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flanaganfilm · 1 year

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Hey Mike! First off, it makes me so happy to see you out there fighting with your writer friends to ensure they receive a decent living wage for the amazing work that they do.

As for my question, I would love to hear about some of the inspiration for making Before I Wake. It and Absentia were the last two of your films that I watched, and BIW just absolutely destroyed me. No other movie, including and especially a horror flick, has ever made me bawl like a baby like that. The entire tone of the film is so spot-on, and the climax of the nightmare monster “dissolving” from its evil form after being embraced…. To me that scene just perfectly encapsulates what it’s like to be a parent, and human; sometimes we just need someone to hold us and let us know things will be all right. We spend so much of our time making sure that our children feel loved and cared for, that sometimes we forget about ourselves. And you just fucking nailed it, my dude.

Like I said, I would LOVE to read any backstory or inspiration that you have for this film! It’s so beautiful and underrated.

On the WGA front, don't be too impressed with me - I mean, I'm a professional writer, I've been a member of the WGA since Absentia, so I'm out there fighting for myself as much as everyone else.

But on the Before I Wake front, you know I very rarely get asked to talk about this one, so I'm happy to... fair warning for another long post!

Before I Wake was originally titled Somnia, which is latin for "dreams." It was part of an unofficial trilogy of sorts, comprised of Absentia, Oculus and Somnia. All three of those movies were meant to work together as a thematic triptych.

Ultimately, Before I Wake was brutally sabotaged by its own studio, who drastically undermined it creatively and then destroyed any hope of a meaningful release. It remains a particularly heartbreaking chapter of my career... but a film I have and will always have tremendous affection for.

A lot of people think that Somnia was made after Hush and Ouija: Origin of Evil, just before Gerald's Game, but this is entirely incorrect. It was actually the second "real" movie I ever made, and was actually shot before Oculus was even released.

The basic premise of Somnia focused around a little boy whose dreams manifested physically in the world around him, and was an original concept I carried around for a few years before Oculus got picked up by Intrepid Pictures. In fact, I've talked about my first meeting at Intrepid, where I pitched a few ideas that were rejected... Somnia was the first one I pitched. Trevor Macy opted to pursue Oculus that day, but he ended up producing Somnia right after.

This unofficial "latin trilogy" seemed to fit together well. Absentia was a somber and bleak look at the loss of hope, Oculus was more thrilling dive into the labyrinth of past trauma, and Somnia was meant to take that loss and trauma and end the triptych on a note of hope and healing.

In fact, the script for Somnia was written before Oculus was greenlit. On the page, it was my favorite of the three. I was very taken with the story of little Cody and his personal boogeyman, and of the revelation at the end of the story... that with understanding, even the most monstrous of our fears can lose their destructive power.

Cody's birth mother had died of cancer, and he had seen her just before her death. That final image of her, as well as a misunderstanding about the pronunciation of the word "cancer" had led to the creation of a monster in his mind, who he called the "Canker Man"... a gaunt figure who took away people that he loved. When he finally learns the truth about his monster, and about his mother, he begins to understand it all... and the monster loses its awful powers as empathy and understanding take root.

While Absentia finished its festival rounds and Oculus inched its way toward production, Somnia was my first script taken out to market by my new agency. I had signed with APA just as Intrepid engaged me on Oculus, which was my first studio writing and directing job. Jeff Howard and I finished our first draft of Oculus and turned it in to Intrepid, and immediately turned around and started writing Somnia.

The script got some interesting attention. While some of the more mainstream horror companies balked at the emotional ending and preferred a story that was "more about a boy and his monster" than the emotional wrap-up we insisted on, others understood it right away.

Elijah Wood and his producing partner Daniel Noah sought me out when they read the script. We met for drinks in Venice and I was absolutely starstruck, and we've remained friends ever since.

Jada Pinkett Smith was another big fan of the script, which led to a surreal afternoon at her stunning home where we talked about the story at length and watched an early cut of Oculus in her home theater. Will Smith joined us toward the end of the meeting, and I had a difficult time speaking.

I've written before about the drama surrounding Oculus' premiere and eventual sale to Relativity Media, so I won't rehash that now, but as Oculus raced toward release, Trevor Macy at Intrepid made an offer to produce Somnia for Relativity and I eagerly accepted. My first "real" movie was going to be released wide in theaters, and the same studio was going to double-down on me - Somnia was greenlit by Relativity for a big domestic theatrical release. We'd pre-sell our foreign territories on this promise, and they eagerly snatched the movie up. This was my own Hollywood dream, coming to life.

It wouldn't work out that way. In fact, Somnia would turn out to be the first nightmare of my career.

It started well enough. We had filmed Oculus in Daphne, Alabama, taking advantage of an aggressive tax rebate. We would do the same with Somnia, bringing back a lot of my Oculus crew and shooting in and around Fairhope. We began shooting in the fall of 2013, less than a year after we'd wrapped Oculus.

We hit the ground running. Very little time had passed since we wrapped Oculus, and the movie hadn't come out yet, so at first it felt a lot like we were just picking up where we left off.

Bruce Larsen, who also carved the Oculus mirror, working on a prototype of the Canker Man.

We had casting challenges. I was still a relatively unproven director, my first studio film hadn't been released, and this was an ambitious script. After a lengthy search (driven by foreign pre-sales, a process I knew nothing about and now quite detest), Kate Bosworth signed on to play Jessie, and Thomas Jane - who I admired greatly from his recent work in The Mist - joined the production as Mark. (Funny story - Tom arrived with hair down his shoulders, and vehemently didn't want to cut it. That disagreement put us off on an awkward foot, and I ultimately conceded the point to him... though I do regret that now.)

The major discovery was 7 year-old Jacob Tremblay as Cody. Jake had only made one movie before this, he had a small role in The Smurfs 2. His self-tape audition came out of nowhere and we knew was a a phenomenal talent. Right after we wrapped, I got a call that he was being considered for a movie called Room, and we shared some footage to help him get the part (that movie would establish him as one of the biggest and most sought after child actors in the world... but we had him first.)

We were committed to practical effects wherever possible, and creating a striking suit for our monster. It all felt like it was going to work. But the shoot would prove to be much more challenging than we anticipated.

The shoot itself was challenging for the typical reasons. There was a little creative tension on set with particular actors, we didn't have enough money to pull off our more ambitious visual moments, and we were forced to remove several production days at the last minute, throwing our schedule into a bit of chaos.

But none of these issues were particularly unusual for a lower budget film, and while it was more challenging and frustrating than Oculus had been, overall the shoot was just fine. I felt that our third act was pretty drastically under budgeted, and what was scripted to be a deep dive into a child's imagination was stripped down to a few vines on the walls and some moths... but other than that, I don't really have much to complain about.

(Fun fact: it was also the first time I would work with Annabeth Gish. We were fast friends, and though she was only with us for a few days, I knew we'd end up working together again.)

We wrapped the movie, I got to editing, and all seemed fine. It was a unique story, much less horror-centric and much more of a fairy-tale. This was, of course, by design. There was a delicate vibe to the whole thing, anchored on Jacob's arresting performance, and a shadowy magic. It felt innocent, wondrous, and ultimately cathartic.

Then, Relativity got their first look at the cut, and the problems started in earnest.

We had been clear (and aligned, I'd thought) about what kind of movie this was. But almost immediately, despite these conversations, the studio began to push the film more and more toward being a traditional horror movie.

We had designed a practical monster in the Canker Man. Our creature was tactile, practical, and - we believed - appropriately simple. After all, it was meant to have come from the mind of a child.

The studio kicked hard, and the directive came down to try to make the monster "much scarier."

There wasn't a lot we could do; we'd shot what we'd shot, after all. The decision was made to take our footage of our practical monster and drastically alter it using visual effects.

The Canker Man would be digitally warped and molded into a skeletal, grinning creature. The visual effects artists would be using footage that wasn't captured with the intention of being altered that way, so a lot of the artifice would be obvious. He'd become a little rough around the edges. We told ourselves that this would be okay... it was a dream, after all.

Early camera tests of our practical Canker Man suit

The final VFX-enhanced monster This began to nudge our monster away from our core concept. While our practical suit would always need some help from VFX, this was now tilting into an area that strayed from the true identity of the creature.

Another major sticking point was the plot itself.

In the movie, Cody's adopted mother Jessie is shocked to find a physical manifestation of her deceased son, Sean, after Cody sees his picture. She then goes about trying to "rebuild" her dead son in the imagination of her new foster child, hoping to see and interact with him more... "I just want to hear his voice."

This morally questionable exploitation of Cody was, to put it mildly, the entire point of the story. Jessie goes too far, and when she finally resorts to drugging Cody to force him to sleep in the hopes of seeing her lost son, he is unable to wake up from a nightmare and her husband is killed.

Jessie spends the rest of the film clawing her way back to redemption, and having to atone for what she's done, all while finally focusing on Cody's past and healing instead of her own.

As a character, Jessie does things we do not agree with, and they have serious, permanent consequences. And the moral murkiness of this was, frankly, the point.

The studio was flinching hard. "It makes her unlikeable," they argued. There was a push to try to back off of this, and to pull the punch... sure, she could exploit him somewhat, but they wanted to pull it back. Kate Bosworth's performance began to be altered in the cutting room, flinching away from some of the more decisive choices in favor of a more watered-down, morally generic heroine.

This middle ground would prove to be ill-advised.

As we were battling over the edit, something else happened. Oculus was released in theaters in April 2014.

If the movie was a huge hit, it would mean I would likely win more of these arguments, and Somnia would be restored to something closer to my vision. If the movie bombed, the studio could (and likely would) run ramshot over Somnia, twisting it into a more generic studio horror story and jettisoning things they didn't quite understand.

Ultimately, the movie performed... moderately. It was kind of right in the middle. It wasn't a failure, but it wasn't a hit either. Both sides dug in. And suddenly, Somnia was being twisted into something between two tones.

Citing the "disappointing" performance of Oculus (which, frankly, did just fine), the studio insisted that we write and shoot some additional "scares". Among them was one of the worst studio notes I'd ever receive (well, at least until I started working for Netflix.)

The entire premise of the film was that, when Cody slept, his dreams would manifest physically. When he woke up, they would vanish. This was, to put it bluntly, our only rule.

The note came in: "We need a scare set piece to occur when he is awake."

Now, I can't understate how nonsensical this is. It defied the entire premise of the movie. Their rationale (such as it was) was that the audience wouldn't ever be frightened when Cody was awake, because they knew the monsters only came when he was asleep.

"Well yeah," I said. "That's why it's important that the movie isn't just about scares."

But they were insistent. If a monster showed up while Cody was awake, that would be "truly thrilling" and "catch the audience off-guard."

It was the equivalent of saying "the shark in Jaws only attacks people if they're in the water. We need an attack to occur on land." I mean, that would really catch the audience off-guard.

I had no idea how to address this note.

It was early in my career, I didn't have a theatrical hit under my belt, and I didn't have the ammunition to fight it. So I had to address it somehow, and it had to satisfy the studio, or else we may not get our theatrical release after all.

So I ended up writing a scene where Cody is wide awake, only to be attacked in his bed by the specter of a deceased bully (a previous victim of one of his dreams).

How the fuck were we going to make this make any sense? Well, we had to write a whole other scene - much earlier in the film - where a therapist explains the concept of "waking dreams." Jay Karnes (who was a lovely person and one hell of a good sport) had to randomly say "you know, some people can dream while they're awake" to Bosworth, desperately trying to set up this moment.

It doesn't quite work, to say the least. Cody looks under his bed, sits up, and is attacked by this eye-less specter. Then, he's dragged screaming under his bed, until the attack just... stops, for some reason.

We filmed it, and I thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever shot (it wasn't, though - the stupidest thing I've ever shot remains the on-screen stalking and murder of a cat in the pilot of Midnight Mass, a truly braindead scene that Netflix insisted on adding.)

Along with this scene, which would become the crux of Relativity's trailer, we shot several other random scares that were peppered throughout the movie. Now, this wasn't enough to tip the film entirely into being a horror film... just enough to make it exist awkwardly in between two genres.

It got worse. The addition of all this new "horror" material made the film longer (go figure), so the directive came down to begin removing other elements to make room. Those elements were character development and context.

The cut began to get bumpy. The fairy-tale tone of most of our original footage was at odds with the overt horror tone the studio was insisting upon. Every time we tested one of these cuts, the audience was understandably confused... they really loved the concept, they really loved Jacob, and they all loved the ending revelation - but along the way, what was this movie? Was it a horror film? Was it a drama? A fantasy?

Even with this, our test screenings were actually pretty good. We were testing in the high sixties and seventies - which is, infuriatingly, right in that middle zone: not good enough to kill the studio interference, but not bad enough to let them take over.

So we kept fighting. And we kept cutting. And we kept testing. And with each screening, the studio forced it further and further into this no-man's land.

There were a few victories, though. Danny Elfman came on board to collaborate with the Newton Brothers on our score. Some of our non-horror sequences, like a scene involving Christmas-light butterflies, were being called out by our test audiences in the best ways. But the tug-of-war over the basic identity of the film was tipping decidedly toward the more horror-centric approach.

Finally, the studio came after the title. Somnia was too confusing, they said. Nobody knew what it meant. So, we added a scene where Jay Karnes - once again having to naturally sell force-fed exposition - literally defines the world "somnia" during a therapy scene (these therapy scenes were basically being used to spoon-feed material to the audience.)

That wasn't enough, though. The studio began workshopping other titles, and they landed on perhaps my most hated of all of the options: the ultra-generic Before I Wake, a title already used by a handful of low-budget thrillers over decades. We conceded after it was made clear that it wasn't really up to me in this case, and we limped into what I consider to be the worst title of my career.

With our new uneven tone, a new and "improved" monster, and a groan inducing title, they finally agreed to stop messing with the movie and honor their commitment to releasing it wide.

You tell yourself a lot of things in this business, and I told myself that the heart of the story - the revelation about where the concept of the Canker Man came from - was still intact, so all would be well. Viewers would be able to look past some of the bumps because the payoff was worth it.

But we didn't know what else was happening at Relativity.

They announced the release date for the film, posters started showing up in theaters, and we were anxiously awaiting our big wide theatrical release... when suddenly everything stopped.

We didn't know it yet, but Relativity Media was having huge financial problems. They were on the verge of bankruptcy, as a matter of fact, and though they weren't admitting it yet, internally they were in a state of absolute chaos.

Without warning or explanation, the studio moved us off our date. The movie wouldn't be released after all. We immediately knew something was very wrong, despite Ryan Kavanaugh's insistence that our date was "just a bad date," and that he'd moved the movie in order to make it "an even bigger success." No, this whole thing stunk. It stunk bad.

They set another date, and we watched and waited. But no trailers. No marketing. And then... that date was pushed as well. Again, they insisted everything was fine. But we knew. Something was deeply wrong with the company, and they were lying to us.

Some of this played out publicly. Kavanaugh and I got into a spat on Twitter when I suggested that the studio wasn't able to release the movie theatrically after all (I still don't regret saying this, and man oh man, was I proven right).

Meanwhile, our international distributors were scrambling. We'd sold a lot of international territories off the promise of our big theatrical release in North America, and they weren't going to wait forever. By the third time Relativity pushed our release date, the whole house of cards fell down, and various international territories started releasing the film haphazardly on whatever platforms they could.

There was no coordinated release strategy. Suddenly, the film was just available in Argentina, for example. Or it was On Demand in Russia. I remember being shocked when a German Blu-ray appeared on eBay without warning.

There was no rollout to critics, no coordination at all. Within a few weeks, it was pirated and available on torrent sites everywhere. And without a proper press rollout, the only reviews available were trickling in from these international markets, or random blogs in other countries. A slew of reviews - many of which were from obscure blogs in Russia and Turkey, not even written in English - hit Rotten Tomatoes. With no counterpoint from any credible critics, we debuted with a 30% rotten rating.

It would stay this way for years.

Relativity finally admitted the truth, declared bankruptcy, and went to court. Our movie was dragged down into the vortex with it. Our abysmal tomatometer score suggested that the movie wasn't released because it was bad, not because the studio had gone bankrupt. This assumption stuck to us like glue as the film languished in bankruptcy court.

Heartbroken, we turned our attention elsewhere. I would write and direct both Hush and Ouija: Origin of Evil before the whole distribution saga of Before I Wake was finally resolved.

In the years that followed, very little would be said about Before I Wake, and whatever was said was absolutely not positive... how bad must this movie be, after all, to be so unceremoniously pulled from the release? Some theaters just left the poster up, still saying "Coming Soon." I know of one theater in LA that had it up for over a year.

By the time Relativity finally settled their mess, and the film was unceremoniously given back to us with the most lackluster apology imaginable, and our chances of a domestic theatrical distribution were entirely obliterated. The film was already available online through piracy and a tiny handful of foreign blogs had defined our critical reception. No other studio would touch it.

We were able to arrange one screening of the film once it was unencumbered... we had a single showing at Fantastia in Montreal, a festival I adore. Instead of a huge worldwide theatrical release, the movie would play exactly one time, to one audience.

It was sold out, it played wonderfully, and it remains one of my favorite screenings of my career.

With Mitch Davis, Fantasia's artistic director, Kate Bosworth, and my wife Kate Siegel.

In the years that had passed since we shot Before I Wake, Kate Siegel and I had gotten married. At the premiere, and in the picture above, Kate was pregnant with our son.

We named him Cody, after the little boy in Somnia... the little boy whose dreams came true.

In 2016, Netflix acquired the North American rights to Before I Wake, and quietly dumped it on the service. There was no premiere, no rollout, no screeners sent to critics. One day it just appeared on the service without fanfare, as Netflix does to so many titles.

It didn't even appear on the New Releases tab.

A few critics found the movie on their own, and slowly some new reviews started to trickle out. Bloody Disgusting led the charge, discussing how the film had been wrongfully maligned over the years, and correcting identified it as a "haunted fairy tale" that was being handicapped by the expectations that it was a horror film.

Our tomatometer began to slowly rise. After some time, it tipped out of "rotten" into "fresh"... and today stands comfortably at 66%. Those early, malicious reviews are still there, the movie is still scarred by them... but despite Relativity (and eventually Netflix's) efforts to rebrand the movie as a straight horror film, most critics were able to see it for what it truly was.

Our audience was as well, for the most part. Some viewers yawning their way through the Netflix original horror feature section would find it, and get something maybe just a little more thoughtful than they were expecting. A few people reached out to me to talk about losing their own loved ones to cancer, or about how the sweeter elements of the story impacted them. I've always been grateful for that.

But ultimately, the movie was just brutalized by its studio. I've never again had so much damage inflicted on a project by a creative partner and supposed collaborator. And while Netflix did the bare minimum when it came to releasing the movie, I am still very grateful that that they even did that much... if it wasn't for Netflix picking it up, I think there's every chance Before I Wake would have never been made available at all.

I'm proud of the movie. It's not perfect, by any means - it was an ambitious sophomore effort and I had a lot to learn about a lot of things - but it has some beautiful ideas and some moments that really work. I see its flaws clearly, too, and while I tell myself some were out of my control (like the awkward scares forced on us by Relativity), others were most certainly entirely on me. Not everything works, and that's okay.

But man, Jacob Tremblay is phenomenal in this movie. And I absolutely adore the final ten minutes.

My son Cody is almost 7 now, exactly as old as Jacob was when he was cast to play his namesake. I hope Cody's dreams come true; that's why we named him what we named him.

Sometimes, our dreams don't come true quite how we might expect.

Hollywood is just kinda like that, I guess.

#before i wake #behind the scenes

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system-of-a-feather · 30 days

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Sometimes I feel people who spend too much time arguing online about specific stances forget that sometimes people just like to talk about things that are important and meaningful to them regardless of if it supports or weakens their stance and/or in group

Like yeah I have opinions and kinda engage with syscourse, but for the most part, before I'm pro-endo or what ever I am a person of color, I'm AAPI, I'm a practicing Buddhist, I am visibly trans and queer, I am intersex, I love and care a lot about birds, I love research particularly in soft sciences, I have late-stage recovery person with DID and complex trauma collected through my life span, I'm autistic and I professionally work with kids

Topics relating to any of those are things I enthusiastically talk about and love to engage in discussion over at any point and SOMETIMES those things overlap with online discourse and syscourse and overall, the interaction of ALL of those factors lead me to generally be pro-endo

But I am not talking about those things because I'm pro-endo or because I want to push an agenda or bolster a side; I'm talking about them cause >they matter to me beyond online discourse and the online discourse is just one of the many places those topicss appear in real life<

As a POC Buddhist, "tulpa"mancers are culturally appropriative or, at the very least, the "tulpa" community has SEVERE racial issues and perspectives in the community's culture that they have got to work on and address properly. If you deny that, you are an asshole. That supports anti-endo sentiments but WAIT

As a POC Buddhist, I find it pretty colonialist and white / western centric to claim that the ONLY way for someone to legitamently experience themselves as more than one is through trauma because MANY non-european, non-western cultures have the experience of being multiple normalized without being anything clinical or due to trauma. That's a point for pro-endos.

Wait what? Why am I saying endos and anti-endos are behaving in ways rooted in cultural appropriation, racism, orientalism, and colonialist ideology? What?

Maybe it's cause cultural appropriation, racism, orientalism and colonialist ideology is pervasive in society and all groups and I am much more concerned about calling THAT out than I am over an arbitrary online discourse about whose the most real

95% of what I post about I don't identify as syscourse cause syscourse is RARELY the point as much as it is a byproduct OF the point. Like I know many would consider it still syscourse and thats fair and valid, but syscourse is rarely the intentional point of any of my posts these days because its honestly such a stupid debate

#syscourse #syscourse tw #discourse #discourse tw

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sailorrlino · 11 months

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Crown | One | (lmh)

𓆩⟡𓆪 Pairing: Lee Minho x reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 Summary: The prince of the Unseelie Court has a single job: find a suitable marriage to strengthen the ties of his court and to keep the peace of the city. But when he stumbles across you at a bar and feels the thread between you form, Minho knows immediately that he’s found his other half, his mate. When he comes across you again at the ball meant to find his marriage match, disaster ensues and the fight for his crown begins.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Word Count: 8,542

𓆩⟡𓆪 Genre: Urban Fantasy | Soulmates | Angst |

𓆩⟡𓆪 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Warnings: Explicit language, worldbuilding, talks of politics and social economic issues, slight depictions of anxiety, Minho and reader both are very cranky and overall don't have great outlooks on life, depictions of blood and core, violent action scenes, really creepy creatures idk, mentions of a deceased parent and mild references to childhood trauma (more like a suggestion that reader had a rough childhood) and Minho ruminates on some family obligations

𓆩⟡𓆪 A/N: This chapter took so much longer to write than I thought that it was going to but it is finally here. I have been super nervous about it and I kept editing it over and over again because the later half with the action/magic sequences were really giving me trouble. I don't usually struggle this much, but writing has been super hard which is also why I somehow managed to write something under 10k for the first time in what feels like a year? Also, the creatures mentioned here are inspired by displacer beasts in D&D in look/aesthetic only. I hope you enjoy my little fantasy world that I have been obsessing over - I am really excited to be writing this and cannot wait to delve into the plot fully. I have some really fun and crazy things planned!

𓆩⟡𓆪 Disclaimer: All members of Stray Kids are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ Series Masterlist ⟡ Playlist ⟡ Ask ⟡ Next Chapter

If there's one thing I am sure of, I am sure that you have always belonged with me. -AKIF KICHLOO

It’s going to be a bad day. To be fair, it usually is. This time, though, Minho wakes with premonition sweat on the back of his neck and a spark of magic at his fingers, brought to life by whatever nightmare plagued him just moments before.

His worst days always start like this: a nightmare that feels more than just a dream but he cannot remember, sitting right on the edge of his vision, watching from the shadows. Sweat slips down his back, the touch of a reaper’s finger. Magic crackles at his fingertips, ready to protect himself.

The dreams themselves don’t happen that often, but they happen enough that Minho’s looked into them. He’s asked the royal family Lorist about dreams numerous times. Seungmin is tricky, though, his words and explanations twisting and never really landing in anything that feels meaningful. Still, Minho remembers the way that Seungmin’s tricky chatter quieted when he told him about the dreams, the way the Lorist’s mirth faded, replaced with something darker before returning to his usual, smirking self.

Peeling the sheets off of sweat-slick skin, Minho sits up. The world tilts, spinning unbalanced on its axis as he recovers from the dream. He leans forward, elbows pressed into the tops of his knees, and hangs his head down, taking in a deep breath. He remembers that the Lorist told him a calm, quiet mind was the best tool for remembering what is just beyond one’s reach.

Minho tries and fails. His mind hasn’t been quiet in years and he doesn’t suppose it ever will be.

Rain paints the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of his bed. This high up in the building, the clouds darken the windows with a frosty glaze and the rain freezes, spider webbing once it hits the cool glass. The sun is hidden behind darker, thicker clouds somewhere in the east. He thinks he won’t see it today.

Not that he minds the rain, usually. Stratos is a city of rain, the epicenter of unusual weather and lightning storms charged with the earth's natural magic. Minho can feel it humming in the air beyond the window as he walks barefoot and unsteady to the bathroom, eager to throw cold water on his face.

Cool water spills from the wall in the bathroom. The wall is hewn rock and living lichen, glowing mushroom caps, and other fauna and flora that glow in the darkness where they thrive. The water spilling from the wall is always bitter, fresh and invigorating, waking him up further as he splashes his face. He’s unsure of the system of portals and ley lines that makes his home full of pieces of his home here, in the apartment building he pays too much coin for, but it’s a nice touch, to feel the bite of the river from home.

Home.

The apartment building in the sky isn’t home. Not really. It’s a place that gives him space and the agency to be himself and do what he wants, but home is a faraway dimension that he hasn’t seen since he was five. Home is now one of the Burned Kingdoms, fallen away to ash and ruin.

Except for the Gwy, this river that streams through the worlds. Through his childhood bedroom. Through the room reserved for him at the Unseelie Court, through many worlds and other places. There are other names for it, he knows, this river that runs through the entire world and other worlds. But it’s always been the Gwy to him, cold and sweet-tasting.

It is one of the few memories of home he has, beyond the burning and the carnage. He tries not to think about that as he leaves, grabbing his tablet by the desk and flicking upward. His windows darken, muting the frosty rain in favor of moving pictures and screens.

One panel of glass displays the news. Another panel brings up messages and an agenda for the day. He purposely doesn’t look at the agenda, tapping the tablet to bring up his recent messages, which are most notably from Chan.

Chan: Jeongin and I will be escorting you tonight. No giving the kid a hard time, this is training.

Chan: And before you ask, yes this is low-risk enough for him to be on duty for. No I will not hear any complaints as the captain of your guard. Yes, I think that he will be nervous and awkward.

Chan: Do not let Changbin bully his way into joining us.

Chan: This is a gala not a party.

Changbin: Tell the illustrious Captain Bang to let me fucking go tonight. The kid won’t even get to enjoy the fact that it’s a party.

Changbin: I don’t care what Chan says, it’s a ball and it’s got drinks and shit, it’s basically a party. Even if it’s fancy.

Blowing out a sigh, Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t want to think about the gala tonight. Does not want to think about how once more his mother is going to push him into suitable marriage options, insisting that the world is going to end if they do not ally themselves with a suitable powerhouse in the city.

It’s both true and untrue. Minho knew from a young age he would always have to fill obligations as the heir to the Unseelie throne. He would never get to have a life outside of politics and trickery and diamond-studded niceties. Yet despite his loyalty to his court and the fastness at which he obeys, there is something rearing inside of him that screams there is more there is more there is more.

Minho doesn’t know where this comes from, this little sliver of him. He’s been an obedient and resolute child since birth - painfully so, according to most of the courtiers. And yet there is this tiny thread that unspools inside of him once in a while, filling him with doubt and chaos and thoughts that perhaps rebelling, that stepping away from his loyalties wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Perhaps there is something out there in the world calling to you, Seungmin had said one night over a glass of wine. His eyes had been twinkling and there was a little secret smirk on his face. Perhaps it is a part of you that exists elsewhere.

Minho has no fucking idea what the Lorist means. He rarely does. Seungmin’s existence in the court is purely out of traditions to the old ways. Hundreds of years ago, he would have been a seneschal and something like a seer. Now, with the watered-down blood of the fae, Seungmin is little more than a showy novelty hidden in the astronomy tower of the Unseelie Court.

Still, Minho likes him. Likes the way that they feel like friends, in a way. Doesn’t always mind that the Lorist talks in circles when giving advice, but is quite normal when he wants to play video games and frustrate the rest of them with his cheating.

Honey-scented coffee reaches Minho as he leaves the bedroom, still dressed in nothing but sweatpants hung low on his hips. Felix is in the kitchen, a hot mug of coffee floating toward Minho. His lips twitch as he reaches out for it, plucking the mug from the air. It resits a little before Felix’s magic lets it go.

“Good morning, finish that fast. We have your suit fitting to get to.” Felix’s deep voice is a stark contrast to his elegant features. He turns to look at Minho with a smile, his eyes the color of emeralds. “I put it on your calendar that you probably ignored.”

“I didn’t ignore the calendar.”

Felix hums, turning back around. His blonde hair is pushed back, mullet-style, and soft looking. He’s already dressed for the day in jeans and a cable knit sweater, his bag laying across the counter where his tablet lights up with notifications.

“So you were just afraid of a specific event on your calendar,” Felix supplies. Minho winces and sips the coffee. It is perfectly flavored with sweet cream and hints of honey, his favorite. “Either way, we need to get to Almas early. You know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Lifting a hand, Felix snaps his fingers once. There’s a spark as green as his eyes between them and a scone appears in front of Minho. He plucks it out of the air, eyeing the witch whose back is turned to him. Felix’s magic always leaves the scent of cinnamon when he uses it, singing Minho’s nose.

“Thanks,” he deadpans, tearing into the scone with his teeth. “Can you order a box of those chocolates that Jeongin likes from Sprinkled Sprite? He’s on duty tonight training with Chan. I’d like to give him a gift.”

“How kind of you.”

Minho heads back to his room to change. “It’s not from me,” he corrects, even though Felix is already scoffing as he turns and begins tapping on his tablet. “Please address it from the royal family, Felix.”

“Uh huh.”

In his room, Minho gets dressed, eyes on the screen as the news blares on, red font swiping across the screen for an emergency announcement. His brows pull together, eyes fixed on the images in front of him as he buttons his shirt from bottom to top, fingers nimble.

A reporter is on the scene, holographic caution tape flashing in the rain behind her. Minho thinks she’s a werewolf from the amber color of her eyes and claw-tipped fingers, but he looks away from her to focus on the flurry of activity behind her where nephilim police keep people on the other side talking to one another as rain slicks off their police-issued coats.

“Another grisly murder in the third floor of this apartment building,” the reporter says, speaking loud enough that the mic can pick up her voice over the tap tap tap of the deluge. “Located in downtown in the Lethe sector, it’s the second murder in recent weeks, coming days after a brutal crime scene just three blocks down. Is it a coincidence? Is it the start of a serial killer? SPD says it's too early to tell.”

The TV turns off and Minho looks at where Felix is standing in the doorway, green eyes fixed on the now empty windows. He flicks his gaze to Minho and offers him a tight-lipped smile. “Perhaps best not to start the morning with such dreadful news.”

“I’m going to have to hear about it anyway. The daemons are pushing for an audience. They say the reported murder wasn’t the first and that this has been going on for weeks.”

“Well, then the queen will take an audience with them if she feels it’s necessary.” Minho eyes Felix, but there’s no emotion on the witch’s face. “Ready to go?”

Minho flexes his fingers and rolls his shoulders. “Yes.”

You’re going to have a bad day. You knew it when you woke up on the edge of a dream that left you sweat-slick and short of breath. The dream hovered right on the edge of your mind, slipping through your grasp like grains of sand as you tried to dig and pull the memories back.

It’s always like this. Waking up from something you can’t remember, carrying around the dregs of a nightmare with you all day. You always feel hollow after, like something terrible has happened but you can’t recall what. Can’t place the feeling of the shadow that slinks from your dreamscape into your waking hours, watching and waiting until you fall asleep again.

The bad day comes for you like you knew it would. You’re going to be late to work. Again. It’s a condition that the public transportation system has made incurable. Buses are always behind, the subway is only reliable from midtown to uptown, and the only carpooling services here are run by the pixies who are too easily distracted by lights to get you where you’re going on time. Especially in the Lethe sector.

Jisung will just have to cover for you like he always does. He’s good at that, turning on the vila charm and glittering smile. It’s useful, having him to count on. You feel a little bad about it, but you make up for your lack of timeliness in other ways like making sure he doesn’t get the shit beat out of him when he takes on dangerous clients, his knife in the dark.

Still, as the rain pours down on your coat and the street's drain systems fail, causing water to surge around your ankle along with the garbage clogging the drains in the first place, you wonder if he’ll ever get tired of covering for you.

A cat yowls and runs down an alleyway as you walk by, startling you. Pulling your jacket closer, you keep your eyes lingering in the shadows of each alley you pass. Your dagger is strapped to your calf under your pants, but you’re still wary walking down the streets in the pouring rain, especially now.

Murders happen in the Lethe sector all the time. You’re no stranger to that. You’re even responsible for a few of them. But the types of murders being whispered about in the circles that you pass and being murmured in the closed doors of the clubs is that something isn’t right. There is something moving through downtown, tearing creatures apart.

In a way, you’re unconcerned. As long as you and yours are safe and protected, it isn’t your business what is prowling through Lethe. As long as Hyunjin and Jisung are alive and healthy, you don’t particularly care to find out what’s murdering its way through apartment complexes.

Below the drowning surface of the streets is worse than above. Water runs down the steps of the subway like a waterfall, splashing out onto the floor before it spreads and eventually spills onto the tracks. There are wet floor signs everywhere as the subway androids drive around with mops, doing nothing but certainly trying to squeegee the water into drains.

You jump the pay meter, ignoring the way it blares red when you do so. The little androids are so worried about the deluge that they don’t turn at the sound of a payment being skipped, making you grin. Serves the transportation system right for charging you at all for something public.

The train car is full of soaked wet people huddling in seats. At least the air conditioning doesn’t work so you don’t have the sting of cold air clinging to your skin as you tuck yourself in an empty seat, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

At the end of the car is a group of solitary fae, heads tilted together and giggling over their phones. You watch them from the corner of your eye. They’re dressed mostly in black with merchandise from a vampire band you vaguely recognize.

Dropping your eyes to the ground, you stare at the scuffed shoes on your feet. You wonder what it’s like to go out to a concert with friends dressed in band tees and high on pre-concert adrenaline. When you go out with your friends, it’s to work. To watch Jisung bat his eyelashes and trade secrets and kisses for the elite who come from uptown to slum it without watchful eyes. To slip a knife between the ribs of someone who got a little too close, who was a little too rough. To get battered by Hyunjin as he tries to hone you into a warrior he so desperately tells you that you need to be.

With a heavy sigh, you lean back and close your eyes, pressing your head against the window. The rocking of the subway car on the tracks is gentle, soothing almost. As you sink into the exhaustion that pulls at your skin and bones with greedy hands, you slip away somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, a sort of in-between.

Here, in between, is where you feel the same thing you always do: a void. A missing piece. Something not right inside of you, like a lock with no key. For a long time, you thought that perhaps you were just built wrong. It was a good enough guess because you’re certainly not the kind of faerie that your mother’s court is proud of.

This feels deeper, though. Like there is something out there waiting for you, calling to you. Your father wasn’t helpful when you told him about this feeling of something waiting for you beyond, chalking it up with a tight smile and a mutter of the word destiny.

You don’t believe in destiny, though. There is nothing meant for anyone. People are born, things happen to them, then they die. Unless they’re immortal, which is pretty common in Stratos.

An announcement chimes above your head announcing a stop and you look up to see the group of solitary fae clambering to get off the car. As they pass, one of them turns to look at you. Their eyes are large and round, like a horse. One is crystal blue while the other is wholly black, no iris, no whites. You startle, recognizing the dark eye of a seer as the faerie stares at you with uncanny sharpness.

Something tingles at the back of your neck. The faerie doesn’t move and outside of the train car, their friends start to call their name, but the faerie is motionless, cocking their head and pinning you with that stare. Ice forms in your veins as their friends all turn to you, mouths going tight like they sense what's about to happen.

“Save Jeongin,” the faerie says, voice paper thin. They nod as if confirming what they’re telling you. “Save Jeongin, find the missing half.”

The words hit you with an invisible force. You squirm in your seat, watching as the faerie blinks, a little dazed. They turn on their heel and rush off the train just as the doors to the car shut and the train dings as it shoots forward again, leaving you staring at the shut doors.

Goosebumps break out over your arms. Something within you stirs, like a predestined feeling of knowing. Perhaps it's because the seer just told you something that is most likely valuable and a little haunting, but perhaps it's your instinct. Your father always said you had a preternatural instinct, a gut feeling about things that were beyond the normal predictiveness of the fae.

Swallowing hard, you lean back in your seat and fight a shiver. Jeongin. You have no idea who or what that is. The name means nothing to you, and you know a lot of names. You’re in the business of knowing names. You memorize the sound and shape of it, running over the faerie's instructions over and over until it's committed to memory to ask Jisung about it later.

Save Jeongin, find the missing half.

Anxiety creeps up your spine, walking its cool fingers up to the nap of your neck where it settles like a collar. You feel it squeeze as you replay the words over and over in your head. You have no idea what the ‘missing half’ is but it doesn’t feel good.

Cool air meets you when you step off the train and into the much drier air of the subway uptown. There are transportation workers here, dressed in all black with red sashes and polite smiles. Though the smell of rain rushes down the stairwell, there’s no deluge of water, no cloying scent of garbage.

Topside, the world is still covered by misty rain. At least the sidewalks aren’t swimming, rain rushing down the gutters with a loud roar as the storm drain systems operate. Umbrellas move along the sidewalk like beetles, their little black shells crawling along the evening foot traffic.

To your right, cars are lined up, occasionally beeping impatiently from people who are tired from their day working in the city and just want to go home. You wonder what it must be like, to wake up at the same time every morning and sit in a car for an hour to go to some flashy building uptown. Maybe you’d have a desk in a nice glass office and get to look out over the rest of the world, watching the people below you move like ants.

Or perhaps you’d be one of those workers who only worked until you found a wealthy partner to support you, becoming the trophy they could tout around at parties and drape in jewels. Then, your partner would slip down to downtown in the middle of the night and visit the seedy bars and clubs in the underbelly, where they would ultimately whore their way through the riff raff.

You grit your teeth. It always comes back to this, your dreams coming full circle to your reality. You’re not good at dreaming. Perhaps as a child, tucked against the small window at your father’s cafe you were a dreamer. Thought about what you might do with your life, what potential you might have.

That was snuffed out. No need to think about it, no need to lament over it.

The Glass Thorn Hotel stretches upward into the sky, iridescent and glowing from all of the hidden lights fixed to the building. It stands out among the rest of the city, a shining beacon of light among dark office windows. Crowds of people with their umbrellas press together behind red rope, watching the slow drag of cars come along to drop off the city's elite: government officials, royals, music idols, movie stars, business owners.

A car hits a puddle as you walk around the side of the building, splashing you from ankle to hip. You let out a frustrated yell. You were already wet from the knee down, but how you feel clammy near your ass as you hurry to the rear of the building, flashing your phone to show your ID and work badge at the door.

The Unseelie faerie at the door scrutinizes your ID, white eyes flickering from the glowing screen to your face. You grit your teeth and stare back at him, daring him to say something. His lips twitch in a frown before he hands you the phone back and opens the door further.

“Do dry off,” he murmurs, voice like velvet. “You’re dripping all over the place like a wild animal.”

“Noted,” you grit back, stepping inside.

The service hall is tight and bustling with activity. There’s an intention detector just ahead of you, a line of creatures going through and waiting for the thrumming energy field to buzz green. The detector is made up of two glass panes on either side of a carpet, flowing with magical energy as two armed vampires stand on either side.

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you ask for a towel to dry off, shivering in the cool of the hallway.

A scoff comes from behind you. You turn your head to the side a fraction, glancing at the security guard who shakes his head and mumbles something under his breath. Your hearing isn’t as sharp as a full-blooded fae, but you hear him well enough to know he calls you a half-breed.

You stiffen and turn forward, determined not to let it get to you. It isn’t the worst thing you’ve been called and it won’t be the last time you earn the name either. Your lack of magic has earned you snide glances your entire life. They have no idea that there is a river of magic running deep in you. It’s just inaccessible. Useless.

Passing through the intention detector is easy, though uncomfortable. The magic clings to your skin like tiny little claws latching in, sticking to you and digging in to find your intention, to see if you mean harm. You certainly don’t mean harm to anyone here.

Save Jeongin, find the missing half.

You hope that if someone in the building tonight is looking to harm this Jeongin that they get disintegrated by the detectors long before you have to do anything.

After signing in, you get directed to wardrobe where you pull on black dress shirt and quickly tuck it into your black pants before rushing toward the swinging kitchen doors.

Noise explodes when you enter the kitchens. People hollering, the sound of oil crackling accompanied by the slamming of metal knives and pans against burners, glass shattering followed by screaming as someone drops a dining plate.

You spot Jisung lifting a serving platter of champagne flutes, his ochre eyes on the pixie being scolded as he makes a face you can only read as yikes while rushing over to him. He doesn’t see you coming at first, standing and watching the chaos, golden glow around him as his mind wanders.

“You’re glowing,” you mumble to him as you pick up a serving tray of champagne. He snaps his head in your direction, the faint glimmer around his body vanishing but his million-watt smile making up for it. “Why are you so giddy?”

“Perhaps the pixie who dropped her serving plate called me a cunt earlier,” he said, sniffing indifferently as you both head toward the servants hall to slip through the dark and enter the banquet hall of the hotel. “Perhaps I charmed a spriggan to tie her shoe laces.”

“Deserved it, then.”

“Perhaps so.”

Darkness envelops the two of you as you move behind a murky, darkened veil. The magical veil is for cosmetic purposes only, shielding the entire venue from the unsightly serving staff as the gala on the other side of the dark wall buzzes with activity.

“You were late again, by the way. Shira asked where you were.”

“I’m sure you lied and said I was here.”

“I did,” he confirms, sighing as the two of you step around rushing servers.

Jisung gives you a dark look. He looks exquisite tonight, his almond eyes lined with brown kohl, enhancing their alluring pull. There’s a sweep of shimmer on his cheekbones and his golden hair is styled back and laced with lines of glitter. His features are soft and round - innocent, which is what he likes people to think. You know he’s anything but.

“You look beautiful,” you offer as he gestures for you to lead the way through the darkened veil. “Stay away from the Unseelie.”

He nods, eyes serious. “I know.”

Giving Jisung a single encouraging nod, you step through the veil. It feels like stepping through static, your ears popping on the other side. The gala is loud, the sound of all the voices and the music bustle washing over you as you slip into your role as a server for the night.

When Jisung told you that the events company he sometimes works for needed extra bodies to serve at an event uptown, you’d immediately said yes. You needed the extra cash and beyond the fact that the opulence reminds you how you are worlds awat from the elite members of Stratos, they’re not the worst jobs.

But you’d almost bailed when you realized that the event was hosted by the Unseelie Court. Hyunjin was going to have a meltdown when he realized where you were too. But a single look at your bank account had you swallowing down years of bad memories and putting on a smile as you extended your tray of champagne flutes.

Attending patrons tended to ignore you anyways. No one's eyes drifted to your tipped ears that were far too short to be entirely fae. No one glanced twice at your face, a mess of fae features with something else. Something unnamed.

A black and blue butterfly passes you, a glowing trail of blue following its path. Your eyes follow it as it floats upward toward effervescent lighting. The ballroom has been transformed into a glowing cave of darkness and magic. Glowing flowers and vines drape on the walls and across the ceiling, floating lights of pink and blue drifting in the air offering gentle lighting.

Beneath your feet, the floor is soft moss, dotted with mushrooms and other illuminated flora. The air smells sweet, sticky and humid against your skin. You imagine yourself on the inside of a volcano long burned out, the inside becoming home to all of the things that thrive in the dark, that make their own light.

It’s beautiful, and the creatures inside of it are all the more beautiful still. A moon wraith drifts by, her hair long and silvery. She’s watery at the edges and opaque enough that you can see right through her in some parts. She’s in silk that looks spun out of light, eyes wholly black with glittering stars.

A dizzying number of creatures drift by you. You see glittering gossamer wings, soft-furred brownies, sharp-fanged vampires, a grinning werewolf, groups of nymphs giggling behind scaled hands. A popular musician passes you, his siren song making you turn your head as he drifts by. He’s not even speaking but you hear the soft purr of his music, the longing notes as he continues into the room, turning heads as he goes.

Cameras flash as a group of politicians pose together. You recognize the princes of the Solar court posing for a photo. She’s otherworldly, her moss eyes vulpine and sharp, her doll-like face illuminated in the lowlight. Her dress looks like it’s made of light, threads of glowing sun wrapping around her light body and casting her in a gold gleam.

Council members fill up the room. As you navigate, you recognize the leading members of the species of Stratos in the room. Not all twelve are present, but not all twelve members of the city’s ruling body are equal as they should be. Even among the top there is a social hierarchy that dictates invitations.

A routine forms for your night. Circumnavigate the room while holding a tray, keep your eyes down, go back to the kitchen to receive another when you’ve emptied what you’re carrying. It’s easy money though your arm is a little sore and your shoes feel too tight on your feet. Ignoring it, you enter the main gala again, eyes scanning the room for Jisung.

Your eyes alight on the vila as he bows his head and accepts thanks for something that a werewolf is telling him. As though he senses your eyes, Jisung looks across the room in your direction until he finds you. He offers a small smile and nod, letting you know that he’s okay. He’s well-enough equipped to take care of himself, but you have been his protector since you were children in school, standing up to the bullies who used to knock him down and cut his hair.

A tingling sensation slides down the back of your neck. You pause and stiffen, staring at a lichen covered wall where two spriggans swing from vines, but you’re not watching them. Your eyes unfocus as you feel the prickling awareness bloom, static spreading down your spine.

It’s a peculiar feeling that’s similar to when your instincts kick in and scream at you to do something specific. Lifting your gaze, you sweep the room a few times, looking for a noticeable threat or whatever is giving you this niggling feeling. There’s nothing that immediately looks out of place to you: flashing lights, low pulsing music, the din of voices and writhing bodies as they move around one another.

There’s a larger crowd than there was before. Late comers are filling in before the seat portion of the gala starts and they have dinner while the faerie courts lament about the long-lasting history between them as they approach the anniversary of the peace between the four of them. You hope you get to sit in the server hall and rest your feet for that portion. Listening to the leaders of the city is the last thing you feel like doing.

A server hisses at you to move and snaps you from your trance. You nod and roll your shoulders, joining the rotation again. The platter feels heavier in your hand and your heart beats a little faster. Instead of keeping your eyes low and to the ground as you carry around what looks like truffled kelpie eyes, you keep watch on your surroundings. The tingling sensation that you’re missing something immediate is there, pressing down on your spine.

Applause starts to thrum through the crowd of attendees as you pass off the last of the eyeball truffles on your serving platter. You glance toward the front of the room where there are two holographic screens displayed as the queen of the Unseelie Court takes center stage on a glass platform.

Queen Jieun is a spectacle to look at. Her hair is raven black, shining blue under the lights of the floating orbs and glowing flora. Her dress is a marvel of sweeping skirts of black and charcoal gray, tiny beaded details depicting vines twisting up the dress. The bodice is a cage of black branches and thorns, frosted with frozen dew and forming a violent collar around her delicate throat.

The queen of the Unseelie Court is everything she could be, delicate and sharp, dangerous but coy, beautiful but terrifying. You swallow past the sour taste in your mouth at seeing her, repressing a shiver as you bow your head down and make a beeline for the opaque veil as she gives her opening address, voice like dark velvet.

Jisung grabs you and yanks you to a standstill. You bare your teeth at him in frustration but he gives you a wide-eyed, pleading look. A quick glance around the room lets you know that none of the other servers are moving, all standing rigid around the room with their heads cast down and arms laced behind their back because it’s impolite to not show reverence while the queen is speaking.

Gritting your teeth, you stand next to him and lace your hands behind your back. Fixing your eyes on the floor, you take deep breaths in through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. The queen’s voice is like nails on your skin, rattling you down to your core the more you hear the raspy laugh and each accented word.

Queen Jieun doesn’t know your face or you wouldn’t have come tonight, knowing that the Unseelie Court would be here. But she does know your name - especially your mother’s - and being in the same room as her feels oppressive. Like a hand is pressing down on our throat, determined to crush your airway.

A brush of fingers against yours draws your attention. Jisung isn’t looking at you, but his fingers are twining with yours, giving you a squeeze. Your heart constricts and your throat tightens, nearly overcome by a sweeping of fondness for him. You squeeze his hand back and turn forward, steeled and strengthened to listen to a woman who unknowingly shapes your entire existence.

There’s a round of applause as she asks the queen of the Solar Court to join her. They use fanciful words to depict how long ago, the four courts of the fae were at odds with one another. It was far before Stratos ever existed and the fae lived in their own world before it joined the Burned Kingdoms. Worlds lost to some magical blight, something all-consuming.

Now, the four courts of the fae live in harmony. Tense harmony filled with political jockeying, vying for the council seat, and an ever-changing game of chess where they seek to out power one another. The Unseelie Court is better at it than most, but they aren’t where the power lies here this evening.

The sovereign of the Seelie Court sits at the table of honor, their jade eyes honed in on the two monarchs speaking at the front of the stage. The sovereign is beautiful, with high cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut glass and red stained lips the color of crushed berries. Their copper long hair is intricately braided and there’s a circlet resting just above a proud brow. It’s hard to look at them for any amount of time, the power and glamor radiating from the faerie always makes you avert your eyes after a few seconds.

Sovereign Seren is the Unseelie queen’s opposite in almost every way. Where color seems to blanch where Queen Jieun goes, the world around the sovereign is brighter and warmer and you swear you see colors you never knew existed before. This is what the old blood of the original fae kingdom looks like. This is a faerie who has existed for thousands of years, and pins a cutting stare onto the two fae on the stage.

A static pulse ripping from somewhere in the building distracts you. You turn toward the kitchens where you felt it from, staring at the opaque veil between the gala and the serving staff. You can’t see through the veil at all, can’t hear any sounds but what is on this side of the magical barrier.

Your stomach sinks. The feeling of wrongness creeps up on you and you glance around to see if anyone else felt a shiver of strange magic. No one seems alarmed or looking in the direction you felt the wave emanate from. Jisung is staring at his feet, yawning.

Turning back to the magical wall, you stare at it as though you could will it to show you what's on the other side. This feeling of anxiety and fight or flight is different from earlier in the evening when you felt that cool tingle pressing on your neck. Now, your gut twists and you cannot shake the omen that has settled deep in your stomach, warning bells going off.

You turn to Jisung. “Something isn’t right,” you murmur to him. He looks up at you, eyes round and alarmed. He knows to trust you. “I think I felt something a moment ago and I have this horrible feeling-”

Terrible screams rip through the gala as servants spill through the magical wall. Immediately there are creatures shooting to their feet from tables and guards swarming the two fae royals on the stage. Jisung grabs your arm in alarm, looking as chaos breaks out along the far side of the room where servants are stumbling into tables and fleeing from the kitchens and halls in droves, several of them slick with blood.

Grabbing Jisung’s arm, you pull him behind you as the table in front of you gets shoved, the attendees rushing to get away from the unknown source of terror. You feel the threat like a pinprick, a knife of awareness as you move backward toward the gala entrance with Jisung pressed behind you. The two of you are careful to keep together, feet tangling with one another in the mess while your eyes are trained on the veil, waiting.

When you see the source of the mayhem, you freeze. The creature is a void, so dark that it bends the light as it slinks through the magical veil. As it passes, the wall of magic crackles, electricity popping and whining as it shatters and drops, revealing the servant hall. Jisung’s nails dig into your skin, drawing half moon circles of blood with his grip as the two of you stare at the massacre of bodies and limbs.

“What the fuck is that?” Jisung breathes, hand trembling.

You have no idea what the creature in question is. It’s sleek and shaped like a jungle cat, but its entire hide shines with leathery skin as it prowls into the room, shadows flickering strangely around it. Two long appendages grow from its back, lashing out like a whip and plunging into people. There are rows of serrated teeth at the end of each appendage, chittering like a saw as it pulls victims down.

It’s hard to watch but harder to look away as the creature holds a Solar Court guard down to the ground and turns him into something unrecognizable, an oozing husk of a body as the guard nearly melts with whatever the teeth do to him.

Jisung turns and vomits behind you. Your stomach is hardly in better condition when another creature slinks around the corner from the kitchen, the same buzz shivering over you with its presence. This one is closer and you realize that it’s just you and Jisung, frozen and staring as fae guards and a pack of werewolves press in on the first creature.

This one, though, seemsed fixed on you. It’s hard to make out and discernable facial features, but you immediately feel like prey. You squeeze Jisung’s arm. “Run,” you whisper.

Jisung doesn’t hesitate. He lets you go in favor of running and you’re on his heels, leaping over a broken chair as you go. The banquet hall doors are a mass of bodies and screaming creatures shoving and pulling. Only three sets of doors are available for the escape of the people inside as hundreds of people try to stampede through them.

As you approach the crowd, they start screaming and running toward you, herded toward the center of the gala as more of the cat-creatures prowl from the lobby into the event space, their whip-like limbs and teeth tearing into victims as they go.

Bodies slam into you. Jisung’s hand gets knocked from yours and you scream his name. He’s yanked from you in the sea of people and you shove your way through the panicking crowd in the direction you think he was pulled in.

Stumbling, you end up at the south end of the room, a body slamming into you and knocking you to the ground. Rolling to your front and pushing yourself up, you freeze, eye level with one of the creatures that is cornering a faerie dressed in the leathers of the Unseelie Guard. He’s got a sword out and he’s bleeding from his brow, standing in front of either a dead body or someone who is unconscious as he snarls.

He’s young you realize, vulpine face full of terror but eyes lit with fire. You scrambled to your feet, slipping on spilled blood. The creature prowls toward the faerie but he doesn’t move, determined to stand over the body laying on the floor instead of turning to run.

Around the room, there are several people trying to fight off the monsters. You see the Sovereign from the corner of your eye, her green magic flashing so bright you see stars. Behind you, a faerie skids to a halt and looks at the Unseelie guard.

“Jeongin!” he screams, voice cracking.

Jeongin. The name resonates with you immediately and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Save Jeongin, find the missing half.

Without considering the consequences, you stepward and teeter right into the pool of your magic, falling headfirst into the bottomless well of energy.

Your magic is unpredictable at best and you’re wildly untrained. Beyond a few parlor tricks, your energy sits inside of you untapped and waiting. It feels like an ever-flowing river, cycling and rushing through your entire body. Sometimes, you try to dip your hand in. But you can never grasp it, can never pull out a handful of it to do what you want.

That certainly insn’t the case now as your panic jumpstarts your magic. You’ve only done this twice before. Once was the first time you ever fell headfirst into your magic. You had just been trying to get a jar of cookies from the highest shelf, but you’d fallen from the counter and tried to soften the blow. You’d melted right through the floor and set off some sort of reaction, your magic eating away at the foundations of your home until there was nothing left.

The second time, you’d been ambushed with your mother leaving a very tense meeting with her family at their estate. You’d been afraid and reacting out of instinct to protect yourself, pulsing like an electromagnetic generator and sending a wave of energy outward.

It had leveled a building and left a scorch mark on the earth. You hadn’t even managed to save your mother.

Now, it doesn’t matter. The seer’s words echo through you and you lose yourself to the surging power, becoming a livewire. The thing senses you, turning on you and away from the faerie - Jeongin - to attack. It’s too late. Your palms are burning up with magic and you imagine a blade, something to cut away at the creature. You let your magic fly, a flash of something razor thin.

Black ichor sprays as it hits the monster. It splatters outward, making you flinch as it hits you hot and wet. Its two halves fall on the ground, leaking onto the floor. The air around it shimmers for a moment, vibrating before it settles and all that’s left is the dead thing.

Someone screams your name. Jisung comes running toward you, a loping creature following him. Jisung is covered in blood, blonde hair soaked red. Your power shakes as you reach for him, one hand outstretched the other shaping another blade of energy.

Jisung’s hand grabs yours and you pull him to your chest, holding him as you throw your magic again. You hear the way it cuts the air, an audible hum as it hits the creature and slices thickly through its hide. It hits the ground heavily, the air glimmering again like the fabric of this world is registering that something has happened.

Elsewhere, beasts are slowly being felled. The high priestess of the witch covens wields white fire around her, a whip of flame cracking as she advances on a creature. Lightning crackles up the sword of a nephilim solider, arching as he slices through the leg of another.

“What the fuck was that?” Jisung breathes, holding on to you for dear life. “Did you just-”

“Yes,” you pant.

“How?”

“I just panicked, honestly. I have no idea.”

Jisung hugs you tightly. “Thank you.” You give him a squeeze back and he peels away, looking over your shoulder. “There are three Unseelie fae staring at you.”

Save Jeongin, find the missing half.

Licking your lips, you turn to look at the group of fae behind you. The young one that you saved - Jeongin - stares at you with wide eyes and his mouth open. A little marveled. A little afraid. Behind him, the faerie that he was standing in front of is sitting up with the help of the one who had yelled Jeongin’s name, his eyes glued to you as well.

It’s the one Jeongin had been protecting that attracts your attention. When you look at him the sounds of death and chaos fade to a dull roar, blocked out by your tunnel vision as you stare at him. Suddenly, the world feels right, like everything makes perfect sense. Everything is aligned.

He’s devastating to look at. Amethyst hair hands down in his face, matted with the blood that drips down the side of his head. He has unfathomably dark eyes, feline-shaped and sharp. He’s made up of equally soft and sharp features, nose round and jaw honed. His mouth is fixed in a grimace, but you think his lips are plush. Gentle.

Your heart beats loud in your ears as you stare at him. That strange sense of instinct is screaming now, louder than before, pressing down on you like you’ve finally figured out what it wants from you. It tells you that it wanted you to look here, at this person. The man sitting on the floor, staring up at you with a mix of confusion and wariness.

Suddenly, you realize that in this moment there is the absence of something else. Most of your life you’ve spent wandering around as though you were looking for something else or like something was missing. Just a small piece of you that was impossible to find.

Now there’s a key sliding into a lock. Your mouth dries as you feel like something clicks. Like suddenly, now that the two of you are staring at one another, everything makes sense. Rationally, none of what has happened tonight makes sense. The creatures, the attack, the chaos and your sudden dip into your magic.

Yet… it feels right. Entirely, wholly right, for the first time in your life.

Horror creeps in slowly as your mind begins to put together the details too slowly. It seems that the faerie on the floor - someone important, by the looks of his guards - has already come to a conclusion you haven’t reached just yet. He’s shaking his head and pushing back a little bit, eyes never leaving you.

Such beautiful eyes, you think absently, under all of the whirring of your thoughts.

When you were little, you asked your dad what it felt like when he realized your mother was his mate. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but this face had clouded over in a way you’d never seen before, etched glass of pain and sadness. You’d regret asking immediately and thought that he wouldn’t answer until he finally did.

Like suddenly there was no longer a piece of me missing or looking for something, he’d said. Like everything made sense, even if it didn’t really. Just instinctual knowing that I was suddenly whole.

Jisung says your name and pulls on your arm but you’re anchored to where you stand. Unable to move and think beyond the word that is circling your thoughts over and over again. As soon as you even think of the word, you can’t get rid of it. Can’t shake the feeling that you’ve come to the right conclusion about whatever this feeling is.

Mate you think. Mate. Mate. Mate.

No word in the world seems more appropriate. It echoes inside of you - rattles the stars, even. You’re so sure that he’s your mate, not a sliver of doubt in your heart. Fear, perhaps. Despair, even. But nothing has felt surer to you than this moment, looking at him.

“Your highness,” Jeongin says, though it’s phrased like a question. He’s looking at the faerie on the floor and you put the rest of the pieces together. Unknowing, the young guard continues. “She just saved our lives.”

Your highness. You look at the crest on his broach. The elm tree that is stitched in the armor of the guards. Horror unravels in you like a slow blooming flower, each petal bringing with it the new weight of trepidation as you stare at the prince of the Unseelie Court.

“Doesn’t matter,” the other guard growls and points a blade at you. “Until this is sorted out, everyone is an enemy.”

The prince snarls vicious sound, canines on display as he jumps to his feet, hand shooting out to grab his guard’s arm. “Do not,” he hisses. “Point your weapon at my mate.”

⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ Series Masterlist ⟡ Playlist ⟡ Ask ⟡ Next Chapter

#lee know smut #lee minho smut #lino smut #lee know fanfic #skz minho smut #skz fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know #skz #stray kids #minors dni #minors do not interact #skz smut #lee know imagines

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traumacatholic · 7 months

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Finally kind of feel in a position where I can post this. I realise that my last post and long disappearance was probably of great concern to some people, and I am deeply sorry for any worry or pain that I've caused other people with that long disappearance. There was a lot going on in my life, including moving house. And I think the longer I took a break from Tumblr, the more daunting it came to come back. But the fact of the matter is, I've cried over this blog a lot. Or rather, I've cried over the followers of this blog and the people that have engaged with it. I have been dealing with a great sense of guilt. Guilt that I've let you guys down. Guilt that I've betrayed you in some way.

Something that always pained me, was the reality of my own struggle to access mental health support. It's an unfortunate reality, that no matter how many times we might work to raise awareness, and tackle stigma surrounding mental health (particularly complex mental health issues like OCD or PTSD or Schizophrenia, etc). That this doesn't do much to tackle the core issue that's the main struggle for people: accessible healthcare. Be that to do with any financial costs or lengthy waiting lists or other issues. There was a sense of deep guilt of encouraging people to seek help, whilst also being fully aware that they might be even more disheartened if they reached out for help and were unable to get anything substantial. I would never want to build someone's hopes up in order to then shatter them. I've experienced it all too much with trying to access support on my own.

I also felt really guilty running this blog when I was struggling with Church attendance. It felt like I was lying about my piety, to people that were desperately trying to fight to be able to attend their Church and to be a part of Church life. I'm in a city now, and I've started attending Church regularly. I've been trying to get into the practice of daily prayer, and the daily readings of theological texts alongside Scripture. Some days are better than others, but then I guess that's always going to be the case. Something that was really deeply meaningful to me during RCIA was being told that conversion to the faith wasn't a one and done thing. Each day, we are constantly converting back. We are constantly returning to God and being renewed in our relationship with God, no matter how far we stumble or what kind of problems we stumble into - willing and unwillingly.

And this is where it gets, I guess, the scariest. I've been dealing a lot with anxieties and doubts surrounding my faith. Not in the, "Hey guys sorry I've taken a break and became atheist" kind of way. But I've been feeling a strong pull towards Orthodox Christianity. And the Church I've been attending, has been an Orthodox one. I don't know. It feels weird to type that one out. It felt so weird to call myself Catholic for a long time. And then I became so happy of the title, and I loved the faith. I still do, love Catholicism. But I think this is something I need to explore. I've been feeling the draw to Orthodoxy for a long time, and I always kept pushing it away. But I think the only real way I can really address it, is by actually giving it a fair chance and exploration.

I don't know what I'll do with this blog. I don't intend to delete it - I think there are still people that can find help and comfort from the prayers that I've posted. I do have a new Tumblr, where I post excerpts from Orthodox texts I've been reading. I do still feel really strongly about helping people struggling with mental and physical health issues, trauma survivors etc. I care intensely about that work. And it's why this post pains me so much. I still want to be able to give you guys help, you can always send a message over to my new blog @orthodoxadventure if you're in need of any prayers or advice surrounding mental health/trauma etc (also despite the circumstances, I did go through RCIA, and if anyone has any questions surrounding it, I'll try my best to answer) , and I think I'm going to make it a habit to check the blog here.

I'm deeply sorry to anyone that I've hurt by doing this. I would really appreciate your prayers. None of this is, particularly easy. I feel like I've let down and hurt so many people. But I also knew that the more I tried to resist the interest of Orthodoxy, the more I felt that I was letting myself down and letting my relationship with God down. Maybe in some time, I will return to Catholicism, much more content and happy and more knowledgeable in that choice. Maybe I will go further down the path to the Orthodox Church. But I knew I couldn't just feel like I was sitting on the fence any longer. I hope that you will be able to forgive me for this, and I intend to keep you all in my prayers.

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doberbutts · 3 months

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one thing to make clear is that from what ive seen people aren't saying transmascs are claiming transmisogyny doesnt exist, but kind of the opposite? as in, transmascs are trying to co-opt specific experiences transfems go through when they dont have that same lived experience, and thus cant offer as meaningful insight. this is basically the crux of the whole tme/tma discourse, though i think it'd be easily resolved if we were just allowed to have our own language to talk about our experiences

Oh there's absolutely people saying we think transmisogyny doesn't exist literally right now in the tag.

But you're also right that there's also people saying that somehow by discussing our problems, we're somehow stealing from trans fem discussions about theirs.

I don't really follow the logic of this to be perfectly honest. I think there is very little that trans fems experience that doesn't either have an equivalent experience for trans mascs or that trans mascs don't experience something also terrible in its stead, just like I think that of the other way around: there's very little that trans mascs experience that trans fems don't have an equivalent or equally terrible experience for. I think that is the nature of us both being affected by the specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny, just gendered in specific ways to hurt us as individuals.

Pretty much any post I've seen on this matter has made a lot of assumptions one way or the other that completely ignore the lived reality of both trans mascs and trans fems, and it's very frustrating to try and engage with this problem because it feels more like people dedicated to screaming at each other than anything really particularly productive.

I also think it is impossible to be exempt from oppression. Not being the target doesn't mean the bullet can't hit you if the shooter can't aim for shit.

And it's genuinely WEIRD to me that trans mascs are talking about suicide and rape statistics, medical gatekeeping, rejection from social groups upon coming out, politicians making laws targeting their ability to transition, erasure and also weaponization of trans pregnancy, resources for the most vulnerable of us requiring detransition at minimum for entry if we're allowed in at all, the rates of violence from domestic partners and family members, struggles with male beauty standards and eating disorders... all stuff stemming from transphobic cishet society and the patriarchy... and somehow we're stealing from trans fems or blaming trans fems for the shit that 99% of the time is lived experience coming from being targeted by fucking cis people in the first place.

Like, how is me talking about getting beaten up while being called a tranny and a heshe and getting pantsed and groped to "prove" my status as a girl due to being incredibly GNC and also intersex prior to figuring out that I'm trans co-opting anything from anyone? I'm talking about something that happened *to me*. It wasn't trans women who sent me home with bruises and scars every day, it was my shitty cishet classmates and their shitty cishet older siblings in an ultra-conservative environment. I don't think trans fems are at fault for what happened to me at all? I just don't like to be told that I'm "victimized myself" by talking about my very real trauma as a kid by someone who isn't even a trans fem claiming to be defending trans fems on my posts about it.

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self-loving-vampire · 3 months

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Since people on the dashboard are talking about smalltalk I feel like bringing up one of my least favorite arguments about it.

Sometimes, someone on here will make a post about how they don't like smalltalk and the replies will be going "so you think you should tell strangers about the most traumatic events in your life unprompted and without familiarity?"

And it always struck me as an obviously false and uncharitable binary. There are options besides "try to have a casual and unserious conversation" and "maximum intensity".

For one, some the people who don't like smalltalk would prefer if strangers didn't try to make empty conversation with them at all. If I'm in a waiting room or something I'd rather be doing my own thing rather than chatting with a rando who just finds the silence uncomfortable and has nothing interesting to say.

But also, there are a ton of ways to have more engaging and meaningful conversations beyond just "talk about personal trauma" or something?

You can try to talk about a thing you like, or some interesting facts you know or something.

If you hit me with "how was your day?" and I don't yet have any investment in whoever I'm talking to I'm probably just going to say something like "fine" or "sleepy" and leave it at that so I can return to doing something more interesting.

I think what happens a lot of the time is that a lot of the complaints about smalltalk are coming from introverts and autistic people but they get parsed from a very different point of view and this leads to incorrect assumptions about what the people who dislike smalltalk actually want.

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rainbowdaisy13 · 1 month

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Grief is an awful emotion & I hate she’s using it for this Joe rs , if that’s what she’s doing. (I think she is). Even if I bought toe , going this way is weird to me - she literally is pretending Kelce is her true love. She said she was happier than ever 2 mos after she broke up with Joe. That’s not grief - it’s a damn break up.

BOOM!!!

For anyone that hasn’t experienced Grief yet, it consumes you for sometimes years depending on the situation. I didn’t start to even begin to process my mom’s death in any meaningful way until the 10 year mark—for the record I do not recommend this, I was 24 and had no guidance. And the very beginning, the sharp I can’t breathe what the fuck is happening how are people continuing to just live life feelings can cause physical trauma—weight loss or gain, flat affect, inability to feel anything, disinterest in engaging with the world

We did not see that after Toe. Not even close. We saw MH being dragged around like a puppy and articles about how excited she was with this new love

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loversj0y · 10 months

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am i the only one who has a boiling hatred for fanon ghostbur?

Like--- I'm neutral about canon ghostbur.

But i really really hate how so many people went as far as saying that Ghostbur was all the good parts of Wilbur.

That is just so wrong---- ghostbur has the good memories, but not all the good parts. it just drives me nuts.

ghostbur wasn't good for c!tommy or anyone coping with wilbur's death

it wasn't his fault, but people need to stop depicting him as they do

ohohoho i specifically waited to get to this until i had my laptop because i love me some character analysis! so. lets talk ghostbur!

disclaimer: these are opinions, i didnt write the character, this is just how id analyze ghostbur and audience portrayal of him

so something i think people dont note about ghostbur a lot is the fact that he is not wilbur in a much more real sense than people realize. something that revivebur kind of touches on but people dont really note (in my opinion) is the way the memories and your actions during memories actually shape you as a person. ghostbur could never be all the good parts of wilbur because without the negative memories, he could never have knowledge of how he can be good in negative scenarios, like being good towards tommy in darker times. this is one of the biggest things that makes ghostbur not healthy for the characters around him, and why wilbur being revived is so important to wilbur's overall character arc

ghostbur is the image of wilbur if he never dealt with significant problems, never caused problems or engaged in them, because he only has good memories, he's never seen himself in a negative situation (think to how ghostbur reacts to philza telling him fundy wants to be "adopted" by someone else (i cant remember who at the moment))

when people tell him of his own negative consequences, he literally cannot react in a way of genuine remorse. he feels guilt because he learns that the living version of himself did those things, but he cant actually give any apology that would be beneficial to anyone involved. ghostbur cant apologize for something he cant remember doing because he doesn't know why he acted in those ways.

we can contrast this with when revivebur tries to later apologize (im thinking particularly to fundy) and how when fundy asks why he did those things, he tells him about how he wasn't well mentally. even though fundy doesn't accept the apology (in a very. drastic way), revivebur can actually acknowledge his own motivations, which allows him to actually have a chance as being forgiven.

ghostbur doesnt know any of those motivations, which is why his character is unhealthy. he is literally a ghost of the man he once was, so even though people want genuine answers, before knowing he was going to be revived, they had to realize that ghostbur is basically a punching bag for them to push their issues with c!wilbur onto because ghostbur cant actually respond in any meaningful way in terms of remorse and forgiveness.

also, as for the audience portrayal, i think people got very caught up on the "sweet ghost boy" image rather than what he actually is and how he actually affects the characters. he literally haunts them and reminds them of all the trauma c!wilbur gave them, while knowing that he can't actually answer for any of it because he doesn't remember hurting them

its a very famous philosophical argument (i believe by kant) about the concept of "if someone has no memory of committing a crime, can they actually serve time for it?" because if you have no memory of doing something, can you actually learn from and grow from your experiences?

because ghostbur cant. and thats what hurts the people around him so much. people like c!tommy and c!philza who geniunely care about c!wilbur and want him to be okay know that ghostbur is not that answer because he can't grow from memories he doesnt remember playing a part in, so it hurts to see someone you love be constantly stuck in place of never being able to grow and never being able to answer for all the things you want to ask.

ghostbur is so important to c!wilburs arc because he reminds people not to seek justice on those who can't answer for it. some people actually recognize this, some don't, and some just avoid him like a plague because it hurts.

#mar answers #ghostbur #character analysis #dsmp analysis #ghostbur analysis #anon :3 #i love character analysis so much #i have so much more i could say on ghostbur #but my thoughts are so jumbled that i'd need to create a whole character essay on the philosphical concepts behind his character #dsmp #c!wilbur #warden shes out again and shes cwilbur posting

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https-lovers · 5 months

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Reddie Longfic Recs (6 fics)

Majority of the recommendations are >100k words, and are categorized by timeline! I might make a second part to cover more fics.

Chapter I – 12 years old to immediate post-canon transition During the 27 Years – High school to adulthood Chapter II – Adulthood to Reunion, and post-canon

Enjoy!

Chapter I

are you lost enough? by tozier, trashmouthling (Teen and Up)

Premise: Summer of 1991, and there's no Pennywise. Ben is the new kid, and the Losers going to high school. Notes: This fic has a way of bringing the teenage Losers to life. It has its feel-good moments in summer, and although Reddie makes a meaningful part of the fic, each Loser's story is explored extensively. I also adore the way this was written. Each character's story is written like a dedication, where we find fleshed out characters with purpose behind their actions. The fic transitions in seasons, and even when the descriptive notes don't focus on the weather, you can still experience the Losers progressing from summer, to fall, to winter, and so on. This was a very enjoyable, insightful, humorous and witty read. Richie and Eddie's dynamic in this fic is easily one of my favorites; Where we're able to see their own perspectives and vulnerabilities, but we also see other characters' perspective of their growth, how they talk about each other when the other isn't present– the subtleties of growing up and falling in love with their best friend are all written with intention. If fondness was an extreme sport then they WON.

Reap What You Sow by Honbunbun (Teen and Up)

Premise: They've just defeated Pennywise, but now more monsters are drawn to Derry. The turtle gives them superpowers, and the Losers move in to Neibolt together. Notes: This fic has a unique exploration of the Losers' roles within the group. We pick up on Richie and Eddie's relationship after the first time they defeat Pennywise, with full awareness that the other is there for them. When they aren't defeating monsters or learning how to defeat monsters, the fic is undeniably domestic. They get together somewhere between the beginning and the end, and my favorite part was watching how their relationship progresses past "getting together"; It's a development of trust, and easing in to the kind of comfort you have when you realize someone is never going to leave. This fic was hilarious, explored topics of trauma and death with sensitivity, and honestly felt like a shorter read than it was because of how engaging the author's writing and pacing is.

During the 27 Years

I Left My Umbrella at Home by hyppityhoppy (Explicit)

Premise: "Some of the lost years, recovered" as phrased by the author. There's no Pennywise, but the Losers make distance as friendships do after high school. Decisions turn the tide, and in the middle of the semester, after little to no contact, Richie finds himself on Eddie's doorstep. Notes: This fic was like comforting crack to my nursing student brain telling me it's all going to be okay. The fic shows us the reality of friendships, without being pessimistic. The dialogues are witty and tinged with an edge depicting the characters' ages. They're college students dealing with newfound responsibilities, but we see them progress into adults with careers and marriages. This was a slice of life, the author described it as the recovery of their lost years and it's a completely apt description. Richie and Eddie do the college student mating ritual of having a hundred things to worry about, but still finding the time to make excuses for each other, to be around each other. I love how casual touches, and actions of caring are written into the scene; Some touches are a revelation, and some are written like it's an unquestionable necessity. Love the "Richie and Eddie"ness of all of it.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga (Explicit)

Premise: Months before Mike calls everyone back to Derry, Richie and (divorced) Eddie meet in a bar, and proceed to have a high commitment long-distance situationship. The fic follows their first meeting until a retelling and post-canon of Chapter II. Notes: The Eddie character study in this fic was amazingly done, and I adore Richie’s characterization. I have no idea how to describe their relationship in the first part of fic. Richie and Eddie connect right off the bat, and they go through the Horror of Being Known in separate ways. A lot of what I love about this fic are at risk of spoilers; But it made me very sentimental over Eddie. It deals closely with what he went through with Sonia and Myra, and how it’s affected his relationships and self-perception— The author brings in many realistic outliers and flaws in both their lives that could affect their relationship BEFORE they remember the clusterfuck that is Pennywise. The build up towards chapter II was extremely satisfying to me. The epilogue is so sweet I got cavities.

Chapter II

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers (Explicit)

Premise: What is says on the tin. Everything is post-canon of Chapter II. Eddie lives, Richie is put on trial for murder, they become roommates (and they talk to the dead) Notes: This is my Eddie Lives Bible. Richie is hilarious, and this fic explores the agency he seeks for himself extensively. This fic is basically canon to me. The writing feels grounded for a fic that explores ghostly possessions and Richie Tozier on trial for murder. This is a reddie list, but the inclusion of the other Losers is one of the best aspects of the plot. This fic is hilarious and endearing. Richie and Eddie are figuring out their footing. The part where Richie takes Eddie to the Kissing Bridge is like Top 10 Reddie moments and it's thousands of words before they even get together. This fic is like the navigational journey of two adults who are going through the wringer physically, emotionally, and blindly– with familiarity and sheer will as their saving grace.

Keep on Loving You by notso_bad

Premise: A retelling of Chapter II and post-canon, with Eddie and Richie's enlightening inner commentary (to clarify, the fic is still written in third person). "Emotional edging" as the author put it. Notes: It isn't a reddie rec list without a fic giving extensive, quality, real time inner commentary of Eddie and Richie upon reunion. I'm not eloquent enough to describe it, but the fic is written in such a charming way? The writing has a casual voice that switches between character perspectives, and it flows so naturally. The addition of flashbacks tied the fic together. The rapidity of memories tied with the surges of affection, outpours into two characters who don't know what to do with themselves around each other. Despite this, they know that the feeling– that all of it is still familiar, like they're picking up where they left off. Top tier dynamic.

#https-reddie #reddie fic recs #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #longfic recs

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rocketturtle4 · 10 months

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To Sir With Love, a Reflection

What is Love and What is Duty?

MAJOR SPOILERS

ALSO TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR SUICIDE (briefly mentioned)

The way family love is framed in this show, sparked a lot of reflection and made me realise how un-nuanced some of my thoughts about love have been. (This also made me realise how engaging I find generational family trauma in stories like this so thanks @lurkingshan for answering all my questions).

(This post follows the journey of my thinking so it’s a bit choppy, skip to Duty vs Devotion Vs Love if you want the outcomes bit)

During my initial thoughts about this show I stumbled across @waitmyturtles big meta on: Pain, Suffering, and Narratives in Some Asian Dramas/BLs and it definitely impacted my thinking so go read that.

What struck me as particularly odd (on a personal level) was the idea that western parents are conditioned to love their children. Turtles uses these phrases as examples of a common Western Experience

“There is NO WAY your parents don’t love you.”

“There is NO WAY your parents will ever give up on you. Even if they treat you badly, they love you.”

“In the West, we ALWAYS end up loving our children. That’s what society demands of PARENTS. We’re CONDITIONED to be like that.”

And uh What? *checks own brain* that doesn’t seem right fitted to my experience? (I come back to this at the end, promise)

Now, the point that Turtles goes onto make about Asian family structures is deeply meaningful and poignant (Summarised very briefly, by her, as:

“The equation is: even if you suffer at the hands of your parents, even if you don’t receive unconditional love and empathy from your parents, you must sacrifice in order to respect and serve your parents”)

GO READ IT IT’S BEAUTIFULLY MOVING AND IMPORTANT

However, part of the reason I feel this is relevant is because I DID NOT assume that Tian’s parents (Or Yang’s parents for that matter) loved him going into this show.

I am not quite sure where my own frame of thinking, (of parental love is not an automatic assumption) comes from, now that I know this isn’t standard, I’ll be looking into it further, but I felt it was important to start with this frame because I’ll be talking about the way this drama reshaped my thoughts on love, especially familial love, thus my starting point seems important.

Prior to about episode 14/15 I would have argued that neither of Tian’s parents loved him, they only loved the idea of him. (A literally line I thought to myself as I watched)

Li’s (Tian's mum) arc was the most impactful so I just want to give a quick rundown of the stages I went through and then I will be talking to some of these stages, with reference to Li (Mum), Song (Dad), Yang (brother) Chan (Wife 2, Yang's Mum), and Bua (Wife 3):

Stage 1 (most of the series): She (Li) doesn’t love her son, her love died when she realised he was a homosexual and everything since then has been about his conformity and power for herself.

Stage 2 WHAT, Maybe she does love her son

Stage 3 OH she definitely loves her son (SO WHYYY?)

Stage 4 Maybe she loves his son despite him being gay, rather than accepting him as a whole?

Stage 5 No she doesn’t even seem that specifically hung up on the homosexual, just his safetly

WAIT

Stage 6 Was all this…protective did she actually love him the whole time??? WHAT THE FUCK

Thus reflection:

Stage 1 (some initial thoughts)

Turns out my view on love is (or was?) rather black and white: to love someone & to hurt that person knowingly and intentionally were two concepts I viewed as mutually exclusive: Li hurt her son both physically and mentally on a regular basis and so from my initial standpoint she could not love him. (very unnuanced) (for the record, I'm not saying love and hurt are mutually exclusive (lol) but that I thought love and ongoing intentional hurt were)

In some ways I believed (emphasis on past tense) Song's love for Tian was greater than Li’s but that his love was also false due to a lack of knowledge.

Yang is the bestest bro but we’ll get back to him

Question: Did I really believe that all the actions Li took to protect Tian’s secret were not born out of love while she actively murdered people? Yeah kind of.

I had ascribed her a very similar motivation I ascribed to Chan: She wished to remain as the first wife and retain power and thus needed her son as the next head, discovery of his secret would end this possibility, so it must be kept secret at all cost.

I did not even ascribe her fear for her son’s death as a possible motivation which retrospectively seems very odd. My bias towards Li as unloving is why I had the whole opening section of this post.

Stage 2-4

I think part of the change in my thinking began not with Li’s actions towards Tian, but with Li’s interactions with Song midway through the show.

Song knows of Tian’s secret (but not what it is) and implores Li to tell him (and implores Tian to tell him but that’s not discussed here even if it was at that moment, I decided I hated him) and it is very clear that Li, really WANTS to tell him,

She wants to preserve their marriage.

She wants to give back the honesty he’s asking for,

BUT she never even considers actually doing so because to do so would condemn her son.

That she sacrifices her relationship with her husband to protect her son’s secret was the first rock to really put a dent in my un-nuanced take on her characters motivation.

A lot of things happen from here, but Li throwing herself in front of the police officers and begging them to take her instead was definitely the final straw that shattered my perceptions.

But hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself

Stage 5

The societal and familial homophobia woven through this story and most strongly represented by Song is also a key part of this reflection.

The fact that Song grieves his brothers death, grieves for the brother he was closest too, grieves for the breakdown of the five families that they’d built and STILL VIEWS SAID BROTHER AS LESS THAN A MAN FOR BEING A HOMOSEXUAL was feckin INSANE.

But it was also the reality of what I’d been imposing onto Li. This is the kind of (not)love I ascribed to her.

Song didn’t truly love his brother for who he was, only who he knew him to be. And if knowing something fundamental makes you view that person as less, then, in my opinion, you never really loved them in the first place. You don’t love them, you love your own perception of them. You don’t love them, you love the idea of them.

(Look at Song here, reinforcing my black and white thinking, no wonder this show got me all twisted around).

Now Li on the other hand arguably doesn’t believe that being a homosexual makes her son automatically less.

Does she believe that he needs to supress this part of himself to become head of the families? Yes,

BUT, I would argue that this is more to do with her knowledge that he’ll definitely be unable to inheret due to Songs views (and may be kicked out of the family/die) than any personal belief of his unsuitability.

She views him as competent DESPITE his homosexuality, this is something that is hidden for his safety, more than for making him less of a man.

(I am not saying this is okay, just unpacking the different motivations as I understood them, and given ep 1 she KIND OF HAS A REASON)

I'm also not saying she's not homophobic (There is also her view that he can ‘be fixed’ as seen in her repeated attempts to get him to sleep with a woman in case he realises he likes it. Which is messed up, but again NOT my primary point.)

Stage 6

Turns out she loves him a ton after all:

She throws herself in front of the police

She planned to commit suicide (yes to absolve herself of her wrongs for some religious adjacent nuance I didn’t fully understand as a western viewer but also to ensure that her wrongs didn’t negatively impact her son’s future)

She sacrifices her husbands trust in her (as mentioned earlier)

She would sacrifice who she is in her sons eyes (someone he does love) to secure his ideal future (as she see’s it).

She loves her son and this love comes out in what I have reframed for myself as Devotional love

Duty vs Devotion vs Love

Duty is, I think, what we often see framed as love or love adjacent in the families portrayed in Asian drama’s, at least to Western viewers.

Children are taught they have a duty to their parent’s ABOVE ALL ELSE

Above love

Above self-care

Above other relationships

This is what their parents expect from them.

This is what’s framing their parent’s investment in their lives.

Duty WITHOUT love is, in my opinion, what we see discussed in turtles post with the examples of “Non’s father in Dark Blue Kiss; or Korn’s father in Double Savage; or ESPECIALLY Uea’s mom in Bed Friend”

Do these children love their parents? I have no earthly clue

Do these parent’s love their children? I would say no, but that doesn’t change the fact that as their children they must be DUTIFUL.

Devotion is then the intersection of duty and love, it is love with expectations. My current thinking is that many child-parent relationships in Asian dramas, especially child to parent, fall firmly into this category. How much emphasis is placed on duty over love seems to link with how damaging that relationship can be.

Li’s love for her son falls into this category, her love is for her son but her duty is for his future position and safety and this is of highest value to her, higher than her love for who he is.

This is a thread I definitely notice in Asian dramas, she is not duty without love as mentioned above, she is not “rooted in judgement against her offspring” (again from turtles) to the exclusion of all love, but this does colour her raising of him in a way that is significantly traumatising.

I think it is possible that Dad in Khun Chai may have reached this level of judgement if he had discovered his son’s secret (in a less extreme situation) and Li knows this, and so must keep him safe.

Though in the end he sees this too:

Yang & Tian

Now, Devotional love is something I also want to talk about in the context of Yang and Tian because I feel that the kind of love Yang has for Tian is different to the kind of love Bua has for both boys and this is the only way I can articulate how.

It's also important to know that duty often forms a part of a relationship that involves commitment (family or otherwise) so I am not saying devotional love is bad.

Despite Chan's best efforts, Yang grows up devoted to his older brother, we see this COUNTLESS times through the drama, and it was undoubtedly my favourite part.

Yang’s love for Tian is unconditional and certain, his realisation that Tian is gay leads to his desperate search for, and hug of his, brother, because he IMMEDIATELY recognises how hard that must be.

It does not alter how much he loves his brother

It does not make him think of his brother as different or less

If anything it increases his determination to keep his brother safe.

This Protectiveness leads his love further up the scale into Devotion

Yang’s love felt very devotional to me because he loves his brother and acts as if it’s his duty to protect him (despite being younger).

We see this in his taking of punishments for Tian

In how he searches for answers to the murder and then only tells Tian about it after talking to Pin as he initially believes protecting Tian is more important than anything else

(I have not got to talk about Pin, but I would argue Tian’s love becomes less devotional (less lead by duty in the form of protectiveness) as:

He shifts to being the caretaker of Pin as well

Jiu is introduced into Tians life

This combination (especially Pin) leads him to treating Tian with more autonomy.)

A key difference, even at the start of the show between Li and Yang’s devotional loves is the focus of their duty.

Li’s is to Tian’s future

Yang’s is to Tian

Yang's duty to his parents (especially his father) is much less (or at least shown as less important) than his duty to his brother.

Tian

I'm not going to talk about Tian's love

ITS ALL FRICKEN SACRIFICIAL @colourme-feral

Boy needs to care less about his duty.

(Sacrificial = Extreme Duty + Love)

Bua

Bua’s love and acceptance of Tian (and of Yang) felt different to Yang’s love and acceptance of Tian and this a key part of helping me frame the duty vs devotion vs love

To me, Bua is the best example we have of love without duty (or with minimal duty at least), her (literal) separation from the family due to infertility (she lives in a different building) leads to having less stakes in the whole game. She loves the boys, but she does not believe anything is more important that them being themselves. Duty is not part of her relationship with them, and arguably, duty is not part of their relationships with her.

In my opinion, Li tries to instil a sense of duty in Bua’s love when she encourages her adoption of Tian, but it doesn’t really have the desired effect.

Bua loves them, but she also clearly loves Song and we can see (for example in the way Yang never tells her Tian’s secret and she never pressures him), that her care for others does not come with a caveat of duty. (Song pressures her though)

Did she have a duty to Song? to anyone? Would her love have lead her to the belief that Song needed to know? Ugh, honestly I have so many questions about Bua.

Side Note

Obsessional love is something different again which didn’t really feature in this drama but which my current thinking frames as possessive devotional love, (with possessiveness causing corruption maybe? Not sure).

ALSO

I feel like the duty/love scale overlaps with a lot of what we see in the portrayals of marriage on screen where duty is often put first and foremost in a way that often breaks down over time or leads to resentment but I haven’t really thought about this in detail.

What was the point of all this?

I think as westerners a key difference in family culture is the way duty is framed in parent child relationships. Having written all this I can now return to this point:

“In the West, we ALWAYS end up loving our children. That’s what society demands of PARENTS. We’re CONDITIONED to be like that.”

And, while I’m still feeling rather uncertain about the phrasing of this, I do think that societally (in the west) parents have a duty to their child RATHER THAN children having a duty to their parents (in Asian cultures)

That’s what feels the most different to me, and I think often expectation of care (duty) is framed as love, you're expected to care for your children and thus you must love them.

But parents don't necessarily love their children even when they care for them. Doing your duty is not the same as loving,

its still causing me a bit of disconnect, so maybe it’s causing disconnect for other people as well.

I’m not sure how realistic my duty to love scale is, but I wanted to chronicle the ways this show shaped my thinking, in the hopes other shows will change my thinking in new ways.

I am very keen to view other shows on @lurkingshan’s generational trauma challenge and see how my thinking continues to grow.

Also I loved this show like crazy and gave it 94%, equal 10th out of 76 shows. Go watch it if you haven't.

#Khun Chai #To Sir With Love #Rocket4Reviews #rturts is wondering #ADGTC #long post #tw: suicide

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