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writing-for-marvel · 10 months

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Night Shift

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 5 | Series Masterlist | PART 7 > >

Summary: When you’re stuck on night shift for two weeks, you and Bucky find it difficult to spend time together.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, mention of sending nudes/audio within an established relationship, implied food play, mention of dialysis and an elderly patient dying, soft fluff

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I truly didn’t mean for this part to be this long, yet here we are. Some soft smut and domestic fluff after the angst of part 5. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“My place next weekend?” Bucky poses as he peppers delicate kisses over your face. You scrunch your nose and let out a little squeal of glee that promotes him to continue his trail of kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

The prospect of spending an entire week without seeing or touching Bucky seems like pure torture. You suspect Thor didn’t take kindly to you turning him down in favour of Bucky which has resulted in you covering the night shift for the next two weeks.

With Bucky still living with and taking care of his Ma recovering at home after being discharged from the surgical ward last week, and your now severely conflicting schedules, you know you won’t find the time to see each other until the following weekend.

You have to remind yourself that you only have to endure six days without him, not even a full week, but it’s the six nights attempting to fall asleep in an empty bed without his strong arms cuddling you into his broad, musky scented chest that you suspect will be more tormenting to endure.

“What have you got planned?” Your eyes narrow, trying to see if you can get any clues by reading his countenances. Unfortunately, all he does is smile, which gives away nothing except for the soft flutter of butterflies in your stomach that indicate how you enjoy being the cause of his happiness.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” God he loves to tease, and as much as you adore him for it, having something specific to look forward to at the end of the week would actually be very helpful in surviving the week.

“Can it be next weekend already?” You whine between peppered kisses around your face. Bucky simply chuckles, but he feels your pain, he doesn’t want to have to endure the impending week without you either.

“I promise, the week will go by in a flash.”

But this one time, Bucky’s promise isn’t truthful.

The week feels like it’s moving through tar.

You’re awake when it’s pitch black outside and when you attempt to sleep at home, the sun is seeping through your curtains, almost mocking you that you can’t be outside enjoying it.

The night shift drags on more so than a regular day because you don’t have Wanda keeping you company, and you know that you won’t be able to steal glimpses of Bucky which normally sustain you throughout your shift.

You then come home and crash on an empty bed in a lonely apartment when most people are only just starting their day. Your mind can’t help but wonder what Bucky is doing at this very moment. Perhaps he’s making breakfast for his mom, and you smile thinking about them joking together over their cereal. Or maybe he’s having his morning shower, the hot water cascading over his toned body, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes as he washes his naked body.

Possibly thinking about you.

Maybe even touching himself to the thought of you being right there with him.

And that’s the image you manage to fall asleep thinking about and which enters your dreams.

The following day is no better. Sporadic messages from Bucky during his waking hours is the only contact you have with him, until it gets too late where his communication ceases altogether, under the assumption he finally fell asleep.

After driving home, and two and a half long days without seeing him, you’re desperate to hear his voice. Sadly, the only time you manage to hear it is when his voicemail instructs you to leave a message because you’ve missed him. At a very minimum he will be able to hear your voice if you leave a voicemail, so you decide to tell him about your day.

“Morning baby, I know you’re probably with your Ma, but I just finished my shift and I’m on my way home and I’d thought I’d see if I could catch you before I fall asleep. It was a tough one today, Mrs Stewart, that lovely lady on dialysis who read my cards, the one I told you about last week, she came into the ER again and passed away overnight. I organised for her daughters to come in to say goodbye, but it felt like such an injustice, she should have had more time and been able to meet her grandbaby. I wish I had been able to come home to a hug and kiss from you.” You take a short pause, trying to compose yourself. You’re a doctor, losing patients is part of the job description and just makes saving lives that more extraordinary, but it is always easier to cope when you have Bucky there to run you a bath and help wash the day off you.

You don’t get that privilege this week.

“How’s your Ma? I know you said the other day she was meeting all her goals so I’m sure she’s breaking all kinds of records and continuing to be a mischief maker just like her son is.” You let out a chuckle, thinking of your cheeky boyfriend and his even sassier mom interacting with each other makes you grin. “Two nights down, four more to go. Honestly the weekend can’t come soon enough, I already miss you and it’s only been two days! Oh also, I sent you some pictures overnight, I hope you enjoy getting to look through those before bed later, I think you’ll like them. Sending you kisses and dirty dreams. I hope we get to speak soon baby.”

You hang up feeling ever so slightly better. Even though you weren’t actually speaking with him directly, in some strange way you feel like you have.

When you wake up, a good eight hours later, feeling more exhausted than when you went to sleep, one of the notifications you’ve missed is a call from Bucky, and your heart flutters when you realise he’s also left you a long voicemail.

“Hey darling, it was so great hearing your voice just before starting my shift, I feel like my day is already brighter from just listening to you talk. I’m sorry to hear about your patient, she seemed like such a sweet lady. If I were with you I’d give you the biggest hug and kiss, you deserve them both. Just know you are an amazing doctor; and her daughters will be grateful that they got their chance to say goodbye.” There’s a long pause in the recording, so much so you think your phone has accidentally switched off, but then you hear his voice again. “Ma is doing so well, we’re getting out and doing some small walks around her neighbourhood. She’s friends with one of the lady’s down the end of the street and her poodle puppy, so her motivation to keep walking is to see little Millie and get puppy kisses. I have to take her to a follow-up appointment after work, so it might prove a little tricky finding a time to chat but hopefully I can catch you before your shift.”

Your heart sinks, after not actually getting to speak with him earlier today you had hoped this afternoon would be your best chance to do so. But as disappointed as you are, you don’t blame Bucky one bit - he has to take care of his mom, and seeing the relationship they share only makes you adore him even more.

“I had a sneak at those pictures earlier and you made me harder than a fucking rock looking like a wet dream in that lingerie set. You can guarantee I’ll be looking at those when I go to sleep tonight. I might just have to send you some audio of how much I enjoy them.” Excitement tingles down your spine and you salivate at the thought of hearing Bucky get off to pictures of you. That of all the people he’s ever been with, you’re the one he can’t get enough of. “I hope you’re resting up baby, you deserve it. I’m sure we’ll speak soon, and if not, I’m just gonna keep listening to your voicemail on repeat so I can hear your voice again.”

You listen to his message three times. Firstly, just to hear his voice, how elated he sounds speaking to your voicemail. Second, to actually take in what he said. And thirdly, to listen to the sound of his voice again.

The remainder of the week wouldn’t be such a drag now that you could listen to his voice any time you want.

* * *

After your shift ends on Saturday morning, you have a pep in your step as you exit the hospital, on your way straight to Bucky’s place.

You’re finally going to see him again and nothing, not even the wet weather that you drive through towards his apartment, will dampen that.

When he answers his door, there’s a moment's pause where you simply stare joyously at each other, as if trying to determine if this is actually real or something concocted in a dream.

Seeing Bucky’s gorgeous, smiling face after a week apart is like a breath of fresh air. After a week of suffocating, you could now take a long, deep breath, oxygenating all those cells in your body which had been crying out for him. By the achingly doting expression on his face, you are positive he has longed for this moment as much as you have.

Someone else would probably think you had spent months apart with how hurriedly you pull one another into a crushing embrace. Your arms fling around his neck, pulling him down to you, and he pulls your waist flush with his as he buries his face in your neck.

“I missed you.” You whisper in his ear, taking in the familiar scent of his eucalyptus shampoo and that musky scent which was just naturally Bucky.

“Not as much as I missed you.” He mumbles, pulling back so his lips can capture yours in a tender kiss. His lips are soft and meld against yours with languid motions.

You stay in each other's arms for a long moment, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace, letting the rest of the world melt away as you revel in the delight of being reunited.

With a kiss to your forehead, Bucky takes your hand and leads you inside, not wanting to be deficient of your touch for even a single second longer.

“I have something to show you.” He proclaims with a mischievous grin. You’re left to ponder what it might be as he doesn’t give you any hints, however, you don’t need to wait long for when he leads you through the doorway to his living space the surprise hits you square in the chest.

“Bucky…” Your jaw drops open and you’re left speechless.

His lounge room is lit up with candles, casting a soft, warm glow over the entire room and filling the air with a sweet vanilla fragrance. The couch and coffee table have been pushed to the back wall to make room for a makeshift bed of multiple blankets and pillows. A small projector sits at the foot of the ‘bed’, pointing at a now bare wall, the few pictures Bucky did have up now stored on the coffee table. To top it all off, rose petals have been scattered all around the room, with a bouquet of the same flowers tied up neatly in a pretty bow beside the bed which you can only assume is for you.

“You did all this for me?” You choke out, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you but the lump in your throat betraying you.

“I’d do anything for you.” He responds without hesitation. “I wanted to have a romantic weekend together after not seeing you for so long.”

He looks at you with such extreme fondness, like something precious he values and wants to keep safe, and you have no choice but to kiss him. Not soft and sweet like his was, but instead ardently, fiercely. As a ‘thank you’. As a ‘I missed you’. As a ‘I care about you beyond what words can describe’. As a ‘I need you right now’.

Your hands find his hair and pull lightly, in the way you know he likes and which helps you open him up to you so you can sweep your tongue in his mouth.

You’re in control of the kiss until Bucky manages to slip a large hand past the elastic of your pants, fingers finding the wet patch forming in your panties. Even the feel of his thick fingers through the material is enough to make you keen, and all of a sudden you’re putty in his hands as he takes charge.

“How long have you been this wet for me, darling?”

“All week.” You moan breathlessly as he runs his fingers through your soaking folds, making sure his thumb circles your clit with the just the right pressure he has come to know with experience makes your toes curl. “Jerking off to your pictures just isn’t the same.”

“You need the real thing, baby?” Bucky nips at your earlobe before sucking on your neck, the sensation making you dizzy with lust. You want him - no, need him, more than you’ve needed anyone before, more than you need to breathe.

“Yes, please.” You beg, hands reaching down to feel his hardening cock underneath the material of his sweatpants. His lips connect with yours again as you cup his balls through his pants, a gravelly grunt escaping his lips

“Lay down, darling.” Bucky instructs, his spare, strong hand running down your back to assist you falling backwards onto his provisional blanket bed. “I got you.” He promises as you let him hold your body weight, placing you down carefully and ensuring your head rests on one of the pillows.

Bucky cages you in, his muscular form and intoxicating scent consuming your vision and filling all your senses. His eyes are brimming with desire, observing you underneath him as if you are the most alluring sight he’s ever had the pleasure of gazing at, and it only makes the wet patch in your panties grow.

“Need you, James.” He smirks as his real name falls from your lips. Bucky knows you mean business when you use it, and though he loves to tease you, today is not the time for that, because as much as you need him, he needs you even more.

“I know baby, Imma take good care of you, make you feel so good.” Bucky coos before sliding down your body, pulling your slacks and underwear off in one go. “There’s my pretty pussy.” As soon as his plump lips suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves, you’re sent straight to heaven. Without giving you a moment to think about how almost painfully good he’s making you feel and how much you’ve missed the feel of his tongue swirling at your core, he’s slipped two fingers inside you, fervently stroking your velvety, fluttering walls.

“Shit, Buck. God, I’ve missed your mouth.” If you were with anyone but your precious Bucky, who you trust implicitly, you might be embarrassed by how quickly the band at the bottom of your stomach is tightening, ready to snap at any second. But you never feel self conscious when you’re with him - his utmost concern with your pleasure, ensuring you always feel safe and comfortable when you’re with him nourishes the trust you share.

You look down at Bucky between your legs still fully clothed, rutting into the blankets beneath him, as if he’s getting off on purely the taste of you. You swear you’ve never been with a partner who actually enjoys eating you out as much as Bucky does, rather than seeing it as a chore to get through so you’ll suck them off.

Through his long hair, strands of which have fallen in front of his face, his piercing blue eyes look up to find you watching him intently, overflowing pleasure etched on your features, whimpers and moans cascading from your mouth. This only spurs him on. With a smirk you can feel against your sensitive folds, his movements become more frantic, pushing you ever closer to your impending high.

“Make a mess on my face, darling.” His breath is hot against your centre, before diving right back in, tongue feverishly licking up every drop of arousal he himself is responsible for, as his fingers curl to find that spot inside you which makes you see stars.

“Buck- oh god, oh please, right there, fuck yes, yes, right there, don’t stop.” Your thighs squeeze around his head but it doesn’t slow him down. He’s been starving for a week and nothing, even not being able to breathe, is going to stop him from taking you over the edge of ecstasy.

And that’s exactly what he does. With a simultaneous thrust of his fingers and suction on your clit, you cum with a cry of his name, thighs quivering and toes curling as your back arches off the pile of blankets and pillows that are now in disarray.

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, continuing to pump his fingers inside you as his other hand frantically rubs your clit, prolonging your pleasure and causing your body to involuntary jerk as your orgasm fires through every cell in your body.

When you finally come down, completely out of breath and sweat beading on your brow, Bucky smirks at you in his signature, cheeky way where you can’t help a reciprocating smile blossoming in your own features.

“Now, let’s see how many times you can cum on this fat cock.”

* * *

“Bucky?” You mumble with a hoarse voice as your eyes blink open to the bright early afternoon sun streaming through the cracks in Bucky’s curtains, even though you can tell he’s tried to pull them across as far as they will go so you can sleep in mild darkness.

When you don’t get a response you turn over lazily, arm reaching out to the spot beside you on the makeshift bed only to find cool sheets and spare pillows. Your heart drops that even though you got to fall asleep beside Bucky, you haven’t been able to wake up beside him.

That moment of happiness and contentment as you both open your eyes in the morning, being the first thing you each see in the day, after being the last before falling asleep, as soft smiles spread simultaneously over both of your features, is a type of pure magic you don’t want to be deprived of once you’ve had a taste.

Hearing movement and faint sizzling coming from the adjacent kitchen, you pull Bucky’s discarded Henley over your naked form and, with a stifled yawn, shuffle towards your boyfriend.

You take a moment to lean on the doorframe and admire your burly boyfriend, shirtless, with grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, long hair tied back from his face in a small bun as he pours batter onto a frypan.

You could get used to this.

The muscles of his bare back flex as you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade, your arms snaking around his toned midriff

“Did you sleep well?” He asks softly as the hand he’s not using covers your left hand, fingers naturally slotting between yours. One of your favourite things since officially becoming his girlfriend is how physically affectionate he’s become. He’ll make any excuse to hold your hand, to sling an arm around your shoulders or have you sitting in his lap.

The fact that he seeks out that contact with you, makes your heart flutter each time. Warmth blooms in your chest knowing you’re the only person he wants that affectionate, lovey-dovey connection with.

“Hmm I guess. Wanted to wake up next to you though.” Your arms tighten around his waist, as if to reflexively keep him close and prevent him from moving away as he had done while you were asleep.

“I’m sorry darling, our sleep schedules are just off at the moment.” You kiss a freckle on his shoulder blade, a silent recognition that you understand what he means and you aren’t upset. You observe a shiver running down his back at your soft kiss so you do it again with a smile, loving that you’re the one person who gets to elicit that kind of reaction from him.

“Watcha making?” You ask lazily, standing on your tiptoes so you can see above his shoulder to what he’s cooking in the frypan. The room smells delicious, like sugary sweetness and melting butter

“Pancakes. Figured we’d need some energy after what we did this morning.” He chuckles as you let out a little squeal of delight. No man has ever put the effort in to cook for you before, and now Bucky’s making one of your childhood favourites. “Plus, they’re one of the only things I can make well.”

“They almost look as yummy as you.” You flatter, poking him at the ticklish spot he has just above his hip which makes him squirm and giggle.

“You’ll have to make sure to save room for your dessert then.”

You fall into comfortable silence as you remain resting on his back and Bucky continues to cook the pancakes one at a time, treasuring the closeness given your separation over the past week, but not needing conversation to feel at ease with each other's presence.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me again, huh?” Bucky’s voice pulls you away from the dark void of sleep you were falling into without realising.

“Maybe… you’re just so comfy.” You mumble, your tired lips barely articulating the words, but Bucky chuckles like he knows what you’ve said.

“Here…” He places the spatula down and before you know it, he’s grabbing you by the hips and lifting you onto the counter beside his stove. He stands between your legs, casually kissing you and hands smoothing over your bare thighs. In this moment it feels as though nothing can come between you, even the prospect of spending the rest of your career on the night shift. “My sweet girl.” He mumbles against your lips, hooking your legs around his waist, getting lost in the taste of you to the extent that he almost forgets about the batter cooking on the pan and has to frantically untangle himself from you to turn them before they burn.

Once the pancakes are done, Bucky serves them up on a plate for each of you and leads you back to the living room with your hand in his, only leaving you huddled in the blankets alone for a moment to go grab all the topping options he purchased specifically for this occasion.

You start eating your pancakes as Bucky fiddles to connect the projector, cursing under his breath when it doesn’t work. You tell him not to mind, because after finishing your pancakes, you’re interested in other activities that don’t involve watching a movie, and making use of the rest of the whipped cream Bucky bought.

Though the weekend will surely go by in a flash, you want to stay in the moment with him and enjoy every sweet and sinful second you get together.

* * *

Before you know it, Monday has come round again and you’re back on the night shift. Yes, the week without Bucky had been difficult and you didn’t like it one bit, but you made it through once, so you know you can do it again.

Besides, your weekend of indulgence certainly made up for the lonely nights and days without seeing him, so you’re using the prospect of a similar weekend as motivation to get through another gruelling week.

Early on in your shift, as you’re preparing to send a young man in for an x-ray of his possibly fractured wrist, a familiar voice calls your name as they approach the nurses desk.

“Buck?” Your heart starts beating frantically thinking something must be catastrophically wrong for him to be in the ER at this time of night. “Is everything okay? Is it your mom?” Your voice is shaky, but your concern isn’t reflected on his face.

If you weren’t in a state of panic, you would have realised that him being in his EMT uniform was an indication of the true reason he found himself inside the hospital, but you fail to notice that detail in the moment of anxiety.

“Darling, everything is fine.” He punctuates his reassurance with a sweet kiss, his large hands calmly cupping your face and savouring the feel of your lips against his. “I swapped shifts with someone on nights for the week. I didn’t want to have to go another whole week without seeing you or sleeping next to you.”

Surprise stuns you for a split second - Bucky changed to the night shift because he missed you that much last week. Your stomach does a flip at how thoughtful his gesture is.

“Or do you mean sleeping with me? Are you a little pussy drunk, Barnes?” You tease.

“Oh I’m most definitely pussy drunk. Pussy addicted even.” He affirms with his signature smirk. Warmth blooms in your chest at how shamelessly he’s into you - you have become accustomed to men’s ambiguous signals, their aversion to commitment, but with Bucky, as soon as you proclaimed yourself as his girlfriend, he’s been nothing but unabashedly yours.

“You really swapped the night shift just for me?” You ask, voice softer and more vulnerable now. No one has ever gone out of their way to inconvenience themselves for you before. Part of your brain can’t believe seeing you more is the only reason Bucky has made the switch. Surely he must have some ulterior motive?

“Of course I did.” He says with an amused lilt as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your stomach tingles with something of devoted affection when you perceive no trace of deception in his features.

“What about your Ma?” You question, very appreciative of what Bucky has done but concerned he hasn’t thought it through the whole way.

“Steve offered to help out, and I can still see her before each shift in the afternoon and afterwards in the mornings.” He reassures with a smile that relieves any doubt you were feeling. “Spending time with you is important to me. No one makes me feel as happy and content as I do when I’m with you, so when the opportunity presented itself, of course I took it.”

Looking into his steel blue eyes, which regard you with a familiar warmth and devotion, your stomach clenches as the realisation hits you - you have something in this world you’re terrified to lose.

Perhaps his edges are a little jagged by his past, but Bucky makes you feel like you’re in the exact right place at the exact right time, that there’s no rush, nothing to run or hide from, that you are precisely where you’re meant to be.

And though you don’t tell him that you’re falling in love, you kiss him like you do.

Part 7 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @roschele @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @fallenlilangel99 @princezzjasmine @mdrovert @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @netflixxgoddess @pop-rocks-818 @dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @marvelhoeland @thesadcatto-queen @kayden666 @amiimar @razor-blayde @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @moonymagician @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @unaxv

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nevermeyers · 1 year

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Hey! About the question list you rb'ed earlier I was wondering if you could tell us your favorite question(s), and maybe answer if it's not too much of a bother and you ever feel like it 👀🌸.

I hope you have a great weekend and you take care, good luck for your exams 🤞!

Hii! <3 Hope you're having a great weekend too ❤️ It doesn't bother me, don't worry! Take care ✨

13. Do you have trust issues?

A lot. However, I can't imagine myself without them.

I'd rather trust no one and constantly go on my own than trust someone for anything. If it's something like learning I wouldn't mind, but I'm not the type to ask for help, I like to fend for myself. I don't vent to anyone either, precisely because of my trust issues lmao; venting never fixes anything and it seems useless to me

You could be my friend and you'll never hear from me that I feel bad, or that something has happened. Unless I'm dying I won't say anything, never

So, yeah, I have trust issues but I like them. They have made me more self-sufficient

15. Is there a song, book, movie, or other piece of media that has drastically altered your life? What was it, are there multiple?

Robert Ressler's books gave me interest in criminology <3 Maybe if it hadn't been for that man I wouldn't be here where I am

The book 'The Pianist', specifically the added pages where Wilm Hosenfeld's diary is, changed my way of seeing wars, specifically the Second World War. Just like the movie 'Land of Mine.'

The book 'Love letters to the Dead' also changed my eay of seeing things, but I've already talked about that!

27. Do you think you have a "moral compass" and where or who do you think you got it from? Or do you think of it as something inherent to yourself?

My moral compass is a russian roulette

I think that when you grow up and realize that money (and often sex) moves the world, something changes in you. And not only that. My career is about seeing the worst in people, the worst that human beings can do and that may have made me develop a low level of empathy (to cover myself from damage, just as doctors have).

I have several ideals that nothing will change: survival comes first, at the end of the day the only person who is with me is myself.

Therefore, I'm my priority. Why do I mention this? I don't know, to the people around me this morality seems radical and selfish. For me, being selfish is not bad and it doesn't even imply harming others.

Now, well, I say that my moral compass is a Russian roulette because, taking into account the last thing that I have mentioned, I go with the side that wins. Yes, I believe in loyalty, yes I'm an extremely loyal person, but if there's something that can guarantee my well-being, I'll throw myself at it.

I'm not talking about friendship, because if someone speaks ill of a friend/loved one I'll always be there to defend them tooth and nail and I'll never go over to the other side. I'm talking about something more radical and concrete, about other things that sometimes inevitably happen. If I had to choose a side in a fight, any fight, it doesn't even have to be a war, which one would I choose?

Loyalty has rarely saved someone. Selfishness yes. Reading testimonies of wars or massacres is enough to realize

And I love loyalty. I had teachers who pointed out my sense of loyalty. If we were in another century, I would die for loyalty. But sometimes being smart is better. No one would save you except yourself

Save yourself

30. If you don't have tattoos, and had to get one, what would you get tattooed on you? Is getting tattooed a big deal to you? If you are tattooed, do you regret any?

Getting a tattoo is a big deal because 1) I'm afraid of getting tired seeing it every day and 2) I'm terrified of needles :')

I'd like to have tattooed 天上天下唯我獨尊 in my chest. Does it look familiar? It's what the Toman uniforms wear embroidered on the chest. It's also a quote that is said in the Jujutsu Kaisen manga.

So this tattoo would mean two things. On one hand my love for TR and works of fiction, on the other hand Jjk was important to me because I read it when I was in a depression. Thanks to jjk I started writing fics and meeting wonderful people at a time when everything was wrong. It would symbolize my love for writing

Yes, it's a meaning completely removed from the original phrase. Nobody could guess lmao

I also thought about tattooing Izana's earring letter, because it's my favorite character, but I feel like it would be too typical(? Idk

49. If you have a nickname, where did it come from? Did you choose it, did someone else, did it naturally form?

No one ever irl gave me a nickname (not disrespectful I mean). But I have given myself my alter egos on the Internet.

I always use the same two names: Asha or Iskari. Asha, Iskari and I are the same person. Asha and Iskari come from a book called 'Iskari' nothing complicated, I just liked the name. Asha and Iskari are the same person, Asha her original name and Iskari a title

My name is me, my real self, from here. Asha is the Tumblr girl and I usually use it also for other social media where I don't put my real name. Iskari is the writer, although I don't mind using Asha as a nickname for writing. The 'Meyers' at the end (my ao3 count is 'meyers') is a last name I like. I was flipping through a World War II book once and I saw it on a guy driving a tank. I just liked it! It shows my interest in history

As a curiosity, my first nickname on the Internet was 'Chispa', which was the name of my first cat <3

As a curiosity too, my IG account doesn't have my real name too. My IG is the only social media where I treat myself with my real name but, yeah, I'm not using it in the nickname thing. Instead it's a version of my last name

#thanks for the ask<33 #@meyers #—asks🌸

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letterboxd · 3 years

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Careful How You Go.

Ella Kemp explores how film lovers can protect themselves from distressing subject matter while celebrating cinema at its most audacious.

Featuring Empire magazine editor Terri White, Test Pattern filmmaker Shatara Michelle Ford, writer and critic Jourdain Searles, publicist Courtney Mayhew, and curator, activist and producer Mia Bays of the Birds’ Eye View collective.

This story contains discussion of rape, sexual assault, abuse, self-harm, trauma and loss of life, as well as spoilers for ‘Promising Young Woman’ and ‘A Star is Born’.

We film lovers are blessed with a medium capable of excavating real-life emotion from something seemingly fictional. Yet, for all that film is—in the oft-quoted words of Roger Ebert—an “empathy machine”, it’s also capable of deeply hurting its audience when not wielded by its makers and promoters with appropriate care. Or, for that matter, when not approached by viewers with informed caution.

Whose job is it to let us know that we might be upset by what we see? With the coronavirus pandemic decimating the communal movie-going experience, the way we accommodate each viewer’s sensibilities is more crucial than ever—especially when so many of us are watching alone, at home, often unsupported.

In order to understand how we can champion a film’s content and take care of its audience, I approached women in several areas of the movie ecosystem. I wanted to know: how does a filmmaker approach the filming of a rape and its aftermath? How does a magazine editor navigate the celebration of a potentially triggering movie in one of the world’s biggest film publications? How does a freelance writer speak to her professional interests while preserving her personal integrity? How does a women’s film collective create a safe environment for an audience to process such a film? And, how does a publicist prepare journalists for careful reporting, when their job is to get eyeballs on screens in order to keep our favorite art form afloat?

The conversations reminded me that the answers are endlessly complex. The concerns over spoilers, the effectiveness of trigger warnings, the myriad ways in which art is crafted from trauma, and the fundamental question of whose stories these are to tell. These questions were valid decades ago, they will be for decades to come, and they feel especially urgent now, since a number of recent tales helmed by female and non-binary filmmakers depict violence and trauma involving women’s bodies in fearless, often challenging ways.

Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman, in particular, has revived a vital conversation about content consideration, as victims and survivors of sexual assault record wildly different reactions to its astounding ending. Shatara Michelle Ford’s quietly tense debut, Test Pattern, brings Black survivors into the conversation. And the visceral, anti-wish-fulfillment horror Violation, coming soon from Dusty Mancinelli and Madeleine Sims-Fewer, takes the rape-revenge genre up another notch.

These films come off the back of other recent survivor stories, such as Michaela Coel’s groundbreaking series I May Destroy You (which centers women’s friendship in a narrative move that, as Sarah Williams has eloquently outlined, happens too rarely in this field). Also: Kata Wéber and Kornél Mundruczó’s Pieces of a Woman, and the ongoing ugh-ness of The Handmaid’s Tale. And though this article is focused on plots centering women’s trauma, I acknowledge the myriad of stories that can be triggering in many ways for all manner of viewers. So whether you’ve watched one of these titles, or others like them, I hope you felt supported in the conversations to follow, and that you feel seen.

Weruche Opia and Michaela Coel in ‘I May Destroy You’.

* * *

Simply put, Promising Young Woman is a movie about a woman seeking revenge against predatory men. Except nothing about it is simple. Revenge movies have existed for aeons, and we’ve rooted for many promising young (mostly white) women before Carey Mulligan’s Cassie (recently: Jen in Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge, Noelle in Natalia Leite’s M.F.A.). But in Promising Young Woman, the victim is not alive to seek revenge, so it becomes Cassie’s single-minded crusade. Mercifully, we never see the gang-rape that sparks Cassie’s mission. But we do see a daring, fatal subversion of the notion of a happy ending—and this is what has audiences of Emerald Fennell’s jaw-dropping debut divided.

“For me, being a survivor, the point is to survive,” Jourdain Searles tells me. The New York-based critic, screenwriter, comedian—and host of Netflix’s new Black Film School series—says the presence of death in Promising Young Woman is the problem. “One of the first times I spoke openly about [my assault], I made the decision that I didn’t want to go to the police, and I got a lot of judgment for that,” she says. “So watching Promising Young Woman and seeing the police as the endgame is something I’ve always disagreed with. I left thinking, ‘How is this going to help?’”

“I feel like I’ve got two hats on,” says Terri White, the London-based editor-in chief of Empire magazine, and the author of a recently published memoir, Coming Undone. “One of which is me creating a magazine for a specific film-loving audience, and the other bit of me, which has written a book about trauma, specifically about violence perpetrated against the body. They’re not entirely siloed, but they are two distinct perspectives.”

White loved both Promising Young Woman and I May Destroy You, because they “explode the myth of resolution and redemption”. She calls the ending of Promising Young Woman “radical” in the way it speaks to the reality of what happens to so many women. “I was thinking about me and women like me, women who have endured violence and injury or trauma. Three women every week are still killed [in the UK] at the hands of an ex-partner, or somebody they know intimately, or a current partner. Statistically, any woman who goes for some kind of physical confrontation in [the way Cassie does] would end up dying.”

She adds: “I felt like the film was in service to both victims and survivors, and I use the word ‘victims’ deliberately. I call myself a victim because I think if you’ve endured either sexual violence or physical violence or both, a lot of empowering language, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t reflect the reality of being a victim or a survivor, whichever way you choose to call yourself.” This point has been one many have disagreed on. In a way, that makes sense—no victim or survivor can be expected to speak to anyone else’s experience but their own.

Carey Mulligan and Emerald Fennell on the set of ‘Promising Young Woman’.

Likewise, there is no right or wrong way to feel about this film, or any film. But a question that arises is, well, should everyone have to see a film to figure that out? And should victims and survivors of sexual violence watch this film? “I have definitely been picky about who I’ve recommended it to,” Courtney Mayhew says. “I don’t want to put a friend in harm’s way, even if that means they miss out on something awesome. It’s not worth it.”

Mayhew is a New Zealand-based international film publicist, and because of her country’s success in controlling Covid 19, she is one of the rare people able to experience Promising Young Woman in a sold-out cinema. “It was palpable. Everyone was so engaged and almost leaning forwards. There were a lot of laughs from women, but it was also a really challenging setting. A lot of people looking down, looking away, and there was a girl who was crying uncontrollably at the end.”

“Material can be very triggering,” White agrees. “It depends where people are personally in their journey. When I still had a lot of trauma I hadn’t worked through in my 20s, I found certain things very difficult to watch. Those things are a reality—but people can make their own decisions about the material they feel able to watch.”

It’s about warning, and preparation, more than total deprivation, then? “I believe in giving people information so they can make the best choice for themselves,” White says. “But I find it quite reductive, and infantilizing in some respects, to be told broadly, ‘Women who have experienced x shouldn’t watch this.’ That underestimates the resilience of some people, the thirst for more information and knowledge.” (This point is clearly made in this meticulous, awe-inspiring list by Jenn, who is on a journey to make sense of her trauma through analysis of rape-revenge films.) But clarity is crucial, particularly for those grappling with unresolved issues.

Searles agrees Promising Young Woman can be a difficult, even unpleasant watch, but still one with value. “As a survivor it did not make me feel good, but it gave me a window into the way other people might respond to your assault. A lot of the time [my friends] have reacted in ways I don’t understand, and the movie feels like it’s trying to make sense of an assault from the outside, and the complicated feelings a friend might have.”

Molly Parker and Vanessa Kirby in ‘Pieces of a Woman’.

* * *

A newborn dies. A character is brutally violated. A population is tortured. To be human is to bear witness to history, but it’s still painful when that history is yours, or something very close to it. “Some things are hard to watch because you relate to them,” Searles explains. “I find mother! hard to watch, and there’s no actual sexual assault. But I just think of sexual assault and trauma and domestic abuse, even though the film isn’t about that. The thing is, you could read an academic paper on patriarchy—you don’t need to watch it on a show [or in a film] if you don’t want to.”

White agrees: “I’ve never been able to watch Nil by Mouth, because I grew up in a house of domestic violence and I find physical violence against women on screen very hard to watch. But that doesn’t mean I think the film shouldn’t be shown—it should still exist, I’ve just made the choice not to watch it.” (Reader, since our conversation, she watched it. At 2:00am.)

“I know people who do not watch Promising Young Woman or The Handmaid’s Tale because they work for an NGO in which they see those things literally in front of their eyes,” Mayhew says. “It could be helpful for someone who isn’t aware [of those issues], but then what is the purpose of art? To educate? To entertain? For escapism? It’s probably all of those.”

Importantly, how much weight should an artist’s shoulders carry, when it comes to considering the audiences that will see their work? There’s a general agreement among my interviewees that, as White says, “filmmakers have to make the art that they believe in”. I don’t think any film lover would disagree, but, suggests Searles, “these films should be made with survivors in mind. That doesn’t mean they always have to be sensitive and sad and declawed. But there is a way to be provocative, while leaning into an emotional truth.”

Madeleine Sims-Fewer in ‘Violation’.

Violation, about which I’ll say little here since it is yet to screen at SXSW (ahead of its March 25 release on Shudder) is not at all declawed, and is certainly made with survivors in mind—in the sense that in life, unlike in movies, catharsis is very seldom possible no matter how far you go to find it. On Letterboxd, many of those who saw Violation at TIFF and Sundance speak of feeling represented by the rape-revenge plot, writing: “One of the most intentionally thought out and respectful of the genre… made by survivors for survivors” and “I feel seen and held”. (Also: “This movie is extremely hard to watch, completely on purpose.”)

“Art can do great service to people,” agrees White, “If, by consequence, there is great service for people who have been in that position, that’s a brilliant consequence. But I don’t believe filmmakers and artists should be told that they are responsible for certain things. There’s a line of responsibility in terms of being irresponsible, especially if your community is young, or traumatised.”

Her words call to mind Bradley Cooper’s reboot of A Star is Born, which many cinephiles knew to be a remake and therefore expected its plot twist, but young filmgoers, drawn by the presence of Lady Gaga, were shocked (and in some cases triggered) by a suicide scene. When it was released, Letterboxd saw many anguished reviews from younger members. In New Zealand, an explicit warning was added to the film’s classification by the country’s chief censor (who also created an entirely new ‘RP18’ classification for the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why, which eventually had a graphic suicide scene edited out two years after first landing on the streaming service).

“There is a duty of care to audiences, and there is also a duty of care to artists and filmmakers,” says Mayhew. “There’s got to be some way of meeting in the middle.” The middle, perhaps, can be identified by the filmmaker’s objective. “It’s about feeling safe in the material,” says Mia Bays of the Birds’ Eye View film collective, which curates and markets films by women in order to effect industry change. “With material like this, it’s beholden on creatives to interrogate their own intentions.”

Filmmaker Shatara Michelle Ford is “forever interrogating” ideas of power. Their debut feature, Test Pattern, deftly examines the power differentials that inform the foundations of consent. “As an artist, human, and person who has experienced all sorts of boundary violation, assault and exploitation in their life, I spend quite a lot of time thinking about power… It is something I grapple with in my personal life, and when I arrive in any workplace, including a film set.”

In her review of Test Pattern for The Hollywood Reporter, Searles writes, “This is not a movie about sexual assault as an abstract concept; it’s a movie about the reality of a sexual assault survivor’s experience.” Crucially, in a history of films that deal largely with white women’s experiences, Test Pattern “is one of the few sexual-assault stories to center a Black woman, with her Blackness being central to her experience and the way she is treated by the people around her.”

Brittany S. Hall in ‘Test Pattern’.

* * *

Test Pattern follows the unfolding power imbalance between Renesha (Brittany S. Hall) and her devoted white boyfriend Evan (Will Brill), as he drives her from hospital to hospital in search of a rape kit, after her drink was spiked by a white man in a bar who then raped her. Where Promising Young Woman is a millennial-pink revenge fantasy of Insta-worthy proportions, Test Pattern feels all too real, and the cops don’t come off as well as they do in the former.

Ford does something very important for the audience: they begin the film just as the rape is about to occur. We do not see it at this point (we do not really ever see it), but we know that it happened, so there’s no chance that, somewhere deeper into the story, when we’re much more invested, we’ll be side-swiped by a sudden onslaught of sexual violence. In a way, it creates a safe space for our journey with Renesha.

It’s one of many thoughtful decisions made by Ford throughout the production process. “I’m in direct conversation with film and television that chooses to depict violence against women so casually,” Ford tells me. “I intentionally showed as little of Renesha’s rape as humanly possible. I also had an incredibly hard time being physically present for that scene, I should add. What I did shoot was ultimately guided by Renesha’s experience of it. Shoot only what she would remember. Show only what she would have been aware of.

“But I also made it clear that this was a violation of her autonomy, by allowing moments where we have an arm’s length point of view. I let the camera sit with the audience, as I’m also saying, as the filmmaker, this happened, and you saw enough of it to know. This, for me, is a larger commentary on how we treat victims of assault and rape. I do not believe for one goddamn minute that we need to see the actual, literal violence to know what happened. When we flagrantly replicate the violence in film and television, we are supporting the cultural norm of needing ‘all of the evidence’—whatever that means—to ‘believe women’.”

Ford’s intentional work in crafting the romance and unraveling of Test Pattern’s leading couple pays off on screen, but their stamp as an invested and careful director also shows in their work with Drew Fuller, the actor who played Mike, the rapist. “It’s a very difficult role, and I’m grateful to him for taking it so seriously. When discussing and rendering the practice and non-practice of consent intentionally, I found it helpful to give it a clear definition and provide conceptual insight.

“I sent Drew a few articles that I used as tools to create a baseline understanding when it comes to exploring consent and power on screen. At the top of that list was Lili Loofbourow’s piece, The female price of male pleasure and Zhana Vrangalova's Teen Vogue piece, Everything You Need to Know about Consent that You Never Learned in Sex Ed. The latter in my opinion is the linchpin. There’s also Jude Elison Sady Doyle’s piece about the whole Aziz Ansari thing, which is a great primer.”

Sidney Flanigan in ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always’.

Even when a filmmaker has given Ford’s level of care and attention to their project, what happens when the business end of the industry gets involved in the art? As we well know, marketing is a film’s window dressing. It has one job: to get eyeballs into the cinema. It can’t know if every viewer should feel safe to enter.

It would be useful, with certain material, to know how we should watch, and with whom, and what might we need in the way of support coming out. Whose job is it to provide this? Beyond the crude tool of an MPAA rating (and that’s a whole sorry tale for another day), there are many creative precautions that can be taken across the industry to safeguard a filmgoer’s experience.

Mayhew, who often sees films at the earliest stages (sometimes before a final cut, sometimes immediately after), speaks to journalists in early screenings and ensures they have the tools to safely report on the topics raised. In New Zealand, reporters are encouraged to read through resources to help them guide their work. Mayhew’s teams would also ensure journalists would be given relevant hotline numbers, and would ask media outlets to include them in published stories.

“It’s not saying, ‘You have to do this’,” she explains, “It’s about first of all not knowing what the journalist has been through themselves, and second of all, [if] they are entertainment reporters who haven’t navigated speaking about sexual assault, you only hope it will be helpful going forward. It’s certainly not done to infantilize them, because they’re smart people. It’s a way to show some care and support.”

The idea of having appropriate resources to make people feel safe and encourage them to make their own decisions is a priority for Bays and Birds’ Eye View, as well. The London-based creative producer and cultural activist stresses the importance of sharing such a viewing experience. “It’s the job of cinemas, distributors and festivals to realize that it might not be something the filmmaker does, but as the people in control of the environment it’s our job to give extra resources to those who want it,” says Bays. “To give people a safe space to come down from the experience.”

Pre-pandemic, when Birds’ Eye View screened Kitty Green’s The Assistant, a sharp condemnation of workplace micro-aggressions seen through the eyes of one female assistant, they invited women who had worked for Harvey Weinstein. For a discussion after Eliza Hittman’s coming-of-ager Never Rarely Sometimes Always, abortion experts were able to share their knowledge. “It’s about making sure the audience knows you can say anything here, but that it’s safe,” Bays explains. “It’s kind of like group therapy—you don’t know people, so you’re not beholden to what they think about you. And in the cinema people aren’t looking at you. You’re speaking somewhat anonymously, so a lot of really important stuff can come out.”

The traditional movie-going experience, involving friends, crowds and cathartic, let-loose feelings, is still largely inaccessible at the time of writing. Over the past twelve months we’ve talked plenty about preserving the magic of the big screen experience, but it’s about so much more than the romanticism of an art form; it’s also about the safety that comes from a feeling of community when watching potentially upsetting movies.

“The going in and coming out parts of watching a film in the cinema are massively important, because it’s like coming out of the airlock and coming back to reality,” says Bays. “You can’t do that at home. Difficult material kind of stays with you.” During the pandemic, Birds’ Eye View has continued to provide the same wrap-around curatorial support for at-home viewers as they would at an in-person event. “If we’re picking a difficult film and asking people to watch it at home, we might suggest you watch it with a friend so you can speak about it afterwards,” Bays says.

Julia Garner in ‘The Assistant’.

But, then, how can we still find this sense of community without the physical closeness? “It’s no good waiting for [the internet] to become kind,” she says. “Create your own closed spaces. We do workshops and conversations exclusively for people who sign up to our newsletter. In real-life meetings you can go from hating something to hearing an eloquent presentation of another perspective and coming round to it, but you need the time and space to do that. This little amount of time gives you a move towards healing, even if it’s just licking some wounds that were opened on Twitter. But it could be much deeper, like being a survivor and feeling very conflicted about the film, which I do.”

Conflict is something that Searles, the film critic, knows about all too well in her work. “Since I started writing professionally, I almost feel like I’m known for writing about assault and rape at this point. I do write about it a lot, and as a survivor I continue to process it. I’ve been assaulted more than once so I have a lot to process, and so each time I’m writing about it I’m thinking about different aspects and remnants of those feelings. It can be very cathartic, but it’s a double-edged sword because sometimes I feel like I have an obligation to write about it too.”

There is also a constant act of self-preservation that comes with putting so much of yourself on the internet. “I often get messages from people thanking me for talking about these subjects with a deep understanding of what they mean,” Searles says. “I really appreciate that. I get negative messages about a lot of things, but not this one thing.”

Michaela Coel in ‘I May Destroy You’.

* * *

With such thoughtful approaches to heavy content, it feels like we’re a long way further down the road from blunt tools like content and trigger warnings. But do they still have their place? “It’s just never seemed appropriate to put trigger warnings on any of our reviews or features,” White explains. “We have a heavy male readership, still 70 percent male to 30 percent female. I’m conscious we’re talking to a lot of men who will often have experienced violence themselves, but we don’t put any warnings, because we are an adult magazine, and when we talk about violence in, say, an action film, or violence that is very heavily between men, we don’t caveat that at all.”

Bays, too, is sceptical of trigger warnings, explaining that “there’s not much evidence [they] actually work. A lot of psychologists expound on the fact that if people get stuck in their trauma, you can never really recover from PTSD if you don’t at some point face your trauma.” She adds: “I’m a survivor, and I found I May Destroy You deeply, profoundly triggering, but also cathartic. I think it’s more about how you talk about the work, rather than having a ‘NB: survivors of sexual abuse or assault shouldn’t see this’.”

“It’s important to give people a feel of what they’re in for,” argues Searles. “A lot of people who have dealt with suicide ideation would prefer that warning.” While some worry that a content warning is effectively a plot spoiler, Searles disagrees. “I don’t consider a content warning a spoiler. I just couldn’t imagine sitting down for a film, knowing there’s going to be a suicide, and letting it distract me from the film.” Still, she acknowledges the nuance. “I think using ‘self-harm’ might be better than just saying ‘suicide’.”

Mayhew shared insights on who actually decides which films on which platforms are preceded with warnings—turns out, it’s a bit messy. “The onus traditionally has fallen on governmental censorship when it comes to theatrical releases,” she explains. “But streamers can do what they want, they are not bound by those rules so they have to—as the distributors and broadcasters—take the government’s censors on board in terms of how they are going to navigate it.

“The consumer doesn’t know the difference,” she continues, “nor should they—so it means they can be watching The Crown on Netflix and get this trigger warning about bulimia, and go to the cinema the next day and not get it, and feel angry about it. So there’s the question of where is the responsibility of the distributor, and where is the responsibility of the audience member to actually find out for themselves.”

The warnings given to an audience member can also vary widely depending where they find themselves in the world, too. Promising Young Woman, for example, is rated M in Australia, R18 in New Zealand, and R in the United States. Meanwhile, the invaluable Common Sense Media recommends an age of fifteen years and upwards for the “dark, powerful, mature revenge comedy”. Mayhew says a publicist’s job is “to have your finger on the pulse” about these cultural differences. “You have to read the overall room, and when I say room I mean the culture as a whole, and you have to be constantly abreast of things across those different ages too.”

She adds: “This feeds into the importance of representation right at the top of those boardrooms and right down to the film sets. My job is to see all opinions, and I never will, especially because I am a white woman. I consider myself part of the LGBT community and sometimes I’ll bring that to a room that I think has been lacking in that area, when it comes to harmful stereotypes that can be propagated within films about LGBT people. But I can’t bring a Black person’s perspective, I cannot bring an Indigenous perspective. The more representation you have, the better your film is going to be, your campaign is going to be.”

Bays, who is also a filmmaker, agrees: representation is about information, and working with enough knowledge to make sure your film is being as faithful to your chosen communities as possible. “As a filmmaker, I’d feel ill-informed and misplaced if I was stumbling into an area of representation that I knew nothing about without finding some tools and collaborators who could bring deeper insight.”

Carey Mulligan and Bo Burnham in ‘Promising Young Woman’.

This is something Ford aimed for with Test Pattern’s choice of crew members, which had an effect not just on the end product, but on the entire production process. “I made sure that at the department head level, I was hiring people I was in community with and fully saw me as a person, and me them,” they say. “In some ways it made the experience more pleasurable.” That said, the shoot was still not without its incidents: “These were the types of things that in my experience often occur on a film set dominated by straight white men, that we're so accustomed to we sometimes don’t even notice it. I won’t go into it but what I will say is that it was not tolerated.”

Vital to the telling of the story were the lived experiences that Ford and their crew brought to set. “As it applies to the sensitive nature of this story, there were quite a few of us who have had our own experiences along the spectrum of assault, which means that we had to navigate our own internal re-processing of those experiences, which is hard to do when we’re constructing an experience of rape for a character.

“However, I think being able to share our own triggers and discomfort and context, when it came to Renesha’s experience, made the execution of it all the better. Again, it was a pleasure to be in community with such smart, talented and considerate women who each brought their own nuance to this film.”

* * *

Thinking about everything we’ve lived through by this point in 2021, and the heightened sensitivity and lowered mental health of film lovers worldwide, movies are carrying a pretty heavy burden right now: to, as Jane Fonda said at the Golden Globes, help us see through others’ eyes; also, to entertain or, at the very least, not upset us too much.

But to whom does film have a responsibility, really? Promising Young Woman’s writer-director Emerald Fennell, in an excellent interview with Vulture’s Angelica Jade Bastién, said that she was thinking of audiences when she crafted the upsetting conclusion.

What she was thinking was: a ‘happy’ ending for Cassie gets us no further forward as a society. Instead, Cassie’s shocking end “makes you feel a certain way, and it makes you want to talk about it. It makes you want to examine the film and the society that we live in. With a cathartic Hollywood ending, that’s not so much of a conversation, really. It’s a kind of empty catharsis.”

So let’s flip the question: what is our responsibility, as women and allies, towards celebrating audacious films about tricky subjects? The marvellous, avenging blockbusters that once sucked all the air out of film conversation are on pause, for now. Consider the space that this opens up for a different kind of approach to “must-see movies”. Spread the word about Test Pattern. Shout from the rooftops about It’s A Sin. Add Body of Water and Herself and Violation to your watchlists. And, make sure the right people are watching.

Brittany S. Hall and Will Brill in ‘Test Pattern’.

I asked my interviewees: if they could choose one type of person they think should see Promising Young Woman, who would it be? Ford has not seen Fennell’s film, but “it feels good to have my film contribute to a larger discourse that is ever shifting, ever adding nuance”. They are very clear on who can learn the most from their own movie.

“A white man is featured so prominently in Test Pattern as a statement about how white people and men have a habit of centering themselves in the stories of others, prioritizing their experience and neglecting to recognize those on the margins. If Evan is triggering, he should be. If your feelings about Evan vacillate, it is by design.

“‘Allies’ across the spectrum are in a complicated dance around doing the ‘right thing’ and ‘showing up’ for those they are ostensibly seeking to support,” Ford continues. “Their constant battle is to remember that they need to be centering the needs of those they were never conditioned to center. Tricky stuff. Mistakes will be made. Mistakes must be owned. Sometimes reconciliation is required.”

It is telling that similar thoughts emerged from my other interviewees regarding Promising Young Woman’s ideal audience, despite the fact that none of them was in conversation with the others for this story. For that reason, as we come to the end of this small contribution to a very large, ongoing conversation, I’ve left their words intact.

White: I think it’s a great film for men.

Searles: I feel like the movie is very much pointed at cisgender heterosexual men.

Mayhew: Men.

White: We’re always warned about the alpha male with a massive ego, but we’re not warned about the beta male who reads great books, listens to great records, has great film recommendations. But he probably slyly undermines you in a completely different way. Anybody can be a predator.

Searles: The actors chosen to play these misogynist, rape culture-perpetuating men are actors we think of as nice guys.

White: We are so much more tolerant of a man knocking the woman over the head, dragging her down an alley and raping her, because we understand that. But rape culture is made up of millions of small things that enable the people who do it. We are more likely to be attacked in our own homes by men we love than a stranger in the street.

Mayhew: The onus should not fall on women to call this out.

Searles: It’s not just creeps, like the ones you see usually in these movies. It’s guys like you. What are you going to do to make sure you’re not like this?

Related content

Sex Monsters, Rape Revenge and Trauma: a work-in-progress list

Rape and Revenge: a list of films that fall into, and play with, the genre

Unconsenting Media: a search engine for sexual violence in broadcasting

Follow Ella on Letterboxd

If you need help or to talk to someone about concerns raised for you in this story, please first know that you are not alone. These are just a few of the many organizations and resources available, and their websites include more information.

US: RAINN (hotline 0800 656 HOPE); LGBT National Help Center; Pathways to Safety; Time’s Up.

Canada: Canadian Association of Sexual Assault Centers—contacts by province and territory

UK/Ireland: Mind; The Survivors Trust (hotline 08088 010818); Rape Crisis England and Wales

Europe: Rape Crisis Network Europe

47 notes · View notes

elkian · 3 years

Text

I was gonna do a “missing the point”-style meme but I’m honestly not sure that would even work tho so:

Harry Potter and My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia have similar issues with introducing and then immediately ignoring ENORMOUS issues re: ableism.

I think these two series in specific come to mind bc it’s ableism within a specific empowered community, and in both cases the series are pretty well-known and the community (Wix/Heroes) are immediately identifiable to many audiences.

[WARNING: Discussions of ableism, child harm, and abuse on multiple levels.]

What’s the problem?

SQUIBS.

[This post got stupid huge SO here is a tl,dr for all you lovely people who understandably have no time for this.

TL, DR: Both Harry Potter and Boku No Hero have a bad tendency to implement or imply a level of disability regarding unempowered people in empowered societies. They then continue on to completely disregard important conclusions to these implications, such as how heavily it is implied that these unempowered people (Squibs) are so ‘worthless’ to those societies that their very deaths are merely a byline rather than an actual tragedy.

This is especially troubling in MHA/BNHA when so many other political and worldbuilding considerations HAVE been planned out, and seems to be less-discussed in the fandom as a whole, so that’s a much larger chunk of this post.]

That’s your tl, dr!

Here’s the Harry Potter angle:

HP has a bit that I’ve seen people discussing already: Neville’s magic was discovered when his uncle dropped a literal child a potenial lethal distance.

Neville activating his power and surviving is celebrated, and then JKR immediately glosses over the glaring issue this has introduced: the heavy implication that a Squib dying from this incident would have not have been mourned or even really commented on.

The few adult Squibs (and isn’t that a whole new slice of wonderful /j) are generally disliked and ridiculed for some reason or other. Now, while obviously there are plenty of places where the Venn diagram of “disabled” and “asshole” intersect irl, when your ONLY presentation of a disabled character or group is, every time, an asshole or a fool or both, boy! That’s bad!

Neville (who is generally presented as magically, physically, and mentally weak and often treated as comic relief) is a bit better via the POV Character constantly having positive interactions with him, but this is still a mess. Yes, Neville canonically is not a Squib, but it’s not subtle that he’s on the cusp OF being a Squib, and that is a key element of ridiculing him in many situations (also the whole trauma thing multiple times, like if I really get into it I could do a whole double-size post of how Neville was done dirty or nearly dirty by JK all the time but this isn’t that post).

This isn’t even the point of this post. Let’s move to MHA/BNHA

Hero Academia has differing but honestly even worse issues. And I’m aware that different countries handle ableism and accessibility in different ways, but if you think too hard about it this is an absolute clusterfuck.

What is the problem now?

Squibs! Or rather, the main character of the series, Midoriya Izuku.

Deku (a nickname meaning “useless”! Imparted after his disability is recognized! hilarity!!) is also born without powers. Even worse in some ways, he is born without powers in a world where the overwhelming majority of the global population has some kind of empowerment. I can’t recall if it’s outright stated or only implied that someone with a functionally useless (and hoo boy, usefullness to society is its own post nope not today i do not have that much energy) Quirk is still more of a person than a Quirkless human.

That sink in? Okay, let’s move on.

In a narratively not-uncommon turn of events, Deku gains power. This is partially a product of, and directly tied to, his own work and determination, as well as his willingness to help even when physically outmatched.

To an American audience (NOT the intended audience though I wouldn’t doubt it if Horikoshi meant to have international appeal more or less from the start), this is a deeply satisfying narrative. Who doesn’t love an underdog story? And we even learn that the strongest hero of all time (til this point, anyways) was ALSO born Quirkless!

However, from here, things take a nosedive.

The key problem is a combination of story progression and overall thought put into worldbuilding. Horikoshi’s efforts may not be the MOST thorough, but he has put a great deal of work and thought into his creation (he at least understands the concept of implications and sometimes plans accordingly, looking at you JKR). However, that tied with story progression and personal repercussions actually works to the detriment of the matter.

Especially given recent turns of events.

[BIG MEGA SPOILERS FOR FAIRLY RECENT PLOT

STOP HERE IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP

SERIOUSLY]

What I mean by this is the current state of events re: two particular recent/recent-ish plot arcs.

First, Quirk Removal, and second, Endeavor’s comeuppance.

Quirk Removal/Loss was the start of my realization to what the narrative was doing regarding Izuku’s Quirklessness and the state of being overall.

This arc was a perfect time to bring up Midoriya’s past! A lot of Western works certainly would have done so! And yes, it may be bordering on done-to-death, but many elements of Hero Academia put new twists on common themes and cliches; it wasn’t unreasonable to hope that he might do it again.

Instead, little to NOTHING is discussed during this time! In fact, iirc I’d go so far as to say Midoriya straight-up never considers his past at any point during this arc!? If I’m wrong then it obviously made little impact.

NOW, not every disabled character needs to incorporate their disability and/or skills gleaned from living with it in every narrative. In fact, it would get tedious and questionable if they did (note: this does NOT mean ignoring/forgetting the character is even disabled when convenient. Like, I’d like to think that’s the obvious point of this post but... *gestures at tumblr*).

But the complete lack of it here feels really weird. Like, almost hollow. I think Midoriya makes some kind of suggestion to Mirio of his former Quirklessness at the end of the arc, but nothing that made any kind of impact.

Let’s move on.

Endeavor.

Now, the problem with Endeavor’s arc is not the arc itself. Or, rather, it’s the fact that Endeavor’s Comeuppance is pretty good.

This is a problem because someone else should be getting this exact same arc, yet the issue is never even RECOGNIZED, let alone addressed.

Endeavor’s abuse of his wife and children, all in the name of creating a Heroic legacy, is publicized and tanks his popularity. The general public is now aware of what he’s done to the people closest to him, which aside from giving him a more correct reputation, means they can’t trust him to protect them if they can’t trust him to protect his own family.

This isn’t the goal of this post and I’m no expert regardless, but up to this point (around chapter 290) this was handled in an interesting way. Endeavor is humanized and often shown interacting with people in a way that, while often domineering, isn’t always aggressive or abusive. He runs a Hero Agency for crying out loud! But abuse in the real world often isn’t constant, nor happening to everyone in contact with the abuser. So this is a surprisingly good lead up to the reveal, where you can understand how most people never realized this was an issue.

But here’s my main point. Let’s examine some traits and actions that come up:

physically abusive to a child (often dangerously so) to the point of permanent trauma and severe scarring in some cases

target of abuse was weaker (physically and/or regarding Quirk power)

often abused victim emotionally/psychologically, bringing this weakness up again and again

own immense power led to rising in the world of Heroics

comrades, fellow Heroes, UA teachers etc. not aware of prior abuse issues

Who does this sound like?

Endeavor, who has a whole fucking arc dedicated to this reveal and repercussions?

Or Bakugou?

Reminder: This isn’t a hate post. This isn’t a character post, or even an abuse post. This is about ableism.

Bakugou exhibits many, many traits and actions that Endeavor was literally just punished for. So why does the treatment of these characters in-universe differ so drastically?

Two primary reasons I can think of, which feed into each other:

1) Bakugou was a child (still technically is a minor, remember! Still a first-year high schooler!) when this started. This doesn’t mean he’s strictly innocent, but it’s an important point, because it leads us to

2) Bakugou Katsuki’s abuse of Midoriya Izuku is socially accepted.

Reminder of the audience’s first encounter with Katsuki. The very first page with him is him and his grade-school posse picking on a kid that Izuku is trying to protect. His posse is showing off their Quirk powers and mocking Izuku’s lack thereof.

Then we flash forward to late-middle school versions of the kids. Bakugou, in front of a fucking teacher and entire class, is verbally, physically, etc. abusive to Izuku. He trashes his stuff, threatens him, tells him to kill himself (which, as Izuku notes later, is a fucking felony in Japan too).

No one stops him.

No one criticizes him.

We don’t even get a shot of like, some more ‘regular’ students being like “man Bakugou’s kinda fucked up but we’re too scared to do anything about it” NO. NO. Everyone more or less either backs Katsuki up or straight up doesn’t care.

Remember that this started when Katsuki and Izuku were four. Remember that Katsuki’s power is absurdly dangerous, ie. LITERAL. GODDAMN. EXPLOSIONS.

Izuku has scars. He probably has hearing loss! He may have gotten at least one concussion which can cause serious neurological issues and open him up to further risk!

He could have died.

And?

NO ONE. DOES. ANYTHING.

THIS is the point of the post. THIS is the value placed on Quirkless people in this society.

And yet. Despite Endeavor’s comeuppance. Despite All Might and Izuku’s blatant ‘value’ to society through Heroics. Despite so many other political implications and quandaries address in the Hero Academia series.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing about this is addressed. The nearly-lethal ableism towards Quirkless people in this society is never ONCE brought up properly once Izuku receives One For All.

There is so much potential here! There is so much worth talking about! And yet we’ve moved into what feels very much like the Final Battle without it being addessed, despite numerous, numerous opportunities for a meaningful conversation about it along the way.

Mirio losing his power! Hell, Mirio’s powers’ drawbacks (and pretty much every Quirk’s drawback! if acknowledged properly!) border on a disability-analogue, and even more when Yuga’s laser comes up, and yet again and again we fail to truly engage with the matter in a meaningful way.

At this point, even if it comes up in the finale, I’m going to be disappointed in this particular aspect of the series due to the complete and total shut-down it’s been given so far.

What the FUCK, Horikoshi?

#elk text #24th #February #2021 #February 24th 2021 #I hope the bold helps with reading #long post warn #elk has thoughts #sorry for the ramble #Ableism #other shit comes up but plz keep in mind that that is the PRIMARY POINT OF THIS #also:#child abuse warn #abuse warn #harry potter spoilers warn #boku no hero spoilers #like REAL BIG spoilers for later Hero Academia stuff!#this is not a character hate post and i will block judiciously #elk has feelings

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 8

Chapters: 8/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

“We shouldn’t go in,” Jon tells his giggling partners very firmly, but they pay him no mind, and he gets dragged by the hand into the storefront.

The girl working the front desk looks up with a vaguely alarmed look on her face, probably because Gerry and Martin look drunk, despite it being 11 A.M. on a Sunday. They are not, although Jon can understand why someone would think that, as they march right up to the desk, faces flushed, still laughing boisterously.

“Is Melanie in? She’s a good mate of mine.” Gerry tells the receptionist.

“Yes, I’ll check with her if she has a second for you.” And she scuttles off to the back.

“It’s Gerry!” He calls off behind her, before turning to grin at Jon. “Don’t hover in the doorway, babe, Melanie doesn’t bite.”

“Melanie is in fact, perfectly capable of biting,” Jon mutters petulantly, as he moves further into the room to eye the art on the walls. “Especially when you used to date her girlfriend.”

“Oh look, my favorite emo goth boy!” Melanie yells, exploding out the back of the store, all 5 feet of her filled with frenzied energy. Her face immediately sours when she catches sight of Jon, hiding behind Martin. “And my least favourite douche bag.”

“Now, now firecracker, be nice to my boyfriend.” Gerry pulls her into a hug, which leads to a headlock and a swift jab to his ribs.

“I’m very happy to be nice to Martin,” She responds sweetly, blowing him a kiss. “What brings you lot over to darken my doorstep?”

“Piercings,” Gerry tells her with an unnatural amount of glee.

“Jon agreed to let me pierce him?” Melanie asks, perking right up at the idea of causing Jon pain.

“No!” Jon exclaims.

At the same time, Gerry says, “Nah, he’s not interested, but Martin and I were wanting something each.”

“Martin?” Melanie asks dubiously, eyeing up sweet-looking, pink-haired, cardigan-clad Martin.

“Yes,” Martin confirms with false solemnity. “Boyfriends who bleed together stay together.”

“You know,” Melanie remarks, grinning at them, “I have heard about that Pagan ritual.”

Jon has slunk over to a wall of healed artwork and concept designs, managing to avoid Melanie's barbs. As far as he is concerned, the art isn’t as interesting as Gerry’s work. Although, he supposes that what you can make beautiful on a canvas is very different from what you can make beautiful on someone's skin.

“I’ve got a bit of an opening now, what do you want to get?” She asks Gerry.

“Well, you know I’ve been wanting to have my nipples done.” He offers, teal eyes looking slightly wild.

“Yeah?” She grins in triumph, “I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Yup and Martin has been considering something for his ears.”

“Hmmm,” She wanders over to Martin to examine him. “Open for suggestions?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re a good shape. Double helix?” She looks to Gerry for affirmation.

“Definitely.” He smirks, eyes lighting up with satisfaction.

"Two?" Martin looks slightly dubious.

"If you do them together, the pain is only a tiny bit more, and the healing time is two-for-one," Melanie reassures him, and Jon thinks it's the nicest she's ever sounded. "It's up to you though, of course."

Jon steals himself to brave the fray, going over to take Martin's hand. It's slightly clammy with the nerves that Gerry's enthusiasm has prevented up until this point.

"It won't be so bad, love." He presses a kiss to Martin's cheek, offering his support. "Just a small jab, then it's done."

"Let's do it."

***

There's a brief fuss with consent forms, aftercare instructions, and payment.

"I don't know what you lot," Melanie instructs Gerry firmly, gesturing between them, "get up to in the bedroom, but no twisting, no pulling, no biting, no sucking your nipples for 12 weeks."

Jon blushes, but Gerry and Martin aren't bothered. "Yeah, firecracker, I know the drill. This isn't my first circus."

"Kinky little shit," Jon mutters under his breath, but the goth only winks at him.

Martin's care instructions are less suggestive, and Gerry and Jon both promise to help him with it.

“Martin should go first,” Melanie pronounces, patting the piercing chair as she disinfects her hands and gloves up.

“Me?” Martin asks.

“Yup, yours will be a lot simpler, and I don’t want to traumatise you by making you watch nipple piercings before your turn.”

Martin climbs on the chair, looking a little pale, but resolute. Jon stands on the side not occupied by Melanie, gripping his hand reassuringly. Gerry stands slightly behind the chair, hand on Martin's shoulder.

The ear piercings are almost comically quick and easy. Two quick pinches, less painful than bee stings, and then Martin's ear is pierced and adorned with small hoops.

He sighs with relief and oh's with delight when Gerry hands him a mirror to check them out.

"I love it!" He exclaims, beaming at Jon and Gerry. They smile back at him, each taking a turn to kiss him on the cheek or forehead, their own relief palpable.

"It's just you and me now," Melanie grins at Gerry and gestures for him to strip.

He shucks off his trench coat and black t-shirt, and stands in front of her, completely at ease.

Jon takes a moment to wonder if he has managed to get himself into a relationship with a masochist. Not because of the piercings, but because Gerry seems to genuinely enjoy being friends with Melanie.

The nipple piercings seem to be a much more complicated process, with markings and adjustments, but several rounds of cleaning and disinfecting later, Melanie runs a metal piercing bar through first one nipple and then the other. Gerry hisses with discomfort but stands carefully steady.

She steps back to make sure they look straight and even, before declaring it a success.

"Nice," Gerry says succinctly, looking in the large upright mirror, nodding his head enthusiastically. He and Melanie high five, and she condescends to grip him in a firm hug from the side.

"You sure I can't tempt you, Jon?" Melanie asks him sweetly as she starts to clean up her station, Gerry putting his clothes back on close by.

Knowing she just wants to cause him pain, Jon tells her firmly, "No, thank you."

He is over by the wall again, looking at different art this time, including a picture of a tattoo that catches his focus. It's a playing card amid a complex arm sleeve, an Ace of diamonds, and despite a lifelong disinterest in tattoos, it speaks to him.

"I think you'd look better with a spade, love.” Gerry manages to startle Jon slightly, appearing beside him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Jon marvels at his apparent ability to read his mind.

“You think so?” Jon queries, softly. Gerry hums his affirmation. “It's a bit much though, don't you think?”

"You don't need the whole card, for what you want. Just the A and the spade. Small and bold." He picks up Jon's hand, indicating the spot below his thumb on his wrist.

Gently releasing it, Gerry grabs a pen and scrap of paper and rapidly draws out a solid, simple design.

Jon glances over at Melanie, extremely dubious. "Maybe we can go somewhere else to get it?" He whispers.

Gerry laughs warmly, tapping the small piece of paper. "I could do it for you myself."

Jon blinks at him, rather owlishly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can give you the tattoo. I'm probably a bit rusty, but I did survive a full tattoo apprenticeship. I’ve done about a million over the years, although I had to give up my machine when I moved to London."

"You did a tattoo apprenticeship?" Martin asks from nearby, tone skeptical.

"Yup, when I was living in Edinburgh. All three years." Gerry tells them casually. "That's where I met Melanie, actually."

Jon and Martin exchange a baffled look, but choose to simply file it under 'Things Gerry tells us out of order.'

“Well, if you can do it...” Jon sounds a bit floaty but he is staring at the design yearningly, which Gerry knows is a good sign.

"Firecracker," Gerry yells over to Melanie, "Can I borrow your machine?"

***

Melanie makes the stencil while Gerry reacquaints himself with the tattoo gun, setting everything up and getting used to the weight of it in his hand again. The rhythm is always the same with tattooing and he feels himself fall into the past a bit.

When everything is ready, he gestures Jon over to sit in the chair, smiling beatifically.

Jon is shaking a little as he slides up onto it, and Gerry presses a reassuring kiss to his hand before he starts the prep.

"You ready?"

Jon gulps. "Yes."

Martin comes over to take Jon's other hand and Melanie hovers nearby, wanting to watch Gerry like a hawk the entire time he's handling her machine. ("It's the true love of her life," Gerry had confessed to Martin earlier. "Don't tell Georgie.")

Gerry follows the same procedure with any tattoo: cleanse, shave, cleanse again. Numbing cream, in this case, to prevent nerve twitches, then alcohol rub down. Eventually, he applies the stencil carefully, making sure to get it straight and in the correct place.

He checks with Jon, making sure that it is where he wants it. Jon confirms, smiling to see the design on his skin for the very first time.

As the buzz of the machine fills the space, Jon and Gerry make eye contact for a moment. Jon's earthy green eyes are wide, and Gerry can almost see where his pulse pounds through his jaguar vein. He stills a moment, really checking Jon's energy.

He's nervous, it's obvious to see, but Gerry can also see the real desire in him, and with a wink, turns to look down at his new canvas. He sets to work, the buzzing of the needle filling the air.

***

"I love it," Jon whispers to Gerry later, lying in the circle of his arms, Martin's warm weight at his back.

"I love it too." Gerry kisses his forehead sweetly, almost asleep. "Martin, what do you think of your ear?"

"I think boyfriends who commit to pain together stay together," Martin mutters drowsily, repeating his sentiment from earlier.

"Ah, yes," Jon mutters, "The great cosmic bond of suffering."

They laugh easily, the hot excitement of the day echoing within them, yet another thread in the colourful tapestry of their relationship.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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hamliet · 5 years

Text

MXTX Ladies’ Week: Girls, Goddesses, and Ghosts

After writing about Scum Villain’s female cast here and MDZS’s here, it’s time to write about Heaven Official’s Blessing’s female cast... which is actually smaller than the other two in quantity but imo, in quality, is far greater. Most of the women do not die, and several have fantastic arcs. They’re allowed to be kickass, to make their own decisions, to be morally flawed, to be extremely feminine, to be emotional, to be ugly, and to even be villains--and the whole while, the story depicts them with empathy.

So let’s start with the mortals. This is again more a ramble than a direct meta.

The Humans:

Me, skipping happily into TGCF, immediately loving one character, and her dying like ten chapters in:

Yes, I’m talking about Xiao Ying. I also realize I said that most of TGCF’s female characters don’t get killed off, so I’m not leading off with a convincing argument (she is the only one who really does).

Little Ying’s role in the narrative is as a parallel to Xie Lian and a way to introduce the main themes of the story, which her arc encapsulates. A teenage girl who is noted to be physically unattractive, she’s introduced to us praying to Feng Xin for protection. The god who she prays to for protection from whomever is stealing the brides comments cruelly on her appearance, foreshadowing how corrupt heaven is, and Xie Lian quickly realizes that someone has tried to humiliate her already by cutting a hole in the back of her skirt, hinting at the theme of human cruelty and suffering. He is kind to her, and in return, she helps him prepare for his undercover mission to catch the bride thief, showing the the answer to her prayers is through her own work and kindness, and the connections she makes (with Xie Lian in this case).

The reader quickly learns that Little Ying might not be physically beautiful, but she has a beautiful heart, taking care of a scarred ghost who lives in the mountains (Lang Ying). Yet people turn on her and scorn her when she tries to protect Lang Ying, because humanity is often cruel to their own, and an orphan girl who is unattractive is a target. Yet, unlike the rest of the crowd gathered by the house where all the brides have been stolen away to, she wants to help. But her attempts to help, to save everyone, get her killed, and it’s noted that they do not actually help.

Softly, she said, “I feel as though my entire life, there weren’t many days where I lived happy.”

Xie Lian also didn’t know what to say, and gently patted her hand. Little Ying sighed, “Oh well, forget it. I might just be someone……born unlucky.”

This is something that repeats in Xie Lian’s arc as well: he often winds up hurting where he tried to help (as with Jun Wu, too), and sacrificing oneself is looked at, as it is in MDZS, with nuance in TGCF. Little Ying did not need to die. There’s a futility to human suffering in TGCF: it doesn’t bring a purpose, it isn’t glorious, and it doesn’t always make someone a better or worse person. It just is.

Yet it’s also worth noting that the story is asking: when society treats you a certain way because of things you cannot help, such as gender, appearance, and economic status, what power do you have to decide your fate? The answer is what brings comfort to Little Ying in her last minutes: she’s not alone. Xie Lian stays with her as she dies. Little Ying, too, made an effort to make sure others were not alone (Lang Ying). Suffering is unbearable, but if you’re not alone, there is comfort.

The Demons:

Two of the demon ladies are fantastic deconstructions of female character stereotypes: the crazed ex (Xuan Ji) and the evil seductress (Jian Lan).

(remember this meme? it plays into the crazy ex trope too)

Xuan Ji is the scorned woman who murders brides to vent her frustration at the world (and at Pei Ming, the lover who abandoned her). She is Little Ying’s counterpart in the first arc, in that while Little Ying is a Xie Lian parallel, Xuan Ji is a parallel to our main antagonist, Bai WuXiang, in that she’s determined to take out her misfortune on literally everyone around her. But she is in genuine pain, which the novel takes care to note:

Under her long hair, her tears started to fall as she said, “I’ve waited for him for centuries, what important matter does he have? Back then, in order to see me, he would cross half of the border in a single night, so what important matter could he have now? So important that he wouldn’t even be willing to see me once? An important matter? He doesn’t actually have one, right?”

It’s not portraying Pei Ming as a poor sad victim here; on the contrary, his treatment of Xuan Ji is condemned. She betrayed her army for him, and he doesn’t like her because, in many ways, he comes across as a chauvinist (at first. This is later unpacked too, but that’s for another meta).

“General Pei does not like strong-minded women, and Xuan Ji’s natural disposition is strong-willed. This is why they could not stay together for long. General Xuan Ji was unwilling to let go, so she said to General Pei that she was willing make sacrifices and change herself. Thus, she voluntarily abolished her martial arts and broke her own two legs. In this way, she did the equivalent of breaking both her wings and tying herself to General Pei. Despite all this, General Pei didn’t abandon her. He took her in and looked after her, yet, he still wouldn’t take her as his wife. Because General Xuan Ji’s long-cherished wish could not be fulfilled, she killed herself in hate. Not for any other reason, but only to make General Pei feel sad and aggrieved.

Again, harming yourself for the sake of someone else is not presented as a good thing in TGCF. The story does a good job of pointing out that both sides can be at fault; there isn’t a black and white, one is evil and the other good situation in the story. Because Xuan Ji then won’t give up and makes it her mission to torture and humiliate Pei Ming, which she does the former and tries for the latter on numerous occasions. Yet the conclusion to their arc is Pei Ming finally telling her:

...it was Pei Ming who abandoned Xuan Ji first, this female ghost also killed countless after, trying to kill them time and time again... looking like this, she was a little pitiful.

Pei Ming looked back at her, and in the end, he only said, “Xuan Ji, it’s time you wake up.”

“Wake up what.” Xuan Ji was confused.

“That you’ve become this way, I’m part of the reason, but a majority of it is by your own decisions. You’ve done so much but you can only move your own heart, I’m a steel-hearted man. Rather than love me, why don’t you go love yourself.”

He yanked back his robes from Xuan Ji’s hold, and left without looking back.

It’s not that he’s innocent in how he treated her (he isn’t), and it’s not that Xuan Ji’s pain isn’t real, but what we do with our suffering is the pivot on which everyone’s character arc in TGCF swings, and so just as Pei Ming finally decides to take responsibility for his actions, so does Xuan Ji. And after she finally lets go of her resentment, she is able to dissipate and leave the world, entering into a reincarnation cycle.

Jian Lan is originally portrayed to us as Lan Cheng, a vulgar-tongued prostitute who is the mother of a demonic murdering ghost baby, CuoCuo. Yet eventually the reader finds out she was actually a potential concubine for Xie Lian and, after the kingdom of Xian Le fell, she became a prostitute, and CuoCuo is actually the son of Feng Xin, one of Xie Lian’s best friends. Feng Xin promises to take care of them, but Jian Lan tells Xie Lian this in the end:

"having Cuo Cuo is enough for me. Who hasn’t made promises or swore to the mountains and the seas when they were young? Talking of affection, of love, of forevers. But, the longer I hung around in the world, the more I understand, something like ‘forever’ is impossible. It’s never going to be possible. Having it once was already good enough. No one can truly achieve it. I don’t believe in it anymore.”

It’s not that the story wants to imply that forever really isn’t possible (Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s relationship counters this), but it also doesn’t invalidate Jian Lan’s choice.

“What you’ve said are all things of the past. What was love once doesn’t mean it’ll last. To be a charity case and a nuisance, I’m not interested.”

“Why would he think you both a nuisance?” Xie Lian asked, “Don’t you know the kind of person Feng Xin is?”

“You, His Highness the Crown Prince, you have never lived the common life, so of course you’d think things are that simple. He won’t now, and he won’t on the surface either. But once time gets dragged out, then nothing could be sure.

It’s her choice, and her choice not to risk trying love with Feng Xin again is respected by the narrative. Her choice parallels Xuan Ji’s, but unlike Xuan Ji, Jian Lan’s problem was never that she cared too much about a cast-off lover, but that she did not want to tell said lover the truth. Now that she has, her choices and her freedom to decide her fate remain. She too is not alone: she has her son.

The last demonic ghost character is Ban Yue, another Xie Lian parallel. She is an orphan girl, mistreated, and later a high priestess of Banyue. She states Xie Lian’s words “I, too want to save the world,” and says that she took his teachings to heart.

She’s noted to be very lonely, and after Xie Lian “died” saving her, she finds someone to cling to in Pei Su (Pei Ming’s descendent). Once they find out the kingdom of Banyue plans to destroy the city itself and everyone around it, Ban Yue opens the gates for Pei Su to slaughter everyone in the city--but at least the people outside it will survive. It’s a complex moral decision that doesn’t have an easy answer.

“You also said, ‘Do what you think is right!’” Ban Yue told him.

‘....what… nonsense! … Why did I keep saying those kinds of things… I’m nothing like that at all… am I??’ Xie Lian thought.

“But, I don’t know what’s right anymore.” Ban Yue said.

Xie Lian froze.

Ban Yue’s sulky voice buzzed from the pot, “I thought I was doing the right thing, but in the end it was me who opened the gates that let in the enemy who slaughtered my people... But if I didn’t open the gates, the Banyue people would terrorize the Midlands and hurt more people... I really wanted to do well as the Head Priestess. But, not only did I opened the gates, I killed them, and refused them human flesh. If they didn’t feed on human flesh they’d suffer, and I couldn’t relieve them of that suffering... It’s like no matter what I did, the result was going to be bad... I know I didn’t do things right, but can you tell me, where did I go wrong?”

Hearing her question, Xie Lian rubbed the back of his neck and said slowly, “I’m sorry, Ban Yue. The answer to that question, I’d not known it back then, and now… I don’t think I know the answer now either.”

The thing is, if Xie Lian hadn’t gotten himself “killed” saving her, the gates wouldn’t have been opened. Yet, if he didn’t sacrifice himself, she would be dead. There isn’t a right or a wrong choice; it’s complex morally. It also foreshadows what will happen in Book 2, when a flashback reveals to us that Xie Lian himself learned the hard way that there isn’t always a way to save everyone through the fall of his kingdom Xian Le.

The Goddesses:

My favorite female character in TGCF is YuShi Huang, or the Princess who Slit Her Throat. She’s not dead though; she’s a goddess whose quick thinking saved her family’s kingdom. She’s a Xie Lian parallel in that she is a laughingstock; Pei Ming is noted to have led a siege against her kingdom and have mocked her cruelly in her life. However, YuShi Huang, being the youngest of sixteen children, become the unlikely heir who saves her father and her kingdom, and later will grow to save those who laugh at her.

She has a kind, self-sacrificing personality like Xie Lian, but she does warn Xie Lian when she helps him by lending him her spiritual device to give his kingdom water that rain is a limited resource, and there’s only so much that he can do. She’s in other words a mite wiser than Xie Lian is at this point--if Little Ying can be seen as him in his childlike stage, trying to save everyone, and Ban Yue as his adolescent phase of character development when he’s started to question, then YuShi Huang can be seen as his parallel once he matures--which is why the reveal of just who the Lord Rain Master is comes very late in the story. Her wisdom is used to save and to heal what she can (such as smuggling Hua Cheng to Xie Lian), but she knows she cannot do everything.

She also foils Xuan Ji, in that both are from YuShi and were treated cruelly by Pei Ming in life. However, she ultimately saves Pei Ming several times, and when Xuan Ji passes on, she performs a passing service for the ghost. Pei Ming’s subsequent... embarrassment (schoolboy crush? It’s kinda questionable based on the explicit parallels with Xuan Ji, and Xuan Ji’s outright accusations of him liking her in dialogue with him) over how YuShi Huang saved him is also rather amusing.

Aaaand then there’s the other goddess. Ling Wen has the distinction of being the only complex MXTX character I struggle to like. (Jun Wu used to be on this list but. Writing him helped me like him. Not so much with Ling Wen--but I do think she’s a well done character so please note that my dislike is purely my personal opinion and not an accusation of narrative failing nor an implication that anyone should not stan her (by all means, do so!))

She’s a Jun Wu parallel in many ways, which is why she’s the only god who winds up on his side even after all he’s done comes to light. Her role in a corrupt and sexist court is also not unsympathetic: she’s often worshipped in her male form, so she adopts it, she was mistreated by the literature god before her, and she’s angry about it (every woman who’s seen men get promoted ahead of them in an office can feel this on a--hem--spiritual level). Her anger is justified, and it’s hilarious how the Upper Court cannot actually function without her and so her punishment for her crimes essentially amounts to “please just do your job.”

She’s also only character who does not have a close relationship with anyone, and this is almost certainly deliberate in response to the unfairness and the sexism and cruelty of the world and how it treats her, as a woman. She tells Xie Lian:

“Something like a genuine heart is made to be trampled...”

After a long silence, Xie Lian said, “You said ‘similar to him’. So, was General Bai Jing like this too?”

Ling Wen smiled lightly, “Why else would he be deceived by me?”

...

Xie Lian said, “… you wanted to help General Bai Jing in becoming a Supreme, and have him wake to his senses, right?”

Ling Wen gave a small laugh, “Your highness, don’t say it like I would do anything for him. After all, I’m cold-blooded and recognized no loved ones, so why would I do anything like that?”

Her closest relationship is with the Brocade Immortal Bai Jing, someone she transformed into an object. But if, as Xie Lian implies, she wanted to awaken Bai Jing again, it may imply that she might be lonely and long for connection after all, even if she is afraid to take the risks involved in human connection. Hopefully she’ll be able to connect again, now that the gods are incredibly grateful to her for doing the job none of them could do. Like Jun Wu, she has a chance.

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hob meta #tgcf meta #tian guan ci fu #mxtx meta #mxtx ladies week #ling wen #yushi huang #ban yue #xiao ying #jian lan #xie lian

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max-is-tired · 5 years

Text

Magic Mirror (Mirror’s Magic) Chapter 2

Pairing: brotherly Logince, future romantic Royality

Characters: Roman Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Logan Sanders (mentioned), Patton Sanders (mentioned)

Words: 2.809

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Roman angst, implied character death, captivity, magic, morally-grey Deceit Sanders, Roman takes a very brash decision and someone else has to bear the consequences, please tell me if I forgot something

Notes: You guys have no idea how proud I am of this part -I had to split it in two bc it was becoming a monster of a chapter, but this right here?? God, I’m so so happy with how it turned out.

Thank you so much to @tigertigertigger for betaing this chapter and, well, I swear this fic will have a happy ending. It’ll just take a while to get there.

I hope you enjoy your daily dose of angst :)

(This story is heavily inspired by two Vocaloid songs. This chapter -and the next one- are inspired by this song.)

Commission me!!

Read on AO3!!

Go check @keuwibird‘s amazing art for this fic here!!

First || Next

We’ve seen Patton’s story unfold, everything beginning in an inconspicuous little cottage in the woods.

We’ve seen how a simple wish has granted him a second chance, seen how his selflessness brought an entire kingdom, destroyed by war and death, back to its former grandeur.

We’ve seen how Patton was given the most tempting of gifts, the power to bend reality itself right to his fingertips, and chose happiness, kindness, love –and we’ve seen exactly how high of a price he had to pay for it.

“What happens next?” You might ask.

Unfortunately, that is a difficult question to answer. Before we can properly do so, there’s one more tale we need to tell, one more destiny we need to show.

It’s the story of a young boy, born with magic buzzing through his veins and a million dreams running through his head.

It’s the story of a young prince, second son of the late king and queen, destined to serve and protect his kingdom and its people until his last breath.

It’s the story of a young knight, as talented with the sword as his brother is with words, forest green eyes twinkling red when emotions run wild and caramel brown hair always messed up by running in the wind.

It’s a story of magic, of choices, of misery and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of love.

It’s not a happy story, this one –and it all starts with betrayal.

+++

They thought they were prepared for it.

Logan had never been really loved by their so-called allies, even less since their parents died and he took their place on the throne –he’s young and quick-witted, well-versed in the arts of politics and diplomacy.

They couldn’t fool him with treaties and complicated negotiations, they’d learned that soon enough –Roman has had more than once the satisfaction to see that realization dawn on their faces, standing proudly at his brother’s side while barely being able to keep himself from giving them the smuggest smile he can muster.

So yeah, both Logan and Roman have always been very much aware of the fact that most representatives from the neighboring kingdoms aren’t very fond of them. Still, never in a million years could they have predicted it would all come to this.

Roman stares blankly at the ruined blue robe in the guard’s hands, eyes fixed on the dark patches covering the all-too-familiar golden ornaments –that’s Logan’s coat, he would recognize it anywhere, their family’s crest almost impossible to recognize under all the dried blood that’s Logan’s blood those bastards killed his brother-

“My prince,” comes a voice from his side, the captain of the royal guard stepping forward with a gaze as hard as steel and his mouth set into a thin line, “this means war.”

Silence falls in the room, heavy and charged as the prince takes a deep breath and straightens his back. When Roman opens his eyes again, they’re blazing red, a familiar fire burning inside him as his magic rumbles angrily in his soul.

“Then war they’ll have.”

+++

When Roman marches into war, there isn’t a single ounce of doubt or regret in his mind –those bastards have taken his brother away from him, and he’s dead set on making them pay for it dearly, no matter what it will take.

At that moment, he’s more than ready to sacrifice his own kingdom if it means Logan’s murderers will burn down with it. Who cares if he survives it all? At least his brother’s death will be avenged.

Sadly, that’s not what happens.

Their enemy is strong and organized, having meticulously planned for this since the very beginning –Roman’s kingdom has always had a remarkable military force, but with so little time to prepare compared to their opponents, it’s no wonder it goes as bad as it does.

The battle lasts barely a month, the opposing army quickly piercing their defense and pushing them more and more into retreat. It’s not long before they get completely overwhelmed, crushed and defeated.

Roman never admits defeat, not completely –even as his army is decimated right in front of his eyes, even as his kingdom is set ablaze and he’s forced to kneel in front of those he once called allies.

“You will pay for this,” he seethes even as his face is pressed in the mud, magic boiling helplessly in his blood even as the enchanted restraints he has been put in keep it at bay.

“Oh, little prince,” they smile, drunk in their victory as Roman’s home burns to ashes around them, "we'd like to see you try."

Roman roars in anger, kicking and struggling and biting even as two guards haul him to his feet and start dragging him towards his own castle.

"Lock him in one of the towers,", one of the leaders says, waving them away.

"After all, what's a prince without his castle?"

+++

Our story should end here.

It should end with Roman sitting in the sealed tower, left alone to rot away in the place he once called his home.

It should end with Roman trapped forever in the dark, left with the knowledge that his kingdom is in shambles and his brother's death will never be avenged.

That's the end fates had designed for him, this cruel destiny written in the stars from the very moment of his birth, and yet.

And yet.

An uninvited guest knocks at the door.

+++

If you were to ask Roman what he remembers from that fateful night, he would tell you it was dark and stormy outside -and he would be right.

Let's picture it together -thunder and lightning flashing outside, rain pouring from the sky as a lonely prince stares blankly at the ceiling of his cell, wondering when the end will finally come.

Then, a knock comes through the silence, startling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Roman's first thought goes to the guards tasked with shoving food into the cell -never enough to really satisfy him or leave him at top strength, but just enough to keep him alive and healthy enough to not risk starvation or dehydration.

(He's also pretty sure they periodically slip in some sort of magic suppressant, his powers feeling weak and dormant in his blood, but Roman has figured that would happen the moment they removed the enchanted restraints from his wrists -if that hadn't been the case he would have already blown up the entire tower.)

Then, he frowns and throws a confused look at the tiny excuse of a window hovering several feet over his head -yup, still nighttime, the absolute darkness punctuated by sudden sparks of lightning as the storm outside keeps raging on. And since the sun hasn't risen just yet and he gets food only once when the night comes -which he remembers happening just a few hours prior- Roman's pretty sure that's not a strangely considerate guard, knocking to make their presence known.

So, that begs the question: who is it?

As another knock resounds in the otherwise silent cell, Roman cautiously stands up and quietly shuffles towards the closed door, hoping to somehow gain more clues about whoever is on the other side.

His hand hovers just a few inches from the door, a strange feeling pooling in his stomach as Roman suddenly finds himself hesitating -it's like a pull in his gut, a sense of uneasiness he finds eerily familiar, like a puzzle piece he knows is missing, but can't identify.

The resounding click of a lock coming undone jerks Roman out of his thoughts, sending him staggering backward as the door swings open and a cloaked figure calmly shuffles in.

"Hello, Your Highness," a voice draws from under the cloak, the figure hunching forward in what Roman can only assume is meant to be a bow.

"Who are you?" He asks, standing tall -or as tall as he can, his weakened legs barely holding up his weight as he warily looks at the stranger.

"Oh, I'm nothing but a lonely man seeking cover from the unforgiving weather," the figure hums, "I do hope my presence here is not unwelcome?"

"... No," Roman says after a moment of consideration -there's something about this man, a sensation Roman cannot name but that still makes all of the hair on his body stand up, goosebumps covering his arms as a little voice in the back of his mind warns him to be cautious, "just unexpected. May I ask who do I have the pleasure to talk to?"

"People call me Dee," the man answers "it is a pleasure to meet you, my Prince."

"Oh, please, stop with the formalities," Roman huffs, looking away as he nods to his cell, "as you can see, I am anything but a prince right now."

"And why would that be? You're standing in your castle, and your kingdom and subjects are still out there-"

"Yes, suffering and dying for a war I brought us all in!" Roman exclaims, anger coursing through his veins as he takes one threatening step forward. "And at what cost? We were defeated, utterly annihilated, and now my kingdom is burning under my own eyes and there's nothing I can do to stop it. So no, I am not a prince, because I'm the farthest I can be from deserving that title right now."

The stranger lets out a noncommittal hum, tilting his head to the side as he watches Roman pace angrily around the cell.

Then, he smirks, small, pointed fangs glinting in the dark of the room.

"Who says there is no way for you to change all of this?"

Roman freezes on the spot, his posture tensing as his mind registers the stranger's words.

"Please," he finally answers, shaking his head as a bitter chuckle escapes his lips, "how could that even be possible? I have no army, no friends, no magic. Let's face it-" he turns once again towards Dee, opening his arms as he gestures to his cell- "my fate has been written: to rot alone in this sealed tower -scorned, despised, hated, destined to be forgotten in the sands of time while those who destroyed my home feast and bask in my family's death."

"No destiny is set in stone, Your Highness," Dee counters, smirk never once leaving his lips, "least of all yours. You have a connection, prince Roman, and that connection is the cause of your misfortune."

Roman blinks, confused. "A… connection? To what?"

"Not to what," Dee hums, a hand reaching out from under the cloak as yellow sparks suddenly fill the space just beside him, "to whom."

That's the moment Roman's mind screeches to a halt, the last few minutes playing in his head as the uneasy, cautionary feeling that has been nagging him since the moment the door had opened finally, finally falls into place. Because those sparks are eerily familiar, dancing and falling through the air as a dusty old mirror stands tall at Dee's side, glass glinting in the dark as Roman takes a wary step backward -he's one-hundred percent sure that mirror wasn't there until a few seconds ago, so the only possible explanation is-

"You're a magic user," Roman whispers, eyes wide as his gaze travels back and forth from the mirror to Dee.

"That I am, my prince," the man grins, "did you not realize? You have magic yourself, after all."

"My magic has been severely weakened in order to keep me here -you'll find that it is quite arduous to sense the magic around you when you can just barely feel your own."

"I suppose that makes sense," Dee concedes with a tilt of his head, before gesturing to the mirror, "but let us not dwell on unimportant matters-" he says, beckoning him closer- "do you not want to know the reason of your misfortune?"

Still unsure, Roman warily steps forward until he's standing right in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with confusion evident in his eyes.

Grinning, Dee leans forward and whispers something, the ancient language of the druids of old rolling effortlessly on his tongue as the air around them suddenly feels charged -like something ancient and incredibly, incredibly powerful is slowly awakening in that lonely tower surrounded by the fires of destruction. It's a foreign feeling, so far away from the sense of security Roman is used to when in presence of magic -and he knows, he knows that should render him far warier about Dee and whatever he's trying to show him, there's a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Logan yelling at him how he should step away immediately, this isn't normal, you don't know what is happening-

And yet.

Roman doesn't look away. He keeps standing there, as if trapped in a trance, as the mirror's surface starts glowing, lighting up the room for a few seconds and making Roman close his eyes on instinct when the light just becomes too much to look at.

When he opens his eyes again, Roman can't help the surprised gasp tumbling out of his mouth, gaze transfixed on the mirror's reflection as he tries to properly register what he's seeing.

From the surface of the mirror, a young boy lets out a delighted laugh, his blonde hair reflecting sunlight Roman can't see as pure happiness dances in his eyes -blue like the sky on a sunny day, Roman distantly notes, glinting with joy from behind a pair of big, round glasses.

"Who… is that?" Roman asks, not quite able to conceal the way his voice has almost turned breathy in his stupor.

"In the world through the mirror, everything is set in reverse," Dee reveals, "this boy's fate is deeply intertwined with yours -his happiness is your sadness, his luck is your misery, his kingdom's peace?" The magician looks at Roman, smirking widely as he watches the realization of his words' meaning dawn on him, "your kingdom's destruction."

Roman takes a step back, face pale as realization gives the place to horror. "That can't be true."

"And yet, it is," Dee says, shrugging, "fate chose to give him a happy, fulfilling life and carelessly throw you aside. Such a pity, isn't it?"

"That's-" Roman's breath is quick now, heart hammering in his chest doubt and fear swirl and clash in his mind- "that's not fair!"

"It isn't, isn't it?" Dee agrees, "you could have been great, given the chance to prove your worth. And yet, fate preferred that boy over you -it took away your brother, your kingdom, your happiness, just to give that fortunate boy a destiny that should've been yours. What a shame, really."

Roman clenches his fists, taking in a few deep breaths -he wants to scream and cry and curse at the universe, Dee's words echoing in his head over and over as rage rushes through his veins. But he can't let himself go just yet, not as long as the mysterious magician is standing in front of him and watching his every move.

"Why are you telling me all this?" He asks instead, voice surprisingly steady as a storm rages inside him -he can distantly feel his magic react to his emotions, thrumming deep inside him as it pushes and slams against whatever is keeping his powers locked away.

"As I said, no destiny is set in stone," Dee answers with a grin, "that happiness was yours, and it is only right that I help you get it back, is it not?"

Roman frowns, keeping his expression schooled even as he can feel a spark of hope make its way into his chest. "And how would you do that?"

"Just say the word, my prince, and everything your heart yearns for will be finally yours."

Deafening silence falls in the dark cell, the air charged with a million possibilities as Roman finds himself with his heart's greatest desire standing right in front of him.

He looks at the boy's blue eyes, his smile shining like a thousand suns, and feels something inside himself harden into stone, nodding his head towards Dee.

The magician lets out a boisterous laugh, yellow sparks dancing all around him as the mirror's reflection darkened and disappeared.

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness!" He exclaims, magic whooshing around Roman as his own seems to react to it -he can almost feel the familiar tingling sensation traveling up to his fingertips, warmth flowing through his soul as yellow magic fills his vision.

"The scales of destiny have been replaced!" Dee announces as Roman feels his consciousness start to fade.

"So forget everything, my prince-" a fanged grin, green scales shining in the light as Dee's cloak falls away- "and rejoice."

A single, yellow eye meets Roman's gaze.

Then, darkness falls.

#sanders sides #royality #brotherly logince #romans anders #roman angst #deceit sanders #angst #implied character death #captivity #magic #magic mirror au #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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thenightling · 4 years

Text

Summary of The Dreaming (issues 1 through 18)

We begin with a teaser in Dark Nights: Metal (November 2017). After the dust has settled and The Library of The Dreaming has been restored Lucien notices a book missing and his lord Dream of The Endless (Daniel Hall).

The following happens in The Sandman Universe 1 and The Dreaming issues 1 through 18.

The Dreaming slowly deteriorates around their ears. The Dream entities (the subjects of The Dreaming) cannot find Dream of The Endless (The Sandman). Matthew The Raven tries to find him but Daniel cuts off their psychic connection to avoid being found by his subjects.

Dora, another entity, commonly called a Monsteress or Monstress (Someone should tell him monster is unisex) resides in The Dreaming. She has a bit of a chip on her shoulder because Morpheus (Dream of The Endless) assured her that she was safe in his domain and she didn’t need to be afraid anymore. She feels he lied to her. It wasn’t long after his assurances that he “was killed” by The kindly ones and a new aspect (incarnation) of Dream of The Endless took the throne, Daniel.

Strange beings called Blanks or (as a pseudo-racial slur) “Soggies” are coming through a crack that has formed in The Dreaming. Some dream entities, including Mervyn Pumpkinhead (the grounds keeper of The Dreaming) are suspicious of these refugees coming through. (Incoming ham-handed political message).

Lucien decides to “conserve” energy in The Dreaming by uncreating dream entities he deems useless. He uses the helm of dream (because apparently that’s how this works now...) to uncreate Mervyn’s friends and crew men right on the steps of the castle. Needless to say Merv was devastated and Lucien says “I did warn you.” before differentiating Uncreating and killing and acting as if being ucnreated is one of the finest things that could happen. (Take this as a bad sign. I sure did.)

Poor Lucien, The librarian’s mind was deteriorating, like someone with dementia.

Dora befriends one of the blanks and names him Ziggy after Ziggy Stardust (The David Bowie persona). Ziggy starts to develop his own autonomous personality and Dora realizes the blanks are made of dream-stuff and are like children just being born.

Disgruntled about the “uncreation” of his friends and feeling contempt toward The Blanks that took their job, Mervyn unleashes Judge Gallows. Judge Gallows is a nightmare that Morpheus apparently created to prey on humanity’s fear of “The Other.” Judge Gallows caused things like The Civil War and The Holocaust. (???????????? NOT OKAY!)

Judge Gallows discovers Lucien’s mental deterioration and uses it against him to take control over The Dreaming. He starts having Merv pen up The Blanks and they even attempt lynching poor Ziggy.

Dora and Lucien flee to the realm of Destruction where Dora is able to wield the sword of Destruction (Which really should NOT be there but okay...) This part is mostly filler, folks, but I’m writing it out anyway.

Abel is talked into killing Cain, inverting their usual story routine. (Someone completely ignored the rule about Cain’s mark here...). Cain doesn’t revive though.

There’s a brief run-in with Nuala the faery (as if someone forgot to put her into the story since she is in the concept art. Whoops). And it’s implied she’s hidden some important item for Daniel after misleading Titania about a dreamstone.

Nuala had been “Given” as a gift to Morpheus during the events of the original Sandman. Morpheus, distrusting of faeries, and not liking slavery, was reluctant to accept, but knew if he refused it would mean war with the faery court. He had allowed her to stay and ultimately paid her with a boon. Nuala had an unrequited crush on Morpheus.

A strange A.I called Wan comes in and usurps Judge Gallows. Bye, Judge Gallows, no one cares. However we get early hints that Wan is crazy or has an alternate personality that wants to destroy The Dreaming.

Daniel makes a brief apologetic appearance to Lucien, who appears to be dying. (This gets drawn out. He’ll be “on the brink of death” for several issues...)

Enter Rose Walker! Finally we get a little coherence in the plot. Rose hasn’t aged a day since she was saved from being The Dream Vortex by her grandmother, Unity. The Dream Vortex is a person whose mind is unusually connected to The Dreaming and whose very existence can cause their waking world to crash into The Dreaming, killing everyone on her planet. Morpheus had not wanted to have to kill her but thankfully Rose’s grandmother had found another means for her to survive, by taking the essence of what makes her The Vortex into herself.

Rose is actually the granddaughter of Desire of The Endless. Unity had been raped by Desire in a scheme to create a vortex because Desire wanted to put Morpheus in a situation where he would have to spill family blood. If an Endless kills a member of their own family The Kindly Ones may hunt them.

Ultimately this happened with Morpheus but not because of Desire impregnating Rose’s grandmother, but because Morpheus put his own son, Orpheus, out of his misery. Lyta Hall had tried to invoke the kindly ones for the death of Daniel. The kindly Ones tried to tell her that Morpheus did not kill Daniel, nor was he blood of The Endless (Yet...) but they informed her that Morpheus did kill his own son, (Orpheus) and that was reason enough for them.

Ironically this quest for revenge IS what made Lyta lose Daniel forever. It ended with Daniel becoming the new aspect of Dream.

Now in present day Rose has a daughter, Ivy. Ivy is in her mid-twenties and works as a tattoo artist. Rose had been pregnant by the time Daniel became Dream. And though it’s technically incest with his own great-niece Daniel fell in love with this daughter, Ivy. Daniel, posing as a human, had a strange, romantic relationship with Ivy.

One scene that rubbed me the wrong way in this is when some men at a bachelor party catcalled Ivy it was implied that Daniel f--king murdered them by making them drown themselves. (Morpheus hated the idea of killing and has a personal crisis every time he might have to do it. Daniel does it over catcalling...) Rose is given visions by Desire of The Endless explaining what happens at this point. Some of this isn’t explained until ten issues later but I’ll streamline this right here for you.

Many years earlier a man named Hyperion Keeter (very much modeled after Steve Jobs) was haunted by a Night Hag. It turns out this Night Hag was Dora. He defeated the creature by telling her she was not real. Dora, having an existential crisis, flees back to The Dreaming. Here Morpheus found her and helped her. To stabilize her fragile condition he hid something precious inside her. His own ruby dreamstone, made from a piece of his very soul). It would exist inside her until the day she was strong enough to believe in herself, sustain herself, and rise above self-doubt. Many creatures of dream (if not all) need to be believed in to sustain themselves or they weaken and fade.

Hyperion becomes obsessed with dreams. He believes that dreams are the source of all the world’s superstition, fear, and religion and as such the source of all human cruelty, bigotry, and irrationality- things like witch hunts, religious wars, persecution of the LGBT community over “religious reasons.” He thinks if he takes control over the world’s dreams he can save it.

Decades pass. He gets occultists and corporate followers who agree with his scheme but probably for less noble reasons (more world domination than anything else). Hyperion’s followers learn that Daniel is courting Ivy. They get a hold of a lock of Ivy’s hair and use it to control her. While under this magical enthralment Ivy is used to put a geas tattoo on Daniel’s back. The tattoo is a composite of a solomonic figure and a dreamcatcher, things Daniel believes hold power and so they do.

Daniel thinks this is a strange accident caused by the fact that Ivy had wanted to tattoo him and she had cried and cried when he refused to allow it before. (No means no, bitch. The character IVy, before being under the enthralment, threw a hissy fit because she didn’t respect his autonomy when Daniel didn’t want a tattoo. And we were supposed to sympathize with her trying to force body modification!)

Unable to explain what’s wrong, because of the geas, Daniel accepts a cup of tea from Ivy, while they sit on a beach, but Rose has a vision from Desire, warning her that the tea is magically poisoned. She tries to stop Daniel from drinking it but it’s too late. He’s badly weakened.

At first Daniel believes Ivy deliberately betrayed him and he has a major temper tantrum resulting in mortals around them mutilating themselves. (Seriously, can we have Morpheus back now?!???)

Rose slapped sense into Daniel (he deserved it) and Daniel goes to figure out what’s going on. At Fawny Rig (the mansion where Morpheus had been held prisoner a century earlier) Daniel lets out his rage on the occultists there and finds out how they controlled Ivy. The house is now owned by Hyperion’s company. Daniel goes to make amends with Ivy but it’s too late. Ivy has ODed on prescription drugs. She’s alive but brain dead. Daniel declares that she’s only asleep and flees with her.

Daniel gives Hyperion a dream warning him of what would really happen if he’s successful in the destruction of myth, fantasy, and wonder. Horrified by what he sees, Hyperion tries to undo what he has done but his own followers turn on him. He’s physically fragile (dying of cancer), and eventually is put on a life support system. Most of the world already thought he was dead anyway.

Rose tells the story to semi-unconscious Lucien. Lucien ends up back in The Dreaming where he finds his library has been replaced with a digitized archive (easier to destroy). Wan (the A.I.) thinks this digital library with no books is more convenient with Lucien’s fading memory and Wan actually believes they are doing good. Wan doesn’t know that part of them is like a virus slowly eating away at The Dreaming.

Abel knows the truth. Abel captures Matthew and removes his own eyes, inserting them into Matthew’s eye sockets. (Yup, human-like eyes hanging out of a bird. This lasted three issues too long...) Abel can grow back his eyes. He does this so Matthew can see the truth and to sever his connection with Wan (who is now ruler of The Dreaming). Because psychic links now work by optic nerves, I suppose. I know it’s “dream logic” but no, not really. The blind can’t have a psychic connection?!? “My Lord, why can’t I feel you?” the last words of the griffon when he was killed by The Kindly Ones. He wasn’t feeling him with his eyes!

Lucien comes to Abel, begging for death. Mervyn and the other dream entities show pity on Lucien and bury him, in the hope that he’ll be reabsorbed by The Dreaming. Lucien has tea with Death.

Dora eventually tracks down the source of what’s destroying The Dreaming right into Hyperion’s bedroom. Here she finds Cain “living” inside a computer security system. Hyperion’s men had found Cain’s essence and uploaded him into this machine, somehow. Cain informs Dora of the part of the story she didn’t know. And he tricks her into shutting down Hyperion’s life support system. Poor Hyperion had wanted to set things right, knowing what he did was wrong.

While Hyperion is in his death dream, Abel and Matthew are able to escape into The waking World.

Rose Walker was on a bus carrying her mother’s corpse back home. Her literally brain-dead daughter had been abducted by Daniel and her own mother just passed away from cancer, so Rose is numb and confused while the world is going to Hell because humans are losing their minds without their dreams.

Rose has another vision of Desire. There have been some subtle hints that this might not be Desire at all. For starters we never see the whole face. The eyes are always hidden. Second, this Desire always comes to her in dreams. And there are not-so-subtle nods to The Sandman: Overture where Desire had disguised themself as Dream in cat form and Morpheus had mistaken this cat as another aspect of Dream of The Endless. If Desire can be mistaken as Dream, Dream can be mistaken as Desire. There’s a rising chance this “Desire” is actually Morpheus. They can’t be Daniel. One of the visions came while Daniel was about to drink poisoned tea.

“Desire” coaxes Rose to take the initiative and use her own Desire-based powers. She steals the greyhound bus she was riding to get to Hyperion’s manor.

Abel and Matthew had gotten through to The Waking World by Hyperion’s death dream but some newly reprogrammed blanks, serving Wan, follow them. Dora recognizes one of these blanks as Ziggy, her friend. He still has the lightning bolt mark on his face. They are there to unmake dream entities and Ziggy almost successfully destroys Dora before coming to his senses and remembering who she is to him.

Abel’s eyes in Matthew’s head don’t work anymore in the waking world “because Dream Logic.” So Abel gives Matthew back his raven eyes. (Thank God!)

Abel confronts Cain and reminds him of how they need each other. Being the keeper of secrets Abel successfully hacks into the computer system holding Cain and allows him to escape and kill Abel (who always gets better), thus setting their story right. They both go home.

Almost destroyed, Dora lays dying. Rose comes in and tells Dora she must believe in herself and allows Dora to feed on her fear. It’s surprisingly sensual and intimate.

During the feeding it’s revealed that Morpheus hid his ruby dreamstone in Dora. Dora is fully healed and comes to her senses holding the ruby dreamstone. Poor Rose is The Dream Vortex again.

Dora opens the way back to The Dreaming. She’s followed by Matthew and the blanks, including Ziggy. Here a small army of dream entities have gathered with Lucien as righteous preacher who has had an encounter with Death and spoke with “HIM” and he knows what they must do now. He seems a bit crazed and the figures behind him look an awful lot like the versions of dream from The Sandman Overture.

And that’s where we currently are. No, I did not explain any events from The House of Whispers, Lucifer, Books of magic, or John Constantine: Hellblazer. That would have made this much longer. And that’s where we are now. I think I remembered everything.

@vagaryhexxx This is for you.

#The Dreaming #Neil Gaiman's The Sandman Universe

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keelywolfe · 5 years

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FIC: Severed Bonds

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex...?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity

Note: In the Star Wars Universe, Order 66 was a direct command for the Clone Troopers to kill their Jedi leaders. In the movies, this happened in the Revenge of the Sith, and it nearly wiped out all the Jedi in existence.

This story is set directly after that. So...yeah, it gets a little dark.

Ah, but Star Wars was one of my very first fandoms and imagining Rus as a Sith Lord and Edge as a Jedi Knight was too much to resist. Particularly when you have Cheapbourbon's gorgeous art to thank for planting the idea in my head.

Check it out here!

I've taken liberties with both the Star Wars and the Undertale universes, of course. Played fast and loose with canon. It's more fun that way. As an extra warning, this isn't my normal fluffiness and I can't exactly call it a happy ending. None of the character deaths references are either of our boys.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Consciousness came slowly, painfully so. Edge barely opened his sockets, enough to glance around the room he was in.

It was an unfamiliar medical bay and there was no one in sight. He sat up, stifling a groan at the ache in his skull. A medical droid powered up and left its charging station to come to him, metal hands urging him to lay back.

Its mechanical voice said with bland urgency, “Sir, you should lay down.”

He pushed the droid roughly aside and staggered to his feet. It moved back, out of his way, watching in silence, but if it was alerting a captor, it was too late to stop it.

All his clothing was clean and folded on a tray at the end of the bed. By time he pulled on his outer robe, Edge had found his balance, suppressing his headache with practiced ease, and no one came to investigate his waking.

His lightsaber was also on the tray and Edge took it automatically, clipping it to his belt.

Memory of what happened was fragmented; the suppressed pain did not eliminate the injury. His team traveling to seek out the Sith, that much he recalled, and there had been…an attack? An ambush? He needed answers before he chose his path.

He sank to his knees with the fluid grace despite his injuries, closing his sockets and reaching out with the Force. What he felt made him gasp, an unexpectedly wrenching cry of pain from within the universe itself and he hastily blocked it, kept his touch light, close. Memory came, as shocking as the pain flowing through the Force, and Edge opened his sockets.

There was only one other living presence on this ship and it was one he knew, all too well.

The ship was small and the walk to the cockpit was a short one. The other was sitting in the pilot’s seat, but the star field told Edge they were in hyperspace. His hands on the controls meant nothing. Familiar hands, long fingers of bone.

It was the first time in years he'd seen Rus anywhere except from the other side of a battlefield.

The lightsaber at his side was not a design that Edge knew, but he knew the color of its crystal. Red, as blazing crimson red as his own eye lights, though the meaning behind it was not one of a chance of birth. It was a choice.

Once his lightsaber had been green, complimenting the blue of Edge’s. They’d made them together, the one Edge still possessed and the one that Rus abandoned all those years ago.

Rus did not reach for his lightsaber, did not so much as look at him, even when he spoke.

"Where are the others?" Edge marveled at his own calm. He was a Jedi Knight and yet even he had his limits. The memory of the troopers who were supposed to be their allies turning on them, their blasters firing, of his fellow Knights falling beneath that deadly rain was fresh in his mind.

"they're gone," Rus said curtly. “all of them.” His voice was unchanged, even after all this time. Except for the underlying note of gentle humor that it had always held. His endless laughter was gone.

As gone as the other Jedi. "That's not possible."

But the Force told him otherwise; it cried to him, a universe worth of mourning and there was nothing but gaping emptiness at the other end of every bond. His team, Jedi he'd known and trusted for years were gone. Friends, teachers, students. Every mental path led to ragged emptiness. Where once the collective consciousness of the Jedi was a galaxy, now there was only the rare twinkle of a dying star.

It was no wonder he was so calm, he was probably going into shock

It was only his years of training that allowed him to keep his control. "You did this. This is because of you. You turned against us, turned to the Dark side."

Rus did not deny it but even as he said it, Edge could feel that it wasn't entirely true. He’d watched in quiet despair the depths that Rus sank to since his turning, watched as he killed when he should have been fighting at their side and yet. Rus had betrayed them, true, but this genocide was beyond even what he’d shown himself capable of.

They’d begun in the same crèche, he and Rus. Trained together as children, worked together as Padawans. They were knighted together, well on their way to being permanently teamed. Until with one desperate, reckless kiss, Rus destroyed it all.

On a mission with only the two of them, negotiations failed and turned violent. They’d only barely survived and ended up in the hold of a rickety transport they’d managed to barter passage on, huddled together against the cold. They were exhausted beyond reckoning and too tired to sleep. Edge trying to meditate, to reconcile what they’d gone through coming so close to dying, when there was a whisper in that darkness, his name.

“edge—“

Rus’s mouth had been hot, desperate against his own, pleading wordlessly, and Edge pushed him away.

He could still remember the look on Rus’s face, the raw emotion that no true Jedi would show.

It all collapsed so quickly after that, like a child’s balancing game destroyed by an ill wind.

And now they were here and the emptiness in his mind was as raw, as anguished, as Rus had been that day.

"Where are you taking me?" Edge asked, finally.

"i don't know. far away." Rus made a ragged sound, a mockery of his past laughter. "my Master has been calling to me, demanding my return. we need to get as far away as we can."

It would never be far enough. Through the Force all things were possible. Even darkness.

Edge sank into the co-pilot seat, staring at the starfield speeding outside. "You could have let me die."

Again there was that laughter and Rus shook his head. "i couldn't. i never could. not you, never you. it was always you, always, you were my downfall to begin with!" His anger trailed away into a low, broken chuckle, even now finding humor. “i gave up everything for you.”

"You gave up everything for yourself," Edge told him coolly. That was the truth of it, that was the Master’s teachings. The Jedi used their power for the benefit of all. To want for yourself was the path of the Sith and the proof of it was sitting before him. "I am not a possession for you to own."

"i didn't want to own you, i wanted--" Rus let out a low, shuddery breath. "it doesn't matter anymore. probably never did.”

"You left my lightsaber."

His laughter was bordering on hysteria now and Edge wondered if Rus was completely sane. Wondered the same thing about himself, if his preternatural calm was closer to a loss of self.

"i did,” Rus giggled, rocking in his seat. “i did. i wasn't entirely sure we'd be able to escape, and i didn't want to leave you helpless if we were boarded. me, they would probably spare, my master prefers to mete out his punishments himself, but you? you would only be another dead Jedi."

His control was slipping, cracking, Edge noted distantly, wondering again at his own sanity. "They are truly gone, all of them."

"most of them, yes. i expect a few have managed to escape. like you."

"Even the younglings, the little ones."

"yes." Rus swallowed hard, that maddening humor slipping away. “i didn't know. i wouldn't have--when the order came..." He shuddered with a thin rattle of bones, muffled beneath his dark robes. “this wasn’t the war i was meant to be fighting. the jedi are wrong, they expect us to cage our emotions and hide from the power that's possible, they are...were…"

"Rus--"

"they killed them all," Rus whispered. He never looked away from the hyperspace surrounding them, but his hands fell away from the controls, "i have blood on my hands, on my soul, i've never pretended otherwise, this was a war, but they...they shot them in the back. honor is a useless construct for those who choose death, but they killed children, they…that…"

“It was a war, this was what you wanted,” Edge said. The numbness in his soul was spreading, leaving him as empty as the Force. “And now you’re running away from it.”

“not you,” Rus said, softly, and he finally looked at Edge. There was nothing to mark his fall, nothing that named him Sith, save for the burning eye lights in his sockets. “that was too high a price.”

“Higher than your own soul?”

“too high a price,” Rus repeated. He grinned and it was savage.

If Edge was emptiness, then Rus was an overfilled cup and his hatred spilled out to sear them all.

His lightsaber was heavy at his hip. He could kill Rus right now, finally end this; the years of searching, of watching others being cut down beneath the glow of crimson. Edge didn't reach for it and wondered distantly if Rus had known he wouldn't or if he didn't care. “Asgore will find you.”

That smile turned bitter, a dead remnant of his former self. “he will, eventually, and my master will kill me. but then, it’s hardly the first time i’ve given up everything for you.”

Edge stood, striding out of the cockpit and away from what was left of his friend. And the Jedi.

~~*~~

In the weeks that passed, Rus mostly stayed away from him. It was a small ship, some interaction was unavoidable, but passing by each other in the common areas was more like walking past a ghost, a wraith who hardly looked at him.

Those fleeting glances told him that Rus was exhausted, darkened shadows sinking in beneath his sockets. The courses he plotted seemed nonsensical, likely trying to avoid Imperial forces.

Edge paid it little mind. He spent his nights sleeping and his days meditating. Reaching out for others through the static of emptiness, feeling through the Force for survivors.

But no one came.

There was nothing but the pulse of the one already on the ship. Rus’s Force signature was nothing like his former exuberance, all his gentle light darkened with anger, with hate.

It still felt like him. Edge pushed it to the side, and reached out further, searching for others that never reached back.

~~*~~

Another week passed and they landed on Soonia to refuel. An outskirts planet, the sort where power was law and the Empire had no control. It was little more than a trading post, but there was an outdoor market, shouts from those hawking their wares ringing through the growing heat of the morning.

Edge walked through it, his robes concealed beneath a dark cloak. Small stalls lined the walkways, with questionable meats turning on spits as they displayed a colorful array of the local fruits, fish, stolen wares, and everything else beneath the double suns.

He had no credits, not a thing to barter with. He was, however, not without skill and it only took a few nudges, a couple waves of his hand to net some fresh supplies, better than the gruel that has been sustaining them.

The afternoon was getting unpleasantly warm by the time he carried them back to the ship and he was preparing an evening meal when Rus returned. Edge had no idea what Rus traded for fuel, but he was limping and there was a ghost of bruise on his cheek bone that made his soul clench.

He stopped when he saw Edge.

“you came back,” Rus said, blankly.

For the first time, it occurred to Edge that he could have left. Bartered for passage on one of the other ships and Rus expected him to do it. They would be hunting him, true, as they were hunting all Jedi, but he would be infinitely safer away from Rus, who was marked as a traitor to be executed by the Emperor himself.

Distantly, he found himself saying, “Where else do I have to go?”

Edge turned his attention back to the fresh pala fruit he was slicing, sticky juice sluicing over his fingers. It would be delicious when it was warmed.

Rus stood for a long moment, watching. Then he limped slowly to one of the chairs and sat, waiting in silence until Edge set a plate in front of him.

They still rarely spoke but from that day forward, they took their meals together.

~~*~~

At the hour for his nightly meditations, Edge couldn’t focus.

Every day, morning and night, he searched for others, other Jedi who escaped, and every time he was greeted by nothingness. There was no one out there, the tendrils of the Force that tethered him his entire life were severed, still raw and bleeding even with the passing time.

They were gone, all of them. He knew it, had known it, but tonight was when belief sank in its teeth. They were gone and he was completely, utterly alone.

The taste of salt broke his concentration and Edge opened his sockets, wiping his tears away roughly with his sleeve. The Jedi were gone, dead, destroyed. Everyone he knew was dust.

All but one.

Edge rose slowly, walked out the door of his tiny sleeping quarters. The next room was barely two steps away and it was unlocked. He opened it, stepping inside.

On the narrow bed Rus stirred, his skull lifting from the pillows as he asked, “edge? what are you doing?”

There was only sleepiness in his voice, no hint of fear or his endless anger. Almost, Edge could pretend this was another time, another place.

Rus said nothing as Edge stripped off his robes and climbed into the bed, finding bones that matched the bareness of his own.

Edge had been with others. Sexual intercourse was not strictly forbidden, and he’d found momentary pleasures before, both between the thighs of another and others between his.

This was not sex; this was punishing Rus’s body and his own. Not with pain, no, the hurts they bore weren’t of the flesh, but of the soul.

It was an echo of that first kiss so long ago in a clammy, rusted hold; this was that moment, frozen in time, twisted and darkened and waiting for him.

He swept his hands over Rus, touching the sleek bones he’d denied himself before. There were new scars, stories gouged into him that Edge did not want to learn. Pain that he couldn’t bear to share, not on top of what he already carried.

The need within him burned and he pushed Rus’s knees apart almost desperately, settling between his femurs as he sought the only connection he could.

Rus cried out as he slid into him and the sound of it was the most honest thing they’d shared since that single, damning kiss.

Rolling his hips, Edge fucked him slowly, watching Rus coming apart beneath him. Fingers clawed at his rib cage, clutching him, holding him desperately and Edge allowed it. Giving him the body he’d denied Rus before.

He took his own back, scraping his teeth against the line of Rus’s jaw, tasting his mouth again and again, sharing his own desperation, his own raw need.

The brink came too fast, inexorably, and he could feel Rus reaching for him. Not with his hands, those clung to him, refused to release their hold. It was a shaky, tentative mental touch through the Force, reaching out to him.

Edge didn’t hesitate, opening himself up to the first Force contact he’d felt in weeks. The torn bond between them that had broken when Rus abandoned the Order was waiting for him. It was as damaged as the others that lay within Edge but when he reached for this one, it connected.

Despite everything, despite all the anger, the hate, Rus splayed open his soul to him and Edge did not cringe from the poison of his mental touch. His soul was filled with the Dark Side, layers of darkness, of rage and hate drenched in blood, and beneath it all, flaking away like layers of paint, was the Rus he knew, that he had always known and wasn’t allowed to love.

So broken, so hurt, so angry, that gentle soul buried in pain. But there.

In the shimmer of merging thought, he saw memory that wasn’t his own. The moment Edge’s team found him and before they could attack came Rus’s realization of what was truly happening. The clone troopers raising their weapon and—Rus caught the one aiming at Edge’s back with a brutal use of Force, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into a wall. His shot went wild, left Edge with only a graze on the side of his skull rather than a fatal injury. The other Jedi fell beneath the onslaught, dead and dying, while Rus’s lightsaber flashed, crimson slashing through the troopers until their screams faded.

Rus, picking him up, carrying him to the ship. Rus, caring for his injury. Rus, here and now, writhing beneath him.

When he came, his seed fell over Edge’s hand, dripping onto his rib cage, and only then did Edge close his sockets, losing himself in the slick heat, in this moment, in this life that was now his, theirs, until his own pleasure fell over him, raw and real, burning within him, flaring in his own soul.

Within the Force they reclaimed their bond and in that embrace, Edge learned what it was like to fall.

-finis-

Read Chapter 2

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #star wars au #forgive me

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silasmadams · 4 years

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My Problem with a “Darker Shade of Magic” by V.E. Schwab

So I’ve been meaning to talk about V. E. Schwab’s A Darker Shade of Magic. I know it’s got plenty of love behind it and its got its fair share of fans but I can’t for the life of me love this book and yes I mean only the first book because that’s as far as I read in the series. I have a similar relationship to this as I do Children of Blood by Tomi Adeyemi in that I completely understand why people like it, I just don’t.

I’m also going to give a trigger warning that I will be talking about sexual assault, violence, and general gore so if that makes you uncomfortable give this a skip. I’ll give a trigger warning again when I’m about to speak in-depth on the previously mentioned subjects. I will also warn you when I’m about to head into spoiler territory, though I won’t be going into particularly big spoilers.

Summary

For those of you that don’t know, A darker shade of Magic is the first book in the Darker Shade of Magic trilogy by V. E. Schwab. It’s about three separate Londons, Red, White, and Grey. Red is the London with lots of magic, it’s the pretty and bougie London. White is a cesspit of violence with very little magic forcing its inhabitants to cling onto any magic they can for dear life. Their leaders are cruel and it's not uncommon for them to be usurped. Generally to get ahead in White London you need to be vile. And Grey London is our world's London roughly around the 1800s, since King George III is alive but very old and dying. So the conflict is about Black London, the fourth London that was cut off from the others because their magic consumed the people and the land. Kell an antari, a super magical person, is able to travel through the three londons and he ends up getting caught up in some big conspiracies and power grabs. Interesting premise right? I agree but the execution ehhh. Ok, let’s start first with the pros of the book.

Style

Her style isn’t anything too extravagant. But that doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It’s nowhere near bad. She’s got quite a few descriptions that really draw you in. Her opening lines are damn near perfect. “Kell wore a very peculiar coat, It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible” [pg 11]. It doesn’t reveal much but it sort of tosses this thread out there for you to follow into the larger narrative. It’s got almost a rhyming quality to it, a rhythm that you can feel yourself saying as you recite the lines aloud. It gives you just enough to keep you invested but not enough to reveal anything of importance. All of the writing in this book has a similar draw to it, it’s simple and intricate all at once and it’s very precise in what it’s trying to say. When Schwab describes something in the narrative, you can imagine it very clearly. Just listen to how she describes the marketplace. "The subtle scent of flowers was lot beneath the aroma of cooking meat and freshly cut fruit, heavy spices and mulled wine. A man in dark robes offered candied plums beside a woman selling scrying stones. A vendor poured steaming tea into short glass goblets across from another vibrant stall displaying masks and a third offering tiny vials of water drawn from the Isle, the contents still glowing faintly with its light..." [pg 45 and 46]. Overall Schwab knows her craft and it’s clear that she’s confident in her writing because she should be, she’s got the technical and stylistic aspect down to a tee.

Setting

The setting is amazing, but and there is a big but which includes minor spoilers so run away now if you want to read this book. I will say that it’s a good book, it’s just not a good book to me. If you’re into other world fantasies and cross-dimensional travel you’ll probably like this. I’m into that too but the problem is that this book has a lot of missed potential for me. So if the previously mentioned description sounds interesting or if the summary I gave sounds interesting to you, leave, go read the book and come back. If it doesn’t sound interesting or you don’t care about spoilers then I guess stick around if you want.

So the premise is amazing. These three different Londons that all exist in different dimensions that only a select few, two people to be exact, can travel to are vastly different from one another. Their landscapes, their people, their overall geography, it’s all completely different, the only overlapping aspects that they all have are their names and the two travelers that can move about their kingdoms, those two being Kell, one of our main characters and Holland, one of our main antagonists.

I think Red London is overall well done, Schwab captures it perfectly. A land of flowers and joy with obvious problems and tensions but out of the three London’s is clearly portrayed as the best. So I’ve got no qualms with that.

What I found upsetting though was White London and Grey London. For White London, it was this hellscape of a city that had so much room to be this horrible torturous place and Schwab touches on it, she grazes the surface of it ever so slightly but she never manages to hit the mark completely. When you tell me White London is a grimy and gross place filled with power-hungry bastards and bitches what’s to stop me from going “well isn’t that just normal London aka Grey London but with magic?” I needed more of White London, I needed more of that seedy underbelly to better contrast with Grey London. With Grey London, we see the horrors of the land through the character of Lila Bard who has a difficult life, who needs to survive on her own in this terrible place, no offense London. I think the best way to have fixed this was to have more focus on Holland, the character that was from White London. If we were to have three POVs from Holland, Kell, and Lila, instead of just Lila and Kell, this problem could be solved. It would convolute the story because of the twist about Holland and his involvement in trying to help the twin rulers of White London take over Red London but I feel like that’s an ok thing to lose in order to gain a better understanding of White London and have a more fleshed out narrative of all three kingdoms.

Characters

I hate these characters. Ok, that’s kind of a strong word, I don’t hate them. I don’t hate all of them at least. And I know plenty of people love and adore these characters, I’ve seen the artwork and the time and effort people put into these characters and it’s all amazing but I just do not get the hype. I didn’t like them.

See, my thing is that I hate characters that don’t reach, what I see as their true potential. Which is just a roundabout way of saying that I hate characters that are boring. I mean I can enjoy a badly written character as much as the next person but the thing is that a boring character is not enjoyable for anyone, especially when you see threads of a character and know that they can be something more. Now I haven’t read either of the other two books so maybe the characters are different there, I don’t know. All I know is that I either found the characters to be boring, cliche, or just annoying.

The first character to make this most egregious mistake on the part of being boring, would be none other than Kell. So Kell is the adopted Prince, the older brother of Rhy. He was taken away from his family at a young age and brought up in the palace because he was an Antari, which again is a super magical person that can travel through the different Londons and is an expert in various other types of magic, natural or otherwise. So Kell loves his brother and he has issues with his adoptive parents because he feels that they see him only as a tool. Now, this is good, this has potential. The problem here is that we never see moments of the King and Queen treating Kell badly and they don’t even need to necessarily treat him badly they just need to drop hints of how they clearly favor Rhy. And I didn’t see those hints. As far as I could tell, both boys were treated relatively equal, Kell had a lot more work on his plate but that was because he’s an Antari, he’s the only Antari. To really drive home that feeling of isolation and of Rhy being his only real family among the royals there needs to be more memories of their childhood where the King and Queen picked Rhy over Kell and it was because of them seeing Rhy as their real son and Kell as more of a soldier. There is also the issue of Lila just dismissing these feelings that Kell has about his family not loving him but we’ll get to that in a bit. All that aside, Kell just isn’t interesting. You could replace him with a cardboard cutout and I wouldn’t know the difference. He’s just not an engaging character, he’s got the threads of an engaging character but he himself is not one. Whenever I was back to his POV I didn’t know whether to groan out of boredom or to just be glad we weren’t in Lila’s head. I decided to go with the former because Lila is fun to hate, Kell is bread, he’s not even toast, he’s bread, soggy bread. Ok, that’s enough.

Now Lila, Oh Lila. How I despise thee. I get what Schwab was going for with this character. She was the badass cross-dressing thief lady that could cut you down. Lila is an orphan that had to fend for herself after her father basically tried to sell her off. She’s got a good introduction and it bleeds into some good first few chapters. Now warning I’m about to talk about sexual assault and just general violence so skip to the next paragraph if you don't want to read that. In one of the earlier chapters, Lila comes home, her home being a docked ship that she stays at. The ship is owned by an older man who she basically pays rent to. When she gets back, the guy, Powell, asks for his cut. He’s drunk out of his mind which is also not unusual for this character. When she says she doesn’t have anything to give him today, he responds by saying he can take something else from her, clearly implying sexual favors. So she straight up fucking murders Powell "Dead. Dead... and making a mess... She crouched, wiped her blade on Powell's shirt, and recovered the silver from his pocket. And then she stepped over his body, retrieved the revolver from its drawer, and got dressed" [pg 69]. And then to cover her tracks, she sets his boat on fire and dips. "Lila stood on the dock and watched the Sea King burn. She stared up at it, face warmed by the fire that danced on her chin and cheeks the way the lamp light had before the constable.'It's a shame,’ she thought. She'd rather liked the rotting ship. But it wasn't hers. No, hers would be much better" [pg 70]. Come on, tell me that’s not a great anti-hero introduction? Because it is.

That being said, the more time I, as a reader spent with Lila, the more I realized I hate her. I mean at least I felt something towards her, unlike Kell. So the first problem with Lila is that she is the epitome of “I’m not like other girls” Every chance she gets to put down anything girly or to put down other women she takes. Or, she just jumps at the chance of being called not like other girls. Which Kell often obliges in. And, this would be ok if it was criticized within the story, if it was properly examined why she feels this way, because there could be a lot of reasons, one of which could be that she realized behaving in a more aggressive or traditionally masculine way allowed her to have autonomy and allowed people to not talk down to her but to be afraid of her. There are a lot of ways in which this could go but it didn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with liking more traditionally masculine things, the problem is the way in which Lila clearly needs to put other women down in order to feel special about herself. I also mentioned earlier about my issue with how Lila undermines Kell’s feelings of his adoptive parents never really loving him and seeing him only as a tool. Again, this could have been played up a little more and Kell could have properly called her out instead of just being the meek bread he is and letting her essentially tell him that his emotional struggle doesn’t matter cause he’s rich. I get where Lila is coming from in this scenario and I do like that she treats him like that in terms of his emotions because it’s very telling of her own upbringing. The problem is that she very clearly makes it about herself and her problems. This could have worked better if she simply dismissed his feelings, got angry at him for basically swimming in cash, and then stopped there. We should have gotten an insight into her thoughts of why she feels this way or have it implied why she feels this way, rather than have her outright say it, because in this case, when she voices that and shifts everything back to herself it feels very purposeful and mean on her end rather than it just being her natural reaction. Instead of going “oh my life was terrible and way worse than yours” it would work better if she just called him a brat, told him to shut up, and then moved about her own business. That could also add a more interesting dynamic to these characters by having Kell be the emotional one and Lila be the one who Kell has to urge out of her shell by being the emotional support. It would be a role reversal of the traditional way most romances go, and again, I think Schwab was trying to do that, but the execution of it fell flat. My final gripe with this character is that she isn’t feral enough, and if Schwab had just made her more feral, this character would fit in perfectly. What I mean by feral is, exactly that honestly. She was too put together, too suave and cool and always knew what to say. If you’re gonna tell me this street urchin type orphan in 1800s London is cool and suave I’m gonna call bullshit cause no way this girl isn’t straight up feral and ready to bite someone’s nose off at the drop of a hat because that’s what she’s gotta do to survive. I just wish Schwab had gone down this route instead of the Lila we got, but oh well. It is what it is.

I’m only briefly going to talk about Rhy, Kell’s younger brother, because there isn’t too much I have to say about him and I feel like this is already long enough as is. Rhy is basically a cut and dry trope of the rich prince boy with a heart of gold. I love that archetype so I like Rhy, but to an extent. He seems to be only that trope and that’s it. There isn’t much more to him. Though he’s not as boring as Kell or as annoying as Lila so that’s a plus. I haven’t even talked about the twins that rule White London or Holland but again this is already too long, don’t need to make it longer and they also involve a lot of major spoilers that I don't want to get into.

Pacing

I know earlier that I said Schwab’s style of writing was very well done, that she clearly had a kind of rhythm for the writing itself, and I stand by that statement but the pacing is not good. It’s all over the place, it’s either too slow or too fast or just nonexistent. I’m going to use romance as an example of how the pacing is bad and I think you can tell that with a lot of books. If they have romance in them, which if we’re being real, they probably do, then the way in which the romance plays out can often be a good indicator of pace. The relationship is wonky so the pacing is wonky. To be honest, the relationship was something I didn’t buy. It went by too fast and when Lila kissed him it felt very robotic like they were just getting together because they were the breeding pair. They had no chemistry whatsoever even as friends. As friends, they were at least somewhat more tolerable, but like romantic partners, I just didn’t see it. The stilted romance was awkward and dumb and again, there was no chemistry, they were just shoved together because they were the only guy and girl and both had a POV. I don’t know the overall pacing was slow, and I don’t mind slow build-up books. One of my favorites, Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor is a very slow build-up book but it’s well done, it doesn’t drag. This book drags and the romance in it drags. When the pace picks up it’s like going a thousand miles an hour. When shit hit the fan in the book, I get that it was supposed to be fast-paced and tense but I was never tense while reading it I just kind of wanted the whole book to end so I didn’t have to keep slogging through it. I guess I just hoped that the ending would tie it all together and fix the pacing which is stupid on my part because that’s not at all what happened.

Conclusion

Well, that’s all I gotta say about it, I gave it three stars on GoodReads.

Buy the book here:

https://www.amazon.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Novel-Shades-ebook/dp/B00ME0TBFE

Buy it Used here:

https://www.abebooks.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Schwab-Victoria-Titan/30413099967/bd?cm_mmc=ggl-_-US_Shopp_Trade-_-used-_-naa&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDRNRjl8x-ktniE3IUmecyE1lDYlPxglxoLpBAYEt7C3ivyt9PPabkaAmTGEALw_wcB

or here

https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/a-darker-shade-of-magic_victoria-schwab/9043358/item/16041243/?mkwid=MUQmUYQc%7cdc&pcrid=70112856192&product=16041243&plc=&pgrid=18035380632&ptaid=aud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_content=MUQmUYQc%7cdc%7cpcrid%7c70112856192%7cpkw%7c%7cpmt%7c%7cproduct%7c16041243%7cslid%7c%7cpgrid%7c18035380632%7cptaid%7caud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383%7c&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDXbz2350Y8Tse02z5fKP_TgnPIH1DXhILOWkgk260VeZzQwUCgXbEaAsH5EALw_wcB#isbn=0765376466&idiq=16041243

Or just get it at your local library.

#a darker shade of magic #book #bookblog #character writing #pacing #a darker shade of magic series #complaing #complaining about books #setting #character analysis #fictional characters #writing style #library #spoilers #mild spoilers

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Sara!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character, CONFIDENCE “CONNOR” BROWN! This application was an absolute delight to read! I loved how developed you’ve made Connor and I feel like he’ll have a lot of really fun things to bring to the table. I am really excited to have an Order member who is sort of is he part of us, but yeah he’s really part of us. I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Sara

AGE: fourscore and seven years ago…

TIMEZONE: est

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m around every day and will try to post most days

ANYTHING ELSE: Nothing in particular, I can take care of my own squicks.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Confidence Brown (he goes by Connor)

AGE: 26

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Connor is certain he’s heard of this thing called gender, he even plays her every so often but… owning it? Having one? Oh, sorry, no. He hasn’t owned one since he was in fifth year and he realized he really didn’t have to. That did not go over well with his parents who had joined, and remain, part of a severe religious community. The whole witch thing also didn’t go over well but they made peace until makeup started coming out. Sexuality is much the same. Connor uses he/him pronouns and relishes the comparative freedom of the magical community verses the muggle in this regard.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin–what’s that? All Slytherin’s are blood purist arseholes? Connor might not have had the easiest path at Hogwarts or elsewhere but that’s not to say he didn’t make friends (or gather the right blackmail to smooth the way) and insinuating that everyone is evil from his house would earn a laugh or a hex and maybe both.

ANY CHANGES:

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

There are two certain things about Connor Brown: he’s going to survive and he’s going to be fabulous while doing it.

Sure his mother named him Confidence well before he showed any of that but he certainly grew into the name. How could he not with the looks kids gave him on the playground? And then when he first tumbled off the Hogwarts Express and into Slytherin. That’s not to say Connor deserves pity–oh no. He’s taken everything he’s gotten and cheerfully made it into something he can not only enjoy but thrive in.

Slytherin became a (sometimes dangerous) playground of learning who to befriend and who to blackmail (and Connor, true to the house he had been sent to, was always good at that). When he was asked to leave his parent’s house, he found another–a better one.

His ego led him to believe that he would have to gift the wizarding world with Camp but one accidental step down the wrong alley and into Ganymede Gentleman’s Club (it can’t be that, can it?) showed him that the wizarding world has known what Camp is for generations.

The problem is much of Connor is bravado and showmanship. Sure he is quite talented in disguising spells, and he’s always had a deft hand at arranging muggle or magical transportation! But every dance has to come to an end some time or else a guy or gal will twist their ankle and make it end. Connor has learned never to lean too hard on anyone and that self-protection has carried him well, but it’s a two-sided blade that can easily lead to a sloppy mistake that could get him or someone in his care killed. That’s not even to speak of his pridefulness and penchant for eavesdropping… and possibly lacing a drink or two.

For recon purposes, of course, and only for the Order.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

His parents Mary and Jon Brown disowned him after catching him coming home from a party all dressed up at eighteen. Parties were bad enough, what he was dressed in was worse. He moved out that night.

Be-Joyful Brown: sister. it took a while but now they are back in contact and even meet up occasionally… in public. She is two years younger than him.

Lavender Brown: Joy’s young daughter. Connor calls her the Lavender Menace… Joy doesn’t understand given that Lavender is an infant and can’t menace anything.

OCCUPATION:

Connor happened upon the Ganymede Gentleman’s Club shortly after being jumped by muggles outside of a muggle gay club. He crashed there for three nights before the owner took pity on him and gave him a job and a closet of a flat at the top of the town-home-turned revelry and tryst site.

Jobs Connor has had at the oldest Gentleman’s Club near Diagon Alley:

Waiter—more flirt then helpful

Doorman— less bouncer, more greeter looking for codewords

Bartender—more eye candy then proficiency

Entertainment—a continuous portion of Connor’s club life, although he has moved on from it for a full time gig

Host—a sort of lower level manager who tries to de-escalate while being a flirt

Manager of the House—arguably the highest job without owning the establishment

It’s important to note that this Magical Molly Club has functioned not just as a place for gentlemen (and women) of a certain disposition to meet, put on ridiculous shows, dance and play cards–but for married pureblooded people to meet up with their lovers. There's history here–but all of it laced with someone going shhh! And that is just the type of environment Connor needs when someone sends him a message asking for him to get some poor wix out of trouble in London and out to the McKinnon farm.

The actual space is just off Diagon Alley and is more a charmed and modified townhome than anything. The important thing is that it doesn’t look like anything and there’s even a keyword to get in. Inside there is a bar, a very small stage, and a lot of small tables that can be removed to create a dance floor. There are then a maze of rooms–because what better way to keep out unwanted guests and raids then magic helping scramble who might be where?

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

It’s all fun and games until people start dying. Connor comes from a very religious family and was a muggleborn in Slytherin: he knows what like to be hated on sight for something he can’t control. He also knows what he has in him to provide (housing, transportation, gossip) and he knows what he can’t (good support in a complicated duel or medical). Also, at the very end of it: Connor wants to help but he does not want to die. That doesn’t mean he’ll squeal, but it does mean he likely has a ticket for himself squared away if there should ever be a need. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst—and that’s his feelings about the Order in a nutshell. Connor has not survived this long by pinning his cloak to fantasy.

More clearly: Connor is a low-level member of the Order. He has no interest in climbing the ladder, little interest in skirmishes. He attends a bare minimum of meetings and functions as a sort of middle-stop for those who need to escape to the McKinnon farm. He puts people up in one of the ‘for rent’ rooms at the club and then finds the best way to move them…and sometimes that’s with him and an airplane ticket. He’s not the most well known and he’s happy with that, too, because it means he might get out if everything goes tits up.

SURVIVAL:

Is Connor part of the Order? He hadn’t heard of that. Truthfully, Connon makes very certain not to carry any identification on him that would imply, however indirectly, that he was part of the Order of the Phoenix. The most he might do is flirt with one who came into Ganymede Gentleman’s Club –but he flirts with everyone, really, so is that such a surprise? It might be more of a surprise if he flirted with Rodolphus Lestrange—and he’s not going to confirm or deny that. It goes so far that he’s not above disguising himself before going to Marlene’s for a meeting. Sure Marlene knows who he is, and Caradoc–any older Order Member, really, but why advertise? Besides, he likes dressing up. He doesn’t hide to those he hides in the club on the way to the McKinnon’s, however, because he figures they’re already scared enough and trusting someone with a fake face on would be a little too much.

RELATIONSHIPS: variable depending on the characters in-game. I do have some ideas but I would need to talk to some players to confirm since a few are likely to be apped!

Caradoc —They met when Connor was a first year and in tears over something he is certain was utterly stupid. Truthfully Connor does not remember what it was and doesn’t really care. He does care about Caradoc, however, and the ways he’s changed from Hogwarts to now. He sometimes gets on Caradoc’s case about his missing smile and the way he responds to some jokes nowadays but there’s a clear limit on what he can say—after all, Connor has changed, too.

Younger Order Members—Connor both delights and hopes to avoid many of the younger order members. He’s a need-to-know sort of bloke and most of them, well, he’s not sure they do. Then again, there’s always a sort of delight in seeing the gears turn in someone’s face as they try to place him, place the Club, or any other number of things… and, okay, he wouldn’t mind seeing some of the dramatics he’s heard about the younger members doing… so long as it all turns out okay in the end.

Connor as a first year at Hogwarts was rather sensitive—that swiftly changed into the sometimes garish, often entertaining, presentation he still manages today. The problem is he’s grown less and less able to take it off or put it to the side as the daily prophet brings darker news. He’s still a good friend but friends have to learn not to guard so much and that, along with the general air of suspicion that permeates the entire community, have likely begun to curdle all but the strongest of bonds.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Connor/Chemistry Connor/Ooops and Connor/One Night Stand Oh God No

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Connor would Iike to say his varied layers of what the hell bad times have predisposed him to being accepting of all…but the truth of the matter is Werewolves scare him. It’s not disgust. Its fear bred from, of all things, bad muggle horror movies. He was only six or seven, he snuck out of the movie he was supposed to see to see Curse of the Werewolf or something similar. So while he would swallow it and let someone in need in (what would he have done if someone hadn’t done the same to him?), there’s an honest fear response that comes from childhood. He’s also afraid of dogs, though, so he’d probably blame a whole canine sort of thing for his unease.

Connor is also a bit biased against Purebloods. Sure his friends are alright… but all that sneaking around because you’re married? It’s probably something bred from having a ultimately failed or doomed relationship with such a person but he has more then enough history to look at most Purebloods and go fuck you. This is also why he has such a cashe of secrets just-in-case.

Privilege wise: Connor has had the privilege to find safe places to land and make use of every not-so-great situation he’s found himself in. He has a solid job, he’s been able to make himself invaluable (although it’s unlikely the Pureblood who owns the Gentleman’s club would ever think about letting him own the space), and he is stable enough to help others. Thats pretty remarkable overall for a queer muggleborn born to working class parents.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I love a good AU, I love a game where you can create a little something more… and when the characters I considered got apps I tried to think: what could be useful here. I hope to muck around and make trouble for multiple characters…and introduce a little queer history into the backdrop.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): I don’t have any specific ideas right now but I imagine Ganymede Gentleman’s Club will be quite useful.

ANYTHING ELSE? N/A

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

This section is only if you are applying for a character that does not yet have a biography written (i.e. a character not listed on the character page). Essentially, any Marauders Era character can be applied for, so long as they can realistically fit into the plot and add substance to the roleplay! It may be a good idea to send a message to the main before you do this so we are all on the same page.

PAST: Connor’s parents joined a small offshoot of the Evangelical Alliance movement in the UK. Or, maybe, they were part of that community first and later it latched itself onto the Evangelical Alliance. Truthfully, Connor doesn’t remember which came first and it hardly seems important now. The important thing was, that it meant his childhood involved daily prayer, every-other-day church service, and the few children around all had names like Be-Faithful, Be-Joyful, and He-Provides. Confidence, by comparison, was a very reasonable name, although even before a witch showed up on their tiny flat’s doorstep his parents wished they had named him Humility instead. How he did not get stoned to death for being a wizard he will never know. He did start to suspect his parents had been bewitched when they couldn’t seem to look at his textbooks but not in a way that represented any sort of discomfort or pain. The second part of his childhood came with more than he could have ever imagined. The food was richer (and more plentiful, given that his mother worked only part-time in a shop and his dad worked as an assistant minister), the clothing more dramatic and in so many colors, and the magic. Slytherin was not the easiest house for a muggleborn but Connor rarely protested because there was always, always more and it was learn fast how to swim or drown.

PRESENT: It took a while. It took being sent from his parents’ home and not seeing his sister for a good three years—but Connor believes he has finally found his soft landing. Ganymede Gentleman’s Club is even more decadent than Hogwarts—and he gets to live there, and perform there, and talk to anyone who comes in the door (even if they don’t want to)! To make things better, Connor is able to get his well-powdered nose in the thick of gossip…and use his theatrics to help out others who might find their lives taking on too much water. He might not be able to do so indefinitely, the club only has a finite number of rooms ( he’s not a McKinnon!), but he can do something and he takes great pleasure in that. If that pleasure is partially in sticking his nose up at Pureblood politics, well…he’s allowed to have his heart in the right place and his unabashed glee right next to it.

FC CHOICES: Ezra Miller …and second option Keiynan Lonsdale

#homenumaccepted #marauders era #roleplay #literate rp #new rpg

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years

Text

Chat: Jo + Gray romcoms

(for lexy)

Jo> She likes pointless fluff movies. I’m being told I have to watch Friends With Benefits next after I finish the last 20 mins of the first half of this series

Jo> :l

Jo> *actually doesnt mind that movie just finds it hysterical Jo does*

Grey> Is Friends with Benefits the one with Mila Kunis?

Jo> Yep

Grey> Who’s the male lead in that?

Jo> Justin Timberlake

Grey> Ah

Jo> It’s kind of hilarious that Jo likes that movie

Grey> Because of how she is about relationships?

Jo> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_CVAI_twO0 and then http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XA6M-V4oHso first 20 seconds just… kind of amazingly hilarious.

Jo> She’s somewhere between or actually boh main characters at once

Jo> (Also the Train in the background of the first cracks me up)

Grey> TRAIN IN THE BACKGROUND LOL

Jo> Yeeeep

Grey> You linked me the sex scene? LOL *signs in*

Jo> Its the end of the crappy romcom movie that the girl wanted to watch and the guy spent the entire time paying out.

Jo> LOL

Jo> Yes

Jo> Because

Jo> First 20 seconds is magic

Jo> …hell the entire thing is magic

Jo> And hilariously like if Jo were a guy and a girl at the same time

Jo> honest to god

Grey> “I sneeze sometimes after I come” *drink everywhere*

Jo> Wait for it

Grey> HES SINGING

Jo> LOL

Grey> “WHOA TOO FAR”

Jo> “When women start to scream it can me misconstrued”

Grey> *dead*

Grey> So much for just once

Jo> LOL Yeeeep.

Jo> Can you see kind of where I get my amusement from?

Grey> Yep

Jo> “Grab my hair.” “Kiss my neck”

Grey> *dies at butt part*

Jo> *nodnod*

Grey> Oh my god

Grey> Oh man mom walking in at the end

Jo> Lol yep

Jo> I find so much fucking amusement from that movie and the fact it’s number 3 on Jo’s fave ‘romcom’s

Grey> What are the first two?

Jo> Pretty Woman and Miss Congeniality

Grey> Awwwww Miss Congeniality. "So her top favorites are about a hooker finding a sugar daddy, a tomboy becoming a barbie doll and two friends fucking?“ Gray that’s not… no.

Jo> "Got a problem with that?” Gray. Darling. No… …though he has a point but no…

Grey> “Other than your taste in movies is shit. No.” He’s got the air of implying about him.

Jo> “…I’m just glad it was top three then, I’m sure you’d find the next two just as shit…” Jo is well aware the implication and I am snickering my head off

Grey> “And what are those, Legally Blonde and The House Bunny?” *pets her*

Jo> “…no. Clueless and a tie between 500 Days of Summer and Runaway Bride….

Jo> ” She knows how bad those are, but theyre better than Legally Blonde and House Bunny at least. (What’s Your Number, Stardust, Legally Blonde, You’ve Got Mail and Sleepless In Seattle round out the top ten though)

Grey> “*snickering*” Yeah. The House Bunny is shit but Legally Blonde isn’t bad imo. It’s got Matt Davis in it for one so…

Jo> “…oh go ahead. Say it.” Lol yeah House Bunny is. Legally Blonde’s pretty alright - the second is dreadful though.

Grey> “Say what that you have horrible picks and clearly just want some guy to swoop in a rescue you?” Second one doesnt exist in my mind. Because I like the first one too much to admit it.

Jo> “You just don’t like romantic comedies and most of those involve free thinking, independent women who can survive all on their own without a man…sorta.” LOL I cried my way through it. In pain.

Grey> “Except they all end up with a guy and the whole plot of them is either "fucks a dude and keeps fucking him” or “discovers she’s ladylike after all”.“ I saw it on tv once, attempted to watch then switched the channel 5 minutes in because it was hurting

Jo> "Pretty Woman is about how you aren’t just your job - that there is more to a person than just that; Miss Congeniality is about doing the right thing, and that everyone can be more than what their intial appearance might suggest; FoB is about how… sometimes worrying about the labels of things can ruin something that’s working and that …getting over that shit’s for the best…” It’s dreadful..

Grey> “Uh huh.” Yeah I dont know what charm the first one has that the second one is missing but you can definitely tell it’s missing it. Same with Miss Congeniality, first movie is cute second movie makes you want to tear out your eyes

Jo> (Oh god, I just realised the girl in Friends with Benefits at the start is going to go see Pretty Woman at the cinema as some romcom weeklong thing and her then bf dumps her out front and she’s already missed the boots)

Grey> *DEAD*

Jo> “…shut up, alright. God, a girl is allowed to like pointless fluff sometimes!” LOL So so true. The same goes for Bring It On. *crying at this movie again now*

Jo> (“You know I love this movie! If a prostitute and a ruthless businessman who fall in love, then anyone can. *wistful sigh/tone*” *dying*)

Grey> “I would think you get enough of that with the runt.” Oh my god that’s hilarious

Jo> “…I think your brother knows better than to..freak me out with that sort of thing. Reality, fiction, don’t cross the streams..much.” I know. I forgot it and now Im dead.

Grey> “So he’s not constantly trying to bring you flowers or jewelry or anyt of that other crap? I’m surprised he has so much restraint.” No wonder Jo likes the movie

Jo> “No, he’s not. Seems you don’t know him quite as well as you think…” Oh yeah. … http://youtu.be/GvBNVJjhj4Q?t=11s Just… start o the film is pretty much this. And yep. It totally does.

Grey> “Or he doesn’t like you as much as he says he does.” I feel bad for Justin’s character cause that bitch crazy

Grey> “Next time just shit on my face cause that’s the same thing” no it isnt lady

Jo> Wait for the explanation of Mila’s character

Grey> WOW Andy’s a dick

Jo> LOL Yuuuuup

Grey> *spit take at Justin*

Jo> Just wait

Jo> It gets more

Grey> *DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD*

Jo> “Or maybe he likes me as much as he says he does and doesn’t want me to feel uncomfortable or pressured and is making sure I’m okay with things.” I KNOW RIGHT?! AND THATS JUST THE FIRST THREE MINUTES OF THE MOVIE

Grey> “If he liked you as much as he said, he’d get you flowers. Because that’s what Grey does, flowers and chocolate and bubble baths with candles and rose petals and all the other lame shit because that’s what he does, he does the lame "romantic” crap and he likes doing that. So he either doesnt actually care that much or he’s completely terrified of you and is too scared to even approach the matter"

Grey> That’s hilarious

Grey> Especially Justin’s just completely lunatic of the girlfriend. Like Mina’s guy was just lazy and a jerk but Justin’s girl was fucking monkeynuts crazy

Jo> “He would not - he might want to, but right now? He wouldn’t. I prefer non-materialistic things anyway so…” I know. She’s amazing. She keeps calling too. I seriously recommend it if you have a few hours to spare or fill or are bored sometime because that movie is just great. Better than No Strings (the Portman/Kutcher one)

Grey> “If he wouldnt its because you’re scaring him. But hey if you’re cool with him being too scared to say what he wants then….” It does look a lot funnier than Natalie’s

Jo> “I am not /scaring/ him. He knows he can say whatever he likes to me or bring up stuff…. …” It is. I’ve seen both several times, Friends With is much better. The original Coke to Nat’s new.

Grey> “Sure he does. That’s why he didn’t tell you he loved you for the longest time. Because he’s totally not afraid to talk to you.” I feel like I should just watch both then Black Swan to mindfuck myself but I can’t right now lol

Jo> “He does, and… that’s none of your business, and it wasn’t 'the longest time’, was barely three months after..” LOL Oh god that would be dreadful.

Grey> “Uh huh. And he hasnt really said it again has he?” Yep it would

Jo> “He has too. …a few times.” Brainfuck indeed.

Grey> “And I bet you know exactly how many because it doesnt happen a lot.” Completely

Jo> “…your point being? People don’t have to say they love one another all the time, I’m sure you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve said it.”

Grey> “Because I’m a arrogant asshole monster who doesn’t really give two shits to get emotional about things. Does that sound like Grey to you?”

Jo> “…no. Sounds a little like me though, so instead - how often has Anna said it to you, huh? Just because he doesn’t say it often doesn’t mean he doesn’t know he can ask about things or talk about stuff.”

Grey> “More than five times less than twenty. He’s stupid though, how would you know he knew he could ask if he doesnt feel like he could say it? Doesnt matter now I guess with that collar on you he’ll be too freaked out to do much of anything”

Jo> “..Oh. ….Because he knows me? Because neither of us is going to judge or fly off the handle? Because I haven’t gone running yet? ….shut up, fuck you.”

Grey> “If he knows you he knows that your terrified of getting attached and won’t bring it up for fear of driving you away. I’m just stating facts.”

Jo> “Otherwise known as caring and respecting a loved ones boundaries. And you say that like we’re not attached, because we are, so shove off. …you’re being a dick with the truth.”

Grey> “Otherwise known as being spineless. Wait until he wants to get married then see how attached you are. Better than just being a dick right?”

Jo> “There’s a difference - one is being respectful, the other has no basis other than fear for it. …. ………. Let’s not talk about that, ever, again. Oh shut up..”

Grey> “So how do you know he’s doing it out of respect instead of fear? Just wait.”

Jo> “Because, I just do. …And I said again…”

Grey> “Uh huh. You’re going to run when you see that little box.”

Jo> “…. ….I’m not going to run..” Mental commentary: “I’m going to politely say I need time to think, excuse myself and go hide under the covers. The fastest will be a brisk walk. Yes. No running. It’d be fine.”

Grey> “Yes you are. Watching him bend his knee and go into his pocket for it is just going to scare you so badly you’re going to take off running like a scared deer.” Awwww poor Jo

Jo> “No. I’m… I have more restraint than that even if that /isn’t/ my response.” Think she’d feel bad for it but..unless she suggests it she’ll probably freak.

Grey> “You’re right, cause he’s probably going to do it in public. You wouldnt want to make a scene. All those eyes on you expecting to say yes especially his when he looks so happy and expectant.” He wouldnt ask. I mean like… probably never unless they actually had a kid. Because he knows it wouldnt work

Jo> ( http://youtu.be/VIirTZQWJBg?t=30s *crying* Guess Jo has a penis where her vaginas supposed to be)

Grey> (SO DEAD. Oh Woody Harrelson you are always hilarious)

Jo> “…shut up. How do you know the answer would be no? Or that I wouldn’t be the one askin’? Everyone’s always calling me the boy of us…” Cue gray laughing head off. And yeah, no - I’d figured he probably wouldn’t, what’s sad is a marriage would work but proposing the idea wouldnt. (IKR? He’s a gay sports writer)

Grey> “Because you don’t do commitment? You… ask him… *laughing*” *nods* He’d figure they couldnt therefore wouldnt ask unless its a kid in which case he’d feel like “this is a family now” and ask. (He’s hilarious. I lost it)

Jo> “I do sometimes. …. *tries not to laugh as well* Yeah, okay shut up..” Yep - which I think he might be able to get a yes if he didn’t say it was cause she was preg or had had a baby, mde the family comment instead. (LOL Yeeep)

Grey> “Fine. That was funny enough I’ll shut up. *still laughing*” *nods* I think his approach would be something like “I’d like for us to be a family. And I want to be officially part of that family.” Plus that way if something happens to Jo the kids stay with him. (Armpit girl? Do I even want to know…)

Jo> ( http://youtu.be/GJucbfuvh-A armpit girl)

Grey> (Oh Justin baby what is it with you and crazy broads)

Jo> “Glad you enjoyed it… *fails at holding back a giggle* Okay seriously, I’m not that bad.. or I’m not the worst, so shuddup.” Yeah, that would actually probably work. (Yeeeep)

Grey> “Not the worst? Right okay compared to like me or something.” And of course Grey would have the sense enough not to try to make a big affair of it, nor would he want to

Jo> “There are worse people out there without going straight to you, Gray.” Yep yep - big affair woul get a no.

Jo> (Oh god, I forgot the guy in this has a stutter when he was nervous)

Grey> “*indignantly* Are not. I’m the worst. End of discussion.” *slaps Gray for wanting to look like the horrible monster again* I think the closest he’d come to that was asking if she wanted her mother there or any close friends. (So dead)

Jo> “Sure thing, I just meant there were people between the two of us on the worse scale is all.” *snickers at him* lol true true. Knowing Jo she’d not want much, or until after. (Yeeep)

Grey> “Nope. You’re close enough to me there’s no one left between us.” *nods* Jesse go to bed jo harvelle gray chat complete Aug 21st, 2012

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abundantchewtoys · 5 years

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HS Epi: Meat p20 reaction

[S] John: Open Wallet? I'm guessing we're through with Calliope and Roxy's perspective for now.

Instinctively I'd say we'll switch to Karkat and Dave now, and see Dave get knocked out. But I'm actually not sure if the fact that Rose fell asleep has anything to do with Jade falling unconscious. With Rose, it could have been due to her migraines and being generally low on energy.

It would be interesting that Jade is undergoing this because of her (severed) ties to the Green Sun, which has now become the Black Hole.

It's a special occurence, in any case. Because the dreambubbles are gone, and even if they weren't, I'm not sure that they still dreamt there after the victory. John's dreams about the Black Hole might have been due to him accumulating memories of doomed Johns.

---

"Jade gasps awake, and begins to spiral.

Her body vibrates, sending waves of space distortion out in all directions." She awakens! ... Unless it's Reload Jade. :P We've had a "Jade and switch" before in this story, remember? And I'm guessing she instinctively calls on her aspect in her duress.

"But there’s nothing to absorb those distortions—no space, no nothing. She’s floating in a void of pure, overwhelming light." Yup, the new dimension replacing the Furthest Ring.

"She feels it even before she feels the pain from the wound in her chest. The vast emptiness surrounding her. The absolute abyss once known as the Furthest Ring." This is Reload Jade! Or, alternatively, post-victory Jade woke up in her double's body. Doesn't seem like a Space thing, but it might be a god tier thing.

Perhaps it's post-victory Jade's consciousness, but even if she were to awake again on Earth C, Reload Jade would continue to function as a separate entity.

Maybe it's due to the nature of their existence outside of canon that they can "connect" with selves inside canon that exist "at the same time" as them, as if they were dream self bodies.

"For a moment, she has the feeling that she’s recalling something. Images and sounds in her head that resemble memories. But the memories aren’t hers, exactly. They seem to be someone else’s." Oooh! Fancy, it seems the connection doesn't work as I expected! It's like her two disjoint selves are connected by the tiniest sliver. Maybe it's how it all started out for Dirk with some of his shards, like Brain Ghost Dirk. Is it perhaps due to her Witch of Space powers? Something about making connections through the vastness of Space, which used to be represented in her as serving as a portal.

It's sad to think that none of the others, Dave and Rose, can experience this. Unless we learn that, somehow, making the connection counts as a free resurrection, independent of the god tier judgment. But I doubt that.

"The memories are slipping away, anyway. Quickly, they dissolve, and soon they’re completely out of her mind’s reach, like she’s waking from a dream." This Jade, at least, isn't far enough on her god tier rung yet. Maybe every god tier has the potential for making the connection, and in case different timelines would run side by side for long enough, two selves could start to grow into the same ultimate self separately, thus becoming one consciousness in multiple bodies. Like Sollux.

"That black hole.

She looks away from it. Quickly, reflexively, the way you turn away from a light source that’s too bright." It's like it's antigonal to her aspect, even though it came from a Spacey thing.

"The hole causes the same kind of discomfort to behold. It’s so dark it hurts. Yet it calls her." Oh, so it's still in tune with her aspect. ... This is such a wrong moment to be reminded of John considering to poop on his desk, but: "And yet, the clean polished surface... It beckons." Could it be a remnant of Alternate Calliope beckoning her, though?

"It’s pure... negative potential. The absence of a future. The thing skewering her through right now is the space between breaths, between atoms. She tries to remove it but has trouble getting a grip on it. It fails to behave like a solid piece of matter, remains lodged within her stubbornly. It hurts, but she won’t finish dying. Not just yet." It's like she's frozen in her death throes by the thing. And perhaps, if it truly is meant to be a quantum vacuum, it's how she's able to "wield" it, as a Space player.

Maybe it's even the reason she's now connected with her Earth C self - maturing god tiers absorb other selves' memories after their death, but since she keeps making new ones...

In the Goblins web comic, a character made an elemental weapon from oblivion itself. I'm kind of reminded of the shard here, now.

"Her memories crease as she moves, filling her mind with the knowledge of the last few hours. She’s sixteen, she thinks, trying to orient herself. And she just fought Lord English after being plucked out of a doomed timeline. At least, if you can even call what she did fighting. But what was that dream? It was significant, she’s knows that much. Dave and Karkat? Why did they jump into her mind as a unit? Earth C. What’s Earth C?" Nice, so she CAN still recall some things if she exercises herself. That's going to prove useful for relaying messages between John and Earth C, perhaps.

"Two different understandings of her world knit into each other as easily as she takes her next breath." ... Well, that's one way for Lonely Jade (as the fans nicknamed her) to at least get a bit of repayment for the three years without her friends on the ship, getting depressed. If this works the other way around as well, I mean.

"Urgency bleeds off her neural receptors, melts right out of her fingertips. She lets herself float, unmoored, carried along an ebb tide in space that only she can perceive." Strange, how it seems she's getting the handle on this so quickly! Although, if Reload Jade is taking the place of a dreamself in this analogy, if we recall Dream Jade didn't let her confusing or missing memories stop her from achieving anything. :P

"She wonders if anyone else survived. She wants to see John." ... Yeah, she's probably going to have a separate adventure, at least for a little while, with the way this is worded.

"She didn’t notice the moment she turned her gaze back toward the black hole. But now she couldn’t look away if she tried. In slow, hazy spirals, it beckons her. The longer she stares at it, the deeper she peers into the folds of infinite atrophy Spirals, like the space sign. I don't think she's really meant to look into that, it seems to be hypnotic. And Space thing or not, that kind of Void is better left to other aspects.

", and the louder it gets. Loud?" ... Don't tell me she can still hear Vriska screaming. I also hope it isn't a higher, ascended form of the Horrorterrors, thank you very much.

"She only now notices there is sound emanating from it, but not the kind physical ears can detect. The hole has a voice—one that becomes material the more the expanding black sphere dominates her senses." ... I don't like the motivations of a Black Hole, not even if it contains the consciousness of Alternate Calliope. Plus, she by nature of being a cherub unfamiliar with human emotions, would have a very different sense of morality.

"She hears the voice fill up the dark space between her ribs. It’s calling to her from the center of the death of everything." The Void is looking back. I tell you, listening to that beckoning call and going near it can't end well. It's like it's this thing from a horror movie, hypnotizing people to walk (or float) to their deaths.

"She kicks off her ruby red slippers, and drifts ever closer." ... Please don't have these slippers be the sole remnant of her later, for John (or Terezi) to find... Because then, I don't want to think about the implication behind John finding his Dad's wallet floating around.

"come." EEEeeeessh. So it really is Alternate Calliope. And, uh, I hope she isn't taking over the narration as well, what with how this isn't a dialog line but more of a sound effect. So, is she calling to everyone now, her persona reduced to being a starved, raving celestial object? D:

"What the fuck?

Forget I said that." See! It WAS a narrative line, and it came from Dirk himself. Eesh, so he felt the reverberations of the call all the way there. And he doesn't know everything about what's happening, much as he likes to tell himself otherwise.

"She considers asking who is speaking, but her mouth stays shut, powerless against the forces transfixing her." I was going to ask where Alternate Calliope learned to hypnotize people, but she's a literal giant black-on-white spiral now.

"Jade has no way of knowing who this voice belongs to. She has no context for understanding the true nature of this being, what role she has played in bringing about the end, and how long she has been waiting for this. She has no idea. But I do." ... Are we to be getting an alternate backstory for Alternate Calliope now? A more sinister one. With how Dirk was phrasing this, it seems to imply her intentions aren't benign, I mean. Unless Jade is to bring her a final piece of salvation from her current state, but how even.

"The dead cherub is making her move." ... She's been playing the REALLY long game, hasn't she? I guess the more out-there fan theories, of a second boss behind Lord English, like what (Tavros) alluded to, are being proven correctly. ... I kind of feel like when we learned Dirk and Roxy were actually living in the future during [S] Enter. Homestuck keeps surprising by proving out-there theories correct, even after the end.

"We should get the fuck out of here. Let’s see what Dave’s up to, okay?" Pffff, Dirk is schedaddling. I'm guessing when we're John again, it might not be entirely his idea, since the situation is upsetting him as well.

So, Alternate Calliope seems to have deviated from the path of the benefactor, that green-blooded cherubs normally follow. I mean, continuing to exist and consume everything after Lord English was taken care of - it doesn't seem like she's planning anything nice.

Well now. This was another thing I didn't see coming. Good for you, Homestuck, keep up that level of zany, unexpected yet explainable developments, I missed it!

#homestuck #upd8 #reaction #spoiler alert #homestuck epilogues #homestuck liveblog #jade harley #alternate calliope #dirk strider

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virmillion · 6 years

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The Sun is Running Late

in celebration of finishing my big bang fic (!!!!!), have some self-indulgent not-quite-angst

Warnings - death mention, implied suicide, the entire thing centers on the end of the world, first person POV (its roman), let me know if you need anything else tagged

Words - 3400

You know what? Everyone always has a different view of how the apocalypse will come about, what they’d do, how they’d survive it. Even in more common situations, like school and workplaces, I guarantee you everyone in that building has, at one point or another, figured out their plan for when they met their end. So many different notions for the same situation, whether it’s to defend everyone around you, to run for cover, to go on the offense, but no one can really know what they would do until they’re put in that situation.

I guess that’s why I was so accepting of my own complacency with my looming demise—I had planned to stand up and fight back all along, so proving myself wrong was less of a reality check and more of an inevitable surrender.

As it stands, waking up to a sunrise isn’t the worst way to spend my last day alive, I suppose. If you wanted to get into the specifics of how bad a nine am sunrise is, more power to you, but I’d rather take the streaking pinks and melting oranges than contemplate how deadly such a beautiful sight is. Even with the sky in tatters, shot through with angry reds and blinding yellows, it’s a welcome view in an otherwise empty town. After everyone left, there wasn’t a whole lot to do besides admire, so I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much.

Okay, so I didn’t technically see the sun rising, but I did get to see the residue of it in the shards of mirror beside my mattress. Atop a pile of blankets, all intentionally familiar smells, I could just barely see the sun demanding my attention, of which I have a surplus. Naturally, I took the most logical step to follow and tumbled my way onto the hardwood floor. With the cold resistance serving as a reminder that I still had a life to live, I made my way outside.

Awesome. All caught up. I’m facing my last day, the town is empty, the sun is running late, and the world is silent.

With the smallest of grimaces at the quickly rising heat, I turn back to check everything in the building—okay, the shack, if we’re being honest, but I’m trying to be polite here. That photo of them still hangs proud over the door, the edges tattered and burnt. We all looked so happy when we took that, it almost feels like a mockery to look back on the memory with fondness. The mattress stolen from a warehouse down the street remains where it always has, and where I suspect it always will—I’m sure I won’t make it through the day, but I’ll be damned if that mattress ever disappears.

Speaking of not making it through the day, I glance up once more. The sky—it used to be blue, I remember, just like his eyes, but not anymore. Now nothing would dare come between the sun and the planet, nothing would dare try to put out the small fires littering the street. Beside me, a stray old newspaper rolls away, burning like an ant under a microscope. Above it all, the sun, glowing yellow and orange and proud. It’s the center of that ball of fire, truthfully, that makes me so certain of my looming demise. The sun has never been purple in the center before.

The funniest thing, though, is that this isn’t too different from normal anymore. Yeah, I still feel a pang in my chest when I think about them, and I know I’ll be making the daily trek out to the cemetery like always, and I know it’s always been my fault, but that doesn’t mean I can change it. It just means that I’ve gone numb to the pain. Would’ve been better if I’d been the one to go instead of Thomas, but what can you do, right?

Finally content with the inevitable, I reach down to grab the red water pitcher. I’m not quite clear on how its contents haven’t evaporated under the relentless heat, but I’m not about to question convenience, either. Every flower, every tree, and every little weed gets a splash of water on my way down to the main road, leaving the shack behind me as I go. By the time the pitcher runs dry, the neighborhood animals have all started coming out of the woodwork.

I offer each of them the usual bits of food from my pockets, careful to lure the shy ones further away to prevent fights. A fruitless endeavour, I know, since they’ll all be gone tomorrow, but it’s nice to feel like I’m making just a small difference, just for a little while, you know?

Even the birds flock to me, demanding food I don’t have, attention I can’t give. I have one task to carry out today, one more apology to make, and they aren’t involved in it.

A single bead of sweat trickling down my back turns into a torrent as the sun rises still, drawing closer to me with every step. Weaving between the cars, all abandoned in everyone’s haste to escape, I duck to avoid seeing the side mirrors. I haven’t seen my face in two years, and I’m not about to start now. I looked perfectly fine in that picture with them, and even if they’re gone now, I’d rather pretend I haven’t changed.

A cough wrenches its way from my throat, reminding me why, exactly, they left me here. I hate it, the remembering of why they left me, of the hurt in Virgil’s eyes, of the cold acceptance in Logan’s. Once he knew I wouldn’t make it, he severed all ties as if we hadn’t been friends for years at that point. It’s understandable, I guess—no one wants to take an asthmatic off the planet, especially not one prone to illness. Much easier to lose one life than risk thousands.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less, but I see his point.

I flinch away as a car beeps loudly at me, still unused to the curious animals that have taken up residence in the unlocked vehicles. Granted, they’ve inhabited several more than they would have, had I not smashed in the windows to create new homes, but still. Just pretend that I did it so there were less opportunities for me to see my own face. Humor a dying man’s last wish, won’t you? Or, well, no, don’t do that, I guess. Can’t really honor the wish if I’m already gone, huh? Ha, yeah, that’s a little more logical. That’s what Logan, would say, anyway.

I wish he were here.

I shake the thought from my mind, continuing on my way. The path is treacherous, to say the least, what with the drastic climate changes lately. Warped roads and new hills appear at every turn, intent on blocking me off from my destination. One thing I will say in the sun’s favor—its refusal to submit has certainly forced me to be more physically fit. As much as I can be, at least.

Another car rolls down a hill, missing me by mere inches as I hop onto the curb. That was Patton’s car, I remember. It crunches over some loose limbs before bumping to a stop, evidently not high enough in the momentum department to outdo a complete body. Stoppable force, meet dead object. I believe you two have interacted before, but reconciling with old acquaintances is always fun.

Oh, right. I might’ve forgotten to mention how many lives we lost trying to escape. Mostly skin and bones at this point, all separated and unidentifiable after so long in the sun. I wonder if they all knew it was the end. Maybe no one did. Logan knew, that’s for sure. He knew exactly what he was doing when he left me here, and he knew exactly what Thomas would do when he found out.

That doesn’t mean this is Logan’s fault, don’t get me wrong. This is just because of my faulty genetics. Logan was acting to preserve humanity, regardless of what planet that would happen on.

I finger at the red sash roped over my shoulder, rubbing my thumb over the stump where my shoulder ends. Yeah, burying my old friends was a little difficult to do with one arm, but someone had to do it. The only reason their bodies still litter the streets is that the graveyard ran out of room. Probably would’ve been able to find a new burial ground if it weren’t for the bum leg, either.

I suspect you’re starting to get a better picture of why they left me behind.

Somewhere overhead, a bell tolls—the only real sound I’ve heard in the last two years. There’ve been hallucinations and everything, sure, but those are just in my head. This ringing bell, this is what reminds me that I am, in fact, still alive, no matter how much I might hate that reality. It chimes off nine more times—ten am, if I’m to believe that matters in any way. It doesn’t, really, so much as it means the sun is lurking ever closer, a deadly beam of unstoppable heat that’s probably going to kill me where I stand without me even noticing. I’ll be gone before I know what happened.

Wishful thinking.

I think it’s right about here, dear reader, that everything sort of hit me. You know how that happens? How all at once, you realize just how awful everything is? Yeah. Yeah, right here, as I remember the pain in Virgil’s eyes as Logan dragged him away, as I reflect on the resigned acceptance as Patton turned away, didn’t even say goodbye, didn’t even give me one last hug because it would’ve killed us right then and there, neither of us would’ve made it, I would’ve held on too tight and never let go and the sun would’ve obliterated everything and still I wouldn’t have let go—

Yeah.

Yeah, that’s right now.

I feel my legs give out beneath me, collapsing to the pavement and leaning up against a blue car. It might’ve been Logan’s, maybe not, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. He’s gone, and I’m certainly not about to drive it. I can hear the animals calling in the distance, bemoaning the rising temperatures, and I can even see the steam hovering low over the black concrete, but it doesn’t really matter by now. I’ve accepted it, so I shouldn’t be so upset about what’s coming.

People always talk about how they don’t realize they’re crying until someone else points it out, how they don’t notice the tears until their sleeves are stained with snot and salt. A nice sentiment, that your mind removes the sadness before you can notice, but it’s not me. I feel it all the way in my gut, that same stabbing ache as my eyes burn, as I press the heel of my hand against them. The world turns black behind the safety of my makeshift blindfold, spots popping up that vanish when I try to see them. Everything has vanished, including my will to stop crying, because what’s the point? No one’s going to see me, and certainly no one will care that my last moments were spent in tears.

By the time a sizable puddle builds up beneath me, I’ve gathered the sense to press my head between my knees. I don’t know whether this helps at all, but it certainly can’t do anything to diminish my bravery—I never had enough of that, anyway.

Running, though. Running, I can do. Running, I can do quite well, because I can focus on the burn in my chest instead of the burn behind my eyes. Encouraged by this smallest of sentiments, I rise on annoyingly shaky legs, taking off and letting my legs do the work. I’m sure the rubber of the soles is nearly melted through with every slap against the pavement, but that doesn’t really matter, does it? No one else is going to be using these shoes.

This might be about where you ask what’s going on here. Why didn’t you off yourself after everyone left? Why are you running when there’s nowhere to run to? Why are you crying out of nowhere? Why are you avoiding how truly terrified you are of the world ending?

This might also be where I would give you some answers, if I thought you deserved them. Do you? Have you earned the right to see the final thoughts of a dead man? How do you measure that, even? Did you think to yourself, oh, I wouldn’t have left him behind, so surely I’m a good person? Did you think that? Maybe you did, and maybe it’s true, but that’s just what you want to think. You weren’t there, not when they were. You weren’t there to see Logan’s sleepless nights, where he was so determined to find a way to bring me along. You weren’t there to see Virgil’s rage, when he started shattering glass and lighting buildings on fire, because there was nothing else to do. You weren’t there to see Patton’s desperation, to see him curled up in a corner, his face expressionless because he didn’t want anyone to know just how much he was hurting—no, he wanted to comfort me in our last hours together. You weren’t there to see that. You’re walking in on my story in the final pages, and you assume you know what the author was thinking from chapter one.

Well, I have some news for you.

You don’t know what the author was thinking.

I’m the author of this doomed story, and I don’t like knowing how it ends.

So maybe you’ll lend me your ear, just a little longer, before I run out of ink.

Sorry.

Sorry for going off on you like that. I know it’s hard, and I know I have no excuse, but seeing my splintered reflection in shattered car mirrors is apparently more than I can take. I pause in the middle of the road, entranced by my own eyes, ringed in red, soaked in hate. They stare back at me, and I hate to think they’re mine. I hate to think what manner of empty husk I’ve become by now, just how awful of a person I must have been to get here. I’m not trying to play the victim game, but maybe you’ll forgive me for it—you are, after all, reading this, after I’ve been long gone. It’s probably been thousands of years for you to have gotten this far. I hope the future is nicer than the now.

Up ahead stands the cemetery I unintentionally overstocked with people I barely knew. At the farthest point from the entrance, nestled among the sprawling roots of an oak tree, is that slab of concrete. I will admit that I never learned how to engrave, so the sharpie ink is streaking down, but I like to think that makes it look more unique. Thomas always wanted a cooler name, but I was the one creating the headstone, so I got to pick what went on it. Even now, his name looks painfully beautiful in the careful calligraphy.

This is the part where a normal person might talk aloud, voice their feelings to the indifferent sky. I don’t do that. I haven’t heard my voice since they left, since I swallowed the goodbye and merely waved from the mattress. You would think I could conjure up the willpower to talk to Thomas one last time, to apologize for not noticing, to apologize for not getting there in time, to apologize for not knowing the way to the bridge, to apologize for not paying enough attention to him, to apologize for watching Patton instead of looking out for him, to apologize for—

Yeah. Yeah, you would think I’d be humane enough to talk to my own dead brother, but no. I can’t make myself do it. Maybe it’s out of solidarity, that my last words to Thomas were my last words ever, but there’s no real way to say for sure. In all likelihood, this won’t affect you in any way once you lose interest in my story, but thinking what I can’t say is the only closure I’ve ever had. I love you, I thought to Thomas, but I never said it. I’m sorry, I thought to Thomas, but I never said it. Please come back, I thought to Thomas, but there never would have been a way for him to hear it. In a world melting down by its own source of life, his headstone is the only thing cold anymore.

You know, this started as a way for me to chronicle my last days before the end of the world. I don’t even know if you found the volumes preceding this one. I’ve always had so much to say, but what are the odds a stranger will pick up a random set of a few thousand words and care about them? Not very high, I suspect, but again, you’re reading this, so what do I know?

The way back to that stupid mattress is relatively clear, save for the usual bodies and cars. I sidestep them like any other day, readily ignoring the glaring light that just won’t go away. By the time I make it back to the shack, almost everything is gone. Far more stray animals litter the path, well into their stages of rigor mortis, and I’d like to say I don’t shed a tear at the loss. It wouldn’t be true, but I’d still like to say it.

More streaks of red pierce the sky, a much angrier pink than before as the backdrop. The yellow has all but vanished, and the orange is on its last legs as the red takes over. That same purple pinpoint, right in the center of the sun, is far too close for comfort. I can see the door to the shack now, burning away like little more than paper. I know it’s guaranteed death, but I also know I have to do this. Even as the sun sinks lower, even as everything takes on a pinkish red sheen, I know I have to see that picture again. It’ll be the last thing I do, that much is certain, but it matters.

To me, it matters.

I almost wish I were gone already, that the world had taken me at Thomas’s side. I wish I weren’t here anymore, because then I wouldn’t have to fear never seeing them again, I wouldn’t even have time to worry about it. It’s because the sun is running late, it wasn’t here on time this morning, and it’s just dragging out my end.

The screen of red is nearly blinding now, shutting out almost everything in sight as I force my way through the smoking front door. The picture is right where it should be, all five of us grinning out as if nothing was wrong. That was back when they were convinced I could come, when no one knew anything was wrong with Thomas, when Logan hadn’t given up on me.

With a blistering hand, my palm cracking, I take down the picture and admire my smile. Still had a full set of arms then, too. Such is life, I guess, that part of me left before the rest of me could follow. How insensitive of my own limb, to abandon me like this. Downright rude, is what that is.

My vision is but a pinhole now. My head aches, I can’t feel my legs, and my tears are evaporating faster than they can fall. I can feel my eyes drying themselves out, but that doesn’t mean I can make them stop. Even my lungs are giving up, protesting against the suffocating air.

If I focus, I can just barely make out the edges of the photo, curling in as they blacken in my hand. The world tunnels as the sun becomes fully blinding, only the smallest pinprick of sight left.

As the picture falls from my stiff hand, already in ashes before it hits the floor, the last thing I catch a glimpse of is Thomas, grinning bright and wide.

A similar smile adorns my own face.

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possiblyimbiassed · 6 years

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What happened to Sherlock? Part IV – Heartbreak and coma (2)

This is the second post of the fourth installment of my meta series where I try to use Sherlock’s own methods to find out what’s happened to him in the show; you can read the first one here. This is about my hypothesis #4: At some point in time between TSoT and HLV, Sherlock takes an overdose of drugs and ends up in coma. In the first post I tested a prediction to try to verify the coma part. Here are the remaining four predictions that I’ll test the same way, corresponding to the rest of my hypothesis. Since this post won’t make much sense unless you’ve read the first one, and since this is also a monster-post, I’ll put the whole thing under the cut, except for this picture of a comatose hospitalized Sherlock in TLD:

Disclaimer: If you feel the subject matter upsetting, please don’t read further - take care and stay safe! I also want to state that no matter what happens in S4 - like nurse Cornish said in TLD, I’m fully convinced Sherlock will survive this. He will pull through and solve The Final Problem - staying alive.

Prediction #2: It will be possible to deduce from events in the show that Sherlock might have harmed himself, and even overdosed.

Observations: There are some scenes - mostly in TAB and TLD - which indicate that Sherlock’s state of health might indeed be self-inflicted (at least on the surface). The most obvious ones, in my opinion, are:

1. Sherlock’s OD in the airplane scenes in TAB is treated like a fact, but people aren’t acting accordingly. The case is complete with backstory from Mycroft, Dr Watson saying this cocktail of drugs could kill Sherlock...

...and assassin nurse ‘Mary’ suggesting he should be in hospital. And we know from TBB that John has specialist skills in being “able to recognize and give immediate and appropriate treatment to a wide range of medical and surgical conditions including --- poisoning/overdose” (among other things), because this is explicitly stated in his CV. It’s also obvious in this scene that Sherlock has administered the drugs on himself.

But the obviously logical procedure after his OD - taking Sherlock to hospital to try to restore his body functions and maybe save his life - does not happen; no-one disputes Sherlock’s decision to not receive medical treatment. So here we have a person who might just have tried to take his own life with a potentially lethal dose of drugs, but Dr Watson doesn’t even examine him. It’s glossed over as if nothing serious has happened, and no-one reacts properly to it; Sherlock himself acts as if he’s already miraculously recovered, and the others just let him carry on. This is not realistic, it’s not how an overdosed person possibly could behave. Which indicates that this is all taking place inside Sherlock’s brain; it’s Sherlock who wants to gloss over the serious consequences, even though he feels ashamed. Conclusion: the emphasis at Sherlocks OD as such might mean it’s true, but the timeline might be warped and the reactions following the OD twisted because of Sherlock’s drug-induced state.

2. In S4 there are references to self-harm marks on both Faith’s and Sherlock’s arms. The scenes in TLD where Sherlock talks to Faith about self-harm, deducing that her relationship had ended, that she wasn’t ‘getting any’, that she must have scars of self-harm on her left underarm and that her ‘boyfriend’ didn’t notice, are very telling:

But if ‘Faith’ was actually Euros, what was her purpose of first making Sherlock think she was suicidal and then just disappear? I see it as more likely that this is all about Sherlock processing his own relationship with John. Sherlock might have been sexually frustrated for a long time, because nothing ever happened between them. But at the same time Sherlock wasn’t really in touch with his feelings and basically horrified to ever talk about it with John (greenhouse scene in TAB is testimony). It’s possible that Sherlock had started using again when John had decided to get married (like he did in canon) and had scars of the syringe on his left underarm, but John didn’t notice this, because he wasn’t there. ‘Self-harm’ in this case equals drug use.

3. Nurse Cornish tells John in TLD that Sherlock has ‘made a mess of himself’, when what we actually saw was John assaulting him.

But why would the nurse in charge blame the victim in front of the perpetrator? And why all this glossing over the fact that John Watson attacked and beat up his friend to the point of hospitalizing him? Sounds very much like Sherlock’s guilt to me, like he’s actually processing the consequences of what he’s done to himself (his OD) in his Extended Mind Palace.

It also seems like Sherlock is re-hashing things in his EMP, because we already have a scene from the very first episode, where someone accuses Sherlock of having ‘made a mess’:

4. In TFP we learn that Euros cut herself when she was a kid “to see how my muscles worked”. The parents thought it was a suicide attempt. But little Euros is standing here between them, as if the case was being analyzed in Sherlock’s Mind Palace.

So what if Euros is actually a part of Sherlock himself? If S4 all happens inside Sherlock’s head, this could very well be the case. Which means that Sherlock might have been the one to harm himself as a kid.

5. As I’ve tried to show in this meta, suicide is one of the major themes in this show. It has been referred to or implied so many times, rubbed in so thoroughly, that it’s rather upsetting. This is a very serious topic, and I doubt the show-makers intend to treat it lightly. I’d rather believe they want to catch our attention with it, to contemplate the dire consequences to other people of Sherlock’s OD. Just like I think Sherlock himself does in TLD, when he warns ‘Faith’...

...and throws her gun in the Thames...

...and argues the point:

6. And then there’s ACD canon. Before Holmes ’falls’ with Moriarty in the Reichenbach Fall (The Final Problem) he leaves a note to Watson (= a classic reference to suicide). It’s believed that Doyle’s intention was to let him die and end the story with Watson living an ordinary life with his wife and only nostalgic memories left from his time with Holmes. But the fans protested and insisted for years until ACD ‘resurrected’ Holmes and published new stories. So if ACD almost ‘killed off’ this great character in canon, wouldn’t it be rather canon compliant of Mofftiss to almost do the same thing? One of the canon stories is also named ‘The Dying Detective’, but in BBC Sherlock they’ve changed the name to ‘The Lying Detective’ - maybe in order to not make it too obvious?

7. On a meta level, would there be any reasons for the character of Sherlock Holmes to try to commit suicide? Well, yes; I think there are plenty of hints that there might be. And I believe @tjlcisthenewsexy puts the finger exactly on those reasons in this excellent meta (my bolding): “If a person takes their own life due to depression directly caused by a heterocentric culture and institutionalized homophobia, then is it really suicide? Or is it murder?” I think this issue was raised by Sherlock already in the first episode, albeit in a slightly less obvious way; the victims of the serial killer were persuaded to take their own life when the killer put pressure on them.

Same thing basically happened in TRF, when Moriarty pressured Sherlock to jump. And in HLV when Lord Smallwood committed suicide after CAM (=Media as a villain) put pressure on him with blackmail. But the real culprit isn’t the victim; it’s society’s norms and attitudes that pressure them. The issue of homophobia isn’t of course openly addressed in BBC Sherlock, but I think it’s heavily implied for us to read between the lines.

Prediction #3: There will be abundant references to Sherlock’s drugs use, since this is the proximate cause of his state and therefore constantly on his mind.

Why do we see an IV drip with morphine in HLV? Well, this is the episode where Sherlock gets shot in the chest, so naturally he needs morphine as painkiller… But wait a minute; wouldn’t his brother have informed the hospital staff of the risks of giving Sherlock morphine, seeing as he’s a drug addict? And then there’s Janine’s comment:

Observations: There are several drug-related things in HLV that don’t really make sense.

Firstly, after knowing him for merely a month, Janine seems to be very much aware of Sherlock’s drug dependence. But if she is already this knowledgeable, why did he have to tell her that he had been ‘working’ when he had actually been sleeping in a drug den (and she seemed to buy it)? But if she didn’t know about the drugs, who had suddenly told her now?

Secondly, for some odd reason, Sherlock’s drug use seems to be a far bigger issue than his shot wound. A gun is used three times in HLV (twice on a human). But there’s a whole bunch of different drug use references, most of which have to do with Sherlock: a) Isaac Whitney, b) Sherlock found in a drug den, c) Sherlock’s blood tested for drugs at Barts, d) Mycroft gathering Sherlock’s ‘fans’ to search 221B for drugs, e) “Don’t appall me when I’m high”, f) IV morphine drip, h) Janine’s comment about drugs being Sherlock’s dream, i) CAM ‘reading’ opium and morphine as pressure points for Sherlock, j) Mrs Hudson ‘running a drug cartel’ and k) Sherlock having Billy drug his whole family. So there are far more references to drug use than to Sherlock almost dying from a gun shot, which is glossed over; no-one seems to really care about his shot wound or chest pain until he falls apart. Mrs Hudson doesn’t seem overly worried when she learns Sherlock has escaped from the hospital. John - his doctor friend - even yells at him to shut up, and threatens to kill him, when he’s supposedly already dying for the second time:

And Sherlock himself starts to talk about ‘surgery’ and the murderer calling the ambulance and other pieces of absurd, illogical nonsense to gloss over the shot wound, which is now threatening his life again. While at the same time claiming that his drug abuse is actually real; he only solves crimes as a substitute for being high...

At Christmas in HLV Sherlock’s own parents are fussing more over pregnant ‘Mary’ than over their own shot-wounded son. He’s fresh home from months in hospital but doesn’t even move strangely. In hospital he had only a plaster over the shot wound, no bruising visible. This is not realistic in my opinion; if Sherlock was really shot wounded, he wouldn’t have been able to escape by the hospital window in the first place. How did he manage to bring the wheelchair with him, by the way, complete with attached IV-drip of morphine?

The idea of Sherlock risking his life again; all this mystic, dangerous and elaborated scheme to track down ‘Mary’ and confront her with her crime - and for what? Only to then dismiss the shooting as ‘surgery’ that ‘saved his life’ in order to persuade John to stay with her? It’s just not credible; this is more reminiscent of an action movie (Bond?) derailing into absurdity. I think what all these signs tell us is that Sherlock’s real problem isn’t the supposed shot wound; it’s a drug-related problem.

So, now that we’ve established at least the possibility of Sherlock having OD:d on drugs and ended up in coma as a result, we arrive to the point of determining more precisely when it happened.

Prediction #4: If Sherlock falls into coma, there would be a credibility change/difference between ‘before’ and ‘after’ the OD.

Now this is a hard one, because in BBC Sherlock there’s generally a very subtle line between ‘reality’ and ‘imagination’. There are a series of weird events in the whole show that I find it hard to believe in, and many of them happen before HLV…

Irene’s mystic break-ins into 221B which no-one had noticed (ASiB)

Sherlock being visited by Moriarty at 221B after the trial in TRF, before even John got there

Sherlock having a conversation with Moriarty on the rooftop in TRF (how did Sherlock predict that Jim would have him jump off a rooftop in particular and therefore made his arrangement of faked death based on this?)

Anderson’s sudden metamorphosis into being Sherlock’s fan-club (MHR)

Torture scene in Serbia and Mycroft’s cruel behaviour there (TEH)

Soldiers who don’t feel when they’re being stabbed in the back in TSoT. (This is such a crazy idea, and the given explanation we have is hard to believe)

These things are weird and not very realistic, but at least they might contain a grain of truth somewhere, albeit dramatized. But in HLV and onwards it does get far worse, in my opinion, when people start acting way out of character or doing absurd or outright impossible things. These could be signs that the events from HLV and onwards are fabricated by Sherlock’s brain, rather than representing ‘real’ things that have actually happened.

Out of character As for acting OOC, I think John’s behaviour has some ups and downs in the show, but in HLV he gets abominable to a point of no return; the idea that he would stay together with ‘Mary’ after she shot his best friend is highly unbelievable - pregnancy or not (in fact it’s even less believable that John would find an assassin, who should be in prison and who attempted to kill his friend, fit to raise their child). And the top of the mountain then comes in TLD, when John assaults Sherlock and acts as if it’s all Sherlock’s own fault. No credibility left.

But I’d still say that it’s an even bigger OOC development to have the world’s most famous detective stop solving crimes and start committing them instead.

Because as far as I can see, crime solving ends with TSoT; after that, Sherlock doesn't solve a single crime case that hasn't directly to do with his own private life: • He fails to solve lady Smallwood’s blackmail case, which instead ends with lord Smallwood's suicide.

• He fails to capture CAM, the criminal who caused this; instead he murders him. The famous crime solver is now a criminal instead. • He fails to solve Emilia Ricolettis case in his own mind; the person he thought was guilty turns out to be Moriarty instead - who is supposed to be dead. • He fails to solve the mystery of why Moriarty's ‘Miss me?’ video is on every screen in the country, which was supposedly the reason for bringing him back to London. • He fails to save a single one of the Thatcher busts from destruction and why would he want to do that anyway; he even smashes the last one himself! • He fails to find the stolen Black pearl of the Borgias; instead he finds the AGRA stick from Mary's assassin gang. • In a highly doubtable deduction sequence without any kind of evidence, Sherlock decides that Charlie Wellsborough's death is no crime at all; he just had an unfortunately badly timed “seizure” in an extremely weird situation. • He fails to solve the Norbury case, which would exonerate ‘Mary’ from accusations of treason; instead ‘Mary’ dies in a most incredible and over-dramatized way which is physically impossible. • He tries to prove that Culverton Smith is a serial killer, but the only thing he manages to prove is that Smith can try to kill him, Sherlock, on his own request. Supposedly, Smith 'can't stop confessing' after that, but we never get to see or know any of these confessions. • The rest of the show (TFP) is exclusively about Sherlock's own family problems. The only 'outsider' crime cases he tries to solve - his sister's death threats against Sherrinford's governor with wife and the three Garrideb brothers - are complete failures; they all die. He believes he saves Molly's life by forcing her to confess that she loves him, but Euros tells him there was never any danger. Failure again. This is rather far away from canon, where Holmes kept solving crimes even after retirement, isn’t it?

But in this show, after TSoT, there’s only one thing that the genius detective manages to do right: he saves John Watson from the bottom of a well. By solving a puzzle.

So yes - I think these things show a huge difference in credibility between 'before' and 'after' TSoT; the world's most famous detective has stopped solving crimes! (But what about all the cases that were supposedly solved by Sherlock 'spinning plates' in TST, you might ask? Not to worry, I'll get back to that later ;))

As for HLV, I think this is the episode where things start getting completely out of control for Sherlock, indicating that he is actually no longer conscious. Which would mean he doesn’t experience new events in the show’s reality, but his brain keeps re-hashing memories, combining them in new ways to solve Sherlock’s personal problems. Apart from the OOC arguments explained above, I tried to point out a series of others in this meta, connected to Janine’s character. We haven’t seen much of her, but in HLV she appears to be a person with less than average intelligence, which I think she didn’t in TSoT:

Why would Janine risk her employment to let Sherlock sneak into her boss’ high security office at night when she knew he was there?

Why would Janine believe that Sherlock would propose to her after they had known each other for a month and he had just left her waiting for him the whole night in his flat without knowing where he was?

If Janine and Sherlock haven’t had sex (because of his reluctance), how come she all confidently just gets into the shower with him?

How can Janine miss out on all the mayhem at 221B - a ‘drugs bust’ with several people present, Mycroft being slammed into the wall, Sherlock talking about her boss as a monster, etc.?

Janine just doesn’t behave in a logical manner in HLV. It. Doesn’t. Make.Sense.

Impossible The first outright impossible thing I can spot, is ‘Mary’ getting into CAM’s office faster than Sherlock. Sherlock makes a whole lot of effort explaining to John that the only way to get into CAM’s office is by his private lift, and just how difficult that is.

Anyone who tried to climb up wouldn’t just need the agility of a circus artist like the ‘spider’ in TBB; they would have to climb the façade, break into the flat and knock two people down in basically no time. I think we can safely say that it’s physically impossible to climb a building of 32 floors and manage all that in less than 45 seconds (which is the time it takes for Sherlock and John to go up with the lift after Janine has let Sherlock in).

Some people may want to talk about ‘artistic license’ here, and claim that this is just entertainment, this is just the show makers twisting reality a bit to make their show more exciting. But don’t forget the major weakness of this argument: if we excuse one clearly impossible thing with ‘artistic license’, then we must be prepared to excuse all of them the same way. Which means that the whole rational basis of Sherlock Holmes’ own methods in this show becomes invalid, because then there are no deductions to be made, since nature laws and reality as we know it don’t exist ‘in-show’. Which could very well be the case, as I see it, if nothing in this show is meant to make sense - or if there’s still a coherent plot-line somewhere, but the events we do see are mainly taking place inside Sherlock’s head. But my idea here was still to try to pinpoint a change, a difference in levels of weirdness, between ‘before’ and ‘after’ Sherlock’s presumed OD.

Prediction #5: There will be time- and place-references that coincide with a possible OD directly after TSoT

If Sherlock would take to kill himself, where would it happen, when and how?

Well, I think Sherlock already explains it to Lestrade in this ‘script’ from ASiP published on BBC’s website, where we get this (supposedly) cut out scene:

In other words: Sherlock would kill himself, but in a different time and place, presumably a) after leaving a note and b) after some ‘prior sign’s. And c) he’d do it in a familiar place that means something to him. So, to track down the point in time when Sherlock might have done this, we need to determine a) when he has left some kind of note and b) what ‘prior signs’ that could have preceded this.

Observations

Point in time: As for a), in TAB, after realising that Sherlock has OD:d, we learn that he has made a list of all the drugs that he’s taken; a promise to his brother since years ago. That’s a kind of note – isn’t it? A note that could help saving his life after an overdose.

But there are also hints that TAB isn’t the real time of the OD event:

JOHN: He couldn’t have taken all of that in the last five minutes. MYCROFT: He was high before he got on the plane. MARY: He didn’t seem high. MYCROFT: Nobody deceives like an addict.

But wait; could Sherlock really have overdosed on drugs and after that performed the whole scene at the tarmac? Where he says goodbye to John, jokes with him and makes a whole little coherent speech about the Game and the East Wind? Not very likely for a person who has OD:d if you ask me…

And then there’s also the fact I pointed out in my last meta (X); that Mycroft talks about this OD coming after a ‘week in solitary confinement’ when Sherlock was locked up with his worst enemy - himself. I think this week could well be the time John was on ‘sex holiday’ after the wedding. If the shooting of CAM wasn’t real (which is supported by the easiness with which Sherlock gets away with murder without any kind of lasting consequence), neither has there been any imprisonment. I can rather imagine Sherlock isolating and locking himself in at 221B for a week, trying to alleviate his pain and heartbreak with drugs after John’s wedding.

Regarding the turn of events after a presumed OD which we don’t actually see, @sagestreet has made a whole reconstruction of how the things could possibly have happened in one of the additions to this meta (please scroll down to the subtitle “TIMELINE FOR A POSSIBLE OD-AFTER-THE-WEDDING SCENARIO”.

There’s also a note playing a central role in TLD, and I’ve tried to elaborate on this in these two metas: (X, X). The episode TLD seems to take place long after John’s wedding, when he already has a daughter. But what if this is actually not the case? What if the whole of TLD just represents Sherlock’s brain going through events that actually happened immediately after the wedding? (Or even immediately after his faked suicide, in some cases)?

Geographic place: The whole sequence in TLD about Sherlock isolating himself in 221B, resorting to an intensive drug abuse that is basically killing him, could be showing what really happened with him directly after the wedding. John has (supposedly) abandoned him (honeymoon?) and he’s turning nuts, talking to himself (Billy Wiggins), shooting the walls and playing out a Shakespeare drama all by himself.

221B would also fit with c), ‘a familiar place that means something’ to Sherlock. The events might in fact be showing some kind of reality, perhaps it’s just the time of them that is twisted and misplaced. Which would seem likely, if this is Sherlock processing his distorted memories of those events inside his still drug-addled brain. On the other hand, the prison where he allegedly would have taken the drugs and got high, before meeting up at the tarmac to board the airplane; none of these places would have the slightest personal meaning to Sherlock, would they? So where exactly is he more likely to take an overdose according to the deleted scene manuscript; in prison or in 221B? I think the answer here is clear.

Prior signs: Regarding b), I’ve already talked about the signs of self-harm in TLD that John doesn’t seem to either notice or acknowledge. The drug abuse is one clear sign of self-harm, but there’s also more subtle things, like Sherlock basically abandoning his job (which he was supposedly ‘married to’) to take over John’s wedding planning; something he would normally find mundane and probably despise. He even tells John’s and Mary’s wedding guests in his speech how utterly useless the ‘wedding tradition’ is. So why does Sherlock even do this? John and Mary would be fully capable of planning their own wedding, wouldn’t they? I think it’s a form of self-harm, self-punishment or maybe even self-imposed martyrdom - “a cross I have to bear” as he tells John, referring to his ‘ordinary’ parents.

The ‘delayed backstabbing’ in TSoT also makes for a dramatic metaphor about what happens to Sherlock; if he’s the un-seen murder victim of this wedding, the effect of it doesn’t play out until afterwards, when he’s left to his own gloomy thoughts and feelings of abandonment in 221B. Which would mean the delayed back-stabbing was a prior sign to Sherlock’s later ‘bleed-out’.

It’s also interesting to speculate about exactly when this actual back-stabbing took place. We never get to see the wedding act in TSoT, but we do see the moment when it dawns upon Sherlock that Mary is pregnant. I think Sherlock’s realization of her pregnancy is the last nail in the coffin; that's what ultimately breaks his heart. It’s not until after this moment that Sherlock leaves the party; a marriage can be dissolved, but a child is a child and it will always be John’s responsibility. Which basically means the definite end of their crime-solving life together...

But I think the most important piece of evidence about the time of Sherlock’s possible suicide attempt taking place immediately after John’s wedding is this:

John’s blog stops updating at this point. The blog also took a pause after TRF, but the current gap is definitely the longest. All this time we’ve had John’s blog as a more ‘sober’ account of the events; a ‘second opinion’, if you like, to what I believe the show is: Sherlock’s more colourful and dramatic tale of their life together. Sherlock hacks the blog and posts one last instalment before the blog dies completely. I believe this last post can be seen as Sherlock’s ‘note’, which I’ve tried to explain in these two metas X , X.

But what about the blog cases of S4? In TST we see a lot of cases listed by John’s supposed blogging; so many in fact that John tells Sherlock that he can’t go on ‘spinning plates’. Yes, it sounds promising, but since a) John is typing on a jpg-file (which is technically impossible, unless you convert it to or integrate it in another format),

and b) there are no references on the real blog to these new ‘cases’, I’d say that none of these cases are realistic. Which probably means they are fabricated by Sherlock’s brain - some of them are even rip-offs from old cases, like The Six Thatchers.

Last but not least: on a meta level, is there a certain significance to TSoT as an episode that makes it a good time reference for being the point after which Sherlock passes to a comatose state? This analysis isn’t mainly intended to reflect a meta level of the show, it rather focuses on the textual level. That doesn’t mean, however, that I find the meta level unimportant. There are quite a few tumblr analysts that have expanded on the form and shape of this show; its ‘messages’, arguments and conclusions on a meta level. For example, @garkgatiss has published several very thorough analyses of the overall pattern of BBC Sherlock as a five-act drama. In the latest one, dedicated to analyzing Bond and Hannibal references, @garkgatiss points out this about the symmetry pattern of S3 (my bolding):

“S3 doesn’t follow the same Bond/Hannibal triad structure as S2 and S4, and we shouldn’t expect it to. Nevertheless, we still find Bond and Hannibal in TEH and HLV — TEH ‘revives’ the myth of Sherlock Holmes that was destroyed in TRF when Sherlock returns from being dead and proves he was not a fraud after all, and HLV gives Sherlock the Clarice Starling creation myth, as befits the true hero of the story. TSOT, as the overall midpoint of the show, serves its own distinct function in the story that I plan to cover in full at some point, but not here”.

So, TSoT represents the midpoint of the story. It’s also the point after which, I believe, Sherlock enters his comatose state and resorts to pure speculation about the future. Or, should I rather say, he resorts to modeling the emotionally devastating consequences of his own choices, in a series of worst-case scenarios, which are basically S4, but start already in HLV. Which would mean yet another indication of the story arc being symmetric, with the figurative ‘murder case’ in the middle; Sherlock’s heart breaks when John not only marries ‘Mary Morstan’, but even starts a family with her. Because Sherlock’s discovery in TSoT of ‘Mary’s pregnancy will (in Sherlock’s mind) most certainly mean that John’s days as a companion to Sherlock’s crime solving are counted. A responsible father wouldn’t run around risking his life on a daily basis, would he? So yes - to me TSoT undoubtedly marks a midpoint in this story.

So, to sum it up once again: my belief is that this show is totally happening within Sherlock’s head, from his PoV. But there’s a distinction between what happens before TSoT and after; in the former case Sherlock voluntarily goes through his memories with John, based on reading his blog. In the latter, I think Sherlock’s body is in coma due to an OD, but his mind is racing, thus the extra weirdness.

Summary

In brief, I think Sherlock Holmes has some serious stuff that he needs to deal with, and so has John Watson, even if maybe Sherlock’s issues are the worst. And in S4 Shelock does; he goes from being someone who constantly tries to detach his brain from its inconvenient ‘transport’ of a body, to someone who ultimately allows himself to care deeply and truly. And I believe that’s basically what this show is about: the long and winding road to freedom, the mental journey home to 221B. And on this inner journey, he has to go through hell, which means pain, heartbreak and loss, but also insight and realization. But since this is also the story of a truly brilliant and remarkable human being and his only ’feature of interest’; an extremely competent, brave and loyal person, there’s good hope that they can actually help each other. They just need to overcome their worst adversaries first; their own internalized heteronormativity and homophobia, imposed on them by society.

I think one of the most interesting things with Sherlock’s process is to see that it’s actually his brain that saves him. While Sherlock’s intense emotions lead him to desperate actions that cause a comatose state in his body, his brain still refuses to give up, because it needs to understand. Which - seemingly paradoxically - leads him to seek contact with his own feelings and thereby solve the problem - the final problem. This character development is indeed extraordinary.

Phew! I’m truly grateful for those of you who might have managed to read through these two monster posts. :) The next installment of this meta series - which will hopefully be a bit shorter - will handle Hypothesis #5: Almost everything we see happen in HLV, TAB and S4 is Sherlock ‘running scenarios’ in his mind, based on a mix of his earlier memories and movies he has watched.

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @fellshish @sagestreet @tendergingergirl @loveismyrevolution @sherlockshadow @darlingtonsubstitution @tjlcisthenewsexy @devoursjohnlock @kateis-cakeis @csi-baker-street-babes @sectoralheterochromiairidum @mrskolesouniverse

#sherlock is in coma #sherlock's od #emp theory #heartbreak and coma

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