#Echos gg portraits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch. tags are hard. :(

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~3400

part i.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 10 November, 2019. 2:13 AM.

It’s 2:13 AM when Jeon Jungkook finally finds a match, the familiar in-game sound dragging his attention away from the illuminated screen of his iPhone to the monitor before him. He studies the SR - 3779 and 3761, respectively - and skims burning eyes across the members on each team. Four rocks, including himself, and two Masters.

One of them has a strange name - BIGMELON - that he stares at until he's zoning out, trying to make sense of it. Was his teammate a pervert or just hilarious?

"Good luck and have fun, everyone!"

Your cheer filters through his headphones crystal clear but he's somehow still surprised, head tilting curiously to the side. He hadn't expected a girl to be playing Overwatch at quarter past two in the morning.

When there's no response - he notices no one else is in the voice chat, an oddity for such a high ranking game - he takes it upon himself to keep you company. His username lights up as his finger glides across the ALT key, sleep-worn words breaking the silence.

"Thanks, you too."

Nothing follows until BIGMELON appears once again in the upper left-hand corner of his screen. You have a nice voice, he thinks. "Are you sticking with Widow?"

Jungkook takes in the team comp: Sigma, Hog, Genji, and Lucio. A little unconventional but not wholly un-doable. They're on King's Row, too, which is one of his favourite maps. Balanced enough that people aren't too salty when they get headshot but with enough coverage that he can get clear picks.

"Should I?"

"If you want." A pause and your hero slot is filled with Mercy's portrait. "I can damage boost."

He thinks he can hear the teasing. It's soft and sweet and a little rough - like you'd just woken up.

"Who says I need it?" Comes his immediate response, question chased out of his mouth by a laugh he can't help. It echoes, filling the quiet of his bedroom. He hopes you don't take it the wrong way.

"O—kay, Widow main. We'll see if you get anything from me."

It's an empty threat because you're giggling along with him. It's distracting in the strangest way. The sound bounces around in his ears and he can't help but focus on it, realizing belatedly that he's still sitting in spawn as the timer runs down for setting up defence.

"Are you going to join us?" You quip, emoting right beside his stationary sniper. "I didn't queue just to have someone go AFK."

Mischief colours your words and he laughs again, snorting as he finally presses W. Two sets of footsteps echo in game and he presses SHIFT once he's hit point - and with just a few seconds left to spare - launching Widowmaker's body onto the balcony overwatching it. Mercy follows, Guardian Angel carrying her into the air to alight behind the blue-skinned hero.

As the timer hits 0:01, Jungkook right-clicks, scoping in on the second-floor spawn door.

BOOM.

The kill feed reads DDEOKKOOKI x STRIKER007.

"I guess you didn't need the damage boost."

He can't help the sound he makes - a marriage between a witch's shriek and a pig's snort. It leaps out of his mouth, louder than he intends, and he feels equally bad for you and his hyungs. He's definitely going to get an earful in the morning - or any minute now, when one of them bursts into his room to berate him for being so loud. "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah." The way you speak has him grinning from ear to ear, nose scrunching in amusement. Mercy is flying across the map, healing stream trained on Genji as the cyborg ninja just narrowly misses an errant Hanzo arrow and dashes back to point. "I'm gonna take care of the rest of our team. Let me know if you need anything, O' Headshot God."

You're clowning him hard but he knows it's all in good fun. Still, he likes the nickname and decides to keep it, effectively picking off the attacking team's stealthily half-hidden Junkrat and Ana right after.

"Show-off!"

Then he's dinked in the head - health dropping to 30 from the partially-charged shot. He needs heals like yesterday.

Unfortunately, Lucio is up at choke with the tanks, skating circles around the base of the statue as they hold point. Jungkook doesn't see you immediately - he’s scanning his screen for your witch skin (of course) - only realizing you've appeared at his side when his health bar begins to climb. "Try to stay alive, yeah?"

"My bad," he drawls, scoping in the same instant the kill feed announces two more enemy deaths.

There are only a critical Reinhardt and protected Zarya left. The former falls the moment he drops shield and her bubble doesn't reset in time; the Russian tank dies in the next instant, his charged shot firing the moment it hits 100%.

"Thanks for the damage boost."

"Any time."

Then you're gone, off to support the rest of your team again while he grapples onto a different ledge and continues his oppressive gameplay. He feels a little bad when the opposing team goes double shield tank and swaps their Junkrat for a Pharah. He feels less so when he's slept out of nowhere. Four seconds feels like an eternity when he’s out in the open - vulnerable as a baby lamb in a den of lions.

"Looks like you're really making them mad." You'd been relatively quiet when not tending to him - likely because it was only the two of you in voice chat - and he startles when your comment breaks the quiet lofi he has going in the background.

"I don't know why. I'm just having fun." He's lying. You're laughing.

"Too much fun, I think."

"Maybe they should be better." Jungkook says this like he's commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky - offhand and nonchalant. It makes your giggles come harder. He can hear the scratch of your mic as if you've doubled over and it's now pressed into cotton clothing. He can't help but pat himself on the back.

"Please don't tell me you're going to 'gg ez' them when we're done."

Now he's feigned offense, gasping at the mere thought. "Of course not. I'm not that rude!"

"Well, you never know." You're right. People could be the worst when it came to online gaming, spewing vitriol and hurling insults the moment their egos were bruised (or inflated).

"I promise I'm not an asshole." He's not really sure why he feels the need to make this abundantly clear. After all, he'd probably never play with you again. Korea's density of players was just too great - you were just one in hundreds, thousands, millions.

Still, he smiles when you reassure him you don't think he is. "I'm just teasing. You seem nice."

"I am nice." Spoken in the same instance he lands two consecutive headshots - one on the bouncing, wall-riding enemy Lucio and the other on the momentarily grounded Pharah. You must see that, because you're mocking him in that dulcet tone of yours, caramel coating words and turning them soft like toffee.

"Not according to them." And not that you mind, it seems, because you're damage boosting him as he catches their out-of-position Rein in his sight. He whoops in triumph, eliciting another bemused sound from you.

"You know they're going to do everything to counter you when we go on attack." Which was in sub-one minute, the timer counting down the last thirty seconds of your team's defense.

"Who says I'm going Widow again?"

You're scandalized. "You mean you're not just a filthy Widow main?"

For a moment, Jungkook wonders if this is how his older members feel when he (and Jimin and Taehyung) mercilessly rib them. He thinks it must be and oh, how the tables have turned. He decides he doesn't really mind, though. It's all innocent fun and it's keeping him awake, aided by the cold brew he'd chugged at midnight.

"Woah - says the Mercy player?"

"Mercy is a respectable support, okay!"

"Sure, e-girl."

"Take that back!" How the words explode out of his headphones makes him momentarily worry he might've overstepped but by the way your laughter chases it forward, he knows he hasn't. You can take it just as well as you can dish it.

"Okay, okay. You're a not bad healer." Because he hasn't died yet and last he checked, neither had your tanks. Genji had once or twice - to be expected, given his playstyle - and you had, but that was still pretty respectable.

He can practically hear you rolling your eyes. "Oh, thanks."

"Any time, BigMelon."

"That's ‘daebak’ to you, pal." Had he heard you wrong?

"What'd you say?"

There's a long pause - he's not sure whether it's for comedic purpose or something else. You sound muffled on the other end, as if you're repressing sound. "Because watermelon? Su-bak? So big melon is dae-bak?" Whatever you had stifled earlier disappears, torn away by the pride that shines bright yellow and boisterous in your peals of laughter.

It's such a bad joke that Jungkook feels like he's about to have an aneurysm. Were you Jin moonlighting as a Master support player?

"You're kidding me." He wonders if you hear him above your own glee, giggles making it hard for him to hear himself think. "What're you - a dad?"

You scoff now, parroting his words back to him. "What're you - the pun police?"

Another one?

He briefly considers ALT + F4-ing his way out of this match and away from your corniness. Considers it but ultimately decides against it, instead remaining stoically silent and choosing McCree when the hero selection screen slides into place. His silence will surely speak volumes.

"You know that was funny!" By the way he can practically hear your pout - it's endearing, much to his chagrin - he thinks you know where he stands.

"Not the word I'd use."

"You just have bad taste, McCree." You say it scathingly yet full of mirth, a sniff punctuating the end of your rebuttal.

"Do not!" He returns, just as quickly.

"Prove it. Laugh at my joke!" You're shameless, confident, reassured - it makes him chuckle.

You take it as his surrender though, your own laughter blending seamlessly with his. It goes on for longer than is strictly speaking necessary, crowding like cotton balls in his ears as you leave sprays of your hero - Ana this time - across the spawn walls. He wrecks every one of yours with his own, BAMF displayed in 1440p.

"Hey - stop that!" It doesn't matter that the round is about to start - you're spamming your melee button into him. He immediately does it back, toggling between that and his voice line.

The rest of your team is probably wondering what the hell you're both doing.

"Stop distracting me!" He barks into his mic, deep dimples on full display, nose scrunched adorably. He doesn't really mind - it's clear by his hyena cackles that follow - and he likes when your chorus of shut up's pitch and leap with your giggling.

As he navigates McCree out behind your tanks, he can't help but wish - maybe a little selfishly - that they'll lose this round and go into a best of three. When the opposing team's healers both die - one to Ashe's dynamite and the other to Zarya's high-charged beam - he knows that's not going to happen. Your team's going to cap point and then you're going to be gone - off to the next game and never to be matched with again.

"We did it, McCree." You sound deeply pleased as the last of the defenders fall, leaving point uncontested. The Lucio on your team lingers by the choke, ready to boop any last minute hoodlums; Echo hovers just above the enemy’s spawn, dealing damage the moment any hero comes in view. One of your tanks is already emoting.

VICTORY flashes across his screen.

"We sure did, BigMelon."

The cards come next - they're all for your team, though he isn't surprised. You'd gotten 37 defensive assists whereas he had 27% Infra-Sight uptime. He's sure you both vote for each other, the remaining four going to your other support's Sound Barrier casts.

"Thanks for the carry." He doesn't mean it facetiously. This is some of the most fun he's had in-game in ages.

"You're welcome," you chirp. He thinks you'll leave right after.

Instead, you both sit in voice chat in silence, watching the timer in the upper right-hand corner.

"Do you want to duo?" You ask in the same instance he does, breaking the both of you into a fit of laughter. It's more distracting than he realizes, the FINDING MATCH countdown replacing the end game statistics while you’re both still cackling.

Luckily, you invite him to a group right as he removes himself from queue.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Tuesday, 24 December, 2019. 11 PM.

It’s six weeks and a good three dozen games later - a feat for him, considering how much of his time is eaten up by literally every other obligation he has - when he asks for your name, not realizing the consequences of his action.

“Most people call me Jinny.” He thinks it fits you, bright and pretty and punchy. “What’s your name?”

Jungkook's unprepared for the question, though he shouldn’t be. Of course you’d want to know. Anyone would, if they’d already given their own answer.

He's silent for the longest time, quiet stretching on and on over group voice chat. He applauds you for your patience, how you don't press him on it when the hesitation has descended from appropriate to downright awkward.

"Uh." The word drops like a weight, crashing through the tentative friendship you've built over the past weeks.

"You don't have to tell me," you supply as softly as he's ever heard you. It's the first time you've seemed uncertain - and it bothers him that he's the reason. "I get that we haven't known each other that long."

As if that's actually the issue. He would've told you the night you spent four hours together, taking wins left and right, filling the time in between matches with silly banter that had his jaw aching from laughter. He would’ve told you on that random Thursday, when you’d listened to him talk about his busy day, effortlessly keeping him occupied - and amused - while your SR nearly descended below 3500. He would’ve even told you yesterday, when you’d said you were going to bed, only to be roped into another six games by Jungkook’s eagerness.

It has absolutely nothing to do with time - or the lack thereof.

But he can't say that - can't tell you who he really is - so he improvises as best he can. "My friends call me Jay."

"Jay, huh?" You turn the sound over on your tongue, like you're tasting it for the first time, trying to decide whether you love it or hate it. He hopes you don’t hate it. "Then I guess we're the best J-duo to ever exist."

"Woah, we?" He's only doing it to rile you up, finding it cute when you huff and puff and threaten to let him die in-game. You never make good on the threat anyway; you just like to see him sweat, watching as his health bar drops to measly single digits. "I don't think I agreed to that."

It's your turn to mock him, that same edge turning your words into sour candy. "Fine. You can find yourself a new healer. We'll see how your SR likes that, Bronzie boy!"

Neither of you really take the game that seriously but he gasps like he's been shot.

"No! Don't leave me with them!" The way he howls the plea is enough to return you both to your rightful place - one filled with boisterous laughter and things he never thought would see the light of day.

Because somehow, he's found somewhere he feels safe - a place he feels like himself, with no pretenses or expectations. It’s where he can rant and rave, bouncing from topic to topic like an energizer bunny with no end in sight. It’s, oddly enough, with you.

Connected through voice chat and built by an endless stream of communication - sometimes productive, other times not - the space you’ve carved out together has come to feel like a third home. It isn’t quite what he has with his family or his members but it’s just as nice.

Different, but nice.

"Fine. You're forgiven." You sniff in that peculiar way of yours and he snickers loudly. "How was your day?"

And this is why it is - because it's ordinary. It’s where Jungkook can rest his head and drift for a while without worry of what’s over the horizon, ready to swallow him whole the moment he takes his eyes off the calm blue sea. He's not raised on a pedestal with you, all the weight of his choices resting on his shoulders. He's just a normal guy playing games.

It might not make up for all the years of normalcy he's missed out on - the movies after school, the street markets on weekends, the holiday parties with classmates - but it's enough.

He eats it up like he's been starved of it.

"Busy. Really busy. I had dance practice all afternoon and forgot to eat so I'm dying now." There'd been a time - about three weeks in - when he'd chosen his words more carefully. He'd been worried he might let something slip but he's found what feels like the sweet spot now, where he can tell you about his day without thinking he’ll suddenly shatter the image you have of him.

It's not always easy - he has to remember to never mention names or intimate details - but it's better than nothing. He can finally tell someone about his day like he wants - all of the good and the bad, too.

"You should make something to eat!"

He's used to your reprimands but he still laughs, crossing his long legs beneath him as he readjusts in his computer chair. "But we're in queue."

"Jay!" It comes out devoid of static, clear as the waning sunshine that filters through his blinds and reflects particles of dust that drift lazily through his bedroom.

"I'll make something after we win." He knows what you're thinking - that he's gone and jinxed your whole night. You’re weirdly superstitious, something he's learned only recently.

As if right on cue: "Shut up!"

Your words sweep his expression up with glee and giddiness, like a kid on Christmas morning; lines dig themselves into the bridge of his nose and the delicate skin beneath his eyes. Jungkook tells himself it’s the usual pre-game jitters but he knows it’s more than that.

It’s you and that infectious giggle that careens through his headphones, making him see everything in a pretty haze of warmth.

He’s not sure when you’d started having this particular effect on him - maybe since the beginning? - but he feels it now, clearer than ever. Every tinkling laugh makes his heart speed up, thump around his chest like a baseball missing its mark. The sight of you logging in elicits the biggest, possibly dorkiest smile, all slightly too-big front teeth and deep dimples. You have him rushing through his post-practice showers and devouring dinner in half the time he usually would just to get online a minute more quickly.

There's just something about you.

And sure - a part of him wonders whether it's all in his head (as if it could be anywhere else). Wonders if he's seeing you through rose-tinted glasses, doing to you what so many do to him. Was he in over his head, praying to a deity that didn't even know he existed?

Sometimes it felt that way - a little out of reach, like childhood crushes and summer love and wishing upon a star. Certainly far too much for a blossoming friendship of just a month and a half.

But then you laugh and it's Pop Rocks fizzling in his stomach and he knows that no - it's there and it's real.

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

notes. i love overwatch and i love jeon jeongguk. what more can i say? :)

1K notes · View notes

emberstoriesandtales · 3 years

Text

Past to Present (Abraham Alastor x Present!Fem!Reader)

Y/N felt chills as she walked around the ruined house.

The others decided to rest for a bit while Y/N wanted to look around.

As she entered what looks like a dining room, she saw the little girl the group have been seeing all night.

Knowing that she was leading her to where she has to go, Y/N followed her up the stairs.

As she reached the top step, she saw the little girl walk into one of the rooms down the hall.

"Hey, little girl?" She called out.

She walked to the room where the girl went in and entered.

She noticed that it use to be a bedroom.

'Dennis and Anthony's old bedroom before the fire happened.' She thought, remembering seeing articles about the fire along with the information about the family.

Taking her first step into the room, she frowned when she heard a crunching sound.

Y/N looked down to see a broken vinyl record.

"Hey bigfoot, mind the goddamn vinyl will ya?!" Daniel's voice echoed.

'Dennis.' Y/N thought.

Then a hand grabbed Y/N by the wrist and pulled her forward.

She stumbled a bit, arms wrapped around her waist.

Y/N looked up to see Abraham looking down at her with a soft smile.

"Good to see you again." He said helping Y/N up.

Mary then grabbed her hand.

"He knows I was about to confess all to the Judge." She said, fear across her face.

"Will you protect me?" She asked, shaking.

Y/N held Mary's hand, a determined look on her face.

"Of course. I know you aren't the one behind all this." Y/N said, which made Mary smile.

"I assure all gathered here today that our town will be free of the Devil's grasp." Carver started.

Y/N noticed that the man had Mary's doll.

He was trying to condemn her.

But Y/N knew she had enough evidence to reveal Carver.

"Together by God's Grace Little Hope will prevail. My word on it!"

That made Y/N scoff.

"Yeah, but without you." She muttered.

She then saw Judge Wyman walk towards Carver.

"This court is hastily convened but with good reason. If we are to finally rid ourselves of the evil which has infested Little Hope, then we must act today."

Wyman then looked up at Mary and pointed at her.

"I accuse you, Mary, of witchcraft! What say you Reverend?" He asked turning to Carver.

"The evidence, as discovered through my investigation, is beyond question."

He then held the doll out to show everyone.

"Mary uses her poppet as a familiar to summon and serve the Devil!"

Wyman nodded in agreement.

"We have been deceived by a child, by her guise of innocence. This poppet, was mistakenly used to denounce Tabitha. But it has always belonged to Mary, and Mary alone." He said giving Mary an angry look.

"She allowed her own kin to be executed as she watched in silence."

"That is not so! Liar!" Mary said as Y/N noticed tears rolling down her face.

Carver glared at her.

"Now this tainted child, this creature of Satan has the marrow to accuse me, a man of God, of wrongdoing!"

Abraham watched as Y/N rubbed Mary's shoulder, to try to comfort her.

"Wait!" He said, interrupting the court.

"I beg the court's indulgence." He then turned to Y/N.

"Please guide me at this time, I seek your council." He said gently grabbing her hand.

"We have to stop this. The only madness is right here in this court."

Y/N then pointed at Carver.

"Carver, he's the evil one."

Abraham frowned, then nodded.

"We have been swayed by malice. The truth hidden from us, but not by Mary."

Abraham then pointed at Carver, glaring at him with anger.

"Reverend Carver is the one urging us to believe in The Devil."

The reverend glared back at the puritan who was accusing him.

"Be silent! You will not deceive us any longer. Your true purpose is plain to see. I will see this town purged of all evil!"

Abraham turned to Y/N again.

"What must I do to bring Little Hope back into the light?" He asked, fear spread across his face.

"I fear the Reverend and what he is capable of."

Y/N looked down at Carver and spotted his bible.

She remembered seeing it at the museum with Daniel and Taylor.

The symbols inside of it.

She smiled.

There was proof to get Carver condemned.

"You have to stop Carver! It's him don't you get it? He's condemning Mary to take the heat off himself. His bible has symbols in it. He joined the occult after his wife was taken from him." She explained.

Abraham sighed in relief, happy to hear that there was proof that Carver was in fact, the one behind this all.

"I know what must be done here." He said before walking to the stairs to confront Carver and Wyman.

"Be still! What is the meaning of this outrage?" Carver asked as Abraham walked to Wyman.

As Abraham told Wyman the truth, Y/N noticed the Judge's face twist to a look of pure anger.

He then turned to Carver.

"What I have just learned sickens me to my core. There are serious questions which must be asked of you!" he said snatching the bible out of Carver's hands.

When Wyman opened it to the pages with the symbols, he looked back up to the reverend with disgust.

"How can a 'man of God' conduct himself in such a way?" He then turned to look up at Mary, who still had tears falling down from her eyes.

"Mary, your suffering is at an end. You are free to leave."

Mary smiled when she heard that.

Carver's face turned to one of hatred as he looked at the judge.

"Fools! Mislead by a child!" He shouted throwing the doll to the ground.

"Do you not see what she is? The truth stares at you from the depths of hell and yet you see nothing?" he said looking at everyone who was now against him.

"The devil's daughter has deceived you all! Not me!"

He looked at Wyman again.

"I see her! I see her! Satan's whore!"

Y/N covered Mary's ears so she wouldn't have to hear anymore horrible things that Carver was calling her.

"You will pay heavily for your crimes! I was one of the first to fall under your spell. Now all of Little Hope is mesmerized by you!" He continued to shout as Wyman and Isaac dragged him out of the courtroom.

Mary turned to Y/N, a big smile on her face.

"I have not the words. Without you, I would be dead." She then wrapped her arms around Y/N's waist in a hug.

"You saved me, I shall remember you all my days."

Y/N knelt down to Mary and hugged her back.

"I couldn't let you be killed." She said rubbing her back.

She then noticed Abraham looking at the two with a smile.

Even though they only saw each other a few times, it was still long enough to know that he started to have feelings for the teen.

And seeing that she cared for Mary, it hurt him that he and Mary would never see her again.

"I'm going to miss you two." She said pulling away from the hug.

Abraham walked over and gave her a kind smile.

"And we will miss you Y/N." he said kissing her softly on her lips before she faded away back to her time.

Abraham pulled Mary into a hug as she cried.

"You can go with her if you want."

The two turned to see a man wearing a suit with a long coat.

His icy blue eyes stared straight into Abraham's as he looked at him confused.

"Who are you?" the puritan asked as he stood in front of Mary protectively.

"I go by many names, but you can call me the Curator." He said giving Abraham and Mary a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been about a few months since the group has escaped Little Hope and became closer together as a family.

Y/N sighed as she finished painting the portrait of Abraham and Mary.

She missed them so much.

"I wish I could have gotten to stay with you both." She said as she set the paintbrush down.

That's when she heard a knock on the door.

"Be right there!" She called out as she stood up and hurried to the door.

When she opened it, she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Y/N!" Mary said wrapping her arms around her waist in a hug.

The little girl was wearing a pair of pants with butterflies on them, a pink shirt with some flowers on it, a blue jacket, and a pair of blue shoes.

Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

She looked up at Abraham and felt her heart skip a beat.

He was wearing a pair of dress pants, a pair of dark brown dress shoes, a white dress shirt under a red sweater, and a tan jacket.

His hair was still the same as when she last saw him back in 1692.

"Abraham... Is it really you?" she asked gently laying her hand on the side of his face.

He laid his hand over hers.

"Yes, it's me." He said before wrapping his arms around her and Mary.

"How are you here?" She asked as she started to cry, tears of joy.

"This man, he called himself the Curator. He gave us the chance to live in the present with you." Abraham said as Mary looked up at Y/N.

"Are you happy to see us Y/N?" She asked excitedly.

Y/N nodded.

"Yes I am, I missed you both a lot." She said before kissing Abraham.

She was happy to have them in her life again.

Taglist:

@seldomabsent @mrsfullbuster500 @foggyturtleknightangel @thefanficmonster @dark-pictures-until-dawn @sparrow-gg

#dark pictures anthology #little hope #abraham alastor #abraham alastor x reader #little hope abraham #little hope abraham alastor #mary milton #little hope mary milton #dark pictures anthology little hope

33 notes · View notes

orangelightsabers · 3 years

Text

Vampires - part one

A gift to my favorite gg writer on here @bbygirldahyun (although I am tagging you from a different account of mine :D)

•••

Vampires.

These legendary creatures of the night that the tour guide keeps droning on about are vampires.

Dahyun sighed, shaking her head.

Leave it up to Chaeyoung to suggest for her to do a tour in an old castle and listen to an old man babble on about vampires.

He was very into the subject too, gesturing wildly with his hands but his voice was monotone and not once did he give a name to the creatures that anyone could identify by his stories and words alone. The look on his face was solemn, almost as if he believed the stories to be true.

It was at one of the last exhibits that he paused, face sweeping over the crowd as he swallowed.

“Legend has it that these creatures appeared centuries ago. Beautiful with pale skin and glowing red eyes, they drew people in, only for them to attack, turning against the townspeople that worshipped them. Their most famous supposed victim,” the tour guide turned and gestured to the portrait on his left, “was the princess of the kingdom.”

Dahyun’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the portrait. A beautiful woman, around her age, faced the crowd of tourists from inside the portrait, her beauty forever preserved through the use of paint. Her long brown hair flowed down her back and her dark eyes seemed to bore into Dahyun’s own, the painter even managing to capture the sparkle of mischievousness in its muse’s eyes. Her head was tilted to the side, the corner of her lip curling up into a small smirk.

She was beautiful and regal, Dahyun mused to herself in awe, looking every bit like the princess that she was said to be. Yet, there was something more about the portrait. The princess stood stiffly, shoulders held high and back with her hands intertwined in front of her. She looked almost...cautious.

Afraid, Dahyun amended as she followed the tour guide to the next exhibit, she was afraid…but of what?

Or rather, Dahyun mused silently, feeling as if the princess’s eyes were following her as the tour guide droned on, of who?

***

“There’s a second tour, you know?”

Dahyun jumped, hand clutching her chest as a startled squeak left her throat. She spun around, eyes meeting the man that stood behind her.

It was the tour guide, an apologetic smile on his face. Up close, he looked less solemn and more tired, his face aged and his hair greying.

Dahyun blinked, his words registering.

“Another tour?” she asked, brows furrowing.

The man caught sight of her hesitant face and quickly reassured her, “yes, but this one is free.”

Dahyun was tempted to take his offer but…there was something about his face though—the same look she had seen in his eyes when talking about the princess: terror.

He’s terrified but trying to hide it. He looks almost as if he was begging Dahyun to agree to take the other tour.

Already, Dahyun could hear the other tourists talking excitedly about the next tour and how it was known to be legendary, tempting Dahyun to accept his offer.

Yet...Dahyun hesitated.

Her mind went back to the princess’s portrait and how afraid the princess seemed that day.

What had happened to her, Dahyun wondered as she stared at the tour guide’s weary eyes, and why did the tour guide look at her portrait with so much terror?

Dahyun shivered, her hair on her arms standing up straight, as she caught sight of the man’s silent plea.

Something was wrong.

Dahyun licked her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she lied, “but I have somewhere to be.”

Before the man could stop her, she turned on her heels and fled out the entrance, oak doors crashing shut behind her.

***

The woods surrounding the castle are silent.

The cold air nips at Dahyun’s body as she shivers, pulling her jacket closer around her body.

The tour bus she came on was nowhere in sight and an eerily silence washes over her.

She didn’t notice it before when she first arrived, but there were no creatures in the woods—no chirping of birds or scurrying of woodland creatures or even crickets chirping and making noise.

Just—dead silence.

It’s unnerving.

Dahyun walks slowly down the path that the van took to arrive at the castle, her hands fisted in her jacket and her eyes staring straight ahead.

She didn’t think that it took that long for them to reach the castle from the city, and—if nothing else—maybe there would be a payphone somewhere nearby so Dahyun could call Chaeyoung to pick her up. It was the least her roommate owed her for sending her to this creepy castle.

She sighed softly at the thought. She was supposed to be back to their apartment soon. Hopefully, Chaeyoung wouldn’t be too worried. Dahyun didn’t like the idea of her best friend blaming herself for what Dahyun is going through.

All she had to do was get to the nearest town and find a payphone. Dahyun nodded her head to herself. The plan sounded pretty good.

Another shiver ran down her spine.

As long as she didn’t freeze, that is, she amended to herself, grumpily, a pout forming on her face.

So lost in thought she didn’t even notice the person echoing her movements down the road deep inside the woods, the red-eyed figure matching her step for step.

***

There’s a fork in the road.

There’s a fork in the road and Dahyun can’t even recall which turn the van had taken to get to the castle.

She paused in front of the two roads, brain helplessly trying to recall the path taken.

Left or right?

Left?

No….

Right?

Maybe…

She sighed helplessly.

“Hello.”

Dahyun jumped, a scream making it out of her throat as she spun around.

A figure of a person stood there, just barely a step out of the woods. Shadows covered their face, concealing their identity and gender.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” the figure spoke up politely, a hint of regret in their voice.

The voice was smooth and strong, the person’s accent sounding almost posh and proper—the voice sounding like what Dahyun would imagine someone from royalty would speak like.

“I-it’s okay,” Dahyun stumbled for her words, chewing her bottom lip.

She felt uncomfortable...unsafe under the eyes that stared at her.

What would a random stranger be doing in the middle of the woods?

“But still, I sincerely apologize. I was,” the person paused, their voice hesitant, “uncertain of how to approach you. I should have been more careful.”

Maybe it was just Dahyun but she could hear a hint of regret in the person’s voice. Yet, even then, she couldn’t shake the person’s words.

The person in front of her had been following her.

Dahyun shivered at the thought.

The figure flinched.

“Not many people take this road, not unless they come to tour the castle. Tours are rare though, once every blue moon, I believe the saying is?” the person mused.

Dahyun didn’t know that tours weren’t common. She had frankly believed them to be a regular occurrence, especially with how eagerly Chaeyoung had been when convincing her to do it. Dahyun internally sighed, of course Chaeyoung would send her to a strange castle for talk of vampires while knowing that the tour is barely done at all.

Dahyun spoke carefully, “I went on a tour but,” she paused trying to say her next words correctly, “I was offered a second tour. My roommate is expecting me tonight and she’ll be worried so I left.”

The figure hummed, “I can show you the way back to the city.”

Dahyun hesitated at the offer. She didn’t know this person. For all she knew, this person would murder her and dump her body in the woods.

Yet, did Dahyun have any choice?

Would she rather try to guess the way herself and get lost or accept the offer of this stranger and maybe find her way back home?

She didn’t really have any choice.

“Yes, please,” she whispered, her voice shy and croaky.

The figure stepped forward into the light and Dahyun stepped back, wide-eyed as a gasp left her throat.

The princess from the portrait stood in front of her in the flesh, except this time the princess wore clothes from this century rather than the dress she wore in the portrait—black slacks with a white button-up shirt.

She looked even more beautiful in person, pale skin surrounding what looked to Dahyun to be a perfect face.

The biggest difference, however, was her hair, now short and floppy, bangs laying on her forehead and almost covering her red eyes as she tilted her head to stare at Dahyun.

“My name is Mina,” the princess said smoothly, reaching out her hand for a handshake, “what is your name?”

Dahyun hesitated but took her hand, internally flinching at the icy temperature her hand met.

“Dahyun. I’m Dahyun,” she whispered nervously.

A smirk crossed Mina’s face.

“Nice to meet you, Dahyun.”

#mihyun

17 notes · View notes

caltropspress · 4 years

Text

Notes on Pink Siifu’s NEGRO

You and anybody else who wants to get their random vicarious kicks off White Power can stay the fuck away from me.

—Lester Bangs

Tell a nazi he can suck my dick. —Pink Siifu, from “SMD”

My first contact with white america was marked by her violence, for when a white doctor pulled me from between my mother’s legs and slapped my wet ass, I, as every other negro in america, reacted to this man-inflicted pain with a cry. A cry that america has never allowed to cease; a cry that gets louder and more intense with age….A cry? Or was it a scream? —H. Rap Brown (Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin), from Die Nigger Die!

it is the hour of conflict, antagonism, struggle the world turning autumn in warpaint everything silently prepares to scream —Amiri Baraka, from “Disorder”

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. To that end, white institutional power bestows awards on singular figures when it’s convenient. Let’s call one such example Kendrick Lamar. Pulitzer Prizing DAMN. is white institutional power taking cover. This, in no way, defangs DAMN. But it does provide crowd control. Pink Siifu, meanwhile, won’t be awarded a Pulitzer for NEGRO. If he did, I’m confident he’d pull an Adrienne Rich, telling President Clinton to choke on his National Medal for the Arts, seeing as how the U.S. gov’t drives “the demonization of our young Black men.” Siifu would be PE boycotting the Grammys on the grounds of Black invisibility. Or John Lennon relinquishing his membership in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire because, well, empire (see: Biafra).

NEGRO is what happens when Three 6 Mafia goes full bandolier, full decolonization, full Thomas Sankara. When the emphasis is on the 666 sirening[1] across white cop foreheads, reflecting off Makrolon face shields. Siifu cites and channels Sun Ra, June Tyson, Death, and Bad Brains, but you also hear the mass hysteria of Abbey Lincoln’s vocal cords trembling, of Max Roach’s We Insist! in a street brawl showdown with the LRAD. Basically, it’s Ornette blowing sax in a riot, harmolodics like incendiary devices.

“FK” is the primal scream reaction of hearing the news another one of your people has been killed, snuffed out. Suffer through our screams, it says to the listener. And “out of body, out of mind” distorts what we see with what we witness. It’s the re-played, re-tweeted, re-shared visuals of Black death.

At moments, NEGRO sounds like Aaron Dilloway organizing a chapter of the White Panther Party.

Siifu’s lyrics are a Stokely speech draft. His artistry is prismatic, shattered pane glass: crust punk, jazz cat, marching band drummer, hood ballerina, noisemaker, bareknuckle emcee. His lyrics should be run off on the mimeo and saddle-stitched into a chapbook for Totem Press to publish.

“SMD” samples from Ivan Dixon's 1973 film The Spook Who Sat by the Door (“Do you hear me, man?...I am BLACK!”). Just like dead prez sampled the dialogue before Siifu on “We Want Freedom.” Siifu and dead prez are bedfellows, for sure, but Siifu's head rests on a pillow of static. It’s the friction that electrifies.

NEGRO is the art of de-arresting in audio form. As the comrades at Mask Magazine have stated, de-arrests “are beautiful,” reminding us “the law and the state are not supernatural forces.”[2]

I’ve always felt uncomfortable using the word freedom. It’s a word that’s been co-opted and gutted to the point of parody. I subscribe only to a different form of freedom, one articulated in noise. Suicidal Tendencies’ “Freedumb” cuts it: “Peace through politics is a fallacy—that doesn’t exist.” Liberation more seriously expresses the extinction agenda. Poor Righteous Teachers taught the curriculum out of Trenton, on “Freedom of Death”: “Consciousness—it’s a must / Just avoid the wicked, wicked ways of this pale Caucasoid.”

Regardless, we see freedom, liberation, knife through even with Siifu’s orthography. Revolutionary thought requires revolutionary language. Ask the Combahee River Collective. Come correct. Fuck autocorrect. Remember womyn. Siifu spellings like: nxggas, eye, tyme, iono, and the evergreen ameriKKKa. The abbreviated words—eliding letters wherever possible—don’t reflect self-censorship so much as the mindmaze of a harried man. Deliberate typos demonstrate no faith in the system. It’s like if Bon Iver (see: “22 (OVER S∞∞N)”) decided to forgo BLM symbolic gestures (Mahalia Jackson) and straight-up encouraged looting. Siifu is CAPS LOCK happy, too. We’re witnessing the joy of militancy.

To begin with, it must be said that former African slaves and their ancestors have been the avant-garde of everything in this country. There’s no culture in America, in this American wasteland, without us. There’s no classical music; there’s jazz, and that was invented by us. And besides that, America has nothing to offer the world and it never has. —Idris Robinson, from “How It Might Should Be Done”

Siifu in the audience of the Congress of Afrikan Peoples, and Baraka imploring him like, “Get up, Pink Siifu.” It’s nation time. But on “Nation Tyme.,” Siifu groans, I’m tired…can’t fall…asleep. Black rage, of course—but what of Black insomnia? The French revolutionaries abolished the calendar. CPT, so, is rightly weaponized. “I feel fettered by Western time,” Gregory Pardlo writes in “Colored People’s Time.” Punch clocks need punching, smashing. I saw Baraka roll up to a conference panel late as fuck once, cane-walking right down the center aisle, shameless, commandingly.

In a somnolent slur, Siifu says, “They treat me like I’m wasting away / I know I’m worth more than they pay.” What of these capitalist definitions of work? What of productivity? What does it mean to monetize every waking moment? He’s been quoted as saying, “I ain’t have to work for no white man.”[3] “Nation Tyme.” picks up there.

10. Feel like deadmeat. They say I’m deadmeat.

“DEADMEAT” is a pig siren stuffed into an industrial-grade slaughterhouse grinder. It sounds the way Alan Vega's sculptures look—hazardous masses of electronic junk, like wires raveled inside a homemade bomb, like buzzing viscera.

I want to see Siifu perform it at the Meat Locker, a cellar club in the underguts of Montclair, New Jersey (s/o the dramacydal Outlawz). The place is dingy and bedecked with feces—a venue befitting a GG Allin opener. GG Allin, a racist, who also hated cops. Who, on “Shove That Warrant Up Your Ass,” a track that appeared on the posthumous Brutality & Bloodshed For All album, sang, “You say I broke the laws in your state… / Your courts and cops should all be hung.” Allin hoists a headless, legless, armless torso on his hip in the cover photograph—a slab of meat. Like the Beatles with baby doll parts and prime cuts in their laps, bloodless butcher coats on the original Yesterday and Today (1966) artwork. Like the papal kill floor in Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” (1954) with its tapestry of offal. But what you don’t get from Bacon, or the Beatles, or GG Allin is what Siifu needs us to hear. What Siifu tells us is the reality of corporeality is that cops continue to make carcasses of Black people.

11.

That cellar club can be scream therapy, can be cell therapy. Siifu brings us there—to the darkest, dampest corner of the Dungeon Family’s dungeon. Big Gipp, speaking self-defensively: “Try to separate me from the blood / Is disrespect like you coming in my home and not wiping your feet on the rug.” It’s echoed in Siifu addressing the question of his audience: “This [album] is for black people, but I know white people are going to fuck with it. I’m mad cool with that. I just want everyone to know, before they come through the door, that this is a black house and you have to respect my people.”[4] The theme of respect as it relates to a sense of home, to cultural tourism, is paramount in both. Everyone’s got to know their place. No listener should approach ignorant of the auction block. Siifu’s noise refuses the separation of kinsfolk and his stubbornness makes the dungeon shake—he is rightfully “tough, dark, vulnerable, moody,” and, on NEGRO, he has a “definite tendency to sound truculent.”[5]

12.

“ON FIRE, PRAY!” eventually grinds the brakes to a cavernous slowjam pace. “Blood on my body / Blood on my face.”

13.

The racist dog policemen must withdraw immediately from our communities, cease their wanton murder and brutality and torture of black people, or face the wrath of the armed people. —caption on Huey Newton photograph

NEGRO’s album cover, painted by Junkyard, is a call-and-response. Pink Siifu is a portrait of exhaustion, slouched, shirtless like Huey was when he was released from the Alameda County courthouse in 1970. It’s a tableau like Huey in that rattan peacock chair was. Eldridge Cleaver orchestrated it, right down to the zebra rug.

If you squint, the glimmer of Siifu’s gold fronts looks like his jaw is wired shut. Of course, violent threats are routinely directed at Black people—that's how the system operates. Media is often behind the scope. Relentless orders to “shut up,” to silence yourself, police yourself. We know this from David Wojnarowicz, photographed with his lips sewn shut, blood dripping like shadows, in “(Silence = Death)” from 1989. The violent threats on queer life are kin to those on Black life. But Siifu, like Wojnarowicz, refuses the censorship. After all, those aren't wires—they're the glint of his grill. Siifu is dribbling blood, too, and those black splatters across the flag are like pen bursts—ink poisoning for all. If you squint, the mind’s eye might see the Pan-African flag.

The flag above his head recalls Jasper Johns’ flags: elliptical, non-patriotic, made slop-bucket sloppy from newspaper shreddings and other detritus, i.e. amerikkka is a trash heap. At least the stars are black in the “Flag (Moratorium)” rendition. Bullet hole dead center, too.

If all goes well, the riots going on—bless them—will go on interminably. Sly Stone’s customized flag with black in place of blue[6] and sharp solar-flared suns in place of Betsy Ross geometric stars is yet another parallel to Siifu’s flag. Like Sly, Siifu isn’t opposed to police ambushes. They both know you’ve got to grin at the gun of the devil. (“Don’t you mind people grinnin’ in your face,” Son House sings eternally.) Citizen takes on cop on “Thank You For Talkin’ To Me, Africa”: Bullets start chasin’, / I begin to stop. / We begin to tussle. / I was on the top. Just the same as Siifu on “SMD”: “Iono why eye ain’t shot ya.” Or on “run pig run.”: “Kill a cop / Left a pig dead.”

14.

We can't disparage any aggressive protest on the reductive grounds it's aggro or violent. I think of Pam Echols in Milwaukee in 1968. Siifu’s assertion of you are my enemy on “steal from the ENEMY” corresponds with Paris’s sophomore and shadowy album, Sleeping with the Enemy. Like on the corrode-ode “Coffee, Donuts, and Death”:

You get poached when you fuck with black folk. Said it ’til my voice was hoarse. I ain’t down with excessive force, But of course I wasn’t heard so I’m silent now. Black folk can’t be non-violent now. […] The only motherfucking pig that I eat is police.

Which is to say, try no pork, ameriKKKa.

15. RE: punk

Think of Bad Brains playing CBGB’s in 1982. Lester Bangs writes of a woman in the scene who referred to Black people as “all these boons.” He tells us a Black friend of his believes the clubgoers “[strive] to be offensive however they can.” Anti-Blackness plagued CBGB’s and nascent punk like vermin, a pestilence. A white woman in the music business claims she “liked [Black people] so much better when they were just Negroes.” These anecdotes are culled from Bangs’ 1979 Village Voice piece entitled “The White Noise Supremacists.” He notes Ron Asheton’s predilection for “swastikas, Iron Crosses, and jackboots.” He cites Ivan Julian, guitarist for Richard Hell and the Voidoids—one of the few Black individuals to grace those inchoate punk stages—as saying “whenever he hears the word ‘n-----’…he wants to kill.” He calls Nico a “dumb kraut cunt” for her brazen, Third Reich-ish brand of racism, which was no industry secret. Bangs even implicates himself, quoting an earlier article: “…it’s the n-----s who control and direct everything just as it always has been and properly should be.” He meant this, somehow, as a compliment.

16.

On “we need mo color. Abundance,” there’s no innocence left in asking “tell me your favorite color.” Siifu answers rhetorically, parenthetically, melanin. Don't settle for forty acres of color—demand abundance. Take, loot in abundance. And don't be contained by the gendered parameters of “pink or blue.” “You can have any color you like” suggests the limitless possibilities if you move your mind beyond the imposed parameters.

The “favorite color” invoked on “we need mo color. Abundance” becomes abundantly clear on the following track, “BLACK!”

17.

“ameriKKKa, try no pork” starts in a slurry of radio static, news reports of Black death. Black, Black, Black, Black. Sped up. Slowed down. Drag the progress bar. “Progress,” ha.

18.

“run pig run.” See the pig / Run away / Run, pig, run. Like a Dick and Jane basal reader. Like picking your favorite color. Like a Three Little Pigs fable. Like huffing and puffing. These are childhood exploits for childhoods that aren’t allowed to be. As long as the Kenneth and Mamie Clark doll experiments keep providing the proof, there can be no childhood innocence. So it's a carnival game in the meantime: See a pig / Shoot a pig. Huffing and puffing: Run, pig, run.

19.

"myheartHURT" is the safehouse after the shooting. It's the cooldown, the chillout. The hypnagogic nightmare. It's vaporwave minus whiteness. We all know Biz had the vapors before Daniel Lopatin. As if DJ Screw was just an apparition, a codeine cloud. The fact remains, Screw's phantasmagoria hovers above all our heads.

20.

The wail of distorted police sirens introduces “Chris Dorner.,” a track gleefully indebted to Ice-T and Body Count’s “Cop Killer.” Repetition was a popular device and it still is: die, pig, die. Chris Dorner has achieved folk-hero status in anarchist circles and beyond since he waged asymmetrical warfare on the LAPD. His manifesto has been published as a zine.[7] “No one grows up and wants to be a cop killer,” he wrote. Begs the question.

21.

“faceless wings,BLACK!” nods to Frank Castle[8], a figure who may or may not be recoverable from militias and thin blue liners, despite Gerry Conway’s best efforts.

22.

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. Pink Siifu, through NEGRO, refuses suppression and negation. Siifu delivers a hole in the head, and it’s sublime.

Footnotes:

1 “The Law comes sirening across the town.” Gwendolyn Brooks, “THE THIRD SERMON OF THE WARPLAND” from RIOT

2 “De-Arrests are Beautiful.” Mask Magazine.

3 “The Necessity of Pink Siifu’s Rage.” Marcus J. Moore. The Fader.

4 “Pink Siifu’s ‘NEGRO’ is a Riotous Mix of Jazz, Rap and Punk.” Max Bell. Bandcamp Daily.

5 Baldwin, the god.

6 “What did I do to be so black and blue?” (see: Armstrong); light a reefer and listen to the phonograph (see: Ellison)

7 Research and Destroy New York City. https://researchdestroy.com/

8 https://archive.org/details/PunisherPigs

Images:

Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Makrolon face shield, Google Image Search result | Amiri Baraka performing at the Congress of Afrikan Peoples (screenshot) | Alan Vega light sculpture (photograph) | GG Allin Brutality & Bloodshed for All album cover | The Beatles Yesterday & Today album cover | Francis Bacon, “Figure with Meat” (detail) | Goodie Mob “Cell Therapy” (screenshot) | Splitting up a family at auction, Public Domain | Huey Newton Black Panthers Minister of Defense, photographed by Blair Stapp, 1968 | Andreas Sterzing, David Wojnarowicz (Silence = Death), 1989 | Sly and the Family Stone There’s A Riot Goin’ On album cover | Jasper Johns, “Flag (Moratorium)” | Pam Echols punching cop, 1968 (photographer unknown) | Sid Vicious, nazi (photographer unknown) | Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Biz Markie Goin’ Off album cover | Oneohtrix Point Never Memory Vague album cover

6 notes · View notes

betweengenesisfrogs · 7 years

Text

OFF-THE-CUFF HOMESTUCK POSTS #6: THE TRAGEDY (AND SECRET TRIUMPH) OF JADE HARLEY, OR: THE GNOSTIC GARDENER

DISCLAIMER FRAMEWORK

[CHECK THE TAG FOR MORE THOUGHTS]

[Note: Content warning for brief mention of sexual abuse and longer discussion of perceived suicide and associated thoughts.]

Let's talk about Jade Harley.

A common feeling I've seen about the final chapters of Homestuck is that Jade Harley deserved better, that she suffered completely unfairly and arbitrarily in the final timeline.

I actually completely agree. Jade *absolutely* deserved better. Where I disagree is with the argument that Jade's suffering somehow shows Hussie is a bad writer.

I think it's important to recognize that good storytelling isn't always the same thing as happy storytelling. Some stories or parts of stories are *about* suffering. They're tragedy, a form of storytelling I'd define as an examination of a negative set of events: why they took place, why the characters involved couldn't escape them. Done well, this can be as meaningful as any happy ending.

I mean, there's a reason a bunch of Greeks wanted to watch a series of plays about a guy who accidentally marries his mother and then stabs his eyes out.

So when we're talking about good storytelling in Homestuck, i.e.: whether character arcs reach meaningful catharsis, we have to bear in mind that the bad shit that happens to our characters is sometimes the very subject of the story.

In other words, yes, Jade Harley deserved better.

That's the *entire point.*

Now, that said, I actually think Jade does have a happy ending, and a damn cathartic one. But we need to understand the unfair suffering she went through to understand why. What I find fascinating about Jade's arc is that she confronts the tragic, suffering-causing aspects of SBURB and the domain of Lord English more directly than any other character and finds a way to become free of them. It's not that her suffering was in any way merited or right, it's that by rejecting that unfairness, she finds incredible self-affirmation, freedom, and escape in a way that makes her the most direct manifestation of Homestuck's Gnostic themes.

In the causes of her suffering, and in how that suffering is overcome, Jade Harley is the key to the deeper meanings of Homestuck.

The Absent Grandfather

As a person, Jade has suffered unfairly on more than one level. Her later tragedy echoes and recapitulates the tragedies of her childhood, which makes it all the more painful. To understand this suffering, we need to understand her relationship with her guardian, Grandpa Harley.

[A brief digression: at this point, I should probably mention a recent theory by mmmmalo that posits Grandpa Harley as a sexual predator and Jade as a victim of abuse. I feel bad even bringing it up, because mmmmalo seems like a really nice guy, and I really enjoy his work tackling Homestuck from a psychological/psychoanalytical perspective, but I just can't really buy this theory. For one, Grandpa isn't at all characterized as capable of that kind of evil. The closest we come are some dubious feelings about Grandpa from Dave that are clearly him projecting his own issues onto Jade (he's never even met her grandfather), and the odd fact that Grandpa obsessed portraits of beautiful blue women from beauty parlors--discomfiting, but ultimately kind of harmless, unless you really stretch it as a psychological metaphor. To my mind, there really isn't that much to substantiate anything worse here.

Furthermore, the Alpha kids, as ever, offer opportunities to understand the Guardians in more depth, and there's little reason to think Grandpa would be substantially different from Jake English. mmmmalo posits that in DBZ-esque fashion, Jake hitting his head turned him good, but I just don't buy it, especially when Jake's "head injury" isn't actually real--it's one of his excuses for avoiding his own failings. (See the Jane's birthday conversation for how this plays out.) For my money, Jake and Grandpa are pretty similar: nice enough people whose biggest flaw is avoiding responsibility by retreating into the landscape of their own fantasies.

Ultimately, this particular leap is too big a leap for me to take, particularly because I feel like it would need to be addressed on a textual level (like Bro's abuse was with Dirk and Dave) if it was meant to be taken as canonical fact. I feel like mmmmalo's theories are at their strongest when they focus on the psychological experiences of characters, rather than when they try to posit hidden secrets in the canon. The first just feels so much more useful and reliable for me as a method, at least. No shade to mmmmalo, though: I hope he keeps on writing his own brand of fascinating Homestuck analysis for years to come, because he's doing stuff no one else is and it always leads to exciting new approaches.]

Now, none of this is to say that Grandpa Harley never had a negative impact on Jade. Her childhood trauma actually concerns him very deeply. As we see in the scene where she imagines him dictating to her in the foyer, she's both nostalgic about her grandfather and angry with him. She's filled with conflicted feelings about him, positive and negative at once. But the harm comes across in a completely different way, a way that's deeply textually supported and fits with what we know about Jake English.

Jade thinks that her grandfather committed suicide.

At least, she does for the vast majority of her life, until Tavros explains otherwise.

At a whimsical tea party with a plush doll, Grandpa seemingly, from Jade's perspective, took his own life. Here's Jade telling the story: GG: i spent years wondering about it! GG: when i was REALLY young, i was sure the doll sitting across from him did it GG: and for a long time i was terrified of the evil blue girl!!! GG: she sort of haunted my childhood and i had trouble sleeping for a long time GG: but of course i got older and realized that was silly, but then i just speculated that maybe it was suicide GG: which was just a really sad thing to think about!!!

Understatement of the century. This moment shaped Jade's entire psychology. Those who have lost loved ones to suicide often report wrestling with a mixture of grief and anger: anger that they were left to pick up the aftermath. For Jade, this was a moment of abandonment. Her guardian, who should have been there to take care of her, took his life and left her alone on a deserted island with only her (admittedly magic) dog to help her survive. For years, she had to take care of herself, to serve as her own guardian in his absence. Grandpa should have been there, but he wasn't. The culmination of the "increasing stakes" of the Beta kids' guardians is that Jade's guardian is dead and gone.

The scene of Jade squaring off against her stuffed Grandpa in the foyer is thus, like many elements of Hussie's writing, played for both comedy and horror at once, a true Hussnasty grotesque. For some time, Hussie builds up the mystery of Jade's guardian (using, I think, Dave’s remarks and Grandpa’s weirdness to build a sense of unease), only to shock the reader with an ugly revelation that carries echoes of horror-movie jump-scares. The man in the foyer is no man, but a symbol of death, a skeleton, a mummy, a rotting corpse in the place where a protector should be.

Grandpa's fatal flaw is absence itself.

[This is maybe the psychological motif mmmmmalo's picking up on? I feel like you could very easily read Jade’s feelings of horror and disgust as an echo of this suicide, and thus see Lord English as a mythic echo of Grandpa's absence as much as his presence. That’s my take, anyway.]

Hence Jade's anger in the foyer. He has left her alone, forced her to take up the responsibilities he failed to uphold. She pretends he's alive and imagines him chiding her for not being prepared to face the wilds alone--a situation she knows he put her in. Hence her snapping back at the corpse that she's already perfectly prepared, thank you very much. The scene mixes nostalgia, grief and anger in the saddest way.

This fits with the way Grandpa is themed around DEATH. Not only is he a mounted corpse, his collections of knights, mummies, big game, and degraded beauty shop photos evoke history and the dead, echoing his undead presence in Jade's life. (They also suggest he carries memories of Jake's friends: an orange knight, a pink girl from a land of pyramids, and a blue beauty, furthering the connections between Grandpa and Jake.)

But Grandpa, like Jake, is also themed around FANTASY. Or ESCAPISM, perhaps. Grandpa lives the life of a millionaire explorer-physicist, the boy howdy rough-and-tumble existence that never existed out of Boys' Adventure Comics and Teddy Roosevelt. His trophies and relics suggest a life of constant fantasizing, a retreat into his own self-image to avoid facing the world. After all, if you move to a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, you never have to interact with anyone else. This is astoundingly consistent with what we know of Jake's flaws: he constructs narratives to hide from responsibility and his own mistakes, from ignoring Jane's anger to ignoring the unaddressed issues in his relationship with Dirk to ignoring Jane's romantic interest in him the moment he finds a convenient excuse to do what he wanted to do anyway. Grandpa seems to be cast in very much the same mode, and his whimsical relics further the theme.

For Jade, though, Grandpa's ESCAPISM has also been harmful. Because Grandpa left her what must have seemed the ultimate moment of escapism: a tea party with a stuffed blue doll. Think of what Jade must have thought later: that Grandpa went out lost in daydreaming about a beautiful blue girl. That maybe he planned that as a way to end it all. Her anger is fueled in part by the fact that he ran away from the responsibility of raising her, into his fantasy world instead.

Of course, as readers we know that's not true: Tavros was the one who, through Bec, shot the gun. But there's a grain of truth in Jade's perception of the situation: while not suicidal, Grandpa was being irresponsible. Lost in his silly tea party, he missed the fact that his granddaughter was about to shoot herself with a flintlock pistol. She was saved by Tavros's redirection, while he paid the ultimate price for his distraction.

So Grandpa's flaw, like Jake's, is one of absence and escapist irresponsibility, death and fantasy. Grandpa really did harm her by his absence. And in his absence, all he left her with was necessity.

Jade takes care of herself, because what else can she do? She feeds the dog. She does what she needs to do to survive. She goes about her day. She defines herself in opposition to her grandfather: if he was irresponsible, she will be responsible. She will do what's necessary, no matter what it takes.

And she represses the fuck out of her grief.

This is way buried for most of the time we know Jade, but it comes to the surface when we meet Jadesprite. See, in addition to having a reminder of her Grandfather's mortality, Jade has spent her life face to face with her own. Her dreamself, which represents the one place in her life where she let herself go along with fantasy and escapism, is already a stuffed corpse. Consciously or subconsciously, she knows that happy escapist world will also die. When she prototypes that body, though, she's acting out of responsibility and necessity as part of an effort to defeat the threat of Jack Noir. She expects that a version of herself will share that desire.

But Jadesprite presents what is to her the most nightmarish possibility: that she might prefer living in the fantasy to responsibility. She tries to comfort her alt-self at first, but quickly becomes disgusted that a version of herself could feel that way. But it's not surprising: Dream Jade was the only version of herself who could let herself lay down responsibility and necessity and admit to herself the extent of her fear. Unfortunately, this isn't the way Jade would like herself to be. Jadesprite is exactly what she represses. There's a seeming moment of catharsis when Jade and Jadesprite become one, but, as I've noted before, Hussie ultimately suggests that spritefusion isn't enough to fix what Jade struggles with.

None of this is Jade's fault. It's the way she's been shaped by the outside force of her grandfather's death. Her grandfather was flawed, she lives with the consequences, picking up the pieces of the loss, doing things out of necessity.

SBURB recapitulates that tragedy, forcing Jade to reckon with her trauma and her perception of her own relation to it.

The SBURBan Tragedy

Is SBURB evil? I used to see it that way. These days I'm not so sure. Conversations with revolutionaryduelist have shown me that, despite its dangerous side, SBURB is usually presented in a neutral light in canon, more amoral than deliberately cruel. It's a Game that can be put to different purposes. RD argues that SBURB is ultimately little more than an extension of its players' wills, and I find a lot of reasons to agree.

As I've argued before (particularly in my Self Pile Essay, though my feelings have evolved since), I strongly feel that the ending of Homestuck relies on a critique of SBURB, that it depicts the Game as inherently tragic. You wouldn't think this would jive with RD's notion of "do what you will," but I actually think these two perspectives can be easily reconciled. A Game that's an extension of everyone's wills can still have a tragic effect on its players, especially on those who don't realize their own power within the system. I'm sure we can all think of times when the wills of others were an oppressive force in our lives. Our critique of SBURB, then, is really a critique of the uses to which the Game has been put, by overpowering wills like that of Caliborn/Lord English, who makes the alpha timeline bend to him without realizing how much it echoes his own limitations.

Like Grandpa Harley, Lord English (the unseen conductor whose riddle is absence itself) forces others to reckon with the implications of his choices. The complex web of time loops and paradoxes LE leaves in his wake forces our heroes to act out of necessity and to take responsibility for their escape.

So while I might talk about SBURB in negative terms here, understand I'm talking about the mess of all the loops, all the implications of the many harmful wills and choices our kids have to deal with. Jade in some ways most of all.

Initially, Jade experiences SBURB as a positive force in her life. It allows her freedom and happiness; companionship among the people of Prospit while in her most optimistic, worry-free mindset. She participates in its necessities, its enforced time loops, not out of obligation but in connection to her dreaming happiness.

As the kids' game goes on, though, Jade loses Prospit and her dreamself, and loses, too, the easy release from herself that they represent. Like all the kids, she becomes aware of the threat of Jack Noir, and directs her responsible mind towards the necessity of dealing with him--leading of course, to her clash with Jadesprite. Later, this focus shifts to take in the true cause of everything that went wrong in their session: the unseen guiding hand of Lord English.

We all know what happens to Jade because of this. In the original timeline, all our kids' efforts fail, and all of them die in the events of Game Over, Jade first and most surprisingly. John retcons the timeline using his retcon powers, and achieves victory by changing the course of events. However, it's a victory that causes Jade to suffer deeply: in the final timeline, she loses and grieves John and Davesprite, her closest friends on the Battleship voyage, and for a time wonders if she was responsible for their horrifying, baffling death. Later, she learns from a mysterious sentinel (Alt-Calliope) that it was all part of a larger plan. This is a relief to her, but as much as she'd like it to, it doesn't erase her grief.

This is brutally, totally unfair. And that's the point.

I've seen folks point out that the retcon could have gone many other ways: for instance, merging the populations of the meteor and the battleship. That's true, but it misses the point a little, I think. The Retcon is an arbitrary solution to a large problem in Paradox Space, acting out of necessity to bring Caliborn's will to a close. Remember that John didn't choose how his retcon would go: he worked it out with the Game itself through his Denizen. Not only did the Game bring forth the very tools to end Caliborn and close his time loop, finishing what his will started, it also worked out the logistics of the timeline that would get them there. And that's the tragedy.

John had only the vaguest idea how his actions would affect Jade, knowing only that either he would die or people would grieve him. By working with his Denizen, he mastered his powers and managed to create a reality where everyone could escape the will of Lord English. But it created an awful situation for Jade, and indeed, he's horrified when he finds out that was the result.

For me, the victory our kids experience over Lord English and his will as manifest in SBURB isn't presented as an unambiguous one. Rather, it's triumph mixed with shades of tragedy. John's reformulation of reality has consequences. The loss of our kids' coherency of self (see the Self Pile) is one of them--I do think it's meant to be at least a little disconcerting that it's new versions of our beloved characters who get the victory. And it's Jade who represents that tragic element the most, because she suffers the brunt of it. The fact that Jade suffers because of the Retcon tells us that for all the positivity of the final scenes of Homestuck, there's still a dark side to the system of SBURB.

Because there was never any point at which any of this took place outside the system of SBURB. It gave Caliborn what he wanted, and then took it back again, not because it had any intentions towards him, but because his will was self-defeating and self-limited. And through the Denizens, it gave our kids the escape they wanted: but they still had to deal with the necessity of responding to Caliborn's intentions, and perhaps SBURB'S own limitations, too. It could give them an escape, but not without certain consequences.

It's no coincidence that Denizens make a resurgence near the end of Homestuck. They are the Game's way of engaging in dialogue with its players, and they preside over every aspect of everyone's ending. Yaldabaoth gives Caliborn his deal, while Echidna signs off on the birth of the Genesis Frog once she's had a chance to inspect its guardians. Echidna is also the one who guides Alt-Calliope towards ending Caliborn's reign. And Typheus lets John become a retcon master so that he can win his friends their complicated victory.

Thinking about this has helped me make sense of a scene that initially baffled me. Near the end of Collide, the story turns absurdly positive: our kids win victory after victory over every opponent they were facing. And then, suddenly, disconcertingly, the scene begins to fade out and flash with static, while strange cries are heard. Then it freezes, and the mechanical contrivance that Hussie once used to represent Homestuck's Acts and narrative is all we can see, frozen in black and white.

Those strange sounds are the sounds that played in scenes with Denizens. And not just any Denizen: the specific whale-song we hear is the voice of Typheus, the Denizen who helped John negotiate his retcon and who, through blowing up a duplicate John and Davesprite on LOWAS, is the most directly responsible for Jade's suffering.

The message of the end of Collide, then, brought spectacularly home by this juxtaposition of victory poses and sudden distance, is that the victory achieved, while real, was negotiated by the systems of SBURB and Skaia every step of the way. This, too, is the message of the Spirograph that suddenly appears at the end of Act 7: our kids have left the Game for good, but the Game goes on without them, and always will.

Jade's experiences show what the costs of that might be.

The Gnostic Triumph of Jade Harley, Witch of Space

And yet.

Jade also achieves victory. An even more powerful victory, in fact. In a deeply Gnostic moment, she confronts the arbitrary suffering of SBURB in a way none of the other kids ever do. She directly confronts the Game, and the cruel intentions unleashed through it by Lord English, by moving beyond them altogether and claiming her own agency.

It's Davepeta who helps her see it.

Once, Jade thought she was responsible for her friends' deaths. Later she learned from Alt-Calliope it happened as part of SBURB's cosmic plan. She was able to take some comfort in that: but it didn't keep her from her grief. When she meets Alt-Calliope again, Jade continues to try to make sense of her experiences through the lens of necessity, through the lens of a responsibility she has to fulfil.

Let's look closely at the difference between what Calliope says about the Space role, and how Jade interprets it for herself.

CALLIOPE: why the hurry? CALLIOPE: you have already proven your heroism in the moments when it was needed most. CALLIOPE: it is important to know when the greatest good is best served by remaining dormant. CALLIOPE: whether that burden is for close to eternity, or only a few more minutes. CALLIOPE: it is something to learn as a space player. CALLIOPE: space falls back. it yields. hosts the play silently. CALLIOPE: then, it roars to life when its time comes, showing all who is really the master. CALLIOPE: and so too when the time comes, it collapses in on itself, taking all else with it.

Calliope argues that Space is about patience, that patience itself is heroic. But Jade interprets this to mean that loneliness and suffering are a cross she must bear. As she says shortly afterward:

JADE: as a space player... someone who "falls back" as she said JADE: maybe being pushed aside by fate, and like JADE: being deprived of important people and experiences JADE: no matter how painful it is, or how much you feel like you need them JADE: i guess thats just how it goes for us JADE: i think i never appreciated how much of a burden your aspect was to you JADE: but i think im starting to get it now JADE: it just took a long time to figure out what mine really meant

But that's not what Calliope is saying. Alt-Calliope is talking about Space, to be sure, but she's talking about it in terms of her own role. Alt-Calliope is a very different person from Jade, one who is entirely comfortable with placing her identity and agency in the hands of necessity, with sacrificing everything for necessity. But what works for Alt-Calliope won't work for Jade. Jade needs friendships, needs her own life and happiness outside the Game in a way Alt-Calliope does not. (And a Muse of Space is a very different creature than a Witch of Space, a much more active and self-oriented role.)

And Calliope knows this, too. While she teaches Jade about her own understanding of Space, she doesn't ask that Jade follow her into the Green Sun, nor does she ask that Jade construct her life in the same exact terms. Again, it's Jade, not Calliope, who tries to suggest that losing all her friends is her Space-y burden to bear. Calliope, however, reminds Jade that they're very different creatures, and need different things:

CALLIOPE: you are still quite young, and your kind is soft. CALLIOPE: the ability to absolutely dominate is better housed in a being designed for seclusion, singularity of purpose, and remorseless resolve. CALLIOPE: it is too much for one like you.

(And here the domination Calliope's talking about isn't just Lord English's, but her own Muse of Space response to that domination, the reshaping of Paradox Space by falling back and then roaring to life.)

Calliope suggests that Jade might choose to go along with the sleep that keeps her from being a danger in the final fight, but she doesn't require it. Instead, she says:

CALLIOPE: if you must have advice, i will give you some similar to that i gave your other space-playing friend. CALLIOPE: i told her to live, where before she had not. CALLIOPE: so too, you are similarly imprisoned by various inertias. CALLIOPE: these weigh on you. CALLIOPE: you are a child, belonging to a race for which that distinction is understood to correspond with experiences of "enjoyment." CALLIOPE: perhaps you should try to have, CALLIOPE: "fun."

Calliope doesn't need what Jade needs. But she knows Jade is more than a means to an end. Jade needs fun, she needs friendship, and she needs happiness. Even though Calliope sees advantage in Jade remaining asleep, she goes out of her way to tell her about the alternate possibilities that might free her from imprisoning inertias.

This leaves Jade somewhat confused. She wants to make sense of her life in terms of the mandates and loops of SBURB/Lord English, fulfilling every necessity. But Calliope rejects that notion for Jade and emphasizes the difference between their species.

So when Davepeta comes along, Jade is wrestling with the strangeness of the Calliope encounter.

JADE: calliope said i was too strong or something JADE: but she also said i should have "fun" so JADE: i dunno JADE: i guess im just waiting around for the right moment

She's trying to make sense of Calliope's offer while still trying to see herself in terms of necessity. Davepeta, though, rejects that completely. When Jade tells them her statement above, trying to describe herself in terms of someone who "has to" be pushed around by the rules of Space, Davepeta responds extremely skeptically:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so THATS what space means? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < bein lonely??

Note the incredulous extra question mark. Jade continues to try to describe herself as someone who has to follow the mandates of others and systems outside her control. And yet as she talks about it, she reveals how dissatisfied she is with that notion of herself:

JADE: but i think that can be one of the results of gaining a deeper understanding of it JADE: or becoming connected to it more... JADE: i dunno, this stuff is all pretty mysterious :p JADE: i dont have it all figured out yet obviously JADE: i just feel pretty sad that as i get closer to understanding my abilities and true nature JADE: it apparently means being deprived of some important experiences JADE: like i get closer to my aspect, but further away from everyone i love, and further from... JADE: feeling like a person? JADE: its just a really empty feeling after a while JADE: empty like... JADE: space i guess JADE: heh

I don't think we're to take this as an absolute statement. While there's truth in Calliope's depiction of space as receptive and patient. I think we're to take these lines as Jade wrestling with her own feelings about the way she should be. Davepeta doesn't argue that Jade should accept this description of herself. Instead, Davepeta opens up a startling alternate possibility: that Jade is more than necessity, bigger than her circumstances, larger than her suffering. If Jade's suffering is an echo of the arbitrary unfairness of the way SBURB divides up our protagonists' selves to bring Lord English to an end, then Davepeta suggests that the key to escaping suffering is to see the self beyond those individual identities:

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but you werent actually deprived of important experiences DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < stuff like us dating and johns stupid birthday parties and playing shitty ghostbuster mmos DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < that stuff all happened to you, its just you dont have access to the memories DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < they didnt happen to shape this particular version of yourself DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but they all played a role in helping like "greater jade" grow if that makes sense DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < everything that ever happens to every version of you is an important part of your ultimate self... like a superceding bodyless and timeless persona that crosses the boundaries of paradox space and unlike god tiers or bubble ghosts or whatever, it really IS immortal DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but in your physical form there are all these partitions in your mind that prevent you from remembering any of that which makes your existence f33l totally linear DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < which is probably for the best! DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in a regular body s33ing all that would be too overwhelming DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in an advanced sprite form like mine tho its fine DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i guess the same spritey magic that makes it possible to suddenly understand so much is also what makes it possible to make it bearable all at once DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < not even just bearable actually sorta liberating and cool DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and after it sinks in for a while you start coming to this understanding of a greater self

AVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < im not COMPLETELY sure because im not like some sort of ASPECT MASTER but DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < my avian slash feline intuition tells me that all roads will lead you here eventually DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < gaining the d33pest possible understanding of any aspect will bring you to the same final conclusion about your ultimate self DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so maybe thats starting to happen for you too DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < the space aspect sounds like a hard and lonely road to travel... i think they probably all are DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but youre gettin there jade DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you are doing great and im so proud of you!

Once again, this isn't Davepeta saying that Jade needs to be happy about what's happened to her--they acknowledge that living in SBURB is painful, a hard and lonely road for anyone of any aspect. But seeing oneself as this "ultimate self" allows one to see a bigger picture, to find meaning in one's actions even when buffeted by what seems to be the cruelty of fate. In a Game whose tragedy is that divides people up into different manifestations of themselves, each going to an arbitrary fate, that's the way to find victory, to find happiness beyond each tragedy. That's the balance that Homestuck's ending is deeply concerned with, and Jade Harley represents it all: both the suffering and the remedy.

Davepeta's proud of her for coming this far. I'm proud of her, too.

But does this understanding work for Jade? Does it free her from the way she saw herself as an instrument of fate, a tool of necessity? I think it does. Because after talking with Davepeta, Jade starts to live her life differently.

We see this clearly in Collide and the events leading up to Collide. Jade was ready to accept that she had to stay asleep merely because it was what others expected of her. But Davepeta convinces her that she should wake up if she wants to wake up:

JADE: i guess im just waiting around for the right moment DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < nah thats dumb DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you should be able to do whatever you want JADE: really? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < well at least she was right about the having fun part DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < maybe thats what she meant?? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < maybe she was leaving it up to you in a mysterious way JADE: leaving what up to me? JADE: the decision to wake up?

Davepeta's message to Jade, informed by their deep understanding of life beyond one lifetime, is that Jade can do things for herself, rather than do them as a reaction to necessity. And the secret is that that choice makes all the difference.

Jade does choose to wake up, and after waking up, rejects any idea that she should go back to following necessity, or other people’s commands:

DAVE: jade DAVE: god dammit DAVE: GO BACK TO SLEEP! JADE: NO WAY!!!!! :P

JADE: i am very much awake! JADE: and i intend to stay that way :)

Jade chooses to take Calliope up on her offer: she chooses to go have fun. For the first time, she pursues her goals completely and utterly for her own reasons. She chooses to take on the mission of dealing with the Omnidogs Bec Noir and PM...pretty much because she wants to. And she does it in her own way: she doesn't get in a fight, but plays with her dogs, recreating the fun times in her life with Bec by warping around and dancing around in the sky with them.

While she ends up getting punched out by PM, it's mostly comic: she isn't hurt or upset--she had a fun time, and did what she wanted to do. She's asserting her own agency, not responding to the will of anyone else, be it Lord English, Dave, John, or any of the other players. She takes on SBURB's boss mechanics in her own terms and enjoys herself doing it. And what she's able to achieve by this is *reshaping the rules of the Game.* Because of her, PM beats Bec Noir. For the first time in the known history of SBURB, White beats Black, Prospit beats Derse, entirely thanks to her presence. This change is subtle but huge. It represents what Jade's doing on a cosmic level: she's creating the Game, creating her reality, for herself, not responding to anyone else's intention, but putting forth her own to shape the world.

The Gnostics of ancient times said that the material world we lived in was merely an illusion created by the tyrant Yaldabaoth, and that all we needed to do to escape his tyranny was to look within ourselves. Because we were made of the same stuff as the True God, filled with the same wisdom as Sophia, and if we could truly know ourselves, could know exactly who we were, we could walk back through the gates into the Garden of Eden, knowing that we were God, part of a true divine reality bigger than anything Yaldabaoth could understand.

So, too, does Jade Harley, GardenGnostic, in that moment, know that she is bigger than anything that once defined her. Not her grandfather's death and failings, not her role as a link in the prophecies of Skaia, not Jack Noir, and not the limitations of a single Jade in a tragic timeline. None of those things define her. She is greater still, the JADE beyond Jades, and she has just as much power to make SBURB, to make all of Paradox Space what she wants it to be as any would-be tyrant. She stares Lord English in the eye, and knows she is as great within this contest of wills as he is. They all are.

And that makes Jade a little bit different from her fellow gods: she knows in full what the rest of them are only beginning to understand.

When we next see Jade after Act 7, in the Credits sequence, we see her growing plants again after a long time away from her garden, returning to her own personal Eden, and we see her spending time with John, Dave, and Karkat--all the people that she loves.

Knowing who she is, she has escaped all the inertias that once bound her, and is turning reality into what she wants it to be.

In the world of SBURB, that's the way to find a happy ending.

[Next time: Maybe I’ll do that reception of the ending thing I promised last time? Or maybe not? Maybe I’ll be too busy playing Hiveswap? Maybe life is full of infinite delicious possibilities, and we’re all riding this magic train out to the Pleroma together? Who knows, man. Who knows.]

#jade harley #grandpa harley #homestuck analysis #jake english #homestuck #off-the-cuff homestuck thoughts extravaganza 2017 #gnostic influences #gnostic themes #alt calliope #space aspect #freedom to live #THE ULTIMATE SELF #homestuck ending #understanding homestuck #suicide cw #csa mention

279 notes · View notes

decoding1432 · 7 years

Text

“It’s patriarchy”

I’ll be making lots of comparisons throughout the post in order to illustrate better my point. Lauren said it: “It’s rampant sexism”. On the media, on the GP’s perception, on the production process, on the industry in general.

Let’s start with some basics....

BB released an article back in early 2015 where it was described Why Can't Modern Girl Groups Land a Radio Hit? These modern GG more like 5H & LM. In this written piece there are several statements that undoubtedly caught my attention. Starting with the last paragraph:

When I asked Biddle why he thinks One Direction enjoy more stateside success than girl groups, he echoed Wiegenstein's sentiment. "I don't know 100 percent. I guess it's because those boys are 'cute'? It could be as simple as that."

How sad it is that we exist in the midst of 21st century & still there are people that prefer “pretty faces & looks” over talent– btw this comment is not triggered to 1D in the slightest, I have nothing but respect for them– I just mean this in a very generalised form.

It’s not secret that a girlband has to work 10x harder to get a quarter of the recognition a boyband gets.

Similarly, a girl group isn't as easy to promote as a boy band. "In terms of teen magazines, the idea of marketing different members of boy bands is easier," says Anna Louise Wiegenstein, a former pop culture instructor (and Little Mix fan), who's giving a talk on One Direction fan culture at the National Pop Culture Association/American Culture Association Conference in April. "There's the 'funny one,' the 'mysterious one' -- it's easy to make quizzes and profile pieces around them."

When marketing a girl group to teenage girls, Wiegenstein continues, it's harder to tap into those teenage hormones. "When you're talking about a group of girls, they target the brands around personalities," she says. "It's more like, 'Which one would be your friend?' And there's less of a fantasy aspect to that."

Leaving aside the marketing strategy (which is true, bc how many times we have seen someone in the fandom say “I’m more like Lauren” or “Dinah & I would get along” etc.), I want to focus in the use of “teenage hormones”. Hormonal is always associated to the female self. Which leads me to jump into the media field:

Here a contrast on how media reported 5H x Camila vs. 1D x Zayn

Informing about the “We don’t talk to our ex-bandmates anymore” moment.

In contrast to Camila’s report, Zayn’s one has got this “scattering element”, if I can call it like that. The “chunky girls” & “Gigi Hadid” features helped to divert the viewer’s attention from the main point. Just look at the comments section from the two videos & the difference is pretty self explanatory….

youtube

Sadly the more problematic the situation evolves around the girls, the better. For boys, the situation is showcased in a much lighter form even if the conflict is tighter over there.

youtube

We know that in both cases narratives are recycled. However on this side the girls haven’t threw shade thus far, unfortunately media portraits the whole in an almost unforgivable way. For the record there was not really much to report. It’s only about the time Lauren posted the “fake that confidence bih” tweet, only to later explain it was to herself. Still that was not going to stop them from pulling a video to attract a handful of viewers. The segment starts by quoting the title, which by the way ensures grabbing the spectator’s attention: “Did Lauren Jauregui diss Camila Cabello AGAIN After Grammy After-Party?”

*in my most sarcastic tone* You guys, apparently L shaded C more than once & we didn’t know… I grew three grey hairs with that headline itself. Right after including Lauren’s tweet to the assumed shade, the only thing they added on the coverage script was a simple “preach girl” 😒😒

youtube

Whereas in the 1D side Zayn did throw shade (several times), a public fight on Twitter unleashed & the reporter’s remarks sound nothing like in the 5H coverage. The feud is a lot less magnified. “Ugh! Put the weapons down boys!”. Hell, Clever made sure to shut down the rumours that Zayn had unfollowed the entire band. Note how they even show what happen to be “receipts” while the host says “I’ve put some of my best creeping skills to the test & found out he has not yet unfollowed them so there’s that bit of kinda sorta good news for you & in hope that this won’t ruin their friendship for good.” We can also add how in a poor attempt of diminishing the climax they brought the dolls into the scene. Seriously, I’d love to see them doing something like this when addressing the girls’ drama *sighs* only in my wildest dreams.

Why does media scandalises more the girlgroup’s party than the boyband’s one?

I’ve said this before, but I don’t mind repeating it. Hollywood has used the stigma that “women can’t get along while working” for so long. Plus the infamous stereotypes of our incredible rational society that a girl is constantly hormonal, temperamental & always has to be involved in any sort of catfight with someone from the same gender. There has to be a “bitch” in the story without exception. Inside the entertainment industry, they love taking advantage of this cliché. Not said by me, but coming directly from a very renowned actress…

Jessica Chastain talks sexism in the industry

If the video loads for you, I highly recommend that you watch it. It’s such a short article, nevertheless I’ll be attaching some extracts below:

There was a great myth that I grew up with that women don’t work well together,” Jessica Chastain tells Vanity Fair.

Back when she was promoting The Help in 2011, Chastain explains, “so many of the questions I was getting from the press was about fighting on set—’Was it tough to be on set with all those girls?’ I wasn’t getting those questions with any of the other movies that I’d been involved with.”

Out of joke, I lost count of all the times I’ve heard this same question with 5H.

Fun fact that I found randomly: Reminder that only 3% of the decision-making in media is made by women. Which means that 97% of how women are portrayed is decided by men.

Always pitting women against each other is what our generation does best nowadays. Clearly mgmt & the label have used this with the fandom. The creation of “-izers” are a great example of this. As well this standard is ultimately what impulses the narrative on a daily basis. Stans went from loving & defending the group with their lives, to only caring about their faves. I know some fans still keep up with each girl & love them all. I have faith in those stans. If you’re one of them, don’t fall for that mischievous game, thank you.

DON’T BE NAIVE, KIDS.

P.S. I leave you the link to others sexist scenarios in the industry. Worth checking each out.

This Is The Kind Of Bullsh*t You Face As A Woman In The Music Industry

99% of women working in the film and TV industries have experienced sexism

I’ve heard, for example, that if a male director is being picky, people say he has a strong vision. With a woman, people will say she is being difficult. It’s also common to assume that kindness is a sign of weakness.

7 Anecdotes From Female Artists Show How Deep Sexism Runs in the Music Industry

"Women in the industry are judged more," Nicki Minaj told Time back in February. "If you speak up for yourself, you're a bitch. If you party too much, you're a whore. Men don't get called these things."

Grimes Says Male Producers Threatened to Not Finish Her Songs if She Didn't Have Sex

Grimes is no stranger to being open about the misogyny and sexism she and other females face in the industry.

Grimes fielded one fan's question, who asked why the topic seems like such a "regular thing" for her to tweet and speak about if she finds it so annoying. Grimes explained it only seems that because of the way the press fixates on it.

#sexism in the industry #sensationalised media #fifth harmony #camila cabello

147 notes · View notes