#anyway... i remembered what i referenced in my earlier post <3
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Hollow Heart
{ chapter 3 - choke }
『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo
╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱
♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡
summary: you have zero clue where you are after your abduction. white walls, medical instruments, the smell of rust, and hazy memories are all that keep you company during your time in the mystery lab. the horrors that lurk between these steel walls are going to give you nightmares for an eternity. all you can think about is getting home to your best friends and family, back to the life you sorely missed.
tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance
a/n: To all of you who have stopped to read this fic, thank you so much! This was my jump back into writing after almost a decade. I appreciate every single one of you!!
꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 13,885k as of ch.3 ꒱
Main Post
Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5,092k]
Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4,799k]
Chapter 3 | Choke [3,995k]
Chapter 4 | The Grey
Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone
Chapter 6 | Tourniquet
Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go
『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩
CHAPTER THREE: CHOKE
Day One (?)
Metallic rust.
That's all you could taste when you awoke from your drugged slumber, the world stuck in a haze as you hummed in discontent.
Where the hell am I?
The thought muddled in your head as you attempted to gauge your surroundings. The numbness in your limbs from earlier had been replaced with a new sensation - your body feeling too heavy for your bones to carry.
Did someone strap a weight to your shoulders and ankles?
You rotate your head sluggishly to see an all white and gray room, one singular door directly ahead of where you sat. There's a metal table in the corner with a few machines - you can't seem to determine what their purposes are. On your left, a surgical instruments table sits ominously, a few bloody bandages and an empty syringe splayed across it.
There's a sudden pulse in your head that rattles your brain, the train of thought you had derailing instantly. Glimpses of memories begin to spark in your mind - Bakugo's anguished expression as you drifted out of consciousness, an unknown number of hands removing your hero suit and belongings, cold steel of an operating table touching your bare skin, the ungodly amount of poking and prodding of your delicate skin with needles of all shapes and sizes, and a glass enclosure.
How are you remembering all of this if you weren't even conscious for the majority of it?
As if to answer your silent question, a doctor enters the room - what you presume is a doctor, anyways, by the looks of his white surgeon coat and stethoscope around his neck.
"Good morning. Would you prefer the use of your hero name or first name?" He asks, paging through the file on his clipboard.
What the fuck?
"Uhh...hero name?" you slur as you answer, voice cracking with exhaustion. You're not able to think straight in the moment and have zero adrenaline to be combative.
"Noted. How are you feeling?" His tone is dry, like every other doctor you've met in your life.
"Shitty."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Can you elaborate?"
God, this is so annoying. Why the hell are you being interrogated?
"M'everything feels...funny. Heavy but also...fuzzy?"
He scribbles down notes on a few different pages, flipping back and forth through the stack on his clipboard.
"Is it my turn t'ask a question?" you quip, snickering at your own request.
He approaches you hastily and slaps the ever-loving shit out of you. You let out a sharp yelp, the sting of his palm radiating on your cheek.
"Subjects only speak when spoken to."
A chill runs down your spine when he uses the term "subjects." Just how many of you are there?
"Return her to containment," he orders, signaling to someone behind you before turning to exit the room. Another man enters as the doctor leaves, dressed in white scrubs with mint green latex gloves. He approaches you, latching a pair of handcuffs around your wrists while turning off a device nearby.
"C'mon, move it," he scolds as he yanks on the chain of the handcuffs. You stumble forward to your feet, wobbling on jelly legs as he's dragging you behind him. Looking down, your wrists were littered with bruises in varying shades of yellow, purple and green. Had they cuffed you earlier and roughhoused you? A few raw spots on your arm lead you to believe they had taken blood from you at some point, too. You have zero inclination to how long you've even been wherever the hell you are - anything is possible.
The mystery worker drags you down multiple corridors of dimly lit metal hallways and various steel lacing the walls. There were no windows in sight as you maneuvered your way around the labyrinth of never-ending laboratories, holding cells and various medical exam rooms. He stops in front of a frosted glass cell, swiping a keycard in front of the mechanism on the door. It opens with a high pitched beep and he pushes you inside, whipping you around by the shoulders to face him. He undoes your restraints before slamming the glass door shut, locking it with another beep of the keycard.
With the silence comes the realization of your current predicament, crashing down around you like a tidal wave. It's intense, the surge of emotion that cascades through your entire body as if someone flipped a switch inside you.
One lingering thought pulls at your heartstrings - Bakugo's face as you slipped away from him, his panic and desperation as he failed to save you.
And to top it all off, you told him you loved him.
In the heat of the moment, it felt right. But now? It feels selfish. You admitted your feelings just in time for them to be ripped away from him. You don't even know if you're going to see him ever again. What if you die down here?
Oh.
What if you die down here?
Alone and scared.
Away from your family, friends...Katsuki, your best friend - the secret love of your life.
You never got to kiss him, properly express your affection for him - the experience was stolen away from you.
You're left to your own devices inside an unknown cell, blubbering on the tiny cot in the corner, frustration burning in your chest as you're heaving sob after sob. It triggers something in you never felt before - an unfamiliar violent rage. Launching up from the cot, you snivel as you face the wall and punch it with all the energy you can gather.
"Fuck!" You wail, failing to recollect the memory that your still under the effect of the quirk suppressant. The sound of your knuckles smashing against the steel wall reverbs as it sends lightning bolts of pain up your arm, dissolving as the adrenaline makes its way through your entire being.
And then something terrifying stirs in your guts as the blood drips from your knuckles onto the floor.
The pain was satisfying.
Day Nine
Days have passed, that much you knew, but how many? That answer remained unclear, no matter how many times you begged various workers around the compound. No one ever answered you with words, just violence. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve been slapped, kicked, and pushed around for engaging in minimal conversation. There’s other prisoners here, too, but no one is allowed to communicate. You see each other sometimes in the hallways but never long enough to speak, even if you wanted to. It was like everyone was a ghost, all haunting the same burial ground.
Shockingly enough, they keep you fed and allowed one shower per day. It's a confusing system, considering how inhumane things have proven to be, but you're convinced it's to keep their subjects "healthy" for their fucked up experiments.
Your schedule consisted of a hellish rotation of broken sleep and taking whatever drugs they forced upon you. The amount of times you were pulled from your cell varied for their trials that they had planned for the day. Whether it be once, or four times, you never knew how many hours you'd be stuck under surveillance in a catatonic state.
You desperately tried to turn your emotions off to protect your psyche at any chance you could. As much as you hated to admit defeat, the endless stress and over dosage of unknown substances was more than enough to keep you underwater, sinking further toward rock bottom with each passing moment.
A guard stalks up to your cell and bangs on the glass to grab your attention.
“Y/H/N, your cooperation is needed for test 15. Up and at ‘em.”
Your body is burdened with all the medical trauma you've endured over the last few days, slowing your pace to a sluggish limp as you make your way toward the cell door.
"Hurry it up, subject. We ain't got all day!" he shouts, startling you with his sudden command.
Fuck this place.
Day Fourteen
"Test 23, Y/H/N - Forced kinetic energy release. Begin testing."
You don't have time to react before the IVs hooked to you begin to force various fluids into your veins. The competing sensations flood through you in rough currents - hot, cold, burning, stinging in cycles. A well-known tunnel vision begins to cloud your sight as you squirm in the steel throne you've been restrained to. You're body is on the verge of passing out when an intrusive illusion appears before you.
"Hello? Sweetie?"
Your mother appears in front of you, outstretching a phantom hand to touch your shoulder.
What the fuck...mom? How is she here right now?
"Are you coming home?" she asks, her face settled in a deadpan expression. Her voice resembles a computerized AI, as if someone is programming her dialog.
"Mom?" you speak aloud, frightened by how real this looks and feels.
"Honey? Are you coming home? Katsuki and Izuku need you."
"Mom, I'm right here. What do you mean?" You're becoming more and more disturbed as she continues to drone on the same question.
"When are you coming home? Katsuki and Izuku need help."
She's not real.
She's not really here - this shadow knows nothing.
Snap the fuck out of it, they must have drugged you with a hallucinogenic.
But why? What the hell does this have to do with quirk suppressants?
"You're not here," you growl, screwing your eyes shut, refusing to entertain anymore of this apparition of your mother.
"Oh, but honey, I am!"
What?
A force squeezes at your throat, cutting off an anxious breath as it leaves your lips. You scramble to grasp at the hallucination, forgetting you're trapped in the testing chamber and can't move. Your hands are flexing repeatedly under the shackles as energy is collecting in your palms, unable to control the emotional response racing through every nerve in your body.
They must have not given you the suppressant...or mixed it with something more deadly.
"No!" You croak, your scream choked out by the pressure on your neck.
Your vision turns white, a sudden surge of energy expelling from your palms, pulsing intensely over and over again. You can feel the impact against the chair beneath you, the sound of shredding metal filling your ears as kinetic energy is forcibly pouring out of you in succession.
"Cease testing, inject sedation."
The pain in your hands dissipates immediately upon hearing the doctor's orders, followed by the prick of a thick needle penetrating the crook of your neck. The white cast in your vision fades, reality returning to you as your eyes glass over. One of the scientist walks around the chair and stands before you with another goddamn clipboard.
"Y/H/N, please describe how you feel and what you saw."
That familiar fire returns in your chest from your first night here - the aggressive urge to lash out. Was this a side-effect of whatever serum they've been loading you up with?
"Fuck you," you snarl, lip quivering as you're attempting to bury the ferocity thrashing inside you, begging to be set free.
He approaches you and snatches your cheeks in a rough hold. His grip tightens around your jaw as he repeats his question.
"One more time - Y/H/N, describe how you feel and what you saw."
The flame burns hotter as your fists are trembling, the emotion becoming overbearing.
Before you can stop yourself, your palms shoot up into an offensive position, sparking with the remaining collective of kinetic energy as it bursts forward, striking the scientist and sending him tumbling backward. The bonds on the arms of the chair must have broken and freed your hands during the test - you didn't even notice until you attacked the guard.
Shit.
"Quirk handcuffs and solitary - stat," orders the doctor over the surround system.
The door to the room slams open and three more scientists scramble inside as they're rushing to surround you. One shoves you down harshly into the metal chair, bouncing your head off the back of it.
Black…everything goes black.
When you come to, you’re in a new room that you don’t recognize. It’s different from the one you’ve called “home” since your arrival. There’s a mirror in the cell they’ve thrown you in and you catch a glimpse of yourself for the first time in...you don't know how long. The reflection shows you someone you don’t recognize - the girl staring back at you isn’t you. It looks like you, but her vicious predatory grin is bone chilling. This doppelgänger glares daggers at you, tilting her head menacingly as she mouths, “get out of me.”
You throw a punch at the mirror and shatter it as a blood curdling scream erupts from deep in your gut. Stumbling to the floor, you lay on the cold concrete and stare into the blank space of the solitary prison cell. You can’t even will yourself to cry.
I wanna go home…I wanna go home…
The thought recycled on loop, taunting the strength of your mental state.
I want to go home to mom, to Izuku, to Katsuki…anywhere but here.
You need to survive...
No. You will survive.
This will not kill you.
Day Twenty Five
"Y/H/N, we are going to proceed with a psychological evaluation."
Like you had a choice in the matter.
“Can you describe your experience from test 23?”
“Horrible,” you groan, the vision of your mother flowing to the forefront of your memory. “I saw a hallucination of someone that could physically touch me.”
You’ve learned in your time here not to ask further questions - answer as plainly as possible and move on.
The scientist clacked the keys on her laptop obnoxiously. “And it felt real?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“Yes.” You turn your eyes to the floor as she proceeds to type whatever nonsense into the database. She retrieves a clipboard from the bag slung on the back of her chair, sliding it across the table to you.
"Can you confirm this report is accurate from your initial intake?"
You begin to scan over the form when the words "if you want to get out of here" catch your attention.
Y/N
Y/H/N
Subject 57 - Kinetic Energy
Do not speak or react this note, until specified, if you want to get out of here.
...What?
I'm an undercover hero from the United States. I've been here for six months, waiting for an officially ranked hero to come through the facility. I haven't been able to leave since my arrival and communication has been cut off from my agency. You're the first non-civilian they've captured.
Blink four times if you had a cellphone on you when you were taken.
You look up at her and blink four times - she shoots her eyes back down to the form, signaling you to continue reading.
Can you contact outside help? Could be the agency you belong to or co-workers.
Tap the table twice for yes and three times for no.
You tap the table twice, pretending to point to specific information on the page your reading. If you could get access to your cellphone, you might just be able to send your location to initiate a rescue mission.
"Thank you, Y/H/N," she says, grabbing the clipboard and returning it to her bag. "I'll take you back to your cell, follow me."
Following the standard protocol that you're used to, she slaps a pair of handcuffs around your wrists before exiting the room. Once you reach your cell, she steps inside with you, removing the cuffs and motioning for you to come closer.
"I can look in the evidence chamber for your phone, more than likely it's in there with the other belongings after your decontamination process. Workers aren't allowed any communication devices, but they keep all of the captor's personal items guarded in one place."
You don't have time to ask her all the questions you're dying to know the answers to - how'd she get here, how did the USA know of the lab, what her undercover work consisted of, why no one came to find her...a plethora of unknowns.
But right now? She's willing to help you, that's all that matters.
"If you can conjure up enough energy with your quirk, can you charge it?" she asks faintly.
You nod in response, confirming the answer silently. Similarly to your classmate from UA, Kaminari, you were able to charge devices by converting kinetic energy into an electronic wavelength - a trick Eraserhead taught you back in Junior year.
"Here's the plan - In five days, I'll be the guard on night shift. I'll give you an empty shot of the suppressant to make it look like a realistic dosage. Once the others have dissipated to their quarters, I can lead you to the evidence stash and let you rummage through the bins while I keep watch. You grab the phone, I'll hide it in my uniform, bring you back to your cell and toss it to the floor. I'll patrol the hall while you get things set up and make contact with another hero or your agency."
She peers out of the glass cell and sees another guard making his way down the hall.
"Don't say a word. I'll be back in 5 days, and I'm sorry for what I'm about to do," she apologizes as she cracks you on the jaw with a hearty slap.
You know she had to fake it in front of the other guard to keep her cover - it still hurt like hell.
She shuts the door with a noisy clang of the door's mechanism, a high pitched beep locking it in place.
And thus, the countdown to freedom begins.
Five days until you finally make contact with the outside world - with someone.
Someone? No, you already knew who you were sending the information to - like it wasn't obvious who you'd choose to signal for help.
Day Twenty Nine
You've come this far, you can't back down now.
All you had to do was make your way back to the evidence room with the undercover hero lady, find your phone, and sneak back to your holding cell.
And force your quirk to activate.
...and not get caught.
The suspense of the plan succeeding was enough to keep you on edge as the nightly sedations were distributed. She appeared, just like she promised, and administered a fake injection to your arm. You put on a front for the other guards, fooling them into thinking you were properly medicated.
The plan's been set in motion - she'll be back in a few hours.
Day Thirty
You could feel the liberation in your grasp - the victory of sneaking your phone back to your cell filling you with exhilaration. All you had to do was wait for lights out to attempt your escape plan. You have no idea how deep the lab sits under Sector 42 and if you'll even be able to obtain a signal in your cell.
Focusing all of your willpower into the tip of your pointer finger, you hold it closely as sparks of energy softly crackle into the charging port of the phone.
Just a minute to charge, that's all I need. Enough battery to turn it on, send a call and a text and turn it back off.
You're beginning to feel lightheaded as your phone successfully powers on with a soft vibration and the logo appearing on screen.
Holy shit, it worked!
Hurriedly, you flip the silent switch before notifications begin to pour into the device, catching up on all the missed communications over the last month. Multiple calls, text messages, e-mails, the standard amount that you expected. The battery hovered at 7% and the time read 3:05AM. You glance at the date underneath the time - it's been an entire month since you disappeared.
A whole goddamn month.
There's no time to spiral over that right now!
Hunched over behind your cot, you proceed to open your messages to keep your plan on track. You're not shocked by the amount of missed texts from everyone; Midoriya, Jiro, Uraraka, Kirishima, Mina...and Bakugo.
You had 127 unread texts from him, the last coming in less than ten minutes ago.
One hundred and twenty seven.
You freeze, a mixture of guilt, excitement, and panic surging through you. Shoving all that down - you've gotten too good at doing that - you clicked on the thread, catching the last dozen or so of his messages.
[2:45AM] i don’t want to say this in a fucking text of all things
[2:45AM] especially under these circumstances
[2:46AM] but i’m scared i’ll never get to say it to you
[2:46AM] i’m a fucking idiot for not telling you sooner
[2:47AM] god dammit
[2:48AM] i love you
[2:48AM] like a stupid fucking amount
[2:49AM] i convinced myself i didn’t and that you wouldn’t feel the same
[2:50AM] and when you come home
[2:50AM] i’ll tell you every damn day to make up for all the times i didn’t
[2:51AM] that’s a promise
[2:52AM] i love you lite-brite
Tears are silently falling from your eyes, wide with astonishment at the words you're reading from him. There's no way this is real - you've got to be strung out from the quirk-drugs they've forced upon you. A delayed side effect of some sort? They've given you delusions in the past, it's not that farfetched.
He convinced himself not to love you? He's always loved you?!
He said 'I love you,' twice.
Twice!
You don't have time to read the rest as much as you're dying to catch up on all the potential sweet nothings he's sent to you over the last few weeks, but you do have time for one thing.
Before you chicken out, you click the "Call" button next to his name. The phone suddenly feels like a cinderblock in your hand as you shakily hold it to your ear. You think he's not going to answer until you hear faint rustling sounds on the other end of the line.
"H-hello?! Y/N!?"
You can't say anything - your body straightens, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. All of the misery you were holding on to, the trauma and terror, evaporated at the sound of those two words. Those two measly words wrapped around you and offered a warmth you haven't known in weeks.
You click the "End Call" button, hating that you probably gave him a heart attack, but you selfishly needed to hear his voice.
Before you forget your initial plan, you send a pinned location to Bakugo. You know he'll come running - blasting, rather - as soon as he can pinpoint exactly how to break into the lab. You have zero doubts that he can't figure it out.
[3:11AM] *location sent*
One last thing for good measure? You send an orange heart emoji.
Right as you're about to scroll up and read his past messages, your phone powers down with the empty battery symbol displaying on screen.
Your heart is racing, threatening to beat out of your chest as his words reverberate in your mind.
I love you like a stupid fucking amount.
You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment - that's so Bakugo of him to say.
At least your plan was a success and you were able to accomplish the small goal. Now all you have to do is play the waiting game - knowing Bakugo, and presumably Midoriya? That won't be long at all.
You lay back in your cot, smiling for the first time in ages, relishing in your triumph.
And for the first night since you've arrived, a peaceful rest welcomes you with open arms. You dream of home, running in the park under the glow of the sun and finding Bakugo under the shade of a nearby tree, waiting patiently for you in the summer breeze.
next up, we wrap back to the boys as they plan their rescue mission! and they're not going alone as they recruit their closest friends in their crazy plan to get you back. and don't worry, it won't be easy.
tags: @bakugouswaif @k1tk4tkatsuki @bells2319 @st0nedbitch @deftonianfr
✩ if you’d like to be tagged when updates are posted, message/comment to be added! ✩
#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugo angst#bakugo x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo#my hero academia#bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#☆.rei writes#✩.hollowheart
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Hi there, you don't have to post this on the blog, but I wanted to thank you for your earlier post with regard to different interpretations and iterations of Arthuriana. I really admire your work in/thoughts on all things Arthurian, and seeing you say "Each iteration is it's own self-contained world and anything is possible within that framework" was such a freeing thing. I'm currently writing an Arthurian thing where Lancelot falls for/ends up with someone who isn't Guinevere, and I often wrestle with the doubt of "if he isn't in love with Guinevere, am I really being true to the stories and the canon?" But each iteration is its own self-contained world, and I can honor the stories in other ways while still doing my own thing in this particular story/world. Anyway, all this to say, I'm sure it wasn't your intention, but I appreciate your insight and the encouragement it brings. Take care!
Hi there! Sorry for the delay in responding, but I wanted to think about this a bit beforehand. In writing my own Arthurian series, as well as reading and watching absolutely everything I can get ahold of, historical, medieval, and modern, I’ve developed a whole philosophy about it. So my reply got long hehe. Here’s what I think…
In the ask you referenced, I talked about how Arthurian legend lacks a true "canon," and how the stories all build off each other. The inconsistency from text to text and even chapter to chapter within the same story affords us endless opportunities for creative reinterpretation. I can basically be sold on any concept. I’ve read a lot of retellings at this point and I’m not married to any specific “canon.” If the writer can convince me that, in this version of the story, things played out differently, then I’m happy to get invested. For example, in Exiled From Camelot by Cherith Baldry, she develops Lyonors, Gareth’s wife, and makes her into a likable character the reader can easily ship with Gareth. On the other hand, I definitely see why people prefer Lynette with Gareth, as Tennyson did, and the majority of other retellings follow suit. Even so, I think Lynette and Gaheris made an adorable pair in Squire’s Tales #3, and it was a satisfying reveal in Squire’s Tales #7 that the pov character was their daughter, Lunette. It’s indicated through context clues who her parents are when they arrive at the end referring to each other by pet names. In the same vein, while I favor Ragnelle, Gawain can have any number of partners so long as the author writes the chemistry well. And while I still firmly believe Agravaine is gay in essentially every retelling, I do love Sarah Zettel’s romance Camelot’s Blood that she wrote between him and Laurel. I’m an Orkney Wives fan first and an Orkney Bros fan second haha!
That being said, Orkney Bros have always been inconsistent, so changing their love interests isn’t actually that drastic. In the case of Lancelot and Guinevere, severing their romantic connection is a huge departure from the norm. Undoubtedly, some people won’t “get it” or say it’s out of character. But the thing to remember is, there is no singular source for Arthuriana, so how can they ever be out of character? Let’s get into it.
Firstly, you don’t need to rationalize your narrative choices. To anybody. So long as you’re writing something for the sake of authenticity and good storytelling (rather than simply to be contrarian or edgy or quirky etc) it will resonate with your audience. That said, there’s medieval precedence for your concept. In Alliterative Morte Arthure, Lancelot is listed many times as one of Arthur’s knights. He’s there. Yet it is Mordred who adulterously marries Guinevere. In the romance retelling Lancelot by Gwen Rowley, Guinevere is not the love interest, but Elaine. Another similar angle is explored in Port Eternity by CJ Cherryh, which takes place entirely from Elaine’s point of view. Guinevere isn’t even truly in it and her stand in doesn’t fulfill the same role. In The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956), Lancelot definitely has A Thing with both the King and Queen, but a potential affair is not explored or even hinted at. He’s their bestie, their confidant, their most trusted person apart from each other. The key here is Lancelot still loves Guinevere (or her stand in), however that manifests. There’s no active dislike or hatred between them. In that circumstance, I don’t think the character would feel like Lancelot anymore. But changing the nature of his love for Guinevere from romantic to something else does not diminish its narrative value, as the above examples prove. Their friendship is the core of their relationship, as the Vulgate proves, and maintaining that is important.
It’s not so much about asking yourself, “Is [narrative choice] true to the ‘canon?’” as asking, “How do I tell a good story containing [narrative choice]?” There are examples of this done poorly, in my opinion. I’ve elaborated many many many times about David Lowery’s fumbling of The Green Knight (2021) and how that particular iteration falls short of a true adaptation (which I don’t think he set out to do anyway, to be fair) but also proved an unsuccessful reimagining of the poem due to mismanaged references and motifs. I didn’t like Once & Future by Cori McCarthy and Amy Rose Capetta or The Winter Knight by Jes Battis for the same reasons—both books felt like shallow, meandering stories lacking narrative integrity with a veneer of Arthuriana over it. Reincarnation AUs are not an excuse to flanderaize characters. Battis writes Wayne (Gawain) acknowledging how drastically he differs from his medieval counterpart, but awareness of it doesn’t negate the facts: the story suffers for it. On the contrary, Camelot 3000 gives an entire character arc surrounding this premise to Tristan, who has reincarnated AFAB and struggles with his gender identity and with accepting Isolde’s love for him, changed though he is. First Knight (1995) really screws up by making Lancelot a misogynistic creeper who relentlessly pursues Guinevere and even forces a kiss on her. King Arthur: Legend of The Sword (2017) is insultingly bad by showcasing just how stupid it thinks its audience is, brutalizing and killing women left and right, giving unnecessary screen time to obnoxious OCs, and bastardizing every aspect of the legend it drew from. Meanwhile the Fate Grand Order anime cuts out Guinevere entirely. Her role exists as a void. It makes no sense, then, that Lancelot and Agravaine clash as “fellow traitors,” because the woman at the center of the conflict is literally never present. Seven Deadly Sins anime has finally gotten around to Lancelot and Guinevere meeting, and she’s a clingy girl Lancelot is disinterested in, trying to flip the script on their roles, and only exacerbating the misogyny problem in shounen in the process.
Fear not! Loving Arthurian legend automatically enshrines anything you create in a glittering anti-garbage shield! So many versions exist that draw on the elements just because they can with no respect for the material nor their audience. You literally can’t do worse than what’s already out there and there are no original ideas! Published retellings love crackships, they love mixing it up, changing the expected, surprising us! So long as Guinevere isn’t made worse to make Lancelot’s alternative love interest better, and Lancelot himself isn’t turned inside out until he’s unrecognizable, you’re golden. Follow your gut and write something you would enjoy, develop it well within your own universe, and there will be an audience for it. I’m certainly among them!
Thanks for the ask. Have a lovely day! :^)
#arthurian legend#arthuriana#arthurian legends#arthurian mythology#arthurian literature#lancelot#sir lancelot#lancelot du lac#guinevere#queen guinevere#guinevere pendragon#writing#ask#usedtobeaduchess
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Also I was thinking about that one ask someone made in like 2019 when you said nagito had a shitlist that makoto and byakuya were on bc they're gay people he doesn't respect and I was like WHYYY im literally so used to nagito being up makoto's arse in both canon/fanon it was surprising!!! Also peep the nagito with hooves reference to Mr brunner in that post
Like since I went through the old asks earlier today idk if you were serious about it but nagito with hooves is quite literally just Mr tumnus and I kept laughing at the imagery while I was at work Ngl I was procrastinating on the 4 quizzes and 1 test I have tomorrow by reading some of the old pointy objects asks 💀
okay last thing I just wanna say I can't remember who named gonta but to me it was so unhinged and random so it was probably nagito wasn't it LMFAO also the idea of baby baby gonta literally makes me want to cry please keep doing him right in this fic PLEASE😭 okay that's it BYEE
Okay I just wanna say idk what rantaro looks like when his power is activated but I cannot imagine anything other than a That's So Raven mid-sentence freeze where he looks like the "Monday left me broken" cat. Just like "yeah so anyway I was—👁👁...." and shuichi has just,,,, never questioned it LMFAOO
hiiiiii <3 when i saw this last night i ALSO went deep in the pointy objects tag to find the asks ur referencing but also a littol trip down memory lane ahead of getting started writing. we all know the drill by now all of my ramblings are below the cut <3
first of all (because u sent this one first) ur very right about shuuichi being a little bit of a bozo wrt: noticing rantarou's having a Precog Moment. he's (rantarou) has grown pretty used to getting hit with brief flashes of the future, so he's pretty good at maintaining a poker face when he's struck by one. we see it the sliiiightest bit way back in ch1 while rantarou is driving, and in the middle of speaking he is hit with a vision — it's not something he elaborates on but he does see more or less what ends up happening once the monsters rush the car. naturally makoto and byakuya are good at sussing out when he's having one — and as a very heavy aside, it was a vision of him and shuuichi as best buddies his first day of school that had him pursuing the friendship so ardently, and ultimately got them where they are now. brothers <3
and yes back to those asks!!! they are up to like.....jesus christ late-2019 was over 4 years ago at this point so THEREfore so are the asks. that said, in reading over them all again i don't think there's anything i said way back when that doesn't hold at least slightly true currently (with one exception, being the mystery poly relationship ending, and that's more to do with issues i foresee in incorporating it into the fic itself in a way that makes sense). the ones about nagito though? DEFINITELY still bang all this time later
which leads me into: your questions! there is definitely a level of respect nagito allows towards makoto (byakuya....not So much LOL) but when you know a guy for thousands and thousands and thousands of years.....and he marries the obnoxious rich guy in what is so *obviously* a downgrade for a big five god like himself (not unlike how nagito at least somewhat views hajime as having somewhat "settled" for nagito; i could go on and on about the inner machinations of po!nagito i love that stupid fuck for how comparatively little he's on-screen)...............nagito is a little disappointed. even all this time later. he is not byakuya's biggest fan LMFAO
tbh so much of my early answers on nagito (aside from how he was actually Present the first few chapters, so it made sense) stem directly from the fact he (+ shuuichi) are the direct inspiration for pointy objects as a whole. specifically this video, which i credit ch1 as being the catalyst for pointy objects becoming.......well almost 200k and counting. shuuichi as percy's counterpart and nagito as dionysus the unpaid, eternally cursed camp counselor (with hajime as mr brunner, thankfully hoofless) was the starting point for pointy objects FOR sure, and it's just expanded quite a lot past that over all this time. that video jumpstarted the idea in my sister (who handed it over to me pretty much from the get-go), and the pjo musical is what i loosely structured the lore/plot around, but i think the observations i've heard from readers that pointy objects does well at expanding well past the boundaries of the source material hold true! if you do happen to take a peek at the linked video, though: pretty much the whole of ch2 was very heavily inspired by the song which i think is obvious on reread. that sprite edit started it all fr thank you youtube user evie
and yes: it was nagito who found and subsequently named gonta! 8 years and counting of gonta being camp's designated favorite by literally everybody (nagito) (hajime) (most of the campers) (the mioda triplets) (me, connorlizabeth bazwrites). as is probably obvious [gestures at my entire tumblr] i am gontas #1 ride or die, he's my pride and joy, and i will definitely continue having fun with po!gonta TRUST <3 in the spirit of not saying too much ill leave it at.........gonta enjoyers. we are going to eat good.
#ask#bittercideristaken#pointy objects#this had the exact intended effect im primed and ready to get started on ch21 WOOHOOOO#VALENTINES UPDATE WILL BE REAL BABEY
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TIMs aren’t real.
Part of me wants to apologize that on the rare occasion I update this blog it’s with another of these explainers on trans issues, but then I remember that’s literally what I originally made the blog for. Anyway, today’s subject is how transphobic bigots have divorced themselves so thoroughly from reality that it’s not worth it to try and meet them in the middle and have some sort of argument.
What has this on my mind is a combination of a few things. First, as I’m writing this, trans people are under attack to a really horrific degree all over the world. We’re actually at the point where people are passing bills to make it a felony to leave states in the U.S. where they’re sentencing doctors to life for giving children life saving medication.
But I also saw someone lamenting that bigots are so bad at constructing a coherent argument that just to claim they’re wrong, you first have to completely rewrite what they’re saying to a much more effective bigoted point. And personally speaking, I recently had a weird little surreal exchange, personally. A bigot popped up out of the blue, quoting some Twitter post of mine from about a year ago, with a very choice description of me, and public call for people to mass report me and get me shut down, claiming rather boldly that I was “sharing doctored images making it look like Rowling swore in a thread of kids pics.”
Relaying this story to a friend, she was shocked, and asked me how obvious of a joke my post was. At which point of course I have to explain that no, the whole premise of this is a lie, and the bigot was talking about this post here, part of a long thread where I was referencing an earlier incident in which Rowling did, in fact, drop an F-bomb in a response she had written to a piece of art from a young child. That’s a pretty well-documented event. It’s the big turning point where she really outed herself publicly as a bigot, and I actually have an earlier thread going into a fair bit more detail on the context than what this random troll was pointing at, if anyone’s curious. There’s also a news article on the event from basically every news source you could name, archival sites memorializing it, and if you search for the exact text you’ll see where she reposted it, followed by an apology for how she “accidentally pasted in part of a very un-Ickaboggish message I'd just received,” to put it in her own words. She’s said much worse since, and defenders of hers have been denying reality to defend her with far more zeal than this, including a rather famous case of her strong-arming people into removing messages on social media and in news articles, often with legal threats, about something she had posted to Twitter, which she not only posted, but never took down. I don’t want to directly quote this one because I try to keep this blog fairly family friendly, but if you’re curious, here’s the actual post in question (still online as of my writing this, 3/13/22). And here’s an article on the threats.
But I’m not really here today to talk about Rowling specifically. I’m just getting into this because it’s a perfect example of how transphobes unquestionably base entire arguments on foundations they indisputably are aware are completely at odds with reality. And more to the point, they, at least the subset of “they” which drives transphobic discourse, seem to be incapable of making any arguments that aren’t built on total fantasy. I’ve also observed them, over recent years, making this something of a hardline stance, where people will be severely punished if not fully excommunicated from the cult if they dare to actually use words like “trans woman” in absolutely any context.
Instead, a careful observer will notice they only use terms like “TRA” (or “Trans Rights Activist,” derived from members of several neo-nazi websites/forums calling themselves “Men’s Rights Activists” when arguing that various violent crimes against women should not be considered crimes, “TIM” (or “Trans-Identified Males” but really just to use a male name to refer to women they don’t like, on rare occasion using “TIF” as a variation to refer to men they dislike). Most often though, they’ll just say “man” or sometimes if actually talking about a specific trans woman, like oh, me in the above annecdote, “a man who IDs as a woman.”
Now, a natural instinct people tend to have is to “correct” these bigots, and pretend when they use any of these terms, they clearly meant to say “trans woman,” but that assumes, almost always incorrectly, that they are referring to some actual event involving actual people, and one of those people is a trans woman. The general MO of such bigots though is to just make things up, completely.
Like, I’m a woman. Really, none of my clothes have pockets, my breasts are too big to buy bras off the rack, men talk over me all the time, the last doctor I got to see before the pandemic shut my local health facility down was my gynecologist, everyone assumes I’m going to do all the cooking and cleaning in group settings, you name it. And I’m also trans, which in real life just means I have a couple prescriptions for correcting hormone imbalances and have a much higher than average reason to worry about being assaulted any time I leave my home.
When transphobes actually acknowledge that trans women are something that exist, it’s to throw out totally wild science fiction ideas about us. We have super strength, “breast milk sack implants,” we’re turning people into robots, and apparently we have... exoskeletons?
It’s basically a generalized weird fear of doctors and some cross-contamination from reading about transhumanism (a concept that does not, despite the “trans-” perfix, have anything to do with trans people, nor just to cover all the bases are their connections between either of those, trans fats, Transylvania, public transit, or transubstantiation). And it’s also usually so on its face ridiculous that you can just laugh it off.
Meanwhile, most of the scaremongering they do is about those “TIMs” they’re always going on about. Which they will happily describe as “men who claim to be women” and are also just the most sexually depraved, violent, murderous, general menaces to society. They also, provably, do not exist. Every story one of these people has ever told about a “TIM” is a complete fabrication. Most famously, the last time they made a big push for bathroom policing legislation, they were all swearing up and down that there was rash of violent sexual assaults happening in public restrooms all over the world, at the hands of horrific monsters (who do not exist) using new legislation (which does not exist) to gain access (which nobody has ever been denied) to restrooms in order to commit assault (which there are actual clear records proving has never happened under such conditions). And in more candid moments, they’ll completely own up to making this up.
There’s a lot of people out there who see these weird stories about “TIMs” and start talking as if the bigots in question are talking about trans women, which is just sort of weird. Nobody is ever going to mistake me for a man, and especially not some sort of brash weirdo shouting gibberish at the sky and kicking doors down to assault people. It’s incredibly rude to ever suggest someone would make that mistake. It’s also weird to assume bigots are confused on this point because THEY certainly know full-well that the boogiemen they’re going on about are completely fictitious. There’s a huge pile of amusing court transcripts from when these moral panics get far enough along to have one of these bigots testify, and they always just start stammering when asked to present any sort of evidence, and just kinda flail wildly.
Generally speaking, you should never be involved in any argument with a bigot, and the rare exception is when someone in an important position (say, a judge ruling on a court case, or a politician drafting legislature) has confused that bigot with a rational human being. In such cases, the most important thing to do is prove to that party that the bigot in question is not speaking in good faith, and consistently making claims that do not reflect reality, as quickly as possible. Translating ridiculous statements to more reasonable ones and engaging with those hinders this process, as does allowing the subject to be changed. The thing to do is engage them on the exact words they have used, checked against actual reality. If someone is rambling about “men claiming to be women to assault people in restrooms” in a hearing about discrimination against trans people, the first thing to do is ask what the hell that has to do with discrimination law, the stonewall them on how they’re talking about something men are doing should they try to tie that to trans women, ask them for actual citations of events, shut down any efforts to change the subject by ignoring what they put out there and demanding they answer the questions you are answering, and so on. They’re never going to make a reasonable argument, because they don’t have any, and they’re so unused to being held to a standard where one must be made that they will happily melt down completely, and prove to anyone in the room that they simply have no desire whatsoever to make a true or rational statement, about any subject at all.
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"different young (rebound) hunk on his arm every week…newton geiszler who?" CAN YOU WRITE THIS FIC PLEASE? Hermann as the new heartthrob of the science world, cheekbones that can cut glass, baby gay scientists everywhere using appalling math-related pick-up lines in an attempt to be the booty call of the week. Newton catches a glimpse of him at a fundraiser and the Precursors have to stop him from crying with lust.
so tragically I plotted a whole fic for this and then came back and realized this prompt involves PRU but I liked my idea too much so unfortunately I won’t be filling the PRU part 😔 but I DO love heartthrob hermann sooooooooo. this can be pre-PRU if you want to make it sad actually CW for drinking and mild allusion to not sfw stuff. when will these boys talk about their feelings?
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Hermann doesn’t like going out to bars at the best of times, least of all after he’s had the sort of exceptionally long day he’s had today (fighting his way through airports and hotel lobbies, fielding interview questions, having not even a minute’s break from Newton), but even he will admit that the one Newton has dragged him along to tonight could be far worse. The sorts of bars Newton fancied throughout their stint at the Hong Kong Shatterdome tended to be far hipper, far more becoming for a man of his (and, admittedly, Hermann’s) age, and likely aimed at tourists: pounding music, dark rooms, neon lighting, overpriced drinks, an inability to navigate through throngs of dancing bodies without bumping into at least half a dozen people. For that reason Hermann’s blood practically ran cold earlier that evening when, fresh out of their latest television interview, Newton insisted that Hermann needed to unwind a little. That Newton would help him unwind a little.
Hermann was pleasantly surprised to find that though the music (a live band) is still loud, and drink prices are still inflated, at least he can see Newton, and at least the few people dancing are dancing far away from them. And, well, perhaps it’s made him more amenable to (mostly) matching Newton drink-for-drink, and to indulging him in knocking back not one, but two rounds of the most disgusting-looking pink shots of all time, and— “Look, dude,” Newton declares, tossing an arm around Hermann’s shoulder. He’s shouting and leaning in too-close to Hermann, not because he’s intoxicated, but rather to be heard over the band, which has launched into a rather enthusiastic cover of some song Hermann’s sure he’s heard blaring from Newton’s iTunes before. His stubble tickles the shell of Hermann’s ear. “Just say it with me. It’s that easy. R-e-t-i-r-e-m—”
“We are thirty-five,” Hermann says. “We can’t just—”
“We absolutely can,” Newton says. He nudges his cocktail glass into Hermann’s chest, sloshing a bit of hot pink Watermelon Crush on his neat button-up. Hermann stifles a sigh; the shirt is brand new, bought just that morning for the interview, and will already be needing a wash. And smelling like liquified hard candy for the rest of the evening. “You and me, lying on a beach somewhere, sleeping in until noon every day, learning how to—to fish, or paint, or whatever the hell we want—”
“Not a beach,” Hermann says immediately. “I’m bloody well sick of beaches. Oceans, lakes, bays—no more."
Indulging Newton’s ridiculous little fantasy, even for a moment, is a mistake: Newton’s face lights up in a grin, and he tucks his arm around Hermann’s shoulder to pull Hermann flush against him. Hermann’s barstool wobbles dangerously. “Okay, no beaches. Far away from any coastline. The mountains, then.” It’d be just their luck, Hermann thinks, if the next Breach reopened far away from the ocean, too. Like it followed them somehow. “Let’s move to Switzerland or something and buy a log cabin or a cave and become weird recluses. I’ll learn how to ski, and you can grow a beard, and we can buy all our furniture at Ikea—” He frowns. “Is Ikea from Switzerland? Sweden? I haven’t been since college.”
“I don’t recall ever agreeing to move anywhere with you in the first place,” Hermann says, “let alone retire to do so. What on earth makes you think I’d follow you to Switzerland? I’ve no interest whatsoever in Switzerland.”
“Uh, because we’re best friends?” Newton says. “Anyway, what else would you do?”
“Anything,” Hermann says. He begins to tick off all the possibilities on his fingers while Newton watches him, unimpressed. “I could stay in Hong Kong—I’m sure they’d appreciate help monitoring what remains of the Breach. Or I could move back to England and resume my old teaching post, if they’d have me.” Hermann knows they’d have him; they’ve already sent him at least a dozen emails practically begging him to accept tenure. “Or back to Germany, with my parents.”
“I could totally do all that, too,” Newton says. “Well—not the Germany thing. No offense, dude, but your parents kinda suck. I don’t think I want them as my roommates.”
Hermann decides not to mention that the odds are very high they would not want Newton as a roommate, either. He’s tempted to ask Newton if he meant what he said about them being best friends—for Hermann can’t recall the last time someone called him their best friend, if ever—but Newton’s arm is slipping from his shoulders, and Newton is pulling out his mobile phone and tapping away frantically at it. Hermann feels strangely bereft without his touch. “Okay,” Newton says, his eyes scanning the screen, “Ikea was founded in Sweden, but they moved headquarters in—”
“Excuse me?”
Hermann and Newton both startle, Newton nearly dropping his phone, and the bartender who’d interrupted them smiles apologetically. He’s holding a pint of what appears to be beer. “Sorry to bother you guys,” he says to them, “but this is from the young man over there in the pink shirt.”
At the sight of the drink Newton brightens and puffs out his chest visibly. Bloody perfect, Hermann thinks. Just want Newton needs—another boost to his ego. “No sweat,” Newton says. He tosses his mobile to the bar counter casually and reaches to accept the glass. “Please tell him I’m super flattered, but—”
“Actually, sir,” the bartender interrupts, and—to Hermann’s surprise—slides the glass away from Newton’s grasp and over to Hermann. Hermann takes it without a word, not quite daring to believe it. Down the bar, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the flash of a bright pink shirt, but he can’t quite make himself turn to acknowledge the mystery admirer. Is that rude of him? No one has ever sent him a drink before. He’s not quite sure of the etiquette. “It’s, um, not for you.”
Newton deflates like a popped balloon. A blush spreads across his cheeks, barely visible beneath his freckles, which have come out again in the spring sunlight now that they’re not spending all their time in the Shatterdome basement. Hermann likes the look of them; he thinks they’re sweet, and that if he traced his fingertip across them they’d make a pattern of some sort, like a constellation. Not that he ever would, of course. Newton would surely ridicule him. "Right, duh,” Newton says.
He waits until the bartender is gone to round on Hermann. “Dude!” he says, almost accusatory, “Fourth time this week!”
“It is not,” Hermann protests. It’s weak to his own ears: even he isn’t thick enough to miss the sudden influx of attention he’s gotten since their first television interview last month. Hermann was never exactly popular, never exactly the sort the drive people wild with lust or romantic longing, yet it seems as if he can’t go anywhere these days without turning a few heads (including mid-twentysomething heads, mortifyingly enough) and getting a few cellular numbers slipped into his hand. Yesterday, a young man on the metro asked Hermann if he might like to see a movie some time. The day before that, another man wearing a jean jacket full of enamel pins stepped up to Hermann in a Starbucks and asked him if he could call-cu-later. Last week, a starry-eyed college student stopped Hermann outside a hotel to ask him to sign his Calculus 3 textbook, excitedly telling Hermann he switched degrees to astrophysics not a few days prior after reading an interview with Hermann in a rather obscure pop science magazine, and had blushed when Hermann thanked him. Newton had laughed at that one, and advised the young man to give biology a shot instead. (Newton had gotten very cross when he was promptly ignored, and in referencing the incident later, rather bitterly called the student an annoying little punk.)
This is to say nothing, of course, of the multiple news articles (listicles, as Newton calls them) Newton has forced him to read about himself on something called Buzzfeed, which have apparently helped to cement Hermann’s fifteen minutes of fame. One was called Twelve Times Dr. Hermann Gottlieb Was A Fashion Icon and was accompanied with a rather embarrassing array of candid photos of Hermann. Newton has been particularly incensed over that one.
“It is,” Newton says. “At least third. You know, I think the worst part is that you’re not even getting laid. Dudes are throwing themselves at you left and right—”
“Am I meant to go home with any random stranger who shows me the briefest bit of attention?” Hermann snaps. “I like to think I have somewhat higher standards than that.” I’m not like you, he nearly adds, but decides that it might perhaps be too cruel, especially considering that Newton has not gotten a fraction of the attention Hermann has over the past month. He remembers what it used to be like in the Shatterdome, is all; Newton seemed to like anyone who would give him the time of day. Most of his romances didn’t fare well for that reason.
“I’m just saying you could, and you’re not,” Newton says.
Hermann taps his finger against the pint glass, watching bubbles release from the side and rise to the top. When he finally takes a sip, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s not usually much for drinking. “I don’t like IPAs,” he says.
“I’ll take it,” Newton says, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a grin, “as long as your boyfriend won’t get offended.”
Considering that Newton has only just finished following up his two shots with a cocktail, Hermann questions the decision, but slides him the glass anyway. Newton starts on it at once. Hermann wonders if he’ll need to call them a rideshare back to their hotel tonight; he’s not sure he can manage guiding a intoxicated Newton through the streets of the city on foot, especially not after a day that’s been rather unkind on his hip. “Only I suppose I have trouble believing it,” Hermann admits.
“Believing what?” Newton says.
“That they’re genuinely interested,” Hermann says.
To Hermann’s surprise, Newton snorts. “Nah, dude. You’ve got—” He taps Hermann’s chest, and leaves his hand there. “—sex appeal. You’ve got the, like, soulful eyes, and the movie star eyelashes, and the cheekbones and—” He drags his fingertip along Hermann’s jaw, and Hermann masks his sharp flinch in a cough, hoping Newton can’t feel his face heating up. He doesn’t remember if Newton has ever touched his face before. It feels shockingly intimate. “People think it’s super hot.” He takes another sip of Hermann’s drink. "Plus, you’re so—like—uptight. It makes people wonder what you’re bottling up.”
Hermann arches an eyebrow. “Bottling up?”
“In a sexy way,” Newton clarifies.
He settles his hand back on Hermann’s chest. Hermann licks his lips. Has Newton wondered those sorts of things about him, too? “You’ve had—too much to drink,” he says.
“A little bit,” Newton agrees. “I’m right, though. I like this shirt, by the way, it’s a nice cut on you.” He toys with one of the shirt’s buttons, and when he speaks again it’s in a low voice that makes Hermann’s mouth feel strangely dry. Hermann has never heard it from him before. “Wanna go back to the hotel and rent a movie or something?”
He’s peering at Hermann through his eyelashes, smiling in an odd little way. How terribly close they are to each other, Hermann realizes. He can count every tiny scratch in Newton’s eyeglasses, every fleck of gold in his eyes, every freckle on his cheeks. He wonders if Newton really wants to rent a movie; he wonders what Newton would do if Hermann closed the inch between them, and... “I,” Hermann stammers, gaze fixed on Newton’s mouth (stained pinker from his drink), “er, yes, only—only I feel as if I ought to thank the gentleman who sent me—”
At once, Newton drops away from him. His face hardens. His smile hardens, too. “Oh, right. I forgot,” he says. He inclines his head down the bar. “Pink shirt, right?”
Hermann casts his eyes about, searching for the pink-shirted stranger. When he doesn’t immediately spot him, a small bubble of relief swells within him. Perhaps he left, perhaps he decided he’s not interested in Hermann after all, perhaps Hermann is free to go back to the hotel with Newton and watch a film and argue about retirement and… “Oh, there,” Newton says. A man catches Hermann’s eye and waves timidly. He’s wearing a pink button-up.
“Bugger,” Hermann mutters. His admirer is not unattractive—in fact, he’s the opposite, with curly hair and glasses even thicker than Newton’s—which Newton seems to notice, too. He claps Hermann on the shoulder, hard enough that Hermann sways with it.
“He’s totally cute,” Newton says, “and he’s totally into you. You gotta at least get his number.” He takes another large sip of Hermann’s drink. “Better yet, get yourself laid. You could use it.”
Hermann feels the oddest sense of whiplash. Just a minute prior, he was about to kiss Newton (and he was pretty sure Newton was going to kiss him back), and now Newton is practically throwing him at another man. Hermann does not want to get anyone’s phone number—he wants to fall asleep in his stiff hotel bed to some absolutely awful science-fiction movie Newton picks out. “Newton,” he says, “weren’t we going to—?”
“No biggie, we can do movie night tomorrow instead,” Newton says. He nudges Hermann’s calf with the toe of his boot, and holds out his cane to him. Hermann feels his heart begin to sink. “I won’t wait up for you. Just give me a heads up if he wants to go back to our place, and I’ll make sure to stay out longer.”
“I’m sure it’ll only take a moment,” Hermann says. He’ll make sure it only takes a moment.
“No biggie,” Newton repeats. He raises his glass to Hermann in a mock toast. “Good luck!”
When Hermann looks back over his shoulder, halfway to the man in the pink shirt, it’s to see Newton’s stool vacant, and the back of Newton’s leather jacket swishing out the bar doors.
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Bway songs that vibe w these characters from The Arcana
Thiiiiiiis is gonna be a kinda long post bc I didn’t realize how ridiculously much I had to say. Anyways here u go.
Forever Yours (Once on This Island)- Asra being Ti Moune and trading their life for yours? Protecting you from death??? Also I said they would sing like Isaac Powell earlier so they could be either role tbh.
Hero (Ghost Quartet)- Portia angst abt her fantasies of being an incredible fantastical hero but still feeling like a background character in her own life (comparing to Julian, Tasya, Nadia, etc.)
Made of Stone (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)- Muriel…… pushing ppl away……. Thinking he’s incapable of doing anything good……. H.
As Long as He Needs Me (Oliver!)- more Portia angst sticking around on Julian’s side despite him pushing her away….. she just loves her brother :(
Come What May (Moulin Rouge)- Okay okay I said Julian=Aaron Tveit AND he says Come What May in his route THIS SONG IS LITERALLY HIS CONFESSION SCENE?????
Stronger (Finding Neverland)- Lucio u r so sexc give me your villain arc *makes out w u*
Kristoff Lullaby (Frozen)- Muriel….. realizing he’s in love??? Tears and crying.
Dangerous to Dream (Frozen)- SPEAKING OF FROZEN. Nadia??? Is Elsa. The end.
Why Does She Love Me? (Love Never Dies)- THIS IS LITERALLY JULIAN. THIS IS THE ENTIRE ROUTE. AND WITH PORTIA AS MEG AT THE END TELLING HIM TO RUN AWAY???
The Ball (Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812)- I want to talk about how Lucio and Anatole are so. Yeah they’re both sexy and dumb and blonde so uh.
Heart of Stone (Six)- Nadia. That is all. Get Down from Six is also her.
Right Hand Man (Something Rotten)- I think abt Portia a lot okay.
Til’ I Hear You Sing (Love Never Dies)- is there any way I can convince u this is Asra after MC died.
Before the Parade Passes by (Hello Dolly!)- Nadia coming back to the world after her 3 year nap and taking back her life and her love…… girlboss.
Once Upon Another Time (Love Never Dies)- Julian sweetie it’s okay to accept that some things can’t be changed and the past is in the past we just gotta live in the moment now.
Tango Dancer (Ghost Quartet)- Nadia reflecting on her dream premonitions and life before Lucio’s death.
The Phantom of the Opera (Phantom of the Opera)- They reference it in canon multiple times involving Lucio. “Why so Silent” from Masquerade is also him they LITERALLY quote it.
Something There (Beauty and the Beast)- this one (the show) is also canonically referenced in regards to Muriel so it’s a given.
It Takes Two (Into the Woods)- Julian is an idiot and is just now realizing maybe he needs to let others help him.
Dust and Ashes (Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812)- Julian fears death while also craving it? Drinking a lot and also Russian? Yeah babey.
Ti Moune (Once on This Island)- Asra in any route but his…. “Go and find your love, go and swim the sea, you know where we’ll be.” This concept makes me SCREAM I’m so sad.
Prayer (Ghost Quartet)- okay but this one is MC. “For not remembering, for not being in my body”??? Yeah.
Only Girl in a Material World (Moulin Rouge)- Lucio is hot and also spoils MC God I wish that were me.
In a Place of Miracles (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)- Lucio admitting MC changed him for the better and accepting their new life at the end of his route….. kisses him.
Yeah okay long post my apologies this has been in my drafts forever and uhhhhh hyperfixation OCD moment lolz here u go Tumblr. :3
#the arcana#the arcana game#julian devorak#muriel arcana#lucio morgasson#nadia satrinava#asra alnazar#portia devorak#broadway#musical theatre
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Oh, and more headcannons??? 🥺
Let me reach far into my thoughts and imagination...I came up with something earlier and was like "I need to make a headcanon post about this" but then. immediately forgot what it was. but here's an old one that I'd previously forgotten about and now remember!
I think that Sans and Papyrus are the only skeletons in Undertale--there's a cut line from Sans's musings in WWU ch 3 on how he can mock up a flesh hand to knead dough where he would have referenced a resin that skeletons used to use for that purpose, but which he doesn't have access to due to a lack of skeletons to make the resin. But basically it was used to set around bones in order to give them a smooth surface area for the purposes of filling out especially fancy clothes, securing armor, having less bony hands, or any other flesh-requiring thing. It wasn't meant to be worn for more than a few hours, but would work well for a skeleton trying to knead dough without accidentally punching holes in it due to pointy phalanges, for example. Anyway that's irrelevant to the broader conversation but the point is: classic UT. No skeletons.
But in universes like Underfell, which are much closer to classic RPG form (monsters are 'evil,' don't show any particular attachment to one another unless they appear in pairs/groups, default to fighting rather than making conversation, etc.), there are a ton of skeletons. Skeletons are typically minion monsters in any RPG, meant to be cleared out in early areas before getting to a main boss (usually either a necromancer or Big Skeleton). So I think it stands to reason that in a more hostile culture, the 'battle' species would be more common--in Undertale, a skeleton and a bunny monster might have bunny monster children, because they've got fluff to protect them from the cold and their traits are generally suited to a cheery but chilly small town. But the same pair might have skeleton children in a battle-focused environment, as their magic works to give their children the most advantageous traits for survival, such as "can fight" and "difficult to stab." Plus, all monsters in Underfell are sort of minion monsters to the king, so having more of the classic RPG minion races makes sense. There are probably also more goblins, rat-type monsters, etc. in 'fell universes.
#undertale#headcanon#this is canon in whither then btw#frisk has had a line or two referencing skeleton monsters as a common type of monster#but none have appeared in non-fell aus#which they have dismissed as unimportant mostly#in some universes this guy is a froggit. in others he's a skeleton. dwbi#anywise in uf skeletons have expanded their population generationally to the point that fluffy mammalian monsters are the outlier#but in ut there are v few skeletons#i also assume that monster geneaology is weird bc they don't have like. chromosomes#so a woshua and a vulkin can have children together#and if those children happened to live somewhere super cold they might be born as an ice cap or smth#so just because there aren't a lot of skeletons around doesn't necessarily mean they'll be extinct forever#and it's generally assumed that more skeletons will be born once monsters go to war with humans again
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Book Reviews 3&4: Nancy Drew and the Lilac Inn by Carolyn Keene & Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion by Julie Campbell Tatham
This review’s theme is girl detective books ! Audience age range: roughly 12 and up !
Just as Enid Blyton’s books made me fall in love with magical creatures and faraway lands, detective novels became an obsession during late primary school, with classic lead female characters Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden being my absolute favourites. My school had an extremely small and limited library, and the Nancy Drew books were one of the only decent series there- even with a great chunk of the collection missing. My mother introduced me to Trixie Belden, which she insisted was better than Nancy Drew, though I refused to listen to such a declaration at the time.
Now, though? My opinions have definitely changed.
Nostalgic review
Rating: ★★★★★
From memory, Nancy Drew is a clever, beautiful and well-off girl in her late teens, living with her lawyer father Carson Drew and her housekeeper Hannah Gruen, who has looked after Nancy since her mother’s passing when she was only three. I always enjoyed the dynamic between Nancy and her father, as it was similar to mine with my father, also a lawyer- Carson doesn’t step in unless Nancy needs his help, but he does assist in legal advice when necessary. I also loved Nancy’s friendship with the cousins Bess and George, and liked that her relationship with her ‘special friend’ Ned never got in the way of solving mysteries or hanging out with her friends (‘hanging out’ was practically code for sleuthing in these novels anyway). Overall, my memories of this series amount mostly to exciting searches for missing heiresses, finding beautiful jewels and battling crocodiles in Florida.
On the opposite side of the spectrum is Trixie Belden- rough-around-the-edges thirteen year-old from a poor family living with both her parents and three brothers. Where Nancy has a housekeeper, lives in an affluent suburban neighbourhood and never wants for money, Trixie lives on the outskirts of a small town, both her parents work, and she is constantly reminded of how important it is to work for money as they do not have much of it to spare on mindless things. Nancy is a fairly solitary character, often working alone unless her friends show up, and even then she does most of the legwork; Trixie is also the main sleuth in her series, but her best friend Honey is almost always at her side. While the mysteries were great, the warm friendships in Trixie Belden novels are what I remember best.
Regardless of whatever my thoughts may be after rereading books from these two series, I’ve never ceased referencing either of them and my love of the mystery genre still holds fast even now.
Nancy Drew and the Lilac Inn Review
Post-read: ★★
Synopsis: girl detective Nancy Drew is called to solve a series of odd goings on at her newly engaged friend Emily’s inn, in what seems to be an attempt to prevent Emily and her fiancé from opening. Disaster strikes when her aunt retrieves Emily’s inheritance of diamonds- Emily’s last hope to cover the costs of fixing up the inn- and they are swiftly stolen within the hour. Nancy vows to catch the thief and the intruder and save Emily’s inn from failure.
I struggled in choosing which Nancy Drew book to reread for this review, and after reading through multiple rankings lists I decided on the Lilac Inn because it ranked highly on every list. I now wish I had just gone with Crocodile Island anyway… at least there was something snappy about it. In between the bomb, the theft, the doppelganger, the underwater fake-shark, the kidnapping, the spear-gun attack- I think I’ve made my point. There’s far too much going on, and if it was well-written I would be okay with it, really I would, but it’s all so blandly articulated that half the time I had to reread just to make sure I’d read correctly what nonsense was occurring at any given time.
Straight out the gate, I just want to say how shocking the writing was- that’s shockingly bad, by the way. If I thought Enid Blyton’s work was stunted, well, this was far, far worse. Especially since it lacks the excuse of being written for young children. It was incredibly difficult to push through in the slower parts, and I must admit I basically skim-read the lead up parts to the action sequences (which were incredibly minimal compared to the gnashing crocodile teeth I longed for, but alas). Sadly for me, Bess (my old fave), George and Ned were not present at all, and I cannot remember if they had actually been introduced that early in the series because they are not mentioned once.
I did really like the concept of the story, and the element of Nancy having a creepy doppelganger posing as Nancy to cause mischief (she has several over the series) was fun, even more so that said doppelganger was an actual actress and quite ruthless in her attempts to steal Emily’s diamonds- I love a morally-corrupt pretty female villain as much as the next person, after all. There is a romance teased between Nancy and a young man staying at the inn, a young man who continuously seems to be in the same room as the diamond thief messing with Emily’s inn, but ultimately both never amount to anything. This hardly surprised me given the book is written in the thirties, and Ned and Nancy never do anything but attend dances together the entire series, but still, come on. He could’ve at least stolen the diamonds to add some spice to his useless appearances.
It’s possible that were a very talented scriptwriter to take this book and make it into a movie it could work out a lot better than it does on paper- provided the casting was done well. The sets would be interesting, and I think the creepiness of the ‘ghost’ in the orchard and the diving scenes would translate a lot better on camera. Normally I’m not one to nominate live actions of novels for no reason, but this thought kept recurring as I struggled to get through the writing.
Characters who aged well: Nancy is smart and weirdly good at everything (they don’t explain why she knows how to do all the things she does, but diving and freeing herself from bonds seems to be easy enough for her. Given male characters are always allowed to be perfect without training, I’ll allow it). For a female character written in the 30s she has plenty of agency and does not once rely on a man’s help to do anything, which is why I always enjoyed her books. Carson Drew also aged well- not present that often, but useful without being interfering, and his trust in his daughter is refreshing. As for the other main characters in the series… they didn’t even show up in this book so I can’t really comment on this.
Characters who aged badly: plot twist- I’m adding Nancy here too. She is a little too perfect, too polished, a common criticism by modern readers, though at the time of publication was her main selling point. Additionally, earlier editions of the series featured racist comments made by Nancy, although those have since been taken out. However, the publisher and creator of the first books was not a very pleasant person, so I find myself able to separate that from Nancy’s character.
Favourite scene/quote: ‘The article went on to tell that Nancy had just completed a course in advanced skin diving in the Muskoka River, and that she had finished first in total points in the twenty student group’.
I find this quote amusing because there is really no need for Nancy to be good at every single thing, and this is a good example of the many times throughout the series that Nancy is the ‘best’ at a very random activity that is often never mentioned again.
As for my favourite scene, though nothing interesting actually ends up happening in the orchard, I did like the eerie setting of Nancy dressing up as a ghost and chilling behind a tree for a while (okay it was partially eerie, mostly just oddly comedic). The actress/impostor posing as Nancy provided a few good scenes, too, but for the main villain of the story she was hardly in as many scenes as she should’ve been in.
After doing some research, I discovered something most interesting: Nancy was written with significantly more character by the original ghost-writer of the series, a woman named Mildred Wirt Benson, who wrote Nancy ‘embodying qualities that she wished she had’- but the publisher Edward Stratemeyer did not want a bold female character, and she was rewritten with similar dialogue but now accompanied with ‘dainty’ verbs to sweeten her words. Stratemeyer was also known for his beliefs that women belonged in the kitchen, and the only reason he created Nancy in the first place was to capitalise on young female readers who wanted their own equivalent of the Hardy Boys.
With all of this in mind, it’s very possible that the Nancy from my memories is a mix of the older and new editions, which allowed Nancy more personality as the series went on, no longer needing to confirm to the sexist expectations of the 1930s. And despite these origins, Nancy Drew aged quite well as an unintended feminist icon: she solves her mysteries alone and rarely needs Ned’s help at all; in fact, most of the time, Nancy is the one doing the saving. It’s nice to think that, almost one hundred years later, Mildred Wirt Benson’s version of Nancy is the one being kept alive, both on paper and onscreen.
Trixie Belden and the Secret of the Mansion Review
Post-read: ★★★★★
Synopsis: energetic teen Trixie Belden’s boring town of Sleepyside is turned upside down when a rich new family moves onto the property opposite her own, an old miser winds up in hospital and his empty mansion is suddenly inhabited by a runaway boy, and a missing fortune is waiting to be uncovered.
Whewww.
This was a massive breath of fresh air after the Lilac Inn! After being so unimpressed by both Blyton and Keene’s writing, Tatham’s writing restored my faith in my childhood judgement. Her words flowed well and the conversation between the characters was very natural. The blank slate characters in the Lilac Inn were showed up by the animated and multiple-dimensional characters in the Secret of the Mansion, and I never once felt the need to rush myself through the chapters.
Unlike my method of choosing a Nancy Drew book, I simply decided on reading the first Trixie book for this review. While I almost went for a later book where all the main characters had been introduced, I couldn’t remember how Trixie first met Honey and Jim, which I felt was pretty important to her character. I’m very glad I did. Even in the first book, Trixie endures so much character development (contrasting very strongly with Nancy’s flawless existence). Longing for a friend, Trixie takes herself up the hill to the newly habited mansion to introduce herself and her little brother Bobby, who she is babysitting to earn money to buy herself a horse. There she meets rich girl Honey Wheeler, a sickly and sheltered but sweet girl of the same age, whose parents pay little attention to her. Things fall into place with all the expected luck of a teen heroine- Honey’s governess is a lovely woman who wants Honey to befriend Trixie and offers to look after Bobby, and of course Honey’s stables are now filled with horses and a stable hand who can teach her to ride.
But for every easy thing comes an opportunity for Trixie to grow: she comes to admire Honey’s bravery after previously being irritated by her fear of trying outdoor activities; she ignores the stable hand’s orders not to ride the stallion and falls as a result, leading to her having to work to regain his trust and also being taught the valuable lesson to recognise her own limits; finally, as much as Trixie hates looking after little Bobby, when he is bitten by a snake Trixie is resourceful and quick on her feet in helping him, keeping him well enough until a doctor and other adults arrive.
Rather like the Lilac Inn, the mystery of the story centres on the hidden will to a supposed fortune of the elderly man who lived in the old mansion not far from Honey’s new home. On a whim, Trixie nags Honey into accompanying her to snoop around the building, leading to their discovery of the old man’s nephew Jim hiding there. By the end of the book, the girls have helped Jim to find the will and safely escape his abusive step-father. Later in the series, Jim is adopted by the Wheeler family, and also becomes Trixie’s primary love interest (I love that this relationship is not at all rushed either).
The reading level for the Trixie Belden series is listed as grade 3 and above, but I had no problems being completely involved and intrigued by the storyline and characters as a twenty-three year old. I think I’ll continue to read the series on my own time, as I always enjoyed the full character line-up developed after a few books in.
Characters who aged well: Trixie! If my praise during this review didn’t make clear enough, she’s a wonderful character with great development. Honey and Jim are also solid characters, and Bobby and Trixie’s parents are well-written too- supportive and kind, but realistic concerning raising Trixie to be a responsible kid. Also going to add that Trixie’s group of best friends- self-named the Bob-Whites of the Glen and consisting of her two older brothers Brian and Mart, Honey, Jim and the later additions of Dan and Di- have a strong presence and very distinct personalities when they show up in the later novels.
Characters who aged badly: nobody! All the side characters were well done, including the villain. He wasn’t over-the-top by any means, his abuse of Jim was both emotion and physical in a realistic manner that concerned the adults around him enough to comment on it without actually taking proper action to help him, as it often goes. I appreciated the author’s ability to write a male character the vulnerable one, to recognise what was wrong about the situation, and to gladly accept help from two girls younger than him.
Favourite scene/quote: “‘serves him right,’ Trixie said, wiping her grimy hands on her rolled-up blue jeans. ‘The mean old miser. You should have left him lying in the driveway, Dad.’”
An earlier quote in the book, this sets the tone for Trixie’s character: she’s messy, no-nonsense and cheeky. For a female character written in 1948 I found this quite amusing. There’s none of the internalised misogyny that often popped up in ‘tomboy’ characters of the time: Trixie just is what she is, and she’s great.
A standout scene would be Trixie sucking the venom from her brother’s snakebite to save him, and the chapters focused on the developing friendship with Honey and Jim while the two teach Trixie how to handle horses is also enjoyable.
Overall verdict:
My mother was right, Trixie Belden is far better than Nancy Drew in every category I can think of. I wish that the series had gained the popularity that Nancy Drew did, because it would make for a fun movie or television show. There is an eighteen year gap between the publication of the first novel from both series, and both heroines saw many more books written after that. Nancy Drew is so persistent, however, that multiple movies and even a recent CW show have been made, though it is not very accurate to the books at all. Even now, modern-day setting Nancy Drew mysteries are still being released under the Carolyn Keene pseudonym, showing her unending mythical status.
I still love Nancy, bad writing and all, but in all fairness, Miss Trixie deserves a cut of the nostalgic hype surrounding the girl-detective genre. I’d also like to bask in the poetic justice of Nancy not only remaining a more iconic character than the Hardy Boys, but also becoming more feminist as time goes on. I’m sure the publisher is rolling in his grave!
#nancy drew#carolyn keene#trixie belden#girl detective#fiction#university project#nostalgia#feminism#female characters
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The Crucified Occultum
Actually it’s the Brazen Serpent. Actually it’s--
Okay, so to start, @jenngeek -- hope you don’t mind me tagging you but I’d rather credit on something like this since it’s only half-question, and more ones of your own to expand on (which I will welcome after I talk a bit) and a lot of great ideas-- but you got my ticker-box thinking on an angle I haven’t *really* broken down yet.
I’m throwing this out there because I am LATE to the party and want to see if I’m retreading ground, but— it’s pretty easy to map the progress of seasons 14/15 to Qabalistic tree of Life, @Minerva has written extensively on it. But that is the SHOW’s progress up the tree to Kether(back to the godhead)— the characters within the story are actually trapped in the boxed Universe as created by Chuck. The characters cannot progress up, languishing forever in a perfect cell in heaven or becoming corrupted in Hell and, eventually, shipped off to the Nothing. (Also Purgatory is it’s own thing.) Which brings me to this image I saw earlier today from Atomic Monsters.
And it hit me, what if THAT is where this is leading? The creation of a system, a branching tree, that allows for souls to pass between the worlds, eventually beyond the Empty into true Nothingness? And what do we know grows when an Angel casts out their Grace?
Has anyone written anything along these lines?
So again, while I welcome discussion from you (or anyone else) on this front let me pitch some corresponding ideas on this matter since you’re also somewhat versed in gnostic thoughtbox and they may rattle a few ideas around.
First, I reference (not just you, but readers) to my “Heaven meta”, which is really more of an Axis Mundi meta (x) but people are more likely to mentally lock on Heaven and the association can’t be minimized or overlooked. Once people’s brains have been putrefied to a gooshy smooshy new reduced beginning to roll forward from that, and assuming they’ve read any of my Tree of Life angled posts (like this one x) to understand what you’re talking about, and how mappable our story progression IS, I’m going to sort of ask everyone to slam this collective learning together while focusing on Jack and the Snake (x)
While I have already heavily referenced the overlap of the dialogue with this Corpus Hermeticum (x) which will continue to impact our story moving forward, eg, Death and Deathlessness among other issues, I’m going to point to a great deal of collective issues and one I actually briefly referenced back in S14 (such as the ep 300 cover and Aesclepius x, or Jack’s general orphic imagery x ), there’s a bit of a new highlighter to take to this now that we have the literal serpent, the literal tree, and this Atomic Monsters shot.
So again, take all that above stuff, put it in a shake and bake bag and let your newly molten brains attach to it in a new shape.
In its most simple form, the Serpent is a HUGE alchemical symbol. There is the Ouroboros stuck in its cycle, swallowing its own tail. There is the crucified serpent nailed to the tree which has christ-figure resonance. And, ultimately, there is the Brazen Serpent, that climbs the tree that a wrathful god would have hung it ON. The Brazen Serpent also even has a “derogatory” name of Nehushtan you can find a bunch of history on that basically, YHVH commanded destroyed as an idol, etc etc, you know the dogma game.
But the thing is, the tree of life and the tree of knowledge have a great deal of systemic overlap, so you WILL find images like this:
Notice some familiar names even from early in the season? Barring Lilith clonking you on the fucking head, like me yelling on about Belphegor and Thagirion (x)(x)? Other stuff ringing some dingalings? Maybe? Either way, this tree shows both the Sephiroth and their Qlipoth in inversion, but notice something coyly climbed around it?
Remember all of my talk of the serpent as the reflection of the shadow in the waking world, who revealed the soul to man as formerly empty vessels, and thus gave them the right of Good vs Evil? (Or Good vs the Absence of Good, with Good = Soul; the only true good, and Good is All and God, /ignore the demiurge.)
Cool, so we’re getting there mostly, but now I point to my stuff about the Occultum.
Weird jump, right?
In order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you; visit the interior parts of the earth so as to find the hidden stone/soul.
The Axis Mundi--the Anima Mundi--the world soul, the axis or crossroads of man and divinity--The Garden. (*flashbacks in 3 years of posts about Shadow, Animus and Anima*)
For some, it’s god’s throne room, for others, it’s Eden. People see what they want to see here.
This is the garden, man’s beginning.
God may have made the first box, but what is the tree from which the serpent hung? What is this perfect core world that was hidden away? What grows up and descends away from it?
What is the mundi, if it changes on what we see it? If man all has their own right to a throne, and many have even asked if they could visualize it as a tree with branches, perhaps this will actually *help* some people.
Who here has heard of Yggdrasil, for example? Honestly, Big Same Energy. In this case, Jormungand just got a bad PR rep because then the gods didn’t want you finding out what’s outside of the branches you’re clinging onto. Make sense? STAY IN UR BRANCH LANE, HYOOMINS. It’s BIG AND SCARY OUT HERE. That’s why angels are totally here to “protect” you and don’t like souls wandering free.
While returning to the Empty is a possible nihilistic point of view depending on if they take the more dark gnostic road, a hermetic avenue more has freeing the Garden, the Occultum, and the Throne from the demiurge’s hands and leaving it to man himself, so he can traverse the tree and garden freely once he is done with the training wheels of his physical life and is ready to Move On.
---
Anyway thoughts on that, Jenn, if you please. Or anyone else, but that’s... where my brain keeps landing on. Right down to Chuck wanting them boxed into the dark terrestrial level alone with all that white mundi space outside of them and Cas locked beyond it and the tree hanging in the background, outside of their reach.
I think there's extra interesting note of the angel feathers in front of the tree still being inevitably accurate, but more shortsighted. Chuck's ending vs when Deanbobble picks up that pencil as his own, Sam too I'm sure but it's closer to Dean.
To know Cas is reborn before the Garden in the Mundi would require leaving the box.
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I’ll also say there are forms of thought where Shadow-Return are less nihilistic, such as uh, well there’s a Thing in the Good Place for example, but that’s literally after thousands of jeremy-bearimy time loops of eternity over-upon itself where people have explored doing every possible thing they could ever dream of and imagine and decide to return to the Universe that way.
But I don’t think SPN is going to yield that kind of framework, as much as the possibility OF those infinite Jeremy-Bearimies with loved ones. Those Jeremy Bearimies will be the evergreen story afterward to figure out their adventures in and their mishaps and everything else figuring out what it really means to be an eternal mangod. And some characters still have a life to finish on earth. Realistically, they’re still in their first Jeremy-Bearimy. So even if the proverbial Door is there, I don’t think anyone’s taking it for a very... very long time.
#supernatural#spn#meta#my meta#pagan life#tree of life#serpent#cosmogenesis#involution#speculation#souls
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What’s in a retcon, anyway?
The more I think about, the less I believe that comic book writers feel compelled to be bound by earlier writing. Unless an editor is keeping them under their thumb to get coherent writing – and if DC had that, things wouldn't be such a mess – it seems to me they are happy to blend their personal variant of a canon backstory. I will present a number of examples to support my hypothesis.
Pre-Crisis, Marv Wolfman wrote Dick saying he was Robin from age 8 (New Teen Titans #39, 1984), and he’s about 19 at the time.
New Teen Titans # 39. By Marv Wolfman, art George Pérez. (1984)
When Crisis on Infinite Earths reached Batman, Jim Starlin wrote the retcon that said that Dick was Robin for six years, presumably from age 13 to 19. (Batman # 416, 1987). This version also included that Bruce fired Dick from Robin, but more on that later.
Batman # 416. By Jim Starlin, art Jim Aparo and Mike DeCarlo. (1987)
And then Marv Wolfman wrote Batman Year Three (Batman # 436–439, 1989), and all of a sudden, it was ten years since Dick's parents were killed when Jason had recently died. That has to imply that Dick was Robin for longer than six years, right? And that Dick was about ten when he came to Bruce.
The following year, 1990, Dennis O'Neal wrote an illustrated short story about Dick's origin where he was ten when his parents were murdered. (The Glimpse. In Secret Origins vol 2 # 50, 1990)
Dennis O'Neal, by the way, was the editor of Batman # 416 and co-editor of Batman Year Three (Batman 436–439). He should be the guy to keep track of details like this, shouldn't he?
Then we have Chuck Dixon's version of Dick's origin in Robin vol 2 Annual # 4 (1995). This retcon includes that Dick spent time at a youth centre before he came to Bruce (the "juvie origin"), but his age is never mentioned. He doesn't look old enough to be 13, in my opinion.
The next decade, Devin Grayson had Dick say, in at least two different issues, that he was orphaned at 8. (Batman: Gotham Knights # 21. By Devin Grayson, art Roger Robinson and John Floyd (2001), and Nightwing vol 2 # 76. 2003) Just as in (the Pre-Crisis) NTT # 39.
Nightwing vol 2 # 76. By Devin Grayson, art Mike Lilly and Andy Owens. (2001)
Does that mean Devin Grayson also intended to rewrite other retcons that came after the Crisis – so that Dick wasn't fired from Robin and/or Dixon's "juvie origin"?
It’s difficult to say, since she never did write her own version of Dick’s origin. I can't remember her Nightwing run mentioning either how Dick left Robin or what had happened before he moved in with Bruce. (Actually, I can't remember any writer, besides Chuck Dixon himself, referencing the "juvie origin".) But Devin Grayson wrote Dick talking about being left in an orphanage in Gotham Knight # 21, in a context where he surely would have said “left at the youth centre” if she had ment to stick with Dixon’s version.
Batman: Gotham Knights # 21. By Devin Grayson, art Roger Robinson and John Floyd. (2001)
After Flashpoint, in the new origin story, Dick was 15 when he was orphaned. (Nightwing vol 3 # 0, 2012) But in Rebirth Batman # 54 (2018), by Tom King, Dick is drawn way younger in a flashback, and he’s been shown younger in the Nightwing title too.
Two more examples of canon jumping all over the place are Jason Todd's origin and how Dick left Robin to become Nightwing. Dick originally left by his own decision, because he felt Robin was the junior partner to Batman while he had outgrown that, but the Post-Crisis on Infinite Earth retcon was that Bruce fired Dick. First, in Batman # 408, because he got scared when the Joker shot Robin. Later, in Chuck Dixon's version (in Nightwing: Secret Files and Origin, and Nightwing Year One, Nightwing vol 2 100–106), Bruce fired Dick at ostensibly because Robin wasn't available enough when Batman needed assistance.
Again, after Dixon, I can't remember any writer referencing that Dick should have been outright fired as Robin.
Jason Todd was introduced as a strawberry blond, circus kid Dick Grayson clone but after Crisis on Infinite Earths he was a black-haired street kid. And when Dick originally left Robin, it was his choice to let Jason become Robin. Post-Crisis, Batman made Jason Robin – and while Dick might not have been on good terms with Bruce, he did accept Jason as Robin.
Fast forward to the 2010s. When Grant Morrison wrote Batman, and Batman and Robin vol 1, he re-introduced Jason Todd with red-blond hair – but not his Pre-Crisis personality (the Dick Grayson clone.)
Morrison's era Jason Todd was the street kid and he had always liked trouble which made him "a juvie" (Batman and Robin vol 1 # 23, 2011, written by Judd Winick). In the same issue, there is a flashback that shows that Dick was on good terms with Bruce and working with Batman and JasonRobin – as if it were the Pre-Crisis version.
Batman and Robin vol 1 # 23, by Judd Winnick, art Guillem March and Andrei Bresson. (2011)
In the very last issue of Batman before Flashpoint and New 52 (Batman # 713, by Fabian Nicieza, 2011) a flashback seems to confirm that it was Dick's decision to leave Robin.
Batman # 713. By Fabian Nicieza, pencillers Steve Scott, Daniel Sampere, Andrei Bressan. 2011.
The Morrison era Batman was, very much, built on a mix of Pre- and Post-Crisis material.
Pre-Crisis, by the way, Jason Todd was the first boy that Bruce adopted, and that was still the case when he was killed Post-Crisis. But he's been referred to as his ward in Batman: Gotham Knights # 44 (2003, written by Devin Grayson), as well as Batman and Robin vol 1 # 23 (2011, written by Judd Winick). (I'm sure other writers/other issues have put Jason down as adopted son...)
Batman and Robin vol 1 # 23, by Judd Winnick, art Guillem March and Andrei Bresson. (2011)
Neither Devin Grayson nor Grant Morrison wrote, as far as I can remember, a "visible" retcon where their ideas of the character's backstories are laid out. But it's nevertheless clear that they did not work with the same version of the character's history as writer/s who preceded them.
Then there's Robin Dies at Dawn from 1963 (Batman # 156), where Batman took part in a psychological experiment. That was canon and the unnamed doctor, who seemed pretty harmless at the time, became a major adversary, Doctor Hurt, during Grant Morrison’s run. Doctor Hurt has also been active as a Nightwing villain in Rebirth.
Batman # 673. Written by Grant Morrison, pencil Tony S. Daniel, ink Jonathan Glapion and Sandu Florea. (2008)
Nightwing vol 4 # 19. By Tim Seeley, art Javier Fernandez and Minkyu Jung. (2017)
Another recent example of cherrypicking is Tom King who, in his Batman/Catwoman mini series, uses the character Andrea Beaumont/Phantasm from the DC Animated Universe (she was created for an animated film in 1993). Of course, she's far from the first character who has been created in the animated universe and made their way over to comic book canon.
Tom King also used Hush in Batman vol 3 # 80 (2019), even though the man was last seen being killed in another universe (Batman: Prelude to the Wedding, Nightwing vs Hush, 2018).
Batman: Prelude to the Wedding. Nightwing vs Hush. By Tim Seeley, art Travis G Moore.
Sam Humphries, who wrote Nightwing vol 4 for a short period – I don’t know why he left early – had plans to use Dick’s Uncle George, whose one and only appearance was in 1944, in Batman vol 1 # 20. This is from an interview on Batman-news.com: https://batman-news.com/2017/11/27/a-nightwing-before-christmas-an-interview-with-sam-humphries/
SH: I will… I will say that’s a very intriguing pick. I’ve not thought about that. I do have a list of characters I want to bring in on the run, most of which I’ve gotta keep close to my chest.
JY: Sure, sure.
SH: You know, I do… Dick Grayson has an uncle, George Grayson, and there’s a story I want to tell about him that I’m really excited about.
In conclusion. It seems to me that official comic book writers are just as prone to pick and choose from earlier canon and disregarding whatever retcon they dislike as us ordinary fans...
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Confessions (Nolan Patrick)
Warnings: fem!reader -- I usually try and keep the things I write as neutral as possible, but I have this image of an older male reporter asking about a "lovely lady" so I figured I'd stick with it since it was in my head. Sorry if you're masc or nb!
~~~
You watched from home as post-game interviews started after Philly won 5-1, your best friend Nolan being responsible for two of those goals. Nolan was the third interview aired, and you could see the pride and happiness in his eyes and body language. He might not be one to smile a lot, but you can read his emotions from other queues he gives off. And you're proud of him--he did a wonderful job on the ice tonight, and you were excited to spend the night eating takeout and watching your favourite show with him as was your post-game tradition.
You were filling out your online takeout order when his interview came on, and as you rushed to finish your order so you could pay attention to Nolan on your TV, you almost missed one of the questions a reporter asked him which took him by absolute surprise. Most questions were about how he played or how he felt when he scored, not about you.
"So we noticed you with a lovely lady on Carter Hart's Instagram story yesterday. Is there a chance the fans will get to meet this new girlfriend of yours soon?" a reporter asked. You knew they meant you. You had gone to a small barbecue Nolan hosted yesterday to commemorate the start of the season and the end of the warm weather, and you knew what story the reporter was referencing. It was you, Nolan, TK, and Carter standing and joking around. You can't say you weren't hopeful--to the untrained eye the look Nolan is giving you looks like one of love and adoration. But you knew better--it's just the look he gives to you, one of his best friends.
Nolan just looks at the reporter like they have 3 heads, before snapping out of it and clearing the air, "That's Y/N, fans have seen her before. She's just one of my best friends and a close friend of the team." As he backs away from the mic to give Claude the chance to step in, the reporter insists there's more.
"But the way you're looking at her, it's easy to assume there's something else." Nolan looks at Claude who just took his spot at the mic, Claude thankfully stepping in and saying that Nolan explained your relationship and that's all there is to it.
Nolan mouths a thank you to him before heading off to the locker room to change and head to your place. He knows you were watching the interviews. He knows you're going to bring it up because you're not one to shy away from awkward situations like this. He just hopes he doesn't blow his cover and crack the lid open on just how much he does have feelings for you.
You frown a little hearing his response. You had hoped, just a little, that maybe you were right and that he was actually looking at you with the same kind of feelings you had for him. But you knew from the beginning of your feelings for him growing that you weren't his type and that he would forever be just a friend, just your best friend. And you were okay with that, he was an amazing best friend and it wasn't something you were willing to give up for the sake of your feelings.
---
You heard Nolan's special knock on your door just as you're getting plates out for your takeout that had arrived a few minutes earlier. You open the door for him, a smile on your face as you see him standing there with a few drinks and snacks from the convenience store three doors down.
"You know you can just come in. I leave the door unlocked for you," you say as he heads in and places everything down on the coffee table.
"But then you wouldn't know if it was me or a stranger breaking in," he comments back when heading over to you and the takeout in the kitchen, half-serious and half-joking. You nudge him with your elbow before grabbing your food and heading for your couch, Nolan close behind.
"Congrats on the win tonight, you did amazing," you beam at him before digging into your food.
"Thanks. Let's just hope this luck continues all season," he replies between bites.
"It's not just luck, it's also skill. Which you have a lot of. You'll do great."
"You're too sweet. I could be the worst player in the league and you'd still tell me I'm the best," he jokes at you, a soft smile gracing his features from just enjoying being around you.
"You know that's not true. I'd still say you're good, but not the best. That honour goes to TK no matter how good or bad you are," you retort, prompting a shallow glare from the man next to you. He knows you're saying it as a joke to irritate him, but with how much you've been using TK as your way of teasing him, he can't help but think you might have a thing for his friend.
"He likes you too, you know," Nolan mutters, not realizing he said it aloud.
"Who? TK? And why did you say 'too?'" you ask, confused by the entire statement.
"Yeah, Teeks. He's liked you for a while but wouldn't say anything because of how close we are."
"Oh... well that's...unfortunate..." you trail off. TK is the only one in the team circle who knows you like Nolan, and that's only thanks to your tired inebriated self spilling it one night during a post-win celebration with the team. You didn't even remember saying it, but TK coming up to you the next time he saw you and teasing you with 'Soooo, Patty huh?' while nudging you incessantly with his elbow let you know you slipped up hard.
"Why is it unfortunate?" Nolan asks, snapping you out of thought.
"Because I don't like him back that way. And he knows who I like. I feel terrible now," you confess with an exasperated sigh.
"He'll get over it, he said it was just a small crush. But wait--you don't like him? Then why-" Nolan stops, not wanting you to know how much your teasing got to him.
"Why what?"
"Why do you always use him to compare me to?"
"Because he's your best friend and the person you're closest to in the league. If you were closer to Claude or Hartsy I'd use them, but you and TK are joined at the hip so I use him. It hammers in the tease better when you use someone close to the person.
"But you know I don't mean it, right? Yeah, he's a great player, but so are you. You're my favourite player, always have been always will be. I don't actually think he's better than you. You're both amazing and have your strengths on and off the ice," you continue when you notice the look of hurt in his eyes. Thankfully, your reassurance helps ease him a bit, but you can still see something there, something you can't quite read.
"I know, I know. I know you're joking when you say it, I guess you just used him so much recently that I jumped to the conclusion that you liked him. And to be honest, I was a little insulted that you didn't tell your best friend--me--you liked him. And now I'm insulted you haven't told me who you like and even TK knows," Nolan jokes.
You turn away from Nolan with a blush on your cheeks, hoping he doesn't notice. "It's not that easy. It only came out when I was drinking with you guys last season, otherwise no one would know," you say, trying to put as much authority in your voice as you can despite how flustered you feel.
---
As the night goes on and you finish your food, you and Nolan progressively get closer on the couch and start cuddling, as is normal. But you can't focus on the show as you notice how rigid and uncomfortable Nolan feels, like he doesn't want you laying on his shoulder. You move away to give him space, causing him to pause the show.
"Is everything ok?" he asks, a concerned look on his face.
"What's going on? Do you not want me to lay on you? I can move back to my spot if you don't want me near you," you say defeatedly.
Nolan pulls you back to him and wraps his arm around you, rubbing your arm lightly. "That's not it at all. I'm sorry, it's just... the interview today got to me a little bit and you haven't said anything about it. Normally when something awkward like that happens, you make a joke about it and we move on but you haven't said anything and...I'm sorry it's stupid I shouldn't be so nervous," Nolan carries on.
"I didn't say anything because you kind of said all there was to say during the interview, plus the conversation about TK made it kind of awkward to say anything about it or joke about it anyway," you answer him, looking down at your lap to avoid looking at him. He made it clear you're just a friend and you don't want to have this conversation. You already avoided it once today, you're hoping you can avoid it again.
"Awkward how?" Nolan asks, looking at you intensely.
"A reporter shipped you with me and you shipped me with TK. It's just been an awkward situation altogether. How did you feel getting asked that?"
"It was definitely surprising, especially because you're on my Instagram already."
"You know, my friend from work made a comment about how you're looking at me in Hart's story, too. I laughed it off because she's always been shipping us. It's how you've always looked at me," you say, either hoping for him to change the subject because he's uncomfortable or for him to say what you've wanted him to say for almost two years now.
Nolan just looks at his lap, an extra dusting of red appearing on his cheeks and neck. After sitting there in silence for what feels like hours, he manages to speak barely above a mumble. "You know, I'm glad Claude was at the mic and answered that second comment for me. If I was there, I would've frozen like a deer in headlights and would've given way too much away."
"What do you mean 'give too much away...?'" you ask cautiously.
"I... your friend and the reporter, they're not entirely wrong." Nolan confesses. Your eyes snap up to look at him. He notices and immediately starts backpedaling. "I mean-- no wait-- that's not-- fuck."
"No, what do you mean?" you press. 'Well at least this will answer all your questions fair and square,' you think to yourself, knowing you were already in deep.
"I... what do you think I mean," Nolan mutters, thinking he just messed everything up.
"I'm not sure what I think you mean, but I know what I'm hoping you mean," you confess, causing Nolan to look up at you curiously. "I'm hoping you mean the same thing as why I couldn't just tell you, my best friend I tell everything to, who I like."
A light enters Nolan's eyes for the first time since this conversation started and he leans in closer to you. All he can muster is a small "I-" as he alternates his look between your eyes and your lips.
You were never one to be as bold as you were about to be. But you two were here, and there was no turning back, and he was leaning in, and he was looking at your lips, and you just couldn't hold back anymore. So you filled in the remaining space between your lips and kissed him with all the passion of your feelings for him over the last two years.
You didn't expect him to reciprocate. Or to take your face in his hands and pull you closer. But he did, and at this point in time everything felt perfect.
#hockey#hockey scenario#hockey imagine#hockey drabble#hockey writing#philadelphia flyers#philadelphia flyers scenario#philadelphia flyers imagine#philadelphia flyers drabble#philadelphia flyers writing#nolan patrick#nolan patrick scenario#nolan patrick imagine#nolan patrick drabble#nolan patrick writing
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I Burn: A Review
I'm not good at reviewing things but I thought I should say some things about (G)I-DLE's 4th mini album 'I Burn' since this is the first comeback I'll be witnessing as a Neverland. I know next to nothing about the technicalities of music, so I'll say what I want to say as easy as I can say it.
If you come across this post, please give the album a listen before reading my review. I recommend listening with headphones/headset! Here’s the link to the album on Spotify.
#1: HANN (Alone in Winter)
The first song on the abum is called HANN, which is a continuation to their previous song also called HANN. HANN 2.0 starts out exactly like it promises: chilling. A few piano beats that goes lower with each beat, a lone high beat followed by a lone low beat, all the while a strong wind blows in the background. It gave me the feeling of being isolated.
The song talks about a neverending winter after a breakup (one that happened preceding the events of HANN 1.0). Based on the lyrics, the main character seem to be in the middle of a very long winter, alone for a very long time. The line ‘Is it my greed to wait for your spring again?’ gives me the impression that the main character has not completely moved on from the ex yet, but there is an obvious negative feeling towards this ex as well.
I can tell that this song is supposed to be from the perspective of someone who is hurting, with Yuqi and Miyeon’s verses followed by a melodious shout (?) that seem to convey hurting. I can’t explain it very well but I can feel the emotions by the way they sing the lyrics.
The song is dominantly accompanied by piano, whose melody goes perfectly with the message the lyrics are communicating. Shuhua’s melodic ‘Lalala lalala’ adds to the overall melancholic feeling of the song.
When I first heard this song it didn’t have as strong of an impact on me as it does now, it’s a song that gets better the more you listen to it. I’ve watched quite a few fan edits of this song as well, and it goes well with period dramas and movies with sad endings. The title came from the Korean word ‘Han’ which is a feeling that cannot be directly translated to English, but from what I gathered it means something along the lines of feeling empty or void, alone, sad, the feeling of having lost someone, etc.
Overall, I give this song a rating of 9.3/10.
#2: HWAA (Fire, Flower) [Title Track]
I think even if Soyeon didn’t say beforehand that HANN (Alone), HANN (Alone in Winter), and HWAA were connected, just by reading the lyrics I would definitely know. HWAA starts out with a Soyeon singing verse, which is one of my favorite things ever (because I know her raps are fire but girl can also sing so well!).
The song starts out cold as well, and it gets warmer as the song goes on. I love how you can especially tell that the song is cold with Minnie’s first verse. She does this thing with her voice that will make you feel chilly. As the song goes on, it will become bass-heavy, which I love.
The message that I got from this song is that the main character is now in their lowest of lows (’The darkness gets deeper’ from Soyeon’s first verse), which means they can only go up from there. The main character has finally cried all their tears (’I can’t live any more tears’ from Soojin’s first verse) and is now ready to bloom again.
Soyeon’s rap verse gives me the idea that the main character is ready to completely erase the memory of their ex (’I won’t leave any traces of you, even the resentment I can’t say is far and wide’), or at least use this to fuel their rebirth (’It will release the cold, enjoy spring again, all memories become fire or fertilizer’). Soyeon’s genius is especially evident in this track, because throughout the whole song she will keep referencing the title (HWAA) with both of its meaning (Fire, Flower) without it feeling disconnected from each other. ‘Fire will release the cold, enjoy spring again (with flowers), all memories become fire (to further fuel fire) or fertilizer (to nourish the flower).’ I think it’s absolutely brilliant!
In HANN (Alone) and HANN (Alone in Winter) it was kind of evident that the main character is resentful of or angry at their ex for what happened, and in HWAA the main character is still angry but for a different reason: they’re angry at losing their ‘spring’ and is now using this anger to fuel their rebirth (’I get mad, get mad even more to regain the lost spring’ from Yuqi’s verse).
The chorus to this song is a harmonic, melodic, singing of ‘HWAA’ from all of the members (but if I’m not mistaken the chorus itself is mostly led by Shuhua). At first it seemed lacking to put such little words in the chorus, but after watching (G)I-DLE’s latest I-Talk episode where Soyeon talks a little about HWAA, it now makes sense. Soyeon said that the way the chorus is sang represents how the fire burns (you’ll get it when you listen to it, at least I did). In fact, Shuhua’s line before the chorus (’Set fire’) kind of says it all.
Honestly, I wish I was born speaking Korean, or at least knew how to speak Korean, because I can only imagine how impactful these lyrics are. Soyeon has said in a behind the scenes video that she used old Korean words for this album to properly convey the message.
Overall, I give this song a 9.2/10.
#3: MOON
This track holds a special place in my heart because it’s one of two tracks composed by Minnie (yes, my bias). Also because the track is called ‘Moon’ which I think is pretty cool. Plus, the lyrics are written by Soyeon, so it’s guaranteed good.
When I hear the word ‘moon’ I automatically associate it with emotions, maybe it’s the hidden astrology bitch inside of me but anything that has to do with the moon I immediately think ‘emotions’. This track is one of those things, and I know I’m right this time.
The song starts with a Minnie verse, and from the start you’d know it’s quite different from the previous two songs. Although personally I think all six songs are similar in such a way that they all seem to ‘take place’ at night, either on a night drive with friends or alone on a roof staring at the moon or alone in your bedroom staring outside the window, they all seem like the type of songs that you’d listen to at night.
Anyway, I kind of digressed there, but the point is this song is quite different from the previous two but also similar. It differs in the genre, since MOON is a pop track (as far as I know) while HWAA is moombahton (house music + reggaeton) and HANN (Alone in Winter) is more of a ballad. But it continues the story line of the previous songs.
The message of the song is basically the main character hiding from something, or the main character wants something to be hidden. ‘Do not shine on me, oh moon’, ‘Do not come near me, oh moon’, ‘Turn off the moon light, please don’t let it shine’, they all tell the same message. I think at this point of the story the main character is trying their best not to open up to emotions, after the very devastating break up they just experienced.
I can’t really explain the music properly, but the way this song was composed is just... so good. I love how it sounds, I love the lyrics, I love the voices the (g)irls put on for this track (I can’t pinpoint it exactly but when you’ve been listening to an artist a lot you’d know how different their voices can sound). Soyeon did not participate much in this track, only at the very last seconds, but I think that further reinforces the message that the main character is hiding something, hiding from something, or wants something to be hidden.
This track is the 10/10 of this album. I would recommend this song to anyone anywhere that’s asking for a song recommendation.
#4: Where is love
I think most people would agree when I say that this fourth track is the dance track of this album. ‘Where is love’ is under the retro funk genre, and although that sounds like it doesn’t fit the story line, trust me it does.
The song starts out with a Soyeon verse. The main character seems to be thinking about the ex in the dark night (see? it all takes place at night), but instead of getting hurt by the memories they laugh it off. ‘The crumbled memories slowly become dull, I let go of you and find myself, the lost smiles are filled back again, I forget you and find myself’. This is definitely a road to self-love song, even though the title seem to be saying otherwise. I think the title talks about how a love so strong was able to just disappear without leaving a trace, thus ‘Where is love?’. At this point of the story line I think the main character has moved on enough to be able to look back and not be hurt by the past.
Soyeon’s rap verse on this track is probably one of my favorite Soyeon raps ever (the next track might be a contender). The music is great, and I think if the girls will perform this song on a live stage this would be a carefree-type of song. It has a ‘come on, let’s vibe!’ type of energy.
Overall, I would give this song a 9.3/10.
#5: LOST
This fifth track is written and composed by Yuqi, our best and most hard-working girl. LOST is under the RnB genre. It starts out with Soojin’s beautiful voice, followed by Yuqi’s captivating one.
This song is also very, very beautiful. It talks about having lost somebody dear to you. The first verse was hard to get at first, but after some thinking I think I know what it means. ‘Dazzling sunlight, will it get dark if I cover it with my hand? Will it be forgotten if I cover you in stained memories?’ I think this mostly means that if you pretend something didn’t happen, did it really not happen?
This is somewhat of a u-turn on the story line, because it seemed like the main character was already moving on in ‘Where is love’ but here it seems like they’re remembering the past again. It might just be a final goodbye to this chapter of their life.
Like I said earlier, Soyeon’s rap verse on this track is a contender for my all-time favorite Soyeon rap. The music here is also great, something you can jam to at any time of the day. Catchy, somewhat upbeat, the voices are beautiful as it always is.
I think my favorite part of this song, aside from Soyeon’s rap verse, is Minnie’s last verse. I just love her voice a lot.
Overall, I would give this song a 9.4/10.
#6: DAHLIA
Ah, DAHLIA, everyone’s baby. DAHLIA is another pop track, written and composed by Minnie (again, yes, my bias). This song is another contender for a 10/10 on this album. Almost everyone on my Twitter timeline was obsessed with this song when the audio snippet came out. Not only does it exude major sapphic vibes, it’s also super catchy and just... beautiful.
The song starts with Minnie’s breathy, angelic voice. From the start, by the lyrics alone you’d know this is a love song. ‘So beautiful, just looking at you with my own eyes makes me fall in love’, ‘I’m drunk on a flower called you, no matter what they say, I’ll choose to love you anyway’ Okay, can we talk about the sapphic undertones? Pink and purple dahlias are said to represent feminine beauty, and flowers in general are mostly associated with women and femininity. Add to that ‘No matter what they say, I’ll choose to love you anyway’? Gay. I know it. Gay.
Also, I don’t know why but to me Soyeon’s rap verse here reminds me of their song last year called ‘Oh my god’ (which is also pretty gay, ‘Oh my god, she took me to the sky, Oh my god, she showed me all the stars’?). Maybe it’s the fact that she says ‘I’m in love again’ and then towards the end she calls out to god again ‘I pray to God, I hope this flower will be beautiful forever’, which are two of the major key points of ‘Oh my god’.
Actually now that I remember it, Soyeon did an intro rap for their last ‘Oh my god’ performance last year in December, and if I remember correctly that rap included something like ‘I’m about to sin again, fall in love with her’ (yes, with the female pronouns). I think DAHLIA might be the song that that rap was referring to, if my intuition is correct that DAHLIA is about a woman.
Anyway, aside from the lyrics which I am absolutely obsessed about, the music is also really, really good. Very catchy, beautiful vocals, and that beat drop that I like during ‘My love is dahlia’. It has that same build up as ‘Oh my god’, fast approaching the chorus and then a sudden stop just before chorus, and then a beat drop with the chorus. It is easily addictive (honestly, all six songs are easily addictive).
Overall, I give this song a 9.8/10.
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If you made it this far, thank you for reading my album review that is more like rambling and fangirling than anything. If you still haven’t listened to ‘I Burn’, please give it a listen! It’s beautiful, I swear.
#letters-from-r#letters from r#music review#album review#song review#review#music#album#song#i burn#hann#hwaa#moon#where is love#lost#dahlia#gidle#miyeon#minnie#soojin#soyeon#yuqi#shuhua#sapphic#gay#yup those are the tags#DAHLIA IS GAY I DON'T MAKE THE RULES
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Quicko thing I've seen about Yashahime
So, as a recent commenter and the general fanbase of InuYasha have said, the mother of Towa and Setsuna is theorized to be Rin. She's an obviously popular choice to be Sesshomaru's lover/baby mama. Honestly, I would be ELATED if she's confirmed canon as the mother but there are a few complications that need to be checked in order to reasonably explain the theory of her being the mother. Keep in mind, I'm not a guru of InuYasha and I'm going to be referencing mainly the anime canon for this. So, in the case that I get something wrong or miss something, don't mob my house and crucify me amongst my mint garden. With that being said, let's get into it!
So, right outta the gate is the obvious one: Rin's age as she's 11 years old at the end of InuYasha. The seasons never seem to change in the Feudal Era but we know it was spring when Kagome graduated high school and transported back to the Feudal Era. So, as we know that time in the Feudal Era moves at the same rate as the Modern Era due to the 3 year time skip, we can safely say it's fall during the Since Then chapter/episode. I'm not an expert in the Japanese school system but a quick Google search says Japanese high school begins in April and ends in March, so I'm just gonna assume I'm close enough. Anyway, we don't know Rin's birthday but, just for a best case scenario for the theory, we'll say Rin turned 12 during this time. The synopsis of Yashahime is that it begins "a few years after" Since Then and then time is skipped ahead by 10 years. The girls are 14 years old - 10 years + 9 months of pregnancy = they were 3-4 years old during "a few years after". If they were 3, then we'll just say they recently turned 14 as we're only counting the years and not the months or days. Now, in ye olde days girls were generally married off when they got their first period, and that usually happened when the young ladies turned 13-14 years old (due to changes in nutrients in the modern world's food, puberty and, thus, periods actually start earlier so that's why 13-14 years old might seem a bit old for it to start). With that in mind, I'm going to add a year to this Rin is the mother theory so that she can be 13 and become eligible for childbirth. Kinda weird to show a 13 year old as a mother but Miroku did have a 14 y/o girl beg to be his wife (Kagome commented on this as well) so it's obviously a line that Rumiko isn't afraid of crossing. Also, given that Miroku and Sango's twin daughters are 2-3 years old and Sango was a 16 y/o during InuYasha, Sango and Miroku were clearly married and got busy while she was still 16. This is Rumiko telling us that modern expectations don't mean shit in the Feudal Era; what we consider underage is overage in the Feudal Era.
Whew! I think that's the biggest one out of the way, so let's move on to genetics - phenotypes in particular (remember, genotypes have to do with genetic appearance and phenotypes have to do with physical appearance). Typically, children in the InuYasha universe look very similar to their parents. Sesshomaru is the spitting image of his parents: white hair, face markings (Sess takes after his mother in that category along with her pale skin) and golden eyes. InuYasha also takes after both his parents: Toga's tanned skin, golden eyes, white hair and (in his human form) Izayoi's black hair and eyes. We don't know what Kagome's father looked like but she does share many similarities to her mother in pretty much all phenotype categories. The only real difference between the two is that her mother's hair seems to be on the curly side while Kagome's (and Sota's) hair is more straightened, presumably a trait from their father. For an example from Yashahime itself, look no further than Moroha: brown eyes from Kagome, InuYasha's tanned skin, Kagome's (and technically InuYasha's) black hair - hell, she even got InuYasha's doglike behaviors (even if it was meant for comedy relief at most times). Setsuna and Towa though? They don't look a lot like Sesshomaru to begin with, let alone Rin. Assuming Rin is the mother, Setsuna has Rin's hair, Towa has Sesshomaru's hair, and both have Sesshomaru's pale skin; however, both girls have red segments in their hair and both have differently colored eyes, neither of which match their parents. Now, Setsuna and Towa are half-demons and, although we don't see a lot of half-demons in InuYasha, we DO know they don't always look like their parents. Case in point: Jeninji. Jeninji is...well, physically-wise, the general definition of a monster despite his father being godly in appearance along with a very pretty mother. The only other (canon) half-demon we've seen is Shiori, and the only things she got from her mother was her gender. So Towa and Setsuna, two confirmed half-demons, having physical features that match only one or neither of their parents? Fairly plausible.
Lastly is Rin and Sesshomaru's relationship and Sesshomaru's general relationship to the general human race. Sesshomaru fuckin hates humans, no ifs, ands or buts about that one; HOWEVER, there are a few humans that meet his exceptions. I'm fairly positive he only puts up with Kagome (she called him big brother at the end of InuYasha and no shit it looked like he wanted to kill her) because InuYasha loves her and I'm a firm believer that Sesshomaru cares for InuYasha more than he lets on. As I said in a previous post, Kohaku is on Sesshomaru's good list due to his efforts to protect Rin; I think the only reason Sesshomaru seemed to be harsher to Kohaku was because he was a boy and was expected to take care of himself (for example, Sesshomaru expressed annoyance at having to defend Kohaku and threatened to leave him to die but didn't follow through with it). Last human on Sesshomaru's 'this person is ok, I guess' list is, obviously, Rin. He loves her, no ifs, ands or buts about that either but we don't know what kind of love it is and we don't know where it could extend to as she grows older. When Rin died the second time, Sesshomaru cradled her body and probably would've cried if he was normal in literally any kind of way. When his mother (y'all ever realized that Sess's mother doesn't have a canon name?) revived Rin, Sesshomaru crowded her and caressed her cheek. As one of my dad's favorite songs goes, if that ain't love then I don't know what love is. The way Sesshomaru views Rin is never stated, whether explicitly or implicitly, and, in my opinion, Rin is too young to understand whatever type of admiration she has for him. Rin has stated that she wants to be with Sesshomaru for forever and Sesshomaru, who seemed to feel the same way, had obvious plans to retrieve her once she spent more time with other humans - but only if Rin wanted to come along. Also, lets keep in mind that Sesshomaru was reluctant to separate from her to begin with and he still visits her very often plus brings her gifts on each visit.
With half-demon daughters and his general hate for anything human, Rin is by far the strongest candidate to be the mother but we don't know what Sesshomaru is up to during his travels. For all we know, he could've bonded with some other human woman in the time between InuYasha and Yashahime. On a sidenote, and I know this is pretty stereotypical, but clothes (the type of gift he seems to leave her more often than not) is among the top 3 things you give to your boo to woo them (I especially say this 'cause even I enjoy clothes shopping) but that kinda depends on the person.
#kohaku inuyasha#rin inuyasha#miroku inuyasha#sango inuyasha#inuyasha#sesshomaru#sesshoumaru x rin#sessrin#kagome higurashi#kagome#towa higurashi#setsuna#yashahime: princess half demon#hanyou no yashahime: sengoku otogizoushi#inu yasha
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Sweet Lady - a Sansa key phrase
The wonderful @esther-dot was so kind as to introduce me to the precious resource that is asearchoficeandfire.com and I have been down a rabbit hole ever since. Or more so than usual. (As far as quarantine with toddlers and work, both, allow me, anyway.) It's marvelous for letting you do unfocused word combinations, which really does wonders for finding text parallels and such. But that is a post for another day.
It did inspire me to search all my book files for an exact phrase, though. "Sweet Lady". It doesn't count all the other instances for sweet, lady, my sweet, sweet queen, sweet XYZ, sweetling or what have you. We already know that "sweet" can be a code for falseness. So I didn't want to confuse the issue. Only the exact phrase. "Sweet Lady". It's enlightening.
There are 23 instances in all 5 books, the TWOW sample chapters and all the other searchable publications. They appear as follows:
Sansa: 9 (3 x Joffrey, 1 x Ser Loras, 4 x Dontos ("Florian"), 1 x Marillion)
Catelyn: 5 times (3 x Varys, 2 x Petyr Baelish)
Jonquil: 1 (Florian the Fool, "The Hedge Knight")
Lysa: 2 (1 x Morton Waynwood, 1 x Marillion)
Shae: 2 (1 x Varys, 1 x Symon Silver Tongue, ironic)
A mare: 1 (Jon, soothing a mare, about to betray the Watch)
Daenerys: 1 (Hizdahr, her "loyal" husband)
Asha: 1 (Quarl the maid, murky lover)
Lady Taena Merryweather: 1 (sneaked in, traitorous lover to Cersei - Everything there a big spotlight for Political!Jon and such, btw.)
To make it short, the phrase is a direct reference to Sansa. 9 direct references, 10 if you account for the fact that Sansa = Jonquil. (22 Jonquil mentions in all searchable publications, only 5 are not in Sansa's chapters: Jaime referencing the song or the puppetry in The Hedge Knight. Sansa is Jonquil. Case closed.) The rest of the usage concerns foils, mirrors or other characters deeply connected to her. It's a spotlight for Sansa.
In most instances, it is a marker for erroneous or "false" knights (Dontos, Florian, Loras, Waynwood), or "false" Ladies (Shae,Taena Merryweather, Alayne), immoral singers (Symon, Marillion), rape (Marillion), Rescue (Sansa/Alayne and Tanselle), political scheming (Cat, Varys, Littlefinger, Lady Merryweather and Cersei) and betrayal (ALL of them, save the true Florian and Jonquil). Also, curiously, the injury of hands. (Symon, Marillion, Catelyn, Jon, Tanselle the Jonquil puppeteer).
So now that we do know that when the phrase shows up, it's a marker for Sansa and that what surrounds it concerns Sansa, let's look at when it's used to see if we recognize anything or if it reminds us of anything. (This is where the rabbit hole comes in because there's a jumping off point for more references in almost every example.
First Mention: Sansa I, AGOT
“Leave her alone,” Joffrey said. He stood over her, beautiful in blue wool and black leather, his golden curls shining in the sun like a crown. He gave her his hand, drew her to her feet. “What is it, sweet lady? Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolf is her little pet (!), that’s all.” He looked at Sandor Clegane. “And you, dog, away with you, you’re scaring my betrothed.”
The Hound, ever faithful, bowed and slid away quietly through the press. Sansa struggled to steady herself. She felt like such a fool. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a noble lady, and someday she would be a queen. “It was not him, my sweet prince,” she tried to explain. “It was the other one.”
The two stranger knights exchanged a look. “Payne?” chuckled the young man in the green armor. The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. “Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.”
Payne, the mute. Who else is mute? Ghost. A fearsome wolf pet. Where have we heard the word "pet" before… Oh, Right. ASOS.
“The good woman at the brazier,” Mance Rayder went on, “is Dalla.” The pregnant woman smiled shyly. “Treat her like you would any queen, she is carrying my child.” He turned to the last two. “This beauty is her sister Val. Young Jarl beside her is her latest pet.”
“I am no man’s pet,” said Jarl, dark and fierce.
“And Val’s no man,” white-bearded Tormund snorted. “You ought to have noticed that by now, lad.”
Aaaand...
Jarl was with the Magnar; Mance had given them the joint command. Styr was none too pleased by that, Jon had noted early on. Mance Rayder had called the dark youth a “pet” of Val, who was sister to Dalla, his own queen, which made Jarl a sort of good brother once removed to the King-beyond-the-Wall.
And isn't that some precious phrasing. A "good brother" once, removed.
Contrast Dany, ADWD:
“What, o’ the queen’s little pets?” Brown Ben’s eyes crinkled in amusement. The grizzled captain of the Second Sons was a creature of the free companies, a mongrel with the blood of a dozen different peoples flowing through his veins, but he had always been fond of the dragons, and them of him.
“Pets?” screeched Reznak. “Monsters, rather. Monsters that feed on children. We cannot —”
“Silence,” said Daenerys. “We will not speak of that.”
So the Sweet Lady will have a pet wolf, literally and figuratively. *wink*
But on to other "Sweet Lady" instances. Two involving Catelyn:
AGOT, Catelyn:
“How could you know all that?”
“The whisperings of little birds,” Varys said, smiling. “I know things, sweet lady. That is the nature of my service.” He shrugged. “You do have the dagger with you, yes?”
Catelyn pulled it out from beneath her cloak and threw it down on the table in front of him. “Here. Perhaps your little birds will whisper the name of the man it belongs to.”
AGOT, Eddard:
Littlefinger smiled. “Leave Lord Varys to me, sweet lady. If you will permit me a small obscenity—and where better for it than here—I hold the man’s balls in the palm of my hand.” He cupped his fingers, smiling. “Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls. You see, if the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing, and Varys would not like that. Were I you, I would worry more about the Lannisters and less about the eunuch.”
We know who the Little Bird is (Sansa), so here we know our Sweet Lady will spill important Secrets to the vast dismay of some people.
Now for some sweetness in AGOT. Jon's foils Loras and Joffrey lay it on thick:
To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.” Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off.
Awww. So sweet, so fake.
Instead Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and said, “Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty, sweet lady.”
Actually, we know Jon IS a visual creature. (Natural landscapes, handsome Kingslayers, Radiant Sisters, lovely Val, etc etc etc.) But we digress.
The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.
Jon is probably the only one outside of Florian the actual puppet fool to use the phrase honestly. Jon of the fool references is Florian to Sansa's Jonquil. Brienne is the True Knight she prays for, the Galladon, but Jon is the Florian, the fool knight. Also, "The wolf was there." Jon and Ghost will be a calming, gentle, protective presence in Sansa's life. Also "mare" is an occasional marker for Sansa.
Now for something else:
ACOK, Tyrion:
Varys glanced at Shae. “My lord, must we trouble your sweet lady’s sleep with such grim and bloody talk?”
“A lady might be afraid,” said Shae, “but I’m not.”
(ASOS, Tyrion:)
“You shall rise again, I am sure. A man like you. My sweet lady Shae tells me you are newly wed. Would that you had sent for me earlier. I should have been honored to sing at your feast.”
“The last thing my wife needs is more songs,” said Tyrion. “As for Shae, we both know she is no lady, and I would thank you never to speak her name aloud.”
Which all seems to lead to:
(AFFC, Alayne)
Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought. Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.
and...
“Unhand me. You forget yourself.”
“Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know … there’s no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?”
“I’m a maiden,” she protested.
“Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I’ll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.”
Sansa jerked away from him, frightened. “If you don’t leave me, my au—my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.”
“Littlefinger?” He chuckled. “Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert’s favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with a verse.” He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn’t want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart—”
Sansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. “Singer,” a rough voice said, “best go, if you want to sing again.” The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.
The singer saw it too. “Find your own wench—” The knife flashed, and he cried out. “You cut me!”
“I’ll do worse, if you don’t go.” And quick as that, Marillion was gone.
There's a lot in this. There is yet another averted rape attempt, complete with rescue by a knight. (Lothor Brune.) Then, we have the implication that Sansa's virtue will be compromised ("Truly?" - Potentially by something horrible like on the show. The TWOW "Mercy" sample chapter is one big red flag.) and then we have the foreshadowing of Sansa losing her "innocence" by becoming a bad singer, a liar like Lysa, as we know she will when she lies about her death, or by "singing" loudly of secrets. Songs have the power to preserve and destroy, we learn, and Sansa will have to learn to weild that power benevolently. The fact that she is saved here, tells us that she will be "saved" from moral failure, as well.
Randomly, Marillion's Trial in AFFC:
“If I had eyes I should weep.” The singer’s voice, so strong and sure by night, was cracked and whispery now. “I loved her so, I could not bear to see her in another’s arms, to know she shared his bed. I meant no harm to my sweet lady, I swear it. I barred the door so no one could disturb us whilst I declared my passion, but Lady Lysa was so cold … when she told that she was carrying Lord Petyr’s child, a … a madness seized me …”
It may mean something, or it may not. But Sansa has a lot of bastard foreshadowing. Other characters have "madness" foreshadowing. And a history of miscarriages.
For something darker:
ADWD, The Wayward Bride (Asha)
A shy smile, strong arms, clever fingers, and two sure swords. What more could any woman want? She would have married Qarl, and gladly, but she was Lord Balon’s daughter and he was common-born, the grandson of a thrall. Too lowborn for me to wed, but not too low for me to suck his cock. Drunk, smiling, she crawled beneath the furs and took him in her mouth. Qarl stirred in his sleep, and after a moment he began to stiffen. By the time she had him hard again, he was awake and she was wet. Asha draped the furs across her bare shoulders and mounted him, drawing him so deep inside her that she could not tell who had the cock and who the cunt. This time the two of them reached their peak together.
“My sweet lady,” he murmured after, in a voice still thick with sleep. “My sweet queen.”
No, Asha thought, I am no queen, nor shall I ever be. “Go back to sleep.” She kissed his cheek, padded across Galbart Glover’s bedchamber, and threw the shutters open. The moon was almost full, the night so clear that she could see the mountains, their peaks crowned with snow. Cold and bleak and inhospitable, but beautiful in the moonlight.
Their summits glimmered pale and jagged as a row of sharpened teeth. The foothills and the smaller peaks were lost in shadow.
At first glance this could be sweet-ish, but the surrounding imagery is kind of sinister and I get reminded of two other things:
Lysa describing her rape of Petyr (Sansa, ASOS):
...and Petyr tried to kiss your mother, only she pushed him away. She laughed at him. He looked so wounded I thought my heart would burst, and afterward he drank until he passed out at the table. (…) That was the night I stole up to his bed to give him comfort. I bled, but it was the sweetest hurt. He told me he loved me then, but he called me Cat, just before he fell back to sleep. Even so, I stayed with him until the sky began to lighten.
And Cersei's wedding night with Robert, (Eddard, AGOT)
Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. “The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”
We already had a moment of deeply screwed up consent for Jon during his first time with Ygritte. Suddenly, the scene when Dany asks Jon if he's drunk on the show in 8x04 after the victory feast and then pushes him for sex seems even more sinister. Lysa's rape of Petyr ended in pregnancy. I hope I am wrong about this!
Lastly, this is from The Hedge Knight. "Florian and Jonquil" are being destroyed, i.e. Sansa's very favorite song is getting viciously attacked, her romantic dreams put to the torch. If my horrible suspicion is true, Sansa will live some aspect of her Ramsey storyline, if not with Ramsey, then with someone else. This following Scene festuring Duncan the fake knight and Tanselle, the tall girl playing Jonquil's puppet, however, is very reminiscent of Jon's final encounter with Ramsey. No?
The puppeteer's stall had been knocked on its side. The fat Dornishwoman was on the ground weeping.
One man-at-arms was dangling the puppets of Florian and Jonquil from his hands as another set them afire with a torch. Three more men were opening chests, spilling more puppets on the ground and stamping on them. The dragon puppet was scattered all about them, a broken wing here, its head there, its tail in three pieces. And in the midst of it all stood Prince Aerion, resplendent in a red velvet doublet with long dagged sleeves, twisting Tanselle's arm in both hands. She was on her knees, pleading with him. Aerion ignored her. He forced open her hand and seized one of her fingers. Dunk stood there stupidly, not quite believing what he saw. Then he heard a crack, and Tanselle screamed.
One of Aerion's men tried to grab him, and went flying. Three long strides, then Dunk grabbed the prince's shoulder and wrenched him around hard. His sword and dagger were forgotten, along with everything the old man had ever taught him. His fist knocked Aerion off his feet, and the toe of his boot slammed into the prince's belly. When Aerion went for his knife, Dunk stepped on his wrist and then kicked him again, right in the mouth. He might have kicked him to death right then and there, but the princeling's men swarmed over him.
So the wolf pet/lover will curbstomp her attacker in some way shape or form.
Damn. To cheer us, let's look at some Dontos/Florian from ACOK, Sansa:
“I will,” she said. “Tell me who sent you.”
“No one, sweet lady. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”
“A knight?” Joffrey had decreed that he was to be a knight no longer, only a fool, lower even than Moon Boy. “I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me,” she said. “I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”
“I deserve that, though . . . I know it’s queer, but . . . all those years I was a knight, I was truly a fool, and now that I am a fool I think . . . I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself.” His voice dropped. “The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . .”
“Florian,” Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.
“Sweet lady, I would be your Florian,” Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.
Slowly, Sansa lowered the knife. Her head seemed terribly light, as if she were floating. This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard, but if I turn away will the chance ever come again? “How . . . how would you do it? Get me away?”
Ser Dontos raised his face to her. “Taking you from the castle, that will be the hardest. Once you’re out, there are ships that would take you home. I’d need to find the coin and make the arrangements, that’s all.”
“Could we go now?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.
“This very night? No, my lady, I fear not. First I must find a sure way to get you from the castle when the hour is ripe. It will not be easy, nor quick. They watch me as well.” He licked his lips nervously. “Will you put away your blade?”
Sansa slipped the knife beneath her cloak. “Rise, ser.”
“Thank you, sweet lady.” Ser Dontos lurched clumsily to his feet, and brushed earth and leaves from his knees. “Your lord father was as true a man as the realm has ever known, but I stood by and let them slay him. I said nothing, did nothing . . . and yet, when Joffrey would have slain me, you spoke up. Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. I’ve won no tourneys, no renown in war . . . but I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.” Ser Dontos placed a hand on the gnarled bole of the heart tree. He was shaking, she saw. “I vow, with your father’s gods as witness, that I shall send you home.”
He swore. A solemn oath, before the gods. “Then . . . I will put myself in your hands, ser. But how will I know, when it is time to go? Will you send me another note?”
Ser Dontos glanced about anxiously. “The risk is too great. You must come here, to the godswood. As often as you can. This is the safest place. The only safe place. Nowhere else. Not in your chambers nor mine nor on the steps nor in the yard, even if it seems we are alone. The stones have ears in the Red Keep, and only here may we talk freely.”
“Only here,” Sansa said. “I’ll remember.”
“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“You will need to be brave and strong . . . and patient, patient above all.”
“I will be,” she promised, “but . . . please . . . make it as soon as you can. I’m afraid . . .”
“So am I,” Ser Dontos said, smiling wanly. “And now you must go, before you are missed.”
“You will not come with me?”
“Better if we are never seen together.”
Nodding, Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”
And just to add some sweet speculation…
Jon, ASOS:
If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.
I'm such a hopeful fool for these two.
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hello, i hope you're having a good day!! i was wondering, do you have any tips for making amvs? like, what programmes you use, how you handle the timing, etc. thank you for all the fun edits you make!!
hi!! sorry for the delay in answering this, i just wanted to take the time to answer it thoroughly and i kept forgetting lol & thank you! i already typed this once and tumblr made it disappear so i apologize if anything i say comes out short ‘cause i’m just trying to remember all that i typed before lol
ok so ill just go through my general editing process in Vegas, i dont know any other program well enough to talk about it at length:
(disclaimer: this is just how i do it, i dont watch tutorials and my editing friends and i don’t watch each other edit often so i would assume that my way is very different from other ways you’ve probably seen! i might even do something in a very stupidly hard way, please feel free to tell me if theres an easier way to do anything lol)
1. Song: So skipping past the “choosing song and ship/character/show” theme, I’ll dive straight into CUTTING THE SONG! I’m not about that Editing The Entire Song life, and neither is most of the editing community anymore, so I cut it up into a shorter thing that I’m better equipped to edit to. I’m just using a random example but here I’ve taken this long ass song and turned it into this:
(the next step just kind of depends on my mood, or ill do both, doesnt matter)
2-A. Subclips: if im making a shorter video or a video where i’m not 100% super familiar with the footage, i will immediately start making subclips using the episodes ive already pulled into the project. if it’s a ship/character that i’ve edited before, i’ll just go to Import->Media from Project and import the subclips i made previously. either way, subclips are there!
2-B. Sheets: for ships that i know very well/have a lot of footage/im concerned about potentially repeating something, i will go to Google Sheets/Excel and take the lyrics im editing to and put them in column A, separating by pauses in the singing. then i put corresponding footage i think will go well in column B! im often not super specific because i know the beats are gonna be different than i remember, so i usually stick to referencing whole scenes instead of specifics moments. here’s an example:
3. Clip placement: Then I start placing clips down! Below is how I organize my timeline tho I know a lot of editors who put the music on top, this is just how I like it. I also keep a single muted audio layer in between for the video footage’s audio and then I’ll delete that layer when I’m done (or sometimes I don’t, it doesn’t really matter)
I think it’s good to hit the beats as much as possible, it makes for a more dynamic audio-visual experience! In general I try to make my videos so that, if I didn’t add any zooms or typography or coloring, it would still be a good amv. And don’t limit yourself to just one layer, you can have as many layers as you’d like and put clips on top of each other (cookie cutter/changing the layer to dodge or add or screen or whatever) is a good way to mix things up
when I zoom in you can see I’ve got some variety already in my transitions, I know I use that motion-blur-zoom a lot these days but I still try to mix it up and keep my brain invested
4. Typography: After all the clips have been placed (or most of the clips, ofc sometimes I’ll want to add more later) I move on to typography! I’m lazy so the first thing I’ll do it just put down unedited text where I think I’ll want it to go. It just helps me organize myself. Then I’ll pretty up the text afterwards.
Typography isn’t necessary for a good AMV, but really nice typography can really spruce things up. I’ve only very recently gotten confident in my text editing skills, and I just kept watching typography done by editors I really like until I figured out what they were doing. My recommendation is to just KEEP ADDING EFFECTS! Convolution kernel, gaussian blur, mask the text so it appears from angles that the transitions wouldn’t be able to do - of course there’s gotta be a limit for taste, but just add stuff until you like how it looks. Also changing the blending style of the text layer is good, dodge and difference are my go-tos for typography layers.
5. Transitions: I don’t go crazy with transitions, but it’s fun to mess around with them. You don’t want too many crazy/different transitions, you want them to match the mood of the song and the type of beat you’re hitting. I usually ensure that all similar beats in the song have the same transition type on them, bbbbbbut that’s cuz I’m overly obsessed with parallel structure. There’s plenty of fantastic AMVs where they just go ham and do whatever types of transitions they want to in each part of the song and they make it work just fine
(next step, once again, kind of depends on my mood lol)
6-A. Zooms: Time for zooms! I usually just use the pan/crop for zooming, but often I’ll incorporate Sapphire FX BlurMoCurves or NewBlue AutoPan, especially if I’m trying to zoom typography with the footage at the same rate. I try to keep my zooms short and slower, I mean obv it just depends on the song but yeah. There’s a lot of different ways to do zooms so I recommend experimenting and just playing around with different effects
6-B. Zooms...but different: Another way that I’ll do zooms which is definitely pretty different (but this is what I do for crossovers like 95% of the time because I am laaaaaaaaaaazy) is I’ll drag the project into a new project timeline and start editing it there. It’s similar to how After Effects works and it makes it easier to put effects overtop of multiple layers without having to pre-render anything.
So you can see I’ve just pulled in the .VEG file and popped it in the timeline! So this way I can add zooms and transitions without worrying about layers. And if I see a mistake I need to fix, I can just go back into the original .VEG file and edit it, and it’ll be edited when I come back here. So it’s much easier than pre-rendering or trying to do zooms on a lot of layers. To be clear tho, this doesn’t work well if you have a lot of fade transitions, it’s best for sharp transitions and it’s great when you’re using Sapphire FX BlurMoCurves a lot.
7. Overlays: After that I’ll add more typography (or if you didn’t add any earlier, you can add some here overtop of the new project file) that kind of goes on top of everything. And then I’ll add any overlays or objects or whatever else I wanna add! I’m not someone who uses a lot of backgrounds cuz I don’t have a background-creative-brain so I stick to simple overlays at the most.
8. Coloring!!! This is very sad but I only JUST learned a few weeks ago that you can add coloring/effects to your entire video with this button here, so in case anyone else hates watching tutorials as much as I do here’s where I’m talking about:
This shit would’ve made my life so much easier throughout the years lol But alas. Anyway so for coloring there are some effects that are popular for any colorings you’ll find on YT (but you can certainly just download some, Riverdale editors in particular share a lot of really great colorings but you’ll find them anywhere in the live action editing community):
Channel Blend, Color Curves, Color Blend, Color Balance, Convolution Kernel (best for live action footage or footage that isnt very crisp), Color Corrector Secondary
These are all just fun to mess with. Channel Blend in particular is something of a mystery for me, I haven’t studied it fully to understand what I’m doing so I mostly just mess with it randomly until I like what I see lol
9. Render time! First render, anyway. Usually there’ll be some random problem in the footage or something and I’ll have to either go back into the project and fix it OR if I’m feeling particularly sour (or maybe if I’ve rendered like 3-4 times already) I will just take the finished render and manually remove any errors, stretching out the good footage to cover my tracks. You’d be surprised how often I end up doing that lol
And then it’s good to post! I primarily render as .WMV but I also go for .MP4s every once in a while. If I want to upload it to Twitter I’ll do an .MP4 but it’s a new thing for me so I’m still stuck on .WMV mostly.
Anyway I hope this answered your question at least a little bit, I can go into more detail about certain parts of this if you’d like!
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Okay... I promise this is the last super emotional chapter. It is the second to last chapter and I will not lie that I sobbed as I wrote it. No one in my family knew I was writing fic at the time. I was so worried someone would walk into the kitchen and find me bawling and want to know what was wrong. Oh you know, just crying over the situation into which I have put my favorite fictional characters. Yeah, that wouldn’t be a strange conversation or anything...
Get ready...<3
Chapter Forty Four
Scully’s Dream
Scully is visited by Jackson, in what she believes to be her dream. But is it a dream or a visitation that will leave her heart truly healed and ready to move forward?
March 2018
Scully woke with a gasp, feeling it again, as if she were stuck in place and unable to move. She opened her eyes and saw Jackson there, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He was wearing different clothes, but still wore Mulder’s jacket. She stared at him, unable to do anything else.
Then she felt it lift, as her body unlocked and she was able to sit up. She stared at him, unsure of what to do.
“Will you come with me?” His voice sounded from far away and echoey.
She stood up and looked back at Mulder. He was still sound asleep, unaware that she had slipped from his arms.
“He can’t hear me. He can’t feel me.” Jackson’s voice said as Scully stepped forward, her eyes locked on him.
“How are you able to do this? How can I see you and hear you in my dreams?” she asked him, watching him touch his forehead, moving his hair back. An obvious nervous tick.
He looked at her and then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know how, I just know I can. It’s ... it’s not all the time. Only when I want to and when you are receptive to it. If I try and you aren’t, it’s ... I don’t know, like trying to watch and hear through thick frosted glass.” She stared at him and he shrugged again.
Seeing him earlier tonight had left her with a myriad of emotions. Happiness, fear, excitement, but mostly hope. Hope that they would finally be together. He had not wanted to stay, however, and she understood, but it still hurt, incredibly so. He did not know them, had not been searching for her, living without her, or grieving for her, the way she had been for him. He had a family, a mother and father. She was nothing to him.
“Not nothing,” he interrupted her thoughts and she jumped. Oh, he could read her mind. “You’re not nothing to me. That’s what I want to show you. What I ... I couldn’t tell you earlier. You’re right that I don’t know you. But ... you’re not nothing to me.”
His voice was coming through a little stronger now, like he had been far away from a microphone and he finally had stepped closer. “Will you let me show you what I don’t think I know how to put into words?” he asked with a sense of apprehension, as if she would refuse him.
She looked back at Mulder then back at Jackson. “He can’t come with us,” he said, holding her eyes, begging her to understand. She held his gaze and then she nodded.
“I need ... I need to touch you. Can I?” he asked quietly, his eyes boring into her.
“Can you?” she whispered incredulously, tears filling her eyes. “This is just a dream, how can you touch me?”
He smiled and stepped closer to her. “It’s not a dream. It’s not ... it’s … a moment? A vision? Hmm … no that sounds so kooky.” She laughed and cried, wiping her eyes.
“Okay. Whatever this is, I’m ready,” she said taking a deep breath. He raised his hands, put them gently on her temples, and she gasped.
She was in a dark room, but she recognized the scent. Her old apartment, she was almost sure of it. There were shapes but she could not quite make them out. It was familiar, but still dark. Then she heard her own voice, but muffled. Then her mother’s voice, her low concerned tones. Again it was muffled. Almost like ... like she was underwater and someone was calling to her, but it was indistinct.
Then darkness, complete darkness. The scent was gone but she heard voices again. A man’s voice. Not Mulder’s. She closed her eyes and listened. It was Doggett, she realized as her eyes opened. Skinner. Then Reyes. Even the Gunmen. All muffled, but their voices were recognizable, passing by like the wind.
Then another room. She could make out that there were shapes, but not see them. A different scent this time. Achingly familiar, but she did not know what to think of it, how it was possible and what it meant. It was Mulder’s old apartment and she could hear his voice now too, though still muffled.
Then it was her place again. Still dark, but the scent was there. She could hear Mulder and Doggett together, then her mother. So many voices swirled around her.
A rush of loud voices were heard in the dark. Then only Reyes. Her voice muffled, then becoming clearer. She could hear herself screaming, louder and louder. Then it was quiet and bright, her own face, hazy but she could see it. Then it was gone.
She felt his hands leave her face. He looked at her, searching for a sign that she understood what he showed her. She stared at him, searching his face, the thoughts of what just happened swirling in her head.
“When I was pregnant with you ... but ... how? It’s scientifically impossible, improbable. No child has memories of the womb, or ... or for years later. I ... it ...” she trailed off, staring at him.
He smiled. “I’m pretty sure we can agree that I was not a “normal” child. That hasn’t changed with time, wouldn’t you say?” he asked her, a touch to his forehead.
She was trying to process the thoughts she was having. To put science and fact to what obviously could not be categorized, or easily referenced.
He smiled again. “It’s best not to put too much faith in science right now. Consider where you are and what we are doing.”
She exhaled, almost like a laugh. She nodded and took a deep breath. “Is that what you wanted me to see? That you remember that time?”
“No, there’s more. When you’re ready, you tell me, and we’ll continue,” he said, looking in her eyes.
She stared at him, unsure where this would lead. She knew how this went after he was born. The happiness, the uncertainty, Mulder leaving, her sadness and worry, the loneliness. He raised his eyebrows and she closed her eyes, took a shaky breath, opened her eyes again and nodded.
He touched her temples again and now she could see her apartment, but it was hazy, as if through a film, and it was odd angles. The ceiling and then her face again. She heard her voice, but could not make out the words. Then there was Mulder, his smiling face as he looked down. His eyes shining and then his smile growing wider. Now she understood what he was showing her.
These were Jackson’s memories, how he saw them. She felt tears running down her cheeks as she was there in that moment through his eyes. She saw Mulder leaning forward and kissing her as the most dazzling light filled the room.
The ceiling again and the mobile. She heard both her and Mulder’s voices, their tones sad. She heard herself crying and him soothing her with hums and then his own tears when she was quiet. Mulder’s face appeared hovering over the side of the bassinet. He was hazy and his eyes were so sad. So different than the last time he had been looking at him. His face came closer and she realized Mulder was picking William up. He cried as he held and looked at him. She could see the tears shining on his face.
Then she could hear his voice, his soft murmurs as she could only see black, as he was obviously holding William to his chest. She saw Mulder again as he bent to kiss William’s forehead.
She was sobbing now. She stepped away from Jackson, needing a minute. He understood and he stepped back, his hands in his pockets.
She did not know Mulder had done that, had gotten up and held their baby and had his own time with him before he left. Not like that anyway. They had lay in her bed with him between them as they marveled at how perfect he was, how beautiful. He had watched her nurse him and told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved them both.
She had watched him hold him, change him, rock him, but they were always together. He had cuddled him, loved him, but not without her. To know that he had done so, left her with a bittersweet feeling. He missed all of William’s whole short life with her. He did not have the chance to know him. But he loved him. She knew, but now she saw. She saw the love he had for the child they had created with their love. They had, and she would hold to that knowledge.
She stepped back to Jackson and nodded. He touched her temples again and she heard Mulder’s murmurs to William and saw him kiss him again. She saw her own face as he was handed back to her, their faces looking down at him together, then their foreheads pressed together before Mulder kissed her. Then Mulder was gone, the door shut, and it was quiet. Ten seconds and she heard and saw herself sobbing, as she held Jackson close.
She heard voices again, laughter, singing, and happiness. Different hazy faces- Doggett, Reyes, her mother, the Gunmen, Skinner even. All the people she had known and cared for her and Mulder. The ones determined to help them. But there were still times of her crying - as she nursed him or rocked him.
Then ... oh ... she heard herself crying again - a different kind of sound. She heard herself pleading, the desperation and sadness in her voice. She was looking over the crib, staring at him as she cried, touching his face and bowing her head.
Now she was crying, looking into his eyes, kissing his face, smelling his neck. Another face replaced hers. Spender’s face, with his sad eyes and grim look, took William from Scully, and then it was quiet.
Scully stepped back from Jackson, his eyes on hers. He saw her tears, saw the sadness all over her face. He was about to show her more, something different, when the room started to go dark, feeling as if it was enclosing in on them. He did not know what was happening, he had never seen or felt this before.
Scully crumbled to the ground in front of him, clutching her stomach, weeping with pain. Jackson stared at her, unsure of what to do. She choked on her sobs, trying to catch her breath, gasping and begging him to please stop this, to not put her through this pain again. He stuttered that he was not in control of this memory, that he did not know or remember this happening.
“It’s … it’s … please. Stop it ...” She knew this memory. It was the pain that ate her up inside. Her guilt and her sadness. She remembered it all. The despair, the utter agony, the complete emptiness. As if her heart had been ripped from her chest and the thought that she could lie down and die and she would not care. She welcomed it even. Death would be better than the pain tearing her apart.
She wanted to leave. Now. She begged him to go, but he stood there frozen. This was not what he wanted, not part of his plan. He never meant to hurt her like he was right now. Her heartbreaking cries were killing him. She desperately grabbed his hand and they ended up somewhere else instantaneously.
She knew where they were immediately, it was the bench by the Washington Monument. She took a deep breath and tried to stop her sobs, and the deep shudders in her breathing, as she held her face in her hands.
He was silent beside her. Looking at the Monument across the water, instead of at her. He never meant for her to experience the pain he just witnessed. He wanted to show her how he had remembered his life with her, and the way he had seen her and the people around her. Show her how he remembered their voices and their faces.
There was the older woman with short brown hair, who looked at him with so much love, it rolled off of her in waves. The man with blue eyes that were always so sad. The woman with brown hair and the kindest smile, Monica, who he had helped earlier. The man with glasses, Skinner, who he had known as simply the man who sounded gruff, but always smiled at him. And the three funny men who were always together. He had wanted to show her those happy memories, not hurt her the way he obviously had.
She finally calmed down, though a sob still swept through her, the tears had stopped. She took a deep breath and told him about this bench and why she seemed to have brought them there. How years and years ago, she and Mulder were separated at work, only one year after they started working together. Even then, even that soon, she needed him and he needed her because they were not whole without the other.
They had met on this bench to talk, just talk, their need to remain connected, a powerful pull. They balanced each other out, right from the beginning. She heard and then saw how being on his own was making him reckless. He was mouthing off to his superiors and disregarding any advice or help anyone gave him. He was lost without someone by his side. She was lonesome and she felt lost too. Their need for each other was powerful.
Sitting quietly for a while, her with her own thoughts, and him with his, the view at the bench was perfect. It was a beautiful spring day and she could feel the warmth of the day, as she looked at the cherry blossoms on the trees.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen, the way it ended back there. I ... I don’t know what that was, and I didn’t know how to stop it. I’m ... I’m sorry for the pain it caused you,” he said looking at his lap, unable to look in her eyes.
She looked at his profile and could see Mulder. His jawline, how it had looked when he was younger. Skinner’s words about Cancer Man came unbidden into her mind. His claim to William as his own, stating he was the father of the baby that she had prayed and hoped for. She felt her stomach roll and she was afraid she would be sick.
Jackson whipped his head up and his eyes burned into hers. “NO!” he said emphatically. “No, that is not the truth!” She looked at him in surprise and he took a breath.
“It’s not the truth,” he said in a calmer tone. “He was not my father. He was a liar above all else. I could see his thoughts, the plans of destruction he would bring. I know you saw it too, because of our connection. The certain future, if he was allowed to have his way.” He was breathing hard, needing to tell her what he saw, the thoughts and plans that man had wanted and desired.
“He was not my father. Not ... not in the biological sense. No. He whispered to me, like a snake. I could hear him saying I was his creation and it was time to show the world what he had created and what I could do. A ‘creation.’ That is what he called me,” he said, his voice low.
She stared at him, tears in her eyes again. “You were not a ‘creation.’ Not the way he implied. You were created, but not as he said. I refuse to believe that as truth. You were a miracle. My miracle. No, our miracle.”
She looked across the water, trying to keep her voice steady. “I ... I was told I would never be able to have children. Things done to me had left me unable to do so. I honestly hadn’t thought about it much until it was something taken from me,” she said quietly. "I loved my job. It was demanding and challenging. Children didn’t really factor in until ... until I was given a chance to possibly make it happen.”
She stopped talking, remembering the pain and heartache she felt when the IVF failed. How she cried and Mulder held her. He kept her sane, made her laugh, and took care of her.
Jackson watched her, shaking his head before he looked away again. He could feel the love she felt for Mulder.
“We tried. I tried in vitro and it failed. I thought that was it. The universe’s answer was no and nothing could change it. It was my only chance and if that hadn’t worked, nothing would,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Mulder and ... we … we were not ... well ... not romantically involved … until the seventh year of our partnership. We reached a point in our personal relationships and well ... it progressed and we had no reason to think we should worry about pregnancy so neither of us … used any … um ...” She glanced at him and his ears were pink. She smiled a little at that sight. A sex talk of sorts with her son, how very mom like.
“I started feeling odd, dizzy, sick, not quite myself. I didn’t attribute it to pregnancy, why would I if I had thought I was unable to conceive? I passed out at work. At the hospital they ran tests and the truth was revealed." She looked at him, waiting for him to look at her. “You weren’t planned. There was not a thought that it could happen, but oh ... you were wanted. So wanted and so loved from the first time I heard the words that I was pregnant. Oh ...” She started crying, tears running down her face.
“That ... that ... back at the apartment, you didn’t know what that was, of course you didn’t. Those ... were the memories of my darkest days. My days without you, when I didn’t have you in my arms. I … Jesus, I wanted to die. To never get up again. My heart was broken in millions of tiny pieces. I had failed you. I couldn’t keep you safe, couldn’t protect you. There were so many attempts to harm you. I knew it was just a matter of time before ... before they might kill me to get to you. That you ... would be taken away to become a lab rat. Something to be poked and prodded, and experimented on. I ... I didn’t want that for you. I thought ...” She took a deep breath, her tears wetting her shirt as they fell nonstop. “I thought a normal unassuming family could care for you. Give you what I couldn’t. Safety and the care that I could not.”
She looked at her hands, her sobs coming out harder now, tears falling faster and seemingly unending. She took large gulping breaths. She had to tell him something, but she was not sure if she could get it out, not without sobbing.
“I want you to know … to … be absolutely sure of something. As much as they loved you, my love for you never ended. A part of me died the day I let you go. It created an open wound the festers and hurts. It has never healed. It might feel as if it’s getting better, things are moving forward. Then it opens again and the pain pours out, infecting me with a sickness from which there is no cure." She paused for a breath, then another, taking a few minutes.
“I am happy ...” She stopped again and wiped her eyes. She kept her hands on her mouth and nose, a triangle holding in her sobs. Taking her pain and then letting it go in the wind when she moved. “I am happy you had a mother and father who loved you.” Again she stopped to take a few minutes.
“But I want you to know, to understand,” she said turning toward him, tears falling fast again. “Please don’t ever think that you were unwanted, unloved, or tossed aside. I would have died for you, if I knew it meant you were safe. A thousand deaths I would suffer, if I knew you would be safe and happy and whole.”
He turned away from her but she could hear him crying. Her words sunk in and filled the holes he did not know were open in his heart. He was loved. He had been so loved, it was true. He was safe and cared for by his parents and it was all he needed. Until he had smelled her scent on the breeze.
After he left them tonight, he thought about her. He thought about her scent and all the memories tied to it, how he would be confused by the dreams tied to it. The sounds, the colors, the faces, and that scent. Those past memories and the faces he could not forget had been buried deep inside.
When he thought about it tonight, of the past that he had tried to forget or push away because it confused him, he realized he no longer felt it. The overwhelming feeling he felt now, was love. From all the memories, but mostly from her.
He knew he could not let her feel that she had failed him and believe the things she had said to him when he was in that body bag. He wanted her to know that he had been happy and safe and that was because of her. Before he could begin to tell her, she began to speak again.
“After I had given you up ...”
“No. Not ‘given up,’ he interrupted, looking at her. “You didn’t ‘give up.’ You were protecting me.” He nodded once, letting her know the matter was settled, and she smiled sadly at him.
“Right, okay,” she agreed. “Once I had seen to your protection, Mulder was found in the desert. They claimed he had murdered someone and he was to be held on trial for his life. It was a lie and a foregone conclusion that he was already guilty. It didn’t matter what anyone said or did, he was going to be punished for his actions he was sentenced to death by lethal injection.”
She looked out across the water again, taking a deep breath. “With a simple phone call, my whole world fell apart. Again. I had lost you, and I was going to lose the person I loved most in the world.” She looked down at her hands, folding and unfolding them. Nervous energy spilling from her.
“We worked together, the people from your memories, to get him out of that prison, and he and I escaped. We ran and we didn’t look back. We were on the run for a long time. Never staying in the same place for too long, until finally it was safe to come home. Well, safe enough. Mulder was still wanted, but I was clear. No one could prove I had anything to do with his escape, not unless they outed themselves." She smiled faintly, thinking of the bind it put some people in, like Kersh.
“I never had a chance to grieve properly for you, to address my guilt about my ... protecting you. I ... I couldn’t talk about it with Mulder. I felt that he couldn’t possibly understand how I felt. He wasn’t there, he didn’t know. I also thought he blamed me and it created a block between us that I didn’t like, yet did nothing about.”
She looked at him and smiled. “We talked tonight. Talked about a lot of things that we should have in the past. Things that would have ...” She paused, shaking her head, knowing that conversation had been long overdue. “Anyway, we talked about how we felt. We were both grieving. Both thinking the other had placed blame on what happened. There were a lot of tears and misunderstandings, but we got past it. Together, like we always do. Like we should have done years ago.”
“Can I show you something?” he asked her, suddenly, smiling.
“I don’t want to leave here yet. Can ... can we stay here for a bit still?” she pleaded, not ready for anymore painful memories yet.
“No,” he said, “we won’t leave. I want to show you a feeling.”
He touched her fingers and she closed her eyes, letting the feeling wash over her. She felt the feeling of a breeze, the sound of wind in the trees, the calming feeling it brought her as a child, and even more so as an adult. Contentment. She felt contentment.
He showed her then the visual pictures that were associated with that feeling. Mulder. All Mulder. Smiling, laughing, touching her face, looking at her. He was her contentment, her peace.
“I wish you could see how you feel when you think of the peacefulness he brings to you. It’s a dazzling yellow,” he told her softly, smiling as he looked around her.
“You can see emotions?” she asked, opening her eyes, amazed at what he could do.
“I can. I can see your peace, but also your guilt. I see that you still carry it with you and I want to ask you to let it go,” he said quietly, looking in her eyes. “I’m okay. You saved me and made sure I was as safe as could be expected, considering who I am. But your guilt of what you could have done, what you should have been, is still blocking you. You need to let it go to be happy and completely content.”
She looked at him and he smiled at her. She sighed, still wanting to sit for a bit. She felt a breeze stir and it calmed her as she thought of Mulder. She asked if they could go home, back to her house. He nodded and smiled. She closed her eyes at his touch and then opened them. They were in the grass outside the house.
“I wish you could have known us, especially your father. He would have had so much fun teaching you all kinds of nonsense. Taken you out hunting for jackalopes, camping under the stars, introduced you to his favorite TV shows." She smiled sadly, thinking of the memories they would have shared.
“There it is, the darkness of your guilt. I want you to stop thinking that way. I need you to and so does he,” he said, watching her. “I saw tonight the love you two share. The peacefulness you gain from him, it doesn’t compare to the love I saw. It’s blindingly white, the brightest white I’ve ever seen. As if the darkness has been completely pushed out.” He shook his head at the beauty of it.
“He’s everything to me. It’s been twenty five years and I love him more than ever. He is amazing, brilliant, and driven. He makes me crazy sometimes, but he crept into my heart and he built a home there. I can’t evict him because I would be evicting myself,” she told him. They both smiled at that thought.
“You can’t hear him though, can you?” she asked sadly, looking in his eyes.
“Sometimes,” he said, dropping his eyes to the ground. “It’s weird because I could a little more tonight when I was thinking about him. I could picture him more and see him a bit. I can hear him, but it’s faint. From far away or underwater. Maybe that old man wanted the connection broken or he was blocking him somehow or put up a filter. I’ve seen what they can do. It’s possible.”
She thought of Mulder’s brain experiments done on him by Fowley and that bastard. Could that have been what he was doing? Even then? Setting in motion a plan for her to have a hybrid child? Taking away Mulder’s ability to see visions like he was, because that smoking asshole was jealous and wanted it for himself? He took away Mulder’s ability to see his child. To have that connection. Fuck, is there nothing he would not ruin?
Jackson suddenly came to stand close to her. She felt a peace when he did that. A peace similar to what she felt earlier when he had touched their foreheads together. He asked if he could touch her once more. He had a final thing to show her.
He touched her temples. She saw him seeing her: bent over his bassinet, heard her singing as she looked at him, his fingers wrapped around her finger, the way he felt when she nursed him, the closeness, her heartbeat, her love.
Then, Jackson growing up. Happy and healthy. Learning to ride a bike, jumping on a trampoline, playing tag. His powers showing themselves. Then the tests, and the questions, but his parents only allowed so much. They loved him, but were scared of and for him. No one could protect him, not completely. He stopped touching her temples. She was sobbing.
He touched her cheek. “You saved me. You did. I know you still think you failed me, but you saved me. I wanted you to see that I didn’t feel anger toward you. Not then and not now. I don’t want this to sound like anything other than my truth. I didn’t know you to be angry or hurt. I had the memory of your pain remember? I heard you crying. I know what the decision was to you." He smiled at her. “But … the alternative? If you had kept me with you? I had seen their power, heard of stories, what they had done to their own children. Without my parents, without your decision to attempt to keep me safe, I would have been in a facility, treated like a lab rat. They would have used me to hurt others, possibly to kill for them. An experiment for them to use as they pleased.”
She gripped his arm as he now touched her face. She felt something different, a weight breaking up inside her and the guilt beginning to float away. He did not hate her, he understood. He believed she saved him.
She nodded at him and he smiled. He took the way out tonight to be free from their clutches, and he was here to remove her from her own, letting that guilt go once and for all. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let go. She let go of all the pain, the guilt, and suffering she had carried. Let the wind grab it, and scatter it, never to be found again.
“Yes!” he shouted loudly and spun around, his fists pumping the air. She laughed and cried at the same time. But they were happy tears.
Her boy had set her free.
“It’s beautiful ... no more darkness lingering about." He grinned and she did the same. They stared at each other, both knowing it was time for him to go, he had done what he came to do.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers. “You take your time, okay? Come to us, if and when, you are ready. I want to ask one thing if you do, okay? If you do come here, come as you. Please. No pretending to be someone else. Just you. Please.”
He smiled and squeezed her fingers in return. “It’s a promise.”
She let go of his hand and stepped away, heading for the porch. She turned around to say goodbye, but found that he was gone.
She woke up suddenly with a gasp, her eyes flying open. She was back in her bed with Mulder’s arms around her.
“You okay, Scully?” Mulder asked sleepily.
She tried to catch her breath as she looked around the room. Her eyes landed on an item next to her on the bedside table. She sat up and picked it up. It was a snow globe like the one she had dropped. She smiled as she realized it had not been a dream. She shook the snow globe upside down and then back over again. She watched the snow falling on the windmill in Kansas.
She slid back into Mulder’s arms and continued to watch as the snow collected around the bottom of the windmill.
Mulder pulled her closer. “You okay, hon?” he murmured in her ear.
She smiled. Hon. He had not called her that in a long time. She turned over with one last look at the snow globe, before she burrowed into his arms again.
“Yeah,” she said softly with a smile.“I’m okay.”
Lying there, safe in his arms, her burden lifted, she felt that five words had never been more true.
There’s no place like home.
________________________________________________________
God... every time I reread this chapter, I cry. EVERY TIME. When I imagine what it would be like to see Gillian acting out this part of the story, it just absolutely shatters me. I know she would absolutely kill it and with it, my heart and my emotions.
I had a cover made with the title of the story, Unification, which was the title that this and The Docks was before it was a part this story. My name was on it, like a proper author and all. In October of 2018, Gillian signed it at the Spooky convention in Orlando and I was over the moon. She could not have been more lovely and supportive when I explained what it was. It is a moment I will treasure forever.
Okay, y’all... one more chapter to go ...
#The X Files#XF Fanfic#X Files Novel#Post MSIV#A much needed meeting and discussion#Holy hell does this chapter gut me every time#One of stories I am most proud of
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