her shoulder in an action that made her flinch ever so slightly.

"Yes, I'm fine." She answered, turning her head to him and giving him a wide smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Your leg’s bouncing." He said simply, glancing down at her still bouncing leg. Calantha followed his gaze, and caught herself.

"I didn't even realise," She said, looking almost apologetic as she spoke. "Maybe I am a little nervous."

"I'd be concerned if you weren't." Xanthos chuckled. "My sister does the exact same thing, you know."

"I didn't know you had a sister. Is she older or younger than you?"

"Younger," Xanthos replied. "...Though she likes to think she's older sometimes."

"I bet you haven't spoken to her for a while due to the CCT going down," Calantha mused. "You must miss her."

"Sure do," Xanthos confirmed with a nod of the head. "But Marisol is a strong kid, and even though I can't speak to her, I know she'll be safe with our mom."

Calantha smiled at him softly, and a part of him felt sympathy for her, realising she was probably missing a sister - at least one of them.

"You must miss yours too."

Calantha seemed a little surprised by the comment - perhaps not expecting him to bring her sisters up - but after a moment she nodded. "I miss Bianca," She confirmed, "I know Belleza only really said it to try and goad me when she said that Bianca was missing me... but I don't think she was too far off the mark."

"Are you close with her?" Xanthos asked politely. "She doesn't treat you like Belleza does she?"

"Oh no, Bianca is nothing like Belleza," Calantha responded, and despite an awkward laugh that followed her words, she seemed a little hurt at Xanthos implying Bianca was anything like their elder sister. "I won't deny they have similar goals, but Bianca would never stoop as low as Belleza to achieve them. She was the only one I was ever really close to at Olympia, always looking out for me and ensuring I was happy, or at least as happy as I could be given what our home was like. After our mother died and our father retreated more and more into himself, she was really the only family I had left in a sense. Belleza always saw me as an inconvenience, a weak link, rather than a sister. But Bianca...she was and still is my closest friend."

"At least one of your sisters has a shred of decency." Xanthos mumbled quietly. As an older sibling himself, he felt a sense of anger at the treatment she had endured at the hands of Belleza.

"It's kind of pathetic isn't it?" Calantha suddenly said, forcing a tired laugh.

"What is?"

"I'm eighteen years old and my two closest friends are my sister and Rosie - a child."

Xanthos looked at her with a sorrowful expression, and gave her another squeeze on the shoulder in a way of reassurance. This time Calantha didn't flinch away.

"You have us now too," He said, giving her a warm smile. “Don’t forget it.” She returned the gesture with an appreciative nod, and reached up to give his hand a gentle squeeze in return.

A sudden urgency in Wren’s voice drew Xanthos’s attention back to her. He shared a glance with Calantha, before moving back over to the veteran huntress. 

“Keep me updated as soon as you know.” 

Xanthos looked at her questioningly, silently gesturing for her to tell him what was going on.

“Elio thinks he saw someone matching Belleza’s description,” She explained in a hushed tone. Her gaze drifted beyond Xanthos and over to Calantha whose fidgeting had since resumed. “Is she alright?” Wren asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Just a little nervous,” Xanthos responded. “Can’t say I blame her really.”

“No... neither can I.” Wren nodded in agreement, a small sigh parting her lips.

Xanthos was suddenly aware of a muffled voice through the Huntress’s earpiece, and she jumped back to attention. She spoke briefly with Elio, before thanking him for keeping her in the loop. “False alarm - it wasn’t her.” Wren informed him.

They both breathed a sigh of relief at this, but it was short-lived as not moments later a call came through Calantha’s scroll. She jolted at the noise, and fumbled to get her scroll out of her pocket. 

She stared at the screen for a few seconds, frozen.

“It’s Belle.”

“Answer it.” Wren encouraged softly.

Calantha nodded hesitantly, before answering. “Hello, Belle. I’m- What? Yes, she’s here with me right now.” Calantha looked up at Wren warily. “She wants to be put on speaker. Should I do it?”

Wren considered this for a moment. “Do it.”

As Calantha put the call on speaker, Wren quickly spoke into her earpiece to let the others know she was about to speak with Belleza.

“You’re on speaker, Miss Rossi,” Wren said. “Where are you? We’ve been waiting.”

“Miss Rossi? My, isn't that formal!” Belleza laughed. “Is it just you and my sister I’m talking with?”

“I’m here,” Xanthos said abruptly, the words falling out of his mouth before he had a chance to even confer with Wren about whether he was allowed to talk.

“And who exactly is that supposed to be?”

“Xanthos Ravindra,” He said coldly. “You know, the boy whose arm you nearly dislocated before shoving into a broom closet.”

“You got off lightly, ‘Xanthos Ravindra’,” Belleza mocked. “Consider yourself lucky - had Miho and I not been interrupted you might have been sitting with the rest of my prisoners right about now.”

“Where are you, Belle?” Calantha inquired. “I’ve been waiting to do our trade off.”

“You’ll be waiting for a long time I fear.” Belleza said. “They’ve already been moved.”

Wren tensed a little beside him. “Let’s not play games here, Miss Rossi,” She warned. “We arranged a trade, let’s get it over and done with.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Belle, please,” Calantha attempted to appeal to her sister. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Oh, ho, ho, you’re one to talk, little lamb,” Belleza responded, her voice full of malice. “I know what you and your friends have been planning. I know that even stepping foot within the grounds of Astrolabe would be like signing off on my own prison sentence.”

“H-How?” Wren stammered. “How do you know this?” She added in a more demanding voice.

“Well, you just confirmed it for me, dimwit.” Belleza stated, using that falsely sweet tone of voice that set Xanthos on edge, her grin almost audible. It reminded him of his encounter with the eldest Rossi sibling three days prior.

“You might have taken Wisteria, but I’m guessing you haven’t asked her for any information?” Belleza continued. “Maybe if you had, you might have known about the little present a certain Ulysses Crest left us.”

Calantha suddenly seemed to understand the point her sister was making. Her free hand went to cover her mouth, as a look of realisation began to dawn on her face. 

Her voice trembled. “No…”

Wren and Xanthos shared a nervous glance. 

“I’d advise you to hand yourself in now, Miss Rossi,” Wren advised. “Things will be easier for you if you do so.”

“I already told you I can’t.”

“Damnit!” Wren snapped, her frustrations beginning to bubble over. “Stop playing games, Belleza! Where are you?!”

“I am going home,” Belleza said simply. “For now at least. If you wish to continue our little game you are welcome to come to Olympia and fight me on home turf. If not...well, I suspect we’ll see each other soon when the reckoning comes for you Atlesian nitwits.”

Wren’s eyes widened and Xanthos was more keenly aware of her shaking. “Rosie…” She said the name so softly, that had it not been for the fact he was standing so close, he might have heard her. Wren took a moment before speaking again. “Callaway. Mira. Rosie. You promised. If you don’t have the decency to show yourself, at least tell me that they’re safe!”

But rather than a civil response, all Wren got in response was bone-chilling laughter.

“You all wanted me to jump but you should have been the ones asking how high.”  Belleza sounded gleeful as she said that. “Enjoy the little gift I left for you.”

A small click signalled Belleza had disconnected from the call. The three of them did not have time to process what had just been said to them, before the thunderous roar of an explosion sounded nearby, and Astrolabe University went up in flames.

#team zrcn fic #team ZRCN #Xanthos Ravindra #wren honeycutt #calantha rossi #belleza rossi

[thebcwens]

『 avan jogia. thirty. cis man. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that JASPER BOWENS from MAIN STREET i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -SELF-DESTRUCTIVE & -IRRESPONSIBLE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool OWNER of STRINGS & THINGS MUSIC SHOP and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +SPONTANEOUS & +CARING. i hope i see them around again!

drugs tw, addiction tw, miscarriage tw, death tw ! @mapleviewstarters​

NAME : vincent jasper desai-bowens NICKNAME : jasp, vinnie (family and older mapleview residents only) SEXUALITY : pansexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS : in a relationship with paxton ZODIAC SIGN : aquarius PARENTS : james bowens and priya desai-bowens SIBLINGS : amir bowens (40), eva bowens-walker (40) RESIDENCY : a quaint and comfortable apartment near the music shop OCCUPATION : owner and manager of strings & things CHARACTER INSPO : ulysses zane (apocalypse now), klaus hargreeves (the umbrella academy), lito rodriguez (sense8), liam (high fidelity), frank n’ furter (the rocky horror picture show), laird mayhew (why him?).

CHILDHOOD

vincent jasper desai-bowens was born and raised in mapleview to an irish dad and an indian mother. james and priya bowens moved to mapleview in 1979, not long after they got married. james soon found himself a job at the factory and they decided to build their family in the small town.

the couple welcomed their twins not too long after, the golden boy and the wonderful girl were both named after priya’s late parents -- amir and eva. that’s when the bowens’ started to settle down and james made the bold decision to make money from his passion for music, quitting his job at the factory and buying the music store in town.

but then nearly ten years later, priya got pregnant with their third child. it was a risky pregnancy, since she was almost in her forties. they welcomed a strong and healthy baby -- who was named after james’ father and personal hero, a brave man that fought in the war. they were living the dream. that was, until vincent grew up.

being the youngest of three was hard. especially when your parents' had great expectations for you and your siblings’ were fucking geniuses and you were just, well, you. vincent was never the brightest kid or even interested in anything. he was the kid who’d bite others for no reason, yell at the teachers and break toys. he was the worst possible kid a parent could want but once his teenage years rolled in, the bowens’ knew he was never going to change.

TEENAGEHOOD

by the time vincent got to high school, he started to finally make friends for the first time. that’s when he met adrien and tba, who later on became his best and only friends. the teenage version of vincent wasn’t much different from the kid version, only this time the rebellious acts were in different ways -- vincent stopped attending church, would spend more time in detention than in class and would even pick fights for the hell of it. but what was the last straw for his father was when the rumors of vincent using drugs started to run around town. of course, it wasn’t like he was doing hard drugs or anything, but the bowens were a respectable family in mapleview.

to say james was furious was an understatement. and during their last fight, he told vincent he didn’t deserve the name he got and he was a lost cause. that’s when he dropped the name and started going by jasper. that was also the night he ran from home. only sixteen, with nowhere to go and no money to his name. he never talked to his dad again after that.

his sister eva, not wanting him to turn into a homeless person, took him in. but it still hasn’t enough. jasper started getting into a darker path and eventually into heavy drugs. around that time, jasper and his friends found a man that was almost dead. they saved his life but it always stuck with him. he watched as his friends were moved by the act, but he felt nothing. the only desire he had was to deepen himself in drugs. it didn’t take long for jasper to drop out of school and get kicked out of his sister’s house. he then became known as mapleview’s junkie and the bowens’ black sheep -- if he wasn’t already.

ADULTHOOD & NOW

because of his addiction, jasper pretty much pushed out every single friend he ever had from his life, refusing to drag them into his mess. when he turned twenty-one, he was in and out of rehab like it was a hobby. but during one stay, he met someone. and that someone gave him hope.

jasper was in love with her and he actually saw himself having a future for the first time. the boy even got a job so they could shack up together. after a year of being together, they found out she was pregnant. but the dream didn’t last long, she had a spontaneous miscarriage and that’s when things went downhill again.

feeling guilty about what happened to her and thinking that somehow it was his fault, jasper left her and fled to los angeles. he doesn’t talk much about what his life was like there.

about two years ago, jasper’s mom reached out to him with news that his father had passed. she told him about the plan his older siblings had of selling the music store since they had no interest in it, obviously too busy with their own lives to care, and asked that he’d come home to take over the business. he’s been the owner since.

his return to mapleview was a shock to everyone who hadn’t seen or heard from him in years, most of which just assumed he had died or something. and to be honest, if it wasn’t for his mom, he’d never step foot in town again. the amount of trauma that jasper went through would be enough to break anyone, but he’s managing. well, not really. but he’s trying.

RANDOM FACTS

only is ok with getting called “vincent” by his family and older mapleview residents. he will hit a bitch if he gets called that.

since he’s living near his mama, he’s trying to get on his best behavior. he’s just happy to be with her and be able to take care of her.

always shaking like a fucking chihuahua because of his addiction.

he hates his siblings. if he had the strength, he’d roundhouse kick the shit out of his brother

luckily for him, he doesn’t have to deal with them since they moved away from mapleview a while ago. they also barely talk and he doesn’t even know if he has nephews or not. Sad

sometimes he forgets he’s the boss ( oi leo from that 70s show! ) and forgets to pay his employees

if he says he’ll be “taking care of stuff” in his office, you bet he’ll be napping there pls come back from 2 to 4 hours thanks

he can speak three languages: english, hindi and gujarati

#mapleviewintro #drugs tw #addiction tw #miscarriage tw #death tw #this is a mess? yes #but so is jasper so <3

[petrichorblue94]

Stydia ‘tether’ moments

There’s more than the MRA/car scene. For example when in s6A Lydia kept seeing the people Stiles was speaking to - the nurse, the old woman, I think there were more. And when they sit back to back but in different dimensions. And when she opens the rift and he can hear her voice through space, Jane Eyre-style. 

And when the nogitsune was telling her how she knew Stiles was dying. And when she went to Eichen house when he was missing and that’s where he was in his mind and then when he actually went to Eichen house and saw that this is where he was.

The red string of fate scene!!!!

And the focus on my voice/first kiss scene, and the drowning scene, obviously. And when Stiles was the only one who could awake her from the coma in s5. And the ‘you’re something’ scenes, which is a classic but yeah. I just want stydia parallels. 

And all the remember scenes. First with ‘looks like you’re gonna ignore me’, ‘you probably don’t remember me’, Allison’s ‘remember’, Scott’s ‘he remembered’. The car/remember scene, the ‘I can’t remember’ scene. Holy shit, it feels like the writers were planning to have Stiles get erased just so Lydia could remember him since s1e1. 

The ‘if you die, I’ll literally go out of my freaking mind’ scene paralleled with the Sheriff telling Lydia she’s crazy and Lydia being as faithful as Ulysses’ wife Penelope and being all ‘Stiles is real, I know it’. Maybe also parallel it with Lydia being driven crazy by Peter and asking ‘Is this real?’ It just shows how much she’s progressed. 

Stiles’ “I love you” with Lydia’s “I loved him”.

Stiles going into Eichen house where he was almost tortured to save Lydia and Lydia going back to the night she was bitten by Peter in order to save Stiles from the nogitsune. 

All the times the directors showed how one reacted to the other’s possible death. Lydia saving Stiles from the fire, Stiles freezing when he sees Lydia on the ground in the station, Lydia saying ‘But you’re not [gonna make it]’, and all the times Stiles held Lydia’s hand when she was unconscious/dying. Lydia crying into an unconsnscious Stiles when Allison died. Lydia drawing a deep breath when she and Aiden saw that Stiles was alive, and Stiles tearing up from relief when Lydia drew breath in s5. 

Lydia being drawn to Stiles’ jeep because that’s where she lost him. Being drawn to his locker. She knew his real name (or at least the way he pronounced it when he was a kid). 

Can anyone think of any other, ‘tether’/parallel moments? 

#stydia #this is some next level jane/rochester shit here

[nextgenfairytale]

Arnold & Helga’s quarantine letters by Craig Bartlett

"Dear Helga, Day 33 of the quarantine. Going a little crazy. Thank goodness for Abner, who isn’t bothered, just seems glad that I’m around all day! Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Imagine my surprise when Harvey delivered your letter this morning. In case you haven’t noticed, Einstein, there’s been a little invention called the smart phone, and I’m available by text. But I enjoyed writing this reply in an old-fashioned letter, because as you know I like to write, and it gives me the chance to go outside to mail it, and snoop around the neighborhood a little. So thanks for cheering me up, Hair Boy. From Helga. No, scratch that... Love Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 39, and I’m feeling it. It’s kind of an out-of-body experience. Grandma keeps telling me to Look Up, and Grandpa randomly comes upstairs to tell late-night ghost stories. Thanks for writing back, I never thought I’d miss hearing you call me Football Head, but these are strange days. I miss you. Love, Arnold. #stayhome" "Dear Football Head, I was minding my own business on some random sidewalk when Harvey stopped and pulled another letter from you out of his bag, like he’s Santa Claus now. And not like it’s any of your business, but I’m fine, stuck here with the Patakis for the duration. Olga’s acting career is on lockdown so she has to perform for us, going from Little Miss Sunshine to Mozart’s Requiem in 30 seconds flat. I’m mostly in my room, running out of stuff to read, so I was actually pretty glad to hear from you, Arnoldo. I could use some of your blind optimism. Write me some more, okay? Love, Helga.” "Dear Helga, Day 49 since we could just go to Slausen’s and get an ice cream. I’m spending even more time in my room — Grandpa started a game of Risk downstairs and it’s gone on for days. Things are getting surreal up here. The colors keep changing. I find myself asking questions like, where did Grandma find this carpet? I finally fall asleep and dream of flying, and then Nocturnal Ned wakes me at 7:00 and I count how many days it’s been. Thanks for the song dedications, by the way, they’re always spot on. But do they always have to be “from Helga who hates you”? And thanks for writing back, I really enjoy your letters. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Harvey came to the door waving another letter from you like I’d been waiting for it or something. The nerve of that guy. I told him I’d been out, staring at clouds and trying to see shapes in them like you do, and normally I could make fun of you and call you dorkwad or yutz or paste-for-brains, but you weren’t there. So I returned to Casa Pataki, where nothing changes: Bob’s on his phone straight through dinner, Miriam stares a hole in her blender like to smoothie or not to smoothie? And if Olga reminds me to wash my dirty little hands one me time I’ll wring her scrawny neck. Back to the magnificent solace of my room where I can write you back, as you requested. So don’t say I never did anything for you, Hair Boy. And please write back. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 58 of this thing. How could the days go by so fast and then just stand there? I’m in my room trying to make the walls go away. When I fall asleep, all I do is dream. I know it’s boring to read about other people’s dreams, but I had a dream about you. You were trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. You were smiling, though, so it was something good. I went out walking today, and Harvey asked me if I had any mail for him. I said, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I think he’s on to us, Helga. But please write back. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, you’re right about Harvey. He came sauntering up, made a big show of going through his bag looking for your letter, humming some stinkin’ love song. I told him I don’t have all day, what does he think, I just pace around in front of the house waiting to hear about a certain Hair-Boy’s dumb dreams? And speaking of which, I’ve been having some doozies. Last night you came out of this spooky fog and I was trying to tell you something important, and you turned into Arnie. Then I realized that I was a monkey. Well, a monkey-girl. Anyway it’s nice to get these letters. I don’t mind reading about your dreams as long as they’re about me. Keep it up, Arnoldo. Dream about the day we can go out for ice cream. I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say over a banana split. Which you are paying for, Bucko. Just kidding, we can split it. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 70 of this craziness. I tried sleeping on my couch to see if I would maybe dream less, but nope. Here’s one: we were up in Mighty Pete, and you said follow me down, Arnoldo, and then you were gone, and then the whole tree was gone. I was a little gloomy at breakfast, probably because it was chickpea pancakes (Dad’s still grinding his own flour substitutes). Grandma and Grandpa tried to cheer me up, but you know what? All I wanted was another letter from you. I went down to wait for Harvey, and he comes dancing up, and even with his mask on he was singing, “You’ll never find... someone who cares about you! Like sheeee does” and I’m like “C’mon Harvey, just give me the letter please.” Anyway thanks for writing back. These letters are giving me life. And yes, I will love to meet you at Slausen’s for a banana split, and I don’t care who pays. That will be a great day. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Ha! Think you’re dreaming a lot? Even if I tell you just my dreams that you starred in I’ll be writing letters for years, or at least till this quarantine is over. Okay, last night I fell asleep reading Ulysses, which always puts me right out, and then I was wandering in that Dali painting with all the melted clocks. And I’m yelling, okay I know time seems to be stretching these days but this is ridiculous! And then you float up in adorable cherub mode. I call out, “Hey! Arnoldo! When will the quarantine end?” And you say, “I know you want to come up, Helga, but we have to wait until Mayor Dixie says it’s okay.” And then I run and run up a bunch of stairs and into my room and slam the door, and then I notice it’s YOUR room! Heh-heh, not like I know what the inside of your room looks like, Hair Boy. Anyway thanks for writing. Harvey brought your latest and I practically tackled him to get it. I think he’s enjoying being the lockdown mailman a little too much. More dreams, please! Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 82 and now we have a curfew on top of a quarantine, which is like stay home squared. I’m dreaming of the day we get our city back. Speaking of which, last night I dreamed you were a 100-foot tall giant running across our neighborhood, and I was trying to catch you, and realized I was a giant too, and was immediately terrified I was gonna step on someone. I hear a crunching sound and then a tiny car alarm and I yell, “Helga! Slow down, we’re gonna knock down the neighborhood!” And you turn around and grab the top off a building and say “Don’t worry Arnoldo, it’s cake!” And I can see it’s chocolate, with candles on it. And I’m, “But your birthday was the end of March!” And you’re all pleased, “Arnold! You remembered!” And then you explain how time is all stretchy these days so March, June, who cares? “I say it’s my birthday, Football Head.” And then you throw the cake at me and now it’s a food fight, and I wake up to the smell of Dad burning a cake made out of what turns out to be Amaranth flour, whatever that is. So happy birthday, Helga! I miss you. A lot. Write back, please. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, I was out at my little spot where I like to, y’know, think, and Harvey came sauntering up like he knew I’d be there. “No letter today, Helga, but you won’t believe whose door I saw open. Slausen’s!” And my eyes bug and I say, “Hey! You’re supposed to DELIVER my mail, not read it!” And he starts dancing really annoyingly, “It’s gonna open, Mayor Dixie’s gonna call it! Soon!” And off he goes, singing “Someone who cares about you! Like heeee does!” I, uh, assume he’s referring to you, Arnoldo? Heh-heh. So I mosey home and wake Big Bob up and make him drive me over there. And Harvey wasn’t kidding, the lights are on and the sign on the door says opening soon, just waiting for Dixie to announce the next phase of opening the city! “Soon,” Hair Boy! Soon!! Are we still on for splitting that banana split? I await your reply very calmly. Love, Helga."

"Dear Helga, I just saw Mayor Dixie make the announcement on TV. Phase one of opening the city starts on Saturday! Restaurants can open! That means Slausen’s! I yelped them, they’re gonna open Saturday at noon! I’ll make this letter short — I ran up to the roof and I could see Harvey coming down the block! He waved, though, something tells me he’ll wait. Now I’m tearing up my room looking for a stamp. Okay! See you Saturday? Noon? Slausen’s! Banana split! Love, Arnold."

"Dear Arnold, The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, They’re only made of clay. But come Hell or high tide, Headless Cabbie or Ghost Bride, I will meet you on Saturday. Love, Helga."

#hey arnold #shortaki #helga x arnold #arnold x helga #helga pataki #arnold shortman #arnold and helga

[courier-sux]

“Who are you, that do not know your history?”

ya boy found some copic markers and had to balance out happy honest hearts jackal by drawing sad lonesome road jackal. i love this dlc but boy howdy does it mess her up big time

snippet from the fic that i may or may not ever finish under the cut if you’re interested in the very bad time she has

Trudging back to the Lucky 38, Jackal was filled with hollow apathy. She was so tired, like everything she had done since she’d crawled out of that grave was finally catching up to her. When she dug down deeper to feel anything other than exhaustion, all that was left was a cold, burning fury. There were so many things to be angry at.

Ulysses, for his blind arrogance. He said so many things that Jackal wanted to punch him in the teeth for. His sheer self-righteousness. Like he knew everything about her. Like it was her fault that she brought a package home, even if there had been no way for her to know what it really was.

“You gave life to this place. I followed your road here, saw the Divide. You led me here, so that I could see. My history isn’t revenge, or hate,” Ulysses’ voice crackled over ED-E’s speaker.

She narrowed her eyes.

“The road that brought us both here — isn’t about that. It’s about the message you carried. The one in that package, whether you knew it or not. The message that one can kill a nation. Can kill a symbol. And all that gather beneath its flag. I don’t blame you for the Divide. I blame you for what you made me see. Now you will see what you brought to the Mojave, and that will be my message to you.”

Jackal’s hands curled into fists, fury creeping into her voice. “This isn’t about revenge? Are you fucking kidding me?” she growled. “You’re forcing me to look at the atrocity I committed. Fine. But at least own up to what you’re really doing.” She jabbed a finger up at ED-E, even though she knew Ulysses couldn’t see her. “I didn’t force you to do anything. You chose to follow me, to stay and watch. And then it all came crumbling down, so now you’re bitter over the loss of something that was never yours in the first place.”

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she remembered what was gone, but she refused to let up. “Dozens of people died here. Maybe a hundred. I’d understand if you wanted me to pay for that, but you don’t give a shit about any of them. You can hide behind your flag and your precious fucking history all you want, but I know a goddamn thing or two about revenge. So don’t you dare try to tell me that this isn’t personal.”

She’d wanted to kill him. So, so badly. That anger threatened to swallow her up, to kill her fellow courier, to launch the missiles against the Legion and make everyone pay for what they’d done to her. If ED-E hadn’t been there, gently nudging her before she could press the button, she might’ve gone through with it.

Jackal had learned the hard way that revenge didn’t fix anything. It felt good in the moment, to see their blood on your hands, to watch the life leave their eyes, to strip them of everything they had. But it quickly faded into emptiness as you realized that not enough blood in the world would bring back what was taken from you. Nothing would.

She was angry at herself, too. As messed up as she was, as cold and bloodthirsty and feral as she knew she could be, there was regret in her heart. There was no way to know what she was bringing to the Divide. It was an accident. But that didn’t clean the innocent blood off her hands: her lover, her twin.

“You carry death wherever you go — if the Mojave doesn’t know it yet, it will. Even your name. Jackal. Dog of the underworld. A piece of this graveyard you carry with you, one more message.”

There was no denying the truth in that. When Jackal convinced Boone to come with her, he told her that this wasn’t going to end well. He’d been right. But not for the reasons he thought. It was her that death followed, her that had bad things coming, not him. Maybe that was why he followed her at first — maybe he thought that she’d get him killed too, like everyone else, and earn him the death he wanted so badly.

Thinking about Boone made everything hurt more. She’d give anything to go back and fall into his arms, to have him tell her it was all right, that he would keep her safe. But that wasn’t how this story went. Life wasn’t like the old Western holotapes she’d watched with her father. There were no gunslinging heroes, no problems that would easily be solved by shooting an outlaw dead. No beautiful lover to come home to. No riding off into the sunset.

Lonesome road. It was aptly named.

#once in a blue moon i draw fullbodys... #she wears the riot gear helmet too but i can NOT draw that #oc: jackal #lonesome road #my art #ive written a lot of stuff for post-lonesome road jackal #who knows if ill ever be able to publish it lmao

[prometheanglory]

yay ! tidbits ! this time with the 3 new additions because they deserve to be developed a little more. an incredibly long post with no read more bc tragically i am on mobile.

guts 🦈 💣

the scar on his nose is from the incident that got him disowned. he doesn’t like to talk about it.

the tattoos on his back weren’t magically slapped onto his skin — it was his punishment from azul, afterall. it’s a symbol of his loyalty to azul. the gill tattoos follow a similar purpose, though it seems like that loyalty was forcefully broken.

the multitude and sheer size of these tattoos make it a little hard to go into polite society, where tattoos are generally scorned. ...perhaps this is also a part of his punishment.

despite his brutish appearance and aggressive fighting style — he’s relatively nonchalant person, and doesn’t particularly seek to cause unnecessary trouble because it’s a hassle to deal with.

he has a considerably strong bite and considerably sharp teeth — he once bit right through leather.

ulysses and azul are the only people who know his real name — however ulysses once slipped up and accidentally called him by his real name. that mistake has not been repeated ever since.

he was the favorite kid, up until he went and messed up and got kicked out.

guts has a monstrous appetite and an iron stomach — he’ll basically eat anything, really. he likes meat and the likes, but it seems he has a fondness for taiyaki?

his wish was a simple one. he wants to make sure he doesn’t go hungry — azul wasn’t exactly sure what to make of such a simpleton’s wish, but decided to make the most of it. the price was guts’ freedom. the nickname was free of charge.

guts is surprisingly people-smart? he may hate thinking, but he’s good at reading people and the atmosphere. he’s got all the street-smarts, but none of the academic smarts.

he’s a good worker for the Lounge, despite his scary face. He listens to people’s problems and they come back a lot — this is actually pretty great for business.

his eyebrows seem to constantly be furrowed, but he’s not actually mad. that’s just his face.

as we can all see, he’s a pretty big guy. that made fitting him for uniforms a bit of a struggle; by that, i mean that floyd almost lost an eye when a button flew off guts’ shirt. a note was made that day — buy guts a bigger shirt.

in the same breath of ‘not fitting’, he’s gotten stuck in various places because he really is just that large. whether it be stuck in cafe’s booth or not fitting in the narrow corners of the library — he’s become a bit claustrophobic.

he’s startlingly strong and has been known for accidentally destroy property.

the door to the octavinelle dormitories got jammed and no one could make it budge — guts accidentally tore the door open when seeing if he could get it to unlock..... uh, problem solved?

sarge 💎🤍

despite his yandere tendencies, he doesn’t actually believe in true love. or at least, not for himself.

this is a rather pessimistic thought from him — but to explain, he believes that he was not meant to be with anybody. he's plenty happy to be with somebody until they meet their ‘one’, but he doesn’t think that he has a ‘true love’ destined to be with him. he loves and he adores plenty, but sometimes fate isn’t so kind as to let you have someone by your side. but that’s alright, he’s fine as long as he was by someone else’s side.

he’s quite easygoing, much to people’s dismay at times. he seems to always have an relaxed smile on his face, no matter the circumstance. it keeps the mood light — at the very least, it’s a very nice smile to look at?

if he just doesn’t talk, people may mistaken him for a woman. this has happened more than once. they’re usually in for a shock once he actually speaks though.

you know how disney princesses attract animals and the likes? yeah. he does that. however those who hang around him know that he is by no means angelic nor cherubic as disney princesses.

he is incredibly photogenic, almost scarily so. he’s always camera-ready.

he smells kinda like flowers? it’s not perfume of cologne or anything— he just smells really nice.

his room is filled with shiny things and things he finds pretty! flowers, beads, bottles! it’s all arranged very neatly and his room is actually quite clean, despite all the random ornaments.

his hands are always cold.

he doesn’t think they feel that cold, but people who he’s accidentally brushed against have noted that he is actually quite frigid. he’s a relief to be around during the summer at least!

he takes hardly anything seriously, and so this makes him quite the issue for teachers. they can’t really complain though, because even if he doesn’t care, he’s actually a pretty high-scoring student.

he’s not top-tier in broom flying, but he is rather proficient in potion classes. particularly in poisons. he seems to do... scarily well with those, actually.

that easy smile you usually see on his face doesn’t make you feel any safer, especially as he’s giggling to himself because he just accidentally turned the healing potion into poison. ‘ara...? fufu, that’s not quite right now is it? hehe, my apologies, i’ll redo it.’

flirts with a lot of people as we all may know — so just know that when the lovey-dovey months come along, the pomefiore inbox will be flooded. he’s not at all sorry. he’ll share the chocolate though, how generous! however, vil isn’t very pleased by his behavior.

vil: beauty is meant to be distant. you don’t come to people, they come to you. that’s the allure of pomefior—

sarge, winking at vil:

vil: why did you do that.

sarge: hm? i’m afraid i don’t know what you mean.

vil: what did i just say, you insolent tool — stop flirting with people out of nowhere.

sarge, winking at vil again:

ulysses 🦈🧨

he’s the runt of the Finn family — he’s quite angry about this.

he entered NRC with the intent of finding Guts somewhere out there in the world, his contract with Azul was actually about this. He wished to find his brother so that he may get his revenge — to which, Azul did grant to some degree. However, his revenge did not turn out in the manner that he desired. Rather, he cannot kill Guts nor harm him, Ulysses will serve as the constant reminder to Guts of his failures.

he absolutely hates being cold. he’ll get much more snappy and aggressive if the temperatures get too low.

usually you can’t have both bark and bite — but unfortunately it seems that ulysses has both. granted he’s not as reliant on brute strength as some of the other guys, but he is entirely capable of messing someone up considerably. a fight with him is a brutal and dirty one.

surprisingly, not a lot of people in octavinelle are aware of him and guts’ relationship.

azul was the first to know, then followed by the twins — and the twins only found out because floyd off-handedly pointed out that guts and ulysses had similar speaking styles, had similar features to some degree, and the giveaway? the tattoos.

floyd has his moments of brilliance and incredible observation, jade must agree. the two brought it up with ulysses and he was absolutely furious. bad move ulysses, you gave yourself away immediately. the two like to hold it over his head now to get him to do things, lest they reveal to more people that he and guts are related.

as you can see — he lacks a bit of street smarts. he’s the spoiled child of the Finn family, and instead of spoiled rotten, he was spoiled absolutely bitter.

he can play the piano? he’s not necessarily bad, but it’s certainly unexpected.

he’s a little jealous of guts’ tattoos. not the punishment part of it, but the entire ‘bear the mark of octavinelle as a sign of your loyalty’. he thinks it’s cool, but not because it’s on guts. he wants them too. he wouldn’t tell anybody that, but i’m sure azul’s aware of it.

he’s been said to actually have quite the cute face, if he would just stop scowling so much. he gets angrier when people call him cute.

his hair is surprisingly soft — you’d expect it to be crunchy, considering he’s a teenage boy, but no! it’s very soft.

he’s pretty quick on his feet, he’s a surprisingly good dancer? he catches on pretty fast too. but sadly he doesn’t dance much... egg him on, he’ll do it then, if his pride is at stake.

despite his fleet-feet, he’s can be quite clumsy at times. accidentally throwing his pens, hitting himself with doors, or tripping on nothing — it’s a marvel, really.

he is notoriously bad with the ladies. he’s not allowed to be on scouting duty because his charisma stat is that low — he’s too rude, he’s too brash, he’s too blunt. granted, that could be charming to some... but unfortunately that has not worked out so far.

shares guts’ love for meats and hidden sweet tooth— though unlike guts, he gets rather huffy and embarrassed if he’s found out.

monstrous appetite. he’s a little picky, but whatever’s on his plate will be gone in 30 seconds flat. is this feeding frenzy? no, its just ulysses. guard your plate.

azul and the twins use ulysses’ hair-trigger temper and his deep-rooted hatred for guts to get him to do things when he’s being bratty and fussy — it shuts him right up and he’s already getting up to go.

looks up to azul — his loyalty to azul is kinda similar to monkey see, monkey do.

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #twisute #twst #twisute oc #twst oc #v speaks #sarge glase #guts #ulysses finn #long post

[convivialcamera]

Let’s talk smack about Outlander S5E1!

I’ve got cake and a Bulleit bourbon on the rocks and a lot of things to say, so I’m just gonna let it rip.

1. Baby Jamie’s hair is the wrong color and it’s gonna drive me nuts. But, Murtagh is breaking my heart.

2. I really disliked the new theme song on first listen and honestly, it grew on me this time around.

3. I know we’re supposed to have totally forgiven Roger for whatever the fuck happened in season four, but I do love that Jamie is totally ripping into him ... pretty much constantly. 

4. “The Big House” is patently absurd. Beautiful, but totally and utterly absurd. Can’t wait for it to burn the fuck down!

5. Claire’s in “nothing but a loving wife and mother” mode here, and it’s totally boring me to tears. I miss her.

6. WHY do we run through “Something new, something old, etc.” twice? Who wrote this?

7. So the tea is that I haven’t watched season four since it first aired, but I’m pretty sure Bree was still pretty pissed at Jamie when the season ended. So, why is she all “I don’t have to imagine you” and “I’ll always be your wee girl?” It’s sweet, but also out of nowhere. MOVING ON.

7a. WHAT DID THEY DO TO ELLEN’S PEARLS?

8. What the shit is up with the whole “THE FRASERS OF THE RIDGE ARE HERE” and applause and shit? Bree’s barely a Fraser and she’s about to become a MacKenzie and I don’t understand the form of this wedding procession at all. Ah, yes, we are shoehorning in lines from the book. How original. And Claire’s little pep talk to Roger is SO FUCKING TRITE. “The two of you together can conquer the world,” my butt. WHO IS WRITING THIS I HAVE NOTES.

9. HOW DARE THEY FLASHBACK TO “THE WEDDING.” HOW THE FUCK DARE THEY. The whole fandom’s got every frame of that episode burned into the back of their corneas and they have the audacity to invoke the ghost of a way better show in this... mess? OK I want Bree and Roger to work as a couple on this show but it would really be in season five’s best interest to keep season one off its proverbial lips.

EDITED TO ADD 9a. Jamie complains about Bree and Roger’s ceremony being in English and not Latin, and then the show immediately flashes back to Claire and Jamie’s wedding... IN ENGLISH. UNFORCED ERROR. Just, skip the flashbacks. It’s better this way.

10. Gov. Tryion is interesting. As bored as I was with the cliffhanger last season (because yeah, Jamie is gonna hunt down his beloved godfather, sure), this is good.

11. JAMIE IS TELLING EVERYONE ROGER IS A HERETIC. The pettiness! The shade! I live! {I swear they need to give Claire something to do because if I’m stanning JAMMF we have a problem.}

12. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

13. Roger’s comment about doing the whole wedding again “when we go back” is ACTUALLY INTERESTING. He thinks he’s going back sometime soonish? Oooo, good conflict, show!

14. I’m still trying to figure out the rules to the drinking game led by John Quincy Meyers. You say a rhyme without messing it up, and you can forefit or fail and then forfeit, and then you pass it to someone else in the circle? But if you get it right you have to come up with a new one? It sounds like fun and I wanna hang with Fergus and Marsali because they are so clearly the cool kids. LOVE THEM.

15. “Some Shakespeare?” Poor LGJ. Too proper for his own good at all times. 

16. OK. The flashback to Bonnet raping Bree is SO VERY UNNECESSARY. It was already in the “Previously on Outlander” bit. This show is way too fucking casual with violence against women. It’s gross. That ep is a whole half of why I’ll probably never watch season four again, and then they just throw it in again. Bree’s reaction is ENOUGH. The rape was unnecessary in season four, it was way too graphic in season four, and it’s very much unneeded here. 

17. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

18. I know The Beatles are probably way out of this show’s budget (they spent it all on that damn house), and as cute as Roger’s singing is... OH GOD THE SEX MONTAGE.

19. I would like to propose a new rule. If show is going to continue to do graphic sex scenes, which they had fucking better, ONLY ONE GENERATION AN EPISODE. For example, if Claire and Jamie are banging, Bree and Roger  can’t. If Murtagh is getting it on, Claire and Jamie have to wait. Bree and Roger and Fergus and Marsali can do it in the same episode, that’s cool, they’re the same generation. But the three generations of graphic banging in one montage is WEIRD. MOVING ON.

20. I was so excited in season three when the show totally supplanted Duncan Innes with a pair of fake Rupert and Anguses, because Duncan Innes is not a character that works for me in the books. So I’m pretty deeply disappointed that he’s back in season five. I am very worried we’re setting up Duncan being cuckolded by Jocasta and Ulysses, you know, the man she owns as a slave, but they could also be setting the stage for Duncan being cuckolded by Jocasta and Murtagh -- and I want so much better for Murtagh!

21. LIZZIE WEYMMS AND JOSIAH BEARDSLEY! WE’RE GONNA GET LIZZIE AND HER TWO HUSBANDS! It’s one of my more fave plot lines in book six, which is truly faint praise considering how much I dislike “A Breath of Snow and Ashes,” and it cracks me up every time. She, just, outfoxes everyone so slyly! It’s good and cray cray shit. 

22. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

23. Doctor Claire! Love her. But it’d be nice if the show was back on her bullshit, not everyone else’s.

24. If this season ends with Murgagh’s head on a spike in New Berne, I’m gonna be pissed. 

25. Here’s the thing about the blood oath. Roger does it in the book kind of for Jamie’s benefit, to prove himself publicly in a language Jamie understands. Bree isn’t into this shit. Why is he doing it for her? 

26. Claire’s assertion that “The men of the Ridge would do anything for” Jamie assumes so many facts not in evidence. Why are they making her so dumb? It’s FRUSTRATING. 

27. MY CAKE FELL.

28. OK, the kilt thing is good. Doesn’t make up for my cake falling. My fave part was the multiple shots of Jamie’s knees, like show knows about all the knee smut or something. 

29. Well, they went full cross burning. Couldn’t stop them, I suppose. I am entirely horrified anyone thought this was at all appropriate or not entirely inflammatory (no pun intended); intellectually I was surprised how much the celtic cross mitigated the visceral horror of cross-burning imagery for me, personally. It’s still not good and they should not have done it because WTF. There’s really no getting around how fucking racist this is. Please fuck off with this shit.

30. “Stand by my hand Fergus, son of my name and of my heart” was the sweetest. FERGUS! 

31. WHY DO THEY HAVE A SECOND CROSS ALREADY MADE? WHY ARE CLAIRE AND JAMIE RANDOMLY STANDING BY IT? WHY IS IT ON A CLIFF? IS INSTAGRAM A THING YET? THEY REALLY DID THIS FOR THE AESTHETIC.

32. NOOOOOOOOO. Jamie releasing Murtagh from his oath. MY HEART. Again: If this season ends with Murtagh’s head on a spike I’m going to be very pissed. 

33. Murdina and Arch Bug were in the credits so that will be exciting at some point, one assumes!

34. But my god, GIVE ME CLAIRE OR GIVE ME DEATH.

#outlander season five #Outlander spoilers #outlander s05e01 #outlander