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nicklloydnow · 1 month

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“Yet beyond content, there was always the faintly snobbish suggestion that if a book had to be good to be ‘literature’, then it had to be intellectually worthless to be downgraded to the zone of cheap ‘thrillers’, fit only for producing cheap thrills. Ten minutes reading such books usually proves such snobbery right, and we are reminded of Graham Greene’s famous division of his own works into ‘novels’ and ‘entertainments’. Yet good things can be found in unexpected places, and a particular series of books that are typically found in the ‘thriller’ section, when they are found at all, are on closer examination one of the great fairytales of our time, hinging on their creation of our great fairytale monster: Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon, The Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal. The monster? Hannibal Lecter, M. D.

(…) Yet it is here that the trilogy radically diverges from the established ‘thriller’ formula—Lecter isn’t the hero, but he isn’t the most obvious villain either, and indeed he at least appears to help speed justice along with his psychiatric profiling skills. This is the first step in elevating Harris’s trilogy—as well as Lecter’s character, who with his positions as an archival researcher in Florence and on the board of the Baltimore Philharmonic must make him one of the only fictional serial killers for whom killing isn’t their main ambition in life. Meanwhile, we find that Harris has stylistic skill well beyond that of the average thriller writer—unlike most, he avoids the howling errors of grammar, syntax and decency that give the modern genre such a bad name, and more importantly allows the prose to hold value in its own right, rather than simply as an inconvenient means for getting a cheaply pulse-raising plot across as quickly as possible. Especially with the middle book of the trilogy, it’s obvious to an alert reader that they are dealing with something far more eloquent and profound than a typical thriller.

(…)

Across the series, the spiritual unfulfillment and grubby reality of late-twentieth century Beltway America—the world of Watergate—is portrayed with a constant dark sense of humour and an inventive eye for detail, with both the author and Lecter’s distaste for modern American life (one of many parallels between Harris and Vladimir Nabokov) something of a running joke.

Split city is a bleak place the wind blows through. Like the Sunday divorce flight from La Guardia to Juarez, it is a service industry to the mindless Brownian movement in our population.

Aside from the surprising quality of the writing, a good barometer is the attitude of the books to death. As Elvis Costello knew, there’s something distinctly chic and even sexy about fictional detective work (‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take/She’s filing her nails while they’re dragging the lake…’). Yet unlike most thrillers or their ‘film noir’ predecessors, Harris never trivialises death as a colourful accessory to a ‘penny dreadful’ storyline but treats it with the maturity one would expect from a serious novel. We are given heart wrenching descriptions of the psychological damage Graham, the protagonist of the first novel, has suffered from his FBI career, and of the tragic futility of more mundane, realistic demise as Crawford’s wife wastes away from cancer. As the Doctor himself says, in an updated yet essentially repeated version of that old theological conundrum, famously described by David Hume as the ‘problem of evil’:

“I collect church collapses, recreationally. Did you see the recent one in Sicily? Marvellous! The facade fell on sixty-five grandmothers at a special mass. Was that evil? If so, who did it? If he’s up there, he just loves it, Officer Starling. Typhoid and swans—it all comes from the same place.”

Religion, which along with class is one of the trilogy’s unexpected yet most salient themes, is thus expressed in a distinctly twentieth-century, post-War way: a refusal to square the idea of a benevolent God with the horrors of man, let alone the cosmic indifference of the universe. It can hardly escape our notice that Mason Verger, the hideously disfigured and utterly repulsive—indeed, probably excessively so—antagonist in the third novel, murmurs to Starling of the wonders of Christian forgiveness, even as he boasts of his predation on the innocent. The contrast could hardly be stronger with the insistently religious morality in other generation-defining works of horror: see Marlowe’s Faustus, with the titular character dragged to hell as his guardian angel laments his renouncement of God, or Stoker’s Dracula, in which the naive Englishman Jonathan Harker foolishly scorns offers of crucifixes from the local peasantry and finds himself defenceless against the vampiric Count. (…)

Indeed, the appropriately chilling ‘Chiltern’ is a good example of how Harris has an almost Dickensian ability to play with names: most obviously we have ‘Starling’, with avian connotations of weakness and vulnerability, yet also shrewdness and subtlety (‘I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze/I cannot get out, said the starling’, writes Nabokov’s most famous protagonist). ‘Dolorhyde’ gives us ‘dolorous’ (latin dolor) and ‘formaldehyde’, along with ‘-hyde’’s resonance with Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 Jekyll and Hyde, also about transformative evil. Then we have Krendler, almost onomatopoeically impling ‘rake’, ‘rend’ or perhaps Grendel. ‘Hannibal’ gives us Hannibal Barca, the terror of the Roman Republic, and the obvious rhyme with ‘cannibal’, providing a ready-made nickname for Harris’s sleazy journalists to use. Most interestingly, ‘Lecter’ (which Harris smartly chooses over the more blatant ‘Lektor’) gives ‘leer’ and ‘spectre’, but also ‘lecture’/’lectern’/’proctor’ (Latin lector), hinting at how the doctor’s main role in the series is not as a killer, but as a teacher.

(…)

One of the trilogy’s other themes is therefore perhaps that of ‘contrast’. At first glance, it seems to be everywhere. Graham’s heroic desire to protect families contrasts with the depredations of the ‘Tooth Fairy’. The grubby, seamy brutality of ‘Buffalo Bill’ contrasts with Lecter’s immaculate appearance and mannerisms, as well as the depth of his psychiatric ability. The youthful, idealistic energy of Starling contrasts with the horror into which she descends to preserve life—quite literally, with her headlong plunges into Bill’s lair, Verger’s pig farm, drug-ravaged D.C. gangland (another nod to contemporary sociopolitics, this time the corruption and hypocrisy at the heart of the war on drugs) and of course the Baltimore asylum. As metaphorised by her childhood trauma of trying to save screaming lambs from the slaughter, brought out in one of her interviews with Lecter, she exists as a desperate and determined hero. Yet on closer examination, the trilogy is actually far less Manichean than any thriller, with clearly identifiable ‘good’ and ‘bad guys’. Lecter is at once a supremely cultured intellectual, with even his imprisoned life spent publishing academic papers and sketching Florentine skylines, and a killer whose predilection is the most savage, animalistic act imaginable, as famously discussed in Michael de Montaigne’s 16th century essay ‘des Cannibales’, and as provided an anagrammatic name for Shakespeare’s ‘Caliban’. (When writing this essay I was asked by a friend if I thought the novels would work as well as they do if Lecter were ‘just’ a serial killer. I’m not sure they would). The contrast between this and the Doctor’s refined sensibilities is of course famously summarised in the superb line about liver and Chianti—though in the book, he prefers the grander Amarone. This blend of mirth, high culture, whimsical brutality and a labyrinthine battle of wits is a potent and enthralling mix indeed, which only needed Hopkins’ expression—or, for that matter, Brian Cox’s—to become iconic. Like Shakespeare’s Gloucester, Lecter can ‘smile, and murder whiles I smile’—though a more apt quote would be (amusingly) from Ignatius Loyola in Middleton’s A Game at Chess, who like Lecter, can ‘with my refin’d nostrils taste the footsteps’ of the souls around him. We have the masterfully choreographed escape scene in the Tennessee jailhouse, juxtaposing Lecter’s sadistic, animalistic mutilation of his guards with his polite mannerisms before (‘ready when you are, Sergeant Pembury…’) and after, his bloodstained hands gently moving to the strains of Goldberg’s Bach Variations. More levels of apparent contradiction are present: his jailer, a supposed ‘good guy’, is the sexist, self-serving and incompetent Chiltern, while the FBI are often misogynist creeps bathing in nepotism and mediocrity. In the third novel the true villain is Verger, himself one of the doctor’s victims, while Starling battles not a serial killer but the corrupt, self-serving Bureau hierarchy and the haughty, predatory Department of Justice attorney Paul Krendler, who with his Ivy League sweater and slick Capitol Hill mannerisms embodies the patrician disdain of the American upper classes in a way that faintly reminds us of Gatsby’s Tom Buchanan or Catch-22’s Captain Aardvark. (‘I’m going to Congress’, he groggily boasts to Starling as he propositions her across Lecter’s dinner table.) Indeed, Hans Zimmer saw his wonderful and very underrated score to the film, all dark, rumbling cellos and strains of opera, as written as much about ‘corruption in the American police force’ as ‘a Freudian archetypal beauty and the beast fairy tale’. This links heavily with the theme of class: Starling’s ‘will to power’ is her desire to escape her working-class roots and achieve something more in D.C.

(…)

Yet the reality that Starling reaches the corridors of American federal power to find them stricken by corruption and closed to people like her serves only to make her—and us—more drawn to Lecter, who for all his monstrosities is by far the warmest, most courteous character of the series, albeit perhaps excluding Starling herself. The best indication that this series is far superior to traditional detective ‘thrillers’ is that the world it creates is, as Demme’s brooding cinematography in Silence of the Lambs and Zimmer’s score to the sequel show, not a traditional detective tale at all, but a story for our own, less certain times, a swirling mass of human struggles against adversity and the darkness of the mind.

(…)

As the sardonic Porfiry says in Crime and Punishment, ‘this is a murky, fantastic case, a contemporary one, an incident that belongs to our own age...in which the heart of man has grown dark and muddied’—and the actual plot is merely a part of Harris’ panoramic American vista. But through it all remains Starling as the hero of the story, striving through the horror around her and the corruption above her to save life. Together, the novels are thus reminiscent as much of Dante’s descent into the underworld as Grimm’s fairy tales. As her adversary, teacher, terror and guardian angel stands Lecter, less a ‘movie villain’, still less a human in any recognisable fashion, and more a fairytale monster:

“Is it true what they’re saying, that he’s some kind of vampire?”

“They don’t have a name for what he is”

Yet Harris makes his setting distinctly modern, despite all of the rich symbology of Blake and Dante (‘I forget your generation doesn’t read’, Lecter sneers to Starling in response to her ignorance of Marcus Aurelius, at once a social comment and a generational one). Like Dracula (also a vampiric Eastern European aristocrat) Lecter is a vision of medieval darkness loosed on the modern, western world of the novel: he may stalk patrician Baltimore and nocturnal Florence, but the FBI’s investigations are conducted by fax machine and helicopter, and Starling’s tracking down of Lecter to Italy in the third book must make the Doctor the first great villain to have been located with the help of the internet. Indeed, in contrast to the woods, castles and caves that play host to more traditional gothic monsters (those of Lovecraft or Poe, for example), Lecter and Starling’s saga is written onto a backdrop of dark modernity, with the films’ tremendous cinematography capturing the oppressive stone and brutalist concrete of the FBI’s headquarters with as much aplomb as the decaying towns haunted by Dolorhyde and Gumb, or the Appalachian trauma in Starling’s own subconscious.

(…)

Of course, what really matters in any fairytale is how it ends, and here I think we can really get to the heart of what makes these novels so good. In this regard, the key theme is transformation. This is established early on: the behavioural analysts of the FBI attempt to understand what transforms a human into a manhunter and unravel Dolorhyde’s fantasies of transformation into the demonic Red Dragon as the end-point of his childhood trauma. In Silence, the transformation of ‘Buffalo Bill’ is mirrored in his fascination with moths emerging from their chrysalis. That being said, I believe Harris should never have elaborated on Lecter’s early life—he appears more unearthly and far more unsettling if he simply is, without an explanation of how he came to be—that ultimately will always be more mundane than no explanation at all. Yet to return to the point, the great transformation of the series is that undergone by Starling herself. She comes to Lecter as a student, both literally and metaphorically, and his role is not that of an antagonist, but of a teacher. In this regard, the old commonplace that film adaptations are worse than the original book is actually true in reverse, because—and if you haven’t seen it, please stop reading here—the film adaptation of Hannibal upholds Starling’s heroism, having her attempt to arrest Lecter instead of eloping with him, as she does in the somewhat flippant book ending. Perhaps that ending has merit—Lecter’s hypnosis of Starling would seem to be the logical conclusion of Harris’ satirisation of psychiatry and poses interesting questions about the borders between love and revenge, right and wrong, pharmacological drugs and biological hormones which are worth thinking about, but I maintain that the more traditionally ‘good’ resolution of Starling’s story is superior. The reason why the trilogy’s film ending works so much better as a fairytale is because as Chesterton famously said, fairytales may bring monsters to life, but they also bring to life the heroes that fight them. Fittingly, in the film’s conclusion, Starling’s journey into heroism is vocalised by the monster with whom she has become inexorably tied:

“Would they have you back, do you think? The FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, Clarice, do you think? Would you have it professionally framed and hang it on your wall to look at and remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror.”

It is in this moment that we realise—just in case we haven’t already—that their story is one of terror, but also one of a strangely moving beauty, and Lecter’s subsequent escape into Ridley Scott’s firework-strewn night preserves the best aspects of a fairytale: the mystery, and the magic. He has lived to kill another day, but the monster’s decision, unable to hurt Starling, to cut off his own hand rather than hers to get free of her handcuffs implies that he may have transformed her during their time together, but maybe, just maybe, she transformed him too.

Viewed in succession, as they must be, these aren’t simply ‘thrillers’. They’re a fairytale for the modern age, and it’s therefore fitting that their heart is inhabited by a very modern monster indeed. Their story conjures thrills, introspection, sorrow and joy in surprising measures, from Graham’s first, fateful call on Lecter’s opulent Baltimore study, to the gloriously melancholic sunset conclusion of the series, as time ticks inexorably on to the final dinner party and the tantalising end to this deeply amusing parable. It retains the power to leave us truly entranced, and against it, most so-called ‘thrillers’ appear juvenile and insipid. Chianti will never sound the same again.”

#Harris #thomas harris #hannibal #hannibal lecter #cannibal #red dragon #silence of the lambs #fairy tale #monster

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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Secrets ~ 1

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Bruh, other series are still going. At least one update a week for existing series in future, I promise! Probably more.

This was semi-inspired by The Princess Diaries but obviously we’re not going highschool.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You found it hard to focus on the lecture. You copied the slides without processing the words. You couldn’t tear your mind from the unusual stranger. The one who had slipped from the room not ten minutes earlier. The one no one else seemed to notice; even the professor as she outlined the fall of the Roman Empire.

You did because you were early every week. You sat in the same seat, pulled out your notebook and pen, and put your phone on silent. You’d worked too long to screw this up. Years of saving and scrounging just to pay the application fee, bursaries awarded for your volunteer work and nearly forgotten extracurriculars from high school.

So, you noticed. The man sat in the back row with not a possession before him. Silent, discerning, and to be frank, a bit too old for the student body. Even you, after several years away from academics, thought so. You used the reflection in your phone screen to watch him and when he stood and left without cause, you angled it after his departure.

Perhaps he had come to the wrong room. Or maybe he had got the wrong time. He could be an older student or a guest speaker. Whatever he was, he was gone and you needed to focus. You didn’t have much time outside of class to revise your notes. Between your job at the campus bookstore and your intern position at the museum, you didn’t have time for anything beyond a few hours sleep.

You packed up as the lecture came to an end. Tuesdays, Professor Halren went over the week’s material and Thursdays you had a class discussion on the assigned articles. Basic, simple, but at least eighty pages of reading a week. You climbed the steps between the rows of tables and passed through the upper doors. The east entrance down the rear stairwell was the quickest exit.

You tossed your bag in the passenger seat of your crummy used Honda, parked in front of the burger joint several blocks away from campus parking. It cost you more to park on-site than it did for the beat-up contraption itself.

You drove to the museum and got out, your lanyard around your neck denoting you as a volunteer. You usually worked the help desk or handed out pamphlets for upcoming tours. Most of the time it was quiet enough for you to study in between visitors.

Sheila was the curator on duty that night. She kept to her office, saying she trusted you to direct the rare patrons who arrived on a Tuesday night. As expected, it was dead. You wandered around with textbook in hand, occasionally looking up to check that you were alone.

There was a man by the chart of Greek gods and their relations. A spiderweb with no end. You closed your book and quietly set it down on the nearest bench as you kept an eye on the man. It was him, the one from the lecture hall. A frightening coincidence. He leaned closer to the diagram then turned away, walking, no marching along the wall and rounding the corner into the next section.

Your heart was beating; in confusion and fear. You followed, carefully not to let your shoes click as you did. As you reached the next corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. You continued on, around corner and corner, on and on, looking up and down the walkways. He was gone.

You came back to the bench where you left your textbook. You glanced around one last time and opened it. Behind the cover was a ribbon, a tricade of red, white, and blue, a star emblazoned three-quarters of the way up embroidered in gold and silver. You’d seen it before but none so new as this.

You held it up and felt it between your fingers. You closed the book again and tucked it under your arm. You went to the next wing; medieval history. You walked along the timeline of European kingdoms, below each was a display of royal families of each.

The same ribbon, aged and frayed, laid beneath the kingdom of Astrania, marked by the house of Rogers. A long storied bloodline thrust in and out of power by civil wars and politics well into the twentieth century. A country that stood still, one of the few who still lauded a monarch, as famous as the Windsors in England and beyond. The last vestiges of long lost era.

You shoved the ribbon in your pocket. It was likely a souvenir from some commodified tour of the country. A forgotten novelty sold for pennies and shoved into a used textbook. You shrugged and headed back to your usual spot among the ancient civilizations. Strange things happened. That was life.

👑

You spent your few hours before midnight writing up your rough draft for Life and Death in Ancient Greece then finally crashed. You slept on your back, uncomfortably; a heavy, exhausted sleep. You woke to voices. Your mother’s and another. One you didn’t know.

You checked the time, it was barely seven in the morning. You grumbled as you sat up. Your mother’s tone set you on edge as her voice rose. You stood and crossed to the door. You turned the handle slowly, listening through the crack of the door as you eased it open.

“You get out of my house.” She snarled. You’d never heard her sound so vicious. “I am not that person anymore. I never was.”

“You can hide behind a name,” The deep voice replied evenly. “It doesn’t change your real one.”

“My father is dead, his name died with him.” She hissed. “I won’t tell you again to leave.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll call the police, asshole.”

“I’ve been sent here under the banner of diplomacy, what are they gonna do?”

You stepped out as the argument continued, your mother growing angrier as you tiptoed down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed a frying pan from the dish rack as you stopped in the doorway and she waved it at the man standing on the other side of the table.

“I’ll just have to make you,” She warned. “Now go--”

“Mum,” You rubbed your eyes. “What’s going on?” You looked to the man as he turned to look at you. It was the same man from the day before. You recoiled and pressed yourself to the wall. “Who is that?”

“No one. He’s leaving.” She edged around the table and drew back the frying pan.

He didn’t move. She swung and he caught the pan as his palm deflected it away from his head. He wrenched it away from her and tossed it away.

“Sit down, your highness,” He glared at your mother as he clanked the pan against the table.

You frowned and looked at your mother. Her eyes glinted at you and she shook her head.

“You will not tell my daughter what to do,” She scowled. “Not in my house.”

“You can send me away now, but I’ll be back.” He looked around the kitchen. “Looks like you can afford a fine lawyer, indeed.”

“Lawyer?” Your mother spat.

“There’s a contract, Princess,” He sneered.

“There is no kingdom left. No crown, no throne.” Your mother neared and grabbed your wrist, drawing you to her. “My daughter does not belong to anyone.”

“Your own father signed the accord. We paid our dues, even after his fall, we expect you to fulfill your end of the contract.”

“My father is dead,” She pushed in front of you, shielding you from the man. His square jaw twitched and his blue eyes glimmered defiantly.

“As his heir, you would acquire his responsibility. She is his first born granddaughter.” The man asserted.

“She has no title.” Your mother insisted. “You can see we have no wealth, no holdings. We are displaced; we are common.”

“Princess Karissa of Ecklun,” The man addressed your mother, “Her daughter, Duchess of Brey. You needn’t land to uphold your titles… and your obligations.”

“The contract is old. Outdated.” Your mother countered. “There are other duchesses. Real ones.”

“The contract is legal still, it has been upheld to this point and there is no clause for annulment. Unless of course you have the funds to buy out the agreement.” He challenged. “Fifteen million, with interest.”

Your mother was silent. He hand squeezed your wrist.

“I never received any of these payments you claim to have made,” She said.

“In a trust, as stated in the contract, to be accessible upon the day of marriage.” He declared. “If you insist, however, I can return with my legal council… and a military escort.”

Your mother let out a long breath. She released you and shakily pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit,” She gestured you forward and drew another chair out. “I’ll entertain your… discussion.”

You stepped forward and sat and she did too. The man across from you lowered himself into another chair and set down his briefcase on the floor. He reached inside and drew out a bundle of papers. He slid them across to your mother.

“If you’d like to look over the terms,” He smirked. “You’ll see all is as I said.”

“He couldn’t find another bride?” She spat as she ignored the contract.

“Not legally.” He insisted and looked at you. “Forgive me. I didn’t introduce myself, your highness. James Barnes, I am a representative of the Astranian court.”

“I don’t--” You blinked. “I don’t understand what’s--”

“Yes, apparently your mother has created a convincing ruse here in this… slum,” He sighed. “What do you know of your grandfather?”

“Don’t talk to her.” Your mother snipped. “Talk to me.”

“She must know--”

“I will explain. That is my responsibility. My right.” She sneered and grabbed the papers.

She flipped the first page, then the second, she continued as she hastily read through it. You peeked over her shoulder but she kept turning away to block you. When she finished, she turned it face down.

“You signed it, Princess,” The man said.

“I was sixteen.” She said. “I was still a child.”

“You were a married woman.” He returned.

“A girl forced into a ring.” She slapped the paper. “And you would have me do the same to my daughter?”

“You already did,” He said plainly. “And she is older. Quite a few years, in fact.”

“It took you years to find us,” She grinned. “You think you’ll be as lucky again?”

“You are being watched. You have been watched.” He pushed his shoulders back. “We have waited long enough.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” You said.

The man, Barnes, looked at you. Appalled.

“I will,” Your mother squeezed your arm. “Mr. Barnes.” She turned back to him, her head held high. “Might you allow me some time to prepare?”

“To run?” He challenged.

“If we are being watched as you say, that should not be an issue,” She sniffed. “You must understand the circumstance.”

“I do understand your negligence,” He raised a brow. “One day. That is all I can allow you.”

He left the contract and stood. He took his briefcase and nodded to the table. “A copy for your records.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and flicked it onto the document. “My information should you require it.”

He bowed his head and turned to leave you. The door opened and closed loudly as he strode out the back door. You sat, perplexed, and reached for the contract. Your mother caught your hand. She turned to you and drew your hand back with her.

“Honey,” She said softly. “I need you to listen to me. Just-- don’t talk, just listen.”

“Mum, I--”

“You’re going to hate me. I know that hate, I felt the same for my own father. I would not blame you for hating me even more than that.” She said grimly. “But please, there is much I need to tell you. That I should’ve told you before.”

“I don’t-- I don’t understand.” You sputtered.

“So just listen,” She pleaded. You nodded and your stomach bubbled nervously. “You’ve heard of Ecklun? You were always so fond of history.” You confirmed and she continued on. “And Astrania. Occasional allies until the dissolution of the former… but that all doesn’t matter.”

Your mother hung her head.

“My father knew the tide was against him. He tried to rally his reinforcements, he made promises to those he thought could help. He was the king, you see? He was dethroned, we were all thrown out of the country. I tried to… stay with him. Tried to make him move on but he wouldn’t. So after I had you, I left. Your father didn’t want to let go either and he refused to come with me.”

She touched her cheek and shuddered.

“It was all gone so I thought that meant it was over. Everything. The promises, the debts.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to start over. For you. But… Your grandfather promised you to the heir of Astrania to fund his personal guard. The same that ejected us from our home.”

She twined her fingers together then pulled them apart. She gulped before she found her voice again.

“That heir is now in power,” She could barely look at you. “And you… you are to be his wife.”

“I-- no, they can’t-- it--”

“I thought I could stop it. I didn’t think they’d want it still but-- I always hated how backwards it all was. Bloodlines, lineage, privilege… It was all so ridiculous.” She huffed. “I-- tried. I failed.”

“You ran once, we can--”

“That man found me. I am not foolish to think he did not come with back-up. I have seen what happens when you undermine others. I have seen the ugliness of it. I can’t say what’s worse; to let them have you or to refuse and suffer further. You don’t know how-- I was stupid enough to think I could ever outpace them.”

You gaped at her. Shocked, angry, sickened.

“And now I can’t stop them.” She uttered.

“You didn’t tell me,” You breathed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“I have school, work...I… No, they can’t. I have a life!” You stood and the chair wobbled.

“Honey, please,” She got to her feet. “I know how it feels. Trust me. My father, he did the same--”

“So what? Family tradition?” You scoffed. “They can’t make me. I’m staying. I’m going to school, I’m working. I’m not--”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t go!” You shouted.

“They’ll make you.”

“How?”

She looked at you. Her face was grim, her wrinkles more apparent than ever before. She didn’t need to say.

“They can’t--”

“They’ll find a way.” She muttered. “They always do. I’m so so sor--”

“So I’ll make them drag me,” You said. “I’ll fight it.”

“It’s treason--”

“It’s the twenty-first century!”

“Not there. It’s not the same as here. There’s no one to stop them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You hit the table and swore. You stormed from the room and slammed your door before you fell onto the bed and screamed into your pillows.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream!

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the-lincyclopedia · 5 years

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Carry On Fic Recs

I’m writing this with a specific, very new Carry On fan in mind, but feel free to take these recommendations no matter who you are!

SHORT FICS (under 10k)

Keep Me Warm by EchoSpell43, 1k, rated T: Set during seventh year at Watford. Baz nearly freezes while hunting in the Wavering Wood. When he returns to the room, Simon decides to warm him up. Short and adorable.

we are the kings and the queens by morbidbookworm, 2k, rated M: A royalty AU. As crown princess, Agatha is supposed to choose a prince consort by age 17. But the two young men who are supposed to be vying for her hand seem to be falling for each other instead. Achingly beautiful.

I Hoped It Was You by EllisyaSyron, 8k, rated T: Set during sixth year at Watford. Baz writes Drarry fanfiction. Simon reads it and draws fanart. They fall in love online, unaware that they’re roommates and mortal enemies in real life. Good enemies-to-lovers stuff here.

Merlin, May I? by Mudblood428, aka @vkelleyart, 7k, rated T: Set during eighth year at Watford. Baz goads Simon into playing a game of making dangerous requests. It doesn’t go as planned, but (ultimately) not in a bad way. Heart-wrenching and lovely.

Honestly by MissCeliaKnight, 7k, rated T: Set during seventh year at Watford. Watford students are assigned to use truth spells on their roommates. Simon gets Baz to admit way more than Simon was prepared to hear. Beautiful angst with a happy ending.

MY SHORT FICS (ignore this section if you don’t like my writing)

Nightmares by HermioneGirl96, 2k, rated T: Set a few months post-epilogue. Baz and Simon both have nightmares about losing each other, and they wind up having a serious conversation about the relationship.

Love Me and Mend by HermioneGirl96, 5k, rated T: Set a few months post-epilogue. Simon has the flu, so he has to miss going to the Globe Theatre with Baz. Baz goes anyway and then takes care of Simon.

Christmas Planning by HermioneGirl96, 3k, rated T: Set a few months post-epilogue. Baz’s father is homophobic and Penny and Simon try to comfort Baz.

I Remember the First Time We Wished upon Parallel Lines by HermioneGirl96, 5k, rated T: Set during fall of eighth year at Watford. Simon and Baz catch each other attempting suicide and talk each other out of it. TW for suicide attempts.

Love in the Time of Influenza by HermioneGirl96, 3k, rated G: Set several months post-epilogue. Baz thinks Simon is cheating on him. Simon thinks Baz is afraid of germs. They’re both wrong.

MEDIUM-LENGTH FICS (10k-60k)

Carry Me Home by Mathmagician, 34k, rated T: Canon-divergent AU where the Humdrum doesn’t exist. Baz is rescued from the numpties by a man who becomes his very abusive boyfriend. Baz is subsequently rescued from his abusive boyfriend by Penny and Simon. Teamwork, discoveries, and romance ensue. Angsty and beautiful. TW for violence.

Love Is Always in Style by rainbowbaz, 40k, rated T: AU where Baz is editor of a fashion magazine and Simon is his assistant. Baz seems so aloof at first, but soon enough he and Simon become . . . close. Witty and lovely.

True Love’s Kiss by rhien, 11k, rated T: Set during a later year at Watford. Baz awakens Simon from a spell-induced stupor with a true love’s kiss and has to deal with the fallout of Simon remembering what happened. Gorgeous and full of feels.

Straight Boy by @bazypitchandsimonsnow, 31k, rated M: University AU. Baz transfers to Watford University and becomes friends with Simon. Well--“friends.” Baz thinks they’re dating. Simon thinks of himself as straight. It’s a mess but works out in the end. Funny and relatable.

BAN’S MEDIUM-LENGTH FICS (because Ban deserves her own section)

network connectivity problems by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 35k, rated T: University AU. Simon has Baz’s number but doesn’t realize it belongs to Baz. The two fall for each other over text even though Simon hates Baz in real life. It gets messy but ultimately works out. Witty and real.

Large Black Coffee by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 19k, rated G: University AU. Simon and Baz are classmates and enemies. Simon is also Baz’s favorite barista. But everything changes when Baz gets sick. Just a fun read.

This Must Be the Place by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 36k, rated G: Canon-divergent AU where Simon gets a phone the summer before eighth year at Watford. He tries to contact Penny but winds up Snapchatting with Baz instead. A lot happens. Beautiful with just the right amount of sadness.

Take on Me by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 50k, rated T: AU where Baz and Simon work in Fiona’s bookshop. At first they hate each other, and then they don’t. What I love, here and elsewhere, is that Ban doesn’t shy away from messy emotional realities and Simon and Baz’s imperfections.

Family and Genus by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 48k, rated T: AU where Baz is supposed to fix up the family manor, and Simon winds up in the area looking for evidence about his parentage. It’s so lovingly written and just great.

LONG FICS (over 60k)

rebel rebel by BasicBathsheba, aka @basic-banshee, 183k, rated T: Canon-divergent AU where Baz was raised by Fiona, spanning all eight years at Watford. This fic is the literal best--funny, angsty, believable, complex. Just. I can’t even.

American Holiday by Olivia Ballard, 138k, rated T: Basically a sequel to Carry On. Baz gets into Julliard and the gang relocates to New York City. This fic will rip you apart and put you back together, and if I don’t like Wayward Son this is what I’m going to believe in instead.

WIPs

Can’t Find My Way Home by tbazzsnow, aka @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, currently 25k, rated T: Normal AU where Baz and Simon used to be roommates at a non-magical boarding school. They run into each other at an airport in a snow storm and a road trip to the nearest functioning airport ensues. I am LIVING for these updates.

One Nice Thing by @mybrianisfried, currently 20k, rated T: Normal AU. A very Gen Z group chat fic that I happen to find both hilarious and feels-y.

Video Killed the Radio Star by thegoodthebadandthenerdy, currently 97k, rated T: YouTuber AU where Baz and Agatha have a makeup channel, Simon has a baking channel, and Penny has a social justice/book review channel. Lots of queer OCs and lots of attention on Penny and Baz’s families. Just delightful.

MULTIMEDIA FICS

The Petal Peddler by @carryonebeneza is an AU told through Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter updates screenshotted and posted to Tumblr. Fiona and Ebb are an item; Baz works at the library; Simon works at Ebb’s flower shop; Agatha is aro; Penny is a boss; everything is great. 24 updates so far.

@simonsrosebud is doing a similar thing, but it’s a university AU and Simon’s the one who works at the library. Agatha’s an American exchange student rooming with Penny. There have only been a few updates, but it’s promising so far!

CONCLUSION

Feel no obligation to read any of these, but this is what I think is good in the Carry On fandom at the moment!

#carry on #fic recs #fic rec #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #mine

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spellsofscarlet · 4 years

Text

It’s a

☆.｡.:* Fic Rec! .｡.:*☆

I love to procrastinate absolute everything in my life (including finishing my own abandoned Wips) by reading the same selection of very good fics over and over and over again until I can recite them by memory. Kidding. Maybe. I thought I’d make a rec list :)

Wanda ﾟ +..｡*ﾟ+ ﾟ

Neshama, @waywardgoose https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328606

Everything that Goose writes is genuinely incredible, but this is the most recent and I’m so in love. Definitely deserves more recognition. 100% the only person who should be allowed near Wanda Maximoff, ever, bc she writes her culture and background so beautifully. Also Ghostwitch. 10/10

8 Bullets, https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847237

A sad fic that focuses on the events and grief following AoU. Very well written, and I love the Wanda and Sam dynamic, and how Wanda’s powers are described.

PSA: Please more people write about my girl, she’s never really centric in any fics and they’re so hard to find :(

Irondad *:･ﾟ✇*:･ﾟ⦿

Signs of Life, https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371448/chapters/5236658

Here it is, the fic that finally got me to make an ao3 account so I could bookmark it. One of my all time favourites; featuring the best, cutest, most adorable baby Peter ever written, I guarantee it. Also, Bucky and Clint are amazing, and, obviously, Peter is deaf in this story and his disability is written perfectly.I could write pages about how I feel about this fic.

In the Home, https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388563

Another older fic, with all the team dynamics you could ask for and so. Much. Angst. Everyone’s probably read this by now, but if not I’d very much reccommend.

Penny Parker Prompts, @justme--emily, https://archiveofourown.org/works/16545014

(And everything else written by Emily_F6 ever). These female Peter Parker stories are my absolute favourite to read. Intern Spider is an incredible story, Febuwhump prompts are heart wrenching, and whumptober too, and aghhhhh. Every single update I read fills a place in my soul. Penny is a five star character,, words cannot express how much I love this writing

greater love has no one than this, @willowsandwastelands , that someone lay down his life for those he loves, https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226037/chapters/48171457#workskin

Short and unfinished, but a beautiful heartbreaking endgame au that’s hurts even more than the film. In the best of ways. I hope it gets updated.

I thought I was a hero (but I was just a child), @akillerqueenwrites ), https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626325/chapters/41558654

How the writer ever writ 28 prompts in a month, and managed for all of them to be so freakin good I will never know. This fic is literally the sole reason that I tried Whumptober this year, and it’s just very really good. And angsty. And fluffy. Perfect.

Bucky ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

Despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained), https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823671/chapters/29276760

So incredibly well written. I must’ve read chapter 15 more than literally anything else. I live in awe of this fic.

Loki ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The one where Loki suffers and I keep making vine references, https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629382

Yall this fic has to be in my top 3. Before this I read Irondad and irondad only, but this managed to convert me to the Loki side. It’s currently being rewritten, but I still go back and read it sometimes because this fic has my whole heart, and Young Loki, Jotun Loki, Loki being controlled by Thanos, and the Avengers realising all of this... It’s all so good. So so good.

#ive wanted to do this for ages and i just got out of an exam hehe #so i finally had time #i have so many more but i only started making bookmarks recently #so its hard to find them #but these are all perfect #and i love them with all my heart #avengers #avengers endgame #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #marvel #spiderman #irondad #tony stark #ao3

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hotwing-sauce · 7 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you could recommend any billdip stories? ( And ChasexJack!!! ) I'm currently stuck on vacation and I would love a good read right now- I've read all your stuff and I love it!!! I think you made a post about what stories you like a while ago but I can't find it? If you can, thank you so much! If not, I'll just read your stuff for like the tenth time again, lol! Keep up the amazing work!

Well hullo there! I certainly can, my billdip and chack loving friend!

I’m going to start with billdip, cause that’s the one you asked about!

—-

At My God’s Feet, I Show My Devotion by @arceustheoriginalone

“Dipper Pines is selected to be the sacrifice for the God that protects his village, The Golden One Who Walks In Dreams

Dressed in the finest silks and weighed down with more than just gold, he ascends the temple stairs that will take him to the end of his mortal life, his soul destined to forever walk the Mindscape. It was there, at the top of the world, where he saw Him, their God, Cipher. It was here, at the alter, where Dipper Pines was destined to die.

Too bad Cipher decides he’s worth keeping.“

10/10, probably my favourite billdip fic in the existence of billdip fanfiction. I mean, the writing style stole my heart. Not to mention the plot is something is something that I genuinely enjoy.

Octobill by @tswwwit

(Homey if you don’t want me to tag you just DM me/I know your tumblr is different then your ao3)

It’s exactly what it sounds like.

Midnight Snack by @roboticspacecase

Dipper stops at a hotel on his way to visit Mabel and finds a tasty looking human to snack on.

Thankfully the stranger is into it because Dipper’s flirting skills suck.

Vampires from the legend herself! If you were a fan of Bite Me, or just a vampire AU in general, you’ll like this!

Chack time, what everyone here comes for (jk, the fandom is dead):

Self-Control by TheFluffyPrince

It was nasty, it was wrong, it was taboo. So of course, Jack wanted to do it.

It’s dragonfucking and I love possessive reptiles fucking humans.

Beat the Heat by Orhpan_Account

Chase was close to conquering his curse, until a monkey wrench was thrown into the works.

I’m really sad that the person who wrote this orphaned it. They were a wonderful author, and I wish I could send them like. Money for making me happy with more dragonfucking smut. Yeah. You heard me. More dragonfucking. Sue me.

The Thing About Bad Pennies by CrystallicSky

They always come back.

This fic also makes me inexplicably sad. It hasn’t updated recently, but this fic is actually the one that got me into writing Chack. I adore this authors writing, and you’ll find it on literally all Chack recommendation lists. Favourite author, hands down. In fact, just head on over to FF.NET or even just hang out on her ao3. She literally has enough work to keep you entertained for the rest of your vaca.

Something Mighty Suspicious by Silvarbelle

Jack behaves very, very suspiciously and Chase Young has to make a decision on what to do about it.

First Chack fic I ever read, still one of my favourites.

—

Now, I know you said billdip and chack, but just in case you’re a little bored and aren’t too picky about your ships, here are a few others!

This Male Has Overslept by @tswwwit

This male naga has overslept. Now, the season is almost over.

Luckily, there’s a brave adventurer nearby! Ready and willing to wake him with Love’s First Annoyance.

This is an original work that like, I would love to see more of? It’s so cute. 10/10 would buy a novel about these two.

dragonfucking by dragonfucker

Oh look. More….dragon…fucking….

Don’t let the summary fool you, this is motherfucking gold. It’s a Hanzo/Spirit Dragons fic, the only one of it’s kind. I’m not even a huge Overwatch fan, in fact I’ve never played it, I know like, the names of five of the characters, but damn.

Move A Heart To Wake by Farasha

Yuri Plisetsky has been suppressing his first heat since he hit puberty. It can come at any time, which is why he’s cautious. But even modern medicine has its limits, and when he goes into heat unexpectedly, he drags Victor into heat with him. It’s a good thing Yuuri has so much stamina.

It’s a threesome between Yuuri/Yuri/Victor. With Yuuri as the alpha. Can I get a hallelujah?

We’ll Walk In Ecstasy by eagle_of_idiocy(flamingofics)

An alien anomaly changes Jim in a way no one could have predicted. His relationship with Spock is ultimately put to the test.

The Chase by eagle_of_idiocy(flamingofics)

When Pon Farr strikes, Kirk uses it to his advantage and leads Spock on a wild chase throughout the Enterprise. An unimpressed McCoy is caught in the middle of it all.

Both of these last two fics are Spirk–mainly because I am a big an of Star Trek. Theyre just beautifully written and have served as a huge inspiration over the last few years.

—-

Annndd that’s all folks. If you ever want more fic recs from fandoms you’re not in, I have plenty! Or ones you are in. I’m not really into a lot of Billdip nowadays, but I can see what else I can find aha.

Thank you for the ask, and I hope you enjoy!!!

#billdip #chack #reccomendations #i have a thing for dragons #so #if anyone ever wants to write me a gift fic #just #dragon sex #any fandom #i don't even care #just dragons fucking humans #i am a tetrophile and a xenophile #god #someone write me a dragonfucking fic

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