#i know restoration therapy is new but holy fuck

[endearingsalt]

The field of psychology knows nothing. We are so fucking behind. It is fucking incredible how much there is a black void where research into autistic adult clients in a talk therapy setting should be.

If you want to get really mad, try looking up specifically autistic adults in marriage counseling. Fuck-all. There were 18 results total, of which about half had to do with couples who have an autistic child, and the other half weren't even about therapy. Like, I'm going to keep looking for a little bit, but this is fucking bleak. I focus my academic papers on autism whenever I can, and it's always hard to get everything I need, but I've always done it. This paper? I don't think there are enough academic, peer-reviewed papers in existence on this planet to meet my source requirements for a 10 page masters paper. Absurd. Shameful. I'm having to go at my topic from the side and add subtopics about how related therapies approach autism because there literally aren't enough otherwise.

This post was going to be a zingy one-liner but then I just kept getting more angry.

If anyone tries to take this rant and claim that I said therapy is useless, kindly fuck off. There are good clinicians out there; I intend to become one of them. I'm training with several others who will be too. I know this field can be better than the state of this research. We have to do better as a collective. The fight for equality is the same here as it is in everything else—urgent, vital, and slow.

#marie talks #this is for the restoration therapy paper @ my irls on here #i did end up making the autism section a lot shorter than i wanted to #i don't have the spoons this week to fight the system this much so i went more broad #gonna add more personal reflection and also some multiculturalism #not that there are many sources on multiculturalism either #i know restoration therapy is new but holy fuck #anyway this kind of shit makes me want to switch out of a clinical track and do research instead #like fuck all yall i'll fix it myself #unfortunately i know i can do more good across the board if i am simply a good clinician than if i manage #to fund a handful of papers no one will care about or read #that said i AM going to write a thesis on how tove jansson was incredibly autistic and all her characters are too someday #but that won't be for a while.

[imuybemovoko]

I die inside while dissecting Jesus music, part 4

I don't understand how they can justify still making more of this stuff. It's not like they say anything new...

Anyway, here's another round of psychic damage I could avoid by doing literally anything else, including healthy things like sleeping or finding a better job and a fucking therapist, but here I am anyway :^)

Since I mostly just Deadpool my way through these, I might come across as very fuckin sarcastic in a way I don't really intend (at least not this time. I might've in the past, I forget because it's been at least months since I did this to myself.) So I'd like to clarify this time that I don't mean this as a dig against Christianity as a whole, nor do I presume to analyze the way every Christian approaches this song (unless I do a Bethel one, then I'm going to feel pretty free to assume only the unhinged ones engage with it since that's my experience). Bethel aside, I'm looking into the way the people I used to run with interpreted these songs and how fucked those interpretations get. They do worse shit with the doctrines in general than many do, and music is not only a useful way to analyze it, but in evangelical and fundie circles literally functions as a way to speedrun the practice of inducing a panic attack in everyone present and marketing that as the presence of God. In the past I've kinda just been venting with these, but I can probably shoehorn it into some kind of useful analysis of a specific fucked up subculture if I'm not lazy about it.

Today, no guarantees on consistency in that. I should be asleep instead of writing this at the moment.

Anyway.

CW: extensive discussion of toxic religion, also I manage to bring up conversion therapy somehow.

Today's victim source of absurd suffering that I could've avoided: None But Jesus, by Hillsong United featuring Brooke Ligertwood.

That's right motherfuckers, we're getting into Hillsong.

I chose that one because I liked it when I was still cringe enough to unironically enjoy this kind of music. I don't think that's exactly what they mean by "kill your darlings", but fuck you, language changes, I can death of the author a phrase thank you very much >:(

alright. Strap in.

The particular version I linked above is an acoustic version of a song that maybe they do in other ways? I'm not aware of them if they exist, at least not anymore. Not being able to remember shit like this off the top of my head is kind of nice. I'll be getting lyrics from Genius like I typically do.

The format is a pretty standard verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus kind of situation, with a prechorus that's different each time it shows up. Hard to go wrong with that format.

Nah, they find other ways.

First verse:

In the quiet, in the stillness I know that You are God In the secret of Your Presence I know there I am restored

I think the stillness here is a reference to an incident from 1 Kings 19 where the prophet Elijah fucks off into the mountains, where God hits his favorite mountain with a downright apocalyptic wind followed by an earthquake, and then a fire?!, and Elijah finds God's presence in none of that but rather in the calm afterwards.

And then for a reason I forget, God says "bro what the fuck are you doing on this mountain?" I remember Elijah being a bit of what God would call a dramatic lil shit and I would probably call "fuckin relatable, I mean holy shit the guy goes through a new life-altering trauma a week in his role as prophet, no shit he wants to disappear into the hills and never come back sometimes, I feel that way and I haven't seen a few dozen murders, several wars, visions of an apocalypse that I'm supposed to share, and to crown it all, some eldritch horror with nineteen wings and a crust of eyes all over its body". It's not super relevant to the song. The reference to 1 Kings that I pick out of this might be a bit less than conscious anyway, the idea of God's presence as a voice in stillness is pervasive. Maybe the singer is just referring to just like reminding herself of her faith during quiet times, an incredibly common practice across probably all branches of Christianity including the sane ones, and also common in quite a few non-Christian faiths. I didn't need either of these paragraphs, but I have them anyway because fuck it.

Anyway I don't know why she would call the Christian God's presence a secret in the second half of this verse, they don't treat their ideas around God's presence being healing/cleansing/etc. as any kind of secret. Maybe there's context I'm forgetting or maybe it's a neat way of referring to it for the song because it does carry over some of that quiet place vibe. In either case, she's saying that this presence is restorative.

Nothing super fucky just from this verse, which is actually unlike the deathculty vibe from Even So Come, the pretty surface-level gaslighting of Gracefully Broken, or the "Jesus is my boyfriend and dying for him would make me cum" vibe of Even Unto Death. This one is honestly just "God has been a positive influence in my life", the song. Where this gets fucked up in the churches that weaponize this stuff is where just how intense they are about original sin and making people feel like absolute piles of shit for existing comes into play. I spent a couple of years in a Pentecostal campus ministry cult (AoG affiliated, if you know what that is I'm terribly sorry) and a couple of years involved with Calvary Chapel and in both cases, "restored" here is going to carry connotations of having any shot at being a moral person, being "right with god", being plucked out of eternal suffering despite having no fucking right to that, etc. We didn't tend to do a lot of interpretive work on songs, but this is the role it would play.

First prechorus:

When You call I won't refuse Each new day, again I'll choose

Sane Christians are probably going with something a bit resembling reciprocity here. Like a "God is a stabilizing influence on my life and sometimes I do things for him because I'm thankful" kind of situation. The source material they're drawing from frames this as an obligation, so they do that incredibly often as well, and I'm actually not aware of Christians who don't, but I'm sure there's a lot of healthier approaches than what I was learning from 2015 to 2019. Because in fuckin Chi Alpha or Calvary Chapel, this becomes "Trying to have my own agency is Satanic and I have to fight it every day, I'm a lifeless hole empty vessel for you God".

Yes, that's a reference. Dorian Electra is cool.

The chorus is a touch weirder just on the surface of it:

There is no one else for me None but Jesus Crucified to set me free Now I live to bring Him praise

It's giving "Jesus is my boyfriend" meets, in the last line, "Agency? Who's she?". I assume sane people think, "yeah, there's only one son of god, I only worship one god and he did do the whole sacrificing himself for my sins thing, I really like him" or something. In my series of cults, they take this something more along the lines of "hello yes i am either addicted to Jesus and my sole purpose is singing neat little songs to him and yelling about him in places where no one wants that and abusing children so they do the same thing, or i am not only deeply evil but not trying to do the impossible task of becoming not evil". These people literally want to fucking delete their own agency and be empty vessels for God. One guy spent like 20 minutes telling me about how he wants to rely on God rather than the mechanisms of his own fucking body to breathe and held that up as an example of what we should be. These lyrics are a little "agency? who's she?", but holy FUCK does what's inherent to them pale in comparison to how they had me trying to live. These people also lean incredibly hard into sin as a thing that makes a person thoroughly fucking evil. The last time I ever spoke to the pastor at the Calvary Chapel I subjected myself to, he pointed to his grandchild, a literal baby, touching a stove when he said not to as a sign that this kid is evil to their core and not as a sign that they didn't know what "don't touch that, you'll burn yourself, it's hot" means at this early point in their life. Every fucking thing you do is, to these people, a sign that you're infinitely bad and deserve to die and then burn forever.

Oh, and being queer in any way? Very much worse.

I need ✨therapy✨.

Verse 2 is also a touch hard to divorce from the insanity, but I can imagine it being, in the right hands, about as ambiently toxic as it's unavoidable for Christianity and its authority-based language structures to be.

In the chaos, in confusion I know You're sovereign still In the moment of my weakness You give me grace to do Your Will

First half is more of the normal actually stuff from the first verse, just like... the singer reads God as a stabilizing influence on her life. "Sovereign" here is an example of that ambient authoritarian language, which means culty people will do insane shit with it and sane Christians will just say that God is... I don't know the exact takes, but like an underlying force of the universe and has a good plan or something. And what is life except a parade of chaos and confusion punctuated with some nice chill moments? It's just how we exist, and that's neither here nor there, but it can be nice to feel like you have a stabilizing influence.

The second half is where this not only gets a bunch worse in culty settings, but becomes a little harder to avoid problems from, the latter mostly because I honestly fail to see how this doesn't end up becoming shaming. Like "God gives you everything you need to avoid fucking up, so why do you, asshole?" is a thing that I don't see being absent from this bit in any circumstance at all, it's just that sane Christians will go "eh, learning experiences amirite????!!1?" and cultists will go "we are all living proof that every single human deserves D̸̟̫̙̮̝̃̍̊̊̊̾͋̎̒É̶̛͚͓͙͎̈́̓͋̎̽͑͌̂̈́̏̕͠͠A̶̹̳͚̰͓̰̾͑̎́͌̀̄͋͜T̴̛̪͓̹̲̋͋̌̍̅̒̓H̴̟̳͈̔̈́̃̆͛̈́̏̕͝͝ for literally just existing, go forth and hate yourself until you're better".

Oh, also, conversion therapy rests on this premise. Christian bigots typically say "God says don't be gay or trans, and God can change you, so change, [REDACTED]".

That is, it rests on strained, uncharitable interpretations mixed with hate and a copious amount of outright bullshit.

Second prechorus:

So, when You call I won't delay This my song through all my days

First bit feels a bit ambiently authoritarian, just "God says frog, we jump" vibes that can't really get out of it there. Answering God's call is important to the singer and they express it in a way that's like "oh, ok yeah sure just hand the bastard a weapon why don't you". Christianity has that as a structural problem. Second line is a lifelong commitment. Nothing too weird there, I mean, people do that with other humans too, sometimes for worse reasons than someone who has a positive experience with a god might have for saying this.

Or, as AoG or Calvary types would put it, "Hesitating to obey God's commands is a sin and God might kill you for it." Because they're at best not approaching the faith in a healthy way and at worst, weaponizing the ever-loving FUCK out of it.

Time for the bridge.

Bridge is just this, twice:

All my delight is in You, Lord All of my hope, all of my strength All my delight is in You, Lord Forevermore

This is very "all your eggs in one basket" for me, but hey, I'm not a monotheist, plus the god she's referring to here didn't deliver for me. A sane person's approach to this might be something like "God is the source of these good things and also I like him a lot".

AoG and Calvary both told me:

that unbelievers are incapable of happiness (bullshit, but scary)

that people, even Christians, who don't yeet themselves as deeply as possible into God are pushed around by every idea that gets thrown their way and also probably fully want to die as soon as life gets fonky

that people who aren't the right kind of Christian who say they have any hope are either bullshitting, deceived by Satan into thinking that, or both

that people who enjoy things other than God are idolaters

and probably a lot of other similar shit that I'll uncover in therapy sessions one day

being God's literal puppet slave forever will be like cumming for all of eternity actually (of course they're far too prudish to actually use those words, it would've been funny in retrospect though)

or, in other words, they take all these ideas in the worst direction possible, of course.

I should sleep now. And probably also find a therapist.

Deste hságâneutá, sa dorá se hajse dlázo, se termíneko...

[0stentatia]

A “Riz & Adaine being lowkey besties” fanfic

The morning after they rescue Adaine & Aelwyn from Calethriel Tower, after she restores Aelwyn’s memory to before she was captured, Adaine is sitting at the back of the Van trying not to spiral. Riz joins her, and they have a little chat. 

(This is the first Fantasy High fic I’ve ever written & the first fanfic I’ve written in a hot minute so I’m sorry if it’s not the best but I needed this to exist because I love Riz & Adaine’s friendship sm.)

    The songs of the Treants danced through the air around Kei Lumennura as Adaine sat at the back of the van with the doors open wide. Her sister was curled up and unconscious inside, restored back to her unfortunate past self. There had been an abundance of pain seeing her sister weak and broken and vulnerable, but there had also been hope. Hope that maybe this would be a new start for the sisters. Aelwyn had spoken to her in a way that made Adaine finally feel like her equal, finally feeling like she wanted to care for her instead of casting Ray of Sickness at any chance she got. But the world was cruel and unforgiving, so the walk through Aelwyn’s mind had torn her heart out and then had given her no time to grieve. 

    The old Aelwyn was back, her father was possibly dead, and her mother was working for somebody who definitely wasn’t good. The anxiety was mounting, quickly. She’d taken her meds upon waking up this morning but that just took the edge off enough to keep her from being incapacitated by her panic attacks. Holding Boggie tightly to her chest, she was lost in her own thoughts as the rest of the group carried on. After some time, she was interrupted by a familiar voice. 

    “So… It’s been a uh, wild few days, huh?” She lifted her eyes from the spot on the ground they’d been focused on to see Riz standing in front of her. 

    She scoffed lightly and nodded her head, not saying anything. 

    Riz didn’t say anything else for a long moment either. He moved to lift himself up and sit beside her in the back of the van, his legs swinging slightly as they dangled over the edge. There was a heaviness in her chest. 

    She wanted to be back home, with Jawbone there to help her through any crises she may have, or at least to have her group therapy once a week to keep her grounded. She wanted to be far away from Fallinel, far away from those who had captured her and were most likely going to execute her. Adaine missed Elmville terribly, and she missed the comfort of familiarity and regularity that it brought to her just as much. 

    “I’m really glad you’re back,” Riz finally spoke again. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head to look at her. “We weren’t really sure what was happening to you, or what they were going to do with you, and that was…” He sighed, “The not knowing was scary.” 

    “I’m pretty sure they were going to execute me.” Adaine said quietly. 

    Riz’s brow shot up in surprise. “What?!” 

    “Yeah. I mean.. I was basically given a choice. Either stay and be their Elven Oracle and do everything they told me to do.. Or they were going to kill me, so the gift of the Oracle could be passed on to somebody else, somebody who would stay in Fallinel and do what they wanted.” The weight of the words leaving her lips fell on her shoulders like boulders. She felt too numb to cry. 

    “Holy shit Adaine… And your dad was fine with that?” 

    “Of course he was, Riz. He’s a foul little worthless excuse of a man. We already knew that.” She spit the words out venomously. 

    Riz said nothing in response, just pursed his lips together and nodded his head silently. 

    Boggie let out a soft ribbet as she held him in her arms. 

    “They tortured my sister there for so long… She was like a shell of a person when I found her. So broken and helpless… When she woke up here she asked me if we escaped or if we died and honestly, I’m not sure which answer she was hoping to hear from me…” She was silent for a few seconds before continuing, “Then I thought maybe we’d have a chance to really get to know each other, for the first time like… ever? Maybe we could be on the same side for once… But now that version of Aelwyn is gone and she’s back to being exactly who I always hated her for being.” Adaine let out a shaky breath and pulled her feet up, crossing her legs criss-cross beneath her. 

    “Does that make me a bad person? For wishing she could be in pain again, and wishing she could remember what she went through these past few months just because it hurts me more if she doesn’t?” She turned her head to look at Riz. 

    He laughed and she furrowed her brow at him. 

    “Sorry, I’m not— I’m not trying to laugh at you.” He shook his head and turned to meet her eyes, “It’s just funny to me that you think you could ever be a bad person.” He offered a small smile.

    She held his gaze for a moment, searching his face and finding nothing but genuine care and honesty. They’d talked about her family before. She’d told him bits and pieces about her parents, about how they were growing up, about her sister. There had been times when she’d even confided in him how she wished she and Aelwyn could’ve been close. He’d heard her say that it didn’t matter how much she hated and resented her sister, there would always be a part of her that wished things had gone differently. There would always be a part of her that longed to be close with her sister, and a part of her that loved her. 

    Riz knew what she struggled with. He knew how hard she tried to be the opposite of what her parents were, of what they’d turned her sister into. And he’d always been quick to reassure her that she was far from resembling anything close to them. 

    Adaine sighed softly before she looked out over the elven sanctuary, taking it all in. 

    “Are you okay?” He asked after a few more moments of quiet between them. 

    She scoffed again. “My shitty dad might be dead. I didn’t even get to have one nice day with my sister after saving her from being tortured for months on end. My mom is working for the Nightmare King or Kalina or whoever it is exactly that we’re dealing with. I almost got executed while I was in Elf prison and now I’m basically a fugitive, so,” She shrugged, throwing her hands up a bit as she did. Riz grimaced and she sighed heavily again, dropping her hands onto her lap. “I’m fine.” 

    Riz looked at her, skeptically raising his brow.

    “You don’t seem fine.” He challenged. She turned her head and shot him a look, opening her mouth to say something, but he continued before she had a chance, “You don’t have to talk about it. I’m not here to be a dick, I was just worried about you. I was really worried about you while you were gone and I thought maybe that I’d feel better now that you’re back with us but… I’m still worried.” It was his turn to shrug, lifting his shoulders and letting them fall gently back down. 

    “I don’t know what’s gonna happen with you and your sister or you and your family and these fuckin’ elves. There are still so many things we don’t have answers for and I don’t.. I don’t like not having answers. But when you weren’t here it just became so much more clear to me that nobody—” He stopped himself short, scrunching her nose in thought for a moment before continuing, “We can’t— I can’t do this without you.” He adjusted the hat atop his head. “This isn’t gonna happen again. I won’t let it happen again.” 

    “Well we seem to have taken down Calethriel Tower so I don’t think it could even if you wanted it to.” She said teasingly. 

    “Yeah I wanted to ask what happened with all that but there hasn’t really felt like a right time?”

    “Oh, Fig played her bass and it cracked a gem that made the whole thing come crumbling down. It was kind of rad, honestly.” 

    Riz chuckled softly. “Wild..”

    “Yeah, but I didn’t really expect anything less.” Adaine laughed along with him. 

    Another silence, comfortable and soft, settled between them as they looked out into the sanctuary, Fabian still dancing as the rest of the group encouraged him. 

    Still looking forward, Riz spoke again, “I’m sorry you got kidnapped and held as a prisoner, Adaine. We should’ve protected you so much better than we did. I wanted to come break you out sooner but we had some hang ups when we first got here, a bit of culture shock that set us back longer than I wanted and then the usual nonsense that set us back even more. I didn’t want you feeling like we were partying and having a good time and enjoying ourselves while you were being tortured or whatever... It felt fucked up.” 

    “That’s because it probably was a little fucked up.” She said, an ever-so-slight grin on her face as she teased him. 

    “I know,” He sighed, not completely acknowledging her teasing tone, “I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Fabian’s grandpa is too much to handle, honestly, and I thought the trees were kind of a nice vibe but then they started singing and it’s just…” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and refocusing, “I’m just glad you’re with us again… This whole thing,” He gestured around to the rest of the party, to the van, to their surroundings, “Isn’t the same without you.” 

    She pursed her lips and gave a small smile, nodding her head slightly. 

    “I’m here if you ever want to talk, you know that, right?” He turned his head again to look at her, holding eye contact with her. 

    “I know,” She parroted the words he’d said not but a few seconds before, but sounding much gentler. “Thanks, Riz.” She smiled at him. It was a saddened, anxious, and broken smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

    “Anything for my best friend.” He replied, giving her a small smile and nudging her side gently with his elbow.

    After a few more seconds of silent eye contact, communicating thoughts of understanding and concern and care that Adaine felt too exhausted to have exchanged out loud, they both looked forward again. Sitting in silence, no longer alone, the comfort of Riz Gukgak’s presence beside her helped her feel like maybe she’d be alright outside of Elmville for a little while longer after all.

#fantasy high #fantasy high fanfic #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #dimension 20 #adaine and riz #riz and adaine #is this good? no #am i proud of it? no #did it finally break my year long writers block? yes #so i will post it

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

#the love it takes series #to exist again fic #to become a man fic #dem speaks

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - Bonus: Avengers Annual 10/What If? 27

The X-Men, those Claremontian mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men! [more here]

(Avengers Annual 10 & What If? 27) - by Chris Claremont and Mary Jo Duffy, Michael Golden and Jerry Bingham

Avengers? You’re not here for Avengers! Let me make the following counterpoint:

Holy eye shadow, Rogue!

See, Avengers Annual 10 is less about the Avengers and more about three other things:

The rehabilitation of Carol Danvers who, after this, has had her fill of the Avengers and becomes an honorary member of the X-Men;

Spider-Woman and the X-Men trying to figure out what has happened to Ms. Marvel;

Mystique trying to spring her Brotherhood from prison, using a secret weapon: Rogue.

Depending on my mood that day, I might name Rogue as my favourite-ever X-Man, so I really could not skip her debut issue. Instantly iconic, all of this:

Her streak;

Her signature green outfit with hoodie;

Her accent.

Queen.

I love how Claremont once again almost effortlessly introduces a strong female character, one that single-handedly takes down three of the strongest Avengers. Also note how free Rogue still is with her powers: fun, flirty, without the tragic can’t-touch-anyone-angle that will define her for the next three decades.

I’m sorry, am I getting ahead of myself?

This story begins as a whodunit: who pushed an amnesiac Carol Danvers off the Golden Gate Bridge and stole her mind? For that matter, where did she came from? Wasn’t she happily married and pregnant in some alternative dimension last time the readers saw her? Spider-Woman rescues her from the choppy water and calls Professor Xavier to help out. He manages to retrieve the Jane Doe’s identity and knows who attacked her: a woman named Rogue.

Rogue, meanwhile, skulks about the Avengers Mansion, first taking out Captain America and then attacking Thor.

Considering what this comic is about, I don’t believe Hawkeye’s throwaway mysognism is accidental here.

Rogue’s powers work as follows: through touch, she can steal other people’s powers and memories. The longer she touches someone, the longer she’ll have them - with the looming threat of the theft becoming permanent.

After absorbing Thor, Rogue is faced with three Avengers who’s powers she can’t absorb - Spider-Woman (covered in a suit); Vision (robot) and Wonder Man (being of pure energy? Idk, I’m not really familiar with him other than his bromance with Beast). Hoping the three powers she has in her arsenal - Ms. Marvel’s, Thor’s and Cap’s - will be enough, Rogue flees.

Mystique, meanwhile, has duped Iron Man by pretending to be the Wasp and has paralysed Tony Stark in his suit with some sort of device. She picks up the powered-up Rogue and their plan becomes clear:

Rogue immediately earns her place in my heart by using billionaire Tony Stark the way the Coyote uses anvils. (Also note the odd way of spelling ‘sugah’.)

I love how both the Brotherhood and the X-Men continually pull focus from the Avengers: for an Avengers-comic, it's surprising how much they're pushed to the background. Again, this makes sense if you know what this issue really is about, but that won’t become clear until the epilogue. I don’t mind, it means we get a ton of great moments, like the Blob calling Mystique ‘Misty’:

My God, this era’s Destiny/Mystique is even more obvious than 90’s Rictor/Shatterstar.

A battle erupts. One funny moment is actually seeing Destiny fight. I’ve never really read comics about this incarnation of the Brotherhood and my collection mostly takes off after Legion Quest, so I mostly know Destiny posthumously. I always figured that, as a villain, she stood somewhere off on the side, delivering cryptic messages. I never realized she was the one to almost shoot Senator Kelly, nor that her powers are this practical.

X-Men drinking game rule 11: Drink anytime someone fatshames the Blob.

The fight is pretty evenly matched until Spider-Woman releases Iron Man from Mystique’s little trap. Soon, the Avengers overwhelm the Brotherhood. While Mystique and Rogue manage to flee, Destiny, Avalanche, Pyro and the Blob are detained again.

With the main antagonists sorted, we return to the actual storyline: the rehabilitation of Ms. Marvel. Professor X has managed to tease her out of her catatonic state and offers her therapy to restore her missing memories and powers. (The ones stolen by Rogue.) The Avengers, not fully understanding why Carol won’t ask them for help, eventually come by for a house call.

Carol asks the X-Men to leave while the Avengers gingerly confront her. It’s very awkward.

“Fuck the Avengers. Taking my beer.” - Wolverine, probably.

See, what all this refers to is the rape of Ms. Marvel. I haven’t read the particular comic in which this happens (Avengers 200), so if you want all the details, I’ll refer you to this article. Before I get into the details, it’s important to note that Claremont was the writer for Carol Danvers in her solo-series, giving her agency and turning Ms. Marvel into a three-dimensional character. The title was then cancelled and Carol was shuffled off to the Avengers. (Rogue was, in fact, planned to make her debut in that the solo-Ms. Marvel series, as one of Ms. Marvel’s new antagonists. Presumably, Rogue would steal her powers there, too. We all know Claremont loves to strip his heroes and heroines of their powers to show they’re even more badass without them.)

As an Avenger, Carol was wooed by some other-dimensional dude/entity named Marcus. He courted her by giving her flowers, worshipping the ground she stepped on and, oh yeah, ‘subtly’ influencing her mind to make her fall in love with him and consequently impregnating her.

Yes.

Now, Claremont is no stranger to putting his characters through their paces and he gleefully makes use of the whole mental manipulation-trope. In fact, telepathically coercing someone to fall in love with you is absolutely what Mastermind did to Jean Grey: he probably violated her just as much as Marcus did Carol. The difference is how it’s treated in the narrative: Mastermind’s actions are never laughed away or apologized for and are the direct cause for his downfall. They help trigger Jean’s transformation to the Dark Phoenix, whose first deed is taking out her fury on ‘Jason Wyngarde’.

That’s… not what happened with Ms. Marvel. There, the narrative condones Marcus’ actions by framing it as ‘her happy ending’ (married and pregnant, yay!), something which is celebrated by the Avengers.

This is where Carol calls them out for their bullshit.

We call this ‘The Reason You Suck’-Speech. It’s a thing of beauty.

The Avengers depart, tail between their legs, and Carol hangs out with the cool X-kids from now on. For now, at least.

So, this issue is not only a landmark because it’s where Rogue debuts, but you can also see Chris Claremont going to bat for one of characters: he (presumably reluctantly) gave back the character of Carol Danvers when her solo was cancelled, proceeded to see how terribly they massacred his girl and then claimed that ownership right back.

Good for you, Claremont.

***

The “What If… the Phoenix Had Not Died”-issue is kind of boring, because it’s basically a rehash of the Phoenix Saga. Why am I paying attention to it? Because of the (mild) gore (and because the Avengers Annual wouldn’t fill a whole post). Anyway, it’s like watching a Final Destination-movie: it’s silly, light on plot and never a particularly thought-provoking movie, but it’s still fun to see all those people inventively but haplessly die.

Plot! Instead of committing suicide on the moon, the Shi’ar strip Jean of her powers after her trial. Jean is trapped in a barren mental state, almost feeling like she's a veggie. But Jean's powers refuse to remain dormant: slowly, her telepathy returns.

When Galactus threatens the Shi’ar homestead, Lilandra summons the X-Men as her champions. Jean embraces her Phoenix-side and defeats Galactus. Everyone is grateful and super-convinced Jean can handle the Phoenix this time! Yay!

And, because that battle with Galactus took a lot out of her, Jean decides she can have a little asteroid. As a treat. She keeps slipping up on her diet, supping on the occasional meteor and lonely planet to keep her power levels up. It turns out to be a slippery slope: finally, she consumes another star (in an uninhabited system! And a small one! How dare you judge her!), but when she returns to the mansion…

The absolute worst moment to forget you have powers, Kitty.

Xavier attempts to bind the Phoenix, but last time, Jean helped him fight from within. This time, there's not much Jean left. Without breaking a sweat, the Phoenix wipes his brain. But she doesn’t stop there. Maybe the Phoenix remembers that, last time, she was undone by the principles of “friendship is magic”. This time, she’s determined to not let it get so far.

It’s absolutely bone-chilling.

And the stars blinked As they watched her carefully Jealous of the way she shone - Atticus

I wonder if there’s a rhyme or reason to the way Jean murders her friends: is it random? Does she go for the ones she loves the most first? Does she save Cyclops for last, knowing killing him might trigger Jean to respond?

The narration mentions that the three remaining X-Men are the most powerful ones: Polaris, Havok and Cyclops. (I would’ve swapped in Storm for Cyclops, but whatever.) They have formulated a quick plan: Polaris pulls focus while Havok and Cyclops shift into position. Phoenix disintegrates Polaris while Havok and Scott try and blast Phoenix to smithereens.

But at the last moment, Scott can’t. Havok’s blast alone is not enough. Phoenix shoots him through the heart and then, finally, kills Cyclops. That’s when Jean resurfaces, realizing what she’s done. She can’t take it - she’s in the mood to dissolve in the sky, as per Virginia Woolf - and she lets the Phoenix take over.

Phoenix finally lives up to her potential: The End of All That Is.

It's a mediocre plot with a lame ramp-up to a terrifying conclusion. In the regular universe, the thing that triggers the Phoenix is the utter violation of Jean’s body and mind; here, it’s being confronted by Kitty. One is the proverbial red cloth in front of the bull, the other is being assaulted by an ineffective wet cloth. The Phoenix Saga is iconic because all the pieces were carefully put in place; this just feels rushed an unearned.

Also, the Watcher is full of shit. You can’t say you don’t pass judgment whilst simultaneously comparing the merits of one tragedy to the other. Shut up, Uatu.

Check back next week for your regularly scheduled X-Men Abridged! It’s time for 1982 and the brood saga!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #rogue #mystique #destiny #carol danvers #ms marvel #wolverine #cyclops #colossus #phoenix #storm #angel #iceman #beast #nightcrawler #kitty pryde #polaris #havok

[lovelyirony]

chilled

December is made up of many things, but warmth has never been one of them for Tony. 

December is cold because large houses are drafty and Tony never wears the warm kind of sweaters that are made with love and Christmas is all about commercialization and an awkward family dinner because it’s not like they could go anywhere. 

Think of the press. 

Think of the fact that Tony knows his family is a complete fucking sham and the only escape he gets is a balcony window with harsh air that clears his lungs and stings through bone. 

If he hadn’t made a promise to Jarvis that he would stop smoking then by god a cigarette would feel fantastic in between his two fingers as he looked out at the landscape. 

Being wealthy buys property that’s exclusive, probably shouldn’t be as large as it is, and it gives you an incredible feeling of being lonely all the time. And when there is snow softly falling and dampening all of the sound, it makes you go a little bit stir-crazy. 

His mother plays Tchaikovsky on the piano. She plays a lot. He used to play when he was eleven and his fingers would move so fast and he’d play it all and his mother would grin but the thing is, he can’t feel the music, right? 

People say that when you play an instrument, you should feel it. Tony’s not sure if everyone’s lying to themselves to cover up the feeling that they know they are frauds or if Tony genuinely probably has a problem with himself. 

(It’s probably the latter, but when you have a dad who probably has a fear of therapy, you don’t go to said therapy and then you find newer ways to cope that will be unpacked in twenty years when you go to the therapy and your therapist will tell you issues that you sort of knew about but you’re not really thinking about yet. Shit like that.) 

Tony stares at drawings. He does this every year and it’s his sort of family tradition except it’s not really a family tradition it’s really his own. 

Norman Rockwell. A good artist, one that Tony envies because he draws all of these scenes that convey such a warmth and Tony thinks he read somewhere that he used people that he knew as models for the works and wow. Just wow. 

Tony kind of wonders what it would be like if he came home from college and his parents would kiss him on the cheek and his father would clap a hand on his shoulder and ask him about classes. 

But that really seems all too much like Leave it to Beaver and on a deeply personal level, Tony finds that show to be domestically terrifying. 

Christmas dinner is boring. It always is. Because after Jarvis leaves on Christmas Eve with all of the cooking done (just warm it up in the oven, Sir) then they sit down. Alone. 

“Isn’t it lovely that we’re all together?” Mom says, because she’s said that every single year since he was fourteen and learned to drive and was probably out every single week because it was a fucking escape from hell. 

“Yes,” Howard says. “But I can feel your attitude from here, Anthony. Straighten up.” 

“Got it,” Tony murmurs. “But it’s Tony.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Howard scoffs. “Who in the hell calls you that? Besides the tabloids, which you told us you would stay out of.” 

“I have, I got rid of that t-shirt you saw six months ago,” Tony mentions. “And lots of people call me Tony.” 

“The people who matter?” Howard asks and Tony hates this question, hates with a burning passion. 

“To you? No. To me? Yeah.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Howard asks. “Are you saying that business doesn’t matter to you? 

Finally. Some fucking excitement. Because Tony knows that while he probably could not tell you Howard’s birthday on any given day or what his favorite song was or whatever it was you were supposed to know about your father, he did know that Howard had a temper that rose to every occasion. 

“Don’t be stupid it’s never fit you quite right,” Tony retorts. “You know I care about business and I care about SI. But the board directors you have right now are all in their fifties and sixties like you and you bet your ass that they won’t stay into their late nineties because they have wives to cheat on and yachts to buy to fuck up the coasts.” 

“Enough,” Maria interjects. “Enough from both of you. It’s Christmas, we are not having an argument at the dinner table.” 

“It’s the only conversation we get all year, why stop now?” Tony taunts. 

“To your room. Now!” Howard thunders. 

An escape, thank god. 

Tony wasn’t sure how much it would take to piss off his parents on a holiday. 

He calls Rhodey, who is grateful. 

“Holy shit I forgot about how much my family won’t shut up,” Rhodey groans. “How are your parents?” 

“Horrible and bad actors, the usual,” Tony says with a shrug. “Jarvis made cream cheese coffee cake this year. I’m seeing how long I can hide it from them. I bet they never find out.” 

Rhodey laughs. 

“Well listen to the new family gossip of this Christmas...” 

Rhodey tells him about an aunt who brought a new boyfriend over and said boyfriend is very disconnected and does not like small children, so obviously he will not last more than another month. 

“By the way, Mama has a sweater for you, when are you gonna come get it?” Rhodey asks. “I’m not mailing that shit to you, someone’ll try to sell it.” 

“It’s a Mrs. Rhodes’ original, who could blame them? The craftsmanship...” Tony trails off. 

Mrs. Rhodes’ sweaters were the stuff of legend. They were also more than half of Tony’s winter wardrobe. They were the ugliest things on the planet, and not even really intentionally ugly, she just made them that way. 

They were Tony’s favorite. 

“What about now?” Tony asks with a sigh. 

“Me, bringing Tony Stark to a family party? Scandal!” Rhodey mocks. “But yeah, let me ask mom.” 

There’s a muffled call and Rhodey’s mother asking if it’s really okay with the parents and Tony lies and says that it is because really his parents couldn’t give a shit and he’ll just leave a note. 

(Fun story time: when Tony was eight they forgot him at an airport and he was there for fourteen hours before he started to cry and asked to speak to Jarvis, who had called about Tony with Maria, who had said he was having a ball at the pool. 

True fucking story.) 

So Tony drives in his car to the Rhodes residence, which really isn’t that far. Forty-five minutes. 

The street is lined with cars and some family down the street is gawking at Tony’s shiny car that he’s restored himself and maybe he’ll take Rhodey to see it when the crowd thins out. 

Rhodey’s family is hushed when Tony enters, although Jeannette laughs, brings him into a hug, and announces to the whole family that, 

“Hey everyone! This is Tony, he’s the bastard who steals all of my blackberry jam.” 

“Don’t say bastard in front of the kids,” Rhodey retorts. “They might think you’re a bitch or something.” 

There’s a round of laughs and just like that Tony slips on his new Christmas sweater, learns that people actually do drink eggnog in the holiday season, and gets into a passionate debate with Uncle Harold about the worst Christmas song ever made. 

And for the first time in a long time, Tony feels warm. 

#christmas #lovelyirony writes #tony stark #ironhusbands #rhodey #listen rhodey deosn't give a fuck

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 19

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Drugs, decomp, insects/parasitism, myiaisis, emeto, myso, copro TW’s. I’m pretty sure this is the grossest thing I’ve ever written. Enjoy

Skin tight hypoxia gripped Melancholy’s scalp. He wheezed for breath, jerking upright in a coughing fit of salt and rancor. Face still coated in a thick grime, his eyes and nose burned almost as bad as his lungs, and he pulled off his glasses to claw the muck off his face. A rasping coughing fit seized him, only for his stomach to lay out its objections to his activities right into his lap. Everything crawled inside-out with haptic echoes of a phantom myiasis. His diaphragm continued to spasm, adding hiccups to the mix of torture.

The second time he vomited, blood spotted the rejection.

“Fuck, it took you long enough.” Jared snatched him up by the back of his collar and threw him into an office chair. He jammed a shop rag into his hand with bitter, mocking pity. “Does the chemist need some water?”

“--’Zhemoy,” ‘Choly choked out, breathing still unsteady. “I could have-- I could have died.”

“But you didn’t.”

A jar of water found the chemist’s hands, and he immediately without hesitation squinted his eyes and mouth taut and poured some of it down his face. He then poured out a bit into the other side of the rag and did his best to work the ordure loose. Unable to smell anything but the penetrating musk of brahmin dung, he distrusted his ability to gauge the safeness of the water he’d been handed, and did not use it to try to drown the hiccups. Once he got his eyes rid of enough rheum-muck, he opened them, and used the remaining water to wash off his glasses. He dared not look to Jared, to confirm his appearance.

“Look, chemist. You’re going to retain your value to me. I’ve invested too much in you. What’s a more potent dose than the raw source itself? I watched you just now, writhing like the insect you are. That had to be the most intense flight I’ve seen in my life. --Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

‘Choly trembled and shook his head, wringing his hands in his lap and feeling very small. Attentive flies crawled all over him, and diligent maggots did their best to rid his clothing of grime. He squinted his eyes shut and tried his best not to fall into hyperventilating.

“Please, no. No--”

“Do you at least know where you are, you little fuck? You’re sitting in my office. At my terminal. And you’re not going anywhere until you write down everything that you just experienced.”

He slowly picked up his head in the direction of the desk, and stared hollowly at the computer screen. Loathing overwhelmed him in the moment and he shrank from the terminal with a low whine, only to force himself to square up to it, and shrink away, several times. At last he put his glasses back on his face, and recognized at least his hiccups had resolved.

Jared glared at the back of his head until he was goodly confident ‘Choly was committed to the journal entry.

Flies. Flies on everything. Cleaning everything. Righting it all. Devoted. Diligent. I don’t know where they’re coming from. Are they coming from Jared? Jared’s face... He became the largest bloatfly I’ve ever seen. Drooling, adamant mouthparts. Piercing compound eyes. His bloated body teemed with lichinka. Ready for my supplication. Everything was so tight. Flesh sluicing from my belly as they wriggled out to crown my pudenda like a coronation of sex. Appetent. Purifying. Perpetual. Purulent. I was so purulent. But I wouldn’t be for long.

They took me with them when they transfigured into mature bloatflies. A piece of my consciousness arose in each of them, a cloud of rapture. I was present in everything, humble to debride the world of its entropy. Multiplying in a golden mean forever. Everything could be clean.

Sweat drenched him in hard loathing, and he heaved as he saved his draft. He couldn’t get more explicit than that. It hurt his head too much to try to put to words what he had seen. Every time he took Jet, it seemed the conjugating theme was maggot therapy. This was the first time it had brought him a genuine state of entheogeny, and he rubbed at his upper arms in displeasure of coming down from it. Everything felt so... lifeless as the halo of activity faded away. His head hurt. His everything hurt.

In the time it had taken for him to compose the journal requested of him, he found that Jared had excused himself. The wheelchair was still out on the assembly line floor, and divorced of it ‘Choly couldn’t muster the faculty or energy to get himself to it. And he was a combination of too tired and too filthy to simply doze off. So, to keep himself entertained, he turned again to the terminal, only to realize that Jared had left it logged on as the administrator.

He’d never read Jared’s journals before, and he wondered if anyone in the outfit had. Absently biting his lip refreshed the rancid tang that stained his face, and he flinched. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Jared wasn’t even out on the foreman’s mezzanine that overlooked the assembly floor, then went into his journals. He jumped around basing his choices on the titles of each file, and began with one called ‘Setting Up Shop.’

Gunfire’s finally quieted down. Suppose that means either Lonnie or Gristle wiped up the last of the feral ghouls or they’re currently serving as someone’s meal.

But Lexington is secure, I can finally get to work.

Well, ‘Choly thought, somebody sure became the ferals’ meal in the Super Duper Mart. They didn’t look at all the part to belong to Jared’s outfit, though. He opened ‘Subjects.’

It’s not the chems.

They’re just a trigger for the sight. It’s me. I’m the problem. Wish I’d realized before my arms looked like pin-cushions, but at least it’s a new lead.

I need subjects.

The chemist squinted. Jared really did believe that psychedelic drugs could make people legitimately psychic. But injections? 'Choly thought all this nonsense revolved around Jet, an inhalant. ‘Walden’ came next.

The pharmacy across the way lit up like Christmas last week. No clue how that fucker got in my town without anybody noticing, but color me impressed that he managed to restore electricity to that place. I had Jerry case the building, top to bottom, and every way in requires either a key or a password. We’ll have to arrange a little rooftop meeting next time our little showman comes up on the roof to dole out chems with his--rifle? That still slays me.

The part that really gets me is, my outfit tells me he’s in a wheelchair. I’ve only ever seen one other person in the Commonwealth use one. It can’t be a coincidence. I have to talk to him.

Skimming a few more entries, he got a few laughs out of confirmation that Jared didn’t genuinely hate him. At least, not before today. Most mentions of him in Jared’s journals involved wanting desperately to flip ‘Choly’s ‘vision’ the ‘right direction.’ Then there was ‘Experiments Continue,’ and his face slacked.

Still no successes but the rumor of free chems has brought plenty of new recruits. Ranks are nearly back up to where they were before we cleaned out Lexington. Lonnie thinks entertaining the chemist is a waste of time, says we need to spend our time building up our defenses.

But Lonnie doesn’t make the decisions. I do.

She does seem to be enjoying her new position, though. Maybe another dose of Psycho will get her visions firing.

‘Choly’s hand went to his mouth at the mention of cyclomorphine, and he sank back in his seat. Jared had access to Psycho, and was trying to jog hallucinations with it as he’d done of the Jet. The raider leader had told the chemist he’d had no interest in branching out into other drugs until they’d done comprehensive work with Jet first. Knowing what Jared had told him before this most recent trip, had the raider simply gotten impatient without any results yet, or was something more sinister taking place here? Holy God how did he get his hands on that stuff... He hadn’t wanted to find anything compelling, incriminating or otherwise, and he pressed on, haunted, with the most recent entry: ‘Stumped.’

Nothing is working. The old woman, she used to just huff some Jet, pop some pills, then she’d start babbling, spouting vision after vision. And they all turned out true. The Raiders burning the town, killing the parents, stealing the kids. Stealing me. I remember the look in her eyes when she saw my fate. “Kid, you’re gonna be a monster.” All true.

If I could get that sort of power, that sight, the Commonwealth, the other gangs. No one would have a prayer.

But nothing’s working. Maybe I need to try upping the dosages. I’ll have to talk with the chemist and see how potent we can get.

“You’re gonna be a monster,” he mouthed, his soul flying from his body.

There was no other explanation in ‘Choly’s haunted grey matter, than that this soothsaying junkie had seen ‘Choly’s hallucinations of Jared becoming a bloatfly. Of course Jared’s interested in developing psychic abilities for power alone. Of course he is.

'Choly backed out to the main screen, and returned to the ‘Melancholy 8′ entry from the holotape in the disc deck, so the terminal would be open to it. The more rational explanation was that this woman had indicated a monstrosity of character, but ‘Choly just couldn’t quit the thought as he reread what he’d written. Context meant everything. Over... and over... and...

“Hey, chemist, you’re still at it? Fuck, you’re taking forever.”

‘Choly jerked in his seat, snapped out of his lucid horror by Jared’s return.

“I, yeah. Yeah, I’m done.” He looked to Jared, to find him still entirely human, and he sighed out his relief a little too readily. The raider had brought the wheelchair, folded up. Pushing away from the desk in the rolling chair, ‘Choly began, “I very much hope this stuff doesn’t come true, and very much hope it’s ridiculous that it ever could.”

Jared leaned down to skim what ‘Choly had written, and his features alternated from hardened to ridiculous. He barked a laugh and slapped ‘Choly in the head, only to continue laughing, almost in tears.

“You are a horny little fuck...”

“I haven’t gotten any in over two centuries.” He let out a small laugh, realizing he’d inadvertently referenced facts which had precipitated Jared’s prior behavior. “I suppose that has a lot to do with it.”

With a delirious sigh, Jared smiled at him and gesticulated emphatically as he spoke next.

“I’ve been thinking, and I have to ask. In some of your other journals, you’ve talked about using some pistol in the same way you use your rifle. A... Nagant? I know it’s total bollocks that you’d have these... bloatfly maggots or whatever you hallucinate every time. Those things are like a dick joke. Having ‘em in the gun’s like, a metaphor for fucking everything under the sun or something. And you getting intimate, up close and personal, with that thing. Real raunchy. ...Is that a real gun you’re talking about? Or is it a vapor just like everything else in that fucked up little head of yours?”

The chemist straightened, and thought how to reply as he slowly wrung his hands in his lap.

“I... yes, and no. The gun is real, but the ammunition and its ability to fire them aren’t.” He stopped making eye contact. “It’s a Russian revolver I found, some vet’s war prize I guess. Takes 7.62′s, but fuck if you’ll ever likely put your hands on any. I can’t think of any regular issue American guns that use it, and the military only let vets have the weapon itself as a trophy--the ammo itself was considered contraband. I only really know the basics when it comes to actually breaking down and futzing with the mechanics of a firearm, but I suppose it’s... entirely plausible to make it work like my syringer rifle.”

Jared squinted at him, unsure whether ‘Choly was being an idiot.

“You can’t put darts in a pistol, revolver or not. Just the combustion in the chamber will destroy it.”

“The Nagant... is different. It’s a gas-seal revolver. It fires the ammo through air pressure, and relies only partly on combustion. I would imagine there’s a way to rig it to rely completely on a pneumatic mechanism. 7.62mm isn’t too far off from the ammo a syringer rifle uses, either.”

“Where is this... Nagant.”

‘Choly made a funny face and shook his head in a vague confusion. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like Jared was trying to confirm facts about a Jet journal.

“I have it stored someplace safe. What, why?”

“I’m very good with metalworking equipment, and very good with firearms. Been playing around with the assembly plant amenities for close to a year, and I grew up in Quincy. You’ve seen how good I am, from how we cooperated putting together the Jet rig. I could take a look at it. And I could probably make it happen. Give it ammo it can use. Make it proud again.”

‘Choly stiffened, recalling that Jared’s journals indicated he had access to Psycho--at least at one point--and he couldn’t imagine a worse outcome. But gradually, his judgment got the better of him and he nodded, then nodded eagerly.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow. So you can look at it.”

The moment the words came from him, he regretted it. And yet, Jared seemed more pleased with him than he’d ever been. With his help ‘Choly transferred over to the now unfolded wheelchair, and Jared escorted him down the mezzanine ramp to meet Angel.

“My stars you’ve gotten most filthy, Mister Carey!” Its tendrils flailed about in utmost concern before taking up the handles and motoring him along. “Shall I help you bathe upon arriving home? I scarce would think you could scrub all that away on your own.”

As they exited, Jared called out after him, “Melancholy! Don’t you forget your promise.”

He shot Jared an o-kay with one tired hand, not looking back.

“Angel, I... I think this warrants a dip in the river. We’ll stop at the pharmacy for the toiletries, I guess.”

“But Sir, you’ll be soaking wet all the way home. You haven’t come across a change of clothes. I should know. You deserve a freshening up.”

“I... have a change of clothes,” he began, almost reluctantly. “Don’t worry about that much. It’s in your storage compartment, actually.”

They fell silent the rest of the way back to the Lexington Walden, to limit any likelihood of stirring unwanted ghoul attention. On the way to their pit stop, all ‘Choly could wonder was whether Jared were more pleased with the journal entry, or with the promise of a new toy for his inhumane scheming... and he couldn’t help but wonder why he was so attentive to gain the favor of this abomination.

He’d given Melancholy everything he could have wanted. But at what price?

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#fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #fo4 fanfic #the anatomy of melancholy #the purkinje effect #melancholy

[mcvfd]

S05E02: Don’t Drink the Water in Baldur’s Gate

Nissa gets drunk. Carlos drinks his own pee. Kanye sees a puppy. Um wonders if asking the gang for help was a mistake.

TL;DR: The gang’s first assignment is to investigate a disease outbreak that the Queen thinks is caused by a deliberate contamination. Um, having already investigated this, quickly helps the gang find evidence that the outbreak is being caused by Taldic Lowery of Fresenius Restoration, who has been stockpiling medicine to cure the disease.

Background:

Long story short, we're no longer wanted criminals! We got pardoned, had a party in the castle, Queen flirted with half of everyone and invites everyone to her room at night

Okay Queen isn't actually flirting with us, she's actually a dragon and has had her eye on us since Master P, had very mom things to say.

She's secretly running things as an effectively immortal being, "steering the ship" for humanity's own good. We've now joined a secret group of problem solvers, not quite special ops. It comes with perks!

We haven't been told who the baddies are exactly - there's an implication that there are other immortal beings who don't like order as much - but the queen's plans are so long term they won't have any impact on our lives anyways

We have some special equipment and a job ready for this session

Bracers/magical items:

Nissa got a sweet ass belt buckle in the shape of a dragon

Carlos got a lighter on a Beastie Boys style chain

Um got a ring

Averlyth got a dangling ear cuff

Kanye got horn-rimmed unassuming hipster eyeglasses

Our first assignment:

The dragon queen suspects that the recent outbreak of eyerot along the Crimmor river is caused by deliberate contamination. Your assignment is to investigate the epidemic, resolve as per code of ethics.

Um remembers relevant info from when he had gone home for therapy after we brutally murdered Burnie Cinders:

Um had discovered there were lots of blind people around, infected by this disease caused eyerot

He had discovered a company, Fresenius Restoration, had started up pop up clinics that only had cures that worked for a couple days

And then later he found the owner - Taldic Lawrey, broke into his house, found records of various properties they owned (including a house not in a major city)

And then he went there and found a bunch of eyebright - either a plant or the name of the potion you make from the plant - and essentially this company is hoarding it

So Um went back with some and distributed it to Baldur's Gate and then got frustrated and then teleported into the future

Jarrod: "I'd like to make a suit of armor that looks like a suit and tie

Scott: "There it is. Good to have you back, Jarrod"

We can use our teleporters to fast-travel to the Baldur's Gate field office whenever we'd like (DM’s note: This is not accurate. You can teleport once to get to your assignment, and once more to get back home when it’s over)

They have resources available for us, e.g. they can figure out a distribution method for the cure, they can hire lawyers

[The group is informed that the intent of the magical item is fast travel and not to game with the possibilities of teleportation]

Jarrod: You know, we could just sell the real cure

Scott: That's right, we think Fresenius is on the right track

Mart: This is what happens when a character misses out on the entire morality arc

Brainstorming

We could profit from selling the real cure

We could take over a pop up clinic and sell the real cure

We still don't know where eyerot is actually coming

The group fast travels first, works with the field office

Nissa asks for records of the infection

They don't have computers but they can send magic crows and gather the info in a few hour

Carlos proposes having Averlyth check out the water until the water isn't that fucked up

Averlyth proposes infiltrating the pop up clinics and replacing the temporary cures with the permanent one

Um regretfully informs Averlyth that the temporary cure is actually just healing from clerics, not a medicine

Carlos proposes having a concert to dose everyone with the permanent cure, with the Cure playing

Kanye immediately proposes breaking the game mechanic of teleportation to have Averlyth doing both healing and the searching

The group decides to head down to the river.

Averlyth uses some kind of detect magic to look at the contamination - there's all sorts of gross things in there, but there's something that's definitely poison, although very faint

We wander up river for a couple of hours, leaving the bounds of the city hiking through the field. The traces of contamination don't seem to be changing in intensity, pointing to a possible source much further up river. Seems to confirm that it's not natural.

A magical raven shows up that can talk, but chooses not to (Kanye: The raven peers at you in disdain). Nissa takes the scroll and thanks the bird, he sorta rolls his eye and leaves

The scroll tells us that the initial research is that the outbreak has been happening up and down the river and that the outbreak was stronger but less numerous upstream.

They were able to discover there were no outbreaks above the city of Elturel.

Nissa verifies with the DM that we can't just teleport to any field office that we want to

Kanye verifies with the DM that we didn't all just get free far-speech from the magical bracer

DM: I'm going to write a book called don't play D&D with engineers

Carlos verifies with the DM that a permanent cure does not make you immune to further infections

DM: I mean, if you get penicillin after the clap, you can still get the clap, right?

Steve: ....why are you asking me?

Um reads off a possibly stolen scroll, reciting the background of eyerot and eyebright for the group in a dry doctor's voice

Averlyth: So from now on, for the couple days trip, no one drink anything until I purify it

Nissa: What if we bring a keg?

Averlyth: I'm just offering my purification services, you don't have to take them

Carlos: Got it, I'll just drink my own pee

The group has learned that Kanye might have PTSD from Gorevan reanimating fish on the boat during the original trip away from Mulmaster

Nissa questions how the group is supposed to expense the wagon

Kanye questions the per diem

DM clarifies there is no per diem or reimbursement, we're paid via access to stuff and loot

Averlyth: Do they have a limo-sized wagon?

DM: They do now. There's a dude out back frantically nailing together three wagons

Um: And three horses

The group acquires a stretched horse cart and several kegs of the finest quality ale and no fish

The group decides to stop by the warehouse, Fort Morninglord, (couple days trip) before heading up river to the city that may be the source of the poison. The plan is for Um to steal some of the cure (again) overnight before we make our way up towards dangerous waters.

Nothing has changed since Um's last visit. He waits until there's a gap in the patrol, then makes his way in. He sees a large stockpile of what must be thousands of doses of cure, a whole assembly line for making potions and drying racks of the herb.

He loads up his bag of 30 doses (10 full cures) and gets out without being noticed in like 15 minutes, group has barely sat down.

The group continues to the village of Elturel. There's couple of taverns, some inns, a church - it's more like a stop on the road rather than a trading hub.

Averlyth goes to the river bank to detect the magic again - the poison is diluted still, but definitely stronger here. It stops just up river of the village.

Kanye: All right! Let's kill the mayor

Kanye thinks he's drunk holy water and there's a very strong placebo effect

Nissa pores over the research, noting that there was a spike in the infections every few days for a couple of months now, and the last one was under a week ago

It doesn't seem like there are any obvious tracks around the river

The group splits up in the village!

Carlos goes to the LO-LYF Pub

Carlos pretends to represent a chemical company trying to figure out how to dump shit

Everyone knows he's bullshitting, but it's just how these people talk, they get how it works. Doug the Thug (tattooed on his knuckles) with a weird ear and a scar over his eye talks to Carlos. Doug P Thug. Douglas Penelope Thug. Of the New Hampshire thugs.

Carlos is able to find out that a bunch of local guys have been taking work at a dilapidated fort a couple days down the road, mostly ferrying chemical and drugs of some sort (no body really knows what) to and from various cities

Carlos questions how the jobs are happening, Doug says it's mostly a word of mouth kind of thing. One of the guys was working for a buddy of his, just keeps going on and on.

Carlos offers a pomegranate pipe for more info on how to get this job

Doug reveals there's a crew of guys heading out in the morning for the fort, and that if you meet them on the road at sun-up, you could probably just tag along with them.

Carlos pays the dude's tab.

Doug: "Take her sleazy"

Nissa goes to the High-life wine & dispensary (across the street)

The people have no idea what's going on

The weed is very good

Nissa gets extra weed for Carlos

Averlyth goes to the church (not a church of Bane) and unceremoniously performs some blood sacrifice and possibly graffiti

Averlyth gets kicked out, but she didn't try to talk to anyone anyways so whatever

Averlyth looks around for a pop-up clinic to see if she can help and possibly get info

There are no pop-up clinics in town since it's too small, but the doctor lets her know that he's been referring people to the next town over

Um lurks quietly at the Lo-Lyf

Saw Carlos working the room

Continues lurking and listening

Kanye is posted at the river

Kanye keeps a very active eye on people coming and going

Kanye doesn't seem any nefarious types carrying a biohazard oil can or any trench coats (although it is 2 in the afternoon)

Kanye: Maybe they're just trying to figure out the permanent cure and they need help, they've been using the warehouse to try and figure it out

Averlyth: They're also just poisoning people

Kanye: You're right we should just kill them all

Carlos and Kanye decide to go for the job

the others will go on the party wagon and try to stealthily trail behind them by half a day or so

We may not actually be that stealthy, there's sorta glass rolling around on the floors and things

Carlos spots the guy nominally in charge of these dudes, there's like 4 or 5 of them. He gives them a super complicated handshake. Guy goes "who's your friend?"

Kanye keeps trying to raise his shield of pedigree and Carlos keeps pushing it back down

Carlos's rental horse is Hyundae Alantra

Kanye has a rental miniature giant horse (it's just a pony but it's fucking ripped)

We're not sure if there's a real horse or if it's just a cardboard box cutout of a horse

Woodhouse is making clopping noises with coconuts

Carlos and Kanye ride up to the front gate of the fort in the morning. They're welcomed in, recognized as friends of Doug the Thug.

Nissa, Averlyth and Um are aways down the road. Um knows of a clearing up on a bluff with a view down on the fort, so we park the wagon and sober up.

"Professor" Proctor comes out of the fort. There's a squad of maybe 12 guys (the group that came in is like 5 or 6 dudes, plus some dudes that were already in the fort or came up this morning). It becomes clear that they have these freelance jobs on a regular basis - some of these guys look like they've been here bunch of times.

Proctor rattles off some instructions, for shipments, notes that there's a secret mission. Carlos volunteers for it, Doug the Thug says Carlos is a cool dude, Proctor says both Carlos and Kanye go with him, everyone else goes out and makes their delivers to Fresnius.

Not Fresno, a neighborhood in Neverwinter

Nissa has sobered up and was watching the guard rotation and stuff; she's guessing there's maybe about 15 guards in the place, not counting the thugs that just rolled in for assignments. A guard in the tower, guards patrolling the perimeter, etc, guards likely sleeping in the barracks.

Carlos and Kanye are led into Warehouse #1 - on one side of the warehouse is an enormous stack of padded crates containing cures (some of the guys are taking them and loading them onto horse carts). Near the middle of the warehouse there's sort of an assembly line production going on where dudes who are obviously junior alchemists are processing the herb and bottling it up, etc. There are drying racks, etc. Everything Um told us already

The alchemist takes the two of them to the far side where there is a smaller lab, which seems to contain about a gallon of a sickly green fluid in a receptacle hooked up to an apparatus. He takes it off, stoppers it and hands the two of them a letter and the gallon of sickly green fluid. The letter has a set of instructions telling them to bring the gallon all the way back to Elturel and depositing it at a very specific time for maximum potency.

On the way out of the fort, Carlos is looking around for any opportunities to place traps or leave backdoors open. Before he knows what's going on, Kanye has shoved the jug of poison into Carlos's arms and made a running start for Warehouse #2.

He makes it to the doors and slams straight into the sliding barn doors

The three start heading down the hill as soon as they see a large figure barreling towards the warehouse

Carlos pretends he doesn't know him and keeps walking

Kanye doesn't knock himself out but he is knocked flat on his ass for a second

Carlos (yelling to the closest guard): "It's okay, he thought he saw a puppy"

The guards don't know what to make of it because 1) It doesn't look like an attack, and 2) He hurt himself in the process

Kanye starts yelling about puppies

Carlos asks if there are puppies in the warehouses

The guard says he should leave

Carlos and Kanye communicate through fartie talkies that they're okay - Averlyth, Nissa and Um head back up to the wagon, and then the group reconvenes.

Averlyth is able to confirm that the poison is the concentrated shit that was seen in the river.

Significant group brainstorming

Plans to contact the authorities to arrest Taldic Lawrey

Carlos and Kanye will go confront TL

Nissa, Averlyth and Um will stand by at the fort

If he confesses to the poisoning plan, let the drake guard take it from there. Then, Nissa, Averlyth and Um can attack the fort, going for the cures and the alchemists at the same time (no chance for them to escape)

If he doesn't confess, then follow him to the house

If it turns out he's not the big bad........... will figure out then

Carlos: Yeah, and then we'll just call off the sting by farting into the fartie talkies

Averlyth: You realize that the fartie talkie does the farting, not us?

Carlos: Ohhhh I've been using it wrong this whole time

#recap